#like tag it white/pale reader or i will fucking kill you

[vampireloverz]

sick of the miguel fics with obviously white readers like. sure u can not speak spanish but “amor”. come on now. u dont have a clue on gods green earth what miguel calling u “amor” could possibly mean?? kys

[megumimania]

STARSTRUCK — art donaldson

synopsis: as art’s donaldson’s biggest fan you have to make yourself known to him by any means necessary.

warnings/tags: nsfw under the cut (17+), art x superfan!reader, reader is kinda delulu, p in v sex, public sex, unprotected sex, first time writing smut so be nice i beg 😩, please don’t fuck in bathrooms or have unprotected sex,!

art shouldn’t even be here right now.

the pr mess that would ensue if he was caught by an eagle eyed fan or the paparazzi was a nightmare that he didn’t want to deal with. after all what brand would endorse a player that had been seen attending a club?

the neon sign of the club illuminated the street corner, creating a light purple haze that drew him in like a moth to a flame. new rochelle was a fairly uneventful county and since tashi was away every night doing god knows what, art was desperate to kill some time.

he entered the club in a baseball cap, sunglasses and some sweats, trying to mantain a low profile. but it was hard to be discreet when he was casually adorning a rolex on his wrist, which drew some attention from some patrons with how it caught in the light.

bass filled rap music was blasting through the speakers as art moved his way through the throng of the bodies dancing, grinding and making out in the club.

thankfully no one bothered to pay attention to the random white dude in sweats as he took his spot at the club’s vip section, sipping on his drink and mindlessly swaying to the beat of the music.

men and women came over to his section, trying to charm and flirt their way into his pants or to get a drink but he wasn’t interested at all.

he was pulled out of his thoughts by a tap on his shoulder and his immediate reflex was to say no pictures but when he finally made out who it was his face paled, the blood devoid on his face.

how did you know he was here?

art couldn’t believe it.

his number one super-fan aka the head of the so called artnation on twitter and instagram had managed to track him down. honestly he was both super impressed and kind of freaked out but he didn’t let it show. what a way to spend to spend a friday night, he thought to himself.

you were everywhere he went: at the meet and greets, the us open, wimbledon, the australia open, his launch parties. every time you met him, you always had that stupid starstruck look in your eyes when ever he signed another piece of memorabilia for you to add to your collection, made you look even more pathetic.

“how did you find me?” art grumbled, his plans for a quiet booze filled night going down the drain.

what made matters worse was the proximity between you both. you were leaning over him, your boobs practically spilling out of your dress. your voice was a mere whisper, tickling the hairs on his sensitive neck.

god he was a wreck.

“i have my sources.” you replied, not wanting to give

that part was believable. art’s legion of super fans were unreal. whilst some spent their time breaking down the cost of the outfits he wore and some spent their time speculating on his future collaborations, others spent their time tracking his location.

“well…uh it was nice meeting you. again.” art spluttered, looking for the way to end the conversation without sounding like an asshole. “i’ve gotta go to the bathroom.” he stood up taking his leave.

“wait up!” you called out after him. you needed to grab his attention for a longer while, you wanted to have a conversation with art that was memorable, something that you two could joke or talk about when you both “ran” into each other next.

“is it true that you and tashi are getting a divorce?”

“what?” art’s head spun around so fast that he almost gave himself whiplash.

“where the hell do you get off on making up rumours about my wife like that?” his stepped closer to you and you could make out the tick of his jaw underneath the strobe lights. yeah he was pissed.

you sometimes got ahead of yourself and this was one of the times where you low-key felt bad for overstepping boundaries, but in your eyes it was all apart of the fan experience.

what you didn’t expect was to be getting fucked by the art donaldson in a dark club bathroom, his fingers stuffed in your mouth so you wouldn’t make a sound.

who knew that art’s anger towards your lack of respect for his marriage and privacy would have him end up fucking you in the club bathroom?

the music drowned out your moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin as art buried himself inside you, his tip just brushing against your g spot. your dress was bunched up to your hips and your panties were in tatters on the ground.

“hope you’re fucking proud of yourself. all those years of stalking me and my family finally paid off hm?” he groaned against your ear. the way your pussy was milking him dry was enough to send him into a frenzy.

art should’ve felt bad or even guilty for what he was doing, his wedding ring still being on was a glaring reminder of his promised vows of fidelity but what was a relationship without any secrets?

maybe thats why he was here right now, balls deep inside you. he wanted a secret, something to hold over tashi, drive her insane, make her second guess he ever told her, like he did on that one night in atlanta.

you were too fucked out to respond, your mind becoming hazy with each thrust. you held onto the bathroom wall, desperately attempting to anchor yourself into this reality.

“f-fuck don’t stop.” you shuddered as art kept his brutal unforgiving pace, not paying attention to the banging outside the door.

“is that all you gotta say to me?” he grabbed onto your hips, pulling you flush against him so that you now took every inch of his dick. “c’mon i know you got a bigger vocabulary than that.” he teased, rolling his hips into yours watching your jaw go slack as you became drunk on him.

you whined at the sensation, your wet pussy fluttering around him, making his eyes roll back. “please i-im sorry.” you pleaded, your eyes glossy and filled with lust and need but art wasn’t swayed that easily, so he played dumb.

“sorry for what?” he asked, his hands finding your tits, squeezing them as his fingers rolled over your sensitive nipples, eliciting a mewl from you. he wasn’t gonna last any longer if your cunt kept him prisoner like this.

“f-for harassing you and invading your privacy—shit!” you groaned out as art started to fuck into you again, leaning forward to give you a sloppy, wet kiss. “that’s more like it.” art grunted in your ear, feeling his climax soon approaching.

his strokes were more frantic, less controlled as his hips stuttered with each thrust, the coolness of his wedding band against your hips contrasting with the warmth you both felt building up inside of you both. it was literal bliss.

the knot that was finally building up inside of you finally snapped as you came all over his dick with a cry, slumped over his shoulder. his orgasm slowly approached after, as he came all over your dress.

you both stayed like that for a moment as you tried to regain your breath, your hearts beating in tandem with one another.

the passion filled atmosphere dissipated as you were pulled back into reality, the buzz of chatter outside the door, the click-clack sound of heels entering and leaving the bathroom, the smell of weed and cigarette smoke coming from the window.

art looked like he was mentally somewhere else, maybe the weight of his actions finally settled in. tashi didn’t look like a woman who could stay with a cheater. you weren’t going to wait for him, you already got what you wanted and even more, this night would be enough to satiate you for months.

“you run to the blogs or the press about this and i swear on everything holy and good that i will sue your ass for every penny that you have. you got that?” he was back to his professional tone that had you weak in the knees before leaving the scene of passion soon after.

sure you spent your days talking about him in fanspaces online, speculating about his life but you’d never let this night of passion be shared online. it was too intimate, too personal. despite its brief nature of your encounter it was what tied you together.

you were apart of his life now, whether the memories of tonight that he’d have were good or terrible, you completed your goal. you left a lasting impression on him and would occupy a space in his mind no matter how many times he tried to forget.

people always say to never meet your idols but maybe they’ve never had the chance to fuck them yet.

[anlian-aishang]

He could feel you staring. And indeed, you were. God, you sighed to yourself, he was so fucking beautiful.

tags: levi x reader, angst, smut, hurt-comfort, gun mention, injury descriptions, self-sacrificial thoughts, caretaking, insecurity [felt by levi], body worship, canonverse, fem!reader.

word count: 5400

It was a miracle you found them, even more miraculous that Hange did not snipe you first. Over the barrel of the gun, their hazel eyes ran bloodshot. A murderous, fight-or-flight fear you had never seen on the commander’s face. If not for the moonlight that outlined your surrendering hands, surely, you would have joined the two corpses on the ground between you both. 

“Hange!!” Your frantic scream scared sleeping birds off their branches. Flaps of their wings matched the spasms in your nerves. “It’s me!”

Your ears picked up the graze of metal as their finger twitched along the trigger. Eyes focused in to meet theirs in promise. Your jaw fell further, not at the proximity between you and death, but at the single tear that slid down their cheek. Trauma spilling over Hange’s bright and bubbly facade. 

They lowered the rifle with a sigh, one you could see in the thick white cloud of their breath. With an exhausted exhale, beneath their hood, they offered.

“Do you want to see him?”

// // //

Hange walked slower than you would have liked. On the other hand, they probably thought you were going too fast. They had not had the time to blink, let alone sleep, in days. It was what you reminded yourself as you dampened your pace for their sake, the sedative to your aching legs, yearning to sprint to him. 

They made intentional small talk, asking how your intelligence missions were going - wondering if you had a good grasp on what the Yeagerists were up to. Of course, it was all pointless now. Obviously, Floch and his faction had succeeded. The end of the world had already started. 

The commander could tell, and you knew that they could. They would not ask you such blatantly meaningless questions, unless there was something to hide. 

“Hange,” your voice was deathly low, “just tell me.” Eye contact deliberately, mutually avoided. “How bad is it?”

Another heavy sigh. Twigs crunched beneath boots. A silence that felt like forever, that almost spoke for itself. Hange looked to the starry sky above, and for a moment, your heart sank. Is he…?!

Hange shot you a smirk, pained but genuine. “He’s a tough lil guy, isn’t he?”

He’s alive. 

“Anyone else would be sauteed to bits, and to be honest -” Hange parsed, “- I still can’t figure out how he made it.” 

Sauteed. Fire? Bits. An explosion? 

“I can only think -” they gave a loose tug of their hair tie, “- it’s because he’s an Ackerman.”

You had not put it all together, but the bloodstained patch of grass, the worn handle with lone fingers attached, the bodies of former comrades rotting outside - all the traces you tracked along your journey here painted an awfully vivid picture. Through those tiny details, you constructed the larger story. Levi had been targeted, and if not for Hange’s intervention, your partner would have been murdered by either Zeke’s or the Yeagerists’ hands.

Yet, in the commander, you could sense a tremendous guilt. Blinded by Levi’s current critical condition, or perhaps the recent killings of their subordinates, they saw themselves as no hero. Finally, you recognized why Hange was slugging along: a delay. Conscious or not. Procrastinating the revelation of the new Levi to his old lover. 

While they wallowed in their own failures, you only saw their successes. Each trudge of their steps against the earth felt heavy, you longed to lighten them, to have Hange see themselves as the savior they were.  

“No, Hange.” A gentle hand to their back. They startled, then soothed, at your touch. “It’s because of you.” 

With hesitation, they finally met your gaze. Their skin a staunch pale even in this pitch black night. A stark frown, regrets within. And Levi would not have liked that.

“He’s alive, not because of his last name, but because of you.” Your delicate touch morphed to a fierce grip, shaking them. “Hange, please,” clenched teeth, quivering lip, “you know that, right?”

Certainly, they were smart enough to know that.

Hange pushed a single finger to their glasses, “Y…Yeah.”

“Hange.” Your smile was both sincere and serious. You clutched their hand with both of yours and squeezed, “Thank you.”

They cleared their throat and swallowed, an awkward, guilty laugh. “Maybe you should save your thanks until you see him.”

// // //

Nauseous with both fright and excitement. Anxious as you anticipated touching him, counterbalanced with the fear of causing him further pain. Relief as you watched his chest rise and fall. Disheartened at how labored those breaths were. The emotions you felt at his sight, all but indescribable.

Considerate as you always were - even to your own detriment - it was what everyone loved about you, especially him. Knowing how defeated Hange felt, and in the wake of all the reassurance you had provided them on your walk, you knew all your comforting efforts would have been dismantled if you started to break down. Subduing yourself, you clenched fists at your sides and dug your nails into your palms. Trembling lip dipped beneath your teeth, biting down to still. Toes curled within your leather boots, stabling yourself as knees began to buckle. 

Witnessing your reunion, emotions were contagious to Hange. They artificially lifted their voice and offered instructions - a thin veil of distraction. “Well!” Hange gleamed, “He’s been out for a couple hours now, ever since Eren's… well, you know.”

That was one way to put it.

“I really have no idea when he’ll wake up, but he will.” Hange promised. “If he doesn’t get up on his own, you may have to help him. Bandages need changing in a few.”

Bandages? You had yet to notice until then. Upon entering the camp, you froze the moment you saw him. At that distance, he was just a bundle of blankets. You brought your sleeve to your eyes and wiped away the blur, and only then did you see the gauze that engulfed his face. 

Another pang of nausea. Mouth gaped to sob. You threw your forearm over it. A contrived cough to conceal your reaction, it failed. 

Behind you, Hange frowned. This time, it was their turn to cup your shoulder in their hand. In your peripheral vision, they pointed to a decorated tree stump. “When you do, make sure to clean his wounds first.” Atop the makeshift table, an even more crude construction was this mobile infirmary. Missing even the bare minimums of battlefield first-aid. More horrific than not: black thread, long needle. Thin vial of clear liquid was significantly less than full. Its alcoholic sting, you swore you could smell it from here. The thought of pouring that shit on him made your stomach flip again. 

“If you didn’t come, I was going to have to do it,” they chuckled this time, instead of severity, Hange used a lighthearted approach to comfort you, “but I’m sure he’ll be more receptive to you putting him through pain! It seems you’ve got the magic touch.”

If Levi was awake, oh - a swift ass-beating that would’ve been, but you were much more merciful, happy to share a harmony in crude humor. A moment of blissful ignorance in an ignorant, humorless world. Your smile widened to a grin and you tossed a playful shoo, “Get out of here, you.” 

You had not expected them to take you seriously. Hange smiled contentedly, turned on their heel, and strode even deeper into unexplored forest. A dramatic shift in mood as you swerved from joking to panicking, “Wait - where are - what are - where are you going?” 

Hange shrugged their shoulders, palms turned up to the sky. No slow in their pace, not even a glance back to you as they called, “Can’t save the world on no sleep!” 

As their figure grew tinier, your jaw that had fallen open gradually began to close. Their footsteps faded away, from faint to silent. Whether they eventually flopped from fatigue or continued their stride, you never found out for sure. You saw how exhausted they were, mentally and physically. At the same time, you could only imagine the pressure and responsibility they must have felt. Insomnia or collapse? Likely a coin flip. 

And just like that, the two of you were alone. 

// // //

Survivor’s guilt, you were familiar with. After this long in the Scouts, among those you knew, those who had experienced it outnumbered those who had not. You yourself had lost count of your diagnoses. 

But what the fuck was this? 

He had not died. He wouldn’t die, that’s what Hange said. You had not taken your eyes off him, not for one moment, and his breaths were as recognizable as your own. Undeniably alive, so why were you grieving? 

Perhaps it was regret. Without him there to talk you out of it, you wondered why you shouldn’t feel any and spiraled into its acupuncture. If only you had been at the right place at the right time - there were so many chances to stop it! You could have overheard any conversation about the wine and warned him: stay the hardass captain, the wine’s dangerous! More intelligence about Zeke could’ve shown you how reckless he was, and if you had communicated that to Levi, he would’ve known better than to bring thunder spears anywhere near him. Fuck, even if you had just been there! Maybe you could have thrown yourself between Levi and the explosion. Better me than him.

Your hand snapped to your head and seized a punishing pull of your hair. You knew better than to think such thoughts. Not even for your own sake, but for his: he wouldn’t want you to feel that way!

It was disrespectful to him, and let us respect the wishes of the dead. 

You fucking idiot, he’s not dead! 

Angst of this intensity, at any other time, you would scream, throw things, thrash about. But with your insomniac sound asleep beside you, you would not even allow yourself that release. All you could do was mewl silently, rip grass from the ground, and hug your knees to your pitted chest. 

That lasted a couple hours, and it may have even longer, but the chill hit you like an early winter. Goosebumps had pricked your skin, chattering teeth had become audible. And if you were cold - he must be freezing. 

Selfish. Selfish! You chastised yourself as you stood from your stone turned seat. Seemed like there was some spare wood from whatever Hange’s latest project was, you set it gently atop the fire, cringed when it collapsed with a series of clatters. You winced and checked on Levi. Still sound asleep. The last two logs, you set them on the side closest to him, simultaneously the least and most you could do to keep him warm. 

But was it?

He looked so tiny on the forest floor so vast. So lonely on that slate of tarp. The crickets began to chirp: there’s room for you, too. 

Still, you stood there debating. Weighing internally: better to lay beside him or leave him be? You did not want to wake him, for he appeared to be in a semi-comfortable peace. At the same time, each time he shivered, you felt your veins run cold with responsiblity. Not doing a very good job at the whole caretaking, significant other task. 

Nature made the choice for you. A merciless gust of wind hissed through the trees, breaking branches along the way. Acorns and twigs tumbled to the ground with the gravity of heavy hail. Icy was its howl, providing only seconds of warning before the sharp drop in temperature. Almost immediately, the captain whimpered himself awake and bunched the blanket to his body. Even faster, your sprint to his side. 

Like a survivor to a raft, a plant to spring rain, that was how you clutched him. “Levi…” you soothed, “Levi, it’s me.”

Trying to open his eyes, eye, induced a splitting headache. Thankfully, his hearing had recovered from the piercing explosion and was able to recognize: it was you. Throat scathed dry, Levi failed to summon a response. The apple of his neck twitched in his attempt at a swallow. Water. 

In the pocket of your cape, a full canteen, “Thirsty?”

A subtle nod was all he could muster. Mouth sealed off, streaks of red tainted the white gauze, you supposed it was time. Time to strip off his bandages, to see him again, to learn what had happened. 

Hange had debriefed you. There was no need to ask. His pupil was a lens through which you could see it all. The disbelief still raw, the disappointment in himself, the trauma glazed over. Curiosity screamed within you, longing to know everything from the tiniest details to the major events. Louder, though, was your urge to tend to him - and you knew that an interrogation was not the right remedy. 

There was something more subtle, and perhaps even more telling than words.

“Levi, let me see.”

Hesitation.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

Normally, he would slip in a snide remark. His own take on a joke. Tonight, it wasn’t there. 

But you were right, it was time. He felt disgusting. Gauze glued to his face - blood and sweat - the neat freak squirmed. The cool air of a wilderness night and spring water down his throat sounded most refreshing. 

Refreshing - like the new perspective you would have of him. Levi had not seen himself yet, but based on the immense pain he felt, his face of all places, he knew it couldn’t be pretty. In that way, perhaps it would have been easier if it was Hange. He didn’t care what anyone thought of him, but you were the only exception. You alone could scare him, the fear of how you would react to your lover turned monster. 

Slowly, you reached to your hip and unsheathed your dagger. Trustworthy eye contact silently conveyed that you would cut him free. Levi answered with a slow blink, an attempt at a smile, an attempt that was quickly retracted by his newly irritated nerves. They screamed at him for it, he subdued them by digging his nails - all eight of them - into his palms. With a mere fraction of his face visible, your ever stoic Levi looked even more so. His mouth completely covered, you misread his response. Your first hint towards a long road of recovery ahead, your relationship forever altered.

You crawled behind him and aligned your arm with his spine, “Can you sit up for me?” Like a true combat nurse, you did not wait for an answer before getting to work. Slow but sturdy, you lifted him just enough so that you could get to his nape. Though your care was tender, his reaction was harsh: sharp hisses and exasperated groans. It saddened you, how these strained grunts no longer frightened you - you had heard so much worse from both him and others. 

At the tail of his undercut, you pinched Hange’s knot and lifted the ties from his scalp. An inch of space, you slipped the point of your blade between them. New breeze on his most sensitive spot, knife at the back of his neck, Levi shuddered in your arms. 

“Don’t worry,” you rubbed your palm against his shoulder, “I’ve got you. I won’t hurt you.” I won’t let you get hurt anymore. 

One swift swipe! You slit the gauze, almost like pulling a zipper. Hand on his thigh, you pivoted to his front. Left hand was both hasty and soft, pulling the wrapping from the top of his head all the way past his chin. 

The mask was off. 

With his face now unveiled, you withdrew a handful of inches. A habitual up and down to evaluate his state, just like he trained you. 

The irises that snared you, there was now only one of them. Fresh stitches. Unforgiving black pierced his ivory skin. Crimson blood between the threads. A red so raw, you knew it was never meant to be seen. 

Your throat tightened, the words retched out. “It’s not -” you swallowed, “- that bad…”

A bad liar, you always were. Adorable at other times, gut-wrenching now. You had totally frozen, and all he could do was blink helplessly in wait for you to accept him. In those few seconds, voices in his head made a thousand comparisons. Uglier than a titan. More jarring than a corpse. All the shit you’ve seen, and you’ve never reacted like this. As your eyes glassed over, his reflection became even clearer to himself, confirmed his fears: hideous, he was hideous. 

Even though you stared, you gawked, he could not blame you. In fact, blaming you was his furthest thought, far beyond his first: blaming himself.

“I’m sorry.” Levi whispered. “I’m sorry.”

No. I’m sorry. Again, you ran through all the ways you could have prevented this. If only you had spied better. If only you had been there! He had absolutely nothing to be sorry for.

“I really…” Levi sniffed, his voice raspy, “I screwed up.” A single, silent tear rolled down his cheek. Then another, and another. “...stupid, fucking stupid.”

Seeing him cry always made you do the same. This time, though, your typical techniques left you. This Levi was unrecognizable, not just his physicality, but his personality as well. Even after the bloodiest expeditions, you had never seen such defeat in him before. 

Levi barred his teeth, blood had pooled in his lower lip and leveled with the rim. As tears spilled into open wounds, stinging relentlessly, he did not even flinch, for he felt he deserved it. Not just because he had put himself in that lethal situation, but because he had killed his former self - the only version of him anyone had ever loved - your soulmate.

“Levi…” your fingers ran down his chest, extra delicate this time. Beneath your touch - its insinuation familiar - his heart fluttered, “you deserve to feel good.”

Despite your kindling fire, Levi remained cold at your contact and stayed startlingly still. He couldn’t even meet your eye contact, instead, choosing to stare straight down at your knees, as if needing to absorb and accept that you were actually knelt before him. 

His words wavered, but his voice was a constant low. Hardly audible. Deeply depressed. “You… still want me?” 

Instant, unfathomable heartbreak. Chills, widened eyes, and a ringing in your ears, disbelief at what you had just heard. Against his chest, your fingertips dwindled. Overwhelmed with pity, nevertheless, he still could not bear a glance towards you. 

“Levi,” you cupped his cheek, beckoning his gaze. Tilting your head, a smile both teasing and kindred, “don’t tell me you’ve got amnesia, too?”

He scowled - halfway between too soon and smitten admiration. Only you would dare test him at a time like this. 

“Cause it seems you’re forgetting all we’ve been through already.” 

In each other’s eyes, everything came flooding back. The death of his squad and the months of ensuing grief. The broken leg that held him back from the tower, Eren’s capture, and the rescue mission - the one that costed Erwin’s arm and many more their lives. The return to Shiganshina, even fewer - including the late commander - returned from. Tremendous weights both physical and emotional, you had always been there to shoulder them with him. This was just another one of those spells, and you were a veteran by this point. 

“Prim and proper without any problems… that’s not the you I’m used to.” Curled knuckles tucked stray locks neatly behind his ear. Nails scratched the cusp on the way, summoning shivers from the man beneath you. 

You took his hands in yours. Fingers intertwined, two were notably missing. No matter, you concentrated, determined to hide your adjustment to this new hold. 

“What I am used to, though, is the way you’ll recover - even stronger than before.” You tugged his hand to your lips and spoke gently, confidently against them, “You always have.”

Levi shook his head and grit through clenched teeth, “I don’t know if I’m coming back from this one, sweetheart.”

Indeed, the path forward was hard to see. His body had been torn to true shreds. The Ackerman bloodline was gifted, but they were human. Regeneration of his sight and his grasp were impossible. Humanity’s strongest soldier had been knocked down a permanent rung. 

Suddenly, you feared that the superlative title had done him more harm than good. Love was not something you measured, and his combat abilities meant nothing to you, least of all now. Who said he had to climb that particular ladder? Why must he be a Scout first and person second? Levi had embodied the hope of humanity - and you could not blame the population for placing their faith in him. However, you were not just another member of the population. And to you, Levi was far more than his labels. Foremost, he was alive and he was yours. 

He’s alive! He’s yours!

“For fuck’s sake, Levi…” tears fell, your smile rose, the words tumbled out, “all you have to do is breathe and that’s already enough.” Tenderly, you hooked your fingers over the seam of his blanket and tugged down. Shamelessly, your gaze swallowed him, relishing in his flushed chest and its heightened pulse, “and look at you, you’re already doing that.”

The end of the world, nearly the end of his life, but your tears were what broke him.

It started with a couple shakes of his head. Matted bangs fell over his features, but the shaking of his body and his crackling voice revealed all. Levi pulled his hand from your grasp and clutched his wrinkled forehead. Thumb ground his temple, a coping technique from childhood. A few deep breaths, after then, rattled and shaky: the telltale start to his breakdowns. 

Salted tears poured into his split lip. On instinct, your thumb seeped into his mouth, replacing the burn with your sweet taste. God, how he needed it. 

He needed it. He needed it. A painkiller, but not a pill. Warmth, but not a blanket. To be loved, adored, and made to feel useful, no matter what it was he could do. He could hardly talk, could not even sip water on his own. But there was one thing you knew he could do, one thing that would lift his spirits, if only the length of an endorphin release.

A smile both sweet and seductive, innocent and intimate. “You’re going to make me cum. I’m gonna make you feel good.” One hand on his stiffening lap. One hand on his cheek. “And I’ll show you that you can still do both.”

// // //

It was not the same, and you would not pretend that it was. Not worse, just different. Even better in some ways. 

Inexplicably adorable. Learning to work with his left hand, he would lift his right hand to your buttons only to halt halfway and switch to the other. Pure, flustered concentration as he learned to communicate with his non-dominant hand, the most intimate practice possible. In the glaze of moonlight, his red blush radiated. Internally, he cursed the buttons and belts of the Scout uniform. Externally, he released exasperated sighs and frustrated moans. Undressing you used to take seconds, but after many minutes, your shirt was only halfway undone. Despite his mental irritation, it seemed neither of you truly minded: your arousal stirred with anticipation, his pupils dilated as he savored every second - every inch of your skin. Sex taking longer, who would complain about that? 

Extra weak. Each of his movements was accompanied by shakes, emphasizing the efforts he put into making love to you. Twitches in his reawakening muscles kept his touch active, keeping things exciting. His vice grips of your skin had melted to grazes and dances. His squeezes no longer cut off your circulation, but coerced blood into every capillary. Entirely conscious, desperately yearning for more. You realized: it was not his strength that overcame you, but the craving that faint touch incited. Exerted grunts and curses under his breath were melody to the hum of mosquitoes and crackle of campfire. The most surprising setting to be spicing up your sex life. 

Hyper-sensitive. The strain embedded in every motion had unraveled him quickly. And then there was you. Licking his wounds, tracing your tongue along his scars, you had thrown him off the tightrope balance of pain and pleasure, leaving him to scream in freefall. Teeth grazed his jawline, drawing screeches that felt sinful to listen to, but that didn’t stop you. Lips on his navel drew back-breaking arches of his spine. Acute and uncontrollable rolls of his hips. Touch-starved. Love-deprived. The feeling of unworthiness made every bit of affection that much more treasured. Every touch, a lightning bolt. Each wake, a calm. Mini orgasms wherever, whenever you felt him. 

