#that’s probably where the obsession started :v

[pixlokita]

Why are you sorry? You're correct! They're just tiny little guys

Idk I feel bad I think some people find it annoying xD but yeah ;v; bless 👌💖 they’re just tiny in my heart

[lesbiansanemi]

Oh god not sukuna brain rot

[yeyinde]

when your need grows teeth | John Price x f!Reader

John's the type of man to lock his jaws around what's his, preferring instead to ruin things, puncture it full of holes, and litter it with scars, rather than let it go. It starts when you ask him to pick up your birth control—like dangling a piece of bloody meat in front of a starving dog.  Of course he's going to take a bite.  He thinks you ought to have known this by now. 

SMUT 18+ | gratuitous smut; HEAVY breeding kink, breeding; Dom!John Price; p-in-v sex, unsafe sex; rough sex; mentions of spanking; mutual manipulation; this is roughly 10k of John Plotting and fucking you; John is: unhinged, obsessive, possessive, and Scheming. mentions of birth control tampering but nothing is followed through. No. He’s going to knock you up the old-fashioned way—by making you beg for it.

AO3 MIRROR

John has always had this desire—this awful, instinctual drive in the back of his head to knock someone up. Get them fat, swollen with his child. His. 

And maybe that's the crux of it. Possession. To have something of the most rooted kind. To irrevocably change someone—their anatomy, their body, the chemistry in their brain, their status in life from them (single no dependents) to mother (mother of his child), their very atoms—and create life from the combined parts. 

It's this almost fantastical beast, this unreachable dream for him. 

It's his Shangri-la. His castle in Spain. 

He's not under any disillusionment that this idea of fatherhood, of parenthood, is slightly skewed. That most men who want children don't feel this overwhelmingly greedy desire to fundamentally alter someone in such an irreversible way. It's not quite ownership, but it's the same ilk. A bastardised, unwanted child of it. 

And it's not just this idea of claimation—to forever be the father of their child, even if neither of them stays together; a piece of him will always be there, parasitic, no matter what—but something deeper. Something a bit less—egregious. 

This is, and always has been, about yearning. 

John's the type of man to lock his jaws around what's his, preferring instead to ruin things, puncture it full of holes, and litter it with scars, rather than to let it go. 

Marriage, he finds, is breakable. Divorce, separation. He's always on his worst behaviour in the initial stages of dating, so it's never something he has to entertain since no one ever sticks around long enough for it to be on the table, much less the menu, but the idea of it—of signing papers, of hashing out the split, of being known as ex-husband—leaves a bitter tang between his teeth. It won't do. He needs permanence. Perpetuity. 

Nothing says forever quite like a child, does it? 

And sure—he’s aware that countermeasures exist: custody orders, sole custody, shared; allotted visitations; divisional lines in this new age that keep the parents from ever interacting—but while you can get divorced, you can't unmake a child, can you?

The child would never write him out, either. 

Where deadbeats exist, it's important to note that their counterparts do, too. The ones like him who will gouge their eyes out of their skulls before they ever let what happened to them growing up trickle down and impact their child, polluting the pool. 

Simply put: John Price knows he'd be the best dad there is because he's stubborn that way. 

It helps, he supposes, that he really only has so much love to give out to the world, and greedily, he stashed the entirety of it away in a box to give to his would-be wife and their child. An overwhelming deluge that promises happiness should it ever be unlocked. Pandora's box, perhaps—down to the very essence because if John Price were to ever love someone, then it's probably in their best interest to run from it, this gaping, needy chasm. 

Not that it would ever be a possibility, of course—he’s much too good at compartmentalisation, in taking out his anger, his viciousness, on the ugly world he drenches himself in, the one his hands have a tangible cause and effect principle in place that will forever feed that starving beast inside of him.

Ergo—he’s a staunch supporter of the theory: happy wife, happy life. Though where those men think in a box stuffed full of emotional intimacy, flowers, chocolate, maintaining love, all-consuming and enduring, he takes it to extremes that would have them cowering a little bit. Maybe a lot.  

But that's fine. He only has to make sure his family is happy. No one else matters, save a select few who have a seat at his table during Sunday dinners. 

The rest, though? Spare parts. 

(The ice-cold resolve in those two words is apodictic, brass bound, and he's sure if his higher-ups knew about it, well—

His chest candy would be a hole in the ground. Put the rabid dog down before it has a chance to bite.)

But that all-consuming, devouring, obsessive love he has to give, that begs to be let free, is the reason why it's so tightly leashed. Locked up in a box. Untouchable. Inaccessible. 

It's why he isn't married. 

Ghost once asked him why the women he dated were older. Much older. Menopausal (always). And he'd said something to the effect of it being his type. Older women who wouldn't cower away from the acrid burn of him, who wouldn't hurt their delicate little hands on his gritty surface. 

But the real reason is because he knows better. 

He's a starving dog, and it's just bad form to dangle a piece of meat in front of it. Especially when the hand holding it is his own. 

Don't bite the hand that feeds you, and all. 

(The keen look in Ghost's eyes told him that, perhaps, the man already knew the reason when he asked, and was just satiating himself with kinship—the dark, awful look on Simon's ugly mug after the dredging the underbelly of Price’s rotten, mouldering mudfloor of things unsaid spoke volumes. 

They'd both nodded. Content, then. And promptly ordered a shot of whisky to drown the salivation, the hunger, from clogging their throats. Killing the urge to bite.

A pair of packless, stray dogs.)

But then he found you, and all his careful planning, all his distance, blew up in his face. 

It's always been on his mind since then. Lingering in his periphery—this fevered, tantalising vision of you, round and swollen with his child. 

It's unattainable, of course. A fantasy. 

Though, this—you throwing up in the washroom of his penthouse, undoubtedly knocked up by his machinations—is probably because he kept that desire too close to where he hides his questionable mortality, the one that allows him to throw innocent people to their deaths, and send mothers and fathers to an early grave just so he can rip his fists apart on their bastard offspring in his own brand of catharsis that always bites back when they grow up, hankering for revenge. 

He's always been good at snatching dreams out of the air, clenching them tight in his fists. Taming chimerical wants, whims, until they were docile, domesticated. Making realities out of fiction. 

And really—he’s just not a good man.

He thought you'd have known this by now.

He remembers the first time he growled the words into your ear as he came, your cunt clenching around him like a vice. Desperate for it, he teased after, fingers fucking into your sloppy, leaking hole. Pushing his spend back into you. Half-drunk on the taste of you still clinging to his beard, but mostly just mesmerised by the sight of you—pretty pussy all ruined, swollen from the vicious, hateful pounding he gave it, and dipping with his cum like a faucet. 

