Tumgik
#if you have to consent to using your body when you’re dead then you definitely should have to consent when you’re alive
cupcake-complains · 1 year
Text
I constantly forget that Kentucky is a state. It sounds made up. Literally the only thing they’ve ever contributed is their fried chicken and you know what. Since Hawaiian pizza isn’t from Hawaii, KFC might not even be from Kentucky. Who knows. Google and Wikipedia could be lying.
(Also check out the tags for a cool, slightly profanity-filled essay (read: rant) on abortion)
24 notes · View notes
sillyrabbit81 · 1 year
Text
Dangle the Carrot
Tumblr media
Prompt: Smug and Sadistic, Virginity from @munstysmind (x) Thank you!
Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader
Word Count: Approx. 3.5k
Warnings: Smut, DUBIOUS CONSENT/ NON CONSENT, RELUCTANT READER, Coercion, p in v sex, fingering, discussion of body fluids, possessive August.
Authors Note: As always I need to thank my amazing mates and readers @nashibirne , and @henryobsessed your thoughtful and honest comments are always appreciated.
I had every intention of following the prompt, but as I wrote this is what came out. Walker is definitely smug, but probably not as sadistic as you would think. I hope you enjoy it.
Edited by me, there will be errors
Dividers by me.
Masterlist
Celebration Masterlist
Tumblr media
You’re sitting in the safe house sipping on your morning coffee, dressed in a simple knee length summer dress that is fashionable in the local area, going over new intelligence on your latest asset.
You’re going to have to meet him again, he is holding back information, you’re sure of it. The chatter had been building to a crescendo, someone is planning something and you’re sure the asset knows more than he’s letting on.
The assets' pale balding head peers back at you from the photograph that had been taken of him way back before you started to build a relationship with him. He creeps you out, well over 20 years older than you, he looks at you like he’s undressing you every time you meet. You feel like he strings you along with little tidbits just to keep you coming back and you’re starting to think he’s a dead end.
“Staring at his picture won’t make him talk.”
You jump, startled by Special Agent Walker's appearance. Dressed as he always is in a plain muted suit, he has a mug of coffee (you assume) in his hand and he sits next to you, plucking the file from your hands and opening it on the dining table in front of you.
“Any suggestions?” you ask.
“Possibly,” Walker says, the corner of his whiskered mouth lifting with a knowing smirk.
You purse your lips. Walker always looks like he knows something you don’t, you’re about to ask him what it is when he continues.
“I’ve been told to hurry you along. Langley believes he has information about a high value target and our window of opportunity is closing swiftly.”
Huffing with disgust you say, “I’ve done everything I can besides take my clothes off to get him to give up more information than we already know. I think he knows nothing. I think he’s full of shit.”
Walker shakes his head, “Langley disagrees. They think he might be involved in some way and is trying to avoid implicating himself.”
“I’ve told him we will look the other way on the shit he’s into if he can lead us to the target, or at least give us something we don’t already know.” You shrug and lean back into your chair, waving your hand over the file. “Like I said, I’ve given him every assurance, dangled every carrot, and he gives me nothing. I’m at a loss.”
Walker hums, turning a page, “Maybe it's time to stop dangling the carrot and let him have it.”
Your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
Walker doesn’t answer immediately. He finishes reading, then closes the file smoothly. He turns in his chair so he’s facing you and his knee brushes against your thigh, while he takes a moment to assess you.
“You said you’ve tried everything except taking your clothes off,” he says, the smirk reappearing on his lips.
“That’s not happening,” you say dismissively, but your cheeks burn at his suggestion.
Walker nods, a faux frown plays on his lips. “Did you read the brief?”
“Only a million times.”
Walker makes a gesture towards the folder on the table. “The initial report, second page, about a third of the way down.”
Sighing, you drag the file back in front of you and flip it open. Walker’s knee presses against your thigh as he puts his arm around the back of your chair and leans in to read over your shoulder.
“There,” he says.
You start to read, impatiently, “The subject is known for many clandestine relationships outside of his marriage. He tends to favour women who…” you trail off as you realise the description of his type of woman is basically a description of you. You keep reading in silence. 
…At least one of his former lovers was a British Agent and seeing as the subject was prone to “pillow talk”, it had proved an effective way to gather intelligence…
“Miss that part in your millions of readings did you?” Walker says in your ear. “Why do you think you were put on this case, hmm?”
The arm that rests on the back of the chair now rests on your shoulder and he starts to stroke your neck. His other hand rests on your knee, his fingers edge beneath the hem of your dress, inching their way up your thigh.
You can barely breathe, the realisation dawning on you that he’s right. You thought you were being rewarded for good work with lower level assets. Embarrassment creeps in, the old imposter syndrome that you had convinced yourself wasn’t an issue begins to rear its ugly head.
“I can’t,” you whisper.
Walker moves closer, his breath is warm on your neck, his fingers have worked themselves halfway up the inside of your thigh and they pause to caress your sensitive delicate skin.
“You can,” he whispers back, “I know what’s stopping you. Why do you think I was put on this case?”
Your chin trembles and you try to swallow down the lump rising in your throat. “This was the plan the whole time?”
“A contingency that Langley has decided to implement to hurry things along.”
Shaking your head, you flick his hand away from your thigh. “I can turn him without having sex with him. Give me a few more days.”
Walker grabs your jaw, his thumb and fingers dig painfully into your cheeks and he makes you look at him. His eyes are blazing with lustful impatience. He’s been waiting for this you realise, he’s been waiting for you to fail, waiting for the go ahead to take you.
“You don’t have a few days, princess. You have tonight,” Walker says in a gravelly and thick tone that doesn’t hold so much as an inch of empathy. “You have a choice. You can open your legs for me like a good girl and I’ll make your first time as pleasant as possible and believe me, I can make it very pleasurable. Or, you can let an ugly, skinny, limp dicked asshole, that doesn’t even know your real name, uselessly pound your sweet, tight, virgin pussy until his cum dribbles into your ruined little hole.”
“And if I refuse both options?” Your voice quivers as you ask the question because deep down you already know the answer.
“You’ll be out. A burn notice will be issued within the next hour.”
Icy fear blooms in your chest and your blood runs cold through your veins. Burn notice. Not only will you be out of the agency, but no self respecting private security firm would take you either. The whole industry would be closed to you. Everything you worked for would be taken from you within the hour.
Closing your eyes, you coldly try to rationalise the situation, weighing up the pros and cons. 
What is virginity anyway? Your hymen was well and truly worn away by now. You’ve had a wide selection of toys inside you. A couple of guys had fingered you in college and it wasn’t as though you were saving yourself for marriage or anything. Your lack of sexual experience is due to not having the inclination to find a partner who you wanted to sleep with rather than any real moral objection. 
There would be worse men to sleep with than Walker. He is attractive, even if he’s normally a little standoffish. He boasts about making it feel pleasurable doesn’t seem to be without merit; you can’t deny that his fingers which are circling their way up your inner thigh again do feel nice.
You open your eyes slowly and determinedly set your jaw. You lick your lips and take a breath to give your tepid consent, but nothing comes out. 
Walker seems to understand though, his hand holding your jaw softens and slides down to your neck. He uses his grip to draw you close enough to brush his lips over yours.
Whiskers prickle against your chin and warm, silky lips stroke yours, capturing first your lower lip then your top in a gentle nip.
“Relax,” he whispers against your mouth. His breath heats your lips and smells of mint and coffee. 
As he resumes his kiss, a light tickling sensation begins on your inner thigh, picking up where it had left off. Soft circling fingers draw an invisible spiral on your sensitive skin as it inches its way towards the apex of your thighs. It feels nice, gentle and tender, and against your will, your skin tingles with warm anticipation.
Hot velvety strokes of his tongue tease your lips, probing softly where they meet, silently urging you to open. He’s patient, easing back before trying again, all the while his thumb strokes your throat and fingers caress higher and higher up your thigh.
Maybe it is primal instinct, or perhaps you simply surrender, but you part your lips. His tongue slips into your mouth with a hum of approval. He strokes, massages, and sucks, encouraging you to reciprocate, but you can’t. While his touch is seductive, your heart beats faster and your body warms as your body begins to throb, you feel detached. It’s like he’s doing things to you and your body reacts but your mind is somewhere else recording your involuntary, mechanical reactions.
The ghosting circular caresses get larger, reaching high enough for a knuckle to brush over your panties. Dispassionate curiosity keeps you unmoving as his hand sweeps over your thigh again, this time a finger traces the edge of your panties, following its curve before resuming its path. 
He brushes over your panties again, floating over your slit and grazing your clit. A deep thrum begins between your legs and vibrates hotly through your nerves, and settles in your breasts making your nipples ache as they grow tight and harden. 
Your detachment shatters. You break his kiss with a cry and force your knees together, trapping his hand between your thighs and halting his advance.
“You were doing so well, princess,” Walker says, with a thicker and less gentle voice than before. 
You scowl at him as he tries to pry your knees apart with his free hand. It’s not anger that makes you protest; it's the fear that grips your heart with its icy fingers as you see the burning lust in his eyes. He isn’t just doing this for the mission, he’s doing this because he wants to and somehow that is so much worse.
You try to stand and run, but he’s too quick for you. He captures your wrists in one hand and roughly uses his body to get behind you. He thrusts his groin against your ass, and bends you over the table, trapping you like a pinned butterfly by your hands and his chest pressing against your back.
“Be a good girl and don’t fight it, because I’ll take you the hard way if I have to,” he growls in your ear in a tone that suggests he might enjoy that even more.
“Please,” you rasp weakly. “Please don’t…”
A rough hand bunches your dress up to your hips then rubs over the soft flesh of your thighs. You try to close your legs but he inches his feet between yours and forces them apart. He licks the shell of your ear before taking your earlobe into his mouth and sucks. Heat flows through your veins again, your nerves electrify while you twist and fight against his iron-like grip and heavy weight.
“Are you getting wet for me, princess?” he asks, mockingly rubbing himself against your ass.
“No!” you protest louder and with more conviction, hoping the forcefulness of your response covers for your lie because despite your fear, and you are afraid, your body is undoubtedly aroused and growing more so with every passing second.
“No?” Walker asks. “Are you sure?”
Embarrassment makes you drop your head to the table with a feeble whimper. Why is it that his smug mocking makes you even more aroused? You’re hot and slick beneath your panties and everytime Walker grinds himself against your ass, the fabric of the gusset clings to your sticky lips.
“Are you sure? I think I should check,” he says as his fingers hook the edge of your panties and peels them away slowly. 
Walker’s fingers easily slide over your pussy. You bite the inside of your cheek to try and stop the moan that hurtles up your throat. You try to fight against him, but he’s got you trapped as his fingers stroke and probe between your legs.
“Jesus, you’re so fucking wet,” he mutters throatily, as though he’s talking to himself. Sounding almost amazed, he adds, “You like this.”
Humiliated, you let out a soft cry. You do like it. You like the way he’s touching you even better now than when he first started. His weight pinning you to the table is strangely comforting, and knowing you can’t fight him off is embarrassingly arousing.
He spreads you open and a finger teases your entrance. You hold your breath, your whole body clenches anticipating pain. But he’s gentle as he slips a finger easily inside you and lets out a hard amused breath into your ear and you can imagine the smug grin on his face.
You squeeze your eyes shut as he slides his finger back and forth, each time at a new angle as if he is searching for something. He moans softly as he kisses your neck, sucking and biting hard, such a contrast to how gently his finger explores.
He adds a second finger, you cry out again as he stretches you and you clamp down hard as if you could push him out. He groans in response, his voice erotically guttural, powerful and raw as he growls out, “Your pussy is so fucking tight. So fucking hot.”
His fingers curl and you gasp. It already felt so good, but now there is a pleasant pressure building deep in your gut. Your core throbs and you tighten around him even more and your eyes widen in horror as you realise what is happening.
“No, no, no,” you protest as your thighs begin to shake. 
Tears well in your eyes as your body grows incredibly taut and torrid heat gathers between your legs. You pull on the hand holding your wrists and manage to get one free. You cover your mouth, trying to suppress your cries as your body surrenders to searing heaves of euphoric release that leave your skin tingling and your muscles quivering.
You’re still high, heady and weak from your orgasm as Walker pulls your panties down your thighs. Somewhere in your mind you think you should fight him because you know what's coming next, but your body feels so good that you also crave more. So much so that when Walker takes your hips and turns you before snaking an arm around your waist, you docilely let him lift you onto the table and stand between your bare legs.
Heavy lidded you watch him quickly undo his belt, his movements are a frantic indication of his desire. When he lifts his eyes as his pants drop to the floor your breath catches in your throat. Untamed and bestial lust twists his features, curling his lip and narrowing his cobalt stare.
“Please,” you murmur, the words spilling from your lips without any understanding of what you’re begging for.
Walker bares his teeth with a savage grin and growl, and reaches between his legs. He’s soft and blunt as he drags himself over you, coating the head of his cock in your slick arousal. Your mouth opens and you take a stuttering breath as he positions himself at your core. His arm draws your body close to him as he slowly pushes into you, his eyes dark and wild.
Pressure like you’ve never known makes your core spasm and strain and though you put a hand to his chest to try to slow him down, he doesn’t stop his unyielding intrusion. You think you should want to scream, cry, or at least protest, but your legs wrap around him, pulling him deeper until your bodies meet.
Twin moans float as they hang in the air as you both still. His breath saws in his throat as your every exhale comes out with a soft whimper.  No toy ever stretched you like this and you look down to see your slit bloom and spread around his thick cock. 
“Oh God,” you cry as your head lolls and falls back.
Fingers slip between your lips and pull on your teeth until your eyes meet Walkers. He watches slack-jawed and panting as your mouth closes over his intrusive fingers and the humiliating taste of your orgasm stings your tongue. 
With a growl he removes his fingers and covers your mouth with his, forcing his tongue into your mouth and sucking on yours as if to get a taste for himself. He grazes his whiskers over you, making your skin prickle. Your hand moves to his wrist and slides down his forearm and the powerful muscles dancing beneath his hairy skin feel so good you tighten your grip to feel then contract and flex.
He moves.
With fluid and deliberate rolls of his hips, he grinds against you. His mouth still covers yours and you desperately try to breathe through your nose and not choke on the scream that is poised at the back of your throat. His body moves with erotic grace, confusing your mind with every circling thrust. It shouldn’t feel so good, you don’t want this.
Oh but you do. You so do.
The familiar heat gathers between your legs and your hips, moving with him, chasing him, urging him to move faster, to give you what you need to fall into bliss again. You’re not sure when you went from passive recipient to enthusiastically compliant, but you’re definitely a desperately willing participant now.
Walker leaves your lips and kisses down your throat, groaning as he sucks bruisingly hard on your skin. He works his way to your ear, his cheeks burn your skin as your skin prickles and breaks into sweat.
“Your pussy is too good to waste on another man,” Walker groans. “You’re mine now.”
It takes you a moment to register his words, but when they sink in, irrationally your heart soars.
“All fucking mine,” he growls.
The heat of his breath as he rasps out the words in his harsh and rugged baritone send you over the edge. You clasp and grab at him, trying to hold on as your body shakes and shudders and you bask in that moment where everything all falls away and there's nothing except the surging tides of hot euphoria.
“Fuck,” he snarls, when you open your eyes.
He grabs your ass with one hand and hooks his other arm under your knee, spreading you wide open. He’s no longer grinding, now he’s pumping hard watching himself move in and out of your swollen and sodden core.
He cups the back of your head, drawing your mouth close enough to kiss as he chases his end. His rhythmic frantic thrusts suddenly stop as he lifts his head with a long groan and holds himself deep within you. You inhale a rough breath as he imperceptibly thickens and throbs, shocked that you can actually feel each pulse of his release as it rushes up his cock.
With a final sigh, he drops his head, resting against your lips. You kiss him there softly and your lips sting with the taste of his humid skin as sweat runs down his forehead and into your mouth. It should disgust you, but instead of pulling away you kiss him again before lowering your head and nuzzling into his neck. 
You both stay there for a minute while you catch your breath and try to process what happened. You don’t know what to think, it all happened so fast, and feels so confusing. Part of you knows you should be furious, but somehow you can’t seem to muster the anger at the violation when it felt so good.
His softening cock starts to slip from your core. When it falls you feel unbelievably wet between your legs. He came inside you, you hadn’t even thought about it. A small shiver tickles at your spine. Though your core aches, the thought of his cum leaking from you was so erotic that you almost want to reach between you legs and feel it as it slowly flows from deep inside you.
Walker raises his head, his expression as calm as you’ve ever seen and his normally turbulent eyes seem serene. The corners of his mouth twitch as if he’s trying to smile, not smirk or sneer, but genuinely smile.
“I mean it,” he says, pushing errant hairs tenderly off your face. “You’re not fucking him. I’ll find another way to get what we need.”
From the look of grim determination that settles in his jaw, you have no doubts about his seriousness.
“Do I get a say at all?” you ask, your voice still trembling.
“No.”
Tumblr media
583 notes · View notes
bobbin-buckley · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
Tara Carpenter Headcanons
Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Fluff and smut
~~~~~~~~~~~
SFW
-Tara being protective of you
-She loves you so much she wants to protect you with all her heart
-You guys met in college in film class (so you never experienced Woodsboro but have heard about the ghostface murders)
-You were pretty quiet so Tara was the first to start a conversation (and asked you out)
-You both love to brag about horror movies and watch them (if you don’t like horror movies…well suffer)
-Long breathless kisses when alone together
-Kisses on her scars and telling her how much you love them whenever she gets insecure (holding her left hand and rubbing your thumb over the scar)
-Not wanting to introduce you to Sam because she’s worried Sam will scare you away
-You said it’ll be fine but when you met her Sam almost tazed you
-Being best friends with Anika (since forever)
-Hanging out with the twins a lot (they both love having you around)
-Sam watching you like a hawk
-Tara loves being big spoon, she feels that you are safe in her arms
-When ghostface came back and you got hurt she felt so guilty and wanted you to move away so you wouldn’t deal with it anymore (you said no and kissed her)
-Being final girl with Sam and Tara 🥳
-You absolutely HATE Ethan, always giving him glares and wanting to beat the living shit out of him at times (he used to bully you)
-You definitely beat the shit out of him when he hurt Tara and when you found out he was Ghostface
-Being apart of the core four (so five)
-Grieving after Anika’s death. You both were such close friends and you lost her, but you couldn’t imagine how Mindy was feeling so you were there for her. Tara always being there for you after everything (you did the same)
-Movie dates (at home or at a theatre)
-Sneaking into each others apartments
-Studying together
-Sam eventually liking you and happy for Tara
NSFW
-Switch (but prefers top)
-She loves riding your face
-Super gentle touches unless you want it rough
-Absolutely no pain play or knife play an immediate turn off
-She wouldn’t mind some ass smacking though 😏
-Oddly became a boob person once she saw your pairs for the first time. She loves your boobs clothed or not she loves to lay her head on your chest
-I could see her favorite position being missionary wether it’s her drilling her fingers into your wet cunt or thrusting her strap inside you
-Probably owns a few toys (only for you ofc 😉) sometimes she uses her vibrator on herself when she misses your touch, it’s rare tho
-When things get heated you aren’t walking for a while
-She loves giving praise (does enjoy receiving it though) she likes to tell you how good your doing for her and how you taste
“You’re doing so well for me baby, just a little more”
“God your so fucking wet, let me taste you”
“Look at you, your like dough in my hands before I even get a chance to finger you”
“Hmmm..you taste so sweet my love”
-Back to her loving your boobs, she enjoys missionary so much to watch your boobs bounce back and fourth at each thrust of her fingers or strap
“Look at these beautiful things..all mine. You look so fucking hot right now Y/n I might fuck you all night, if your so good for me”
-A huge tease. She likes to edge you with her teasing but doesn’t do it for too long. She’ll pull out her fingers or strap when you’re close to cumming or gently touches your body to get a rise out of you
-You’ll have to be quiet (she will to) if being intimate together at her apartment (if Sam catches you oh am I gonna tell you, you’re fuckin dead)
-Will treat you like a slut if you’re being bad ( in the most loving way possible)
-ALWAYS asking for consent and if you’re doing okay
“Is that okay baby? Does this feel good?”
“Want more huh? Go ahead and beg a little”
-Did I forget to mention she loves to hear you beg?
-Aftercare is Tara’s favorite part of of sex, not that she doesn’t love the intimate part but she loves taking care of you after. She’ll give soothing massages, nice luke warm bath, asking you how she did and telling you how well you did
Tara is just head over heels for you
~~~~~~~~
I swear I didn’t mean to make the vote 6 days 😭so I’ll probably delete is and make another one after this post gets some views
144 notes · View notes
globaloppaaa · 7 months
Note
omg I just read your Matthew things post and my delusions are being fueled sjdkk 🥹🥹 would it be possible to request headcanons for looking after hanbin + hao + matthew when they’re sick? I’m so weak for fluffy stuff like that 😭
glad i could feed your delusions bb 😌 and ahh how cute of a request!! i can absolutely do that for you!
might add jiwoong in there too, juuust to complete the hyung line 🥰
Tumblr media
in sickness and in health
ft. zb1 hyung line
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
warnings: nothin’ but fluff :3
Tumblr media
jiwoong will fully believe he can take care of himself until you force him to lie down and give himself a break while you prepare him his necessities. you’ll find him to be a little grumpy at your attempts to care for him, and It takes him a while to realize that he feels much better when someone he loves wants nothing more than to help him feel his best. Eventually becomes quite shy at your kind gestures, murmuring quiet ‘thank you’s whenever you simply pass by. Even if you’re attention isn’t on him in that moment, the fact you’re present at a time when he’s most vulnerable makes his heart melt.
zhang hao will genuinely need your help, because he embraces his emotional diva when he isn’t his usual, healthy self. “babyyyy can you run to the store for meee.” “honey there’s this soup recipe i’ve been dying to tryyyy.” “don’t forget to set the air conditioner down to 68!! my temperature is rising againn 😣.” He forgets about everything he said and did to you by morning, and desperately apologizes for his immature attitude. You reassure him with countless acts of affection that you’d never mind, because he’s opening his heart, and letting himself trust you at such a sensitive time. Knowing you’re determined on making him feel his greatest makes him fall in love with you more than he ever thought he could.
hanbin is definitely the kind of guy that doesn’t take help from people easily. He’s so used to leading and caring for others all the time, so it doesn’t come as much of a surprise when you find him dizzily swaying himself over to the kitchen to make himself food or grab another dose of medicine. having you be the one running around for him makes him feels worse than the illness that aches his body, fretting over something like his mere sickness. It’ll take numerous attempts, with lots of sweet talk to lay him back down before he begins to enjoy being take care of for once, especially by the one he loves so dearly.
matthew on the other hand lives for the extra quality time he gets to spend with you at first. however, it’s soon followed by his piling anxious thoughts and insecurities. ‘what if i’m too demanding?’ ‘am i being selfish?’ ‘are they thinking little of me?’. He begins to get inside his own head for greedily using his time to admire your love for him, instead of trying to get himself back into a healthy state. He wants to be able to leave you worryless and carefree, but can only rebel your affection so much when he isn’t dead asleep lmao. the way you play with his hair, stroke his cheek, and fix his sheets is enough to make him understand the tender care he’s receiving comes from nothing less than all the love you have for him. he’ll, it’s even enough to knock that man right out.
globaloppaaa© do not copy, modify, or repost my work without consent and permission
112 notes · View notes
Note
vampire!Eddie able to smell your blood pumping, after working out or just doing a lot of house/yard work, coming in from outside smelling like an absolute treat. or maybe you're both outside after dark, fooling around by the lake, getting out of breath and he just looks at you like oh, I gotta have a taste right this second, even if there's other people on the lake right now.