So conscious of his body, of his injuries, your diligent attention revealed perfections you never noticed before. Tendons in his arms cast contrasting shadows over his skin, they flexed with every sensation he felt and every one he provided. 

You had always assumed it was the color of his eyes that was so magnificent, and indeed it was a lovely shade, but it was his angular brows and straight lashes that highlighted them so beautifully. 

New appreciation for his muscles - not just eye candy, not just strength - but their persistence and importance in keeping him alive. Across his abdomen, seamless symmetry, pair after pair of ridges. Overstimulated sweat covered and complimented every curve, his own spotlight. 

Your goal was to kiss every inch of him, make love to every inch of him. Lips curled to meet his crevices, leaving saliva and praise all throughout your path. “You’re perfect, Levi.” Again, you were crying. Tears dripped to his skin, medicine. “Perfect.”

Having danced with death, Levi was also experiencing a new infatuation with you. After hours of seeing nothing but black, your body was a constellation to explore. He had lost some digits, but two were enough to run his fingers through your hair. Smooth skin invited his hands to savor you, further welcoming with your singing nerves and satisfied sighs. Likewise, after hearing nothing but silence, your whines and whispers moved mountains within him. When he felt so broken, so useless, you managed to lift him up. You tugged him free from his constraints and marveled at his livelihood. Long and admiring was your stare at his erection, forcing him to acknowledge the proof that one thing still worked. 

Labored was his attempt to sit up, to take hold of you, but you placed your palms to his pecs and pushed down, “Levi, it’s okay.” Leaning over, your breast met his chest as your lips fell beside his ear, drawing shudders as you cooed, “I’ll take care of you tonight.”

Mindfully, you reversed the roles: using him as a crutch, signaling his worth and aid to you. By your hold on his shoulders, you sturdied yourself as you lowered your sex down onto his lap. You were ready. Your bodies were ready. Anticipation clearly coated his cock from tip to base. Your folds yearned to be filled, drooling onto your thighs with hunger. 

The back of your hand grazed his forehead, brushing his bangs - slick with sweat - aside. Unbroken eye contact. Unbroken vows: to love each other in sickness and in health. You smiled, he nodded. You inhaled deeply. He exhaled shakily. Lowering yourself down, he pushed himself up as much as he could. Enveloping him. Within you. Together at last. 

In that moment, the separation nearly felt worth it. In the sea of your love, a current of sympathetic sadism. The strife of his injuries had strung him to his last wit, making the second he entered you that much more intense. Levi strained beneath you, immaculate curses fallen past his cracked lips. Bringing Levi to tears and to the brink of bliss, you were certain there was no bigger confidence boost, no greater incentive to fuck him with all you had.

But then, when you did, you realized the true motive: how he made you feel. 

Face scrunched with each rise and fall, fingernails threatened to pierce his skin. Clutching him, you stumbled through your words - breaks between your repetitions. “It - It feels… You feel…” 

Levi swore his heart could have exploded with tension over what you were going to say, that was until you uttered the words that made his heart stop, “so fucking good.”

On his face, relief. Within your walls, elation. “Y-Yeah?” Levi moaned, a combination of clarification and pleasure. “F’Feels… good?”

“Oh yes, baby…” So good, you couldn’t stop. So good, you lost yourself. His passion so lively, so blinding, you nearly forgot about his critical condition. Rolled back eyes snapped open, checking on him. You nearly halted your pace and panicked, “You doing okay?”

Canines bit his lip, but its sting was washed away in your presence, captivating. Squinted eyes, narrowed brows, Levi threw his hand over his mouth and muffled himself, nodding instead.

You smirked, too cute for his own good, that was how you usually reacted. Tonight, though, after all the loathing and depreciation you had both witnessed and felt, your vision was swayed. Lightly but deliberately, you pinched his wrist and lifted it above his head. “No need to hide, darling.” Tongue pried his lips open. “Let me see you. Let me hear you.”

Levi managed just a sliver, but that shred of his silver gaze was enough. “I - I’m f’fine!” He stressed. “I… promise.” 

You lowered one brow in dubious concern, but he insisted breathlessly. “Please…” he whimpered, “Please keep going!” 

Finally, you rolled your head back and sighed, he asked you for something. Something you could provide. Something you could fix for your lover so broken. With this goal in reach, you shared his desire for utility. Sex was survival, evolutionary, feral. The only thing that could make you fuck a patient senseless. The only thing that could make him forget his failures. The only thing that would heal both of you.

Oh, how he needed it. So hard against your soft insides. A length that reached for the stars. Warm passion mortared with yours, inciting smacks and screams that echoed for the voyeuristic pines. 

“P-Please…” Levi begged. Let me cum. Don’t leave me. Stay mine forever. He yearned to say everything, but with your tidaling sensation and his fogged mind, the most he could manage was just the one word. Louder and louder, “Please, (Y/N)...” until his own climax cut him off, “P-Plea - hah’Ahh!!”

Steep and rapid thrusts, you were made speechless - not only by the pleasure they brought within you, but by how impressive they were. So much about him had changed, and he had every reason to be lethargic, but the power he demonstrated had not faded. Your heart sang with admiration, humanity’s strongest for a reason. 

You hummed, unabashedly drinking up the symptoms of his release. Well familiar with his display, your hips knew just how to match the rhythm of his convulsions. Eventually, they slowed. Eventually, he was able to open his eye again. You saw his panic, the embarrassment, having finished first. When his seed hit your furthest depths and you seized around him, though, it was wordlessly communicated: he had no regrets, nothing to be sorry for, for his climax was what brought you to yours. 

Well, wordless in a sense. Your incoherent cries and broken syllables were of no lexicon, but a language he was fluent in. Eight fingers clutched your back, helping you through your last few rhythms, “Come on. Come on, I’ve got you.”

“Fuck!” You reveled. You were the luckiest person in the world. Even before the pillowtalk, in the midst of your orgasm, you could already see: no one else would mute their stinging nerves just to make you feel a bit better, no one else would prioritize your happiness over their own, no one else would share your tears in the same night they shared your bed. In this dying world, there was only one man alive who would love you as you did him. And he was yours.

All yours. 

masterlist

[small-sinclair]

Roadside Angel

Lester x y/n

Tw: reader survives a car wreck, watched someone die, glass, injured reader, blood, character deaths, being referred as property for a moment

Part two | Part 3

When you woke up this morning, you didnlt think you would be in a car wreck on the country road in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. Jace's car flipped three times, and you heard Britney's neck snap, killing her in seconds. You remembered holding on to your seat belt so hard until the car stopped, and your friend's glazed eyes met yours. Jace was going nearly 100 down the road even though you told him to slow down, but he had to impress his now dead girlfriend. You were just along for the trip to the lake, and he graced you with the permission to have you come along. He was going to ask her to marry him, but you guess that love dies within a snap... ha, terrible joke, y/n.

When you came back, your brother and William, who was in the backseat, dragged you out of the car. Black smoke raised above the car as the fire in the front of the car was sandwiched between a pine tree and a large rock. Your brother's face had small glass peeking out of the skin, and William's face was pale from shock and panic. You looked back at the car, seeing Brittney's eyes in the flames, and you saw Martin's head smashed and broken in the backseat. You forgot he was there because he was sleeping. Going out in your sleep was a good gift; that's what your grandfather told you two days before he died in his sleep. Irony is like a skillet cooking an eggs.

"You okay, y/n?" Your brother asked, looked at you up and down. "Oh, shit. You're bleeding!"

"Jace, I see a car!"

"Flag them down, Will!" Your brother took off his green flannel and held in over your arm, careful not to touch the big chunk of glass sticking out of shoulder and upper arm. "You're going to be okay, y/n."

"Jace, what about you?" You asked in a whisper. You didn't realize that you were shaking, your eyes dead and numb. Every time you blink, all you see is Britney's eyes. "You good?"

"Forget me, okay?" He asked as the truck came into view, slowing down. "Keep pressure on your arm. I'll talk to the driver."

You knew you were in shock, that's why you weren't screaming in pain yet, but you knew that it'll come soon. You knew that once it hits you, you won't stop screaming and crying. You remembered that the closest hospital was 30 miles from here, and that's not enough time for you. On the other hand, you were just happy your brother lived. If anything, you were nervous how William was feeling about it all along with how he was going to pin this on you.

The driver got out of his truck in a hurry when he saw you sitting in the grass with blood running down your arm. He was short and looked like he needed two sandwiches. His face was covered in grim and dirt, and he still had the morning's shadow on his cheeks and chin. His faded red work shirt was unbutton and tucked in his pants to show his dirtied and torn white shirt. Around his neck, you thought he was wearing dog tags, but they were small bones once he got closer. His bright brown hair was greasy and curled up to the southern heat under his green hat. He looked worried as he stopped in front of your brother, but you couldn't hear a thing. Your ears started ringing as your eyes clouded and laced over the evening sky. This was the most prettiest sunset you've seen in a long time.

Soon, the stranger was in front of you, snapping his fingers to wake you from your fog. His voice was muffled as your body swayed side to side slightly. You could feel the earth lift up then back down like a roller coaster you once rode at the State Fair when you were a kid.

"...can ya 'ere me?" His voice was so sweet in your ears once you felt yourself grounded again. "Sweetpea? Hey," he snaps his fingers again, "com' back t' me. Don't go too far, 'kay? Com' back." Once he felt your eyes on him, he gave you a smile as sweet as honey, showing his rotten and blacken teeth. His lips were cracked and showed a healing cut. " 'At's it. Good. Hey there, beautiful," he cooed, his eyes looked over your upper body to make sure you weren't bleeding anywhere else. "C'n ya tell me yer name, sugar?"

"You have pretty eyes," you answered instead. His brown eyes were so soft and gentle. He shot you a confused looked, his cheeks a soft pink. "Real pretty eyes."

"Darlin'," he whispered as he looked at your arm. "I need ya to tel'me yer name."

"Y/n," you answered, your head getting dizzy again.

"It's real good t'meetcha," he said with a grin, worried pressed over his eyes. "C'n ya stan', sugar?"

You winced when you shrugged. "Catch... me?"

You felt the weight of the world crushing on you as you leaned to the side, closing your eyes. You expected your head to hit the dirt, but he caught you. His hands were rough but gentle to the touch. The smell of death came from his body, but you cared less. His hands were strong and warm as he lifted you up, cradling you. For someone so small looking, he was strong. When your eyes parted, you were being placed in the truck with your brother's help. William was getting into the back of the truck once the door slammed.

"C'n get ya to Ambrose in ten," the driver promised as he slammed his door. "It'll be bumpy, so hang on t'em." Then his eyes fell on you. He looked so scared as he started the truck and gunned it down the road. "Keep yer eyes open, y/n, yeah?" He asked, turning on a dirt road sharply. "Tel'me yer favorite color. Flower. Anythin'."

Your eyes looked up at your brother, seeing a stream of tears falling down fast. You looked up at the ceiling, seeing different antlers hanging. You wanted to touch one, hold it close, and ask its spirit for its name. Imagine asking that? You are really losing it, aren't you?

"F/c," you answered, your hands now tracing the gator skin on the radio. "It matches my eyes."

"Ya know? 'i a good color," the driver agreed, driving over the dirt road and river rocks. Luckily, it hasn't rained in a couple of days, so the road wasn't washed out. "I lik' green an' yeller."

The way he talked made you giggle. The sunset poked through his hair and trees, making the shadows cast over him, giving him a pair of angel wings. He was your roadside angel at this point. "Bet it looks good... good on you?" You found it harder to stay awake. The pain started kicking in. "What's your name?"

He looked at you then back at your brother. Guess you didn't hear him the first time, huh, y/n? "Lester," he answered. "Lester Sinclair."

"Pretty name," you breathed. The pain in your shoulder finally got to you, but you didn't have the strength to scream or cry. You didn't feel like doing anything besides sleeping. "I'm tired, Jace."

"Stay awake," your brother ordered. "See? We're here!" The truck stopped as soon as he said it. "Stay awake, y/n."

The car door opened on your brother's side as Lester hopped out of the seat, sliding over the hood of the car. William's hand slipped under you roughly, and his hand squeezed hard enough to leave a bruise. Soon, you felt yourself being lifted up in Lester's arms and hurried steps towards a house on a hill.

You heard the house door open as a taller man in a blue worker's jumper stepped out. "The hell's this, Les?" The older man barked. "What the fuck--?"

"They're hurt," Lester said, going up two steps. "Really hurt, Bo!"

"Like I care--"

"You betta care," Lester snapped. He never gets angry with his brothers, but seeing you like this was enough to make his chest ache. What were you doing to him, y/n? What is this? "Y/n needs help." He was careful with your hurt shoulder and arm as he held you closer. "Please, Bo? Get Vincent for help?"

Bo hates it when Lester flashes his puppy eyes. How could he say "no" to that look? Bo looked past Lester towards Jace and William before sighing in defeat. "Fine," he stepped aside. "Pa's office. I'll get Vinny."

Are all southern men this hot? They weren't kidding when they say men grew in southern soil.

Everything was a blur from there.

You were placed on a cold and hard bed? Table? What the hell is this? But you were there as Lester left the room to come back with a big bowl and a first-aid. you felt yourself weave in and out as his voice became muffled again...

When your eyes opened, you were met by a lifeless and blank face looking down at you, raven hair tucked behind his ear, and hands working over your shoulder. You felt numb on your left side. He noticed you were a wake, but he didn't say anything or gave you the motion that he wanted to talk to you. You didn't feel pain as you drifted back to sleep, hearing your brother screaming your name before his dying screamed left. Oddly, you felt safe here...

************

"Don't kill 'em," Lester begged on his knees in front of Bo and Vincent. "Please, don't kill 'em."

In the kitchen, the twins sit in their chairs as they looked down at their brother, scared and shaking. Bo's boots were covered in y/n's brother's blood while Vincent's waxed face was covered in small spatters of William's. Their blue eyes looked at each other then down at Lester.

Bo shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Ya know t'rules."

Lester shook his head huriedly. "But they lived fer a reason!"

"Yeah," Bo nodded towards Vincent, "so he could dump them in wax." He almost laughed but... "It's sad how they gotta go."

"Then why didn't ya use t'whole thin' on 'em, Vince?" He looked up at his brother. "Why not t'whole numbin' thin'?"

Truth to be told, he didn't know why. Maybe it's because he heard you whispering a "thank you" to him after he was done working on you? Was it your sleepy grin?

"Can't keep 'em--"

"But ya keep pretty girls all th' time!" Lester argued back at Bo. "Bet if ya had yer hands on 'em, ya would lock 'em up down stairs!"

Bo's eye twitched. "Watch it."

"Am I wrong?" Lester asked, standing up, opening his arms. "When ya find someone, ya keep 'em and expect us t'be okay wit' it! But when I find someone, it's wrong?"

"Lester, I said..." Bo stopped himself and sighed. His little brother does have a fair point. "Damnit."

"An' ya promised I could hav' th' next one!" Lester added, his voice cracking. "Ya goin' back on it?"

Bo bit his lower lip, settling down his anger. The last thing he wants is that little thing in Pa's office to wake up to this. But why was he worried about that, too? Why was he worried that y/n would wake to this? Was he afrid of killing them? No, Bo Sinclair never gets scared! But... They looked so tired when Lester brought them in. He almost felt sorry for you... almost.

Giving in, Bo rubbed his face. "Fine," he breathed out. "But ya hav' two months wit'em 'fore I kil' 'em."

Vincent cut off Bo, signing, 'Unless you can get them to say 'I love you'.'

Bo shot a look at Vincent and was about to protest, but he looked back at his brother. Big Mistake. His brother's bright brown eyes were filled with hope and happiness. Who was he to kill his brother's joy? It's not fair, he knows this, but Bo didn't want his brothers to get too attached to y/n. If Lester can't get them to love them, then Bo will kill them.

That's a fair trade.

Bo stood up and held up two fingers when he said, "Two months. If y/n doesn't say they love ya," he picked up the hunting knife. "I'll kil' em with 'is, an' ya hav'ta watch." He lifted a brow. "Deal?"

Something inside Lester exploded with happiness and joy. "Deal."

And what a deal it was.

[hrefna-the-raven]

Agent Kane

Masterlist - Misc. masterlist - Horror masterlist

Needles Kane x female reader

Words: 1452

Summary: John, Quiet and you got caught by Stone and now you're waiting for your torture in the interrogation room.

Warnings: cursing

Tags: @larabiatasstuff I've enjoyed reading your stories so much I wanted to give you something back 🥰 thanks for all your hard work in giving us those delicious Sweet Tooth stories ❤️

You woke up with a pounding headache, blinking several times at the harsh light until your vision adjusted. Quietly and John were seated beside you, the three of you chained to the table in front.

"Fuck", you cursed, "Stone's got us."

"Do you think he's gonna kill us?", John asked, trying to wiggle his hands out of the zipties.

"Yeah but don't worry, he's gonna torture us first", Quiet responded, her expression remaining neutral as she spoke, though you could sense her anxiety.

She was afraid, just like you, both of you having your very own face to face experience with agent Stone. Out there, or at least free from these restraints, you would have a fighting chance. But instead, you were bound tightly with a ziptie to the chain on the table. You were trapped somewhere deep within Stone's own little realm, where everyone played by his rules, rule that, you'd all agree on, were quite unfair. Before either of you could form or even voice any thought, the door swung open Stone walked into the room with an unsettling grin on his face. He was accompanied by a tall, burly man. The man had a shaved head and pale skin, his eyes concealed behind aviator sunglasses. You couldn't help but notice his full lips curling into a wicked smile as his attention shifted towards you.

"You haven't promised too much, agent Stone", the man spoke in a sinister yet strangely familiar tone.

"Well then I'll leave you to it, agent Kane", Stone chuckled, "but remember our agreement. You have free rein with her", he gestured towards you, "as long as I get my information from the others along with it."

"Don't you worry, I can be very persuasive."

Whenever this agent Kane spoke it sent shivers down your spine. The tone, the darkness within, it reminded you of something you've heard before, buried deep within the fog at the back of your mind, out of reach for now. The sudden sound of the door slamming shut jolted you back to reality, and your eyes wandered over the agent. You immediately recognised the tight grey and black uniform, clinging uncomfortably to his broad chest. You sighed at the sight of the Blackfield Asylum logo on it, just above a small black nameplate bearing the faded white letters "M. Kane". It felt like the universe was taunting you, trapped in here and to be tortured by a man who shared the same last name as the crazy clown you were slowly falling in love with.

He slammed a duffle bag onto the table, unzipping it slowly and you were sure that he was observing you, with his face directed towards you but his eyes hidden behind the reflection of the sunglasses. If you hadn't been trapped within the enemy's territory, chained to a table, you would have loved his toothy wicked grin. Like a predator stalking his prey, carefully examining every little detail. Slowly he took out a selfmade machete and a clown's mask, putting both items on the table as he leaned closer, chluckling dangerously. The room fell silent, John and Quiet gasping in unison as their gazes fixated on you. You felt Quiet's leg gently brushing against yours, a desperate attempt to comfort you at the sight your favourite clown's most cherished possessions laid out before you. In the few months you got to know Sweet Tooth, you realised what this situation implied, causing tears to form in the corners of your eyes. He was inseparable from his machete, and even more so from his mask, it defined who he had become after killing Billy and rotting away within the asylum.

"What did you do to him!", you screamed, the tears now streaming down your cheeks.

His grin faltered for a brief moment, lips parting but he didn't speak a single word, instead he finally removed his glasses, revealing his dark brown eyes that bore into you with such intensity that you immediately fell silent. You his gaze, initially with defiance and determination to resist breaking down, prepared to endure whatever he would subject you to, all while plotting your escape and planning to kill him. But then, within his eyes, you detected a tenderness and affection tightly clinging together in a sea of madness, wild and unpredictable. Your gaze shifted downwards, tracing the straight bridge of his nose until it reached the small scar on his upper lip. In that moment, realization dawned upon you, and you leaned back in your chair with a triumphant grin as relief washed over you.

"Well Agent Kane", purred seductively, letting the name roll off your tongue, "I'm very eager to see what you have planned for me. But since it's such a rare occurrence for us to find ourselves in this intimately private situation, without anything between us, I have a little something in mind that I believe you'll enjoy, Agent. But, you know...", you shifted your tied hands up as far as possible while sighing sadly.

He chuckled darkly, grabbed the machete and smacked it down between your hands. You felt the sharp metal graze your skin, its sharpness teasingly close, yet not piercing it, and a small moan escaped your lips as you felt the tension of the zipties vanish. Biting your lower lip, your eyes never wavered from his gaze as you lunged towards him, snatching the mask from the table and your mouth clashed on his in a passionate kiss while your arms wrapped around his neck. You pushed your tongue past his lips, deepening the kiss. Although his sloppy kisses lacked finesse, he compensated by pouring all his love for you into that single kiss. As you parted, panting, you placed the mask on his face and smiled at him, pecking the painted nose on the mask before climbing off the table. The sight that greeted you as you turned around made you burst into laughter. John was stuck in a weird half standing slightly turned position, desperately trying to pull the machete closer with his foot while Quiet observed him with a combination of adoration and her usual disapproval etched on her face.

"John", she called, but he was too engrossed in his efforts to free himself, "John!"

She kicked his leg and he cried out in pain before finally looking at her and she nodded towards the other side of the table. His gaze slowly shifted towards me and then to the agent who wore now a clown's mask.

"Is this? How the? Did we just? Are you? Nooooo...I mean....how the....since when do you have a face?", John stammered, glancing between the three of you in confusion.

Sweet Tooth sighed, rolling his eyes as he took his machete and cut through the zipties, freeing the other two. Confusion was still painted all over John's face while he rubbed his sore wrists. In the meantime, Quiet rummaged through the duffle bag, extracting a shotgun and a revolver, her face lighting up with childlike glee. She handed John another revolver from the bag and playfully tossed an axe adorned with a painted-on smiley face in your direction. You caught your beloved weapon, pressing a tender kiss against its cold metal surface.

"Mmh you even brought Smiles", you hummed happily, "he's gonna love meeting new people, face to face."

"Of course", Sweet Tooth replied with a hint of amusement.

"Where's Harold?", you asked.

"Keeping the truck ready and waiting for us", he chuckled.

Just as John attempted to squeeze past the clown and make his way towards the door, Sweet Tooth firmly grasped the collar of his t-shirt, pulling him closer.

"If anyone ever hears about this, you won't have a tongue left to speak of it", he whispered menacingly in his ear before laughing and giving him a playful slap on the back, "now go and don't get killed."

Quiet tapped Sweet Tooth's shoulder, nodding respectfully.

"You went all out for her, and I respect that, but I still think you're insane."

"Sweets", your voice barely above a whisper, "thanks."

"Nah", he shrugged it off, "it's nothing. They're all about to die anyway so no worries."

The sinister laughter that escaped his lips sounded so different than the persona he took on while entering them room as agent. You wondered whether it was all just an act or if there was still a trace of Marcus buried deep within.

"By the way, I loved your performance."

"No lying", he warned.

"Honest truth", you crossed your heart, "almost had me fooled back there."

Sweet Tooth chuckled and headed out while the rest of you trailed behind, prepared to eliminate anyone in your path and burn this place to the ground.

[all-about-kyu]

Pairing: angel!Jeno x gn demon!reader

Genre: smut, forbidden love au

Rating: R 18+

Warnings: language, religious themes

Smut Warnings: sub!Jeno, corruption kink, teasing, handjob

Word Count: 536

requested by; @raibebe <3

for The Cafe request event

Summary: You know you’re everything he shouldn’t want, he does too. That doesn’t stop you though.

“Was it worth it little angel?” you ask with a faux saccharine tone.

Having Jeno beneath you was always a sight to behold. The way he fell apart from any touch you laid on his skin, the way he absolutely crumbled when you spoke, it was some sort of euphoria for you. At the current moment, you have him pinned down against your bed. His face contorted in pleasure as you slowly stroked his cock. Small moans escape his lips each time you move the slightest bit faster. His halo was slightly crooked above his head, still glowing bright pale gold color. His wings are bright white, another stark contrast to where you live—each time his body jerks in pleasure his wings do as well. He lets out a loud whine when you altogether remove your hands from his body.

“I asked you a question. Answer it.” you deadpan.

“W-was what worth it?” he pants.

“Sneaking out of the kingdom of the lord just to sneak down here to the pits of hell. What would your almighty god think if he saw one of his precious angels in such a lustful state? That’s one of the deadly sins isn’t it, angel?”

“Yeah, but-”

“But what? You don’t care?” you tsk, “Remember when we first met? You were so innocent and pure, just like you should be, when we met.” your hand slowly finding its way to his member as you speak, “Isn’t it ironic, angel? So bored of the kingdom of heaven that you stoop down to my level. A demon.”

Your words are mostly teasing but there’s an edge of truth to it. You had met Jeno years ago, he was on a mission to kill you actually, God had had enough of your behavior. Yet here you are years later and you had corrupted one of his most loyal angels. He was lying to the king while committing these carnal sins. You contrasted everything an angel should want. Your large black feathered wings, horns growing from your head, sinful nature. Everything you are contrasts the holiness that angels strive for. You couldn’t for the life of you figure out why God was keeping Jeno, he had every reason to banish him down here with you, or worse. Maybe he’s just cruel and wants to keep you both apart regardless of how debauched the angel has become.

“I don’t care if I’m a disobedient angel, I don’t fucking care. I just want to be with you.” he bursts, gasping at how you stroke him.

“My, such dirty words from such a holy being, maybe you’re just as fucking filthy as me. Don’t worry, angel, I want the same.” you smirk, using your free hand to run over the feathers of his wings, “Maybe I’ve corrupted you more than I realized, hm, pretty boy?.”

You lean down and kiss his lips softly, he quickly reciprocates it. His hands scramble to touch you anywhere he could reach. The first place just happened to be your shoulders, his knuckles gently brushing against the feathers of your inky wings as he gripped your skin.

“We have so much more to do, little angel, don’t go desperate on me yet.”

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[chaseadrian]

white sheets, bloodied shirt pt. 2

Several years after your falling out with Bruce, a chance encounter gives you two the opportunity to work through lingering anger and unresolved feelings. PART ONE.

pairing: bruce wayne (2022) x f!reader tags: 18+ ONLY, explicit, time jump, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, confessions, thigh riding, super emotional sex word count: 6.8k+ a/n: FUCK i got so carried away with this. hope yall like. also ralph is okay. you’ll get that soon. 

It had been five years since you looked at Bruce Wayne with any sense of fondness.

You wished you could say you had gone that time without seeing him at all, but as a staple of the city, he was an overwhelming presence in your everyday life. The news channels and paper stands were splashed with his ventures, be it the man himself or his menacing alter ego.

In the time since he’d kicked you out of the manor, you’d worked your way up as a photojournalist, documenting the criminal scene in Gotham and making the city a safer place in your own way. It wasn’t the rough and tough method that Bruce adhered to, but in five years you’d exposed three crime rings running in the city, and you felt like you’d made something of a difference. A few awards and several failed abductions later, you sometimes caught your own name splashed across the front page of the Gotham Globe.