(It pissed him off—still does, really—when you waste it like this.)

Gonna fill you up, he snarled, low and wrecked. Gonna make it take—

It was a fantasy. Still is. But the way it took root in the garden of your bedroom, like it belonged—native flora, he thinks, a touch mad with it—had something ugly, oil slick, rearing up from that untouchable place in his head. 

He could really blame you for it—and does. The way your ankles locked tight around his thighs, hands reaching, grabbing at his waist, clawing at his asscheeks to press him in deeper, deeper still, as he came inside of you, cock lodged right against your plug, had that untameable beast cocking its head in consideration after you danced too close to it, waking it from his long, restful slumber. 

You wanted it. Ached for it. He could feel it in the way your walls tightened around him, practically starving for it. Your pretty, glossy eyes rolling back into your head. Drool running down your chin. A litany of pleas spilled from your kiss-bruised lips, begging him for it. Please, John. Please. Please—

Who was he to deny you? 

Even if you made a big, flustered show of waving it off—not something I've ever imagined for myself, you know? and–and your lifestyle, what you do—is something like that even possible for us?—he saw how it curled around your shoulders, dipping its silver tongue into your ear. Germinating. 

He let it. Encouraged it. 

“Something to talk about later,” he indulged, reaching over for a cigar just to smother the urge to breed you stupid. To tie you to his bedposts and keep you full until your belly was swelling with more than just the absurd volume of his seed he pumped inside of you. 

And, oh—

The uneasy smile on your face reeked of disappointment. 

Fuck. Fuck—

John went to the washroom after that, heart pounding out of his chest, and jabbed the lit end of his cigar into his thigh to kill the fever in his veins. To rewrite the desperate, ugly howling in his head with pain instead. 

It worked. Works—

Until you came to him, all watery-eyed and worried, and told him to please, please stop falling asleep with a lit cigar because you think you might just go mad if you lost him to a cigarette fire. And doesn't he see how silly it is, these burns look so bad, John, and I worry—

His teeth ached. He smiled, but it felt like a grimace. A dog holding back the instinct to bare its teeth. 

“Sure, love,” he'd said, and started taking out his anger on your cunt instead, fucking you deep, and stupid. Getting you all cockdrunk, and hungry for the dream that spoiled so badly in the back of his head, he's sure a proper man would call it a nightmare. “Anything you want.”

(Brassbound. Apodictic. You know that, he knows you know that, so imagine his surprise when you come to him, all soft and tender, and ask him to pick up your birth control as if he hadn't spent the better part of two years grumbling every fucking time you took it and wasn't on the verge of tossing the damn bottle out the window, and fucking you until it took—

But—you do know that, don't you? 

Well, then. Whatever his lady wants, right? Right.)

“Can you stop by the pharmacy on your way home tonight?”

He hums, fiddling with the belt of his slacks in front of the mirror. “Sure, love. You feelin’ sick?” 

“No,” you murmur, sliding behind him on your way to the washroom, wearing nothing but a towel tucked under your arms. “I need my refill. For birth control.” 

His hands still. A gnarled, rotted tendril curls over the edge of the cesspool, murky, ink black water splashing all over the place. “Oh, yeah? Still taking that, hm?”

You fluster. Hands waving, chock full of nervous, emotive energy you can't seem to shake off. “Well—yes. I mean, obviously.”

And he'd leave it there, let the spillage dry on the hot pavement, if you hadn't glanced back at him, all damp keenness, slightly skittish, and asked, feather-soft and utterly fragile, “right?” 

Right? A question, he notes. Not a statement. 

He licks his teeth. Tastes something rancid in the gaps. 

“Mm. I suppose so.” He leaves it vague, but drenches it in the heavy weight of his disappointment. Anchors dragging it down. You flit around the space like a house-locked bird, slamming into the walls and ceiling as you try—blind and panicked—to find an escape. Any escape. 

He finds the whole thing utterly charming. Especially when you realise he pitched himself in front of the only exit, thick, heavy hands curled around his belt, cock outlined against his slacks, already thickened, drooling in his pants. 

There's gasp—wet, and sharp—as you take him in. The liquid of his eyes as his want bleeds out of his skull. The flush on his cheeks, the twitch of his cock at the mere mention of you not taking your silly little pills. 

John lets it sit for a moment, taking in greedy lungfuls of your unease as you glance everywhere but at him, as if looking in his direction, breathing in this toxic miasma will give you a contact high. Infectious. Gnarled. 

The little seed that started germinating blooms. 

He fights back the urge to grin, all teeth. Madness staining them black. 

“It's—it’s on—” and fuck, he's never seen you so unsure before, this nervous. You handle him like a wrangler, wrassling his brutish dominance until it's putty in your hands, splitting his head into pieces and galvanising the madness inside until it's scripture for you to peek at whenever you need guidance, insight into him, his essence, his being. 

Your dyadic has always been built on permeance. 

John doesn't think there's a single person alive who understands him as much as you do. The only person who seems content to gorge yourself on his rotted marrow like it was a delicacy. 

Seeing you like this rents his resolve in two. 

“It's the pharmacy near the, uh, the school. The kindergarten.” 

He chokes on a groan, and thinks he tears something in his throat with the strain of keeping it down. There's blood, ash, in the back of his throat.

“Alright, love. I'll pick it up.” 

You smell it, and shiver. 

It's giving meat to a starving dog, and saying, dog, don't take a bite. 

And so, of course he does. 

John picks up your prescription, tossing it in the passenger seat like it personally offended him. And it has. Does. It's what's standing in the way between what he wants, what he craves, and there's a distinct thrum of irritation welling inside of him. One that started when he had to bark out your name at the counter earlier, and the pharmacist looked at him, and calmly, kindly, explained what it was he was picking up. 

Make sure she takes them once a day. Preferably at the same time. This brand of oral contraceptive can be taken with or without food—

Fuck off, he thought—thinks, even now, glowering into the tinted window of the pharmacy. 

He grips the steering wheel tight until his scarred knuckles bleach white under the strain, and sits in the parking lot, staring, unseeingly, at the shops. Pensive. Thoughtful. It gnarls over his expression until he's the picture of that grizzly-like intensity you often accuse him of. All furrowed brows and a pinched, angry twist to his lips. 

There's a series of complex equations running laps in his head. He's no stranger to this process, needing to make life or death decisions in less time it takes someone to snap their fingers, or tentatively stammer out his title. 

This one is more linear than the rest. One plus one, so to speak. But the weight of it is profound. Heavier, even, than deciding between the success of his mission and the life of an innocent bystander. 