GOOD GOD YESSS 😩😩
eddie always making you wait to do chores and/or your workouts after dark, just so he can smell your blood pumping as you do it. you really don’t understand him—but then again, how could you? you were human, after all, this fragile little being compared to the pillar of absolute god-like strength that was now eddie. but you love him so much that you humor him, and it becomes a habit for you. after all, your life is mostly lived at night now, anyway, right? why not just put it off until then, and spend your days resting instead?
one night, you guys go out to lover’s lake. it’s an absolutely beautiful summer evening, with the smell of sun still hanging in the air, the faint scent of campfires blowing in across the water, and the smell of july humidity hanging on the lake. there are people all around, either doing some night swimming or boating, and you & eddie decide to swim, too. you stick close to the shore, away from the boats so that you don’t accidentally get run over or hurt somehow. obviously, swimming is a form of exercise, and as you swim around your area of the water, eddie can smell your blood working through your body. that, combined with the other scents all around the two of you, sends his bloodlust into overdrive.
what does he do about it? he grabs you, kissing you hard and deep, biting at your lower lip and licking up the blood from where his fangs nicked you. he’s moving down your body, slipping further into the water, his mouth all over your breasts and your stomach as he goes lower and lower. he’s eating you out beneath the water, and you’re holding onto the pillar of the dock behind you to keep yourself afloat. he’s technically dead, so he doesn’t have to breathe, and he uses it to his advantage for sure. you can also feel him biting at your groin, your inner thighs, hell, even your lower belly. none of those bites penetrate deeply—they’re shallow and just enough to tease you & draw the smallest amount of blood—but they feel good just the same.
and when you cum, he swims back up to kiss you. you’re breathless, your blood is pumping even more quickly now because of your orgasm, and that’s when you’ve never smelled sweeter. eddie can’t take it; his head is absolutely spinning with your scent, and it’s all he can think about. he just looks at you, taking in your blissed-out expression and your heaving chest, and draws you close to his body. he fucks into you upon your consent, holding you tightly so that you stay above water, his teeth at your throat as your head falls back with relentless moans as he rails into sopping cunt. you’re both aware that you could be heard, or even seen, but you don’t give a shit. eddie is too consumed with lust of all sorts to care, and all you can focus on is how good his long, thick cock feels thrusting into you at inhuman speed. he’s both blood & pussy drunk, and you’re absolutely dumb on his cock, your nails drawing blood down his back as you scratch him hard from how fucking amazing it feels.
you beg him to bite you. you need it so goddamn bad, and so does he. it’s all he could think about the minute you started swimming, and only intensified as he went down on you. he sinks his fangs into your skin, right where the shoulder & neck meet, and you moan loudly as you claw at him while you cum yet again. it was probably the fastest you ever came in your life, but is eddie finished with you? nope! he’s going to drink his fill as safely as possible, and he’s going to fuck you until he says you’re finished. which is a fact that you definitely don’t complain about, not one damn bit.
661 notes · View notes
plnkdemon · 1 year
Text
NEW AND A BIT ALARMING
satan x gn!mc inspired by beauty and the beast (could be read as platonic but written as romantic) spoilers for season one but also this is non-canon compliant, interpret that how you will. uses my own pact headcanons. tw/cw: references to satan threatening mc (non-descriptive), mention of satan harming humans in the past (non-descriptive), idiots in love, terrible writing, no beta we die like mc please let me know if anything is missing.
Satan’s experiencing an internal debate, a tennis ball bouncing from court to court with enough speed and for long enough that a persistent vertigo plagues him. Ever since he’d threatened you he’d felt terrible, much worse than he could have anticipated. Initially, their hands were filled with the ridiculous body swap situation for him to think about it. The day had culminated in him once again asking for a pact with you with purer intentions, which he’d assumed was why you’d accepted.
In the moment, to Satan, the pact felt like a more than satisfactory apology. After all, giving someone else consent and trusting them with the power to control you and harass your power… is a lot. So much trust and care went into a pact – which he now understood – but after a few days to think about it, he’d started to worry. You had accepted, sure, but that doesn’t explicitly mean that you forgive his less than trustworthy behavior or even that he’s earned that forgiveness in your eyes. For all he knows, you could have only agreed to ensure he never followed up on those threats because if there’s one thing Satan knows about humans, it’s their incredible dedication to surviving even when all the odds are stacked against them. In the Devildom, that certainly applies to you.
Through the pact, he can feel discontent (or he thinks it’s discontent, but this is his first pact and no matter how much he reads about them, nothing compares to firsthand experience). It’s definitely a negative emotion, though, and Satan feels a deep need to do something to fix it. He thinks the others feel the same way if their nervous fluttering about you is any indication. Each of them is seemingly trying to help in… their own way, so to say. Asmo is showering you in self-care (more accurately, Asmo-care, because he rarely lets you do it yourself), Beel is uncharacteristically restraining himself at dinner and prompting you to get seconds, Levi is arranging gaming marathons that actually include someone other than himself at an incredible rate, and Mammon is spending half of his allowance on watches, rings, stuffed animals, coats, and basically anything that you eyes rest on for longer than a few seconds.
That’s how Satan ended up here, anxiously loitering outside your door, raising and lowering his hand as the tennis ball continues to bounce from court to court… Just as he’s about to break the door simply for being the symbol of his indecisiveness, he feels a gentle thrum in his chest. For a moment, he stops dead in his tracks in confusion before he realizes its origin: the other end of your pact. You’re calling to him.
Gingerly, he twists the knob, opening the door to the still unfamiliar room littered with pillows, softly scented candles that float in the air, and twisting vines that create a makeshift canopy to your bed. In the low lighting of your room, he finds you lounging across the comforter, DDD in hand but your attention on the demon who just entered.
“I didn’t think you’d ever come in,” you tease, tossing the phone to the side.
Satan’s cheeks flush with an emotion he never knew he could experience: embarrassment. “You… knew I was out there the whole time?” He asks and quietly shuts the door behind him. With the new information, he’s even more doubtful of his place in your personal space leaving him with an awkward uncertainty of where he’s allowed. Thankfully, you pat the bed, and he carefully sits on the edge while he rethinks every choice that led him to this point.
“Hm, sort of,” you answer. “I can kind of… sense the proximity of you guys. When you’re all the way in town or in the class next to me, but it's not like sonar. I can’t see your exact locations.”
“Oh, that’s quite useful…” It takes a second for him to regain composure and remember his purpose for coming here. “I actually have something I’d like to show you, if you aren’t busy of course.” He hopes that he doesn’t sound as stiff as he feels. If his attempt to make you feel more at home only makes you more uncomfortable then he’d have to move to another realm and change his name or something equally as dramatic.
“Sure,” you acquiesce without complaint, allowing Satan to take your hand and guide you from the room.
While he never thought himself capable of embarrassment, he now has to worry whether or not his body would betray him by making his palms sweaty or some other nonsense. The last thing he needs right now is clammy hands while he holds your… much smaller, and much softer hand. He’s getting distracted now. Great.
You let him take the lead and follow him through the dim hallways, putting your trust in the slightly tangled and confused feelings of hope and apprehension that you can sense from the demon. Satan glances back at you often, as though concerned that you wouldn’t still be there despite holding your hand, which you have to acknowledge as pretty adorable, especially from the Lord of Wrath. Adorable, huh…? The thought catches you off-guard. You have half a mind to tell yourself off, remind yourself of the cruel words he ruthlessly and unabashedly threw at you for simply denying him something. Satan is cold and dangerous, not to be trusted even from Lucifer’s own words and one of the first warnings you received upon arriving to the Devildom.
In spite of all that, you can’t help but smile a little at his persistence in ensuring you haven’t left him. Whatever he’s leading you to must be important because he’s never sought you out since the day your pact was formed and never had before then.
“Ah, here we are,” he says breathlessly, sounding relieved and more anxious than ever before. He nods to himself, releasing your hand to use both of his to swing the double doors open. Past the doorway, a room you’ve never seen before is revealed and your breath is stolen right out of your lungs, catching in your throat.
The room is more brightly lit than the hallways that had been dimmed for the evening hours, providing more lighting for the contents within: incredibly large and overflowing shelves full of books, from what looks like any topic you could possibly want. Even more books are stacked at the edges, on top of the books in the shelves, and on the couch and chairs that fill the space.
You wander inside, mouth agape but quickly spreading into a wide grin as you take in the entirety of what is apparently the House of Lamentations library. An uncontrollable burst of laughter bursts from you, and while you continue to fill up with joy, you suddenly become aware of a feeling that isn’t your own. Replacing what was once anxiety, is now relief and, if you aren’t mistaken, giddiness coming from the demon who led you to this room.
You spin around, finding him watching you from the doorway where he still hasn’t moved with a matching smile to your own that nearly takes your breath for a second time. You don’t stop yourself this time when you observe just how handsome Satan is when he looks so happy, and for once in your time in the Devildom, you aren’t concerned about the ulterior motives behind a demon’s actions.
“This is incredible,” you say, returning your attention to the shelves that must be at least 12 feet tall. You lightly drag your fingers along the spines of one row, giggling at the possibilities that lie binded into each of them.
“I’m glad you’re pleased.” He clears his throat and finally steps into the room to join your exploration. “I know my brothers were trying to make you feel more comfortable here using things that make them happy, so I thought I might give it a try.” He’s read every book in here – some more than once – but seeing your astonishment makes him look at them in a new light. He picks up a book that was haphazardly topping one of the many towers of novels that marked the end of each row, and blushes when he recognizes the familiar cover to a romance he’d read a few years back. A new light, he thinks, faithfully returning it to an empty slot amongst the others.
“I’ve always loved reading,” you comment as you reach the end of the aisle. “Thank you, Satan. This means a lot to me.” You turn to face him, gifting him a softer smile than the wide and blinding one you had when you first entered. This one specifically for him, not for the discovery or for surprise.
His hand is still resting on the spine of the book he’d just shelved. “I could offer a few recommendations, some places to start?” Satan’s thankful for his quick thinking, because he’s still a bit stunned from the realization that you’ve never looked at him this way before.
Your eyes crinkle at the suggestion, nodding immediately. “I’d like that very much.”
-`ღ´-
For days – and before either of you notice, weeks – you both spend most of your free time amongst the books that you’re speeding through almost as quickly as Satan himself. Although your time is… limited to say the least, spread thinly between the five brothers, Satan is grateful for the moments spent together which are rarely interrupted due to his family’s aversion to reading.
“Here it is! The sequel I was telling you about,” Satan calls for you and hears you dutifully follow his voice.
Due to your human stature, the top shelves were out of reach unless you were to attempt bouldering your way up them (Satan was quick to have you promise to fetch him if something were ever out of reach after finding you attempting to scale the shelves one time). As a wingless demon, Satan makes use of his tail to reach the farthest most books, but he’s very mindful of the sharp edges that line it while he grabs the one you both were searching for.
His tail relaxes, lowering with the book within its grasp and unconsciously extending it in your direction. He thinks nothing of it while his eyes scan the neighboring books for the rest of the series until he feels a soft touch. On his tail.
Immediately, his head jerks to the side, the rest of his limbs stock still in fear of what he’s expecting. To his amazement, you seem entirely unfazed, your hands simply brushing the end of his tail as you retrieve the book from its hold. Satan is searching your body for any signs of stress or pain and your face for the telltale fear that he knows like the back of his hand. He doesn’t think a human has ever come in contact with him, let alone his tail, without begging for their life and yet, you don’t flinch at his touch.
You’re flipping the novel over to read the backside while your other hand lightly strokes along the very tops of the vertebrae that form the tip. “Thank you, Satan,” you say, sending him a quick smile before making your way back to the seating area, unknowingly leaving said demon awestruck in the middle of the shelves.
When his mind catches up with reality, it takes all of his self-control (which he luckily has quite a lot of) not to jump in place or make any humiliating noises that would be reminiscent of a high school-age human girl.
-`ღ´-
After having bonded quite closely over your shared love of books, you realize that the two of you have rarely ventured outside of the four walls of the HoL’s library together. It doesn’t bother you — the room has very quickly become your favorite place to be, so you have absolutely no criticisms regarding that or, unexpectedly, for the only other person who visits as frequently as you do — though, you find yourself curious if Satan would accompany you somewhere if asked.
Your relationship is still in its infancy, but the wariness you once wore like a piece of armor around him is long since forgotten. In its place is a warm and comforting domesticity, something far too lovely for you to question out of fear of scaring it away. That keeps you from initiating anything different from your usual routine, safely cradled in between the stacks of books and fed by the mutual peeks at the other between the shelves.
Your book is open in your lap, a finger tracing the edge as if toying with the idea of flipping to the next page even though you’ve yet to read the current one no matter how many times your eyes pass over the words. Instead, your mind is elsewhere… a café, a bookstore, a cat shelter, the bar Asmo had shown you that was too quiet for his liking but perfect for you… The only thing typing each location together is the person with you —
“What are you thinking about?” Satan’s voice shakes you from your daydream.
“What?” You’re still halfway in between naming the kitten in your head and focusing your eyes on the blonde next to you.
His investigative gaze trails over you, searching for something you aren’t sure if you’re ready for him to find. “You’ve been distracted all day, and you’ve been stuck on the same page since I joined you,” he observes. While he still seems oblivious to the fact that your daydreams had drifted to him with remarkable ease, he’s on his way to figuring it out.
You force laughter, praying for him to interpret it as natural. “Yeah, jus’ lost in the clouds,” you suggest. Satan is often caught off guard by silly human idioms, but this time he seems to catch onto your trick, shaking his head as if to rid it of the questions that already started forming.
“Hm…” He continues observing you, now more suspicious to your dismay. Just as you’re opening your mouth to end the painful silence, he snaps his own book closed and places it aside. “Let’s go out. My friend offered me his reservations at Ristorante Six after something came up.” He stands, reaching down to pull you out of the plush cushions after him.
“What?” You’re starting to feel like a broken record.
“Go get dressed to go out. I’ll meet you in twenty, that should give us plenty of time before the reservation,” Satan plows forward without giving you time to comprehend. With the soft smile that you selfishly hope is only reserved for you, he nudges you into action and you can’t find it in yourself to be particularly annoyed.
Silently, you do as he says, finding your room, meticulously searching your closet, and taking a quick detour to the en-suite bathroom for any last touches in the mirror. When you make it to the top of the stairs, Satan is already waiting at the front door, distracted by a notification on his DDD. Your shoes make a soft click against the first stair but the house echoes the noise and draws his attention to you descending the staircase.
As long as you’ve lived in this realm, it really wouldn’t surprise you if the house had some form of sentience and had purposefully become more of an echo chamber than any regular old house because you could swear your steps had never been as loud as this before. The demon that you steadily make your ways towards appears unbothered by it, though, as he watches you with a hawk-like stare.
Satan has to consciously close his mouth which had fallen open upon seeing you. Given only twenty minutes, he never imagined you could manage to pull a look like this together. If he had anticipated something like this, he would’ve given you two minutes, simply because on a regular day you managed to make his heart skip a beat. Looking like this, you very well might give him the demon equivalent of an arrhythmia. If you dare smile at him too sweetly he’s certain that this dinner will end with him face first in his salad bowl due to cardiac arrest.
He meets you at the bottom, extending an elbow for you to take if you wish. Satan’s unprepared for the feeling of your hands around his bicep even though he was the one who initiated. Although, there’s hardly a better way to die, he figures.
“Shall we?” He asks, voice quiet to avoid disturbing the peace around you both.
“We shall.” You give a cheeky grin that only grows wider when you notice the pink tint along his cheekbones. This delicate feeling, something you fretted over breaking, is perhaps stronger than you ever realized. Walking with your arms hooked together and steps in sync, it seems silly to worry about now, because there’s no one you’d rather be with and something tells you that Satan feels the exact same.
-`ღ´-
“They’re actually doing it!” Levi whisper-shouts. “This is just like I Thought You Were Mean But We’re Actually Soulmates And It Took Us Way Too Long To Figure It Out So Let’s —“
“Shut up!” Asmo elbows his brother in the ribs before eagerly peeking back around the corner to continue watching the couple walk into town.
“He better treat them to all the stops,” Mammon warns, deadly serious. “No skimping on the desert, ya know? MC deserves to be spoilt. And they’re wearing the lucky gold charm I got ‘em so maybe they oughta hit up the casino while they —“
This time, Asmo doesn’t have to physically stop the next tirade as Beel’s stomach does the job for him. “Mmm, desert. You think they’ll bring home leftovers?” A drop of drool lands on top of Levi’s head, triggering the typical outburst that the family is so good at.
From his office, Lucifer watches the sidewalk from the window, a glass of demonus in one hand and smiling gently at the scene with his siblings’ commentary in the background.
72 notes · View notes
mariamariquinha · 11 months
Text
Versos de Placer (Colonel Carrillo x f!reader) - Twelve
Tumblr media
Summary: Javier thought, brutally honest: the fuck you think you’re kidding?
Word count: 6.9k
Warnings: Brief allusion to sex, dead bodies (kinda gore), violence, torture, angst, feeling of inadequacy, people smoking, gun mention and... cop work? 🤷‍♀️
Author’s Note: In the middle of a lot of shitty things, I was able to finish editing. Am I happy with this? Maybe. I know that at some point I looked at what I was doing and liked it, so I decided to not change my mind because I’m not that reliable these days - when it comes to accept by achievements. There’s a few political comments, mostly my opinion, so beforehand I warn: I hate captalism. 
Oh, and that gif was a choice because... Yeah. It’s small, discreet, but that interaction will do some good in the future. Keep that in mind!
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤
-------------------------------
You were a cynic - that was both a curse and a relief. A relief, yes, because with that lifestyle, the best way of going through most of your shit was being resilient, added to a big dose of an anesthetized sense of reality. A curse, yes, because it was like you became a numb thing, acting by intuition even in moments where you should just be more… normal. 
It wasn't like you could blame your father, but it sure as hell wasn't something that came from your mother's side. She would definitely have a more genuine and less furtive response to whatever happened inside that office, even if you knew exactly what Carrillo’s words meant.
Because Carrillo used to talk once. 
With deliberate honesty.
You wish you could speak to her, rely on her. Suddenly it had been so long since you walked to her house, talked about your day and the plans for the weekend. Suddenly it all felt too much to handle - the violence, the traps, the long nights, the responsibility. In your moments of calm, spaced and almost non-existent, there were figures that hovered in your imagination and that, despite being equally disturbed by what that life had in store, still made you more innocently accommodated.
Running on the beach. Drinking that good coffee from across the street. Repeating the same things to Mrs. Jackson because, again, she thought you were that girl who used to sell her cigarettes during the 40s. 
It was as if all the control that kept you from smoking your cigarettes or the patience for your morning jogs had gone down the drain, just because Carrillo assumed a truth that made you as afraid as if Juan Marcos had put that knife in your jugular. 
Nobody talked about it. You went back to that room as if nothing had happened, lit a cigarette and went back to your papers; Javier and Steve maintained silence for nearly an entire hour, perhaps deciding whether to keep things as they were or whether to be more combative. Your head went back and forth with the sound of Carrillo's voice saying those things, all mixed up with the jumble of useless information that you had to review because you weren’t fucking paying attention. No one wanted to open up a hornet's nest of problems for an unofficial case in that environment so inhospitable for such indulgences.
You looked up at the sound of a glass being placed on your table - Peña poured three fingers of whiskey and that was as close as the three of you came to a resolution. Silence, then it would be. Temporary consent, in other words.
You couldn't be more grateful for the team you had there.
------------------------
“How are you feeling?”
Murphy was always comfortable being in the background as a listener - he knew himself well, he knew he needed to preserve as much stability as he could for Connie, so he avoided getting mixed up with Javier's shit or your shit, unless it had to do with work. Still, that day, a couple of weeks after that happened, Steve waited for the right moment to make his notes known, before Javi could arrive for work or anyone else entered the office.
At that moment, everything was a complete mess. Things were nothing short of heated with all that hunting for the golden eggs, with a lot of people dying and even more dead ends. Your father took your peace. You readily offered not to attend meetings with Carrillo if you could avoid it, and you even got offensive to Messina in one of her bureaucratic inconveniences. 
“Well, if you’re so worried about it, you should ask him. I’m not inside his head.”
And you remembered how Javier and Steve hid the urge to laugh, even though they were equally worried about the consequences of that comment. Fortunately, nothing happened, and afterwards it became a reason for relaxation between you. 
Which wasn't the same with Horacio.
He lived up to his word and wouldn't make your presence more than a mere inconvenience to his routine. At cluster meetings, he gave direct comments about the work and it was strange not to have any bickering sessions between you two - even if that didn't lessen the discomfort. Sometimes he would flex his fists when he heard you talk and stand back while watching you show him something on the satellite maps. Javier would look at you from the corner, Steve would watch Carrillo; sometimes they switched.