It was after hours at the Globe, the building empty save for you and the occupants of your boss’ fish tank. The lamp on your desk flickered a pale yellow light, illuminating the photographs splayed over your desk. Photos from the latest gang murder; EMTs rolling out a covered gurney, a crying woman with matted hair and a torn robe, splatters of blood across a hotel lobby. It hadn’t been pretty, and you’d gotten an abrupt dismissal from the cops on the scene, all pointing fingers and threats of obstruction. Didn’t matter, you’d already gotten what you needed. Your partner was already at home typing up an article, but here you sat, trying to connect the dots to the last attempted murder.

Batman had thwarted that one, and the intended target—the superintendent for the Gotham City School District—was more than happy to spend his time retelling the heroic tale to every news source that asked. And paid.

Nevermind that the schools were radically underfunded and more children wound up in prisons than with diplomas.

That was the one thing you’d not quite remedied in your mind. Everyone knew there was corruption in the city, it was quite literally blown open years ago when the Riddler was running around. But this job wasn’t about exposing corruption, it was about drawing eyes and making money. The terrible things you had exposed, well, those were black and white criminal cases and only published at the behest of your boss. You knew crime was more than a vein running through the city, it was a vital artery, pumping the ignoble figureheads with unimaginable wealth, and the powerful showrunners with impenetrable immunity.

You wanted to slice Gotham open and rip the blight out at its source. Maybe one day you would.

But, for now, you were focused on the photos in front of you.

The light from the elevator drew your attention, an accompanying ding! as the doors opened. You turned off the lamp, raising your head just over your cubicle to see who was coming in this late.

Nobody.

The empty elevator raised every red flag in your body, and you ducked back behind the wall, slowly gathering the photos in front of you into a stack to put in your bag. There was a dull thud as the elevator doors closed again, and you stayed in your chair for several moments, listening for any stray sound your ears could catch. It was silent in the dark room, dimly illuminated by the surrounding high rises and full moon.

You slowly stepped out of your cubicle, taking in the space around you. The floor was empty as far as you could see, and you rushed to the elevator, hand shoved in your bag and fingers curled around your taser.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to kill you. You’d be damned if it was the first time they succeeded.

Jamming your finger into the ‘close doors’ button, you bounced on your heels on the ride down to the lobby, bright, warm lights and security guard by the desk stilling your nerves.

“Night, Ralph!” You raised your voice as you hurried past him.

“Hey, now, you know the drill!” Ralph called after you, a smile in his voice. He’d been working in this building longer than you’d been alive, a welcome face at the Globe when someone deserved it and a swift escort out when they didn’t.

You froze in your tracks, groaning and walking over to the desk with your key card in hand. Everyone who worked past a certain hour was required to sign out at the front desk. Extra security after one of the journalists had gone missing and was found dead in the twelfth floor supply closet. Everyone swore they saw him leave the building on the night of his disappearance, and so the policy was established to avoid any more…mishaps.

“Sorry, I’m just—”

A gunshot. Blood splatter. Ralph tipped forward onto the desk before falling to the floor. You didn’t see where he was hit, but your face and hands were now coated with his blood.

“Hi, Miss.”

You looked towards the sitting area next to the security desk, a man you hadn’t noticed before was standing up from his chair, brandishing a silver gun. Unmasked and wearing a black button up with gold cufflinks, his demeanor was relaxed as he stepped towards you. Backing up, you only made it a couple steps until you bumped into another man.

He shook his head, masked face concealing all but his squinting eyes. Before you could move away from him, he brought a hand up to your throat and grabbed you at the base of your jaw, not enough to constrict air flow but enough to be an uncomfortable threat.

You started to reach once again into your bag for the taser, but the man with the gun was close now and jammed it hard into your wrist. You exclaimed and pulled your hand close to your chest.

“Good.”

He tapped the gun against your forehead, flicking a strand of your hair out of the way. You strained against the hand on your throat, the pressure on the sides of your neck slowly growing tighter.

The man with the gun wagged his finger, “Let’s not make her too uncomfortable, now.”

He let you go, and you took a couple steps backward, “What do you want?” You spat, wrist still throbbing from the hit, mind racing as you thought of ways to get out of this unscathed.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of our boss. Black Mask?” The two men flanked you, the masked one training a hand on his gun.

“No. Never heard of him.” You looked between them, jaw clenching, feet planted firm on the ground.

“No?” The unmasked man walked towards you and ripped your bag off your shoulder, dumping out its contents. The photos fluttered out onto the floor, “You want to rethink your answer?”

“No, I don’t.” You squinted, “I just take the fucking photos, I don’t know who’s involved beyond that.”

“Your previous work tells a different story. Two honors from the Gotham Press Association, several commendations from Mayor Reál, even a nomination for the Pulitzer. And not to mention the countless thugs and lowlifes you got thrown into Blackgate. Really making a difference out there.”

“That doesn’t mean I know your boss.”

He leaned down to grab one of the photos, “And we’re here to make sure you won’t. Kind of a shame,” He let the photo fall from his hands, turning around as the other man stepped towards you, “You’re quite talented.”

You felt your heart start to race faster, eyes fixed on the masked man as he started to raise his gun. Panic took over as you screwed your eyes shut and ducked down, the gun going off somewhere over your head, the sound of something clattering to the floor and then you were being pushed over, ankle twisting as you fell.

Opening your eyes, you scrambled away from the body beside you. The masked man lay folded on the ground, eyelids fluttering and breathing shallow.

The black flutter of a cape in front of you drew your eyes up to the costumed figure standing a few feet away from you.

Bruce.

He’d turned to the unmasked man, strolling towards him, unphased by the litany of bullets that were hitting his chestplate. He rushed towards the man, who attempted to jam his gun against Bruce’s chin.

Bruce ducked, fist connecting with the man’s stomach, elbow stabbing into his lower back as he doubled over, the wind knocked out of his chest.

He fell to the floor, but spun over onto his back and twisted his ankles around Bruce’s. The attempt to get him off balance was a weak counter to Bruce’s bulk, and he lifted a boot, bringing it down hard on the man’s ankle. The audible snap was followed by a thick scream, and you winced, scooting even further away until your back was to the desk.

It was then that you remembered Ralph, and you crawled around the desk to see him bleeding out on the floor. His pulse was weak, but it was there. The bullet had gone through the right side of his torso, blood soaking his shirt as you rifled through the first aid kit under the desk, pulling out a roll of gauze.

“Fuck, I’m sorry Ralph. If you can hear me, this is going to hurt.” You packed the wound with as much gauze as you could, and pressed down hard with one hand, reaching for Ralph's walkie-talkie with the other.

You switched to the emergency channel, “Calling all units. 10-71 at Gotham Global. We have one injured. I repeat, 10-71 at Gotham Global, suspects are down.”

There was a brief static before a voice came through, “Copy. Units en route.”

You tossed down the walkie and applied more pressure to the wound, feeling for a pulse every few seconds. It was still as weak, but remained steady.

You didn’t even register the lack of fighting from the other side of the desk. Not until Bruce was next to you on one knee.

“We need to go.”

“No.” You snapped, “I’m not leaving Ralph like this.”

The faint sound of sirens eased your nerves, but Bruce whipped his head towards the sound.

“He’s going to be okay. Come with me now.” He growled, reaching forward to grab your wrist, forcing you up with him.

You winced at the weight on your ankle, stumbling forward.

Bruce instinctively raised his other hand to catch you, but you’d already regained your balance, shifting your weight onto one foot. You looked down at Ralph, red and blue lights were starting to illuminate the room.

Letting go of your wrist, Bruce hovered his hand over your elbow, “Please.”

“If anything happens to Ralph, it’s your fault.”

Before you could even try to take a step, Bruce had picked you up, one hand under your knees, the other around your shoulders.

You looked up at him while he carried you out of the building, lips screwed into a frown. There was a faint scar on the side of his jaw, and a small cut on his lip.

They reminded you of all he’d accomplished in the five years since you were together. Bruce Wayne had slowly stepped back into the public eye, reviving the Wayne Foundation and transforming the reclusive reputation he’d developed after years of being something of a hermit. And Batman, well, his relationship with the Gotham PD had only grown more fickle. He put away more real criminals than the entire force combined, and nobody could decide whether to call him a superhero or a vigilante.

The cold wind raised goosebumps on your arms and sent shivers down your spine. You shuddered in Bruce’s arms, and he held you tighter.

“We’re almost to the car.”

“What car? Your car? No. Take me to my car I can get home just fine on my—fuck!”

Bruce looked down at you, stopping in his tracks.

“My fucking keys! They’re in my bag. We have to go back.”

He started walking again, “No.”

You wriggled in his arms, forcing him to set you down, “What do you mean ‘no?’ I need my bag. My phone, wallet, keys?”

Bruce extended an arm for you to hold as you stood, but you kept all your weight on your uninjured leg, crossing your arms and wincing at the dull pain radiating from your wrist.

“I have a contact at the police department. They’ll bring you your stuff.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Fine.”

He moved to carry you again, but you pushed him back by his chest.

“Just give me your arm.”

He obliged, and you wrapped your arm under his, gingerly tip toeing forward on your injured side. There was a slight pain, but you could limp well enough and you were done being carried by him.

The car wasn’t too much farther, tucked in front of a walled in trash compactor, there was just enough space for the dark vehicle to sit in wait.

You held onto the top of the car while Bruce opened the door, holding your hand as you slid into the seat, eyes darting around the fancy mechanisms and glowing buttons. Your mind flashed back to the last time you were near this vehicle, crouched out of sight only moments away from a pivotal landmark in your adult life.

A pit welled in your stomach, and you pressed your foot hard onto the floor of the car to distract yourself from the thought. Pain shot through your body and Bruce whipped his head to look at you as you cried out, shutting the door to cut off sound from the silent night.

“What did you do?” He asked, worry inflected in his grim voice.

You hissed at the subsiding pain, “I just—I wanted to see how bad it was.”

“Don’t put pressure on it.” He snapped, the ignition roaring to a start as he fixed his hand on the gear shift.

Letting your head fall against the window, you stared out at the city swiping by, yellow street lamps passing by in a blur, illegible graffiti on the crumbling brick walls, the black sky filled with invisible stars.

“Wait,” You turned to look at Bruce, “Where are you taking me?”

“Home.”

You straightened yourself in the seat, “The manor? No. I’m not go—”

“Your home.”

“How do you know where I live?”

He adjusted his hands on the steering wheel and gripped tighter, not saying a word more.

You scoffed and slumped back down, zoning out through the window once more.

—

Your apartment was on the outskirts of downtown Gotham, a modest one bedroom in an unassuming building. It wasn’t flashy, but then, neither were you.

Bruce parked the vehicle around back by the dumpsters, helping you to the front door.

“Are you forgetting I don’t have my apartment keys?” You punched a code into the front door’s keypad.

“Are any of your windows unlocked?”

“Yeah,” You sighed, “The—the one in my room by the fire escape is unlocked in case of emergencies.”

“Okay. Can you make it up to your apartment by yourself?”

You leaned against the doorway, holding it open with your knee, “I guess.”

Bruce nodded, grunting an approval and walked back around the building.

Favoring your leg, you walked along the wall to the elevator, limping into the space. The pain from walking was significantly more noticeable after you’d jammed your foot against the floor of the car, but you managed your way to the apartment unscathed.

The door was unlocked, and you walked in to see Bruce standing still in the living room.

“Hey, Batboy, some help?” You stood in the open doorway, waiting as he walked over to you and took your hand, guiding you to the couch.

He lifted your leg onto the coffee table, grabbing one of the throw pillows to rest it on.

“Do you have ice packs?” He asked, walking over to your kitchen.

“I have sandwich bags and an ice maker.”

Bruce came back with two packed plastic bags, placing one on your ankle, “Give me your hand.” He sat down on the couch, extending his hand towards you.

You held out your arm, resting your wrist palm up in his open hand as he placed the bag atop your skin.

The two of you sat in silence as the ice slowly melted, heavy darkness blanketing the room. The moonlight from the window cascaded over Bruce, highlighting the edge of his figure.

“If you’re gonna be on my couch with all that shit on can you at least take off that stupid mask?” You crossed your free arm over your chest, bunching up the fabric of your shirt into a fist.

“No.” He grumbled, shifting the ice on your skin.

“Bruce.” Your voice was indignant, and you turned to face him, nostrils flaring. You’d seen Bruce in his barest moments, felt his skin against yours, known all the walls he put up to keep himself safe. They were the walls that also ended up locking you out of his life, and right now, after almost losing yours? You didn’t have the patience to deal with his emotional inhibition.

He sighed, but took off the mask. The black makeup under his eyes was smeared and he was hesitant to look back at you once the mask was off.

“Thank you.” You faced forward once again, letting your head fall back against the couch.

Several more tense moments passed, Bruce’s hand heavy on your wrist as he held the bag in place, ice cubes melting faster with the heat of his hand over them.

“So, are you ever going to apologize?” You broke the silence, turning to Bruce and trying to make out his features in the darkness. It was easy to be angry when you couldn’t see all the microexpressions on his face, couldn’t see the obvious hurt in his eyes. You had every right to be furious with him for the way things ended, and he knew it, but he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and wasn’t as good at hiding it as he liked to pretend. It tugged at your heartstrings no matter how much you tried to steel yourself against him.

“I—” He set your wrist down on the couch, balancing the bag before standing up, “I should go.”

“Really?” You pulled your wrist onto your lap and took your foot off the coffee table, straightening up on the couch, “You’d rather leave than admit you were a prick five years ago?”

He reached for his mask on the couch, but you placed your hand on top of it and he stopped just short.

“You need to rest.”

“I need you to grow up.” You spat, using a hand to push yourself up so you were more evenly matched. Bruce was still taller than you, but it felt like better leverage than craning your neck up from the couch.

“Your ankle is going to swell. You’ll have to go to the hospital.” Bruce was unflinching, his eyes flicking between your ankle and your face.

“Then I’ll go, because I can admit when I need something.” You hopped a few steps towards him, and his hands flinched towards you. “Can you, Bruce?”

He grumbled, shifting in place, “I’m sorry for kicking you out of the manor.”

You scoffed, cocking your head, “For kicking me out of the manor?! That’s putting it lightly. We knew each other for well over a year, Bruce, and you spent eight of those months asking me over multiple times a week. I don’t think I have to remind you what for. And I was fine with the arrangement. I was fine with the way you could barely touch me afterward. I understood your issues with intimacy and affection, I think I was more than patient.

But to look at me in that moment and have nothing more to say than ‘get out?’ After all that time?” You paused, letting out a shuddering breath, “I—I loved you, Bruce, and maybe that’s hard to hear but it’s how I felt. I loved you and I was stupid to let you get away with this apathetic facade for so long. I won’t put up with it now.”

You winced at the growing pain in your ankle, it was slowly rising despite you keeping all weight on your good foot. You sat back down onto the couch, elevating the ankle once again. Bruce’s helmet sat several inches from you, and you leaned over to grab it, handing it up to him without looking.

He took it and set it on the coffee table, straightening his posture as he stood in front of you, “You were missed around the manor. Dory talked about you a lot.”

You frowned, “Well, I couldn’t exactly tell her what happened, could I?”

Dory was the only family you’d had in the city, and, after what happened with Bruce, you’d made up some excuse about your boss thinking it was a conflict of interest for you to be going to the manor of one of Gotham’s biggest benefactors. She tried to make her way to your place when she could, but, between Bruce’s developing social life and the increasing danger of your job, the visits became few and far between.

Bruce cleared his throat, unmoving in his stature. You couldn’t look at him, that pit in your stomach was already reforming the longer he was here.

“How did you even know those men would be there tonight? Am I supposed to believe it’s just happenstance that after five years, you just show up out of the blue? I’ve been in precarious situations like that before, you know.”

“You got out of them every time.”

The words clicked in your brain, and the entire night made sense. He’d shown up at the last possible second to save your hide, knew where you lived, and even navigated your apartment with apparent ease. It wasn’t a huge place, sure, but even you still found yourself taking the corners too close sometimes.

“So you’ve just happened to be around when I’m in these dangerous situations?”

“We run in the same circles.” His jaw clenched, and he blinked slowly.

“No, we don’t. And that aside, how’d you know where I lived, huh?”

“Dory’s been here. I pay atten—”

“Cut the bullshit, Bruce. If you’re going to do your caped crusader shit, at least own up to all of it. Am I supposed to think it’s romantic that you’ve kept tabs on me for five years?”

“I was looking out for you.” The timbre of his voice grew coarser, lined with anger.

“I don’t need you to look out for me! You lost every right to my life when you told me to get out of yours.” You flailed your hands, letting them fall back down, hands slapping against the fabric of the couch. “I couldn’t even get through a week without seeing your face plastered somewhere in the city. Do you know how hard it was to get over you when all anyone wanted to talk about was Bruce fucking Wayne or the damn Batman?” Your voice was shaking, and you balled your fist to try and hang on to the last threads of self-control before you burst into tears.

“Yes, I—”

“No you don’t! Because you didn’t get over shit! You kept me in your life against my will while I went on thinking you didn’t want to be a part of mine. That is fucked, Bruce.”

“I’m sorry, okay?! I’m sorry.” He snapped, turning his body away from you, glancing your way as he composed himself. “This is a dangerous city. I care about you.”

That was the nail in the coffin. You froze in place, fists relaxing as the first swell of tears slid down your face.

Bruce turned back to you, taking a few steps forward before he kneeled in front of you, degloving as he put a hand on your shoulder.

You kept your gaze on the floor, scrubbing the tears away with your palm to no avail. Even more followed, blurring your vision. The sobs that broke from your lips were tragic and pitiful, undercutting your words as you tried to stay angry, “Wh—why couldn’t you sa—ay that f—five years ago? I l—loved you, and y—ou just c—cut me out.”

Bruce moved his hand to your hair, stroking the knotted strands over and over, his other hand resting on your knee, thumb running back and forth over your jeans. He lowered his voice to a whisper, all hints of anger gone in an instant, “I’m sorry. I thought…I was doing the right thing. Keeping you safe. Thought I was…” He shook his head, “...saving you from getting hurt.”

You scoffed, an incredulous smile on your lips for a brief moment, tears spilling from your eyes as you rolled them, “Well, you d—didn’t.”

Looking up at him, it was the first time tonight that you’d been able to look into his eyes and see his entire face. The darkness couldn’t obscure anything when you were this close. They were glossy, black makeup smeared around his eyes, and a frown planted firmly on his lips. There were more wrinkles around his eyes than you remembered, and an even deeper exhaustion was set in his features.

“I know.”

The moment stilled when his eyes met yours, the hand in your hair pausing, it seemed like the entire world went quiet. The air in the room was thick, like the dense pressure in your chest after diving too deep underwater, lungs burning as you tried to make your way back to the surface.

Bruce’s eyes glimpsed your lips before looking back up at you.

You lowered your voice to less than a whisper, syllables cutting in and out as you spoke, “Don’t kiss me right now if it doesn’t mean something to you.”

He kept his eyes on yours, and brought the hand in your hair down to your face, running his calloused finger along the curve of your cheekbone. His thumb rested on the crest of your cheek, full palm against your skin as his fingers slid into your hair.

“It’s always meant something.”

You stayed in place as he pressed his lips against yours, skin brushing together before he went for a full kiss, and although you resisted the urge to lean into his touch, you were done resisting him.

For five years, you conditioned yourself to despise him. Turned the hurt you felt into a dense ball of anger that pounded in your chest every time you saw his picture or heard his name. You hated him almost as much as the people who were trying on a regular basis to kill him, seemingly impervious to the aberrant charm that everyone else fell for.

But a ruse is still a ruse no matter how convincing. You didn’t know why he’d been so permanently etched into your brain, why your sparse attempts at a relationship with other people had only lasted a few months at a time, why you found yourself looking in dark corners and alleyways past a certain hour in the city.

You’d told him you loved him. Loved. But was it really in the past? Was this moment here not a siege against the towering walls you’d put up? Were you not leaning further into him as his lips slid against yours?

You pulled away, and saw his eyes were still glistening with the threat of tears. There was almost a smile on his lips, and he tried his hardest to wipe it away.

“You’re not forgiven that easily.” You whispered, “But it’s a start.”

Inching closer to him, you gasped when he darted once more to your lips, still as gentle, but a touch more eager now. His thumb grazed against your skin, rough skin scraping over your cheek, grounding you to the moment.

“Bruce,” You muttered in between kisses, and he pulled back, staring, “Take that ridiculous outfit off.”

It was the first time you’d smiled since the start of this entire ordeal, and you were surprised to see him lower his head, a bashful smile flicking across his lips. He stood up from where he’d been kneeling, and you shifted, lifting your foot up on the chaise end of the couch, back against the cushion.

You watched as he shucked off the heavy armor, piece by piece, setting them on the floor until he was standing before you in a black compression shirt and boxer briefs.

He moved tentatively towards you, sitting at the end of the chaise. He slid up your jeans to examine your ankle, a hand under your calf, the other on the ball of your foot, moving it with slow, circular motions.

“Does this hurt?”

You winced at first, “Not as much as it did.”

“I didn’t detect any broken bones. It’s probably a bad sprain.” He set your leg back down, looking your way.

“Okay. That’s good.”

He slid down the chaise, hand grazing the side of your body as he made his way back beside you. The touch sent shivers along your skin, and you crossed your arms over your chest, maintaining your breathing as Bruce came closer until he was next to you, torso twisted to face you.

Leaning in for another kiss, he paused to brush his knuckles over your lips, “I missed everything about you.”

You gulped, grinding your teeth together to keep yourself from crying again. The pain that lived in his eyes carried you now. You were another piece of that weight on his shoulders, and despite the anger you felt—still eroding your bones with deep welts and boiling blood—right now, you wanted nothing more than to ease his hurt. Wanted to reassure him that you were still here, still okay, still his.

You would never speak the words out loud, so you told him with your lips. Told him with your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he pressed deeper into you, one of his arms anchored over your body, fist digging deeper into the couch the more his torso covered you. He was falling heavier into the moment, lips washing over yours with a slow desperation that told you he was trying his best to hold back, to not dive farther than you wanted, to keep himself where he belonged—dwelling tenuously at the beginning of rectification.

Shifting your body, you pushed him back from you and started unbuttoning your jeans, slow to slide them down your body. He moved to your ankle, lifting up each leg and carefully pulling the bottoms down around your feet until they were off.

You kneeled over to him, stradling one of his thighs and pushing his legs apart so you could keep your legs on the couch, taking the weight off your ankle.

Bruce wrapped his arms around your body, hands planted firmly against your shoulder blades. He stared in wait, watching as you closed your eyes and started to grind against his thigh.

Pressure welled between your legs, and you situated your arms on either side of Bruce’s head, grabbing at the cushion behind him, letting your head fall until you heard a quiet groan escape his lips. You looked up at him, felt his fingers shift on your back, and lifted your arms up so he could take off your shirt.

He slid his hands under the hem, his grip coating your sides with goosebumps as he made his way up your arms, bringing the t-shirt with him until it was over your head and you were there, on his lap, in just your underwear. His chest stuttered, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed hard at the sight of you.

You continued rocking your hips on his thigh, your cunt soaking more with every second you ground against him, his hands on your body a hot branding iron as they smoothed around your skin. Closing your eyes, you threw your head back, letting out several staggered moans as the sensation built in your body. Your stomach twisted, and you plugged a hand into Bruce’s hair, gripping tight to the dark strands and pulling his head back to expose his neck. You brought your lips down to the damp skin, teeth nipping at the coarse lines of his throat, little freckles of dark purple spattering the smooth surface.

The feeling in your cunt grew deeper, driving you to rock faster until you were coming on his thigh, the warm wash of your orgasm seeping into your underwear and leaving a spot on his leg. You kissed him through the broken moans, and he held you to his chest, your free hand grabbing at the hem of his shirt, bunching the spandex into your fist.

When you pulled away, he yanked the shirt off from the back of his neck, throwing it onto the pile with the rest of his armor.

“Take me to my room.” You slid your hand down his torso, gliding your fingers along the fresh cuts and healed scars.

He put his hands underneath your thighs, standing up with you in his arms, eyes locked onto your face as you glanced around his body. He carried you with the same ease as always, your arms loose around his neck, hands clasped behind him.

Bruce set you down on the soft bed, and you pulled him down to your lips once again, inviting him onto the bed where he hovered over you, hips grazing together. You could feel his erection as he lowered himself further, letting his stomach press into yours, fists on either side of your head still holding him up, keeping him from crushing you altogether.

Ignoring his hesitance, you moved your hands down to his lower back, pressing him into you, your hips bucking up against him. You broke the kiss, whispering against his lips, “Bruce, do you want me?”

He pulled back, distancing himself so he could look into your eyes, one of his hands moving to hold your face.

He nodded and closed his eyes, letting out a quivering breath before he spoke.

“Yes. Always.”

Your heart welled, and you felt his sincerity in the way he kissed you now, lips trembling once more, his body slowly engulfing yours.

You slid your fingers under the hem of his underwear, and he pulled away from you to slide them off, darting back to your lips the moment they were on the floor. He kissed along your body, between your chest, unhooking the bra and gently taking it off, his mouth connecting with your tits, soft and slow, tongue circling the raised nipples one after the other. He continued down your stomach, lips grazing the skin as you arched your back, mouth unmoving when he slid your underwear down your legs, one hand running back up your thigh, middle finger just skating over your cunt, slick with arousal, leaving you desperate for his touch.

Bruce enveloped you with his body once more, the hard length of his cock resting over your cunt, grazing your clit with every prolonged thrust against your hips.

You bucked your hips up against him, hands pressing into his back, eyes latched onto his, silently begging for him inside you.

In your heart, you knew he wasn’t trying to tease. Wasn’t trying to make you desperate for him, or force you to beg. He was cherishing the moment, drawing it out as long as you would let him for fear that it would disappear, that you would disappear. That you would change your mind and decide you didn’t want to reconcile, didn’t want to let him try and rectify his mistake.

“Bruce, I’m not going anywhere.” You put a hand against his cheek, running your thumb against his skin, and he leaned into it, pressing a kiss to your palm.

His eyes were on yours when he pushed into you, the length of his cock filling you up, forcing a broken gasp from both of your mouths. You slid both hands underneath his arms, gripping each shoulder as he continued thrusting into you.

Each thrust was drawn out, savoring the feeling of your cunt around him as he moaned against your mouth. You drove your head into the pillow, nails digging into his skin as the hot pressure of his cock filled you up again and again. The slow thrusts quickened as you gripped him tighter, sweat slicking up between your bodies, his chest heaving over yours.  

Your lips jostled against his, mouths bumping together more than kissing as the pace started losing rhythm. Bruce’s hips collided with yours, fucking deeper into you, forcing himself to slow down. You whined with each thrust, pressure bursting inside you as your cunt fluttered around his cock, bringing you closer to another orgasm.

Bruce slid a hand over one of your tits, thumb running over the raised nipple, covering your body with goosebumps. His tongue slid over yours, lips connecting and breaking apart with each moan.