(But he thinks he's just selfish like that.)

In his head, he debates the ethics of replacing all of these silly little tablets that stand in his way with sugar pills. 

It would be the quickest path to the end, but the risk-reward ratio ebbs and flows the more he considers things without the miasmic influence of that abomination throwing itself at the walls of its enclosure, howling in an endless cacophony of do it, do itdoit—

A better man wouldn't even have such a temptation. He supposes that's what you deserve, but he already had this particular crisis a few months after he met you, and realised that the things he wanted to do to you would undoubtedly put him on a list. Slapped so hard with a restraining order, his ears would still be buzzing. 

That something about you made his jowls twinge, and his teeth ache, and no amount of stay away from her, Price; she deserves better than you was going to keep his dirty hands from curling around your throat, leaving soot-stains on your skin in the shape of his fingerprints. Brandishing ownership in burst blood vessels; a pretty collar for you to wear because as much as you like to pretend otherwise—

You're a dog just like him. 

In any case, he's the best choice for you. The only one who'd burn the world just to keep you warm, and that's what you really need. Protection. 

And fuck—you toy with that particular urge that has always been etched in fine lines within the walls of bones; dipping your fingers into it, and spreading it over the apples of your cheek. Everything about you prickles along his hindbrain. Renders him from a modern man with modern ideals to an animal who can only speak in growls, snarls; pure primalism, all instinct. 

You're made for each other down to the bone. He's sure he could split your head apart and find that your cranial sutures are perfectly mirrored. Made in the same image: you were grown from his missing rib, and he always meant to be cradled in the brackets of your thighs. 

So, crisis of worthiness aside—because there are none, not anymore—he plots. Plans. Schemes. But his machinations keep catching on the soft fibrils of your wants. 

John doesn't know what he'd do if you changed your mind. 

(Or, rather, he does but that's another madness to unravel with his personal therapist.)

It's with this—the slight brandishing of his uncertainty in your certainty—that he gives up the idea, pocketing it for a later date, and drives home, back to you. 

He doesn't toss the bag on the counter, but sets it up perfectly, placing it as close to the edge where the bin sits under it. All it would take is a breath of wind for it to fall into the trash. 

That doesn't happen, though. You stare at the white, crinkled package for a moment as he sips on his tea, quietly contemplative. With your expression hidden from him, he has no idea what might be going through that pretty head of yours. Disappointment, he can only hope. And then you're reaching for it, fingers gripping the bag tightly in your fist. He hears the paper crumble. It sparks something inside his chest. A bloom of hope that you might just throw it out. Toss it in the bin—

You turn to him instead, knuckles white. 

“Thanks,” you say, and the matter is dropped. 

He goes to tuck that want back where it escaped, leaving slick trails of putrefying rot behind, but—

John peeks in the vanity later that evening, but where he expects to see the little rectangular package sitting in its usual spot between his aftershave and the mouthwash, he finds nothing. Just an empty spot on the ledge, spotlit by the lack of dust. A clean square of white paint, undisturbed. 

His jaw twinges. He wonders if you're hiding it from him, keeping it safe from his machinations, but then he finds it shoved in the drawer with his shaving kit, and the box of condoms he bought when you'd first started dating (for show, naturally—John had no intentions of using them and learned persuasion was your Achilles heel; that and you tended to get a little glossy-eyed whenever he growled filth in your ear, the smell of your cunt heavy on his breath). 

The package is crinkled like you squeezed it tight in your little fist before you tossed it in. 

You're always meticulous in the way you put things in their places. Even the junk drawer is organised, all neat. 

This speaks volumes, but he's not quite sure what it says. They are still here, though. Accessible. One is missing from the pack. It dampens his mood. 

He picks up his toothbrush, and runs through those calculations again to see how he can convince you to skip the one you're meant to take tomorrow. And the next day, and the next, and the next—

He stays awake as you sleep beside him, looking into how many days you can miss before your brand of birth control stops being effective. 

Seven pills in a row. 

He files it away, lost in thought. 

The next morning, he leaves his phone open on the bedside table with the article pulled up. He kisses you awake before he leaves to shower, humming something soft under his breath. 

When he returns, he finds you sitting up in bed with your knees drawn to your chest. There's something pensive about the look on your face. Paper soft, as though it would all blow away at a mere whisper. 

You regard him almost cooly but something raw, fractured splits over the ravine. A waterfall of midnight black sludge rains down. 

(He wonders if it tastes of the same rot, the same madness, as the basin of the untouched recesses of his head—)

“I'm working late tonight,” you murmur after a measured beat, and he can't place your tone. “Maybe we can watch a movie when I get home.” 

John nods, and your eyes drop, scaling down his bare, broad chest as he breathes in the flint staining the air. Your gaze is white-hot when it bludgeons into him, feverish. 

It doesn't take much beckoning at all to have him crawling toward you, towel ripped from his hips and thrown somewhere in the aether. 

As he steals the madness from your tongue, his eyes flicker to the phone still sitting on the table. It looks perfectly untouched. The screen is off. 

That, too, he files away. 

John comes to the succinct conclusion that the only means he has in his arsenal to get what he wants—legally, and somewhat morally, anyway—is persuasion. 

There's no recourse if he can water that burgeoning plant inside of you, make it seem like this is something you want, too. A family. With him. 

(Only him.)

He knows that you see things quite similarly to him. Wherein love is desire. Desire is hunger. And there's nothing more profound to you than to eat the person you love alive. Consumption of every part—the good, the beautiful, the bad, the ugly, and the rotted: skin, fat, muscles, blood, and bones. All of it. 

So, even if somewhere down the road you think you hate him for this, it'll be fine. He'll just consume that, too. 

John Price is a tenacious man. Stubborn. 

(Bullish, he hears around the barracks. Fuckin’ stubborn prick, too.)

It helps that this line of work is perfectly suited for such a peremptory drive to the finish line, no matter the cost. Utilitarian to a fault, despite his rather recalcitrant disposition. It's how he gets his way more often than not. Brutish dominance. Loutish suppression. 

But a near reckless, suicidal loyalty that attracts the sort of beasts this line of work needs. 

But that's work, not this. Not trying to convince you, his sugar-sweet (and viciously diabolical) lover, to bear the burden of giving him a family because society says it's uncouth (and illegal, morally reprehensible, villainous) for him to chain you to his bed to keep the darker parts of himself that want to rip into anyone who had the pleasure—pleasure that no longer belongs to them—of looking at you. 

That's all for him. 

(Nasty old bastard.) 

And, of course, because he's ready. Everything clicks. Locks into place. There's no one else out there for him. 