You didn't think any of that was fair. In the letters, you mentioned this to your mother and she said that it was up to you to make that decision: about how you were going to take it all forward and whether you could keep the man in his own torture. She knew, however, that it was also torture for you. That you missed the nights you spent together, the escapades at work, the way he touched you. It was too soon and too pathetic to mention feelings like 'love' or 'infatuation' or… whatever. You two were too skeptical for that. The company made everything more bearable, just as Javier had the girls and Steve had Connie. You and Carrillo didn't have anyone; or at least you didn’t. Juliana was still there for him. Always have, as it seemed. 
Maybe, deep down, that was what bothered you the most - knowing that he had a past connection and that it was easy, in a way, to take the initiative to go for the easier, more comfortable side. You couldn’t provide him that. None of it, to be honest. 
“... It happens, right? With the best and the worst of us. In the end, this is all kind of fucked up.”
You knew that in other circumstances (maybe in another life) Steve would be more reticent about this, more traditionalist. He was the type. So you didn't show much more than muttering under your breath and taking another drag on your cigarette as you continued to sit on that cheap leather couch, the morning sun scorching your back a little.
It took you a moment to answer something - when you did, you saw that he looked uneasy, as if he wanted to say something else.
“I’m fine.” 
“You just make it sound like it's a sacrifice.”
And it wasn't really a sacrifice - in that kind of profession, there was a fine line between just choosing the best and giving things up. Addictions went hand in hand with lucidity, just as the withdrawal from a normal life distanced you from the fact that not having a gun in your belt was like walking naked. You knew yourself; like any human being, you clung to the smallest moments of comfort, stability, joy and pleasure that arose. You were weak for the good life, tired of the constant resilience and warning signs that went off in your head every single day.
Again, you almost left him unanswered. Steve noticed your uncertainty, though. It scared the shit out of you.
“... It’s complicated.”
“Not that I want to be a bitch or something-”
“I know.”
“-But it’s a surprise. 
If he still had the innocence to believe in the system that governed their lives, Steve would be indignant, be the church boy he always was. But no, that wasn’t the case - at least he didn’t show it. He had seen the real world too brutally to fill it with more moralism; otherwise he would ignore it, be rational, move on. Then he blew the smoke that was stuck inside his mouth, shook his head and smiled, all the while staring at the ashtray on his table.
“You two used to hate each other.”
“Yeah.”
“Is it some kind of kink? Love-hate stuff?”
You scoffed a laugh, shaking your head and mirroring the smirk he threw in your direction. 
“At least it wasn't on my table,” Steve teased, as if coming to the realization just seconds before. “Isn’t that fucking considerate?”
As usual, you both laughed with an almost hopeless acceptance surrounding what little humor you shared. Not that it was fun, or worthy of such genuine laughs, just… That. Rational complicity. And you didn't want to ruin the moment, but inside there was another reason for your amusement - when you and Carrillo were making out in the building back in the day, maybe you bumped into something or other on Steve's desk, and you almost broke his desk lamp.
Rational complicity then, you decided, averting your gaze from Javier, who entered the office with nothing more than a grumbled ‘good morning’. 
-------------------------
The landscape became more arid, spaced out - at the very least, isolated. You stared at the bodies splayed out on that cave, trying to somehow decipher what could not be deciphered. There was a morbid but equally cold atmosphere surrounding this discovery; you watched five Carrillo men taking one by one out of that hole, placing them side by side for further identification. The youngest of them was nothing more than 20 years old; at some point, you just turned your head to the side because the ones with more time there were already smelling. 
You stomped to a distant spot and, making sure no one was looking, you threw up. Years of experience or all the circumstances of that job didn't always make you have such a strong stomach. Later that day, you found yourself in your apartment just to brush your teeth - that led to a few minutes of a shower you thought would clean all of those images inside your head. 
Again, you sat alone in the office with more than enough whiskey inside a cup and a third cigarette ready to be lit between your lips. Steve rushed home to Connie; Javier had a puzzled expression on his face when he noticed that you would stay, but you assured him that it was okay, that nothing would happen. For the first time in days, you felt sure of something. 
“Stechner will follow Juan Marcos' lead.”
You turned your eyes from the mountain of papers in front of you, brows raised at the sudden intrusion - out of politeness or not, your father didn’t ask what you were doing there. At worst, he took the cigarette out of your mouth and made you tsk.
“He can be more persuasive than the rest of us, I suppose,” You said nonchalantly. “Or just more than me.”
Again, if he noticed the way you eyed him up and down, probably too full of bitterness, your father decided to keep it to himself, both hands behind his back.
“You agree, then?”
“That's not a question you associate with someone like Stechner.” It sounded almost like a warning, a subtle message of how your ‘soft spot’ used to lead your conceptions and moral judgements to a place way more complicated for that line of work. 
He hummed. Nodded his head. You thought that the conversation was over, of course, but you always should know better than to believe your father could be less than suffocating.
“I figured we could have dinner. I know a place nearby, still discreet enough.” 
“Trying to make me feel better?”
“We're past the stage of understanding that this is your mother's job.” 
The blunt honesty with which he said it made you consider the possibility more; it would be more than enough, spending some time with your father, to understand that there were people in life who knew how to make moments more bitter - or bitter enough to distract your mind from the worst. 
So you accepted. 
Frijoles Rancheros, he said with the best accent he had. 
“Didn't you stop with that?” He said, again, this time without the flirty smile to the waitress or the good Spanish of his.
“Tried to,” You shrugged, cigarette finally being lit and the smoke flowing through the air. 
“Not tryin’ anymore?”
“I needed to keep my list of disappointments with you,” With a smirk, you leaned more comfortably against the chair you sat at, legs crossed and eyes with that devilish spark he hated so much. “What brings you here? Stechner missed you licking his balls or something?”
“... We talked.” He said in a low, stern tone. “Apparently even the CIA knows how to recognize your work around here.”
“So you talked about me.”
“About your achievements, that is. Too emotional-”
“Of course,” You scoffed, dragging more of your cigarette with sarcasm dripping from your tone.
“-But efficient. The one raising your voice to the stubborn Colonel Horacio Carrillo.”
The mention made your stance falter, but just for a moment. You gave him a side-eye, then got back to look at anything but his face - not wanting to fail in your attempt to not show how affected you felt. It sounded like a sin, the fact that your father would use such an indifferent manner to talk about Horacio. How it was so easy for him, a man with so many flaws, to talk about Carrillo as if he was just as insignificant as… Anything. You grew defensive. The guy could still have that way of his, but you didn’t act (even before) like he was nothing. 
“Is it supposed to be a bad thing?” You decided to ask instead, watching him sip his beer faster so he could answer. 
“Have I already told the story of Cúcuta?” 
Probably, but you didn’t pay enough attention back then and wouldn’t pay there. Still, he kept talking. 
“We had discovered that some communist groups were regrouping and we took the National Police guys there. You know, for fact-finding.”
Or killing. Whatever he called it to make him lay his head on the pillow every night. 
“We stayed there for two weeks. Maybe Carrillo was involved, I can't be sure,” But then he got quiet, as if it was the end of the story. After a few beats of silence, you made a face.
“And…?”
“Ah, well, I didn’t know he had that in him to become what he is now. Not the most remarkable cop, but committed to the cause. Very Catholic, however, he called his mother every day. It amazes me that he has come as far as being on the front lines to catch Escobar. It takes a certain obscurity to be good at this job.” 
You considered it silently, watching your dad's grimaces as he just talked about the situation like it was a normal thing. Maybe it was after all. Reality was lighter if you took it as a routine, using conformism as a shield. You wondered if he knew about what happened with you that afternoon - if Carrillo, once, was the type of guy who would throw up because of it. You even wondered, with the space your father gave while simply not paying attention to you, what it would be like to meet that version of Horacio and whether he would make the same decisions, or think that this would be his future.
“I'm sure he has his own demons just like anyone else,” You said out of nowhere, taking in the way the man just watched your motions. “No one gets away with this kind of shit.”
“This shit is catching a communist pig like Escobar.”
Communist, you almost laughed, but you didn't argue. You couldn't even count the number of Americans involved in the lists of secondary cartels in the States, nor how many white-faced people who signed Republican votes negotiated with these 'communists', which only made you more skeptical of the idea of ​​what you were really doing there or the kind of person you had the pleasure of not being raised by.
Under the circumstances, Carrillo's revulsion was understandable.
“You know, you really look like your mother.”
“Conscious?”
“Naive. Maybe not all the violence in the world will make you realize that we are not always the villains.” 
“... No,” You puffed out more of the smoke, arching an eyebrow. “Sometimes you find a shallow ditch full of bodies and it turns out to be Escobar's fault.”
Because everything, from the bastard son who was hidden in the bowels of that country to the resistant hands of Juan Marcos against your neck, had a finger of the communists. If the pain you felt earlier or the pain you felt in childhood with his absence existed, it was because of the communists.
Damn communists.
-------------------------
You threw the other two packs of cigarettes in the trash that same night, as soon as you got back to the office.
With effort, you would remember to look for nicotine patches or anti-smoking gum in the morning.
-------------------------
Carrillo was familiar with the feeling of self-repression, and for some reason, he too deserved the strict discipline. Never a hair out of place, but that same hair wouldn't be styled any other way than the way he saw fit; short, practical, that was not an interruption but also a form of imposing.
This discipline made him learn that the way we present ourselves says something about us. That's why he really didn't understand why he saw you with a subtlety that definitely didn't exist in that job and, consequently, in you.
That day, you were at one of those reunions. The atmosphere was tense, as always, but Carrillo watched you climb on a small step to gain access to a higher part of the discreet shelf in the corner of the room to reach a cup, all the while laughing at something Peña was saying. It wasn't just the way your thighs flexed in the material of your jeans or the way everything felt tight enough that you had the flexibility to move; your manner changed, your modus operandi. There were no delicate mannerisms in your posture, nor in your approach - the harsh parts made you look like a hedgehog, even with that smile on your face.
If the whole situation had hurt you the way it seemed to him, if… that moment, inside the office, had a similar meaning, he didn't know, but he understood the mystery. There was so much going on and suddenly you had your dad and your issues and your life; Carrillo knew better than anyone that neither he nor you would want to bring up yet another drama. 
He valued that effort, was familiar with it. As at other times when Horacio had to be the rational figure, the loneliness of being dedicated to a discipline was something he knew well how to live with.
Carrillo also knew your frustrations about your father were bubbling to the brim. You tried to cover it up as best you could, always scratching the back of your neck or looking away when a CIA decision interfered with the DEA's. It was obvious that hanging out with guys like him could be like idle work - he, of all people, knew that being here on the ground following more archaic strategies wasn't your style. Or worst: that his presence there meant that he was almost always a flawed tool of a plan he was never fully a part of.
For him, watching you was like watching all the energy that walked beside your manners when you arrived disappearing because, in the end, it sounded as if only he, Horacio, saw the full magnitude of your achievements and efforts. Like an awed spectator of a hungry muse, all teeth and claws for what she believed but cutting off by… the others.
“You know that’s bullshit, right?” You said then, sitting at the edge of the table after serving a good amount of coffee. “I remember seeing you there and I’m pretty sure the night ended really differently.” 
“Well, we didn't say goodbye on my doorstep.”
Carrillo frowned at the suggestion, especially at the way you two seemed to forget he was there too, watching Javier using that natural flirty personality with you. And then you turned to see Steve walking in with Trujillo, away from the commotion, and when Horacio decided that it was his sign to stop staring at you, he saw Peña himself sending him a curious gaze. 
That day, Horacio discovered that Javier had been measuring the situation like a scientific project.
“No tenemos tiempo para esto.” We don't have time for this. 
Was all Carrillo said as soon as the reunion was over and they were walking side by side down the corridor. 
“No se de que estas habl-” I don’t know what you're talking ab-.
“Tu sabes.” You know. 
They both stopped in their tracks, interrupted by the Colonel's gruff voice and the way he jerked him around with a shoulder pull. Javier frowned, tried to understand where that all came from, then raised his eyebrows at the realization. He sighed, looked around and put his hands on his hips.
“¿Alguien te ha dicho alguna vez que no eres la persona más sutil que hay?” Has anyone ever told you that you're not the most subtle person around?
Horacio kept quiet. Caught. 
“Su padre es un gilipollas, quizás uno de los peores con los que me he cruzado. Ha dejado muy claro que quiere la oportunidad adecuada para sacarla de aquí.” Her father is an asshole, maybe one of the worst I've ever come across. He's made it very clear that he wants the right opportunity to get her out of here.
And for a moment, Carrillo almost understood those motivations. If he was a worried parent, he wouldn't sleep easy knowing his only daughter was putting herself in front of bullets or curled up in the arms of a fucking narco, nearly suffocated to death. He himself didn't like to imagine what would have happened if he hadn't gotten there in time. 
“... No estaba coqueteando con ella, si eso es lo que te preocupa. Nunca saldríamos bien, esa mujer es una diabla.” I wasn't flirting with her, if that's what you're worried about. We would never work out, that woman is a devil.
True. So true. 
“Pero es mejor que decidas qué va a ser de eso, porque está bastante claro que te estás engañando a ti mismo.” But you better decide what's going to become of it, because it's pretty clear you're kidding yourself.
Javier didn't elaborate, and despite not being the most sensitive of men, Carrillo knew when he was being put up against something he was avoiding. As Peña walked away with a frustrated posture, he wondered if that was the effect he had on you, of disappointment at being… him.
Of course, he didn't openly mention this to anyone, nor did he feel able to do so; to the fullest, he reinforced his serious expression when he saw you leave the operating room and look for someone. You looked one way, then the other, and saw him standing there. Something must have gone through your mind with the way you swallowed hard and clenched your fists - Carrillo wondered if it was the same memory of that night in your apartment, when you were still fresh from sex and with other perspectives.
For an instant, just one, he felt it. Like a replica of that same night.
When he was the first to look away, smothered by the idea and tempted by the sensation you offered those days, Carrillo knew he was probably letting you down again.
As he should. 
-------------------------
You felt frustrated. You'd been having that feeling for a while before the whole Carrillo situation, but it wasn't like you could deny that that disappointment had lessened dramatically once you'd spent time in his bed.
They began to monitor letters sent by employees exported from the States. Peña always walked around with an even more frown on having the letters he sent to his father being invaded in this way and, as much as Steve didn't complain while having Connie there, he complained about the intrusion just like Javier.
You felt suffocated. 
That’s how you ended up getting fucked inside a restroom stall, legs attached to the sides of the hips of a guy named Carlos and dress hiked up to make it easy for him to access… you. Or your decency, if such a term existed at the moment. There was an effort there, though. Carlos made the time well spent. When you went home that night, maybe you really were more relaxed, your shoulders less rigid and your spine relaxed.
But there was a reason you couldn't sleep a wink that night.
Carlos was Carlos, not Carrillo.
Perhaps, you tried to justify, it was because there was a greater reason than just the attraction with the two of you. There was an almost paranoid fear that the days were uncertain, the daily stress of a job that seemed to be failing and the frustrations - Carlos was Carlos, not Carrillo. The kisses, the touches, the look; two opposites. You would close your eyes if you were Horacio, you would sleep like you haven't slept in days. Surely you wouldn't wash yourself so vehemently after sex either if it was him. 
It wasn’t though. It was Carlos. 
So when the phone rang around two, you got up without difficulty and answered it on the second ring. There was no need to rub your eyes to chase away sleep because it didn't exist, even if physical fatigue made you massage your shoulder while listening to a brief recorded message from a woman saying it was a private and recorded call.
“¿Es usted responsable del caso de Juan Marcos de las Puentes?” Are you responsible for the case of Juan Marcos de las Puentes?
The voice was too Latin to be Javier's and too different to be Carrillo's; even if it were one of them, they wouldn't use Spanish or act like they didn't know you. Your first reaction was frown - and the second, unconsciously, was to look around as if the answer to the as yet unspoken question was in your living room. 
“... Sí. ¿Quien habla?” Yes. Who’s speaking?
“Soy Frances Tenorio, directora encargada del Centro Especial de Detención de Medellín.” I'm Frances Tenorio, director in charge of the Medellín Special Detention Center.
The last time someone called you this late at night, five years ago, was when the family found out that your grandmother had passed away. Your uncles, two other men who lived in the South, asked if it made sense for you to help them with the funeral arrangements - not that there was any intimacy to it, but because she would like to be treated with a delicacy that none of the three had. You took responsibility because you knew your father wouldn't do it out of hurt. He never had a good relationship with his mother.
Still, all that cold commitment to ensuring that the body was well treated and the ceremony well organized, such as the mass that took place seven days later, did not compare to the coldness with which you reacted to Frances' words.
There was no clarification and you didn't ask; just requests you weren’t so used to having, but obliged anyway. You listened to the instructions, hung up, got dressed - gun in the holster, badge on your belt. When you left, you locked the apartment door as usual, walked down the hall, got in the car and realized that the radio was still on a specific station, at that time of night repeating romantic songs. You didn’t turn it off. 
Your mind hesitated to do the call - you didn’t want to. Circumstances did not have an exact logic in the chronology of the facts that you knew. Juan Marcos wasn’t supposed to be there, least in Medellín. Whatever the fuck Stechner tried to do wouldn’t be placed there for obvious reasons. There were at least five people who received that kind of information before you, and suddenly the director of a place you didn't even know was part of Juan Marcos' punishment had your phone number. It was statistical to know that no one died like that at a time like this - the guy was a bull, healthy from head to toe, with at most a late tetanus vaccine.
Then, all of the sudden-
“As I said, dead.” 
Frances didn't have the best of English, but the heavily accented words made a lot of sense in your ears, even if they didn't make sense on their own. His office was poorly lit, and generally speaking, you had a lot of questions, but you just stared at that death certificate with nothing but open confusion on your face. Perhaps it was the way you lagged to say something, because Frances kept talking.
“The National Police was already warned about-”
“The National Police?” You abruptly raised your head. 
“It's the norm. Rules. I couldn't let another gringo into my jail alone.”
Before you could ask what he meant or process the information, you noticed someone entering the door and, of course, it needed to be Carrillo. The National Police. He looked at you with a big frown, then at the officers behind and Frances - mad. 
“¿Desde cuándo es este un protocolo aceptable?” Since when is this an acceptable protocol? Horacio asked in a harsh tone, standing right beside you. Looking at the door again, you spotted Trujillo, confused and a little taken aback by the sudden situation. 
“Llegaron los gringos y tenían orden de interrogatorio. Eso es protocolo, tú lo sabes mejor que nadie.” The gringos showed up and had an interrogation warrant. That's protocol, you know that better than anyone.
“Que gringos?” 
The silence that followed, short but helpful, was like an obvious answer to an even more obvious question. You faced the early death certificate, then Carrillo, who didn't express any reaction. You, by yourself, couldn’t express any reaction.
“I want to see the body.” 
“Qué?” What?
“Do you think that’s a good id-”
“Quiero ver el cuerpo. ¿Ahora me entiendes?” I want to see the body. Do you understand me now?
Carrillo wasn’t combative with your interruption, nor with the way you were snappy with Frances; otherwise, he nodded in approval of your request, as if none of that hadn't already been the same as everyone in that jail dropping their pants for the CIA's threats, as if they needed just Carrillo’s approval. 
At some point in your education, you learned about the special rooms for political prisoners during the communist uprising and the government's quiet work of putting down Sierra Maestra-influenced guerrillas. 64, the formative year of half the men inside those halls and, arguably, the golden memories of that Frances Tenorio. With the 'peace sealed' by right-wing groups, you knew that many of these rooms became normal interrogation spaces or, as in the case of that institution, an improvised mortuary that looked more like a shallow spawning pit.
Fractured skull from a fall, the obituary said. They were opening an internal investigation into a possible gang rebellion.
Juan Marcos was a man nearly six feet tall, with truly thick arms, long legs, and robust from head to toe. You knew his weight, strength and physical skills like no one else. The hands, you noticed, did not bear a single mark of retaliation or defense. You would know if he had; moreover, healed from the clash with you months earlier. Looking from there, with nothing but a pale, lifeless face, motionless, you noticed that Juan Marcos looked no less frightening or dangerous or… Well, the face of a criminal. 
You wondered how many guys came to do the job. Two to tie, one to intimidate - maybe one more to watch. They used to had this one.
“Is your father in Medellín?” Carrillo asked in a low tone, not daring to disturb the intense staring you’re giving the guy right in front of you two. 
“Nn-nn,” You shook your head slightly, then turned to Frances. “Stechner.”
“Protocol.” Was all he said, already turning to leave the room but probably standing still on the other side of the door. 
Three fingernails had been torn out and there were electric shock marks on his nipples, groin and mouth. The face was disfigured and torn by what looked like blows; if you turned him on his side, you probably would see the marks on the backs of the knees just as you saw them on the wrists and heels. The corpus delicti examination, still unsigned as well as the obituary, only recorded the head injury that didn't really exist - done with a typewriter that probably came from the office you had come not so shortly before.
When you raised your head, Carrillo was watching you carefully, measuring every reaction that could come out of your neutral expression. He knew how it was. He did it himself. You could see that, probably, he was just mad that he wasn't responsible for it. Maybe you were too, just a little - deep down, better saying. 
“I need a cig.”
The conversation must have lasted ten, fifteen minutes? You only managed to finish the first one, leaning against the hood of the car and alone in the side parking lot of the prison. The nicotine patch must have been lost somewhere in those hallways and his arm was still marked by the glue. When you went to take the second cigarette in your mouth, you saw Horacio approach and also the way your hands were shaking. He chose not to be at your side, but in front of you; as soon as you lit the cigarette, you kept both elbows resting on the car hood behind you.
No one said anything for a good minute. When you dared to give him a look, just once, Carrillo was lighting a cigarette for him - something way stronger than yours, as always. 
“What was it?” You broke the silence with a single question, one he just shrugged at first. “I’ll give it an hemorrhagic shock.”
“I’ll give it a fractured skull from a fall.”
“Please,” You scoffed, raising the cigarette to your lips again. 