He sped up, and the tension in your body grew, muscles seizing as he fucked you, the sensation cresting seconds later. You trembled underneath him, body convulsing as your orgasm ran through you like a shockwave, a heavy breath caught in your throat until you were over the peak. You let it out against his mouth, and he pushed his lips harder against yours, diving into the kiss, swallowing you whole.

You felt his body start to jerk, his moans growing more broken as he fucked faster into you. He was closing in on his own orgasm, and you moved a hand to his lower back, following his rhythm even as he started to lose it.

“I—” He stuttered, breaking your lips apart, and looking directly into your eyes, his own blue irises glistening with tears, “I love you.”

You sighed, a smile flashing over your lips before you guided his head to the crook of your neck, holding him there as he hit his climax.

“I—” He muttered, and you felt him try to pull away, but you ran your hand over his back and pressed kisses to the top of his head.

“Shh, Bruce, it’s okay. It’s okay.” You whispered, gasping at the last few thrusts of his cock inside you before he was quaking on top of you, hot breath hitting your neck in bursts as he regained his composure.

You guided his head back up so you could kiss him, lips sliding together lazily as he pressed a few more weak thrusts into you, draining the last dredges of his orgasm out of his body, small shivers running through his skin.

The two of you lie there for several quiet moments in the aftermath, your hand combing through Bruce’s hair, his head still on your chest. You looked over his body, noting the changes in his skin, the scars on his legs, the freckles that have darkened on his back. The Bruce that drove you from the manor still lived in the man on top of you, a protective armor he was still struggling to take off, but he was trying.

Bruce raised his head to look at you, his eyes betraying the smile he’d kept from his lips. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, and rolled off of the bed.

You watched him grab a towel from the bathroom, returning to clean up the mess he’d made, fabric grazing over your skin gently. He tossed it into the laundry basket, and slid back into the bed beside you, lying on his back, an arm slipping under your neck, pulling you to lie on his chest.

You rested your head on his torso, body flush against his side, eyelids fluttering closed as he kissed the top of your head. You looked up at him, admiring that smile in his eyes once again.

His voice was naught more than a whisper when he spoke, gravel and honey in his voice.

“Can I stay?” He asked, swallowing hard, jaw clenching.

You kept your gaze on him, looking over his features. There was still a pit in your chest, still anger in your mind, but you looked at the way he was bracing himself in front of you. The way he prepared for a ‘no,’ his grip on your body already going slack. You hadn’t lied all those years ago when you said you could never leave. There was a part of you that was still there, in the manor, waiting for Bruce. And now, here he was, waiting for you.

There was no other answer.

“Yes.” You laid your head back down, feeling the tension in his body dissolve, his grip tightening. You’d told him he could stay.

And so he did.

[mrskurono]

title: dreaming || Enmu x fem!Reader a/n: ahh to be writing gore again, it makes the heart go ♡ word count: 3.4k tags: gore, blood, the devouring of humans, torture undertones, accidental cannibalism (ingesting someone else’s blood), noncon, monster fucking, mind break, blood play, light cum play, cervix fucking, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, vaginal penetration, creampie, Enmu is insane ♡ also some spoilers to the Mugen Train if you haven’t seen/read the arc, unedited character(s): Enmu (kny)

Shrouded in warmth.

A warmth unfamiliar to you. As you stood, staring up at the crystal clear sky, voice lost to the world around you. But here you stood. Hearing everything at once. While retaining nothing at all.

Was this peace? Was this heaven? Were you dead?

“-the look-”

Unexpectedly the calmness of the sky shattered. Booming cracks above you when the once pale overhead now bore cracks stretched out as far as the eye could see.

“-on a human’s face as I pluck them from a vivid heaven like dream-”

Now it wasn’t just the sky. Under foot the ground broke into spider web like cracks all around you. Each snapping cry of the world around you produced a bigger break in the sky and earth.

“-heh, it’s like the sweetest nectar of course! Their eyes, filled with confusion and doubt! Savoring the way fear riddles their bodies in the moments before I-”

Splintered into pitch blackness. Robbed of the peace when a gush of warmth, not like the one you were basking in before, hit the side of your face.

 When your eyes snapped open to tear you away from the heavenly moment, only now a fleeting thought. There was a heaviness to your chest the second you saw the unnamed man next to you have his arm torn straight from the socket.

White joint tinged in fresh blood. Where all you wanted to do was scream. The man being dismembered was all but silent. Not a single pipe out of him but the crunch of another snapped bone. A wetness to the way his muscle was torn from his severed arm that you soon not forget. 

Fear swallowing you up as the monster beside you did the same to the man’s flesh between his pursed white lips.

“What do I have here...” 

Pungent and acrid. The smell of this much human blood. You couldn’t understand why it was so strong. But a short glance past the suited monster revealed what it really was you were smelling.

Intestines, remnants of body parts you couldn’t even identify, blood staining almost every surface of the train car, and bodies mangled past the point of knowing they were even human. All left behind, the monster knelt down beside you. Fearful of the worst. You looked behind yourself realizing you were still seated at the very end of the train car. The last one here. 

“Oh...did the smell wake you up?” Fangs bared without hesitation behind the smile as he spoke, “I must have gotten a little carried away in my feast...to let my spell slip up and now it’s gone and ruined your perfect little dream.”

“Y-You did this?!” Voice but a croak in your heavy chest as you attempted to scramble back from the man. Something you hardly considered man yet alone human.

Twitching, protruding veins running up his neck and across his pale face. Horizontal pupils looking at you in the most deranged way as blood and chunks of flesh clung to his otherwise well tailored suit. Was the ends of his hair red or was he just covered in that much blood?

He put his hand to his chest, like he wasn’t soaked in the gurgling man’s blood or the blood of the dozens of women, men and children strewn about the train car, “My handy work. Did you like it? Was it everything you would have hoped for? I can put you back under it if you’d like, my meal here isn’t done but you’ll be-”

“Please don’t!” You didn’t know what else to do, “Please don’t kill me! I- I won’t tell! I’ll- I’ll do anything and keep my mouth shut! Please I-”

“Heh- tchehehe-” No attempt to even hide the snicker leaving his lips, “You’ll promise me what? I’m not interested in anything you have but the flesh on your bones and the blood in your body. The more I consume, the stronger I’ll be. If I just let even one of you slip away well then....” He stepped to you even as your back hit the metal wall of the train car. Kneeling down the same bloodied hand that had ripped the poor man’s arm off now reached out to cup your chin in his delicate hands, “...it dampens my chances of ascending the upper ranks of the Twelve Kizuki! My name will be within the upper ranks, for that I swore I’d prove myself to Master Muzan and not waste the gift given to me.”

Cold siding of the train your only grounding in the situation. There was little your frantic brain could do but scramble for extra time, “-what- what’s your name?” 

The look on his face didn’t change.

“I- Please- I’d like to know your name....upper ranks of what? Are you a god?”

He let out a corrupted laugh. Throwing back his head and the matted black hair stuck together with blood shifting with his overzealous giggling, “A god! Do you hear that Master Muzan? This wonderful gift you’ve bestowed upon me....oh, I supposed as your perfect dream was ruined I could gift you with my name as a parting sympathies.” He swiped his bloodied thumb over your bottom lip. Smearing the strangers blood like a swatch of color on you while smiling, “Enmu....one of the Twelve Kizuki, and how misfortunate it is that you have peaked my interest in this ploy.”

“Wait I didn’t-”

Enmu leaned in and ran his tongue up along your jawline as he held your face still in an iron cladded grip, “You must taste as good as you smell....Oh how the fear only permeates every aspect of you humans until you’re simply a delightful feast!”

Betrayed in the seconds his tongue trailed up your cheek, your fists balled up tight when your body shudders. 

“What’s this?” His fangs grazed your cheek, “I shouldn’t play with my food, how unbecoming it would be, but....” Enmu’s free hand came to rest on your thigh as he leaned in, “It seems I’ve eaten every witness on this train who might not enjoy me playing with my meal.”

Fighting for something else to by you time. Enmu needed not to hear your words any longer. Thumb that swiped the foreign blood on you now pressed against your bottom lip until forced into your mouth. Quickly the vile taste of blood and something unidentifiable filled your senses. The harder he pressed on your tongue the more impossible it was to do anything but suck on it.

“Very good....” Enmu let out something close to a coo. You couldn’t understand entirely as the blood in your veins ran like ice when something not expected touched between your legs. 

Shifting his palm up against your groin. Your eyes darted down to reveal the horror of a mouth opening on his palm. A scream, that sounded much more like a moan, was muffled by Enmu’s thumb in your mouth.

“I’ve never eaten a human this way before....” Enmu sung softly into your ear as he gagged you now not with his thumb but the two fingers he replaced it with, “Tell me, do you taste as good as you smell?”

Cloth torn away from anything private. Enmu let a snicker out as he brought his hand back down to your now exposed slit. 

“I think this might be too dry, even for me...allow me to fix that.” The mouth on his hand slack and waiting with a tongue out. For whatever reason you didn’t expect what to happen next. But as he pressed his palm into your cunt lips the sudden sensation of wet stole a gasp from you.

Once again warm. But not like the dream and certainly not like the blood. This was wet and horrid as your legs shuddered against your will. Broad and wide, covered in what had to be saliva, the tongue wasted no time working over your clit. Sloppy swipes of the muscle over and over. No amount of terror or the gagging scent of blood was stopping the rising sensitivity in your hard bud. Enmu grinning even wider now as he felt the weight of your hips press into his second mouth.

“That seems wet enough...” Without warning the demon slipped not one but two of his fingers knuckles deep into you. 

The wet squelch of his fingers defiling your insides. Attention almost entirely on your clit before this. The second something was introduced to your quivering plush insides left it impossible for you to stifle a moan, as much as you hated it.

Beaming a contorted grin at you Enmu twisted and swirled his fingers inside you. Up towards your bladder. Down towards your pelvic floor. And everything in between. There was no rhythm or reasoning to his motions. One moment you wanted to scramble away. The next left your legs quivering and your hips working a way to find more of his fingers inside you. Persistent aching as the maw on his hand washed your clit with never ending attention.

“S-Stop-” Faux plea in your voice. Some time before Enmu had found a particular spot inside you he found entertaining. Each thrust of his fingers against your cushiony walls made you clench around him. 

Fingers covered in slick, those distorted inhuman eyes half lidded and cast down on you, Enmu licked his lips as he pressed his palm firmer against your core, “Stop with a meal this delightful? I don’t think I’ll-”

“I can’t-!” Cracks in your nonsensical babbling, you couldn’t stop yourself from grabbing his wrist as the unexpected orgasm shook through your body. 

Enmu’s face lighting up with a positively esthetic grin as he felt your cunt tighten around him. Not like before. No, you were thrusting up on his fingers and choking on your moans as the demon didn’t quell his motions. Finding his knuckles deeper inside you still as the tongue on his hand swished over your throbbing clit in time with the way you shook and shuddered for him,

“Heh,” Drawing his fingers slowly from your quivering core. Creamy and thick in scent, Enmu brought his fingers to his mouth and smiled down at you, “I would say....you taste as good as you smell human.”

Head rolled back on your shoulders unable to fully process his words. In a daze when you watched Enmu run his tongue up and down his soiled fingers. You gag at the thought as he slurps up your creamed juices between his pale fingers. Hit with the fact you were still surrounded by death. With it waiting for you as well. You tried scooting back even in your post orgasm drunkenness.

“Ah ah ah,” Enmu gripped your bare thigh. Stopping you from moving even an inch. He looked from his hand to you exposed under him, “Where do you think you’re going?”

Words caught in your throat for the moment. You wanted to push his hand away from you. Run away. Escape with your life. Still though your legs felt like jelly. Twitching ache taking root in your body even when all you could see was the blood stained demon knelt before you. Ready to plead for your life again. Those words were cut off short when he pinned you under them.

“It’s been forever since I’ve had this much fun~!” Enmu, caging you in with arms on either side of you. Pinned between him and the wall of the train car behind you, it took you a second to realize how pushed up between your legs he was. Enmu smiled down at you with an almost charming expression as he drew his face closer to yours, “What’s with that face....I liked the one you had moments before.”

Strength not proportionate to his stature at all. It was a skin crawling reality to understand how or why he didn’t have any trouble tearing through flesh, breaking bones and snapping joints. Your arm, be it very much alive, could easily be torn from your socket like the body only a few feet from you. Eyes shifting from the face above you, to the dead bodies still strewn about the train car, your window to get away was suddenly no longer there. Enmu pressed his hips up against yours and remained unwaivered by your pushes. He wasn’t human.

“I could make you sleep.....” Enmu leaned down, lips dancing along your jawline closer to your ear. Hushed in tone with his breath tickling your neck, “Sleep a wonderful sleep. Filled with that wonderful dream once more. But the way your body lit up to my touch....” You felt something press against your thigh as he rocked back and forth against you giggling, “No dream I could construct would make your flesh quiver with joy like this~!”

Meek even if you did refuse his words. It didn’t matter as the hungry demon above you took a smitten liking to playing with his food.

No longer protected by the black fabric of his elongated suit between the two of you. Or even the pinstripe slacks unzipped to reveal a peak at his pale boney hip. Everything moved too fast before your eyes. You felt him before you saw it.

“Hgh!” Tongue lolling out of your mouth at the sudden feeling of fullness. Defiled like you felt your belly would split in half just by him sheathing himself in you. Enmu snickered down at you as the hands once used to push at his torso now were finding themselves fisting his black jacket instead. 

He had to admit. As unbecoming as it was to play with ones food. Nothing was stopping from indulging even more.

Dipping his head down Enmu brushed his lips against your ear just with a timely snap of his hips into yours. Nearly driving himself all the way back into you all over again. A far cry from the way you’d been worming your way away from him. Now it was your grabby human hands clutching his jacket with your pretty neck exposed like not a single muscle in your body remained.

There would be no denying. His mouth watered.

Enmu grazed his fangs over your jugular with little care if you felt the indent of his teeth press into your skin. Each thrust into you only made you come back into his body that much more. Like you were caving in on yourself being fucked relentlessly under him. Adoring the noises you made even as the pressure and fear of his fangs remained right there.

“N-No-” You croaked. Even the rancid smell of blood could take away from the tightening in your body, “P-Please-”

Brining his face away from your neck. Enmu, with nothing short of a sadistic grin plastered on his lips, watched for gluttonous entertainment as you pleaded under him, “Oh but this is so much better! A dream could never make the fear taste so sweet! Each emotion coursing through your veins! Look at you, you simply can’t think! It’s wonderful!”

From just being pinned between his body and the wall. Enmu once more displayed his inhuman side as he rolled you onto your belly. Just as quickly as he’d entered you, was as quickly as he’d put you down on the filthy floor of the train cart. 

Dirt, blood, chunks of human, pine needles drug in on the shoes of now dead passengers. As Enmu pushed your face back into the ground to keep you still, everything was suddenly at eye level. You couldn’t escape it or him.

“Where did those sweet noises go my dear?!” Enmu slithered his touch up your back. It was momentarily soothing until he stuffed his cock into you without warning all over again. Earning the moan he so kindly asked for, “Aww yes, there we have it. Beautiful music~”

Each snap. Driving his cock deeper into you. Like you could feel it in your belly. Even unsure when it would stop. You grab out at the nothing before you. Nothing but a slaughter. Reaching but Enmu quickly shuts it down when his hand clasps over yours and pins it down near your face. His weight shifting to almost entirely on you as his thrusts get rougher and deeper.

Down here, you could clearly smell the cold caking blood on everything. You were choked by it in fact. But it simply didn’t make a difference. As Enmu drove his cock into you one too many times. Restrained under his demonic strength and cunt nothing more than a toy to him. When your thighs began to tremble you knew it was all over.

Gripping his hand, for it was all you really had, your body betrayed you. Pushing back against his thrusts. Muscles tightening in a wave over your body. A wave the demon would simply fuck you right through. Your climax hit you hard. Unbearably so as you screamed a gargled mess of moans feeling your body actively milk his thrusts for even more pleasure. Enmu more than obliged to feed into your cushiony walls begging for his cock. Fucking you relentlessly through your orgasm as his giggles and your lewd moans were all that filled the train car.

“My what is this....” Enmu sung almost merrily as you felt him lean out of you. his cock pulling from you as he flipped you back onto your back. Spreading your legs it soon became apparent what he was talking about when the seeping warmth of something made its way down your ass cheeks, “A wonderful surprise to this demon form!”

Not even tilting your head up to look at him. When you felt Enmu reposition himself between your legs. Cock swiping up your slit, you realized it was cum he was smearing all over everything. And once again he pushed himself inside you. Inviting his face right above yours as the clumps of blood matted hair framed his eager smile beaming down at you.

“This look....like you can’t wake up.” Enmu leaned into one arm so he could trace his fingertips down your temple as you looked up at him in a daze. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the line of that god forsaken mouth closed on his hand. Slowly your gaze shifted up to his eyes enamored with you under him. Not even a peep out of you when his fingertips made their way down your cheek and Enmu leaned down to swipe his tongue over your lips.

Lips parting to get the last little bit of his tongue touching yours. You weren’t even sure as to why you did it. But as the stench of blood engulfed you and the crack of blood on your skin could be felt drying. You reach up and drape your arms over his shoulders. Enmu smiling. Rutting into you and seeing your eyes roll into the back of your head when your eyes flutter shut. The demon inhales the intoxicating scent rampant between the two of you.

“The look on a humans face.” Enmu licked his lips above you. 

Once again caging you between his arms as you adjust to the leaking warmth from between your legs. This wasn’t a warmth like the dream. Nor like the spilling of blood. A new warmth. One you were uncertain and in a daze about. 

“Nothing compares to the confusion when it’s ripped from them and plunged into fear....” Enmu rutted inside you just to have your lips part in a moan. He grinned and dipped his tongue into your mouth. Forcing you to taste every human he’d killed on his train. Forcing you to savor him as he savored you, “A demon of the lower ranks, I shouldn’t be playing with my food like this but.....you simply taste so much better awake than dreaming.”

“Please...” You words a murmur against his lips as Enmu began fucking you once more. Not a single muscle in your body save for the ones letting your arms hold onto his shoulders.

“Shhh now,” Enmu leaned down. Now on his elbows as both hands came up to cup your face. His thrusts turning into deep rutting motions that only made your body ache and twist for more. He knew it too. Holding you still as his thumbs swiped over your stained cheeks and all Enmu could do was lick his lips with his growing hunger, “You’re not dead. No, not yet....we have all night. And I want to taste every thing about you.”

[avintagekiss24]

—belated; bucky barnes

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4738

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, rough sex, anal sex, biting kink, choking kink, spanking, pain kink, vaginal fingering, mean bucky (my fave), ring kink cuz i love it when boys wear rings

squares filled: @buckybarnesbingo Y3: Birthdays ; @badthingshappenbingo Biting ; @star-spangled-bingo N1: Taking Charge

request: bucky barnes + "pay attention to me or i'll make you" + anal + choking + spanking + biting + pain

author note: it's been foreverrrrr! i'm so sorry! i had to work myself through a little slump! hopefully this makes up for the almost two months we've gone without a fic! this is story #2 for my 5k celebration, all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. this was formatted in the beta text post editor on desktop, if anything looks weird, that's why :)

gif by @pedropcl ; line divider by @firefly-graphics

James Buchanan Barnes is possessive.

One of those massive hands around the back of your neck as you walk casually through the streets. Fingers wrapped around your wrist, or shoulder, or hip in a tight grip. He pulls you in close— right into his side as shopping bags hang from the tips of his metal fingers.

Bucky Barnes wants every man on the streets of Greece to know that you are his.

Not that you mind; quite the contrary. You just smile and giggle when he throws his heavy arm around your shoulders and hooks the crease of his arm right underneath your chin. Slip your hand into the back pocket of his loose dark jeans (giving that little tush of his a squeeze). Slink your arm around his little waist and breathe in his scent— heavy and woodsy— as the two of you stroll.

After all, he’s just as much yours as you are his.

All of his friends, Sam, Steve, Clint, all see the change in him. The little soft spot for you that blinds him entirely— turns him in a mushy puddle of emotions and puppies and rainbows. Very different from the Bucky they grew up with, but a Bucky that the three of them have come to enjoy. It’s a change of pace from the enforcer they know.

The two of you don’t talk about his work— in fact, it’s the reason why you’re in Greece to begin with. A late birthday present to make up for the fact that his “work” just happened to be the waiter at the restaurant he chose to take you to for your thirty second birthday. Come on babe, he chuckled as you scowled back at him over the rim of your wine glass, watching as he stained his white napkin red with his bloody knuckles, you know what they say, kill two birds with one stone… not funny?

Two weeks, two nonrefundable, open ended tickets, and five grand in bikinis, shorts, and shoes later, you’re getting some much needed Greek sun on your deep brown skin.

He’s even letting you call the shots for a change. Letting you wake him up at the ass crack of dawn to have breakfast— a spread of breads, cheeses and fruits on the balcony of your room as the sun rises. He doesn’t say a word as you drag him through the city, stopping at each little boutique and shoe store. Sits patiently as you try on every dress, every skirt, and every silk top in the entire country it seems.

Bucky even bit his lip as you gazed at engagement rings— hinting that princess cut is your favorite as you held your hand up into the natural sunlight as one adored your finger. Smiling over at him and wiggling your eyebrows all the while as he narrowed his eyes and plastered a fake smile on his face.

Today has been like all the others, a lazy day spent on the beach, a quick nap underneath an umbrella, a concoction of too much sun and too many margaritas going straight to your head. Now, you’re kinda sleepy and kinda drunk, but most importantly hungry— and Mykonos sounds like a great place for dinner. Despite Bucky’s objections (you’re too tired and too drunk to handle a ferry), you’re dressed in a cute little flowery sundress, him in an out-of-character white tank top, open pale blue and green striped button down and khaki chinos— you forbade him from bringing anything black— and you’re flip flops are slapping against the cobblestone street towards the ferry.

“Drop your attitude,” You say, glancing over your shoulder as he pays for your tickets, “You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, that excuse is wearing thin, girl.” You stumble a little with the motion of the ferry as you step onto it, having to grab onto the railing to steady yourself before Bucky grabs hold of your wrist, “Water only for the rest of the night.”

His voice is low and borderline threatening as he presses his lips right against your ear, and you know not to press him any further. You like to stick your toes right up against his line and that’s what irritates him most about you (always what he loves most), but you and he both know you’d never dare cross it.

Bucky pulls you behind him, hand around your wrist, that possessive trait rearing its head as male eyes fall on you as the two of you pass by. He finds an empty spot, away from the crowd, and plops down on the bench as you step up on the lower rung of the railing and stare out over the sea.

Within twenty or thirty minutes, the ferry pulls away from the dock and you can’t wipe the smile from your face. The sun sets off in the distance, the bright lights of the city turning into little pinpoints. Small droplets of the cool, salty water splashes up in your face as the wind and the ferry whips it up. You keep glancing down at the phone in your hand as you broadcast your current view to your instagram, laughing softly as hearts and emojis explode on your screen.

You lean forward, tilting your phone and smiling wide, waving into the camera before you shout out how much you love it here. The words are barely out of your mouth before an arm wraps around your middle, a wide, hard chest pressed into your back, “That’s enough,” he reaches with his metal arm, grabbing your phone, ending your live feed, “You’re too drunk to be hanging off the side like that.”

“I am not,” you struggle against him lightly as he sets you on your feet, “What is your problem?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Well, duh. Why?”

He slips your phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, sharp blue eyes piercing into yours, “Pay attention to me,” he says low, eyes dropping down your body real slow as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “Or I’ll make you.”

So that’s what it’s about. Bucky Barnes feels neglected between all the shopping and beach days and margaritas. Jealousy is cute on him.

The words though, they strike you right to your core— feel them down to your bones. A hard swallow pushes through your throat as your lips part, big brown eyes softening as your breath starts to rush a little harder. You hate to admit— not really— you love this Bucky. This is work Bucky, a man you rarely get to see. Slightly scary, anger brimming just below the surface. Jaw tight, eyes hard, head tilted just a bit. He’s menacing, and it makes your lips twitch into a small smile.

Shrugging defiantly, you cross your arms over your chest, “You didn’t pay much attention to me on my birthday.”

“Not true.”

“Not true?” you nearly shout, eyes going wide, “I ate alone while you beat the hell outta our waiter behind the building! I had to wait two hours for my slice of cake!”

“How is that my fault?”

You scoff, “Oh, I dunno, maybe because our waiter was spitting out his teeth in the alley out back— all thanks to you.”

“I have to work. You know that.”

“Not,” you hiss, “On my fucking birthday.”

He knows he’s wrong for that shit, so he stands there, huffing quick before he cocks his head again and just blinks back at you— unamused. He won’t apologize, it’s just not in his nature, but his usual attempts to make you happy after he’s fucked up aren’t working; so he’s at a loss.

And you’re enjoying that. A little too much if you ask him.

But alas, it’s not fun to fight on vacation, and you have taken far too many liberties when it comes to his tolerance for attitude. It’s been fun— and you’re just drunk enough to push him one last time.

You move slow, walking right up to him, so close that each inhale pushes your tits into his body. The smirk quirked up on your lips grows as you peer up at him, eyes bouncing between his as you place your hands on his forearms still crossed over his chest.

Bucky lifts his eyebrow as you push up on your tiptoes and push your chin forward to bring your lips close to his, “And just how are you gonna make me pay attention to you, James?”

He inhales deep, pushes it out real slow as he tilts his head even further. A smile spreads on his face and you just know that this is the last thing his work sees before he rearranges the bones of their face. This is exactly why his clients pay him as well as they do.

Thick fingers are wrapped around your wrist again, nails digging into your skin as he starts to pull you behind him. He weaves you through bodies, you nearly having to jog to keep up with his strides. Laughter bubbles up in your chest, a little shriek escaping as he pulls you down some stairs to the lower level of the ferry. Once your feet hit the last step, Bucky whips you around his body, sending you spinning and laughing until you bounce into an old, rusty metal barrel.

The smell of salt fills your nose and lungs as you inhale, covering your face with your hands. Your skin is hot, lips slightly numb as you dissolve into laughter again. He’s right, you’re a little too drunk for this.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here.” You mumble, brushing your wild hair out of your face.

“I could give a fuck,” he answers, stepping up to you, grabbing your face in his hands, “You’ve been testing me the entire time we’ve been here all over some stupid shit.”

Another giggle pushes through your lips as you bat your eyes, “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky sucks his teeth as he drops his metal hand around your throat and squeezes gently, the rings on his fingers cool against your skin, “I was stupid, okay? But don’t put on that little innocent act, girl. You’re trying me, and I’ve had enough.”

A smile cracks onto your face, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You wrap both hands around his one wrist and slip them up his arm, feeling the soft metal as you continue to goad him, “You got some proof, big man?”

The tip of his black and gold thumb prods at your lip, pushes just inside. You wrap your tongue around it and suck gently, keeping your eyes on his all the while.

Bucky laughs, deep and earnestly, “Proof, she says. She needs proof.” He glances around before he spins you quick, facing you away from him as he lifts your dress to reveal your pink satin thong.