Really, though—it's your fault for prodding that beast in the first place. For letting inside your house, your bed. For thinking it could be tamed. And so. You should accept responsibility for it. 

(Nasty, nasty—)

But just as much as you know him, he knows you. You'll give him a litany of reasons why this shouldn't happen, and none of them will be because this isn't what you want. It'll be filled with reasons why you think he doesn't. 

And that simply won't do. 

So, he plots. Plans. 

The thing is. No one ever taught him how to hold things in his hands without crushing it. 

He doesn't think he can be delicate. Gentle. There's no way to gently nudge you into this. No. 

He'll convince you to yield the same way a tsunami convinces a house to move out of the way. 

Buried to the hilt in your cunt, he growls gospels into your ear about this beautiful Shangri-la, this sprawling castle he has in Spain until you're clenching down around him tight, conditioning your body to come at the thought of swelling with his child. About letting his seed take root, letting him knock you up. 

It's a crass image that he spits into your head—fuck you until it takes, love; breed this pretty cunt every day until you're fat and swollen—serves as the positive reinforcement to his classical conditioning. He'll turn you into one of Pavlov's mutts, salivating at the sound of him groaning into your ear as he fills your pussy up to the brim. He'll reshape you, change your wants until you only come around his cock when he's spitting his release against the plug of your womb. 

And when you make to get up, letting all his spend slip from your sloppy cunt to take your pill, he pulls you closer under the guise of wanting to feel your body on his, murmuring diabolical compromises he has no intention of letting you see through. 

“Later,” he rasps, pulling you closer. His mouth slots across your temple. “Just take it later, sweetheart. Later.”

“But—”

“It’ll be fine.” 

And, as if you'd been waiting for that reassurance, you melt into his hands, wet putty. 

(you take the bloody pill later, and he adds that to his mental calendar, adjusting the maths. He supposes he’ll just have to try harder next time.)

John's desire for you is overwhelming, all-encompassing, and he schemes around his wandering hands, bullying into your messy cunt only moments before your alarm is meant to go off, reminding you to take your pill, reinforcing that irritating little wall that keeps his come from reaching your womb. 

It goes off, but he hardly hears it over the roaring in his ears, the sweet, sweet litany of moans that slip out, staining the pillow with your pleasure. He just keeps fucking you through it, growling mindlessly into your ears about how badly he wants to come inside of you. His warnings, threats, about how close he is intertwining with your desperate begging for him to come, come inside me, John is the most beautiful harmonisation he'd ever heard, and it sews itself into his marrow, polluting the ugliness inside with a new, fresh hell for him to torture himself with. That delicious pleasure-pain that drives him mad—

He fills you up, palm pressed taut to your lower belly as he spits his virile release deep into your cunt. He can feel the heavy outline of his cock against your skin, stuffed full of him, and it's this—the way he moulds your body around him, cock visible through your flesh—that makes his eyes roll back into his head. Makes the urge to fuck, to breed, to claim bludgeon into him, shattering reason, logic. He wants to change you, irrevocably. Forever. To mar you with his touch, his essence. 

“Mine,” he chokes out, ugly and raw. It's a mangled mess in his throat. A threat. “All fucking mine, aren't you, love? All mine—”

His words seem to throw you into another climax, cunt clenching greedily down around him as he softens inside of you, plugging you up. You liked that, he notes, purs. The notion brands itself across his resolve, reshaping it into something that would make anyone else recoil in fear, disgust. 

But you preen at this creature that bares its fangs at you, snaps wicked teeth against your jugular. Fingers threading through its hair, shushing it, soothing it, as you pull it back into your embrace, head tucked against your chest. You lull it into complacency with the heavy thud of your heart, your sweet, earthy scent. 

What a pair, he thinks, and clamps his hands around your wrist when you murmur something about taking your pill now. Need to take it before it gets too late, John—

He makes his move, distracts you with his mouth, his tongue. 

“Just take it after,” he murmurs into your pussy, thighs bracketing around his head. His hands pull your waist down, pressing you harder against his mouth. “Later, love. It'll be fine—”

“But, John—”

The protest dies, turns to ash, when he grunts, sealing his lips around your clit, bullying it with the rasping press of tongue until you're arching your back, riding his face. Thoughts of your silly pill are gone, swallowed by him as you gush, drenching his mouth in your slick. 

And after, when you make to get up again, he pulls you close instead, voice curling around you like smoke when he tells you to take it after. 

“No, love. Stay in bed with me,” he peppers kisses to your cheek, your jaw, chin, sweetening his words, and folds you into the tight embrace of his arms. “Take it in the morning. It'll be fine to miss a day.”

You level him with something that shadows the ravines in your gaze with pure, unadulterated scepticism, but as he scouts the canyons, the valleys, the pretty craters that make up the composite of your eyes, he finds no discernible trace of wariness, uncertainty. The terse line in his shoulders ease. 

But while fossicking around he unearths something else. Something a bit more enigmatic, calculative, than doubt. Equivocal, slippery, it runs from him when he tries to give chase, tucking itself back into the harsh tenebrous that shades the landscape. 

He hums, wanting to ask, but you sigh in quasi-acquiescence, and burrow deeper into his embrace. 

“Fine,” you huff, but he tastes a purring sense of satisfaction in the air. “I'll take it tomorrow instead.” 

“Good girl.” The praise slips out, low and gritty, perfumed with his heavy greed. 

You shiver against him. The hitch in your throat is quiet in the bedroom, but to him, it sounds like a gunshot. 

John keeps meticulous track of the empty pill slots, and notes with a sticky, resinous sense of glee that the numbers are becoming muddled, skewed. Later becomes tomorrow, and your soft acquiesce has days skipped. Missed. 

You can't double up, you huff to him, mournfully slinking into the bed. It's nearly one in the morning. Technically, a brand new day. I absolutely have to take it tomorrow, John. Make sure you remind me—

There's something pointed in your tone. Something oil-slick. He nods, bites back a grin. 

“Sure,” he pulls you close, breathes in the sweet, loamy scent of you—sweat and sex and the lingering remnants of your perfume, your soap—and lets it stain his lungs. “I can do that.” 

You say nothing at all when he doesn't bring it up until well past midnight the next day, offering little more than an exasperated groan, and a huffy roll of your eyes, as if this was just a missed dinner with friends and not a life-changing misstep. 

(The beast purrs. He places his hand over his chest, and feels the rumble under his skin.)

“Need to be more responsible than this, John,” you say, squirming in his hold to try and rush to the washroom to take that pesky little pill. 

“Sorry, love,” he offers, and means none of it. Clings tighter to you. “Got a bit carried away today, is all.” 