“The CIA put in their report that the last operation didn’t suffer any casualties. I had to sign two letters of removal and I almost signed one of death. So yes, a fractured skull from a fall. ” 
It was difficult. You knew it was. When you started to get close to him and understand a little more of what was there, under the skin, you could see that his biggest frustrations were in the fact that the potential of his work was limited. There would always be a Stechner, a CIA, a DEA, a bunch of outsiders with funny accents and shitty Spanish. That he, as a man and as a professional, always had the cards in his hand but would only play them if someone from above said so; that when he started to overcome this hierarchy, he was banished to Madrid and then back with a freedom tied in very loose halters, under conditions that you didn't know, out of sheer whim.
Carrillo knew those marks and those consequences - many had his name transcribed. And he could say it was hemorrhagic shock or whatever the fuck fucked up Juan Marcos' life, but you both knew that outcome held particular satisfaction for him. At least enough to accept it unchallenged.
“... He was my suspect,” You said in a defeated tone, blowing smoke in the air. “It's pretty stupid of me to think they'd at least consult me ​​first, right? To say they would come here to destroy the guy?” 
“Yeah. But you’re smart all the same.” 
“Not enough to not do the math on why my dad pretended he wanted to have dinner with me.” 
“He wanted?”
“He did it.” You responded vehemently, tapping your thumb on the end of your cigarette to knock out more of the ash. “I should have known better when I saw him there in the office so late at night. Talking about Stechner taking the lead as if he wasn’t already planning on killing the motherfucker.”
“And do you think it would have made a difference if you had known?”
“... No.”
You didn't say it was because you were witnessing what your father could do for the first time and that it scared the shit out of you; they were childish thoughts. After years of paddling against the tide, seeing him miss his own mother's wake and even all the disappointments he could’ve caused you, everything was more tolerable when his stories were just that: stories. You also had your share of lives under your belt: one guy in Compton, one in South Beach, one more in a warehouse during a drug traffic operation. Still, you learned to live with them because it was your job. Yours only. And sometimes you could forget that someone who was supposed to give you a little more petting reduced you to one more small obstacle to doing his.
Again. And again. And again. 
You felt stupid. Naive. Again.
“It’s like fucking Hotel California,” You muttered, eyes closed and fingers massaging your temple. 
“Like what?” He asked in sincere curiosity, making you look at him in time to spot his own cigarette mid air. 
“Like the song. On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair…? Nothing?” Your hands gesticulated. 
“Too gringo for me,” Carrillo inhaled on his cigarette and pretended (pretended) he was keeping a straight face. You rolled your eyes.  
“Your friend Frances must agree with that.”
“By your time here, you should know that not everyone trusts you.” 
“There’s a few exceptions.” You defended. 
“Yeah, some people might lose certain opinions for one person or another.”
With another drag on your cigarette, you let out a low 'huh' and shook your head, but when you glanced back at Carrillo, you saw that he was watching you with a very wide gaze. Again, measuring your reactions, as if trying to send a message with his silence. You did the same. 
It's been a while since you've been like this, with time to observe each other and capture details that captivated your encounters. He was more tired, visibly fresh out of his static spot in the office on the upper floors, probably with a couple of glasses of whiskey in his system. Damn pretty, you could add. Prettier than Carlos - poor Carlos. 
He broke eye contact first. 
“You’ll talk with your father?”
“Well, at least to know if it was hemorrhagic shock.”
“I don't know if this will make you sleep better.”
“Nah,” You shrugged, tilting your head to the side. “Just looks like I forgot the guy can be sadistic as fuck.” 
“Habit.”
“Personality.”
Again, silence. This time though, you were the first one to break eye contact, mostly because that thing got into a place you wouldn’t like to go. You didn’t tell Carrillo, probably wouldn’t, but your mind was building scenarios and creating perspectives about something you really preferred to forget. 
Your mom always knew better - you wished you weren't so curious as to choose the same career as your father to know what kind of shit he did.
“You’re going back to the office?” 
“Yes.”
“Mm,” He walked in your direction, but went straight to the door to open it. Before he could do it, though, Carrillo turned to you. “I would do the same.”
You nodded. 
“I know.”
“And you too.”
“Not with the same motivation,” You looked at him nonchalantly. “I have personal reasons. The type I could understand.”
“He don’t?”
“Well, we’re not the same,” Another shrug, this time dragging more of the cigarette before blowing the smoke out the side. “Perhaps I’m more different for not being adept at this, but is it really that different? I don't feel guilt, but I do feel angry that he disappeared with a guy who could give me information. Screw his life, right?”
“... Sometimes this type of life makes us forget that we are humans. You're not Gandhi or any shit like that, you're you. Flesh, bone and a gun in hand, ready to fire at the right time. I would do it, because I know what he's done to other people, but I've also seen what he's done to you.” 
He took a step closer - just one. And when you instinctively backed away with your eyes closed and a hurt murmur coming from your throat, Carrillo froze in place. 
“We don’t need to talk-”
“I know.”
“But stop playing with me, Horacio. Stop.” For a moment, he looked confused, then noticed something that perhaps even you didn’t and nodded in defeat. “Don’t be like him. Not now.”
Don't be opportunistic like him, don't be selfish like him, don't be capricious like him, don't use you like he always did. That's what you meant. That he shouldn’t pretend he didn’t say no twice and approached you later with some kind of warm conversation because it seemed convenient. You didn't need it - what you wanted and what you accepted he denied too quickly.
“... I’ll be back in the office.” You said after a time, eyes on the floor right where the cigarette landed and hand brushing your left eyebrow. “Body identified, death certificates and stuff like that. It's just, isn't it? Do you proceed from here?” 
Carrillo gulped, considered your face like a brave man and said a simple ‘yes’ before insisting on opening the goddamn door for you. And you let him, even when he stood there, the door now closed, staring at you through the open window. 
“Good night, Colonel.” 
“... Good night.”
He tapped the opening twice, took three long steps back and inhaled on the cigarette which, as you had barely noticed, was still lit in his hand. You watched him through the rearview mirror, just for a moment longer, and after that split opportunity you also stared at your own eyes - coming to a conclusive revelation. One you already knew, in fact. 
Carlos was Carlos. Carrillo was Carrillo. 
And damn you for always choosing the complicated ones. 
--------------------------
No pressure tags:
@cheesybadgers
@thesandbeneathmytoes
@616wilsons ​
@nessamc
@thoroughlymodernminutia
@padbrookcottage
@mysoulisasunflower​ 
36 notes · View notes
kaedeakeshisworld · 2 years
Text
One night stand
Update on the series: I know I'm slacking like a tad bit. My migraine condition has worsened so I had to care of it because I can't do a single thing when they happen. So, I'm feeling much better that is why I got back today.
Tumblr media
cw: as always black reader intended, modern au, love hotel setting, Kakyoin knows what he is doing, Kakyoin is a gentleman, reader is asexual but not sexually repulsed( yes, it is possible. Being asexual and sex repulsed is as valid as the former one mentioned!), doggy sex position, Kakyoin's thumb pokes reader's butthole( had to mention it 'cause it is what it is), missionary but upgraded (idk, I was lazy and didn't look it up)
wc: 548
aperçu: reader and Kakyoin are having sex for the first time. You know what they say about those quiet guys right…
Tumblr media
You were already an hour in. It’s making you question whether this was even a good idea from the start. Yes, both of you are consenting adults but this man wants to milk you dry. While his strokes don’t seem to falter, he pokes your butthole with his thumb. This surprises you but it also feels really good, like you can get used to this kind of touch if it is him that does it to you. He thinks this seems to get her going. His goal is to literally make sure not a single soul is going to be able to properly fuck you and as a result, you have to come back to him if you want to get your back blown out. He is doing this to you, imposing this brutal pace upon your body for all those times where you told him “ You can’t properly fuck me, you’re too vanilla for that!” He has a firm grip on your hips, his relentless thrusting doesn’t falter and hits that spongy spot dead on. You know he is going to murder your pussy. He says “You like that don’t you? You keep gripping this dick so much, huh!” You can’t answer him, your attempts are really useless. You try “Ye-nnnhhh, I really- aahhhh…” you paused, it’s hard to talk to him while he’s drilling you as if there is no tomorrow. You try again to finish your response “ I like it” you managed to tell him but it only seems to motivate him to go harder! And you are not ready for the next pace he has in store for you.
If the previous pace was already a bit too much to handle, this one it’s something else. Now, his pace is bruising you the best way possible. He holds your legs up against his chest, your ankles are on his shoulders and now he is looking into your eyes. The malicious glint clearly lets you know that he is not done with you. His smirk belongs to someone else, this doesn’t look at all like him. Where did the shy Kakyoin from earlier go? But you’re pulled back to reality by his potent strokes that make his pelvis graze your clit and you know that a little bit more stimulation on that area will do wonders. 
He hasn’t slowed down, did not stop and you are a mess. Your head is lolled to the side, your tongue is hanging out of your mouth. The way you’re drooling onto the sheets, your eyes roll back, you try your hardest to tell him to slow down because you are five orgasms in and this heat building in your core is not the regular kind of orgasm. He really loves to watch your face contort with pleasure while he is the one making you like this. It definitely does boost his confidence.
You’re too fucked out to even hear what he is telling you, you just want this to be over. He is currently admiring the mess you’ve done on his dick. That cream ring looks so good he thinks that he has to fuck you thorougly this way. You are really meant to be his and his only even if it is just a one night stand .
Tumblr media
Fic 8 of pride series
Comments and reblogs are immensely appreciated!!
Taglist : @diamond-3, @txtgojou
2022 © All rights reserved to @kaedeakeshisworld. Translations, modifications, replicas or even property of my achievement are not allowed without my approval. Do not repost/ recommend/ share it elsewhere!
58 notes · View notes
squashfics · 2 years
Note
I’m curious, what would be your take on a Werewolf/Lychan Chris? Like he comes home after a mission and he’s just a little off but get’s back to his old self after a bit. Then the full moon starts to get closer and things get a bit… weird again in the Redfield-Reader household. Idk what do you think?
Ohhh anon this is a dangerous game you’re playing. Because werewolf movies are one of those things i love so so much but i never talk about. get me talking about them and i won’t shut up. I tend to stay away from it in fics because it’s usually pretty meh for characters like Karl (idk i know some people wish he was the lycan guy but as someone who was responsible for my own sibling’s pet I can see why he’s just the guy the lycans got adopted by) and the smut is hit or miss, and if it’s a miss it’s usually because consent is sold separately. i’m definitely not doing that this week. or… ever. but ask me about An American Werewolf in London or Ginger Snaps and I will tell you how much I love it to bits. so I’m pulling out all my “fear of oneself” and “lycanthropy as a metaphor” tropes for this one. By the way that’s y’all’s homework assignment: what’s it a metaphor for here?
hurt/comfort. lots of it
-
This wasn’t the first time you’d seen your husband come home carrying immeasurable grief with him, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. Death seemed to follow Chris everywhere he went, and in every pile of dead bodies he remained alive. After a certain number of times, though, the survivor’s guilt turned to numbness. Being the sole survivor was just how things were for him.
He didn’t show it, but he was afraid, for you, his friends, his sister, and even though he was a pretty reasonable, rational person, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was him.
But he was always happy to see you again.
Still very much “on the battlefield” from the way he looked all around the room a few times before settling into bed. Yeah, it was new, a little dog-like, but you had grown used to him still checking his surroundings or loading a gun that wasn’t there due to muscle memory. And yes, he was very much a fan of those videos of people showing tactical reloading of things that never needed tactical reloading. They always cheered him up.
But things were different. Chris didn’t have much body hair before, just some faint chest hair around the sternum, arm and leg hair, and a happy trail, but now it was all thicker, and it had gotten to that point so quickly. At first you thought you had just been away from him for so long you’d forgotten what he looked like, but no. His entire chest was covered with thick brown hair, existing hair in its places was thicker, and—huh, someone who did so much punching wouldn’t neglect to clip their nails for this long. BSAA dress code seemed to value short nails over practical haircuts at times, but even his hair and beard were getting shaggy. Maybe he was just trying to rest and he could afford to not keep things trimmed for a while, but they’d also grown fast in a short amount of time. He also started to have a difficult time sitting, but he never let you see him from behind, so you never got to find out why.
And then one night, Chris wasn’t in bed.
You knew you’d gone to bed with him, but you woke up to use the bathroom only to find the bed empty.
Your first instinct was to call him, maybe he had a mission right now or some late-night paperwork, or maybe he just went for a walk to clear his head, but his phone was sitting on his nightstand, plugged in and charging. Okay, maybe he was out for a walk and didn’t want to be reached. That was fine. You tried to tell yourself to let it go; Chris hated people making a big fuss about him. Besides, there was clearly nothing you could do, so you decided to just let it lie for now and go back to sleep.
Shame. It was a full moon tonight, and when it shone through your bedroom window he looked gorgeous laying in bed, tangled up in bedsheets and illuminated by the moonlight.
He still wasn’t back the next morning, but you decided to make breakfast for two anyway. Maybe he’d be back in time. You started off with some bacon, frying it in the pan and letting it sizzle, eating the first few test pieces you overdid just a bit to tide yourself over.
The front door opened and you ran from the kitchen, suddenly remembering there was reason to worry about him. Expecting to find him in messy clothes, either tired or hungover or both, you saw your husband completely naked, covering himself with a trash can lid, and suddenly lacking all the thick, overgrown body hair, and his nails were short again.
“I…” he stammered.
“Just put some clothes on,” you sighed. “And come eat.”
He sniffed the air. “I thought I smelled bacon.”
“It’ll be ready in a few minutes. Just get dressed and then you can explain why you just streaked home.”
“Right.”
You went back to making breakfast, and a few minutes later Chris was dressed and looking pretty glum.
“Where were you last night?” you asked, rushing to hug him, but he stepped back.
“Don’t touch me,” he said. “I don’t know what I did last night, but I remember trying to keep my distance so that I wouldn’t hurt you, next thing I know it’s the next morning and I’m laying in the wolf habitat of the fucking zoo!”
“What the hell were you doing in the wolf habitat at the zoo?”
“Wolf things? Wait, turn on the TV. Check the news.”
He scrambled for the remote and turned on the local news. You followed him into the room to see him sitting on the couch with his head in his hands and the news headline reading, 5 DEAD IN ATTACK BY UNKNOWN ANIMAL.
“It’s always been my fault,” he said softly. “It’s always been my fault people die on my watch, and now I’ve actually killed people.”
“Chris, what’s going on?” you asked. “I know you blame yourself for what happened to Ethan, but this? This has nothing to do with you! You make it sound like you turned into a werewolf or something!”
“But that’s exactly what happened!” he exclaimed. “Look. I… I guess I owe you an explanation.”
“You think?” you asked.
“Sit down.”
You sat with him on the couch.
“There were these things in the village,” he said. “Lycans. Take a fungal parasite that can make you nine feet tall, give you the ability to control metal, or change your body entirely. Then some wolf DNA. Put it together and that’s how you get lycans. I was finishing up some things when I got attacked by one. It scratched up my shoulder something awful.”
“They must’ve healed pretty fast, then,” you said.
“In minutes,” he said. “Like it never even happened. Since nobody could see anything wrong with me, they sent me home. And, well, you saw what happened. And last night was the full moon, so…”
He sighed.
“I’m dangerous now,” he said. “If I killed five people while I was out last night, imagine what I could do to you! What if I can’t get far enough away from you in time? What if I get to Jill or Leon? Mia and Rose? Claire? What if—oh, no…”
“What?” you asked.
“They’ve started using bioweapons.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the village. Someone at BSAA sent out bioweapons. What’s to stop them from putting me in with the rest of them?”
You held out your hand. “Chris…”
“You saw how I changed. My hair grew, my nails turned into claws. I grew a tail and I can’t wear low-waisted pants because the waistband digs into the base! You ever see those anthro furry characters where the tail’s coming out of the lower middle of the back? That’s bullshit! It’s an extension of my spine and I probably look like dickbutt with it the first few days! If they find out…”
Chris never cried, but for the first time since you met him, he began to sob, his entire body shaking and making the couch shake with it.
“What’s the point in stopping bioweapons if I’m a bioweapon too?” he asked. “That’s why Ethan made me leave him to detonate the explosion. That’s why Piers wouldn’t open the door. That’s why everyone I’ve ever been tasked with keeping alive is dead now! Because your fate is sealed the second the virus or the parasite or whatever fucked up shit they’ve been cooking up is in your body! What’s the point in trying to save lives if I’m built for ending them now? What’s that saying about dying a hero?”
“They haven’t even seen you when you turn,” you said. “I’ve seen almost everything. And every time, I just see you.”
He looked up at you, looked at your hand, then tentatively pressed his cheek into it, letting his hot tears wet it.
“See? I’m still here,” you said. “I’m okay.”
He wrapped his strong arms around you and laid his head against your chest. You stroked his short hair, shushing him and swaying him gently.
“We’re gonna be fine,” you said. “Why don’t we get some food in you and maybe you’ll feel better?”
Chris nodded. You scratched behind his ear and he got the biggest smile on his face.
“See?” you said. “It’s not all bad.”
16 notes · View notes
maiz-of-light · 10 months
Text
Rant about ableism and censorship beneath the cut, also slight TotK spoilers, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
Seriously, if you look beneath the cut and proceed to get offended, you did that to yourself. This is my blog and I will share my thoughts if and how I want.
Hi! In case it isn’t already obvious, I’m annoyed, and I’m about to go into why. Recently, with the release of the Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, a post has been circulating accusing the game of being “riddled with ableism” for its depiction of “body horror” and “medical trauma” - that is, at the very beginning, Link is attacked in such a manner that his arm becomes infected and he loses consciousness. When he wakes, he has a sci-fi, kind of steampunk-y, fantasy arm in its place that was grafted to him while in his coma because, as is explained, the infection was spreading and his life was at risk. Or, in summary, a dead arm was grafted to him without his consent.
When you put it that way, it sounds pretty dark - and fuck, I’m not arguing that, at all. What salts my onions, lads, is that the game is being described as “ableist” for not containing specific trigger warnings.
Guys. What the fuck.
For starters, have you not seen the trailers? The demonic mummy with the glowing red eyes? The animation of Link’s sword arm wreathed in what we now call “gloom,” followed by footage of him examining that same arm and it is clearly not the same? Goddesses help me these were the earliest fucking trailers, too. If you’re not smart enough to put two and two together then chances are you were never smart enough to enjoy a game created to challenge your problem solving and puzzle solving skills in the first place.
If, on the other hand, you hadn’t watched the trailers beforehand, and got triggered by some unmentioned content afterwards, that’s your problem. You are responsible for your own triggers - for knowing what they are and for scanning content prior to engaging. You don’t click on a fic with mention of alcoholism, skip over the CW in the notes, then harass the author when you stumble upon the line/scene/paragraph containing said alcoholism-centric content. Creators are not obligated to tiptoe around you. In other words, if you have bad triggers, consider not playing a brand new video game before you have any idea what it’s about.
Before you call me “ableist” or “insensitive,” let me tell you a story. I won’t mention any details, as trauma dumping is not something I do, but I will state that I have an official, professional diagnosis of PTSD. I have triggers, specific ones, that send me spiraling into severe panic attacks if I don’t catch them in time and deal accordingly. And do you know who’s responsible for that? Me. I don’t get to police content creators, what they share and how they share it. I am responsible for curating my own media experience, and if someone isn’t comfortable accommodating my specific triggers, preferences, etc., I can choose not to engage. Nothing, nothing bothers me more than when people appropriate my disability, either to get their way somehow or to score brownie points and make themselves look “considerate.”
As for Link’s little fantasy medical procedure - yeah, he lost a limb. It happens. It sucks, and for some it can definitely be triggering - but like I said, all the signs are there. Complaining that all the trailers, leaked footage, advertisement, etc. somehow wasn’t enough is whiny and annoying, and entitled, and as I’ve mentioned feels like it’s mostly coming from non-disabled individuals shooting for a “woker” image. Get therapy and let the rest of us enjoy this awesome new game and affiliated content without having to hear a bunch of pointless, wannabe-woke carping.
6 notes · View notes
khalixascorner · 1 year
Text
Promised in Chains Pt 3
Tumblr media
Summary: Omegas are considered too fragile to perform high risk jobs, and that definitely includes superheroing. Peter knows this and hides the fact that he's an Omega from everyone but his mentor. When a mission goes wrong and his designation gets revealed, his whole world seems to be falling apart until Tony offers him a way out. However Peter quickly finds that Tony's offer was not everything he thought it would be, and he must find his balance quickly in his new role as Omega mate of the Pack Alpha of the Avengers.
Tags: Starker, Rape/Non-con Elements, Extremely Dubious Consent, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Tony Stark, Omega Peter Parker, Dark Tony Stark, Naive Peter Parker, Light Dehumanization, Light Feminization, Intersex Omegas, ritual bonding, Pack Dynamics, Manipulative Tony Stark, Manipulative Nick Fury, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Tony creates circumstances that force Peter to bond with him and then takes advantage of society's views on Omegas, Non-consensual medical examinations, No experimentation, But Cho does a full medical work up, without Peter's explicit consent, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Tony totally drugs him
Read on AO3 Part 1 Part 2
Peter ached when he finally woke clear headed. His neck twinged sharply, and Peter’s fingers shot up to touch the tender skin. He would have thought being Spider-man would have healed it faster but apparently, Omegan biology could not be denied. As he took stock of his body in general, he realized that it wasn’t just his neck hurting. Everything felt sore, and he was hungry and thirsty.
“Good morning, Peter,” Friday said cheerfully. Peter groaned but couldn’t bring himself to respond more coherently. “Boss said to let you know he’ll be in with your food shortly and that you should attempt a shower if you think you can manage it on your own.”
Peter didn’t move, because for the first time since he was bit, he felt weak. Instead, he tried to remember what had happened but everything was a haze. He couldn’t help but think he was missing something- something important- but his spider senses were quiet and eventually, he just gave up. His only hope was that the memories would come back naturally, but even then, heat induced memory loss and psychosis were so common that the memories were probably gone.
“Didn’t expect you to still be in bed,” Tony said as he slipped into the room while carrying a tray of food.
Peter groaned and buried his face into a pillow, causing the Alpha to chuckle.
“That bad, huh?”
“Just, don’t feel right,” Peter admitted softly. “Everything hurts and I’m exhausted.”
“Yeah? You have a fever?” Tony asked, touching a warm hand to Peter’s forehead.
“Don’t know,” Peter replied with a sigh. Tony just clicked his tongue and helped Peter sit up. Then he pulled the tray over and slid in next to Peter, slowly feeding him what was on the tray. It was weird but Peter was too tired to pull away.