You squeal loud, pushing and slapping at his hand as he grabs a handful of your ass, “Bucky! There’s people!” you laugh, “Oh my god!”

“Keep your voice down,” he warns, wrapping his metal fingers around your throat again, “Understand?”

A jolt of electricity flashes through you as you wiggle in his grasp. He tightens his grip around your neck as you wrap your fingers around the edge of the barrel, swallowing hard.

“That requires an answer, honey.”

The chill in his voice, added with the slow circles and soft tickles of fingertips against the back of your naked thigh sends a pang through your belly, “I understand.”

He chuckles soft and with a quick peck on the cheek whispers, “Good girl.”

Bucky curls his left arm around your chest, hooking your chin in the crease of his arm as he grips your right shoulder. You grab on to it with both hands, out of instinct, eyes wide and skirting around for any signs of other human presence down here. Bucky turns, moving you with him to eye the steps quickly again before that flesh hand sweeps around to the front.

The soft material of your dress falls over his hand as he rubs your stomach— his rings catching and snagging your skin. That hand pushes downward, over your thighs, gripping and kneading the soft flesh before he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it upward, exposing those expensive panties again.

“Bucky,” you hum, his name trembling on your lips with the vibrations of your excitement, “Baby.”

He rucks your dress right up— right up around your waist and pulls the slack behind you, pressing his body into yours to keep it in place. The dark stubble adorning his cheeks and chin cuts into the side of your face as he nuzzles in, humming to himself soft before he kisses the corner of your mouth.

Those fingertips start to trace the hem of your thong— slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. From hip to hip. Your eyes flutter. Fingers grip the soft black metal of his arm a little harder. Legs go to jelly as another hard swallow passes through your throat.

“Ain’t got all that mouth now, do you?” He whispers, fingers slipping just inside the silk of your panties to tease the delicate skin underneath.

When he slips his hand in— all the way in— cupping hot skin, fingers dancing between folds and teasing a wet slit, an influx of air fills your lungs. A gasp, small and clipped sounds in the back of your throat as his fingers start a rhythm. You melt into him, head resting on his shoulder as your hips push forward to meet greedy fingers.

A naughty finger pushes in quick, and then a second— all the way to the black and silver rings dressed on them. His arm tightens around your neck as he presses his lips right against your ear, “You need to apologize.”

He fucks his fingers into you, withdrawing slow, and then pushing back in— each time the edges of his rings stopping him from going deeper. You can’t help but purr as you continue to grip his arm with both of your hands.

“I don’t think—“

“All I want to hear,” his words clip yours, each one slow and drawn and deep, “Is I’m sorry for testing your patience. I won’t do it again.” He curls his fingers, the pads stroking that sweet little spongey spot, making you clamp your legs closed around his hand, “Let me hear you.”

You can’t. You won’t. Too stubborn and too drunk to give in to him, wanting to win just this once.

If there’s one thing James Buchanan Barnes does not like, it’s hesitation. It’s dangerous, he always says. You think too long, you get hurt. Predators don’t hesitate.

Well, you like being his prey.

Only a few seconds pass before Bucky tuts in your ear, seemingly disappointed in your obstinate behavior, but you both know it’s just the opposite. His cock pressing into your ass tells you so.

The fingers disappear. The arm choking you just right pulls away and your dress falls back around the middle of your thighs. You huff, wiping quick at your forehead and pushing your wild, curly hair out of your face again.

Your hands find your hips in irritation but he slaps them away quick as he sucks his teeth, “You must really want this spanking, girl. Keep it up.”

That you do— keep it up. Huffing again. Crossing your arms over your chest like a petulant child. Brown eyes cut back at him over your shoulder to find sharp blues already on you. A smirk on his face.

Metal fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing you forward gently until your thighs press against the old metal barrel again.

“Lean forward, kitten.”

Voice as smooth as silk while you do so, gripping the rusted edges for balance. Your dress is yanked up again— rough this time— and twisted around his Vibranium hand. Then there’s warm, the warmth of skin against yours. Gentle brushes of fingers and a palm rubbing slow circles, then pinching and grabbing soft— prepping your skin for what’s to come.

He pauses for just a second, no doubt to scan your surroundings and then pulls his hand away. You lung forward with the slap he levels to your behind within a fraction of a second— the sound sharp and heavy.

There’s another, and then a third in quick succession before he’s massaging your skin again. Real soft and sweet. Tears burn at the back of your eyes at the sting that radiates through, all the way to your bones but the molten heat deep in your belly spreads like a fire. Each breath is hard and shaky, heart thumping against your chest but it’s so good.

Bucky switches to the other cheek, skilled fingers sweeping over your canvas of skin before he cracks you— one, two, three.

You squeal with each one. The thud of those heavy rings around his fingers send a quick, new shockwave every time, building on the one before it. The tips of your fingers go red from holding on to the rusty old barrel as tight as you are, but your brain? She’s fuzzy and warm, and drifting up into the clouds with each swift slap.

Bucky is a methodical man. Three for the right cheek, three for the left, three right in the middle. His hand sneaks around your hip, giving it a squeeze before it comes back around and drops to the inside of your thigh. Grabs the meat of it— digs his fingernails in just to hear you yelp. Cups your cunt in his palm, feeling the heat and the wet— makes him groan all low and dirty.

He bunches your hair in his hand, tugs you up by it. Spins you around to face him before hoisting you up and settling you on top of the barrel.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you?” He growls, ripping at the button and zipper of his jeans.

You just hum in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your arms over his shoulders.

Bucky grabs your chin, forcing it up before he squeezes your cheeks, “Huh? Answer me.”

Damp eyelashes flutter as hot air escapes from parted, hot lips. He leans in real close, cock pushing right at your slit and kisses you hard as he slips his arm around your waist. He breaks away quick, sloppy and loud before pecking your lips once, twice, three times again.

“You want me to fuck you, girl?”

The weight of his words are felt right down to your core, a shiver passing between the two of you. You let your heavy head fall back and your eyes close as Bucky nuzzles into the side of your face, his pretty white teeth skipping along your neck, nipping and nibbling.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper after mere seconds, finally submitting in this cat and mouse game, “Bucky, please.”

That’s all he needs— all he wants. For you to submit, after letting you have the reins for one day too long. He sinks into you slow, spreading you open with each inch, biting down into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. His teeth dig in a little deeper, a little harder as he starts to move, rocking back and forth almost succinct with the waves of the water.

You’re moving with him too, meeting each of his thrusts with your hips. You keep your legs tight around his waist, feet dangling and bouncing against the back of his thighs. A trail of hot kisses are pressed along your neck and down your shoulder before traipsing back up— teeth grazing along your jaw.

Long fingers skip up your side and between your bouncing tits to only wrap around your neck again. They squeeze, gently, as his pace starts to pick up, hips shoving harder and faster— that old barrel starting to scrape against the wood floor.

The force makes you louder, moaning with abandon as if the two of you are all alone on this little ferry. Bucky makes quick work of you, shoving metal fingers into your mouth— giving you something to suck on to keep you quiet.

“That’s a good girl.” he growls, voice gritty and low.

He’s punishing after that. Each snap of his hips thrusting you backward, the barrel you’re on top of tipping back and then slapping down on the floor. You yelp with each one, your mouth going slack around his digits as your hands fall to the edges of the barrel for some semblance of balance.

It’s obscene, the way you can hear your fuck. The wet of your cunt. The squeak of his cock plunging into tight, slick muscles. The heavy thud of his hips pounding into yours. The slap of your flip flops falling to the wood floor as he’s quite literally fucked them right off of your feet. It’s filthy— crude— and so very Bucky.

You’re back on your feet before you know it— before you realize it. Spun back around, Bucky’s hard chest and stomach pressed into your back. He grabs both of your hands and places them back on the barrel, his metal hand staying on top of yours, fingers gripping fingers.

Eager hips wiggle back into his as you hiss and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, groaning low. Your head drops when you feel his cock push through your ass cheeks— wet cockhead pressing against your hot rim.

He starts to fumble around behind you, each passing second making you more and more impatient. There’s a soft click, and then a light suction sound— something squeezing.

“Bucky,” you hiss, pushing back into him again, “Hur—”

The word breaks off right in the middle as he levels a quick smack against your hip— a warning. Then your ass cheeks are pulled apart, wet, slimy fingers sliding and prodding at your quivering rim. He brushes slow strokes, circling, pressing his fingers gently as he preps your little hole for what’s to come.

“What kind of freak brings lube to dinner?” you smile, gasping as he pinches the inside of your thigh.

You lurch forward when he grabs the back of your neck and yanks you back into him, lips right against your cheek, “The kinda freak that was gonna fuck you in an alley after dinner. Now shut that mouth.”

He’s pressing again, this time harder, his cockhead popping into you with force. You grunt with the initial intrusion, Bucky stopping his assault to allow you time to adjust to him— but that doesn’t last long. Your mouth goes slack again. Eyes slam shut, head falls forward as he slips in, deeper and deeper and deeper until his stomach is flush with your ass.

He wiggles— so you can feel him, feel him tickling the deepest part of you. Slaps at your ass again, quick, fingers glancing off your skin and leaving behind a hell of a sting. Then he’s fucking you again, slower this time, savoring the tight, glove-like hold your body provides.

Metal fingers grab at the hem of your dress again, tugging it up before they push back into your panties, finding a swollen, hot nub. Pinching and rubbing smooth circles against it, flicking and thrashing at the bundle of nerves before he shoves his fingers back into your cunt. They curl, those fingers, and pet your insides with surgical precision— only James Buchanan Barnes knows how to fuck you like this.

The heel of his palm slams against your clit as he fingers you rough and fucks your ass with gusto. Sleazy sounds gurgle up in your throat, the slapping of skin and the waves crashing against the side of the ferry, the rush of the wind filling your ears. Bucky pulls you flush against him and slithers his tongue just beneath your ear before his teeth grab a hold, tugging soft.

Teeth keep nipping— along your jaw, your cheeks, ears, neck. He fucks into you hard as he shoves his flesh hand into the neckline of your dress, gripping your tits. Pinching and kneading hard, thick nipples, mumbling sweet nothings all the while.

Your stomach churns, muscles tensing and flexing as synapses start to fire off in quick succession. Quick goosebumps pop up along your skin as your stomach tightens and you can taste it it’s so close. Bucky knows it, feels it as your walls constrict around his fingers, your asshole tightening around him. Vibranium fingers keep rubbing, keep fucking into your pussy hard, palm slapping against your clit, adding more and more pressure until the coil snaps.

It’s hard, and sudden— your body freezing as your orgasm consumes you. Bucky clamps a wet hand over your mouth as you mewl and bite into his palm, your hips thrusting forward with each wave of your release. He pulls his fingers from you to slap at your jumping clit, pressing the pads into it before he rubs quick little circles and then slaps at it again.

He drops his hand to your chin, yanking it up as you nearly cry, mewling and trembling with your release to kiss you hard and sloppy as you come. He kneads your tits with his mammoth hand as aftershocks flash through you, your used body jerking at random. Within seconds, there's a cloud of warmth in your ass. Rough grunts in your ear, growing louder with each spurt of his cock, your hot muscles milking him.

You let him use you, let him fill you up full of his silk. Grab his hands and lace your fingers with his as he empties long ribbons in you. Pull his arms around your waist and hold them there as he rides it out, his head falling to your shoulder. The two of you stand there, resting against that old barrel, breathing hard, skin sticky and balmy. Salt from the ocean in your nose.

Bucky’s the first to pull away, glancing back at the stairs before he pulls himself gingerly from you, leaving your body empty, a dribble of his come slipping out with him. He catches it with his fingers, drags them up the back of your thigh and between your ass cheeks before he shrugs out of his collared shirt and white tank top.

He cleans you up sweet with the tank top. Keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as he wipes at your thighs and your hot, sticky, puffy cunt, shushing you soft when you jump and whimper at the contact. He flings the messy tank top over the side of the ferry and rubs your hips and stomach real slow, murmuring into your ear all the while.

Diligent fingers then rearrange your thong— and cop a little feel, cupping your sensitive, swollen sex, giving it a little pinch so he can laugh when you shiver and squeak. Bucky pulls your dress, tugging lightly to get it back straight around your waist before smoothing it over your ass and thighs— even pulls at the top, making sure your tits are sitting pretty.

You can’t even open your eyes, overcome by alcohol and sleepiness and a post sex high. He fumbles with your fingers as your head lulls on his shoulder, a soft hum vibrating in your throat in your murky haze. Bucky lifts your arm by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm until he’s cupping your hand in his.

“Open your eyes, baby.” You groan in protest, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest, “Come on.”

So you do. You always do whatever this man wants you to do— and there, right on your finger sits that big princess cut engagement ring you teased him with days before.

“How about we skip dinner and find a church, huh?” he whispers, kissing your cheek soft and sweet.

You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes wet as a smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And if I say no?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He laughs as you adjust in his arms, pushing up on your tiptoes to cup his handsome face and kiss him on those pretty pink lips, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into that pretty mouth of yours, won’t I birthday girl?”

[b0ther]

empty when you’re gone

everyone dreams of having sex with lisa minci, but you’re the one fucking her silly in the library tonight.

pairing : lisa x reader (gender neutral pronouns, amab)

rating : explicit, not safe for work (sexual content)

type : one-shot

tags : public sex, library sex, dirty talk, praise kink, slight verbal degradation, the usage of the words “whore”, “doll”, and “slut”, hair pulling, riding, cumming inside, some spanking, some manhandling, breeding kink if u squint real hard, reader has a big dick

word count : 1,407

author's note : title from 'cheerleader' by omi. lisa pls lemme suck on ur tiddies.

( masterlist │ ask/request  │ ao3  )

There’s just something about fucking the woman everyone wants.

Miss Lisa Minci, the smartest and most endearing person in all of Monstadt, complete with a body sculpted by Venus herself. You haven’t met a man, nor woman, who hasn’t dreamt of indulging themselves in some kind of romantic endeavors with her.

She seemed like the perfect partner—smart, but knows when to hold herself back. She was also kind and thoughtful, with a little pinch of sexiness added into the bunch.

Her clumsy personality was what caught your attention first.

Sure, her thick thighs or fuckable lips were what you saw first, but the way she apologized for once messing up the return date on your book caused you to dream of hammering into her innocent face for weeks.

And her tits—archons her fucking tits.

You had always wanted to feel them fill the empty spaces between your fingers; you’ve seen the way she races down the stairs, jugs just barely contained in her slutty dress, and how she would pant and wipe her forehead, looking at you with her lackadaisical smile. You wondered how she would look like after you fuck her senseless, how heavy her breath would be.

You would think that she was doing everything on purpose.

The soft greeting she gives you whenever you enter the vicinity of the library, the way she’d push her tits together every time she leans down to help you pick a book, letting you a view of her delicious breasts and the valley between them.

You constantly thought about how it would feel to fuck her tits, watching your cock disappear between her ample chest and kissing her lips.

And you were sure that you weren’t the only one in Mondstadt with thoughts so fucking filthy about her; you were sure that dozens of others would kill just to get her to show them her tits.

But you seemed to inherit Lady Luck’s blessings, as you get to be the lucky bastard to pound into her tonight.

You felt Lisa’s warm cunt enveloping your cock as you drilled into her mercilessly, with her bare tits pressed against the table.

“Fuck,” she moaned out your name, voice shy and intimidated at the thought of being fucked silly by you on her desk in the library.

It took you a while to coax her into dirtying her own office table with her own juice that night—starting with rubbing her core through her thin panties as she sat on your lap, writhing under your strong hold. You lapped hungrily at the sweaty skin of her neck as her scent made your cock harder and harder.

As soon as she finally grinded down on your clothed dick, putting her plump ass to good use, you pulled her dress down to let the cool night air hit her massive tits.

And before you knew it, you were pummeling her tight hole, spreading her wide open with your length.

She was such a good girl, Miss Lisa Minci, always asking you to go faster and harder, adding a cute little please at the end of every sentence begging you to fuck her pretty little cunt.

And you didn’t know where she learnt to use her words so compellingly, but it was like you were enchanted into giving her what she wants.

You leaned down onto her back, grabbing her jaws harshly to watch her expression—tongue drooled out with her eyes rolled back, your cock constantly hitting her sweet spot that she couldn’t even think of anything else.

“Fucking whore,” you grunted as she whined underneath your body. “How’re you taking my cock in so well, baby?”

You continued pounding into her as she tried to form an answer, her lewd voice strung together with debauchery in them as you straightened your body and dug your nails into her hips.

“You—“ she whimpered, fingers crushing documents under her body. “I’ve wanted—nghhh.”

“You gotta speak up, doll,” you grinned, pulling apart her asscheeks open using your thumb, watching how smoothly her folds were welcoming your cock.

She moaned out your name again, and again, and again.

You gave a coy smirk at the sight of her so helpless under your grip. “You like me taking you from behind, huh?”

She nodded her head like a dog in heat—a sense of pride grew in your chest as you managed to make the most clever person in the city your own little mindless fuckdoll.

Your fingers ran through her hair, before gripping a handful of them as you forcefully lifted her limp body to press against your chest, your other hand toying with her throbbing clit.

“Don’t—“ she whined, you felt her legs shaking. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum I’m gonna cum I’m gonna cum—“

You continued rubbing hard circles on her clit, rolling her nipple in between your fingers as you nibbled on her ear. “Cum, baby.”

Lisa opened her eyes, half-lidded to look at you as she wrapped her arms around your neck. “Cum with me,” she slurred as she felt the tip of your cock hitting her cervix.

You slowed down your thrust, exchanging your speed for power. Each one of your ramming caused a choked up sob from her mouth.

“I’ll fill you up,” you grunted, rubbing her clit harder, “fill you up with my seed, what about that?”

“Yesyesyes, fill my pussy with your cum—“ Lisa gasped, and her body immediately faltered after a massive wave of shuddering. You felt her pussy walls clamping your cock, her juice creaming your balls.

You let go of her body, letting her fall softly on the desk and worked on your orgasm, which came quickly after. You watched as Lisa twitched underneath you, her cunt hole gaping and closing as you decorated her walls with white sperm.

“Fuuuuck,” she breathed out your name, mouth open trying to catch her breath. You watched as she weakly tried to grind her ass around you, not wanting to waste a drop of your jizz.

You laughed softly, slapping her jiggly ass once before pulling your softening dick out from her pussy. She whined, cold at the sudden vacancy.

“C’mere,” you stepped backwards and let yourself fall on a chair, dick still hanging out.

Lisa meekly looked at you, still tired from her orgasm, and pushed herself from the desk. Her dress gathered on her wide hips as she stumbled to you, fingers pressing deep into your shoulder as she propped her knees on either side of you, lowering herself at your cock.

“You look like a fucking slut,” you chuckled, tugging a piece of hair behind her ear as she shut her eyes, biting down on her lips hard.

You placed your hands on her waist, feeling your dick hardening inside of her as she started to move her waist, tits jiggling at every roll.

“You fuckin’ me now?” You leaned on the back of the chair, enjoying the view.

“Mhmm,” she nodded, taking in the shape of your cock. “Sit still so— haaahhh, so I can ride you. Fuck…”

“Such a good girl,” you praised, watching your cock disappearing into her pretty cunt.

“I’ll fuck you dry,” she moaned again, lifting one hand from your shoulder to rub lazily on her clit. “Fuck you so good that you won’t forget the shape of my pussy.”

“Brave words,” you remarked, eyes not leaving her cunt as she pleasured herself, “especially from someone who was just begging for me to ram into her harder.”

Her cunt clenched at your words, causing a sudden jolt of excitement down your spine. She opened one eye, bottom lips jutting out and you almost took her on the table again right there and then.

But you held yourself back, clutching her waist in a grip so hard that it would surely leave a bruise on her pale skin.

“Don’t try to sound smart.”

Her words would have sounded like a threat if she wasn’t tightening against your length.

“Of course of course, Miss Librarian,” you gave her a smug grin, and Lisa decided to close her eyes again, pressing down harder on you.

“I’ll fuck you dry,” she said again, “so I won’t have to hear your stupid voice again.”

You shifted on your seat, fixing your position before grabbing her ass, bouncing her on your cock once. Lisa gasped, biting her bottom lips.

“I’d like to see you try.”

[kookieswan]

Fall for Me

Detective!Jungkook x Detective!Reader Word Count: 711

Genre: ANGST and some Fluffy fluff

Warnings: Mentions of serial killers and death, MC is injured. JK is big mad.

Notes: Had to repost this because tumblr decided to not work properly…

Tags @parkdatjimin sorry love ����

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook looks… Pissed. His face is screwed up, eyes hard and closed off as they look at you. You can’t really blame him though, you probably look horrible right now, all bandaged up and bloody.

You had finally caught the infamous “Dusk and Dawn Killer”, the serial killer you’ve been trailing after for nearly a year, but it came with a price. You had left Jungkook in the dust (a terrible decision in retrospect) and went after him alone. Went after a fucking serial killer alone… You’re lucky Jungkook didn’t kill you instead.

The psycho contacted you in secret, a thinly veiled threat. He’d promised you he wouldn’t touch Jungkook if you met him alone, and so you did. You knew it was a trap, knew you were probably fucked. But Jungkook would be safe, and that’s all that mattered. Jungkook, however, decided to show up and nearly lost his mind after he shot the killer between the eyes, eyes turning glassy at the sight of you beaten and bruised.

“What were you thinking? We’re you even thinking?” His voice is strained, scratchy as he finally speaks to you. You’re quiet for a bit, not even sure what to say to the man.

“No, I wasn’t thinking Jungkook. I just knew that I could finish this all… So I did.” You did go in with a plan, truly you did. You were going to take the asshole down, arrest him and bring him in finally to answer for his disgusting acts… but he had one upped you. Played the game and won almost too easily.

“Do you even realize how selfish you sound right now?! Just tossing your life away like it means nothing…” His voice booms out, echoing off the pale white walls of your hospital room. You blink owlishly at home, surprised by the outburst. He’s never been one to lose his cool easily, but you can’t help but feel a little defensive.

“Look, I did what I did to keep both of us safe. He threatened to hurt you Kook. I wasn’t going to let that happen.” No fucking way we’re you letting that happen. You and Jungkook have been partners since the beginning, he’s your day one. Jungkook continues to fume, getting out of his chair so quickly that it slams back against the wall.

“Who cares about me?! I can handle myself. You almost got fucking killed ___! What would I have done then, huh? What would I do if the woman I love died!?” Going to retort, you stop, suddenly aware of the tears that trial down his face. How absolutely broken the man who’s usually a force to be reckoned with looks. His words rock through you, and your process them, but you’re more worried so it his mental state right now. It’s almost an impulse as you go to get out of bed, to try to comfort him somehow.

“Hey- sit your dumbass down! You shouldn’t even be moving.” Jungkook strides up to your bed, pushing you back into the plush pillows gently, fluffing them up to make you more comfortable. You stare at his face in wonder, unbelieving of what you’ve heard. He loves you. The man that you love loves you. Huh.

“I love you too.” The fluffing stops and he draw back slightly, face looking just as shocked as yours. The poor man probably didn’t even comprehend what he was saying. You raise shaky hands to his cheeks, cupping them gently as you attempt to pull him in. He follows the pull easily, coming face to face with you, eyes blown wide.

“I love you too Jungkook.” You repeat it again, reaffirming what he needs to hear. His lips are on you after that, softly molding his against yours as he flutters his hands around, trying to find somewhere to touch you that won’t hurt. A giggle leaves you, slightly pained but very happy nonetheless as he pulls back. He snorts, leaving one last kiss against your forehead before fully standing.

“Don’t think that just I’m soft for you that you’ll get away with acting like a dumbass. You may be cute, but you’re also a fucking menace. Now get some sleep… baby.”

[scuttling]

If I Should Linger

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,979 (what is wrong with me??) Tags: 18+, NSFW, Best Friend's Dad Hotch, Confident reader, Flirting, Oral sex, Protected sex, Dirty talk, A little angst with a happy ending Summary: Your best friend stands you up at the bar, but it actually turns into the best night you've had in a long time—maybe the best night of your life. Unfortunately, things don't stay uncomplicated for long... *Requested by @hotforhotchner11 Link to A03 or read below! “I can’t believe you stood me up to have sex with a frat boy,” you hiss into your phone from your seat at the bar. Your best friend Julie—better known as Jay—is on the other end, and she’s completely ruining your plans for the evening at later than the last minute. She’s never on time for anything.

“He’s not a frat boy… yet. He’s rushing.” You pick up your gin and tonic to take a sip, but her comment makes you pause.

“He’s rushing? How old is he?” The breath she blows out before she answers tells you everything you need to know. Goddamn cradle robber.

“Twenty? Or, almost twenty.”

“Oh, you nasty girl. He’s nearly ten years younger than us.” At 28, you literally could not imagine being interested in a 20 year old. Anyone under 25 is practically an infant; what would you talk about?

“The pussy wants what it wants, babe. It’s more fun when they barely know what they’re doing.” Then again, you figure, she isn’t exactly doing much talking.

“That’s gross, Jay.”

“Is it any grosser than your thing for older guys? You’d fuck my dad if I let you anywhere near him, which is exactly why I don’t.”

“I would not fuck your dad—actually, what does he look like?” She groans down the line and you laugh. “I’m kidding. I’m trying to fuck someone’s dad tonight, but not yours.” You hear a choked laugh from beside you and you glance over at, objectively, one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen: he’s Black, bald, muscular, with a neatly trimmed goatee and a killer smile, and apparently your thirst for older men amuses him. You smile back. “Jay, I have to go; I’m embarrassing myself in public.”

“Okay, and what else is new? Bye!” When she hangs up, you lock your phone and turn to face the man at the bar.

“Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget people are actually listening in places like these; there’s so much talking it’s all kind of white noise to me.”

“It’s kind of my job to listen to what no one else does, but I forget to turn it off sometimes,” he says, and no, that’s not intriguing or anything. “So you’re into older guys?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, and you lean in with your chin in your hand, elbow on the bar.

“Almost exclusively. You don’t look old enough to be someone’s dad, but I’d probably make an exception.” He laughs again; he doesn’t have a drink, so maybe he’s waiting for the bartender, but you sip yours.

“I’m flattered, but taken. I have a friend who’s probably your type; he doesn’t do one night stands, though. He doesn’t really do anything. We’re trying to loosen him up.” You hum thoughtfully, take a cursory glance around the room.

“I happen to be great at loosening older men up. Is he here?” He shoots you a smile, looks at you like you kind of amaze him.

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Would you, if you weren’t taken?” He nods a little, like you’ve got a good point, and you both laugh. “Yeah, it’s a double standard. If you can walk up to a woman and ask her if it hurt when she fell from heaven, why can’t I walk up to an older man and ask if he believes in love at first sight, or if I should walk by again?”

“That tired line would not work on my friend,” he says, and you grin.

“I think you’d be surprised. But, you know him better, so why don’t you just invite me back to your table, since I got stood up by my friend and I’m all alone, and let me do my thing?” You swirl your straw in your drink, try to look flirty, and he leans in on his elbow like you did before.

“You know what? What the hell. If nothing else, he gets some attention from a pretty girl and maybe it boosts his confidence.” You smile—you like this guy already.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” He rolls his eyes, and then the bartender presents him with his drinks. You take two—one is a neat bourbon, that has to belong to the older man friend—and follow him to his table while he just shakes his head.