“It's not your fault—” something curls out from a dark crevasse when you look at him. “I've been so—off lately, you know? Must be the new batch. Maybe I should call my doctor.” 

He stills. Body tensing, coiling. John tries to speak, but the words are ash on his tongue. He clears his throat. 

“Could stop taking it.” 

It crackles in the air. Hangs heavy like a stormcloud. 

You blink, stunned. But it's artificial, hollow. Pulled from a wicker basket where you keep all your different skins. 

“You mean—what? Stop it all together—?”

You flit in the space once more, but it's less of an injured bird searching for an escape, he realises suddenly, and more of—

A boomslang. 

One rearing up, searching for the perfect place to strike. 

Wishful thinking, though, because you're flustered and skittish once more, a small prey animal he isn't sure what he wants to do the most—sink his teeth into you, tear you into pieces, and devour you whole, or hide you away from the world. 

“I can look for something else in the meantime,” you sound shy, hesitant, and it prickles across his skin. “But we'd need to be careful, you know. Otherwise you might actually get me pregnant.”

He tries to swallow his groan. Chokes on it instead. 

“Sure, sure—” he hacks into his palm. “Of course, love. We'll be safe. I'll pull out—”

Naturally, he doesn't. Makes no effort to even try despite promising you he is. 

“Not my fault your pussy won't let go of me, love,” he grumbles, hand cupping your weeping sex in his palm. The heat of you is searing. Blistering. He thinks he could happily melt inside of it for the rest of his life, and leans down to whisper his devotion into your come-slicked folds, the bitter tang of you, of him, admixing on his tongue. An elixir he could drown in. 

You huff at him after, all glossy-eyed and sex-drunk, and tell him to please try harder, John, I'll have to get plan b tomorrow—

You don't, but the threat of it, the possibility, lingers in the back of his mind, souring his thoughts. 

Next time, and I'll have to, John, you say, featherlight, lips pressed against the head of his cock. A warning, a goddamn tease—

His voice is strained, pinched. “Of course, love,” and he guides your mouth back to his cock, letting the matter fall into pieces when you suck on the sensitive head, tongue licking, coy and kittenish, over his frenulum. 

It's only later, when watches you swallow down his come, that the beast slinks out of the shadows, pocketing the fragments. 

You're off birth control—barely any scheming words of whispered concern needed—but the idea of you taking a little pill to wipe away his efforts has him pulling back. Recalibrating his plans. 

He decides on a different route to the same end. 

Damnation at your own hand. 

John, for his credit, does begin to pull out after that—albeit, with a great deal of agonised reluctance—and instead comes all over your pretty face. 

With thick ropes of his pearlescent spend dripping down the apples of your heated cheeks, he doesn't think he's ever seen a sight more beautiful than this. 

And one with more opportunity.

Slowly, he swipes at it with his thumb and then promptly brings it down, hard, on your clit. You flinch, mewling at the overstimulation, and the threat he brings so close to your raw, unprotected sex. It's dangerous. This thin line he dances along could snap at any moment. Could rain hellfire and fury over his broad shoulders, unmake all the progress he'd steadily built up. 

He walks the precipice, anyway. He pulls his hand away, and brings two fingers up to curve over your cheeks. His thumb, stained with your slick and his come, slides across your bottom lip. 

The pout you give him—all wet-eyed lachrymose—has his spent cock twitching against his sticky thigh. “Fuck, love. Gonna send me to an early grave if you keep starin’ at me like that.” 

“You're cracked,” you slur around his thumb. In retaliation, he digs it into your tongue, and preens—full of nasty, gnarled satisfaction—when your eyes flutter, rolling into the back of your head at the taste. 

With this brief distraction, he drops his come-stained fingers to your mound, and rubs along the swollen rim of your hole. Just touching, pressing. A tease, a whisper. 

You tense. “John—” it's muffled around his thumb, and he isn't sure if it's a warning or a plea. 

He pushes the tips in, barely to the first knuckle, and just pets around your rim. 

It's a battle of wills, now. “No more than this,” he promises, and the undercurrent of his threat rents the air. Makes you bristle. 

You always loved a challenge—especially coming from him. 

“Just the tip?” You tease, spittle running down your chin. Your eyes are dark—midnight skies, ink black—and he's struck by the afterimage of himself in those pools. Made in the same image. 

He grunts, slides into the first knuckle, and scissors them apart. 

“John—” it's breathless. Your teeth spear his thumb, tight around his bone. He wants nothing more than to have you bite down hard, scar his bones with the gnawed meteors of your desire. Your desperation. “Fuck—please—”

You give in so prettily, and he barely has a moment to think about how quick it's been when you angle your hips, hand falling to grip his wrist tight as you slide down his fingers, all the way to the last knuckle. 

You clench around him like a vice. A pretty bow. He fucks you with his fingers, meeting your shallow thrusts with ones of his own, slamming viciously into your pussy as he coos adorations into your ear. 

With his other hand, he reaches down and fists himself over your bare mound, pressing the tip against your clit where it weeps prespend over your flesh. His thumb sweeps across what spills out, dragging it back down to your sopping hole, pushing it inside. 

It's probably not enough to reach your womb, to get you pregnant, but he clings to that tantalising fantasy as he drills his fingers into you until you come, breathlessly begging him to fuck you harder, to fill you up—

He isn't even fucking you with his cock, and you still beg him for it. 

John pushes the tip into your slit, fingers still buried deep inside of your throbbing pussy, and groans with the force of his release. It makes him dizzy, almost nauseous with it, filling his head with nothing but the sweet, wounded sound of your moans filling the room, and the wet squelch of his fingers pulling out of you. 

When he catches the threads of cognisance in his fingers once more, he leans back on his haunches, chest heaving, and brands the messy sight of your pussy fluttering, clenching around nothing, as his spend drips down your slit, over your hole, and pools in the sheets below. 

He's not sure if heaven exists, but he knows the sight of you, breathless and whimpering on his bed, is the closest a man like him will ever come to seeing it. 

The push-pull of this little game stretches on. 

Price likes to see just how far he toe the line before you're whimpering into the sheets, telling him don't, John, don't come inside me, I'm not anything, John—and he's ripping himself away from the tight clutch of your wet, hot cunt, and coming all over you.

The illicit tease of barely pulling out in time, and then scooping up the mess he makes on your face, your breasts, your belly, your ass, lower back, thighs, and spooning it into your pussy until it's a fixture in your bedroom ritual. 