“You feel a little warm but honestly, it’s probably the lack of calories,” Tony said as he continued to feed Peter. “We’ll make sure you take it easy today just in case though. Cho will be by later to confirm for the government that the bond took so I’ll have her take a look if you’re not feeling better by then.”
“Wait- we’re not officially bonded yet?” Peter asked, feeling panic shoot through him.
“Hey, whoa, calm down,” Tony practically growled and Peter froze at the Alpha’s tone. The older man continued only after he had resettled Peter against him. “It’s just a technicality, dotting our i’s and crossing our t’s. We’re mated and the entire Avengers pack were witnesses. No one is going to argue with that.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” Peter mumbled, flinching for some reason when Tony sighed again.
“You’re not in trouble, Omega,” Tony said, running a hand soothingly down his side, and Peter’s body lost tension that he hadn’t even realized was there. “Just remember, I’m the Alpha here. I’ve got it, and you, ok?”
“Yes, sir,” Peter mumbled, the fatigue pulling him back under.
-------------------------
Peter wasn’t sure how long he dozed before Tony was shaking him awake again.
“Come on, kid, Cho is waiting for us in the other room,” the Alpha said. 
Peter mumbled a response and tried to stand but he still felt a bit off. Tony noticed and picked him up, drawing a startled yelp from Peter. The Alpha shushed him and kept walking, so Peter sighed and gave up on walking himself. 
He thought they would be going to the living room or something but instead, Tony carried him into one of the guest rooms. Or it had been a guest room. Now, it looked like an extra large private Medbay room with a bed tucked on one side and an examination table on the other.
“What is all of this?” Peter asked quietly, nervous around the unexpected medical equipment.
“You’re a mated Omega and Spider-man,” Tony replied, as if that somehow explained everything. Peter wanted to ask more but Cho stepped back in from another door Peter hadn’t seen at first.
“Tony, thanks for making the time for me to come by so quickly,” Cho said, nodding at the other Alpha. “I’ve already reviewed what Friday sent me so we just have a few questions and the physical, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Of course,” Tony said, walking briskly to the exam table and depositing Peter gently on it. “I meant what I said about making sure we do things right.”
“Let’s get right to it then,” Cho said, grabbing a tablet. “How would you characterize your mating?”
“His heat was a bit stronger than I would think is normal but it was nothing I couldn’t handle, and it was likely in response to the stress induced heat coupled with the suppressors necessary to evacuate the battlefield,” Tony said, his hand absentmindedly running through Peter’s hair as he spoke. Peter leaned into it for a minute before realizing what he was doing and jerking back upright. 
Peter tried to sit patiently as Cho asked Tony more questions, but it was hard when he was still feeling off and neither Alpha was so much as looking at him. He tried to shift up on the table, only to freeze when Tony’s hand in his hair tightened. The Alpha glanced at him for only a moment but Peter saw the warning there, so he tried to settle back in.
“Was the Omega in any pain after the heat wore off?” Cho asked, and Peter perked up because it was finally a question for him.
“I was sore and tired,” Peter said but the Alpha didn’t even look at him. Peter opened his mouth to speak again when Tony spoke.
“He was lethargic and while he ate, it was not his normal amount. However, I would judge the level of discomfort as relatively small.”
“That’s not true,” Peter interrupted. “My neck really hurts, and the whole gland keeps twinging when I move, and everything aches like the time I got thrown into the shipping container.”
“He mentioned some irritation but his scent was not distressed, and Friday logged no other physical signs of distress or true injury,” Tony said, his voice a little sterner though neither Alpha looked at Peter still. “Obviously, you’re the doctor here, but I think the exam will show that there was no significant damage sustained during the mating despite the circumstances.”
“I’ll be sure to check the normal areas that Omegas complain about,” Cho assured Tony, and Peter felt like he wanted to scream. It was his body and they were ignoring him completely. He went to sit up, unconsciously choosing a more aggressive posture only to slump when Tony suddenly scruffed him.
“Cho, can you give me a moment with my new mate?” Tony asked, the displeasure clear in his voice.
“Of course, just have Friday let me know when you’re ready for me to come back,” Cho said, gathering up the tablet as she stepped out. Only when the door was closed did Tony release his neck.
Peter rounded on Tony, reading to challenge the man when he was interrupted by the Alpha’s growl.
“What the fuck was that, Peter?” Tony asked, his eyes flashing. “Are you trying to fuck this up?”
“What? I- What are you talking about?” Peter stuttered, thrown by the vehemence in Tony’s voice. The Alpha sighed and took a deep breath.
“Kid- Pete, when it’s just us, here at home or even in the lab, it's fine for things to stay the same,” Tony said, pulling a reluctant Peter into his arms. “But around everyone else, especially non-pack Alphas, you have to behave like a mated Omega. If you don’t, then it was all for nothing, because they’ll decide that either I don’t care to handle you or that I’m too weak to. And if they decide that? Then goodbye Spidey powers at the very least.”
“What does that even mean though?” Peter whined, feeling like the Alpha was giving him whiplash. First, he was gentle, then ignoring him, then mad, and now holding him comfortingly. “I don’t know what it means to be a mated Omega.”
“Well, for one, you can’t talk to other Alphas, full stop,” Tony said. “You’re mated and the only Alpha that should be paying you attention is me.”
“But I’ve talked to Cho before!” Peter argued. “She’s been my doctor forever and talked to me before.”
“That was before you were out as an Omega and mated,” Tony said firmly. “You can’t talk to her, Pete, or any of the others either. The pack Alphas, I’ll officially reintroduce you to once things have settled a bit, and then you’ll have them, but everyone else is off limits, Pete.”
“What about my work though? The lab stuff and-and my internship. What about school?” Peter asked, tears welling up without his permission. 
He had been so sure that Tony wouldn’t treat him like he was second class, and the Alpha wasn’t. Not exactly. He was giving Peter a safe bubble to be himself in private. 
But Peter had thought Tony would protect him in public too. Tony was always in the public’s eye, both as Pack Alpha Iron Man and as the mind behind SI which meant Peter would have to somehow survive all of those public events as well. 
“We’ll figure it out when we get there,” Tony said calmly. “But first, we need to get over this hurdle. You have to show Cho you can be a proper Omega.”
Peter shook as Tony gathered him into the Alpha’s arms. He was tired and everything hurt, and now, he was just supposed to accept that in public he was going to be less than a person. Despair bubbled in his chest and a sob slipped from his throat.
“Oh, Omega,” Tony murmured, rumbling gently. “It’ll be ok. I’ve got you.”
Tony continued to scent him as Peter cried, rocking him gently and humming a quiet song. Eventually, the sobs lessened to sniffles and then stopped altogether.
“Sorry,” Peter croaked, embarrassed by the outburst. “I don’t- I’ve never been this- I think something’s wrong with me.”
“You’re newly mated,” Tony said simply. “Your hormones are going to be all over the place for a while. Now, are you ready for me to bring Cho back in?”
“Honestly, no,” Peter replied, not feeling ready for much of anything. “But we have to so let’s just get it over with.”
“Just remember, no talking to her,” Tony said and Peter nodded.
It only took a minute for Friday to alert the doctor and for Cho to rejoin them. Peter couldn’t help hunching down and curling in on himself as she did. He tried to tune out the conversation between the Alphas, hoping it would make it easier, but he just felt more isolated.
-------------------
Peter jumped when he felt his shoulder grabbed.
“Time for the physical exam,” Tony murmured, and Peter nodded. He started to pull his clothes off, only to have his hands pushed gently away as Tony gave him a pointed look. He flushed but allowed the Alpha to remove his clothes.
He whimpered when Tony grabbed his pants and underwear but didn’t fight the Alpha as he was stripped. The room was warm, but it didn’t stop him from shivering as Tony positioned him on the examination table, legs in the stirrups and his whole body exposed for the Alphas.
“Friday, raise temp by 2 degrees,” Tony said even as Cho grabbed a pair of gloves.
“Alright, I’ll start with the Omega’s glands and then move on to his cavities,” Cho told Tony. Peter whimpered again, causing Tony to shush him. “Newly bonded Omegas often do best during the exams if their Alphas maintain some sort of contact. That way, they don’t overreact to a foreign Alpha touching them.”
“Hold his hand, got it,” Tony said, reaching out and grabbing Peter’s hand.
“Among other things,” Cho said with a chuckle. “I’ll let you know as we get to each part of the exam.”
“Sounds good, doc,” Tony replied easily.
Peter squeezed his eyes closed, trying to hide the tears that were building again. He didn’t want this, didn’t want to be touched everywhere by someone who wouldn’t even look him in the eyes or speak to him, but he didn’t have a choice.
Cho started by prodding around his still sore mating gland. Peter tried to take deep breaths through the pain but couldn’t hold back a grunt when Cho pushed especially hard on the bite itself.
“Hmm, that’s interesting,” she murmured as she slid her hands up his neck. She pressed into different places, all of which ached to varying degrees, and Peter was soon whimpering as it reached the point of oversensitivity.
“Come stand by his head, Tony,” Cho said, and Peter felt her hands slide down his body.
His arms were lifted and she pressed into his armpits. He would have pulled away, but Tony scruffed him without warning. Tears flowed freely as he cried in pain. The sound turned to a gurgle as two fingers were pushed into his mouth. Peter’s eyes flew open in shock, catching Tony’s dark gaze as he shuddered and whimpered around the fingers.
“Suck,” Tony growled, not quite to his Alpha voice, but close enough that Peter obeyed automatically even though his chest tightened at the disregard for his will. 
It was humiliating but the motion was soothing even if it didn’t get rid of the pain, and it calmed him enough that Tony released his neck. He sagged against the table, only to arch up when the doctor pinched his nipples.
He tried to lift his head to see what she was doing, but Tony pushed him back with the fingers in his mouth.
“Eyes on me, Pete, and I didn’t say you could stop sucking,” the Alpha growled, his voice even deeper than before.
Peter whimpered and started sucking harder as his nipples were played with, sending sparks straight to his cocklet. His eyes widened when he felt wetness start to pool too.
“That’s a good response, especially so soon,” Cho said and Peter saw Tony nod in response, though his Alpha never broke eye contact with him. “I’d like to test his pleasure responses, with your permission, of course. Given that he’s intersex, sometimes there’s issues with the dual organs.”
“Go ahead,” Tony replied. “Maybe check his prostate too if you don’t mind. He hasn’t been on top of his reproductive health since his presentation was my understanding.”
“Oh, yes, we’ll definitely want to check everything then,” Cho said. Peter twitched as her hand slid down his chest to his cocklet with no warning.
Tony stepped closer and leaned in so that his mouth was right at Peter’s ear.
“I want you to suck my fingers like you would my cock and imagine it’s my hands on your body when you come,” Tony ordered, his Alpha voice thrumming through Peter. “Now, be a good boy and come with that little cocklet of yours.”
Peter’s whole body seized as he came hard from just a few tugs. His mouth didn’t stop sucking even as he sagged against the table. Everything was fuzzy after that. There was an impression of clinical fingers pressing against his insides, then of something cold and hard filling him. Twice more, his body seized, leaving his mind blank for longer periods of time after each one.
He’ was shaking when he finally regained some semblance of composure. Cho was still there but she was no longer touching him while Tony had removed his fingers and was instead petting Peter’s hair.
“So, overall, I think the paperwork should go through. He’s responding very well on a physical level. Honestly, I’d say this is probably one of the most thorough matings I’ve seen actually,” Cho said. “Mentally, it’s clear he’s still struggling to adapt but given his circumstances, that’s not unexpected and you’re handling him very well. If you do need any support though, you have my number.”
“Thanks again, Doc,” Tony replied and Cho nodded.
“I’m sure we’ll talk again, and don’t forget to knot him so the shakiness goes away,” Cho said as she left.
Tony watched her go before turning to look at Peter. After everything, it was too much to be so exposed, and he just wanted to feel warm again. He curled up on the medical bench as sobs wracked his body and chills ran up and down his spine. His chest ached like there was a gaping hole in it and the depth of the feeling scared him.
Hands pulled him onto his back, spreading his legs as he sobbed again. Something warm pressed into him and hands ran along his body, trailing heat as they went. Weight settled over him and even though it should have been too much, Peter felt like he could finally breath. The heaviness in his chest lessened until it was a distant memory and the shivers that had plagued him finally stopped.
“There we go,” Tony murmured, laying gentle kisses on Peter’s neck while lapping at his bond mark. “There’s my Omega. Such a good boy, you did so well.”
Peter let Tony’s praise wash over him like a balm to his bruised soul. The Omega knew the reprieve would likely be short lived, and he’d need to really sit down and talk to Tony about the Alpha’s expectations, because there was so much he didn’t know. For now though, he was content to simply rest and let his Alpha take care of everything.
2 notes · View notes
yoongiboongipoongi · 2 years
Note
hiiii ; ) if this doesn't bother you plss smut dom cheongsan 😩
YOOOO IVE BEEN WAITING FOR ALL OF US ARE DEAD ASKS
it’s definitely more romantic love making rather than fucking, bc i feel like hes just romantic and soft like that 🥺
and this is an alternate universe where he is very much alive. not abt to have sex w a dead person are we
“fuck, i love you so much,” cheongsan caresses your naked body, slowly moving his hand to hold yours. he grabbed your hand and caressed it, giving kisses all around your neck as you sighed in ecstasy.
“are you okay with me doing this? we can stop right here if you want,” he held your cheek and waited for your consent. you only nodded.
“use your words, love,” he says.
“i’m okay,” you smiled at him. how did you ever get such an amazing boyfriend?
he thrusted into you, taking it slow so you can adjust to his size. he places tender kisses all over you, gently touching you and whispering praises into your ear.
“oh fuck fuck i’m close,” you moan, putting your arms around his neck to keep him close. he ruts faster into you, letting out gentle groans and whispered curses.
“me too,” he says, putting his thumb over your pearl and massaging it in a circular motion.
you cum simultaneously, the room filled with heavy breaths and “i love you”s .
cheongsan delicately wipes off your sweat, brushing the hair out if your face while he gets the sweat on your forehead. in return you wipe the sweat off his neck and face while he stares at you with the most adoration and love. you giggle at his cute smile, and kiss both of his dimples when you’re done.
the next few minutes, you guys just hold each other in complete silence, communicating through the tender caresses and loving eye contact. after all you’ve been through with him, it feels like a dream to be here with him. you never imagined that you would be this happy, it almost felt unreal.
and it is unreal, cause he’s dead :DDDDD hope you liked it 😰
743 notes · View notes
luxeavenger · 3 years
Text
Thank You For The Tragedy. I Need It For My Art [Kurt Cobain]
Part 1: Aqua Sea Foam Shame
| Part 2 |
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x female!reader
Summary: You discover something that makes you wonder if your time is at its end.
Warnings: Implied/referenced cheating, drug use (marijuana/cocaine), angst, emotional hurt/comfort, polyamorous relationship, threats of violence, pet names (little mama/mama, sweetie, honey), and even more angst (I am SO sorry)
A/N: I can't answer questions about this chapter. You can definitely send asks about it, but if it's a question specific to this chapter, I'll answer it after part 2 is published. Sorry <3
18+ ONLY PLEASE! MINORS DNI. If you hit Keep Reading you agree that you're 18 or older.
I do not consent to having my work copied, translated, or posted on any other site. The ONLY places my work should appear are@luxeavenger on Tumblr and Ao3
Backstage Pass Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-fi
Please reblog if you enjoy!
Tumblr media
Tonight is the last of three shows in Cali, and the crowd is absolutely feral. The Howling Commandos stop at four encores, even though the sweaty masses are rabid for a fifth.
You thread through the throbbing crowd and head to the restroom to freshen up. You check yourself in the mirror, fingers plucking at your purple fishnets and the hole in the thigh that Steve tore in them earlier when one of his big rings caught on them in his haste to get his fingers on your clit. You’re wearing Bucky’s favorite Runaways t-shirt, Cherry Bomb plastered on the front in retro letters. It’s feather-soft with age, and the neck had torn off ages ago, so it hangs off one shoulder, showing off the still-healing tattoo of Bucky’s name on your collarbone, and the shield inked on your sternum. Your hair is a sweaty mess, and you do your best to finger-comb it into looking presentable.
Lastly you swipe some pretty pink lip gloss over your lips. You’d been chewing on them throughout the show, and now they’re heartbreaker plump and pouty, so you can’t resist making those dick-sucking lips all shiny and pink for your men.
Now that the floor is clear of most of the crowd, you make your way backstage. You see Steve and Bucky, and skid to a halt. Their backs are to you, and their arms are around a woman who is decidedly not you.
Your heart gives a painful lurch in your rib cage, miles beneath the names tattooed on your chest, the ink still fresh enough to itch without lotion.
They’re out of your sight now, and though every cell in your body wants you to turn tail and run, to not follow where you fear this will inevitably lead, you finally lurch forward, hollowly asking Scott where the green room is, and heading off in the direction he points.
Just outside of the green room is where your aching heart finally ruptures, and you bleed out alone, right there on the concrete floor. Because there sits Steve, with this new woman next to him, and Bucky sitting across from them. This woman—some rockabilly pinup girl, complete with a wiggle skirt, shiny red fuck-me pumps, and victory rolls in her chestnut hair—is curled up against Steve’s side, looking up at him like he hung the sun. Her tattoo-covered hand rubs delicately over his thigh when her MAC Give-Me-Fever-red lips kiss Steve’s scruffy cheek.
“Oh no, little mama,” comes Clint's voice from beside you. You’re paralyzed, still dying the slow death of an insect swept up in amber when his calloused hand catches yours, and pulls you away.
He takes you back to the tour bus while you try to remember if you were ever able to feel your organs before this moment, because you definitely feel them now. Your heart is like lead in your chest, a weight bearing down its tender companions, and poisoning your systems with each sickening beat. You’re a walking corpse. A ghost, who hasn’t quite figured out she’s dead yet, lost forever under bright California stars.
You frantically keep replaying the past few days in your head. Wondering what you’d done. Why this is happening. It seemed like everyone had fun hanging out with Thor and Loki. It didn’t seem like anything that happened with the two bikers upset Steve or Bucky. The sex with your partners had been phenomenal, as it always was. Hell, you and Steve had fucked Bucky so good this morning he couldn’t get his legs underneath him for almost an hour afterwards.
Clint gently shakes you alert again. “Hey,” he keeps repeating himself until your eyes focus on him. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I know that’s what you’re thinking, mama. I can see it on your face. This isn’t about you, or anything you did. Okay?”
Nat’s bunk is below his, so for simplicity’s sake, he guides you to it. He crawls in behind you, and grabs a tin off of Nat’s shelf and sets to work rolling a joint. When he’s done he lights it, then flips it around so it’s between his lips with the cherry in his mouth. He takes your face in his hands, tugging your jaw open with his thumb, and shotguns smoke into your mouth.
You wonder why he doesn’t just pass you the joint, then you notice that your hands are shaking. Your whole body is. Your bones are rife with earthquakes that have taken hold in your marrow, and spread their shaky little tendrils through their calcium prisons and into your flesh.
He gives you a few more hits like that until the shaking subsides. The air in the bunk is hazy and blue with smoke when Nat opens the curtain. Clint quietly explains to her what’s going on, and you finally give in to the tears that have been teasing your eyes since Clint found you.
Nat looks at you and immediately climbs into the bunk, and wraps you in a warm hug—Nat always runs hot after a show—and rocks you while you sob. “Oh honey. It’s okay. Get it out. It’s okay.”
Clint leaves you with Nat so he can shower and change out of his sweaty clothes, and Nat does the same once he returns. Clint starts rubbing calming circles on your back, and you surprise him by throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder. His smell is crisp and clean: amber, freshly cut grass, and mint. Comforting because there’s nothing about it that reminds you of Bucky or Steve. He gathers you into his lap so he can hold you tight.
It’s been two hours since you saw them with her, and they still haven’t come back to the bus. This seems to confirm your worst fears. Clint asks quietly, “Do you know who she is?”
“No. Am I supposed to?” you sniffle.
Clint sighs, “It’s their ex, Peggy.”
“Their? Like both of them?”
“Yeah, little mama,” he nods against the top of your head, “but they called it quits with her a year before they even met you.”
“Why did they break up?” you ask, still trying to do the math and figure out why this pain had come knocking at your door.
Clint shakes his head, “That I can’t say. It’s their story to tell, not mine.”
“Why have they been gone so long?” you ask mournfully.
“I don’t know, mama” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “I really don’t know.”
You’d fall asleep in Clint’s lap at some point, and you wake to heavy boots stomping up the RV steps. You see Nat is back in the bunk, wearing Clint’s boxer briefs and a sports bra, her short hair still damp, and combed away from her face. She’s playing a game on her phone. Clint has laid you down on the mattress next to him, still rubbing a soothing hand over your back occasionally. Alpine is curled against your chest, making biscuits against your arm, and purring up a storm.
Steve and Bucky head to their bunk first, looking for you. They’re talking too loudly, and their speech is slurred, so they must have had a hell of a lot of alcohol for their turbo-charged metabolisms to have held onto it long enough for them to sound drunk.
When they don’t find you waiting for them, they knock on the wood between Nat and Clint’s bunk. She opens the curtain just enough to climb out, and squares up with both of them. They’re taken aback when suddenly confronted with a furious redhead.
“Have you seen Y/N?” Bucky asks.
“You assholes have a lot of fucking nerve to come in here asking for her now. Like this.”
“What?” Steve asks, sounding confused.
“Don’t fucking ‘what’ me, Rogers, you’ve still got her fucking lipstick on your cheek.”
From inside of the bunk you count five whole Mississippi’s where neither of them speak.
Steve reaches for the curtain. Then there’s a quiet snick, and Nat’s snarling, “Steve, if you touch that fucking curtain I will cut your dick off and feed it to the fucking cat.”
Bucky sounds dead sober now, and frantic as fuck when he pleads with Nat, “Is she in there? Please, just let us explain.” He reaches out to swipe the curtain aside.
“Bucky, I fucking mean it. Don’t touch that curtain. The next person who reaches for it is going to be pissing out of a rubber tube for the rest of his life.”
“Goddamnit, Steve,” Bucky hisses, “I fucking told you something bad would happen.”