“Looks like you brought back more than drinks,” a pale woman with dark hair and bangs says with a smile when the two of you approach the table. He hands her one of the beers, takes the cocktail from your hand and gives it to a petite blonde with fair skin.

“Her friend bailed on her and we got talking at the bar, so I invited her to come sit with us.” You introduce yourself to the group, and the friend Derek mentioned might be your type? Egregious understatement.

He’s everything you like in an older man: polite, well-spoken, handsome, clean shaven, with a great head of thick, dark hair—he’s wearing an expensive watch, a goddamn suit, a tailored suit that fits him perfectly, and if Jay were here, you’d be catching her attention and panting like a dog, with your hands up near your face.

To someone without your more refined palate for older gentlemen, he may look like an average white guy in his early fifties, but you have to look down to make sure your panties haven’t dropped involuntarily. Just in case.

“Is this seat taken?” you ask, gesturing to the one next to him, and he shakes his head, pulls it out for you before he sits back down—yes, he stood when you approached the table. Manners, check. You’re trying not to drool.

You smooth out your skirt before you take your seat—you always dress for the man you want to attract, and tonight is no exception, so you’re wearing a black lace dress and nude heels; the dress is fitted, but not clingy, and not too short, and you know the right kind of man will find it appealing. So far, your handsome potential love interest Aaron seems to be looking respectfully; that may change, but you’re happy to see it, for now.

“So Derek mentioned you’re all in the FBI; are you the boss? You look like the boss,” you say with a playful smile, and Aaron looks a little nervous when he nods, makes eye contact.

“Until someone decides to overthrow me,” he jokes, deadpan, and your smile gets brighter. Dry sense of humor, check.

“I’d like to see them try; I definitely sense that you can handle your own.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Derek hiding a smile behind his hand. He knows you’re flirting, even if no one else does, and another reason you hope to take Aaron home is so you can wipe that smile off his face—but mostly because Aaron’s gorgeous, and you know it would be a very good time for the both of you.

“Let’s play darts,” Derek says to the other people at the table—you can’t remember their names at the moment, all your attention focused on Aaron—and they get up and walk over to the board, so it’s just the two of you.

Aaron clears his throat. “Thank you. What do you do for work?”

“I’m in publishing; a copy editor. Mostly Tom Clancy type action novels, and romance novels. Lots of heaving bosoms and cries of overwhelming pleasure, you know?” You take a sip of your drink through the straw, looking over at him as innocently as you can. He’s a little flushed; you’re a huge fan of that look on a man. “Do you ever read romance novels?”

“Uh, no. Not my genre.” He takes a sip of his drink, and you watch his mouth while he does.

“Not mine either. When you edit enough of them, they become wholly unsexy… and they never compare to real life.” You flick your eyes over his body, briefly but not subtly, and he gives you a glance back. Your heart beats a little faster in your chest. “So what do you like to read? Wait, may I guess?” you ask, setting a hand on his arm. He nods, and you carry on, leaning just a little closer. “So I’m going to guess you’re a fan of the classics, novels you’ve read a hundred times. I think you would tell me your favorite is To Kill a Mockingbird,” you say, tapping against his sleeve, “and maybe intellectually it is, but you actually feel more when you read Moby Dick. I bet your heart yearns for adventure—not that life as a crime solving FBI agent is boring, but it's all too real. Moby Dick is the perfect blend of adventure and fantasy for a man like you.”

“You’ve known me for all of ten minutes,” he says with a raised eyebrow, and you shrug and take a drink.

“True. But am I right? Or close?” He smiles, the first full, unguarded expression he’s given tonight, and you feel awesome for making that happen.

“My favorite book is Moby Dick. I make a point to read it at least twice a year. You’re good.”

“Thank you.” You pull back, take your hand off of his arm; you’ve laid the groundwork for touching, and he’ll have to make a move if he wants more. “People often tell you a lot they don’t intend to, and books are my thing, so it’s easy for me to connect the dots. I recommend books to people as a kind of party trick.” You stir your drink, and he shifts a little, sitting closer.

“Have you disappointed many people with your recommendations?”

“Oh, I make it a personal mission to never leave anyone disappointed,” you say, your voice low and sweet like honey. His eyes move to your mouth. You sweep your tongue over your bottom lip. “Derek said your friends are trying to get you to loosen up; can I ask why?” He flicks his eyes up to yours, frowns a little, like he’s not sure that’s something he’s ready to tell you; ultimately, he just sighs.

“I’ve been divorced for five years, alone for five years. They think it’s time I…” He trails off, shrugs.

“Get back in the saddle?” you offer, and he laughs lightly, agrees. “Is that something you’re interested in? You shouldn’t feel pressured into it if you’re not ready.” You might want to sleep with him so badly it’s sickening, but not at the expense of his well-being.

He exhales deeply and lifts his arm to rest it on the back of your chair; you want to smile, but the conversation doesn’t call for it, so you hold off.

“I think I’m ready, but how do you really know?” You turn toward him a little more, lean against his arm; it feels easy, comfortable, almost like a real date and not you flirting like your life depends on it and hoping to get a bite.

“I think you should wait to meet someone who makes you feel a spark, and then explore it. Maybe it burns hot, but doesn’t last. Maybe it’s a slow burn. Maybe it’s a bit of both. I think when you’re really ready to put yourself out there, you’ll know.” He holds your gaze, wets his lips, takes a breath.

“You’ve been flirting with me.” You do smile a little, then.

“Yes, Aaron, I have.”

“Did Derek put you up to it?”

“Absolutely not.” You touch his arm again, gentle, lean in close. “I’m genuinely interested in you. You’re everything I’m attracted to in a man.” His smile doesn’t touch his eyes.

“Old and uptight?”

“Older, and kind, and capable of having a conversation about more than just sports and money, and handsome. Very handsome.” You lift your fingers from his arm, brush them through his hair over his temple. “I feel a spark. Do you?”

“Yes,” he breathes, and when you set your hand on the table, he covers it carefully with his. His hand is big, warm, softer than you’d expected, and you’re met with the sudden urge to feel it all over your body. “I feel a spark.”

“Good. Do you want to come home with me tonight? No strings attached—just to get you back in the saddle,” you say with a tilt of your head, and he nods.

“I want to.” You’re certain that the smile that crosses your face is softer, inviting, but you get the feeling he won’t kiss you while his friends could be watching. You’re actually surprised he’s touching you so openly.

“Okay, so why don’t you give me a ride home? I was going to have to call an Uber, since my friend didn’t show up, but you’re a gentleman, aren’t you? You wouldn’t let me do that.” He catches on to what you’re saying, the excuse you’re giving him to give his friends, makes a noise of understanding.

“Of course. I wouldn’t rest not knowing you made it home safely.”

“I’m not sure how much rest you’ll be getting tonight,” you murmur, and you rest your free hand on his thigh under the table, squeeze a little. He’s very firm, and you kind of melt. “But that’s a very sweet sentiment, Aaron. Are you committed to staying here much longer?”

“Not at all. Would you like to leave now?” You hold his gaze for a moment, want to be really sure about this; you’re no expert on body language, but you’ve been here before, and he really does look less tense than when you first showed up, more comfortable and open. All really good signs.

“Yes, please.” He squeezes your hand, then stands, smooths out his jacket, and tells you he’ll be right back while he goes to say goodbye to his friends. You stand too, finish what’s left of your drink, and pull out your phone to text Jay.

Taking home the most incredible man. Guess I don’t need my wingwoman after all.

J: Tell grandpa I said he better treat you right.

Please. He’s not that old. If anything, you can call him daddy. :P

J: You can call him daddy. Have fun ;) The ride to your apartment starts out quiet, but you try to fill it by asking Aaron more about himself. You keep your hands on him while you chat, leaning as close to him as you can while wearing your seatbelt, running your hand up and down his leg, over his arm while he shifts gears. You know it’s turning you on, and you’re fairly certain it’s turning him on as well.

You learn more about his job, that he basically solves crimes by judging people, which is kind of funny; before that, he was a lawyer, which you can definitely see. He has one child, a daughter who’s upset with him because of the divorce (someone’s dad, check), and a brother who lives in New York, no living parents. It’s more information than you usually get out of someone you plan to sleep with, but you really do like him, and since he’s not the one night stand type, you think more conversation is the right way to go.

He asks about you too, about your family and your job and your lame friend who bailed on you, and when he arrives outside your building, parks in the lot, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean in closer, smoothing a hand over his waist.

“I’m really glad I met you tonight,” you breathe, looking up at him, and he puts his hand on your cheek and you meet for a slow, easy kiss. “Hmm. I knew you’d be good at that.”

“I knew you’d be good at that, too. You have the most beautiful lips.” He brushes his fingers over them, and you take his hand, bring two of them into your mouth to suck softly. His breath hitches, and you feel your panties getting damp. God, he’s gorgeous. “Let’s go inside,” he whispers, and you slip his fingers out, drop a hand to his lap where he’s—oh, so perfectly hard it’s unreal.

“We could get started out here, have a little adventure,” you say playfully, fully prepared for him to say he’d rather not, but he just licks his lips and looks at you like you’re going to be the death of him, but at least he’ll die happily. That’s another look you’re a huge fan of on an older man.

You undo his belt, his button and his zipper, pull his cock out of his pants; he’s of average length, thick, makes your mouth water, and you lean in to use that to your advantage, getting him wet with your saliva and then stroking him in your hand. You look up at his face, and he’s got his eyes closed, head back against the headrest—so fucking sexy. You reach your free hand under his shirt, where he’s hairy, strong, but a little soft, just the way you like it, and he opens his eyes and pulls you close for a kiss that’s a bit harder than the last.

“You’re absolutely perfect,” he sighs against your lips, and you press closer for another kiss. You almost regret the adventure comment now, because you want to undress him, and touch him, feel him all over, but you’ll just have to be patient. (That’s never been your strong suit.)

“Are you kidding? You are… everything. If I could build a dream man, he would literally be a copy of you.” He makes a sharp, self-deprecating sound, and you lean down to get him wetter, move your hand a little faster. “I’m completely serious. I’m a little upset I’ve been going to that bar for so long and our paths never crossed.” One of his hands moves to your hair, and he pulls you close for a kiss; he’s ready to come, you can tell, and you want him to more than anything, so you cover his hand with yours and dip your head, sucking his dick like you’re desperate for it. When it comes to Aaron, you’re kind of desperate for everything.

“Oh, god. That feels so good, baby.” You moan at the pet name—is there anything better in the world than an older man calling you baby? Maybe just Aaron specifically calling you baby—and he tightens his fingers in your hair while you glide over him, tight and wet, until he comes in your mouth.

You swallow it down, pull off breathless, and then swipe your tongue over him so he’s clean enough that you can tuck him back into his pants. You look up at him from his lap, and he’s panting too, rubs his fingers over your lips, your chin, down your throat. You’re desperately horny now, soaking wet, and when you shift to sit up, he catches you for a deep, steamy kiss, and that does nothing to help your situation.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and ugh, your heart flutters. Seriously, who created this man? He’s incredible. “Now let’s go inside so I can make you come, too.”

“Definitely,” you agree with a nod, and you kiss him once more before pulling back and climbing out of the car, straightening yourself up. He does the same, then walks over to you, takes your hand, and follows you into your apartment.

Sex with Aaron is… talk about adventure. He fucks like—well, like he hasn’t done it in over five years. As soon as you get inside the door, he gets on his knees, pulls your panties down, lifts your skirt up, and eats your pussy with such enthusiasm you come with your hands in his hair, rocking against his face, in less than three minutes. Seeing him down on the ground in the full suit, just going to town on you, is not an image you’ll soon forget, that’s for sure.

After that, the two of you stumble to your bedroom, hands all over each other, tugging at zippers and discarding clothes—he has you keep your shoes on, and that makes you feel slutty like a porn star, and super hot—and you kiss, touch, moving your hands all over each other's bodies until he’s hard again. You stay in missionary, and after he slips on a condom from your bedside table, he slides into you, kisses your lips and your neck and your shoulders while he rolls his hips against yours.

It’s slow and sensual at first, and you drag your nails lightly across his back, tilt your head when he nips at your throat.

“Aaron, oh. You feel so good,” you breathe, scraping your fingers through his hair, and his thrusts get a little deeper, his kisses a little rougher.

“You’re incredible. So gorgeous.” He moves a hand to your breast, massages it while your bodies work; you hitch your legs up higher, moan, and pull him closer, your hands on his body, and he fucks into you more frantically, humping against you hard, wildly. You’ve never really gotten fuck you like an animal, but that’s kind of what he’s doing, and you’re into it, clinging to him, pushing into his thrusts like it’s possible to take him deeper than you are now.

God, he’s going to spoil you, ruin you for all other men. You’re going to have your best sex at 28 and then be chasing this feeling the rest of your goddamn life. It’s both amazing and horribly unfair.

“Yes, Aaron, yeah. Fuck me hard, fuck me deep.” He groans, pounds inside you, moves his hand from your breast to the back of your neck and stares down into your eyes while he absolutely destroys you. You come clenching around him, pulling his hair and digging your nails into his shoulder, and his mouth comes crashing down for a kiss while he thrusts through it and then stutters, his orgasm right behind yours.

You sag against the pillow behind your head, and he puts his weight on you, hand still clamped around the nape of your neck, and breathes hot against your throat.

You stare up at the ceiling, catching your breath, and thank fucking god Jay stood you up tonight. Aaron is very sweet, kissing you and holding you, murmuring against your skin, and the two of you go to the bathroom, get cleaned up, and then raid your kitchen for snacks, talking easily and laughing. He doesn’t look like he’s about to bolt, which you’d been a little worried about; in fact, he actually suggests taking your snacks back to bed, jokes about not getting any crumbs on your white sheets. Never one to kick a man out abruptly after sex, and especially not a man like Aaron, you agree, and you end up in bed again, which means…

Another frantically torn condom wrapper later, and you’re on your stomach, your nipples rubbing against the sheets. Aaron’s hands are on your ass while you work yourself on his cock, rolling your body, moaning desperately like you aren’t already two orgasms deep; his dick hits just right, and between that and the nipple stimulation you’re coming fast, bucking hard against him so he’ll follow.

“Fuck, baby, coming already?” He tightens his grip, slams inside you, plants one hand on the bed to change his angle a bit. “Let’s try for another; your body is so perfect, built for sex, built for me.” You groan, roll your eyes back because his dirty talk is hitting the spot, and the two of you fuck together, noisy and eager and hot, until he shudders, squeezes your ass hard and starts to come.

You’re so close, right on the edge, and you sound wild because of it, your moans high, whimpering, your fingers digging into the sheets.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you beg, grinding against him, and he puts both hands hard on your hips, rails you into the bed.

“I’m not stopping until you come for me. Come for me,” he murmurs, and he wraps one hand around the front of your body, rubs your clit, and you climax, squeezing your eyes shut, seeing stars. You moan his name, drop your hand to cover his where it rests against your pussy, and this time when his body drapes across your back like a weighted blanket, you sigh and close your eyes.

He kisses your back and shoulders, runs his big hands over your hips and ass, then slides off and guides you to the edge of the bed, lifts you up and carries you to the bathroom. You think absently that you could get used to being treated this well, and you must say it, because he presses a kiss to your lips and whispers, “I will if you let me.”

There’s a little talk in bed, after you’re cleaned up and cozy beneath the comforter, about going on a real date; Aaron seems nervous, like he thinks you won’t go for it, that all you wanted was this night of sex. And yes, while that’s typically your MO, something about Aaron is different. He makes you want more, things like dates and picnics and sweet lovemaking at night and kisses—all the kisses, everywhere, all the time.

You ask him to stay, and he promises he will, and you fall asleep in his arms. It’s the best you’ve felt in a really long time.

You wake up to Aaron’s sleepy, handsome face, and you kiss and smile into each other’s lips, because last night was great, but this is even greater. Your plan is to take a shower together and then go out for breakfast, but there’s a knock at your door just as you’re planning to step in.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” you tell him with a kiss, and you pull on your robe and peer through the peephole, then pull the door open. “Well, well; now you decide to show up.”

Jay steps in with a box of doughnuts and two cups of coffee, looking properly shamed.

“I know, I’m a horrible friend. I broke the slut code: stay slutty, but never at the expense of your best girl.” You crack a smile, because you could never really be mad at her, but especially not after last night. You’re about to say that, but she looks over your shoulder at the clothes still strewn about your living room and grins. “Holy shit. Is your old man still here?”

“He’s not an old man, and yes, he’s in the shower, so shut up.” She shoves the doughnuts and coffee carrier into your hands and brushes past you, toward your bedroom, and you groan. “Jay, no, come on.”

“I just want to get a glimpse of him,” she says, peeking her head into your room. She sees more clothes, and the condom wrappers, looks back at you with a cocked eyebrow. “Okay, someone had a good time last night.”

“Yes, it was fucking incredible. He’s a sex god, I’m not even kidding. He ate my pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in months, then fucked me twice, so hard and sexy, and then he asked me if he could take me on a date, Jay.” You smile wide, can’t help it. “I really like him, so I actually owe you for not coming out last night.” She smiles back, pulls you close for a hug, and you step back with your hands on her shoulders. “So thank you, and thanks for coming to apologize, but can you please leave? I really don’t want to miss out on some potential good morning shower sex.”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s all from a place of love, and she turns to head out of your room.

“Okay, but only because cockblocking you would mean breaking the slut code again, and I can’t have my membership card revoked. I have a date with the almost frat boy again tonight.” She grins, and you shake your head, pull off your robe when you hear the door shut and head for the shower.

Good morning shower sex has never been so good. One month and twelve dates later, and you’re head over heels for Aaron. He is so sweet, and smart, and secretly funny, the perfect gentleman when you’re in public and an absolute manic in private, and you seriously could not have imagined a more perfect man.

Jay is maybe a little tired of hearing you talk about him.

You’re out for breakfast on a Saturday morning—Aaron is on a case in Indiana, or you’d probably be with him—and she sighs around a bite of french toast.

“I get it, he’s the best lay you’ve ever had in your life. He makes your pussy wet and your heart horny, or whatever. When do I get to meet the old man who’s got you wrapped around his big sexy fingers?”

“He’s supposed to be home tonight, maybe I’ll see if he’s feeling up to drinks?” Sometimes he’s really worn out after these cases, and you don’t blame him, but occasionally they must touch him in a way that makes him want to enjoy life, because you’ve had some nice dates the same day he gets back. You’ll ask, and if he’s not up for it, you’ll reschedule.

“Ooh, yes. I can’t wait to finally get a good look at the hunk who turned my maneater best friend into a monogamous whore.” You gasp, affronted, and she cackles, takes a sip of her iced coffee. Sometimes you can’t even remember why you’re friends—but she never fails to do something completely unexpected and sweet that reminds you eventually. “Hey, maybe now that you’re obsessed with this guy, you can finally meet my dad, since I don’t have to worry about you trying to suck his dick at first sight.”

You know that Jay’s relationship with her dad has been a little rough since her parents split up, and you’ve always thought that maybe you could get her to open up to him, to talk to him, if you could get to know him, but her fears about your taste for older men have always been hilariously real. As if you can’t control yourself; as if you’d ever actually date her dad.

“Well I’ll have to ask my old man; maybe he’s down for a threesome?” It’s her turn to act offended, and you laugh and send Aaron a text about this evening before you forget.

Can’t wait to meet the infamous Jay, he replies, and you won’t lie, you’re feeling really good about your two favorite people finally getting to know each other.

That night, you and Aaron beat Jay to the bar, because of course you do—that bitch is never on time for anything.

You’re feeling cute in a sexy turtleneck dress (the neck of which Aaron tugged down to place a hickey under when you rode him on the couch before coming here) and a set of earrings he bought you—you’re wearing a set of lingerie he bought you, too for later—and he looks gorgeous in a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

You can barely keep your hands off of him, squeezing his thigh, kissing his neck; you only give him an inch of space when he gets up to run to the restroom, and even then, the way he smiles and presses his lips to yours before he goes makes you want to cancel drinks and take him home so you can be alone.

But Jay asked to meet him, and you have been a little obsessed lately, so you want to do this and make her happy.

You look down at your phone, ready to hit her with some inflammatory where the fuck are you??? texts, when she drops into the seat Aaron had just vacated, breathless.

“Sorry, sorry. Traffic was really bad, and I got into this huge fight with my mom on the phone...” She pulls off her jacket, drapes it over the back of the seat.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, concerned. The two of them usually get along pretty well.

“Yeah, she’s just pissed because my dad has a new girlfriend—which is stupid, because she’s the one who wanted to divorce him, so why does she care? But anyway, I told her I’d meet her and be nice to her, because it’s important to him, and she expects me to take her side or something. I don’t know. Let’s just say I’m really glad I’m out for drinks with you and your old man so I can forget about my problems for a while.” She takes a deep breath for practically the first time since she started talking, then looks around, realizes it’s just the two of you. “Hey, where is he, anyway?”

“Restroom,” you say with a smile, but something more must creep onto your face, because she rolls her eyes playfully.

“And you didn’t follow him in there for a little stall action?”

“Ew, no. That’s more your speed than mine; we had sex before we came, anyway, look at this hickey.” You pull the neck of your dress down and she whistles, impressed.

“Congrats on having such good pussy, babe. I know you’re sickeningly obsessed with him, but it looks to me like he’s got it bad for you too.” You grin, instinctively want to gush over him, but you see him walking over out of the corner of your eye, so you hold off.

He’s frowning, though, and you’re not sure why.

“Julie?” Jay whips her head around at the sound of Aaron’s voice, and her eyes get wide.

“Dad? What are you…” You stand up abruptly, looking up at Aaron, and Jay stands too, looking between you, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I… We…” He swallows, looks at you like you’ve both made a terrible mistake. You’re surprised how much that look hurts, but you know you have to take care of Jay before you can feel sorry for yourself.

“Jay, listen to me, okay? I swear to god I didn’t know.” You’re begging, pleading with your eyes, your hands on her shoulders. “I did not know.” She shakes her head like it’s not making sense, but when she lets herself connect the dots, she brings up a hand to cover her mouth.

“Oh my god. Are you fucking kidding me?” She pulls away from you, looking at you like you punched her in the face. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Jay, I didn’t—”

“Julie,” Aaron says, reaching for her, but she steps back, palms up.

“I seriously can’t believe this. You two… After every joke we made about me keeping you away from him?” She looks at you like you betrayed her, and you exhale, shrug sadly.

“It’s not like I went looking for him, Jay. We just… found each other.” You don’t look at Aaron, because if the last month hasn’t meant the same things to him, you’ll have to be okay with that. “I know it’s shocking, and I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it feels like to find this out, this way.”

“You’re right, you can’t imagine. I just fought with my mom about my dad’s new girlfriend, and it’s-it’s you.” She laughs, humorless.

“You fought with your mom? When?” Aaron asks, crossing his arms, and it’s so clear how much he cares about Jay. Her eyes fly to his.

“On the fucking way here. She told me about your new slut girlfriend, and I was defending you! I told her I’d meet her if you asked me to, that I’d be nice because I know she’s important to you! And it’s you,” she practically spits, turning to you. “Such a whore that you’ll fuck anyone over forty who can still get it up, including my fucking father.” Her tone stings, and people are looking at the three of you, but you take a breath, remind yourself that she’s just angry right now, and she loves you, doesn’t mean that.

“Julie, that's enough. I’m taking you home and we can talk about this there.” Aaron steps past her, picks up her jacket, and glances over at you, but you’re collecting your things and and pulling up a rideshare app to get yourself the fuck out of there.

You head for the bathroom to wait it out until your ride comes, and you definitely don’t cry because the two people who bring you the most happiness in the world are gone and they barely even looked back. It’s five days before Jay shows up at your door with apology doughnuts and a bottle of rosé. You eat and drink and cry on each other, and then laugh at each other, and your heart feels a little healed by the end of it.

“I’m sorry I called you a whore. It’s just… what are the odds, after everything we said, that you would actually hook up with my fucking dad.” You laugh and take the last bite of your doughnut.

“You don’t think I was a little startled by that turn of events? I was as shocked as you. I knew he had a daughter around my age, but that’s not really what we talked about, you know?” She shoves half a doughnut in her mouth and cackles.

“You don’t talk a whole lot, from what I’ve gathered.”

“Didn’t,” you say, and your whole mood shifts. She looks confused. “We didn’t talk a whole lot. He hasn’t spoken to me since the night you found out.” She pulls out her phone, starts texting.

“Okay, I told him I was okay with you guys like, two days ago, so this probably means he’s spiraling. He tends to do that—get in his own head and beat himself up for things that aren’t his fault.” She looks up from her phone, gives you a soft smile. “Will you forgive me if I tell you he’s moping at home right now, and that I know he’ll be happy to see you?” You roll your eyes a little.

“I already forgive you, Jay, but if he hasn’t called me, maybe there’s a reason. Maybe he was looking for an out, and I gave him one, or maybe he can’t feel the same way I do because he knows we’re friends.”

“He told my mom about you, remember? He wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t serious about you, and I don’t think he’d be acting this emo if he didn’t have feelings for you.” She reaches out, covers your hands with hers. “I’m really, really sorry I fucked this up for you guys. Weirdness aside, I know what good people you both are, and I hate that you were happy and I took that from you guys. I’m 100% supportive of you being my future step-mom,” she says with a grin, and you roll your eyes again and give her a hug and then jump up to get a shower.

You’re going to go get your old man.

When you knock on Aaron’s door an hour later, he looks surprised to see you.

“I thought you’d be Julie,” he says softly, and you sigh.

“I know. She sent me. She wants us to get our heads out of our asses, but I told her I don’t know where your head is, because we haven’t spoken.” Seeing him makes you feel a little better, because he does look like he may have been moping the last few days, so that must mean the spark is still there, right? “If you want me to leave, just tell me, and I’ll go; I’ll get out of your life and you can pretend it was just a casual thing, if that’s what you want.” Your heart aches at the thought, but you’d understand, if being his daughter’s best friend is an obstacle he can’t overcome.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says after a long, painfully drawn out moment. “I don’t want you to ever leave. And I could never pretend this was casual.” He steps forward—so handsome in a t-shirt and jeans it makes you long to press kisses all over his face, to hold him and be held by him—and his eyes are trained on yours. “I know nothing about us is conventional, but it doesn’t matter to me if it doesn’t matter to you. I want to be with you.”

You take a deep, calming breath, exhale and nod. Your hands ache to reach out and touch him.

“I want to be with you, but only if you can promise that if something comes up with Jay—Julie—we can figure it out together. I don’t ever want to feel the way I felt the other night, and while I get that you had to take care of your daughter, and I’m glad you two talked things out, I can’t just be abandoned if things get weird.” You approach him, wrap your arms around him, and sigh. He hugs you so tightly, rests his cheek against the top of your head.

“I promise. I know I could have handled that better, but the situation was just so...”

“I know, that’s okay. Family comes first—but just so you know, she gave me her full support to campaign to become her new step-mom,” you say, pulling back with a teasing smile, and he shakes his head and grins. “So, one last question: Are you ready to get back in the saddle, Aaron?” He leans in and kisses you so hard you’re breathless, weaves his fingers into your hair.