And maybe it's the threat of it all, of playing such a dangerous game, seems to cudgel under his skin the most, ripping apart the thin veneer of that man he once pretended to be—righteous and good—shedding it off with each hiccupped gasp you make when he presses his come-slicked fingers inside of you, murmuring guttural words of affection in the shape of impish mockery (want it bad, don't you, sweet thing; so fuckin’ greedy for it, love—). 

He likes it the most when he can fuck you stupid on his fingers. Cockdrunk, and come-starved (because you are, of course; he hasn't come inside of your cunt in weeks, and doesn't miss the mournfully pitiful whines you give when he pulls out, depriving you of the pleasure of feeling him come inside you), you're too blissed out, swimming in pleasure, to think about what he's doing. 

In fact, he doesn't really give you much of a chance to think at all. 

The next few weeks are filled with him fucking you each night brutally, viciously, snarling low in your ear about how bad he wants to come in you, stuff you full, and then keep you plugged up all night with his cock that it takes, and then pulling out right before, committing the sight of your betrayed expression to memory where it'll sit like a trophy when you finally break. 

You make an appointment with your gynaecologist, and circle the date on his calendar. 

John notes it down. Tucks it away. 

And then he amps up the pressure.

John's fingers root behind your knees, pushing your thighs apart as he settles between them. His gaze drills into your bare cunt, slick and wet, and so ready for him. Eager for it. 

He'd counted the days, and knows that if there's ever the absolute worst time to have unprotected sex, to come inside of you, is now. 

Which, of course, means he has to. The clause in that is ironclad. Apodictic. 

“Bit dangerous,” he rasps, and lifts your leg up, resting your ankle on his shoulder. You fluster beneath him, panting and pretty, and fuck—he’s not pulling out of your pussy tonight at all. “Should I pull out?” 

It's a tease. A test. 

He reaches down as he says the words, gripping his cock and bringing it down against your wet heat. The bare, blunt head of his cocks slaps against your clit, and you arch, keening. Nails bite into the thick muscles of his biceps, and he leans into the sharp sting. Letting it ground him. Centre him. 

This will be your cacoëthes. 

He's been depriving you for weeks, and John knows that you're wanting for it. Desperate. The little twitches your hips give, as if begging him to fill you up, are proof enough of how much you want this. 

This. The dream he dripped into your ears, hot oil congealing over your frontal lobe; infectious and thick. You can try to chisel it off, but the pollution is already damning. Ruining. 

You want this. He wears the axiom like armour. 

And you beg for it—eyes shaded in gut wrenchingly beautiful lachrymose—and John snuffles closer, inching the weeping head of his cock into your tight, warm heat. 

The sight of splitting you open is something he never grows tired of. Something that, without fail, makes his balls ache. His chest thrum. Blood turns to ichor. To wine. He's drunk on the contrast made between you—a garish chiaroscuro of your pretty pussy, soft and sickly sweet—almost nauseatingly so—swallowing down the fat, girthy length of his cock. The thick streams of veins running along the flushed, heavy shaft against your puffy, soft folds is almost hideous. Sinful. He can't equate it to anything else except corruption. The horrific beast sullying the princess. 

And fuck—

The thought alone makes him throb. 

He's sullied you plenty, he reckons, and yet you always look so sweet. Especially now, when your rim is stretched taut around the thick of him, pussy squeezing, clenching around him in a vice, as if you weren't sure to push him out or pull him deeper. 

John decides for you. Opting instead to push your knees down to your chest, nearly brushing your ears, and follows with the bulk of his body until he feels your breath rush out of your lungs. You struggle for a moment, gasping wetly into his ear as his weight—every bearish pound of it—rests on you in the perfect mating press. Your bite into his biceps, keening prettily into his ear as he bullies the full length of his cock into you. Spears you open. Splits you apart. 

He can feel you gush around him, drenching his groin and thighs with your slick. 

Like this—chest to chest, forced to breathe in the same air, the same madness—he likes to just stare at you, taking in the heat simmering under your skin, the sweat beading along your temple, the pinch in your brow as you struggle to adjust to the sheer width of him cudgelling you open. A battering ram you're forced to make room for. 

He takes it all in, each flicker of emotion, each heaving gasp. Burns it into his memory. Lets it soften the iron around his heart. Keeps it there, nestled in the cradle of his limited love, held aloft by indelicate, bearish hands. This sweet thing. 

He can't wait to ruin it. 

If these weeks leading up to this were lovemaking, fucking, then this, this, is mating. Animalistic. Primal. He pushes in as deep as he can, until the tip kisses the ripened seal of your womb, and grinds his hips cruelly into the cradle of your thighs. 

Your nails leave bloodied indents in his flesh. A scar he'll proudly bear the mark of. A tattoo of the time when he turned you into something new. 

His balls are soaked. The sheets, too. He mocks you for it, a rasping growl lodged deep in his throat, taunting you about how fucking wet you are for him. How badly you need it. 

“Gotta plug you up, hm?” He grunts, and sets a pace that serves only to accentuate the sloppy, messy squelch of your cunt. 

His cock pistoning into you, alternating between deep, full thrusts that knock the air from your lungs, and heavy, slow plunges meant to badger the blunt head of his cock against your walls. 

You seem to like it best when he shifts his weight between each thigh, content to just grind into you. Make you feel every inch of him. You cling to him, yowling in his ear about how good it feels, how much you love this, love his cock—

The thick bed of wry, umber curls on his chest, stomach, and groin grow slick with sweat from the intensity of it all, from the shared heat. Pressed tight against you, he feels every quiver. Every flinch. Each moan is made known in a slight reverberation across his skin before he hears it. 

Drenched in sweat, glued to you as he fucks you into the mattress, John feels very much like the beast making a house out of a twisted whim in his head. Feverish, sick, he drives into you with the single minded goal of filling that home up with three. Then four. Five—

As many as you'll let him.

And he almost loses himself to that thought alone. Dancing sugar plums that make his balls tighten. He stems the flood by pulling out of you, letting his heavy cock slap against your sticky, soaked cunt as he heaves into your hairline, sucking in the heady loam, the humus, of your scent. 

The whimper you make when he pulls out of you sounds like a wounded animal, and the noise tickles across his hindbrain. His jaw aches. He bites down on a snarl as you thrash against him, mindless with the need to have him inside of you. It brings a nasty, vicious curl to the ends of his mouth, and he doesn't even bother trying to tamper it down. John lifts his head and lets you see his foaming muzzle, drooling with thick globes of saliva. 

“Stay still,” he growls, low and dangerous. It's as much of a warning as it is a command, and the way you react, tensing, coiling tight—the flash of unease. Shock. And then the need. Achy, heavy. He feels it against his jugular when you shiver, moaning his name into the space between you where it reeks of desperation. 