They must retreat to their bunk because Nat’s back, flipping her switchblade back into its handle. She takes one look at the fresh tears sliding down your face and pulls you against her. Your head pillowed on her chest, she holds you tight and repeats, “It’s okay, honey. It’s okay,” like it’s a spell, and maybe it is, because it’s the last thing you hear before you fall asleep.
Tumblr media
You wake the next afternoon in another state, with Alpine curled around your head like a hat. You’re disoriented at first because the smells are strange and you aren’t flanked by two muscular walls of heat. Then it all comes crashing back to you in an instant.
Nat’s against the wall at your feet eating a bowl of Cocoa Puffs. She passes you a lukewarm cup of coffee. “Sorry it’s cold. I didn’t want to wake you.” She pauses, then, “They’re still here,” she tells you softly. “If you don’t want to see them I can bring you some food.” You forlornly shake your head. She kisses your cheek and tells you she’ll be back in ten, and Clint is up top in his bunk if you need him. She has a quiet conversation with him before she leaves.
You check your phone. It’s nearly dead, and there’s eighty-two missed texts from Steve and Bucky, just from the past six hours.
You scan through, but it’s a lot of the same:
“It’s not what you think.”
“Please let us explain.”
“She doesn’t mean anything to us.”
“Can we just talk?”
“I love you.”
“We’re sorry.”
You sign and turn your phone off. You’re afraid of complete ruin, too broken right now to risk them stomping the shattered pieces of you into powder under their feet.
You hear a rustle, and the thump of Clint hitting the ground. “She doesn’t want to talk to you guys.”
“Goddamnit, Clint,” Steve gripes, “we just want to explain.”
“We want to apologize,” Bucky amends, sounding tired and angry.
“That’s all fine and good, but she’s our family too, and if she doesn’t want to talk to you, we’re going to make goddamn sure she doesn’t have to,” Clint says. Then he pokes his head in the bunk, “What about it, mama? You want to talk to either of them?” You shake your head, feeling the prickly heat of tears collecting in your eyes again. A sob tears out of your chest unbidden, and Bucky barks a desperate curse. Clint wipes a tear from your cheek, “It’s okay, sweetie,” he says soothingly before standing again.
“Fuck off, guys,” Clint says simply. He crosses his arms over his chest.
Steve bristles, “You know, Clint,” he says flatly, “we could make you move.”
Nat’s voice comes from behind them, “You could fucking try.” She sounds cold and detached. Dangerous. You remember what Steve and Bucky told you about their time in the service with Clint and Nat. And at this exact moment there’s not a doubt in your mind that she and Clint could give Steve a run for his money.
The tension on the bus is sky high, and for a moment—for everyone else’s sake—you’re ready to give in and parade your wounded heart out in front of the men who’d shredded it in the first place.
“Steve, stop being an asshole,” Bucky chides, “forcing her to talk to us isn’t going to make anything better. Neither is beating up our family.”
Steve stomps away, brushing by Nat on the way out. “Prick,” she growls after him.
Bucky has a quiet conversation with Clint and Nat before sighing heavily and exiting the bus alone.
Clint pokes his head back in, “They’re gone now. I don’t know about Steve, but Bucky said he’d stay gone until it was time to get ready for the show. Why don’t you come on out, stretch your legs, and eat something. Can you believe we’re parked next to a Waffle House? Nat brought pancakes! And bacon!” His animated face warms your heart, when he offers you his hand you gladly accept. Alpine follows after you, weaving between your legs and chirping at you happily.
Tumblr media
That’s how you live for the next week. The first couple days you stay with Clint or Nat. They take good care of you. Holding you when you’re sad, getting you stoned when you feel too fragile, telling you stories about each other when you just need the company. But after Steve stops trying to make you talk to him, you move your stuff into the mostly vacant bunk so you don’t keep crowding Clint and Nat. It’s actually Scott’s bunk, but he got a fancy new reclining seat for the RV, and he’s slept in that more often than not ever since.
When Steve and Bucky are in the RV you stay holed up in the bunk. You only venture out when they’re gone. Clint and Nat bring you food, and hang out with you when Bucky and Steve are home. You pass whole days doing nothing but watching movies, snuggling Alpine, and playing Uno or Cards Against Humanity with Nat and Clint.
Once you’re in Seattle it feels a bit safer to leave the bunk, so you start going to the Howlies shows again. But you leave early so you can avoid seeing them afterwards. They’ve added a cover of Nirvana’s All Apologies to the end of their set. They dedicate it to you.
| Part 2 |
Tumblr media
507 notes · View notes
hanazuma-inactive · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
defrost (nsfw) kaeya x top!male reader
pronouns: he/him
warnings: ice play!! slight degradation, orgasm denial/ edging, top male reader, bottom kaeya
a/n: this was edited by @kamihara, she really outdone herself in this one, professional kaeya simp lol
_____
“to think such an honourable knight such as you, the cavalry captain of mondstat, is now begging to cum. how shameful of you,” you let out a low chuckle as a provocative smile broke out on your lips, “i wonder what citizens would say if they saw their beloved and oh so admirable kaeya in this position?”
as a captain of the ordo favonius, you were a bright figure to the people of mondstat. a person who aided in saving the city from destruction, one of the heroes that defeated storm terror. of course, other knights had nothing but respect for you as your skill and talent was nothing short of impressive. many looked at you with a high regard due to your strength and position, this meant that many were intimidated by your presence and therefore fear approaching you.
however, there was one person who disregarded this and stuck by you anyways, kaeya alberich, the cavalry captain. out of everyone in the knights of favonius, you were the closest with kaeya. you enjoyed his company a lot, he was an interesting person who knew how to keep a conversation going, and while you're with him you could never find yourself feeling bored. he was as charming as he was cunning.
kaeya found himself enjoying your company too. the two of you have done lots of things together. going on missions, getting away with “knighty” duty, babysitting klee, and drinking at angels share. you know, all the fun things in life.
kaeya was a secretive person, and while you were curious about him, you respected his boundaries. perhaps this was the reason why he drew you in, besides his blaringly good looks of course.
there was no doubt that the man was attractive from head to toe. his silky navy blue hair fell down his shoulder with grace, his fringe complemented his smooth, flawless sepia toned face. his periwinkle eye held the sheen of a crystal, glistening as his long eyelashes framed it with poise. the diamond shaped pupils his eyes possessed could leave you in a trance forever. his open white shirt left his cleavage on display, contrasted with the black corset around his slim, slim waist. his slender legs brought him around with confidence and charisma.additionally, the intricate accessories he wore suited his personality well. all in all, kaeya was a pretty little thing.
all of this lead up to you harbouring romantic feelings for the cavalry caption. how could you not feel anything? he was perfect in every way.
the sound of kaeya’s voice snapped you out of your thinking. “y/n, any missions today?”
“nothing for you i don’t think, i gotta help jean with the paperworks though.” you sighed at the thought of a mountain of paperwork.
“great, well i’m off then you have fun doing whatever.” kaeya smirked at you, poking fun at your dread.
he started to turn around and walk off but you had other plans.
“wait. kaeya-” you speak quickly.
“hm?” he hummed out.
“angels share? 9pm?”
a quizzical look washed over his face before he masked it with one of his cunning smiles.
“alright.”
little did kaeya know you had more in mind than just drinking with him tonight. today would be the day when you finally told him about your little crush on him.
night quickly arrived after a day of working with jean. you were pretty exhausted but still excited about what's about to happen later tonight. when you entered the bar, Kaeya was already waiting for you at the counter talking with the bartender, charles.
“ah, i see mr.l/n is here too. Your usual today as well sir?”
“yah that’d be nice, thanks charles.” you said as you took a seat next to kaeya
“you got it.” charles said as he left to go get your drink.
angel's share was the place you and kaeya loved the most. the kind of noisy background with people chatting. cyrus and jack talking about their gains for today, six-fingered jose still playing his lyre, the song was getting a little old but you didn’t mind, in fact if he changed the song you probably wouldn’t be used to it.
“so, what’s the special occasion for today? you usually don’t invite me to drink on weekdays.” kaeya said while swirling his drink and glancing over at you.
kaeya’s eyes always amazed you. you didn’t know the name of the grey-ish color but you could gaze into them forever. his smooth skin glowed under the dim lighting in the bar. you loved everything about the man, his dark blue hair, his perfectly shaped body, and the fact that you could see a little bit of his clothing. what kaeya said on the first day when you guys met was true, you did feel something for him.
“hm? can i not invite fellow knights to share a drink once in while without a special occasion.”
“well, not wrong there but…you seem like you have ulterior motives for tonight from the way you’re dressing.” kaeya said, smirking at you.
it was true, you purposely chose one of your best outfits today for kaeya, you wanted to impress the man not only from your combat skills, but also your looks. there was no secret you could hide from kaeya. he knew you too well and he always looked right through you. it could have just been kaeya’s observant nature but you like to hope it was something more than that.
“you’re right there, you really do know me too well, maybe i need to start hiding things from you a little huh?”
“you can try but i highly doubt it’ll work in your favour, mr.honorary knight.”
both of you looked at each other with a slight smirk as charles arrived with your drink. after drinking for a good while you could tell kaeya was getting a little tipsy. his movements were unstable, he shaked a little while walking and his eyes started to become hazy. what better time than right now to reveal your true plans for tonight, you were gonna fuck the shit out of the beautiful man. you wanted to hear him scream your name in pleasure as you break him, over and over again.
“why don’t we go somewhere else? y’know, somewhere more, quiet” you suggested while scooting closer to kaeya.
“i wouldn’t mind that.”
as soon as you heard those words you immediately got up and left with kaeya. your plan was going perfectly and the best part is about to come soon. kaeya wasn’t stupid, he was an adult afterall and he knew what you were trying to do. dressing up all sexy like that, getting drinks, going somewhere more “private”, what else could it have been.
the two of you arrived in your house and headed straight for your bedroom. kaeya has been to your house many times for many reasons and he knew where everything was so he didn’t trip or fall.
you placed a light kiss on kaeya’s lips while he laid on your bed.
“wait here~ i’ll be right back.”
this was where things would get, interesting
you opened your fridge to grab a small wooden bowl. the content inside was covered by a small white cloth. after grabbing that you went to grab some rope from a drawer you hid them in because you didn’t know what to say if someone saw those items in your house.
after bringing the items back you put them on the side and pushed kaeya down.
“what’re those?” he asked
(its a surprise tool that’ll help us later.)
“don’t worry about it sweetheart, just lay back and let me do the work alright?”
you brought a blush to kaeya’s face with your flirty words as he gave you a small nod, signalling you consent and approval. you kept invading kaeya’s mouth over and over again, you’re tongue so skillful kaeya was sure this definitely wasn’t your first time. the kisses ended after a while leaving both of you panting and a half an erection in your pants. wanting more, you began to take off kaeya’s uniform. his skin is so beautiful, you could also see his well defined body, just the perfect amount, not too buff, not too skinny. you licked your lips a little bit and looked up at kaeya with a smirk. when you put your mouth onto kaeya’s pink nipples, he squealed a little out of surprise but soft moans soon began to escape from his mouth.
“a-ah~ didn’t know you had this in you, honorary knight.”
“oh i know a lot more tricks that can make you feel good~” you teased.
as you continued to suck on kaeya’s smooth skin, you decided to spice things up a little bit. kaeya yelped as he felt a slight pain around his nipples. you remove your mouth to see a bite mark around it.
“to mark you as mine~”
“tch, you cocky little bastard.”
seeing the tent building up in kaeya’s pants, you decided to take them off and grant it some release. after you took off kaeya’s jeans you saw a small stain at the top of his boxers, showing that he felt good earlier.
“alright... this is where the fun part begins.” you said as you grabbed the ropes you initially put on the floor.
“restraining me? go ahead, let’s see if the honorary knight is all talk or he actually has something up his sleeve.” kaeya taunted
not liking his attitude, you forcefully tied kaeya’s hands behind his back and pushed him to the end of the bed facing you with nothing on but his boxers. now, the mighty kaeya alberich, is at your mercy.
“alright, we can do this in two ways. one, you listen to me, second, i don’t think you’ll like what’ll happen,”
kaeya raised his head a little and looked you dead in the eyes.
“i choose the second option”
you knew kaeya was the bratty type and it’ll only add to the fun to tame him. after hearing his choice you pushed kaeya back to where he was before and uncovered the bowl you had prepared earlier on the side. the bow was filled with medium sized ice cubes and it was till now that kaeya finally realized what you were trying to do.
“ice cubes huh? bring it on.”
“you asked for it~”
you grabbed one of the ice cubes and started to rub it on kaeya’s pecs, making circular motions and slowing moving towards the center where his nipples are.
“f-fuck that’s cold.”
you saw kaeya’s cock twitch a little when you first reached his nipples and you knew he was feeling good. moving on with your plan, you rested the ice cube on kaeya’s nipples and lifted his boxers where his cock is still covered but his asshole is exposed to you. right after that, you grabbed the lube that has been sitting in your nightstand and spread them on your fingers. without mercy you put 2 fingers into kaeya, trying to find his pleasure spot. sooner or later when kaeya started to let out tiny moans you knew you hit your target.
“feels good huh baby boy~”
“y-yah, and so what o-oh fuck~”
kaeya was sure feeling it, to a point where he started stuttering.
the constant teasing got kaeya close to his limit. he couldn’t hold it any longer. but you’re not gonna let him cum that easy are you? of course not, he needed to be punished for what he did earlier.
“a-ah y/n i’m gonna cum i’m gonna cum so hard- wait why'd you s-stop?” kaeya asked
“you decided to be a brat earlier didn’t you~? bad boys get punishment.” you said with a smirk on your face.
kaeya stayed silent, not a word coming out of his mouth, head hung low feeling embarrassed.
“to think such an honourable knight such as you, the cavalry captain of mondstat, is now begging to cum. how shameful of you,” you let out a low chuckle as a provocative smile broke out on your lips, “i wonder what citizens would say if they saw their beloved and oh so admirable kaeya in this position?”
“maybe~ if you begged a little i might reconsider, don’t you think so, pretty boy?”
kaeya finally lost his composure at this point, all he wanted was to cum from your touch.
“fine... i don’t care anymore.” kaeya growled.
“p-please y/n.” kaeya looked up at you with pleading eyes. “i want to c-cum, i want to cum so bad. i should’ve been a good boy from the beginning… i promise i’ll be obedient from now on, j-just please, let me cum…” kaeya begged
“that’s what i thought.”
satisfied with kaeya’s begging, you decided to grant him his release. you added another ice cube to the other side of kaeya’s chest while stroking his dick through his boxers. of course you didn’t forget to keep teasing kaeya’s prostate while you were at it. all these different stimulations made kaeya lose his mind. the male came through his boxers all over the place. semen spilled on his own stomach and chest followed with moans so loud the entire mondstat could hear him.
after he settled himself down a little, kaeya waited for you to untie him. you exchanged a kiss with him while you were doing so, smiling at each other thinking about what just happened. neither of you cared about the mess that you made because you guys were tired. listening to the birds chirp, you fell asleep with the dark blue haired male on your bed.
the two of you woke up in the afternoon to the noises of mondstat. you woke up a little before kaeya and from your point of view he was literally a sleeping beauty. you stroked his hair a little bit, causing him to wake up.
"y/n…good morning handsome."
"right back at you."
both of you giggled a little while holding hands.
"hey kaeya?"
"yes y/n."
"i've been meaning to get this off my chest and i don't think there will be a better time to say it than now."
"well go ahead, i'm all ears."
"you were the only one that ever stuck with me in the knights, everyone was afraid of me due to my strength except for you. you listened to me, you talked to me, and if it weren't for you i probably would've quit the job at the knights already." you took a deep breath and let out the words kaeya were waiting for.
"kaeya alberich... will you he my boyfriend?"
kaeya gave you a small scoff as a reaction and a light kiss to your lips.
"what reason do i have to refuse such a perfect man?."
1K notes · View notes
luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years
Text
If I Fell For You (Part 6) - Best Friends
Tumblr media
Summary: While out with Jensen and some of his new co-stars, the reader bumps into her father again. This time Jensen knows the truth though and nearly starts a fight. After calming him down, the reader and he have an impromptu date that ends up with Jensen sharing a secret about himself...
Masterlist
Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader
Word Count: 4,800ish
Warnings: language, angst, body insecurities, scars, smut (oral), mention of a dead parent
A/N: I love all of this part so much! Enjoy!
________
The room was toasty warm when you woke the next morning. It took a split second to remember you weren’t in your room and that there was a warm body next to you. Your did a tiny stretch and felt a weight over your waist. It pulled you closer and you smiled, lazily opening your eyes.
“Good morning sunshine,” he said, hair spiked up every which way, green eyes big and sleepy. 
“Morning,” you said, shutting your eyes again and nuzzling him.
“Just when I thought you couldn’t be any more adorable in the mornings, I get to see you waking up,” he said. He played with a piece of your hair and you threw your arm over his waist, holding onto him. “You’re so fucking cute.”
“Cuddle buddies, remember?” you mumbled.
“I’m down for that,” he said. He squeezed you and giggled, kissing your forehead until you turned your head upwards. “Hi.”
“Hi handsome,” you said. He pecked a kiss on your lips, a trio of feet running down the hall. 
“The vultures are awake. Prepare for impact.”
“What?” you said, the door opening and three very small bodies climbing up on the bed.
“Y/N, what are you doing in daddy’s bed?” asked Arrow.
“Don’t you guys want to sleep in for like once?” asked Jensen. He pulled her down to his other side, Zeppelin doing a dive right between you and Jensen, while JJ plopped down behind you. A pillow was knocked over his face as the twins started crawling over him, Jensen chuckling and pushing it out of the way. His face poked out just as JJ started to jump behind you, a little smile there. “Welcome to my Sunday mornings.”
“Glad I was invited this time,” you said. He was about to speak when he squeezed his eyes shut and bent his body in half.
“Zeppelin,” he grit out. “No jumping on daddy’s lap, remember?”
“Oh. I forgot,” he said.
“Who wants pancakes this morning?” you asked. All three shot their hands up and you smiled. “Well you better go brush your teeth if you want some. Go on guys.”
They ran off the bed and out of the room, Jensen laughing when you moved the pillow away.
“Think you’ll survive?” you asked. 
“That kid is single handedly going to guarantee I can’t have more children,” he chuckled. He sat up and stared at you, looking you over. 
“That’s not a conversation for right now.”
“No, it’s not. But...are you interested in your own?” he asked.
“My mom didn’t have my blood but she was still my mom. I don’t need to make a kid to love it,” you said.
“I know. I wonder is all.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Okay,” he said softly.
“Are you, in more?”
“I don’t know. I’m almost 43, in like a month. I don’t want to…I don’t want to have a kid so late in life that they see me go early in their life, you know? That’d be cruel to do.”
“You got a lot of road ahead of you. You’re not like seventy, dude.”
“I know. Everything this year just…it’s just one more kid someday that’s gonna get hurt,” he said.
“It’s one more kid to love too though. Let’s talk about this much, much further down the line, okay?”
“Okay with me,” he said. You rolled out of bed and he followed after, holding his hands over himself. 
“You need an ice pack?” you asked.
“No, I’m good,” he said. “He’s a little...up this morning is all.”
“Oh I noticed,” you said. His cheeks went pink and you laughed. “Dude. Morning wood is normal.”
“Oh. Good. I thought maybe considering what you told me last night it might have...bothered you,” he said.
“I don’t got a problem with dicks or sex. I got a problem with people invading my personal space with them without my consent,” you said. “We cool?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna take care of this. I’ll be down in a second,” he said.
“Have fun,” you said, winking as you headed out.
“The view of you in my clothes is not helping,” he said. You swayed your hips and heard him groan. “You’re gonna pay for that.”
“I sure hope so,” you laughed. You changed into some fresh clothes in your room, something comfortable for the day before you jogged downstairs and found the three of them watching cartoons. “Okay. So who wants to help make breakfast?”
Two Weeks Later
“Shopping buddy!” said Antony when you and Jensen found your way over to the table where he and a few of Jensen’s other new cast mates were getting a drink and some food.
“Wow you really are too adorable when you’re not playing a psychopath,” you said, sliding into the booth beside him, getting a hug. “Hi. I’m Y/N, his shopping buddy.”
“Erin, Karl,” said Jensen. “Don’t you have a super huge crush on Karl, Y/N?”
“Yours is bigger,” you said, a waiter bringing over a pair of drinks and setting them down. You were about to order when you looked at the man and rolled your eyes. “You gotta be kidding me.”
“We’d like a new waiter. Now,” said Jensen. He stared at you and then Jensen before nodding and leaving.
“What was that about?” asked Erin.
“That was my father. We’re not on good terms,” you said. 
“Gotcha. So how’s a pretty girl like you end up with this ugly?” said Karl. 
“Aw, he thinks you’re pretty,” teased Jensen.
“I got eyes for you too, Jensen. Don’t be jealous,” he chuckled.
“Later guys,” said Jensen, arm over your shoulder as you headed for your car a few hours later. “Thanks for going. I’m still getting to know everyone.”
“I had fun. I like your new friends. I’d like to get to know Jared more when we’re back home.”
“Really?” he asked with a soft smile.
“He’s your best friend. You talk to the guy everyday. He’s important to you.”
“Yes he is. I’d definitely love for you guys to get along.”
“Me too,” you said, arm around his waist. 
“Y/N,” you heard behind you and froze, Jensen already spinning around and pushing you behind him.
“Buddy stay the fuck away from her. I’m serious,” said Jensen.
“That’s my daughter,” he said.
“I’d rather die than hurt my daughters unlike some people. Get your piece of shit ass away from us,” said Jensen.
“Y/N, I got help,” he said, looking past Jensen. “I did.”
“Do I look like I care?”
“Y/N-” he said, trying to get around Jensen and earning a shove for it instead. 
“I told you to back off.”
“Hey,” you heard from outside the restaurant, Jensen’s co-stars walking down from where they were waiting for their ride. “What’s going on here?”
“Leave,” Jensen told your father again.
“I want to talk to-”
“Excuse me but I think our friends asked you to leave them alone,” said Antony. You swallowed and noticed people starting to look. The last thing you needed was this turning into a fight and all of them ending up on the front of TMZ.
“Dad,” you said, brushing past Jensen. “Stay the fuck out of my life. Come near me again and I’ll call the cops.”