“Sounds like my kind of adventure.” Message sent with high importance: Do not disturb! Your dad’s indecent.

J: Gross. Thanks for the warning, mom.

That’s step-mom, to you. Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

[tenelkadjowrites]

Addicting Kitten Part Three - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

This is an Ateez fic.

PART ONE HERE. PART TWO HERE. PART FOUR HERE.

Summary: After an intense face time call, Seonghwa has invited you over to stay the night. Excited but extremely nervous, you wonder how the night is going to play out - and what you will learn about him.

Genre and warnings:  smut. goth corrupter seonghwa with innocent reader. fem pronouns. reader is called “kitten”. dirty talk. sex toys. oral sex. messy blowjob. squirting. cumshot. unprotected sex. if i missed anything, lemme know.

Word count: 6,130.

Tag list: @multistan-net - @chronosavrus - @gyubaby - @ayoo-bangtan - @sktbzc0re - @lizsvcks - @xduygu-arsx - @raysanshine - @jucobego - @park-simphwa

this fic is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

           Exhaling slowly, you run your fingers over your dress, staring at Seonghwa’s door. Your stomach is full of butterflies, your overnight bag hanging off your shoulder. The last day has felt endless. The only thing you could think about was coming over here tonight. But now that you are in front of Seonghwa’s apartment, your nerves are getting the best of you.

           You wonder if you are overdressed. Seonghwa has remarked about your appearance before, never in the negative, always as if he secretly likes how vastly different the two of you look. Perhaps you had that in mind when you put your outfit together. A pale pink tennis skirt with a white button up paired with soft purple stockings…now you worry it is too innocent as if you are playing a part. Maybe what you wore didn’t matter at all because Seonghwa was going to fuck the good out of you as he worded it last night.

           Steeling yourself, you knock on the door. A few seconds later, it opens and Seonghwa stands in front of you.

           He is in a pair of black jeans and a baggy long sleeved black shirt, the most casual you have ever seen him. But he still has smudged eyeliner, black eyeshadow and dark red lipstick on. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him.

           Even though it has been less than twenty-four hours since the face cam stuff the other night, it has been a little over a week since seeing Seonghwa in person. Staring at him now, you forgot how imposing he looks…and how attractive too.

           His eyes rake up your body, face impassive. You swallow, feeling your usual shyness returning full force. Without speaking, Seonghwa moves to the side to let you inside.

           You walk past him, standing awkwardly in the living room. Suddenly, you worry that maybe he regrets asking you over and is going to tell you to go home. Self-consciously, you look down at your shoes as Seonghwa closes the door.

           Then, to your surprise, Seonghwa’s arms slink around your waist from behind, bending slightly so that his chin rests on your shoulder, lips near your ear. “Kitten,” he whispers, the word so soft that you shiver. He brushes your hair behind your ear and kisses you once, twice, three times down your neck.

           Your head goes dizzy at how close Seonghwa suddenly is, the relief that he wants you here breaking the anxiety in your chest. You like how he calls you kitten, marvel at the immediate effect he has on you by just holding your waist, kissing your neck.

           “Did you go out of your way to pick an outfit that would absolutely drive me crazy?” Seonghwa kisses your neck lightly as he speaks, “This cute little outfit with the stockings…you’re killing me.”

           “You don’t think it’s too much?” You wonder aloud.

           “No, kitten, I think I’ll even keep the stockings on you when we fuck.” His voice is low in your ear, and you can already feel your body responding to Seonghwa’s words.

           Your cheeks flush at what he is saying. You still cannot believe that you lied to your roommate and told them you were going over to your parents for the night, lied to your friends that you had a headache and were going to take it easy so they wouldn’t find it strange if you didn’t reply to any messages. This isn’t typical behavior for you.

           “I’ll take your bag,” Seonghwa murmurs and you hand it to him. Packing had taken you way too long. What did someone bring in a situation like this? Seonghwa was not your boyfriend so it wasn’t as if you were spending the night romantically.

           You might be innocent with sex but that didn’t mean you were stupid. Seonghwa clearly loved sex, and you assumed he was getting off on showing you the ropes. Once you learned the ropes, was he going to toss you to the side like the other people he engaged with? Worrying about that won’t do me any good, you think, I shouldn’t be dwelling on the end of things when it is only just starting.

           “I got you something,” Seonghwa says, standing in the doorway of his room, motioning for you to follow.

           “A gift?” You hesitate for a moment before trailing after him, going into his room for the first time.

           Seonghwa puts your bag in the corner as you take in the bedroom. Unlike the main space, this room is a bit tidier. There is a desk with a stack of books, posters of random bands the walls, a dresser with one drawer slightly open, clothes poking out. But nothing is scattered on the floor, and a TV rests on top of the dresser. The closet is open, showing nothing but black and red clothes inside. There is a bookshelf shoved in the corner, overflowing with even more books – giant ones about random points in history, which was the last thing you were expecting.

           “You read a lot?” You ask, trying to picture Seonghwa sitting down and focusing on a book.

           “Don’t look so surprised.” He remarks, plopping down at the edge of the bed, taking a box off the night table and putting it in his lap, “Sit next to me.” He pats the space beside him.

           You cross the small space, sitting down. Seonghwa smells faintly of cigarettes, as usual, but his hair is damp from a shower and you can smell clean soap too. He must’ve done his makeup before I came over, you realize and wonder if he self-conscious without it on. It feels strange to think Seonghwa would be self-conscious about anything.

           He hands you the box which you open carefully, staring at what is inside. Then you glance at him, cheeks burning.

           “Did you run out and get this today?” You ask, incredulously.

           “I had to rectify it immediately.” Seonghwa replies seriously, as if the situation was that dire.

           You look back down at the vibrator in the box. The idea of Seonghwa picking this out, just casually buying a vibrator for you all because you didn’t have one…

           He leans over, his fingers trailing along your wrist as he speaks, “I’ll show you how to use it.”

           Your heart is pounding very quickly now, too tongue tied to reply.

           Seonghwa brushes your hair back over your shoulder, the touch making your scalp tingle. “Will you let me, kitten?”

           You look at his face, somehow knowing that if you said no, you didn’t want to do this after all, Seonghwa would drop it. There is something gentle in his expression that takes you aback, as if the intimidating front he puts on is gone.

           You aren’t sure what exactly overtakes you but instead of replying, you lean forward and bring your lips against his. Seonghwa goes still for a moment in surprise but his hand comes to the back of your neck and he is kissing you urgently. His tongue is against yours; he groans softly in your mouth which only makes you want him more. It is only now that it hits you how long this week has been without having him.

           The kiss breaks. Seonghwa’s lipstick is smudged, and you know that it must be on your lips too which is exactly what you wanted. Breathlessly, he brings his hands up to the buttons on your shirt, undoing half of them so that your bra is exposed.

           When you go to undo the rest of them, he gently takes your hand, shaking his head, “No, kitten, I wanna make sure you look like a slut as I do this.”

           He has you lay down against the pillows, hiking your skirt up around your waist. You are just wearing simple white underwear which Seonghwa tugs down.

           “I’m gonna keep these too,” He says as he removes them.

           “Seonghwa, I’m not gonna have any pairs left if you keep taking them.” You point out although you secretly like that he is taking another one.

           “That would be truly horrible,” He deadpans, a smirk tugging on his lips.

           Blushing, you watch as Seonghwa tosses your underwear off the bed, his hands running up the length of your stockings, coming to the top of them, trailing his fingers along the lace. “These fucking stockings…” He mumbles as he does so.

           His hands grip your thighs, opening your legs slowly. He brings your knees up, spreading you out in front of him. Being this open and exposed is making you feel extremely shy, and you can’t help but hide your face in your hands, trying to calm down.

           “Before we do anything else,” Seonghwa says quietly, “I need to taste you again, kitten.”

           You nod, your face still covered. Seonghwa yanks you forward, laying flat on his stomach, bringing his face down. His tongue immediately drags up along your slit before finding your hole, probing it eagerly. He groans and it is that sound that propels you to lower your hands to look at him down there.

           From this angle, you can see his eyes are closed, his face pressed against your cunt. His fingers grip your thighs, thumbs grazing against the fabric of your stockings as if just touching them turns him on. Seonghwa eats your pussy as if he is going to die without it, although he makes sure to avoid ever touching your clit.

           “Fuck, I could do this all night,” His words are muffled but you can hear the desperation, “You taste so fucking good.”

           With another groan, he pulls away from your pussy as if it pains him, grabbing the vibrator out of the box. He sits up, yanking his shirt off. You know you are staring but can’t help it – Seonghwa looks so good like that, with his jeans riding low on his hips and those hard abs of his.

           “Kitten, you’re already looking like a slut with your tits smooshed together in your bra like that, your little pussy all wet and those stockings on,” Seonghwa’s voice is hoarse, “Are you ready for your gift?”

           “I’m ready,” You whisper.

           Seonghwa turns on the vibrator to the lowest setting, gently brushing it against your clit which makes you jump. He smirks a little, pressing it against your nub completely. Your eyes widen in surprise, fingers digging into the bedsheets, letting out a whimper.

           “Feel good, kitten?” He asks although he knows the answer just by your reaction.

           “S-Seonghwa,” You gasp, your hands grabbing onto the blanket.

           His free hand goes to your knees which have come together reflexively from the vibrator’s intensity, forcing them apart again. The entire time the vibrator is against your nub, sending waves of pleasure through you. Your head rolls back against the pillows, unable to stop yourself from groaning, chest rising and falling quickly.

           “Oh, kitten, you look delicious,” Seonghwa says as he turns the vibrator up to the next speed, making you wiggle around even more, “Such a pretty slut…you’re so sensitive too, one of the many things I like about you.”

           Your breathing is ragged, distantly wondering what else he likes about you but too focused on your pleasure to ask. This is much different from all the other times you masturbated on your own. It is like every nerve in your body is alight with something indescribable – you just want more of it.

           Seonghwa keeps speaking as though he has figured out that you like hearing him talk filthy, “Kitten, did you tell anyone you were coming here? Do any of your friends know scary, mean Seonghwa is doing all these things to you? No, I don’t think you told any of them. I think you get off on doing all these things in secret, being a nasty slut with me. Tell me.”

           You gasp out, “No one knows, Seonghwa.”

           “Knows what?” He presses.

           “T-they don’t know I’m here; they don’t know I’m doing these things with you!” You groan.

           He flicks the vibrator up another speed and you moan so loudly that you wonder if neighbors could hear. Your thighs are shaking, eyes fluttering closed, the pressure down below growing so intense – way more intense than you’ve experienced – building so much –

           With a moan of Seonghwa’s name, you are climaxing. But this orgasm feels different…almost as if you are peeing somehow, sudden warmth against your thighs. The pleasure is too intense for you to be able to stop. All you can do is ride it out, panting, whimpering, groaning, becoming a total mess as the orgasm overtakes you.

           A few seconds after your climax finishes, you start to come back to your senses, opening your eyes to look bashfully at Seonghwa. But he is looking at you wide eyed with a giant grin on his face.

           “W-what?” You ask nervously.

           “Do you typically do that, kitten?”

           “Do what?”

           His grin deepens, “Squirt. Do you usually squirt?”

           “Do I what?” You squeak out, sounding like a broken record.

           He motions to the giant damp stain on the bed, to his wet abdomen. You can only stare, feeling mortified. You think you have heard of squirting in passing but never in your life…you didn’t even think you could do such a thing…

           “Oh my god,” You say quickly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make such a mess,” You close your legs quickly, wiggling your skirt down.

           But Seonghwa brushes your hands away from your skirt, opening your legs again, lowering his mouth to your cunt, working you over with his tongue to clean you up. He avoids your clit because it is too sensitive, but his tongue drags across your thighs, down your slit, back into your hole eagerly.

           When he finishes, he looks up at you from in between your legs, “Kitten, promise me next time you’ll squirt on my face.”

           “S-seriously?” You stammer, blushing deeply.

           “It’s now my mission to eat your cunt so well you squirt. I don’t want a toy outperforming me.”

           Your anxiety and embarrassment about squirting is fading due to Seonghwa’s actions and words. Somehow, he always knows what to say to make you feel comfortable. Shyly, you get to your knees, scooching closer to him on the bed, your fingers resting on the top of his jeans before moving across his abs. The muscles are hard underneath your fingertips.

           “Seonghwa,” You make yourself look up at him.

           He is staring at you quietly. You think about a week ago when he stepped under the streetlight. You thought he was beautiful but unapproachable. Now, tonight with that jawline and those sharp cheekbones, messy red hair and smudged makeup, he doesn’t seem that intimidating anymore for some reason.

           A week ago, Seonghwa seemed to want to get you into the apartment just to see if he could have a chance at corrupting the innocent looking woman he saw at the club. But between last night and now, it feels different somehow…more like he wants to show you how good it can be, to not offer any judgement at all while you explore.

           You are both on your knees, Seonghwa’s arm curling around your waist, his other hand coming up to undo the rest of the buttons on your shirt.

           “What is it, kitten?” He says quietly, his hand traveling to the back of your bra, undoing the hooks deftly with his fingers. He tugs it off you, letting it fall to the bed, leaving you topless.

           “I was wondering if I could suck your cock,” You blush hard as you ask, not used to talking like this, “Would you help me? I haven’t…” You trail off.

           He idly cups one of your tits, his thumb brushing across your nipple, “You nervous, kitten?”

           “Yes,” You admit, “I want…I want to make you feel good. Like you do for me.”

           Something flickers across Seonghwa’s face. It is so slight that you might have missed it if you weren’t looking at him so intently. Before you can figure it out, he leans down and kisses you.

           This kiss definitely feels different. It is softer, starting off slowly before deepening, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. It makes you feel warm all over. The kiss seems almost…romantic. Which is foolish to think, and you banish the thought immediately. Seonghwa doesn’t do romance, doesn’t do dating or relationships. To start thinking otherwise would be silly on your part. You might be naïve sexually, but you don’t want to be a total fool.

           When it ends, Seonghwa finishes undressing, laying on his back. His cock is rock hard, flat against his stomach. You are a little intimidated because it is big and thick. All you are wearing now is your skirt and stockings.

           Gingerly, you wrap your hand around his girth, feeling how warm and hard it is against the palm.

           “Spit on it, kitten,” Seonghwa says, “I like it messy so spit a lot.” When you do, he gives a small shake of his head, “Messier. I want your spit and drool all over my cock.”

           You spit more, pumping his cock slowly to get it covered. Still you keep spitting, trying to make it messy for him. But somehow, you don’t think it is enough. That’s when you open your mouth and start to drool on it, allowing it to drip off your lips onto the head of his cock. Seonghwa makes a small noise in the back of his throat as you do so.

           “Look up at me,” When you do, the drool is still running onto his cock, Seonghwa says, “You look perfect like that.”

           A blush crosses your cheeks, and you look down at his cock. It seems to be quite messy now, your drool having run down all over it, along his head, down his balls. Unable to wait any longer, you bring your mouth down and wrap your lips around the tip, running your tongue across it. You can taste his precum.

           “Play with my balls while you do that,” Seonghwa instructs, “Make a mess, kitten, I like messes…don’t get shy on me.”

           You think about when you squirted and how gleeful he looked, the way he eats your pussy as if his life depends on it – yes, you were starting to understand what Seonghwa was into.

           Spurred on by Seonghwa’s words, you take more of him in your mouth, fondling his balls gently as you do so. With your mouth open wider, you make no attempt to be neat and tidy, allowing your drool and spit to mingle with his precum. You start to bob your head on his cock, stretching your mouth out around it, curious to see how much you can take.

           Seonghwa groans then, “Fuck, kitten,” His voice is tense, “You really never sucked cock before?”

           He falls out of your mouth with a soft pop, sticky strands of precum connecting from your lips to the tip of his cock, a dollop of drool hanging off your bottom lip. Seonghwa is looking at you with an expression you cannot read.

           “No, am I doing badly?” You ask, worried that maybe you have made a mistake somewhere.

           “What? No,” He sounds a little incredulous at your question, “No, kitten, you might be a natural at this.”

           You feel pleased, as if you passed a test, bringing your lips back down to rub across the tip of his cock, “Really?” You hum pleasantly, tongue flicking out across the head.

           “I think you were made to suck my cock,” He replies – you like that he says his cock…for some reason, it gives you a thrill, “And I was right…you do look cute with it stuffed in your mouth.”

           Taking him back in between your lips, your tongue pressing against the underside of his shaft, your cheeks hollow as you suck him, making sure to be as messy as you can. Spit bubbles at the corners of your mouth, drool running down his shaft, and each time you bring your head up, there’s a lewd slurping noise which seems to drive Seonghwa crazy.

           At one point, he groans loudly, his hand coming to your hair, wrapping his long fingers around some of the locks. But he doesn’t force your head down or try to control what you’re doing. For some reason, you get the sense that Seonghwa is restraining himself, not wanting to do too much your first time. You appreciate it but it makes you work even harder, eager to get more reactions out of him.

           Between the mess, the noises your mouth makes as it sucks, and the sight of you doing this, Seonghwa is panting your name, clearly close to finishing.

           “Kitten, I’m gonna cum,” His voice is paper thin, hardly able to hold back, “W-wherever you want.”

           Your mind flashes back to the face time call and the way Seonghwa’s cum splashed all over his stomach and hand. You want it on your body too. Pulling Seonghwa out of your mouth, you bring your tits close and with a groan, he is climaxing.

           The cum spurts from his cock, landing across your tits. There is so much of it, covering your tits in a hot load, making a giant mess on you. With one finger, you scoop some up, curious to try it. It is salty but you like the taste and scoop up more. Seonghwa’s head has rolled back, eyes closed tightly as he cums.

           When he finally opens his eyes and looks down, you are sucking on one of your fingers, his load coating your tits, your lips covered in drool, cum and spit.

           “I think I made a mess,” You say and before you can stop yourself, you giggle.

           Seonghwa grabs you then, pulling you against him, not caring that you are covered in spit and cum. His lips crush against yours, hands in your hair, tugging on it desperately. You gasp against his mouth, his tongue slipping inside. The kiss is urgent in a way it hadn’t been before. Clinging to him, you return the kiss –

           His phone goes off, loudly chiming on the night table, startling you. A flash of irritation crosses his face, breaking the kiss to turn slightly to see who it is. A woman’s name is blinking across the screen and your stomach swoops. But Seonghwa only scowls, leaning over and hitting ignore.

           It immediately rings again before he could kiss you. This time, Seonghwa flips over, snatching his phone off the table, hitting ignore once more and turning the phone off completely. The screen goes dark as he puts it back on the table.

           It shouldn’t bother you that a woman is calling him. You knew his reputation before you started this. Even so, a small blossom of anxiety blooms in your chest. All these women and every one of them knows more about sex than you. Eventually, the novelty of being with someone like you will fade.

           He turns to look at you, studying your face. You wonder if he knows what you were thinking and are embarrassed if he does. Seonghwa isn’t the type to be tied down and you weren’t going to try to force that. The only thing between the two of you is sex.

           “They don’t matter,” Seonghwa says unexpectedly, “Don’t get in your head about it.”

           “I wasn’t,” You lie quickly, surprised at his words.

           His arms circle around your waist, his lips trailing across your neck, biting on your earlobe gently. One hand travels down to your ass where he squeezes hard.

           “Did I make you feel good?” You whisper as Seonghwa’s lips leave tiny kisses along your cheeks, over your nose.

           “Kitten, I wish you could suck my cock every morning like that. Would make getting up worth it if I got to see your pretty face down there.”

           His lips graze yours, making his way down the other cheek, your neck and shoulders. As he does so, you ask, “Seonghwa, what do you do outside of going to the club?”

           He stops, surprised, pulling away to look at your face, “What?”

           “The books on your shelf. They are huge. Like…tomes. And they’re all history books. Do you find that interesting?”

           “Kitten, when the hell did you find the time to stare at my bookshelf during what we were doing?” Seonghwa sounds slightly exasperated.

           “When I first came in.” You aren’t sure why you are even bringing this up – just curiosity becoming too strong, you suppose.

           He props himself up on one elbow, studying your face. “I like reading when I’m not at work or the club. I would go back to school but…”

           “But what?” You prompt.

           “Nothing, I’m just too old to go back. It would be embarrassing.”

           “Old?” You can only stare at him, “Seonghwa, that’s ridiculous. Also, no one is too old to go back to school. If you’re interested in that stuff, you should go back.”

           “I already dropped out once a few years ago. I don’t want to go back and fuck it up again,” His finger is tracing designs against the blanket, almost as if he is nervous.

           “You should go back if you really want to. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

           Seonghwa’s gaze softens slightly, his bottom lip jutting out for a moment before he clamps down on it hard with his teeth. “C’mere.” is all he says.

           His hand grabs your waist and Seonghwa rolls on top, propping himself up to look down at you. His hair frames his face, and you fight the urge to push it back behind his ear.

           You can feel him growing hard against your thigh as he says, “Kitten, can I fuck you now? I don’t think I can wait any longer. I want to have your cunt wrapped around my cock. This is by far the longest I’ve waited to fuck someone and I think I’ve hit my limit,” His fingers find your skirt, tugging it off your legs…but true to his earlier word, Seonghwa leaves the stockings on, “Just one thing I need to do first.”

           “What?” You wonder.

           Seonghwa slides off you, gently pushing you onto your side. Then he brings his face down to your ass, biting on your cheeks hard. You yelp a little in surprise as Seonghwa adjusts to being back on top of you.

           “Wanted to do that since last night.” He admits, his hard cock pressing against your pussy.

           “Will you be gentle?” You ask, nervous that he might hurt you because he is bigger than the last person you were with.

           Seonghwa grips his cock, rubbing the tip up along your pussy lips, seemingly entranced by the sight, “We’ll go at your pace,” He says and then you experience it again – that safe feeling that he brings to you.

           Your hands brush against his chest nervously, legs wrapping around his waist. The head of his cock presses against your hole and he begins to press inside you. Very slowly, Seonghwa moves his hips, entering you inch by inch. Your pussy stretches out a little as you try to take him.

           “Does it hurt?” He asks.

           “N-no…feels good,” You whisper.

           Seonghwa curls his body around yours so that he is pressing completely against you, his lips brushing across your collarbone towards your neck. His tongue drags across your skin as his cock slides deeper inside your wet hole.

           Eyes fluttering closed, you sigh softly, head going blank, only focusing on Seonghwa in you. His tongue licks your neck, up along your jaw, finding your lips, slipping past them to kiss you. You return the kiss eagerly as Seonghwa slowly moves his hips.

           He groans in your mouth, kiss breaking, but each word he speaks brushes against your lips, “I love your tight little hole, kitten…you feel so good wrapped around my cock. Do you like it?”

            “Y-yes, Seonghwa, don’t stop, please,” Your voice comes out pleading and Seonghwa begins to pick up his pace a little when he hears it.

           “Don’t worry, kitten, wouldn’t dream of it,” His lips are pressing against your ear, your arms wrapping around his neck so that you can cling to him as he thrusts into you, “Wanted this too long to stop now…” He grunts with a harder thrust, driving a moan out of you, “Walking around the club in those cute fucking outfits,” Another hard pump, his lips against your neck, “The only one in your group to never look at me twice, always skittering off if I came near.”

           You gasp as Seonghwa begins to pick up the pace. Each thrust smacks his balls against you, and your pussy is so wet that you can hear it each time he moves his hips. The pleasure is amazing, but his words catch your attention.

           “You’re a-ah…a little scary, Seonghwa,” You manage to say in between his pumping, clinging to him as he fucks you, trying to explain why you would flee if he came near.

           You can feel his smile against your skin, “Am I still scary, kitten?” His breathing is ragged in your ear.

           “No,” You whimper which only makes him fuck you harder.

           The next kiss is messy, all teeth and desperation, as Seonghwa fucks you into the mattress. Each jerk of his hips rams his cock deep in your cunt, pulling all the way out only to slam back in. You hold onto him, burying your face in his neck, your moans muffled.

           “Gonna make you cum,” He growls, “I’m not fucking you and not making you cum.” The words sound like a promise; he clearly remembers when you admitted that you haven’t cum during sex before.

           Gripping your waist, he rolls you on top of him. The movement is so sudden that you gasp. But Seonghwa holds your waist tightly in place, his fingers digging into your skin as he rams his cock up inside you.

           Surprised, you fall forward against his chest. Seonghwa moves his hands to your ass, gripping it hard, jack hammering his cock into your cunt. The sensation is insane; if the vibrator was intense in way one, this is in a whole other. The speed at which he fucks you is hitting your sweet spot, and you are begging him not to stop, knowing that you are going to cum without him even touching your clit because of the speed and position.

           To Seonghwa’s credit, he doesn’t slow his pace at all, gritting his teeth as he slams into your pussy. The pleasure mounts and you can’t even speak anymore, garbled words of pleasure tumbling from your lips as your pussy clenches around his girth.

           A second later, you are cumming, hips bucking down against his cock, thighs shaking, knowing dimly that you are making an incredible amount of noise and the neighbors most certainly hear you.

           Seonghwa slows his pace as you cum, rolling back on top of you, cock still buried inside your pussy. He keeps fucking you, determined to finish as well, grunting hard with each pump of his hips.

           Your hands snake down his waist, trying to push him inside you more, “Seonghwa, cum in me,” You beg, “Please.”

           “Fuck, kitten, I’ll fill up your sweet cunt,” He thrusts hard and deep one final time, groaning your name and then he is cumming.

           You can feel Seonghwa spilling inside of you, coating your walls with another load of hot cum. Your pussy milks it out of him, squeezing hard to make sure every drop is inside. Breathing heavily, Seonghwa gently pulls out of you, collapsing on the bed. You can feel his seed leaking out of you, secretly liking it.

           “You okay?” Seonghwa asks in between gasps.

           “Yes,” You say and swallow hard, “Thirsty.”

           Seonghwa props himself up, “I’ll get water.”

           You want to tell him he doesn’t have to do that but when he stands up, you are distracted by how nice his ass is, watching him leave the bedroom. Closing your eyes, you think about everything you did tonight, how wildly out of character you were and how much you loved it.

           “Here, kitten,” Seonghwa breaks your thoughts, getting back on the bed, handing you a cold bottle of water.

           Sitting up a little, realizing how completely sticky you are from all the cum on your body and inside your cunt, you guzzle about half the bottle. Your pussy is a little sore from taking Seonghwa’s cock but it is the good kind of sore.

           You hand the rest of the bottle to Seonghwa who finishes it off and asks, “Tired, kitten?”

           You nod, plopping back down on the bed, hardly able to speak. He turns the night table lamp off, leaving the two of you in complete darkness. You don’t even know the time.

           You wonder what happens now. Do you just roll on your side and fall asleep? Seonghwa doesn’t seem like he would want to cuddle or whatever you’re supposed to do after fucking like that.

           Your thoughts are interrupted by Seonghwa turning onto his side, trailing his fingers along your arm. The touch makes your scalp tingle.

           “Did you have a good time tonight?” His voice has dropped to a whisper, as if turning off the lights signaled that was now the best way to communicate.