To soften the submissive tremble in your jaw—and maybe to temper down the challenging talons sharpening in your gaze—he nuzzles his cheek against yours, peppers wet kisses to your skin. He licks across your jaw, bites down on your flesh. 

He tastes salt and sin on your skin. 

(His eyes roll so far back into his skull he thinks he might get lost.)

“Gonna cum on your pretty cunt if you don't stop squirming, love.” 

And John loves you most for your waspish intelligence—the ire smouldering in your throat. The way you bite back just as hard, never afraid to bear teeth when he snarls. He doesn't think he could ever love someone too soft—not without tearing them to pieces. To shreds. 

But you wear plush, tender conchoidal skin over jagged, rough obsidian. He'll ruin himself if he ever tries to rip you apart. 

Like this, though—you melt. 

All that keen, vicious intelligence snuffed out. His scheming Cleopatra tamed on his cock. 

Your heels dig into the back of his thighs, urging him closer to your sex. “Come on, John, just fuck me, fuck me already—”

(Tamed, though, perhaps being a misnomer.)

He huffs into your neck. “Impatient little quean.”

It gets him a sharp bite to the tip of his ear, and the floor roars so loudly in his veins, he gets dizzy from it. 

“Fuck—”

He's pressing back into you again, into your warm, tight heat, and it's nirvana kissing his nerves. Liquifying his spine. He rolls into you with a weighted groan, buried to the hilt once more. 

But even with the respite, he knows he won't last. 

John needs you fucked stupid, docile and soft just for him, and sets out to do just that. Pounding into you with a spiteful twist of his hips that he knows will leave you a little sore, and tender tomorrow. But the idea of spreading your puffy, achy folds apart and soothing the slight hurt with his tongue for hours until you're sobbing into the cushions quells any hesitation that rears, begging him to slow down. 

Go easy on your pretty cunt.

(As if.)

John batters into you until your eyes glaze over, and your chin, cheeks, smear with drool. Until the challenge in midnight black melts into submission. Docile, and malleable. Perfect for him to mould. Shape. 

Reshape.

He glues to you, touch starved and tactile, and basks in the liquid heat that blooms from deep within you. 

“Gonna cum soon,” he snarls, broken by the heave in his chest as he fucks into you, starved. “Gotta pull out, love—”

You're gripping him tighter, anchoring him to your body. You haven't come yet. Something he dangles in front of you like a threat. 

He watches the slow crawl of realisation crest over your messy face, and thinks he falls just a little bit more in love with you at the sight of your little pout. 

Loves, even more, the way it breaks apart when he pounds into you harder, viciously, watching drool dribble off your chin, and reason leak from your ears—

“Please, John—” the sound of your whimpering has him grunting, head dizzy with the saccharine sweet taste of it on his tongue. “Please, please—come inside me. I–I want you to–to fill me up—”

“Yeah?” He taunts, mean and breathless. “Want me to come inside your sloppy cunt? Dangerous, ain't it? Jus’ might take, sweet thing. Is that what you want?”

You're howling a litany of sin into his ear, desperation drenches each clamour of his name, each orison uttered, begging him to come, to fill you up, and then—

“Fuck—I want it so bad—” his head is filled with static. Whitenoise. “Want it to take, John—”

He comes inside of you, cock pulsing so hard it feels like a sob. Filling you up. Wishing on all the stars that it takes—

As a reward for your good behaviour, he spreads you out over the sheets, and growls his approval into your sopping pussy, drenching himself with the taste, the smell, of you, promising to wear it like a perfume so everyone knows how good you are for him. Him, alone. 

(His, his, his—)

When you come, you nearly smother him, and he thinks he sees a glimpse of nirvana in baby soft yellow before he's pulled back by your shaking hands brushing the hair off his sweat-slicked forehead. 

“Are you okay, John—”

He rolls you under him, fucking into your drenched pussy like a man starved. That tantalising vision glues itself to his hindbrain, so close he can scent the fresh dew of fresh milk, and warm bread in his nose. Feel the bump of your stomach. 

He's almost angry about it, about being ripped away from that dream, and takes his aggression out on your sloppy, leaking cunt. The way his come trickles out, staining the mattress below and the back of your thighs has him growling darkly into your nape. 

“Keep it in,” he snarls, words sharpened on the whetstone of his need. “Keep it all inside, love.” 

“Ah, John, John—” something falls from your split-slicked lips, and his fingers bite into your hips. Punishment for the slurred backtalk. 

“I'll spank your ass if any of it leaks out—”

It does. Of course it does. 

He bends you over his knee, and slaps his broad, rough palm over each cheek ten times before deliriously shoving two thick fingers into your sloppy cunt, stuffing his come back inside your tender, swollen hole, rough and mean, as you howl, squirming in his lap about how you promise you'll be good next time, John, please—I'll keep it all in, I swear, I—

“You fuckin’ better, love.” He groans, and thinks about cumming on your messy face, all slick with sweat, and drool, but decides against it. A waste, he thinks, and leans over you to shove the thick, twisting length of his angry cock inside you to the hilt just spit his release against your seal once more. 

“That was…” You're still panting against his chest, eyes dazed, and body laxed. Melted wax over his chest. “Intense,” you settle on after a beat. 

There's a hiccup in your breath when he hums, chest rumbling with the sound. 

“Mm, but you liked it, didn't you?”

Of course you did. Of course. The evidence of it is drying, tacky and slick, on his groin, his thighs. 

You burrow into his side, peeking at him from over the thick bed of wry curls that clot over his chest. “You're fucking me like you haven't in years, John. Makes me wonder if you have an agenda.”

He considers your words. The weight of them. Wonders just how much you've clued into, but huffs when he catches the same look in your eyes as the one reflected in his own.

Cheeky little—

“Can't I just want to fuck you? Not everything has to be about schemes, love.” 

The oil of his lies, the sticky resin of his evasion makes you huff into his skin.

In all his meticulous planning, he'd picked up several books on this particular topic, and scoured every available, reputable, site he could find. John knows what to look out for by now, and keeps a keen eye on you—one that very quickly dips into obsessiveness, but you're kind enough to call it overbearing. 

Jesus Christ, John, why are you asking me how many times I pissed today? 

He just needs to wait things out. 

But rather irritatingly, he's called away overseas for the next week. 

Ah, well. He'll have to try harder next time. 

He arrives in Heathrow mid-morning, and follows Laswell into the office. There's a mountain of reports to fill out—things that, rather irritatingly, require his signature—and resolves to spend the rest of the day hunched over at his desk, even though there's an itch in the back of his skull demanding he go home. 