“I am sorry for what happened.” Jensen growled and you put a hand on his chest, pushing him back.
“You want to make it up to me?” you asked. “Move to Alaska, somewhere I’ll never have to see your face again.”
“Y/N-”
“Leave and never, I mean never, come back.”
He went back into the restaurant and you took a deep breath, glancing down.
“Sorry about that,” you said.
“You guys good?” they asked and you nodded. “Jensen?”
“Yeah I’m good. I’ll see you guys at work,” he said. You pulled him away and down the sidewalk, holding his hand tightly. “Don’t step in front of me like that.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want you near him. Ever.”
“Forget about him. Please. We had fun tonight. That’s all I want to focus on.”
“Okay,” he said when you got to the crosswalk. He pulled you into his side and kissed your temple.
“You’re shaking,” you said.
“I’m freaking out a little bit to be honest,” he said. You hugged him and walked across the street, pulling him into a bar. You found a quiet table in the corner and got him an old fashioned, leaving him seated while you got an order of pretzels too. 
“Eat this,” you said, placing the basket of warm soft dough in front of him. He picked one up and ripped it apart, dipping it in mustard and then the cheese.
“This is really good,” he said. You pulled off his hat and carded your fingers through his hair, Jensen glancing down. “I’m sorry. I should be taking care of you right now.”
“I’m okay and I happen to like taking care of you. Always have,” you said. He nodded and rested his head on your shoulder, eating quietly as you listened to an in house band play on the other side of the bar. “I like this place. It’s kinda quaint.”
“Try some,” he said, holding up the pretzel. You took a bite and hummed. “S’good.”
“Very good. You feel like you calmed down some.”
“I thought he might hurt you. I was so fucking angry it scared me.”
“But you still listened to me and calmed down for me. I’m not gonna be mad that you want to protect me from him.” 
“I feel like I can’t do anything to protect people I care about anymore.”
“Did she ever have to force you to relax?”
“Hm?”
“Your wife. Did she make you take time off or relax or have a lazy day?” you asked. 
“Yeah. How’d you know that?”
“I think your life has been so busy for so long you forget to have the quiet moments to yourself, even though I think that’s truly what you enjoy. I think you had more fun tonight than you would have without me because new people make you nervous. I think you were thrown on pause for so long after the accident that you didn’t realize that you can’t ever go back to how it was, no matter how much you want it to. You need to take more time for you Jensen. The fate of the world doesn’t rest on your shoulders. You can sleep in. You can take a day for yourself and not constantly be with the kids for hours and hours on end. You can take a second to breathe. You gotta. I’m okay. Even if something had happened tonight, it’s not the end of the world.”
He lifted his head up and blinked a few times at you. His hand cupped your cheek and he kissed you, tasting like bourbon and mustard, something different about it this time. Something possessive, something softer. 
“Better?” you asked, stroking his cheek.
“I’m better,” he said, turning into the touch. “You scare me most of all, you know.”
“Why?”
“Cause this is either going to turn out really good or really bad and I’m so fucking tired of being scared.”
“Don’t be,” you said quietly. He swallowed and you looked him up and down. “You’re my best friend. I don’t want you to be scared of me.”
“You’re my best friend too,” he said, nodding and taking a deep breath. You scooted closer and hugged him, Jensen returning it for a long moment. You sat back against the corner and turned him to lean back against you, both of you watching over towards where the band played. He sipped on his drink and you played with his hair, picking at the pretzel while you held him. “Y/N.”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, honey,” you said, kissing the top of his head. “That’s my job.”
He tilted his head back and looked up at you with the biggest green eyes you’d ever seen, a warm feeling filling you. You bent down and kissed him, Jensen grinning by the time you were straightening yourself out. 
A few minutes went by and some more, Jensen ordering a few more drinks and food while you used the bathroom. You returned to your table and picked at fat mozzarella sticks and chicken wings, sipping on a way too expensive scotch while you listened to the band play, tucked away in Jensen’s side. 
“Can I admit something?” he asked while you dunked a cheese stick into a tiny cup of marinara. “I kinda like this more than our date a few weeks ago. Our dress up one. Don’t get me wrong, you were gorgeous but this is kinda perfect all things considered.”
“I’m a cheap date Ackles. Give me some bar food, some music and a cuddle and I’m a happy girl,” you said. You held up your stick and he bit off the end before you popped the other piece in your mouth. “I like this date too. Found out I’m your best friend and all.”
“Do you wanna…” he trailed off. You turned your head up and saw the look in his eye. You nodded and smiled, the two of you getting into your coats and heading outside. You barely caught the name of the bar before Jensen was pulling you after him down towards the car. 
He turned up the heat when you were inside and drove out of the city, finding a quiet and dark little field not too far from the house. 
“Um, I wasn’t...expecting this,” he said. You smirked and sat back in your seat, Jensen turning off the car but leaving the heat running. “I don’t even know what I’m…”
“I’ve never made out in the back of a car before,” you said with a shrug. “I’ve also never made out in the back of a car with you either so…”
“I was thinking something more…” he said, taking a deep breath.
“I’m not on birth control,” you said. 
“I’m not having sex with you for the first time in the back of a car. I have more class than that,” he chuckled. You unbuckled your seatbelt and shrugged out of your coat, leaning over as he backed up against his door. 
“If you’re not ready for this, tell me and I’ll stop,” you said. He nodded and you put a hand on his chest, unzipping his coat. Your hand rested on his lower stomach, just over his belt and he shut his eyes.
“Wait,” he said. You sat back and he sat forward in his seat again, pressing his hand over his stomach. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” you said. You kissed his cheek and sat back in your seat, sticking your arms in your jacket. “Seriously, don’t over think it.”
“I want to. Shit I want to do all sorts of things with you in that backseat. But I need to show you something first and it’s better at home if you find out.”
“Okay,” you said. “Let’s go home then.”
Twenty minutes later the babysitter was gone and you were watching Jensen peel off his shirt in his bedroom, back to you. He dropped his jeans and kicked them aside, turning around in his boxer briefs. He started to pull them down when you shook your head.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“No. I think I’m wearing too many clothes is all.” You turned and took off your top, your face hot as you slipped off your leggings. You dropped them to the ground and straightened up, taking deep breaths. You’d been naked in front of your ex before plenty. But Jensen was just so damn handsome and his body was…
“Y/N,” said Jensen, close behind you but not touching you. “You okay?”
“Didn’t really think through the you seeing me basically naked thing,” you said. He lightly tapped your arm and you spun around, forcing your head up. 
“Basically naked you is hot,” he said, cupping your cheek. 
“I have a stomach,” you said.
“So do I,” he said, patting his own. “You are beautiful, Y/N. Believe me when I say it.”
You nodded and started to relax, Jensen tensing up again though.
“What did you want to show me?” you asked. He walked over to the bed and glanced at it. You took a seat and he shut his eyes, taking a beat before he pushed down his underwear. A thick pink scar ran over his skin and curled down to his leg.
“One of my arteries was damaged in my hip, leg, groin, whatever area, when part of the car kinda...went in me. It’s um...it’s fine now but the scar is…I’m kinda...self-conscious about it...”
“Can I?” you asked. He nodded and you reached out your hand, Jensen opening his eyes as you touched the end closest to his hip. You traced your finger over it and down, curving it back around and to the top of his thigh.
“I know it’s ugly but laser scar removal can be a bitch to deal with, especially down there. I-”
“I love it.”
“What?”
“Scars mean you survived. I’m really happy you survived so yeah, I love it. I don’t give a fuck if you have scars, Jensen. You’re so handsome and attractive and this is not ugly. This is part of you and nothing about you is ugly.”
“It’s not attractive though,” he said, putting his hand over it. You put yours over his and moved it aside.
“You’re standing in front of me naked and you think this scar is what I’m thinking about?” you asked. 
“I haven’t done this with someone new in almost twenty years,” he said. “I’m nervous.”
“Me too. But I meant what I said. It’s just a scar, Jensen. I got ‘em. You got ‘em. I’m attracted to you but that sure as shit ain’t why I like you.” You gently thumbed over the skin and he rested his hand on yours, tracing over it with you this time. “Come here.”
He sat down and you knelt up on your knees, cupping his cheek and kissing him. He sank back and moved towards the middle of the bed, never breaking apart from you. 
“Relax,” you said against his ear. “This is gonna be fun. I promise.”
“Can I take off your bra?” he asked. You nodded and he shook his head. “Why do I feel like I’m doing this for the first time?”
“It is the first time like this. So we’ll move at your speed, okay?”
“How do…” he said, shutting his eyes. He fisted his hands in the sheets and you wrapped your arms around him, Jensen resting his head on your shoulder. “I don’t want to...do certain things bother you?”
“Like…” you said, Jensen taking a deep breath. He lifted his head and looked at you, pursing his lips.
“Do things having to do with sex scare you? I don’t need details or why but with what happened to you I don’t want to frighten you or do something stupid.”
“You’re too sweet,” you said. You stroked his cheek and shook your head. “I’m okay. Trust me. I’ve probably done kinkier shit than you have.”
“Y/N.”
“I’m not scared of you, Ackles. I’ve had all the time in the world to work through that stuff. If you want to take off my bra and leave it at making out in bed naked, that’s fine. If you want to go further, that’s fine too. I’m not pushing you into anything. Ever. I literally can’t imagine being in your position. Take all the time-”
“Why…” he breathed out, resting his forehead against yours, hot breath fanning over your mouth. “Why are you so patient with me? You’re thirty. You could have anyone you want. Why would you want me?”
“Because you’re my best friend, Jensen. You’re the only one I do want.”
He leaned forward, hand sliding up to the back of your neck as he pressed his lips to yours. He slowly took charge of it and you let him, Jensen guiding you to lay back. You kept softly kissing him, matching his pace and cupping his face, running your fingers through his hair. A finger grazed your shoulder and then the other. You moved your arms out of the bra straps, reaching up for him again. You sat up as best you could, Jensen reaching behind you and undoing the clasp before tossing it aside. He didn’t move lower though, just kissed you lazily until he rolled back onto the mattress, pulling you to lay on top of him.
You shifted back and heard him groan when you nudged the tip of his cock. 
“Sorry,” you mumbled, Jensen shaking his head.
“Take off your underwear,” he murmured.
“Jensen I don’t like to have sex unless I’m on birth control. It’s just a-”
“Of course not. There are other things we can do if that’s okay?” he asked. You nodded and rolled to the side, shimmying out of your underwear. He slid down the bed and ran his hands up your thighs, a shiver trickling down your spine. 
“What are you thinking?” you breathed out.
“Wonder how you taste,” he said, licking his lips.
“Are you sure you want to?” you asked. He nodded and you returned it. He leaned down and spread your legs out, large hands sliding up and down your inner thigh, getting closer and closer each time. “What are you doing?”
“S’called foreplay sweetheart,” he said, hands gliding up over your hips and giving a gentle squeeze.
“Jesus Jensen. I was not expecting this from you.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Fuck no.” He smirked and inched his fingers closer and closer to you, teasingly leaving kitten kisses over your hip. Painfully slow he made his way down, dipping his head down and swiping his tongue over your clit. He was soft and gentle at first but he increased the pressure when your legs wrapped over his back.
His hands pinned your hips down to the bed, your own wandering to his hair and running through it. He was very good and when he sucked you fisted his short strands, Jensen doing it over and over while still working his tongue. 
Your legs squeezed him as your orgasm snuck up on you, sharp and powerful. You moaned when the feeling died down but Jensen didn’t let up for a beat.
“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” you said, another orgasm tearing through you. You yelped and threw a hand over your mouth, this one even better than the last. You breathed hard as Jensen finally pulled back, smirking as he pulled his hand away from your mouth. 
“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself,” he teased.
“I think you short circuited my brain,” you breathed out, staring at the ceiling. You giggled and he joined you, laying a hand over your waist. “How the fuck did you get me to come twice. That’s literally never happened outside of some alone time.”
“You find that groove, you stay in it,” he smirked. “You taste excellent by the way.”
“You’re a fucking dirty boy under that soft little face and I’m kinda super hot for it,” you said. He chuckled and you sat up, staring down at him. “Can I return the favor?”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Do you want a condom?”
“You clean?” you asked. He nodded and you smiled. “You okay with me not using one?”
“Yeah. Just don’t expect me to last long.”
You smiled and kissed him before you scooted down the bed. He was hard and leaking a bit of precome when you gently wrapped a hand around the base of him. He tensed up and you flicked your gaze up but he took a deep breath.
“I’m good,” he said. You licked your lips and ducked your head, taking the head of him into your mouth. He breathed harder and you stilled, waiting until he was calmer before you moved your tongue around. You didn’t stroke the rest of him, merely gave him a few teasing touches while you bobbed an inch or two, lightly hollowing your cheeks. He let out soft sighs and quiet grunts that spurred you to take more of him in. You moved lower and faster, swiping your tongue over his head. He started to throb and you sucked hard, Jensen groaning before he came. You pulled off after a moment and swallowed, wiping off your lip with your thumb and sucking it clean. 
“How was that?” you smirked, Jensen throwing his arm over his face. He didn’t seem to be enjoying his post-orgasmic glow though and you tried pulling his arm away. “Hey, you okay? Was it too much?”
“No,” he said, flopping his arm down and staring up at you. “It felt great. I just...I came so fucking early.”
“When’s the last time you had a blowjob?”
“Well over six months. I still-”
“Coming early ain’t a bad thing to me,” you said. “Shit I came after like five minutes which doesn’t happen like, ever. I just care that you had fun.”
“I did,” he said, a smile coming onto his face. “I liked that little under the tip thing you were doing with your tongue.”
“Never met a man that could last longer than a few minutes with that little trick,” you said. You lay down and wrapped your arms around him, Jensen brushing his nose against yours. 
“How many guys you been with? If that’s okay.”
“Three including you,” you shrugged. “Highschool party. The ex which was off and on for a long time. You. You got the nicest dick, that’s for sure.”
He chuckled and you kissed the tip of his nose, Jensen pulling you closer.
“You?”
“Oh I’ve not been with any guys,” he chuckled. 
“Go gentler on the dick than you think you should. They go nuts for it,” you said.
“I will keep that in mind for when it happens,” he laughed. “Pretty much all of my girlfriends in adulthood. Seven or so I’d say.”
“I don’t know why I expected that number to be higher.”
“More than that have tried. I’m not really the hook up guy. Sure I acted like that guy when I was younger but never really was him, you know?”
“You’ve always been sweet. Probably even as a dumb teenage boy, weren’t you.”
“I was a very dumb teenage boy,” he chuckled. “But I didn’t really get in trouble. Flirted with that line once or twice but you know. Teenagers are idiots. I bet you were a good girl, weren’t you.”
“I spent most of my teenage years with my mom sick and then after that I was...I wasn’t really the girl that got involved with that stuff besides some parties.”
“Was it cancer? Your mom?” he asked.
“Radiation poisoning. She’d been accidentally exposed as a little kid on her family’s farm when she got into some supplies she shouldn’t have. Hit her harder later on in life. She’d known since she was a kid that dying young was a strong possibility. It wasn’t easy but I felt kinda better that her first husband Dan was like, maybe waiting for her or some shit. I don’t know. Ray and I used to say that to each other sometimes.”
“Why don’t you talk to Ray anymore?” he asked quietly, playing with a piece of your hair over your shoulder.
“It wasn’t like we had a fight or anything. I just got older, moved out for a nanny job at eighteen. He started to date again and he has this nice little life now with his wife and kids. The idea of a father scared me.”
“My dad’s nice if you ever want to talk to a dad sometime,” he said. He smiled before he cocked his head, his lips parting. “They have no idea I’m dating you.”
“It’s not been that long,” you said.
“I should tell them, before they hear from some tabloid or friend or something,” he said.
“Do you think they’ll have a problem with me?” you asked, his head shaking. “I mean, I’d be leery of me if I were them. I sound like a fucking movie plot. The young nanny gets with the older single dad.”
“My parents want me to be happy again and you make me happy for the first time in a very long time. There’s no way that they couldn’t love you,” he said. You nodded and closed your eyes, covers pulled up over top of the two of you after a few moments. You felt a kiss on your lips and you smiled, inching closer to him. “Thanks. For tonight.”
“You too, Jensen. It was perfect.”
_______
A/N: Read Part 7 here!
477 notes · View notes
naughtyneganjdm · 3 years
Text
Trapped
Tumblr media
Summary: After Negan and Maggie become trapped in a home from The Reapers' attack on the group, they are forced to be together to talk about the tension going on between them.
Characters: Negan & Maggie
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33529606
Warnings: Swearing, smut, mild dubious consent, rough sex, hate sex, etc.
Notes: This was a request. At first, I thought it was a joke, but when the person wrote me very kindly to ask me for this, I agreed. I know Negan and Maggie as a couple would enrage a big part of the fandom. If that's you, just don't read the story. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, but I hope the person who asked me for it enjoys it. Warning, this does have some spoilers from the end of episode 2, in case you haven't seen the episode yet.
“Come on,” Negan called out, waving his hand on when he made it to the broken-down home that he had found with Maggie while running away from the attack that The Reapers brought down on their group.
Clinging desperately to the door at his side, Negan waited for Maggie to catch up and the moment she made it into the home, he slammed the door shut behind her. Immediately locking up the door, he reached for the nearest china cabinet that was right beside the door to block off the doorway. Testing the weight of the cabinet, Negan made sure it would definitely be hard for someone to open the door. There was no way someone could open that door without struggling to do so.
The windows were already boarded up and Negan moved over toward one of them to look through the gaps that were there to see if they had been followed. Thank God, it seemed like they had snuck away without being spotted. Then again, these people were good. They could be out there and they would have never even known it until one of them got hit again. Fuck. How did he get stuck in a situation like this? He knew that he should have said no when they asked him to come on this trip. For some reason, he just felt forced into trying to continue to prove his worth in the community. Then again, if he would have said no to begin with, he was certain they would have forced him anyways. There was no way that Maggie would have let him stay back in Alexandria. There was a reason he was here and he knew that by now.
After standing there for a few minutes to make sure there was no movement in the distance, it seemed like they were safe and Negan took a moment to finally catch his breath. “I think we are safe. For now.”
When he turned on his heel, he let out a grunt when he saw that Maggie had her gun raised once more at him. It was pointed directly at his face and Negan held his hands up in the air defensively. “What now?”
“You made me leave them,” Maggie scowled, her face scrunched up in rage making Negan theatrically bob his head before lowering his hands at his sides. An irritated smirk pressed in over his exhausted features and he shrugged his shoulders. Here they were again. He did something right and that led him to having a gun pointed at his face. This seemed like it was going to be a never-ending cycle between them. “I could have saved Agatha. We could have helped her.”
“If you didn’t leave and I didn’t save you, you would be walker food right now too,” Negan snapped, his eyes narrowing while he stared out at Maggie. There was tension in the air. It wasn’t the first time she had that gun pointed at him today and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. “Instead of letting you die, I saved you. Your friends…all of em’, they are dead. There was nothing you could do to save them. You would have lost your life if you would have tried.”
“Those people were like my family. It should have been you out there instead of them!” she declared making Negan mutter something under his breath and roll his eyes when she said that. Somehow, he managed to save her life and he was still the bad guy. If he did something wrong, he was the bad guy. If he did something right, he was still the bad guy. There was no escaping this tiresome cycle. “They were some of the best fighters I knew.”
“Well clearly it doesn’t matter how good of a fighter you are when it comes to these people. You are dealing with master tacticians here Maggie. If you would have stayed and I didn’t do what I did, we wouldn’t be having this little stand off right now. You would be dead if I didn’t do what I did,” Negan pointed out, wiggling his fingers between the two of them, his eyes big with annoyance. “I made sure that your little boy just might have a chance that his mother might return to him after all of this.”
There was a deafening silence that fell over the both of them and Maggie’s eyes narrowed. A moment later her gun lowered. At this point, he was just getting sick of constantly being threatened with death even when he was doing something morally right. Negan wobbled over to the stairs to see that the upstairs area was blocked off. Checking the rest of the house, Negan confirmed that they would be safe in the small living room that they were locked up in. Everything else in the house appeared to be locked up very well.
A pained wince fell from his throat when an ache flooded down his right leg. Looking down toward his leg that had gotten injured in the attack, Negan could see the blood that was seeping through his pants. After the injury, he had wrapped the bandana around his leg to stop the bleeding, but who knew if it was actually fucking working. It burned like hell.
“This is your moment to relax. Gather yourself. In case they find us again. ‘Cause we are either going to have to run like hell or fight back,” Negan instructed, nodding over toward one of the chairs that was in the corner of the room. Instead of listening to him, she simply glared at him and Negan threw his hands up in the air. If she wasn’t going to take the time to do it, he was. “Or just ignore me. It’s not like I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about or anything.”
Moving over toward the corner of the living room, he dropped down in the corner to rest himself. Clutching tightly to the tire iron in his hands, Negan surveyed the dark room around them. The lights from the cracks in the boarded-up windows is what filled the house with light and he grumbled to himself. The house looked like it had seen better days. The green walls had dirt caked on them and there was a smell of mildew that lingered in the air. A floral chair was sitting upright in the corner and Negan found himself surprised that even though this place was a mess, that it still looked somewhat livable. Setting the tire iron aside, Negan tried to give himself a moment to let the tension from his body leave him. If he continued to be anxious, he knew it would make him fuck up. In order to get through this alive, he knew that his mind needed to be clear.
Loud, uneven breaths fell from Negan’s throat. Dropping his head back against the wall, Negan bit down firmly on his bottom lip and groaned when he felt the pain radiating from his leg. Clearing his mind and thinking of a plan was hard to do with the immense ache. Lazily, his eyes opened and he could see that Maggie was looking him over from where she was standing by the window. Her eyes locked onto his leg and the expression over her face was cold.
“I hope it hurts,” Maggie slurred after finally moving over toward one of the seats at the other end of the room and it made Negan crack a smile after she said that. Nodding, he looked down toward his leg and let out a grumble.
“It does. You’re in luck,” Negan sneered back knowing that things had been tense since the subway station between the two of them. Well, hell…they were always tense. Just not trying to save Maggie when she slipped undoubtedly made everything worse. It felt like only a minute had passed before Maggie was getting up from where she was seated to pace through the living room. She was looking from window to window as if trying to come up with a plan. “You’re going to wear a hole in the damn floor with the pacing if you keep that shit up.”