           You tilt your face to look at him but it is in shadow, “It was amazing. Was I okay?”

           “Kitten, you were much better than okay.” His voice sounds sleepy now, fingers slowing against your arm, “Lemme do this to you every day.”

           “Won’t you get bored?” You shouldn’t ask something like that but cannot help yourself.

           Sleepily, Seonghwa goes, “Bored? No, kitten. Not with you.”

           Your heart might burst. You close your eyes, but another thought strikes you. “Seonghwa?”

           “Hmm?”

           “You really shouldn’t fall asleep in your makeup. It’s bad for your skin.”

           At this, Seonghwa actually laughs. You have never heard him laugh before. The laughter is pleasant; you think it sounds good on him.

           “I’m too lazy to get up again, kitten.”

           “I’ll do it for you,” You force yourself to sit up, “Is your makeup remover in your bathroom?”

           “The makeup wipes are on the counter.”

           “Seonghwa, those aren’t good for the environment.”

           He starts laughing again, harder this time, turning back on the lamp. His face is crinkled up as he laughs, eyes closed, and you catch yourself thinking he looks cute and utterly unlike himself.

           “I don’t know what it is so funny,” You remark primly as you slide off the bed, opening the bathroom door.

           Seonghwa is still laughing as you step inside the bathroom which is even more organized and tidy than the bedroom. You find the makeup wipes, catching yourself in the mirror. It is dim in the bathroom; the only source of light is from the lamp in the bedroom spilling across the floor. But even in the muted lights, it is apparent you have just been fucking your brains out. Your hair is a mess, skin flushed, lips swollen and smeared in Seonghwa’s lipstick, still wearing your stockings. You don’t look like yourself at all. He really did fuck the good out of me, you think.

           When you get back into bed, Seonghwa still looks amused. “You ever fall asleep in your makeup, kitten?”

           “No way.” You retort, taking out a makeup wipe, “Okay, close your eyes.”

           Seonghwa is now on his back, laying down, head against the pillows and he closes his eyes. You start to remove his makeup, gently wiping clean his heavy eye makeup. Seonghwa doesn’t speak during this, and you do it quietly. Sometimes, you can hear a car drive past the apartment complex blaring music and it is strangely comforting. When you finish with his eyes, you make sure the rest of his face is bare, tossing the wipes into the tiny garbage bin next to the bed.

           “There, all done.”

           Seonghwa opens his eyes and with a jolt, you realize this is the first time you have seen him without makeup on. He looks a lot less intimidating now, handsome in a completely different way, softer somehow. He is studying your face, and you wonder what he is thinking. It is impossible to tell but he seems subdued.

           “Thank you, kitten.” Seonghwa finally murmurs, tilting his face upwards to kiss you before turning the light back off.

           His arms wrap around your waist when you return the kiss, pulling you against him. You snuggle down against Seonghwa, your head resting on his chest. He presses his lips against the top of your head softly.

           It doesn’t take long to fall asleep like that – wrapped up in Seonghwa, hearing his steady breathing and his heart beating underneath you.

PART FOUR HERE.

[clonecyare]

hey i saw your spicy asks!! can i get 39, 29, and 68 with a fem!reader and Hunter? i love your stuff keep up the great work!

Thank you anon, I really appreciate that! I had a blast trying to work all these prompts into one drabble! 😁

As Many Times As Me

Prompts: “Enough, please, I can’t take anymore!”, “Come one more time for me, I know you’ve got it in you.”, and “Shh, just look at me, baby.”

Summary: Hunter proves a point.

Pairing: Hunter x fem!reader

Tags: established relationship, pure filth tbh, teasing, overstimulation, toys, a little dom!hunter

Word Count: 963

A/N: This is nearly 1k words of pure filth, enjoy

|| Masterlist || Tag list form ||

----

Your eyes screwed shut and your head tipped back to the ceiling, you wondered if this was what finally killed you.

Your Force-forsaken, smug bastard of a lover.

“Now now mesh’la. Look at me, not the ceiling.”

The tattooed sergeant ordered lightly, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilting your head down.

You whine pathetically and obediently opened your eyes, the pale blue of your irises almost completely eclipsed by the darkness of your blown pupils.

“Good girl.”

He purred wickedly, pressing the tip of the small vibrator against your swollen, slick clit once more.

“See how nice I can be when you just behave?”

He smiled down at you smugly as he leaned down to trail his tongue through the remnants of your previous 3 orgasms smeared against your thighs. His other hand inched ever closer to his prize, eyes dark with mischief as he held your gaze, the intensity of it pinning you to the spot.

You watched him with disbelieving eyes, thighs shaking under his touch. He just grinned as his right hand pressed the vibrator down harder against your clit, starting to grind it in slow, torturous circles.

His other hand was busy too, slapping a thick silicone toy lewdly against your overused cunt.

The obscene, wet sounds alone were enough to have your walls clenching around nothing as you whined his name loudly.

But, when he turned the vibrator up a notch and slapped the dildo lewdly against your slick folds a second time, pleasure coursed through your tired body, and you sobbed loudly.

“Enough, please, I can’t take anymore!”

Hunter cooed, and pushed the silicone cock through your folds, looking up at you wickedly. You hadn't used your safe word, so he knew you were fine for now.

“What’s the matter, Princess? I thought you said your toys could make you cum just as many times as me?”

He purred sarcastically, tone dripped with self-satisfaction as you writhed under him, spread out and messy in a stark contrast to where he sat fully dressed, minus the top half of his blacks.

You whimpered and pushed your bottom lip out in an attempt at a pout. But your lover simply pressed his left hand forward and breached you, burying the thick toy deep into your needy cunt until his palm was resting against your folds.

“My my, sweet girl, your pretty little pussy is practically begging to be filled.”

He smirked.

The moan that tore from your chest was loud and desperate. Hunter took pity on you, leaning down to kiss you deeply as he fucked you harshly with the toy.

He tossed the vibrator aside in favour of working your swollen clit with expert fingers instead. Hunter always knew exactly how to touch you to shred every last ounce of sanity you had left.

He hummed lowly, quickly rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves between his thick fingers.

“Come one more time for me, I know you’ve got it in you.”

He ordered, pressing his nose against your cheek as you moaned. His hands worked your body like a finely tuned instrument only he knew how to play.

You nodded eagerly, hands flying to the back of his head and pushing through his thick hair, grabbing a fistful in each palm.

Your mouth hung open in a pretty ‘o’ shape, desperate little moans and whines forcing their way from the lips. You were so close already, your orgasm bubbling in your core and threatening to spill over at any second.

Deft fingers rubbed your clit in quick circles as he fucked you with the toy. His warm breath fanned across your cheek the shell of your war as he whispered.

“Who makes you cum like this?”

His voice had dropped low, sitting deep in his throat with a gravelly edge you knew was reserved for you, and you only.

Your pussy clenched around the toy and you pulled at his hair desperately, earning a delightful grunt from your lover.

“Y-you- Maker- you do, Hunter.”

He kissed you hotly, pulling back barely an inch to mutter a single word into the space between your lips and is own.

“Cum.”

And you did.

The dam that had been holding back your orgasm burst and you squealed his name as you came. Your release slammed into you like a tidal wave, eyes clenching so tight you saw white spots as you gushed around the toy, soaking his fingers and wrist in the process.

Hunter immediately peppered your face with kisses, whispering soft praises as he worked you gently through the intensity of your high.

When he finally removed his fingers and the toy you slumped back, boneless, into the sheets, panting and gasping his name softly.

He wiped his palms on the bedding, before cupping your face and smiling down at you with so much soft adoration in his eyes, you felt like you had forgotten how to breathe.

“Shh, just look at me, baby.”

He cooed softly, strong thumbs swiping over the swell of your pink cheeks.

“You did so well for me cyar’ika. I've got you, I've always got you.”

He whispered, leaning down to kiss your forehead, then your nose, and your closed eyelids. He pressed soft kisses to every part of your face before he landed on your lips with a light peck.

“Let's get you into the fresher, then we’ll snuggle up with one of those terrible holo dramas you like so much?”

He whispered and you cupped his cheeks with a tired, yet blinding smile.

You really didn't know how you'd gotten so lucky.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

You whispered, hoping you’d gotten the pronunciation correct.

Judging by the proud grin you got back, you had.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika.”

----

Tag list:

@paige6768 @sitherin-mxschief @daceydeath @ahsoka1 @gotomarvelgal @savebbycross @pinkgentlemenunicorn @captainrexsfuturewife @ourafanofeverything @kybacrystal

[lonely-lost-soul]

Royal

Request 1: techno x reader fluff? maybe something to do with a castle and warm summer days... I don’t have a full idea but as a vibe know?

Requested by: @theoneandonlyyeti

Simple and Sweet *MUAH* Hope you like it!

Scarred hands clasped onto delicate soft ones, a wedding ring shimmered in the sunlight of a wondrous garden. It was full of vegetation and trees that seemed to stretch far into the heavens, far beyond the castle’s outer walls. Your tea was steaming from where it sat in a porcelain cup, the white cup was decorated with blue flowers spanning the sides. Earl Grey with a hint of honey, your favorite. The hand across from you gave your own a tight squeeze, it snapped you out of your stupor and a smile made its way onto your lips. Your husband was the king of the Antarctic Empire, he had loyal knights and followers worldwide, and he was known for his brute strength and honesty. However, he loved you, treated you like you were some sort of Goddess, spoiling you rotten every moment he was able to. Right now you residing in a neighboring kingdom for the summer, Technoblade has promised you warm summer days filled with flowers and sunshine, and that’s what you were gifted for your anniversary.

“Sorry, I was just thinking,” You spoke tenderly, the warm sun had stained your nose and cheeks a lovely red. Your dress was also a soft pink, the neckline was deep as it dipped past your collarbone. The dress was sleeveless and it seemed to be littered with gold speckles, that part was Technoblades doing. His ears twitched as he leaned back in his chair,

“Can I ask what about? Not having second thoughts are you?”

“About our vacation? Never.” You laughed resting your cheek on your fist, “I’ve forgotten how much I’ve missed the sunshine.” Technoblade let out a little grumble, his white sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

“It’s certainly...hot.” You smiled over at him and snickered, his hair was tied back in a long braid a few stray pieces of hair framed his sculpted face. “I’m certainly missing the cold, and my weaponry.” You gave him a fond eye-roll in response of course he was missing his weapons the man truly didn’t know how to relax.

“Well you know I appreciate you going out of your way for little old me,” You said voice dripping his sarcasm as he sent you a look,

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He eyed you carefully as you stood up from the little table, your light pink dress trailing behind you as you walked into the garden. You turned around sending him a gentle smile his way, holding out your hand, Technoblade reached out and took your small hand within his own. “Seriously, you know it makes me happy to see you happy.” Technoblade brushed your hair behind your ear, and you kissed his wrist softly.

“I know my love,” You reached up to adjust the crown on top of his head, he smiled softly at you. “I’m just happy to spend the summer with you, with no fighting and no political nonsense. Just the sun on our face and flowers all around,” You giggled pulling him along the cobblestone pathway. He hummed fondly as you pulled him along, flower petals from the nearby trees spilling around the both of you. Technoblade pulled you flush and pressed a tender kiss to your lips,

“Ew gross!” A loud voice called from behind the both of you, Techno growled under his breath and you let out a small laugh. A small figure ran up to you and you scooped him up in your arms,

“Cringe. Don’t know why we had to bring him along,” Technoblade grumbled and you stomped on his foot,

“He’s your son.” You scolded covering Aether’s ears, “Of course we have to bring him along!” Technoblade clicked his tongue as you uncovered Aether’s ears, he huffed a little swatting your hands away from his head. He had pink hair just like his father, it was a curly mess that you desperately attempted to tame but to no avail. A soft speckle of freckles was across his nose and cheeks, and he had your striking (e/c) eyes. A flower crown was on his forehead, he also had two in his hands “How’s it going, my little Prince?”

“It’s so much fun here! I love hanging out with Uncle Tommy and Tubbo!” He gushed bouncing in your arms, “Tommy said he and Uncle Wilbur are going into the town soon to visit Miss Sally and Niki. Can I go with them, please?” He turned to look over at his father as he placed a hand on top of his head to ruffle his hair,

“Sure kid. Just don’t cause your uncles too much trouble alright? Unless it’s Tommy, you have explicit permission to fuck with him.”

“Techno.” You scolded harshly as Technoblade rolled his eyes, “That’s a bad word. Do I need to make a swear jar?”

“Mom no,” Aether whined falling against your shoulder, “Uncle Tommy curses all the time.”

“Uncle Tommy’s a little shit.”

“Seems like your mother needs a swear jar, heh kid?” He nudged Aether with his arm, Aether nodded a smile on his lips. You glared harshly at your husband who had a smirk on his lips.

“Agreed, come on mom. Fifty cents, pay up.”

“Trouble makers the both of you.” You teased kissing the top of Aether’s head, before putting him down on the ground. A smile spread across his lips as he wrapped his arms around Technoblade’s legs,

“Bye papa oh wait!” He held out his flower crowns one for each of you, you bent down and took them gracefully. You placed one on your head and one on your husband’s head as well, he scoffed lightly.

“Stay safe kid, remember what I taught you.”

“Go for the knees!”

“That’s my boy.” Technoblade gave him a stern thumbs up, he gave his father a similar gesture and ran back down the cobblestone pathway. You smiled fondly at the sight and Technoblade wrapped his arms around your waist. “God, I can’t believe kids making me soft, who am I?”

“My beautiful husband who loves his son that I carried for nine months.” You mused looking up at him to press a kiss to his chin. He hummed a smirk on his lips,

“Yeah, I am, and I do.”

“You ruined it, get off me.”

“Ah come on,” Technoblade groaned as you wiggled free from his grasp only to cross your arms in front of your chest, “My lovely queen, please.” You crossed your arms with a little huff of your own, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” You sighed with an eye roll “But you gotta lose that cocky attitude when number two comes along.”

“Yeah right, number two.” He chuckled interlocking your hand within his own, your eyebrow twitched as he pulled you along.

“What’s so funny about that?” You piped up as the both of you walked, your head held high. The flower crown on your head slipped a little as you adjusted it,

“I just don’t know if I can picture it, having two kids.”

“What about a little girl hm?” You tilted your head to the side as he followed alongside you like a puppy.

“A girl?”

You nodded watching two little birds fluttering along in a birdbath, you smiled softly, “Yeah a little girl. Maybe one with bubble gum pink hair and your cute little nose.” You poked his nose sweetly and he smiled softly, “maybe one with your fighting spirit. You could chase off any girls or guys she’s interested in.” He chuckled a little at that one, he would, he’d use his ax too.

“What if she had your hair and eyes though? A stunning little goddess just like her mother.” He mused brushing his fingers against your cheek, you giggled,

“You’ll have to swat the suitors away with a fly swatter.”

“Or an ax.”

“You can’t kill children Tech!”

“Eh says you.”

You shot him a look pressing a nervous touch to your stomach, Technoblade raised an eyebrow. He looked like he was connecting dots, “wait hold on a minute you’re not-” You flushed under his gaze and his jaw dropped, “HEH? You’re not serious! Are you serious? You’re- HEH? Baby!? DAD?! ME?!” He pointed to your stomach as to which you gave a nervous nod.

“It’s not for certain! But, I’ve been having the same symptoms I’ve had with Aether and-” He pressed a kiss to your lips hands hovering over your stomach.

“I’m two for two.”

“TECHNOBLADE! YOU ABSOLUTE BASTARD!” You hissed out hitting him on the top of his head, he let out a roaring laugh taking you in his arms and spinning you around.

“You know I love you, you and Aether and baby number two. I always will until the end of time. King or not, all of you will always come first.”

“Love you too, more than anything.” You responded pressing your forehead to his own, “My king.”

“My Queen.”

“Your dad’s going to pass out. Wilbur’s going to go completely pale and Tommy’s going to scream his head off.”

“You know my family well. I can’t wait.” A bright smile appearing across his face, you laughed fondly pulling him close his flower crown almost falling off his head.

“You just like chaos.”

“You know I do.” He cupped your cheek with his hand and pressed a tender kiss to his lips.

“You’re lucky I do too.” You purred sharing another kiss with your husband, flowers fluttered around both of your bodies. As the King and Queen of the Artic relished this rare peaceful summer day, at his family home.

~~~ Tag List: @theoneandonlyyeti, @iamsuchasimp @victory-is-here

@pastelmoonwitche @gnat1usaquar1us

[lanarist]

Hii, I really loved your Plug!Dabi headcanon, I was wondering if you can do a mini fic of him dating the reader or something like that.. if not that’s okay!! Also I love your writing 🥰💕

a/n: Absofuckinglutely I can. This got me so excited. Also thank you for your kind words 🥰 I did not expect my first time publishing my writing to get this much attraction but I’m grateful! I hope this is to your liking 💙

Plug! Dabi head cannon right here

Warnings: drug use, drug dealing, slight violence, guns, lil bit of foreplay, intercourse.

we got a lil bit of everything in here. smut, fluff, and angst.

Also, minors DNI✨

Tags: @bakugosbratx

Sunlight poured in through the blinds of your lover’s room as you began waking up from your slumber. Your eyes were still closed but you could hear the soft ruffling of drawers being shut and jingling of car keys.

“Baby, wake up for a sec,” Dabi cooed while rubbing your bare back, “I gotta go make a sell real quick. I’ll be back.”

“Wait,” You whisper, voice still groggy. You raise yourself on your elbows and squint your eyes. “Can I come with you?”

Dabi sighs. It’s not that he doesn’t want you to tag along with him. He loves having you in the car with him to run errands. But, this deal was sketchy to say the least.

He was going to meet the buyer at some abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. The dude was was only wanting $20 worth of doja, which was already odd to Dabi because the minimum he’s ever made was an easy $50. Not to mention the dude wasn’t a good person at all. The whole ordeal was just sketchy all around.

“I don’t know about it, doll..” He tells you with a sympathetic smile, “Maybe next time.”

“Please?” You pout and put on the best puppy dog like eyes you could muster. “I just wanna ride with you. We could get food after, my treat.”

Dabi breathes heavily through and out his nose, pinching the bridge with his thumb and pointer finger. How could he say no to you? Especially when you have that irresistible pout on your face?

“Fine, but you already know I’m not letting you pay for me.” He chuckles, “I wanna get this done so just get dressed. You can put on one of my shirts, I’ll be in the car.”

You grin sheepishly as he closes the door behind him and you get up from his bed. You hum lightly to yourself as you go through his shirts in his closet. You grab one of his plain black shirts and throw it over your body, it falling right in the middle of your thighs. Your hand reaches out to the floor and you grabs your shorts before pulling them on. You slip your shoes on while throwing your hair to an acceptable messy bun and walk out of the door.

————

“Doll, listen.” His tone undeniably nervous, “I need you to be quiet when he comes to the car. This dude sketches me the fuck out.”

“Okay..” You say, unsure of why he’s so spooked.

Dabi’s car comes to a smooth stop at an old abandoned warehouse. He moves one hand from the wheel and places it on the stick shift to put the car in park.

The sound of a phone ringing filled the car as you scan the area. You felt a small amount of fear forming in your stomach as you gathered that you two are in the middle of fucking nowhere.

“Yeah?” Dabi speaks as he holds the phone to his ear and turning his head in every direction, “Yeah I’m here. Where are you?”

“I’m about to pull up on you. Anyone with you?” A rough voice spoke on the other end.

Dabi hums and places his hand on your thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze, “I got my girl with me.”

“Ight, I see your car. I’ll be there in a sec.”

Dabi hangs up the phone with a heavy breath. You place your hand on top of his and caress it with your thumb.

“It’s gonna be okay.” You assure him with a gentle smile. “Just get the money, give him the stuff, then we can leave.”

“Yeah..” He sighs, letting his head fall back onto his headrest. “I just got a bad feeling about this dude, I don’t like him.”

“Then why are you selling to him?” You ask, genuinely curious.

Dabi shrugs his shoulder, “Money.”

The sound of a door being slammed shut made Dabi turn his head in that direction. He removes his hand from your thigh and breathes heavily one more time before rolling his window down.

“What’s up man?” The dude speaks joyfully when he gets to the window.

You don’t dare to look into his direction, but his voice alone made your skin crawl. His tone was full of farce friendliness. In the corner of your eye you could see that Dabi was gripping his steering wheel tightly and his chest was rising up down at a steady pace.

“Sup John.” He greets the man back, “You only wanted a couple grams, right?”

“Yeah man, that’s fine.” John waves his hand sheepishly. “Thanks for meeting me here.”

“No problem.” Dabi tells him before turning to you, “Can you get the bag out of the glove box?”

You nod and lean forward to open the glove box. When you open it you see the manual book that comes with every car, a black smith & wesson pistol, and the bag full of doja. You had to bite your tongue to keep yourself from gasping, you didn’t know he owned a gun.

Then again, why wouldn’t he? He is a drug dealer after all.

You reach into it, carefully grab the bag full of green nugs and take it out before shutting it. You lean your body back against the seat and hand the bag to Dabi.

When you turn to look in Dabi’s direction you gasp and your stomach drops. Fear consumed your body and you start to shake.

Dabi notices the expression on your face and his eyes go dark. He turns to face John again and was met with a gun pointed in his face.

Dabi chuckles darkly, clicking his teeth and laughs like a villain.

“You’re kidding, right?” Dabi taunts John. “You gonna try to rob me?”

“Cut the tough guy act, asshole.” John hisses as he cocks the pistol and has his finger over the trigger. “Give me your shit and you both can leave. I doubt your girl wants to see your head blown off.”

“Hmm, you know people will come after you, right?”

“Your friends? I’ll take my chances.” John laughs, then motions his gun to Dabi’s hand that held the bag. “Come on, get to it.”

It all happened so fast.

Dabi chuckled darkly one last time before he quickly grabbed the gun from his hand and slammed it against his head. John’s unconscious body fell backwards onto the ground as blood trickled down the side of his face.

Dabi throws the gun out of his window and reaches over you to the glove box. He grabs his gun and slams it shut.

Dabi pushes the clip all the way in with the palm of his hand and cocks his pistol before aiming out of his window. The sound of gun shots infiltrate your ears as you place your hands over them.

After the final shot, Dabi throws his gun into his lap after unloading it and speeds off. His tires squeal as he drifts onto the road.

“Did you.. Did you kill him?” You whisper breathlessly, ears still ringing.

“No.” Dabi assures you, keeping his eyes on the road to avoid your shock filled gaze. His knuckles were turning whiter than his pale skin as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“But he sure as hell ain’t going no where with fucked up tires.”

————

Not another word was spoken in the car as he drove you both back to his place, food long forgotten. Now back at his place, you laid on his bed finally calmed down as he sat on the side of his bed with his back facing you.

His white hair was an absolute mess from the many times he’s ran his hands through it with a loud sigh. His elbows rested on his knees while his head rested in his hands.

“Baby..” You cooed, hesitantly reaching a hand out to touch him. “Are you mad at me?”

“What?” He turns to face you, his blue eyes glossy and cheeks red. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I begged to go with you..” You pout, letting your gaze fall down to the comforter on his bed. “You haven’t talked to me either..”

“I could never be mad at you.” He assures you before laying his body down next to yours. He takes your hand in his and raises it to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

“I’m mad at myself. I knew better than to have you there with me. I had a bad feeling even before we left. Yet, I still let you come with me..” He whispers.

You felt your heart clench inside of your chest as he spoke. You have never seen him so shaken up like this. He was never one to show anyone his vulnerable side. The way he always carried himself it was surprising to others that he had emotions at all. It was even more of a shock that he had you. According to Keigo, he never gave anyone a second glance, and he definitely didn’t let people smoke his stash like he does with you.

You were different than the rest in his eyes. No one understood him like you do. No one has ever cared or worried about him. That’s why he couldn’t lose you.

“I don’t know what I would if something had happen to you today..” he whispered again, “I can’t lose you, y/n. I love you too much.”

What did he say?

“Pardon?”

“You heard me.” His blue eyes look into yours, full of love and admiration, “I love you, so fucking much.”

Tear brim your eyes as you take his face in your hands, “I love you too, Touya.”

That was the first time ever since you’ve been together, that either of you spoke those three words.

He lets out a small laugh before pressing his lips onto yours, pulling you into a passionate kiss. His hands find purchase on your cheeks as your lips danced against his.

“Can I just say that despite being scared for my life..” You pull away to speak, “Seeing you like that, was hot as fuck.”

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles, moving his hands down to your throat. “Good to know, baby.”

Dabi smashes his lips back on yours and moves his body to hover over yours. Your hands reach down to the hem of his shirt and tug on it. He takes the hint and pulls it off of his body with one arm.

Your hands lay on his biceps as one of his hands traced down your body, starting at your collarbones, through the valley of your breasts, and down to the top of your shorts. His hand pushes pass your shorts and panties, then two of his fingers land on your clit, rubbing soft and smooth circles.

You whimper against his mouth and dig your nails into his arms, causing him to smirk against your lips.

You have one of your hands travel down his body and push it under the band of his boxers. Now it was your turn to smirk as he groaned into your mouth when you took his cock into your hand, pumping gently.

“Fuck doll,” He growled when you let your thumb swipe over his tip, “I need you, right now.”

“You have me.” You purred and bit his lower lip.

Dabi removes his hand from your clit and raises up off of you. As he took the rest of his clothing off, you did the same. Clothes were thrown and long forgotten on the floor of his bedroom.

His body laid back on top of your as he made himself comfortable in between your legs. Soft whimpers emitted from your lips as he started to slide his cock over your wet sex.

You both gasp against each other’s mouths when he slipped all the way into your wet cavern. He could never get over the fact of how he fit into your walls so perfectly. Like it was molded just for him.

His thrusts were much slower than usual. His hands weren’t choking you or pinning your wrist down. He wasn’t attacking your neck or breasts, leaving his mark. No degrading words were being thrown at you.

Instead, he slides his hands into yours and intertwines your fingers as his hips met yours slowly and he breathes heavily into your neck.

He was making love to you.

His name and profanities tumbled out of your lips as he hit that sensitive spot inside of you. You moved your hands out from under his and wrapped them around his neck.

“I love you,” He breathed into your neck before lifting his head to rest his forehead against yours and his hands cup your face. “So, fuckin, much.”

“I love you.” You whimper, placing your lips on his as he continues his slow and smooth thrusts.

You feel yourself clench down on him and your heart rate increases, the coil burning inside your stomach about to break.

“Baby, I’m about to-“

“I know, Doll. Me too.”

Dabi’s pace increases as he takes his final thrusts into you. His lips take yours into a searingly passionate kiss that stole the air right from your lungs.

You both moan one last time before Dabi stills and his hold on your face tightens. Pleasure struck through the both of you as you hit release. His hips move lazily as he fucks you through your orgasm. No high from any drug could compare to the one you reach together in these intimate moments.

One of your hands massage through his hair while the other does the same up and down his back as you both catch your breath. The soft sounds of his breath against your neck making you feel sleepy.

“You wanna go get some food and smoke?” He asks while lifting up to see your adorable fucked out face. That was his favorite part.

“Absolutely.”