“Do you ever shut up?” she jeered and it made Negan snicker. Part of him wanted to be a smart ass and give her the answer he often would others, but instead he stayed quiet. “I’m trying to think of a way to go back. Maybe one of them…”
“None of them made it out Maggie. They are gone. You saw it. I saw it. Pretending that you can somehow save them is only going to get you killed. We need to move forward,” Negan instructed, swallowing down hard. Visibly she hated the answer, but so did he. The more numbers they had, the better chance they had against The Reapers. It was just the two of them and they had no chance of making this work. “Before we keeping moving, we first need to take a few minutes to gather our strength. If we run on empty, we’re just going to be easy targets for these people. You saw how easily they killed everyone. We have no chance just the two of us.”
Instead of listening to him, she continued to stare outside the cracks in the window. With a frustrated grunt, Negan reached to pinch at the bridge of his nose and shook his head, “You know, just because you hate me doesn’t mean you have to be stupid. Sometimes I know what the hell I’m doing and saying. I could be helping you here.”
“You don’t care about helping,” she yelled at him from where she was standing by the windows and Negan dramatically threw his hands up in the air before rolling his eyes. “I don’t want to hear your bullshit.”
“You’re right. I don’t give a shit. If I didn’t give a shit, I would have left you to die! I didn’t!” Negan maintained, his eyes getting dark with anger when he rose his voice back at her. “I am so sick of you people telling me how I feel and what I’m doing when my actions are going against what you are actually saying. You’re right, I left you there at the subway train, but let’s be honest you would have pushed me off the fucking thing if roles were reversed and you fucking know it.”
There was a silence and her face twisted with an emotion he couldn’t quite read. Lifting his finger, he spun it in the air and pointed at her, “Exactly! You would have and you know it! But I just saved you a few minutes ago. I could have just left you to die and then I would have been fine. You would have been out of my life and I would have been so much safer. Yet here we are after I just saved your ass!”
Maggie’s face twitched in irritation after he said that and a defeated breath fell from her lungs. She moved over to the opposite side of the living room and dropped down in the corner facing straight at him. Her bright eyes glared out at him and pierced through him making an uncomfortable sigh escape his throat.
“Listen,” Negan panted, still trying to catch his breath. His heart was hammering inside of his chest and he reached up to wipe at his face with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry that your friends died out there. I know that…”
“Don’t,” she held her hand up in the air to cut him off, to keep him from saying anything else. “You’re not someone who is sorry. You may have saved my ass. Okay. But you’re not someone that is sorry. If you were sorry, you would have already apologized a long time ago. You’re a cold, dark piece of shit. Where your heart should be is a blackhole of emptiness. So don’t sell me that you are sorry.”
“Are you talking about Glenn?” Negan inquired, his thick eyebrows arching up when her head tilted to the side. Yeah, he fucked up knowing that she hated even the sound of Glenn’s name falling from his lips. “What would apologizing for what I did to Glenn do for you?”
“Shut up,” she demanded and Negan shook his head, his loud breathing filling the air around them. “Don’t say his name.”
“Are you telling me that saying I’m sorry for what I did to Glenn would make you feel better?” Negan pushed the subject harder and his voice filled with just a little bit more venom. Her body locked up upon hearing his words. Shaking his head, he bit at his bottom lip and threw his hands up again. “Me apologizing would do absolutely nothing for you Maggie! It won’t bring Glenn back. It won’t make up for the pain and the agony I caused you. It won’t bring your little boy’s father back…”
Almost immediately Maggie stood up from the ground and stomped over toward the corner where Negan was to whip the gun against the side of Negan’s face again. This time it connected hard enough for him to get a bloody nose. The taste of his blood over his lips was enough for him to prove that. Instead of moving, Negan watched as Maggie brough the gun up to point at him again.  
“I don’t know what you want me to say Maggie. Do I regret what I did? Every fucking day of my life. I didn’t know you were pregnant, but at the time I didn’t give a shit. I saw a group that killed my people and I was out to get revenge. I thought back then the man I became was the man I was supposed to be. I was wrong. I didn’t think about the awful, horrible things I was doing, but me apologizing is not going to make up for the things that I did,” Negan insisted with a sadness in his tone, his hazel eyes almost tearing over as he spoke. “I still did those things. Yeah, I’m the not man I used to be anymore. I hate what I did to people. I hate the man I became. I hate the person that I was. I wish I could go back, but I can’t. But what good would apologizing do? I can’t change what happened. I took the person you loved away from you. I can’t make up for that. I never will, no matter how hard I tried.”
There was rage in the way that Maggie was breathing, her finger was over the trigger and Negan’s bottom lip was trembling while he stared up at her, “So am I sorry Maggie? Yeah. I’m sorry. But does it change the way you feel about things?”
Maggie’s whole body shook while she kept the gun raised up and when she lowered the gun to look away from Negan, he cleared his throat. Pushing the blood away from his nose, Negan knew that it hurt like hell, but there were other things on his mind. Inside of his chest, he could feel his heart pounding away, but he knew that he needed to get it off his chest, “If you find peace in killing me, then do it Maggie. Do it now. Get it over with. I’m accepting of it. This cat and mouse game of constantly threatening me is helping neither of us. I’m trying to be a better man and if the threat of death is over my head all the time, then what’s the fucking point? I know you hate me. If killing me…”  
“Shut up,” she lowered down on her knees and he heard her shuddering breaths filling the air. Uncertainty filled his body at how to handle this whole situation. Getting up from the corner of the room, he moved across the room and knelt in behind her. Placing his hand over her shoulder, Negan for some unknown reason even to himself was attempting to comfort her. “Don’t…”
“Listen, I know you’ve lost a lot,” Negan began and he felt the power of her turning toward him knocking him over onto the floor.
Scrambling backwards toward the corner of the living room where he was originally, Negan knew that he wanted to let her have her space. God, that was a stupid idea. The stare she was giving him made him cuss to himself when she took her time walking over toward where he was seated. Looking up at her with his big eyes, a grunt escaped his lips when she smacked him firmly across the side of the face.
“Do you ever shut up?” Maggie repeated an earlier question, hitting at Negan’s face over and over again. Lifting his hands up, Negan tried to block his face, but her hits lowered to his chest and instead of fighting those, he let her do it. The face he wanted to keep safe so he could still think with his head when the time came, but if beating on him helped her release whatever was going on…he could handle a few bruises. “Do something!”
“No,” Negan shook his head with a grimace when she hit him determinedly in the center of the chest. There was confusion that flooded her face. A loud grunt fell from Negan’s throat when she reached out to slam her hand into the center of Negan’s throat making his head slam back against the wall. A pained sound fell from his throat that was replaced with shock when he felt her lips over his. The kiss was rough, but Negan didn’t react to it because he didn’t know what was happening. Frozen, Negan was utterly confused with her actions while she kissed at his lips with quite some strength.
When Maggie pulled away, Negan’s eyes narrowed out at her and he cleared his throat uneasily. Staring in Maggie’s vibrant green eyes, Negan knew that she was still furious with him. So, what the hell was happening here? Did he just picture that whole fucked up scenario in his mind? “What’s going on here?”
“Just, shut up Negan,” she demanded, her hand still sturdily placed over the center of his throat and Negan hummed when her mouth covered his again.
Part of him was fucking terrified still. How couldn’t he be? It just had been so long since he had the soft caress of another pair of lips over his. Because of that, his better judgement was slipping away. Gradually, he started to kiss Maggie back. The adrenaline was flooding through his body while she kissed him. There was a need to want to reach out and touch her, but he kept his hands firmly at his sides. Just now, he wasn’t holding back in returning the gesture with his lips against hers.  
“Fuck,” Negan growled out when she bit at his bottom lip and tugged on it with her teeth. Wincing when she looked him over with her big eyes, Negan didn’t know how to respond. Was that her angry at him for kissing her back? Was that her way of being rough? Pretty much right now Negan was staying still because he didn’t want to make the wrong move. His breathing had gotten louder and he watched her shift over him. When her hands reached out for his belt, he finally lifted his hands to grab a hold of hers. “You don’t want this. You don’t.”
“For all you know the two of us could be dead in the next few minutes Negan,” she reminded him and his eyebrows arched in curiosity when she said that. Sure, that would usually make someone look at sex differently, but sex with Maggie made him think he would certainly be dying within the next few minutes. It felt like some kind of trick from her end. “Now do us both a favor and shut the hell up.”
Against his sense of logic, Negan lowered his hands and watched her pull apart the belt in his pants. Truthfully, his breaths were panicked ones. Biting down on his bottom lip, Negan adjusted his hips when she struggled to get the material of his pants apart. When she got the zipper down, Negan felt her hand pushing beneath his pants to grab a hold of his manhood to pull it out into the cool air surrounding them.
Looking down, he watched her hand pumping over his length clearly working to get him hard. Licking at his bottom lip, Negan didn’t know if he should be asking her what was on her mind. Was she going to get him hard just to cut it off? At this point, that’s what he thought she was doing. So yeah, he probably sounded like a scared little bitch, but he was. With his dick out and his enemy being the one in control of it, that wasn’t exactly something he was comfortable with.
A deep rumble of a moan fell from his throat when his body reacted to the firm grasp her palm had wrapped around him. Even frightened he was getting hard and he cussed to himself wishing like hell he wasn’t having this reaction. Involuntarily, Negan’s hips arched up toward her closed fist that was pumping over his length. Damn, he wished this didn’t feel as good as it did. The moment was horrible. They had people after them. They needed to be quiet, yet here Maggie was giving him a hand job. That in itself was confusing enough.  
“Fuck,” Negan grumbled, his throat flexing while watching the determination in her eyes. Even though he tried to force himself to be quiet, muted moans fell from his throat. Dropping his head back, short jolts of pleasure filled his entire body and he didn’t know how to react. When he was completely solid in her grasp, he let out a wince and bit harshly at his bottom lip. “What’s happening here Maggie?”
Silence. Nothing in return to his question. Looking down toward his lap, Negan gulped loudly. There were a lot of thoughts running through Maggie’s mind. She wasn’t saying anything, but he could tell that there were so many things she was thinking about. The look in her eyes told him that. Maggie bit at her bottom lip before getting up. Pulling her jacket from her body, Negan watched it drop to the ground and his throat went dry. When she reached for her pants, Negan felt a warmth flood throughout his cock making him grunt. There was no lying that his body was excited at the idea of sex with the incredibly beautiful woman before him. Just, he kind of wished he knew what the hell the outcome of this was going to be.  
His thick eyebrows bounced up in surprise and a panicked exhale escaped his throat. Maggie was swiftly tugging at the material of her pants after she kicked out of her boots. When she kicked the material aside, Negan felt his mouth go dry. Licking his lips, he let out a shuddering breath when she moved in over him.
“Maggie?” Negan tried to get her to look at him to find some kind of reason as to why this was all happening. Reaching out, Negan tried to grab her face in his palms and she slammed his hands back down at his sides. Obeying, Negan kept his hands down with tension in his body. When she crawled in over him, Negan let out a sigh. Reaching down, Maggie pushed the material of her panties aside and Negan couldn’t help but steal a glance. Noticing that she was getting more comfortable over him, he couldn’t keep the idea that this was fucked up out of his mind. “Wait, are you sure about this?”
“What? You don’t want this?” Maggie reached up with her right hand to grab a tight hold of Negan’s throat again, putting a tiny amount of pressure on the soft spot at the center of it. Negan’s Adam’s apple bounced in his throat and his teeth gritted together. “That’s a shame. I thought you might be the kind of guy that likes to be dominated by a woman.”
“Well, yeah…” Negan stammered, his body quivering when he felt her warmth hovering just over him. In another world, yeah, he would have jumped right into this. No questions asked. Maggie was fucking beautiful. But knowing their past, knowing what happened…he was having a hard time having this all make sense. “I’m very interested, but I just…”
“Then sit back, shut up and enjoy it,” she ordered and Negan’s jaw flexed when she reached down between them with her free hand to caress over Negan’s solid form. Lifting her hips up, Negan kept his eyes hooked with hers. When the tip of his cock traced through her folds, a moan fell from his throat and his eyes got heavy with lust. “For the first time I think you’re speechless Negan.”
A grunt fell from Negan’s parted lips when Maggie lowered her body down his length. The sound of Maggie’s gasp filled the air and he felt her fingers clinging tightly to his shoulders when she attempted to brace herself. Damn, Negan wanted to touch her. To put his hands on her hips, but this was all Maggie.
Attempting to look down at her body lowering down over his length, Negan felt her bang his head back against the wall again making him hiss when she did it. Tugging her fingers through his hair, she demanded his eyes to be hooked on hers. The warmth of her surrounding him was almost too much to take. Watching her lips part and her eyes come to a tight close, Negan felt his heart pound harder inside of his chest. God, he was looking at Maggie in a new light and he had no idea where this would leave them afterwards.
By the time she lowered over him completely, Negan lifted his right hand and slid it in over her side. Grasping loosely to her body, he was surprised that she didn’t force it back or yell at him. Maggie adjusted herself over Negan, trying to find the right positioning to keep herself comfortable before her hips started to raise over his length before lowering again.
There was a fire flooding Negan’s veins while he watched her face scrunch up. She was taking her time getting used to his body and it was causing chills to run through his whole body. Grunting, Negan felt Maggie’s nails biting into his shoulders from where her hands were grasping firmly at his shoulders to help her movements over him.
Each roll of her hips over him had started to become more confident. The rocking of her hips up and down had become steadier, fluid movements. They had to be quiet, he knew that, but he couldn’t help the occasional moans that fell from his throat while Maggie had absolute control of his body. This was something he could never even imagine in his dreams. Even in his dreams he would have known better, so whatever was happening now was a mystery to even him.
“Maggie,” Negan spoke her name and she hushed him, lifting one of her hands to place it over his mouth. Each thrust down over him started to get more powerful and his eyebrows clenched. Pulling his head away, he wondered if she was thinking of someone else. With her eyes closed, he didn’t know what was going through her mind. Leaning forward, he claimed her lips in a kiss and it seemed to shock her when he did it. Negan was unsure of himself at first, but the more she seemed to get into it, the more he did as well. Brushing his tongue between her lips, he flicked it faintly against hers before growling out when he felt her dominant movements over him. “Fucking hell…”
Maggie was rough. She was using him the way she wanted and there was no fooling anybody. This wasn’t out to be romantic. This wasn’t out to be a gentle moment between the two of them to fix what had been happening. This was a hard fuck and she was using his body the way she damn well pleased.
Hissing out, he felt her biting into his bottom lip again and undoubtedly this time she broke the skin. Curling his fingers around the back of her neck, Negan let his thumb drag over her throat and down her jawline. There was a darkness in Maggie’s eyes that he hadn’t quite seen before. He hated to admit it, but he liked it.
Going to speak up, Negan felt the firm smack of Maggie’s hand against the side of his face and he made an angry sound. Instead of saying a word, Negan powerfully wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her in firmly to him. Using his strength, he helped her bounce her hips over him. Their breaths became more frantic when they started to work together. Another firm smack filled the air after she hit him again, but Negan took it. This was hate sex. That’s what she wanted, so what the hell? Negan was going to give it to her.
Starting to thrust his hips up from underneath her, Negan was matching her movements over him. Each time he would buck upwards toward her, a whimper of sorts would escape from her throat. Kissing her again, Negan knew that they were attempting to be quiet. The last thing they needed was walkers hearing them and drawing them to the house. Then it would certainly lead The Reapers to them.
The sounds of their bodies smacking together were loud. Maggie was grasping to him tightly, trying to take control of the moment, but Negan kept bucking his hips up toward her. Maggie’s body froze over him and he could feel her nails digging into the cotton of his shirt. Keeping up with the movements of his body beneath her, he watched her eyes slam shut. Her palms dropped to press in over his abdomen as if to try to stop his movements. Maybe she didn’t want to have an orgasm because of him, but Negan picked up on the want of her body and continued to use his power to thrust up toward her repeatedly.
With a cry from Maggie, Negan pulled her to him. He felt her body start to tremor and shake over him. His mouth covered hers and he felt her forcefully pushing into his abdomen to get him to stop when she reached that orgasm he had worked so hard to build up inside of her. With shaking, tremoring thighs and her body flushed, Negan took his time to admire the woman he knew fucking hated him over him. If things were different, he could easily find himself getting attached to a strong woman like this, but their pasts would make it impossible. The natural glow she had after having an orgasm made her look stunning to him. The hate still lingered in her eyes, but the pleasure laced into her expression turned him on so much. Visibly, it seemed like she was not exactly happy with herself that Negan had been able to make her climax, but her body certainly enjoyed it.
By the time she finally shook the feeling, her eyes lifted to his and she looked angry. With a firm shove, Negan’s back hit the wall again. Her right hand pressed in over Negan’s mouth and her left reached back to brace herself over him. It was the hurt leg she grasped to and Negan immediately let out a pained sound against her hand that was covering his mouth. Using the stability she had in the moment, she sturdily brought her hips over his again and again. It was hard to focus on what he was feeling most in the moment. The pain from the injury she was digging her fingers into or the incredible amounts of pleasure she was drawing out from inside of him while she had her way with him.  
Growling against her hand, Negan’s eyes slammed shut. There was a fire burning in the pit of his stomach and he felt the muscles in his abdominal area start to flex. Desperate moans began falling from Negan’s throat when he could feel his orgasm approaching with her forceful movements over him. A frustrated, mumbled sound pressed against Maggie’s hand when she lifted her hips from Negan before he could cum. Her fingertips wrapped around the tip of his penis where the head met the shaft forcing him to hold back on his orgasm. A pained yelp fell deep from his throat when his body was absolutely ready to fall apart.  
God, she was fucking torturing him with this. When he was denied his orgasm, she crawled back in over him and with ease her body slid back down over his. Shakily, Negan reached for her hips and tried to help move her over him so he could work his body back up to that pleasure point. Almost immediately though, she reached for his hands and forced them back against the wall over his head. Holding tightly to his wrists, Maggie continued to control the movement over him and Negan cried out into her mouth when she began to kiss him again.
“Please…” Negan begged noticing that her movements were rough until she felt him tensing up beneath her. Whenever he was close to coming, she would stop all movements and it had him a shuddering mess. Negan wasn’t one for begging, but his body was tingling. Everything was eager for a release of some kind, but she wasn’t allowing it from him. “Maggie, please.”
“It hurts to want something so bad, doesn’t it?” she hovered her lips over his and Negan’s eyelids were heavy with lust. There was a want in his eyes and she knew that she had him in the palm of her hand. “To be controlled in every way possible.”
Negan didn’t say anything, he just desperately tried to move his hips, but she had the power and the strength over him right there. Maggie’s eyes were locked on his. The grasp she had around his wrists was getting tighter and Negan’s lips parted. He was panting, his chest rising and falling repeatedly.
“I asked you a question, does it hurt?” she repeated what she had said and Negan’s head fell back. His eyelashes fluttered and he felt her adjusting his wrists so she had them hooked together with one of her hands over his head. Using her free hand, she smacked at the side of his face again making him grunt before she grabbed a tight hold of his chiseled jaw. “Speak when you are spoken to Negan.”
“Yes,” Negan finally gave in and gave her the answer that she wanted to hear. She was using his own words against him and he was picking up on all of the hints. “Yes, it hurts. It hurts a lot.”
“Good,” she nodded her head, keeping her hips still over his while he remained inside of her. “Now beg me. Tell me you want to cum.”
“Please Maggie,” Negan felt her smack him again and he winced when she did it. The side of his face was starting to burn, but the sensitivity of his body was increased from it. Her beating the hell out of him surprisingly turned him on more than he expected when her hips started to unhurriedly move again. “Maggie, I’m begging you…”
“Do it better,” she demanded with another smack and Negan felt her hips starting to bounce powerfully over his extremely aching body. He was ready to explode and he knew that. It wouldn’t take much more. His body was shaking beneath her. His thighs were tremoring and his thick jaw flexed.
“Please, I’m begging you with everything that I am, let me cum,” Negan whimpered and after a few more steady movements over him, Negan threw back his head and let out a roar of a moan. His jaw dropped, his body shaking when his orgasm started. His hips eagerly bounced up toward hers and he was surprised how good his release actually felt. When she stopped moving over him, she dropped his wrists down and firmly shoved his head back again. Pulling her hips away from Negan, he cussed out a slew of incoherent words while she shakily pulled herself back and away from him. “Fuck me.”
Licking his lips, Negan looked down at his aching body and felt butterflies in his stomach. No one had ever taken control of him like that before and he found himself in awe of Maggie. When his eyes connected with hers again, Negan could see that she was fixing her panties and reaching for her pants. While she was still sitting on the ground, she was tugging her pants back up her body.
It took Negan a while before he could even gain the strength to pull his pants back together. Pushing himself back beneath the material, Negan started buckling them back together and his throat went dry. Doing that had Negan looking at Maggie in a new light and he was surprised how just having sex with her could affect him so much.
Almost immediately, Maggie had herself put back together and she was looking out the window again. On wobbly legs, Negan managed to pull himself up and finish putting his pants back together. Taking the time to gather himself again, Negan moved across the living room and reached out to try to touch Maggie’s shoulder.
“Maggie…” he wanted to find out what that was. Yet, he felt her pulling away from him.
“I still fucking hate you Negan,” she informed him, looking over her shoulder at him and Negan’s jaw flexed upon hearing her say that. “I want you dead and it’s still taking everything inside of me not to kill you. It was just hate sex. That’s all it was. It’s changed absolutely nothing.”
“Okay,” Negan simply responded knowing that sadly, it changed some things for him. It wasn’t like he was in love with the woman before him, but he definitely was starting to see her in a different light. While he wanted to talk about what just happened, he knew better than to do that. She was done with it. She didn’t want to talk about it, so it was best for him to forget it. That was probably half the torture in itself. It was something he wanted to think about. It was something that felt so good, yet she didn’t want to acknowledge what happened. That was torture in itself. “So, what’s the plan boss?”
Maybe it was for the best for Negan to forget this all happened in general. Hell, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that, but this changed nothing for Maggie. And no matter how much he wanted there to be something more to this, he knew there wasn’t. It simply was what it was and nothing more.
168 notes · View notes