It is always like this, though—both the post-mission ritual of banal paperwork that seems almost comical considering what he'd just done, and the undeniable urge to flee back into the sanctuary of your shared home. 

His bones ache for it. 

Laswell huffs when he lingers by the exit, and he swallows a groan. 

While he was away, you'd been silent. Moreso than usual. 

Where he'd have expected an update on what was going on—the mundanity of your life that he clings to when the beast in his head whets its talons a little too sharp, digs into a little too deep—you’ve gone silent. Not radio. Not completely. But the information you give is sparse. Cagey.

You don't tell him about the visit to the gynaecologist, offering nothing but a quiet hum into the receiver, all blase and nonchalant, and a simple, equivocal: “good.” 

He tucks it away, lets the matter drop. 

If he timed things correctly—barring your impish prevarication aside—then something will begin to show soon. You would have mentioned something. Some nominal change to your physical well-being, but when pried, pressed, you huff. 

“I'm good, John. When are you coming home, anyway?”

He raps his knuckles on his desk, still smarting from the punches he'd thrown recklessly this past week, too keyed up to let his anger simmer instead of boil, and thinks. About you. About this. 

A week isn't a lot of time—he’s been called away for months in the past—but this feels like it's lingering. Time stretched and distorted. Elongated. And a part of him feels chipped, fractured after touchdown. 

It wasn't as if this particular assignment was any more, or less, dangerous than the ones he went on before. If anything, it was comparatively mild. Muted. He honed into his training, and did his goddamn job. And yet—

Yet. 

You lived in the spaces he occupied. The air he breathed. The water he drank. 

He brought you with him, something he's never, ever, done before. Perched pretty on his shoulder, he heard your voice in his head with every step he took, every radio call. 

But it was hallucinatory. Chimerical. You weren't there, you were here, but the problem lies in the lack of a divide that usually bifurcates the world into two fractions: his job and you.

It eats at him. 

He brought you where he's never taken anyone before. Never let them in. 

His thoughts were asunder. Pulled in all directions, but the centre was always you. His compass pointing north. He wants you. Needs you. His whole being has been recalibrated with the needle aimed toward you. 

An alert on his phone shakes him from his reverie. 

He reaches for it, slides his hand across the lockbar. The notification pops up. A message from his bank. 

His card—the one he gave you, the one you've used all of once to buy a chocolate bar when he gruffly, surely, complained about you not spending his money—has been used. 

Curious now, he opens his app, eyes scanning the threadbare purchases—all mostly interest fees and service charges, bar one. It was recently used at a drugstore for under twenty dollars. 

He doesn't know what this means, what you're playing at. He makes to text you, but he gets an email next. 

Thank you for your purchase; here is your e-receipt. 

His heart does something strange in his chest. Turns in on itself. Goes all askew. 

Not only are you using his card, you're using his account, too. He clicks it, eyes scanning through the purchases (only two), and blinks. 

A card, and—

His want takes the shape of a hand, presses against his jugular. 

—a pregnancy test. 

He knew when he started this game that this was, of course, the inevitable outcome, but having it here, right in front of him—in that sneaky, noncommittal way you always do things; behind his back, and in the dark, like you enjoy watching him try and sniff out the truth—has his belly knotting up. Churning. 

A pregnancy test. 

Fuck—

(and out of all the ways to tell him, you cheeky little—)

He's up out of his chair before he's even aware that he's standing. 

“Laswell,” he gets out, and can't be sure how his voice is so measured when his head is being shredded into pieces. “I'm out for the rest of the day. This whole bloody week, too—”

“Something bad happen?” 

His hands shake when he pulls his jacket on, slips his car keys into his hands. “No. Quite the opposite, actually. I'm going to be a father. A bloody dad—”

It's on that sentiment when his voice breaks. Shatters. He clears his throat, blinks furiously. Fuck. Fuck. It's happening—

Shangri-la sits in his fist, taking the shape of an e-mailed receipt. 

In his periphery, he sees Simon's head come up. Watching him. Measured. 

Laswell, too, eyes him with a degree of wariness. He supposes to them this means the end of everything. 

She breathes in. “Tuscany would be my choice.”

“Oh?” He tears his eyes away from the screen, gracing her with a steady, unflinching look. “Was thinking something a bit more local. Liverpool.”

It gets a scoff, one full of disgust. “She'll divorce you within the year.” 

“I'm having a baby, Laswell. Not getting married.”

“Oh, no?” It's a challenge. “I seem to recall something about someone being a proper gentleman, or was that just the lie you told your unofficial missus?”

“We'll get married. That's not up for debate—” an intern makes an alarmed face, like perhaps it ought to be. Had he not been holding nirvana in his hand, he might be a bit more cautious with his madness. Too bloody bad. “Wherever she wants—Tuscany, Udaipur, fucking Siberia. I don't care. What I’m a bit more concerned with is my expectant wife.” 

“Soon-to-be,” she volleys, just because she knows it's the sort of thing that will itch under his skin. 

“Already is, Laswell.” He gripes, flat. “Or damn near close to it.” 

“If she knows what's good for her, she'll say no.”

“Lucky me, then, that she doesn't.” 

Lucky him, indeed. 

On his way out, Ghost utters a heated congratulations to him, and John can see his gaze is absent. Turned inward, mind whirring. Reeling. He can hear the gears grind from where he stands, and if the ink-black madness in his lieutenant’s drifting, pensive eyes means much of anything, then John sends a silent hail mary to whatever unlucky person was misfortune enough to unleash the muzzle on that particular dog. 

Well. It's not really his problem. Until it is. Until it becomes one. But since it's not something that'll impact him in the next five minutes, he tucks it away. “Thanks.” 

He doesn't linger. Doesn't, really, even remember the ride home, head buzzing with thoughts that keep twisting around themselves, driving him mental. Things like, is it real? what if you were joking. what you weren't? 

Oh, fuck—

You better not be. 

But you wouldn't. You're conniving and wily, but you're not cruel. 

This is happening, then. 

You've been playing house with matches inside of a tinderbox. He shouldn't be surprised when it all goes up in flames, in smoke, but as he walks through the door, and glimpses the pregnancy test perched innocently on the counter beside a card—congrats, daddy (and the caricature of a man in a pinstripe suit nearly makes him gag)—he feels all the maligned pieces inside of crack. 

It shifts—

You walk out, hand cupped protectively over your lower belly. Eyes gleaming like a wild cat crouched low in the tussocks surrounding the savannah, watching him an eager sense of anticipation, excitement, and just the slightest edge of what he can only imagine the unfortunate mate of a black widow sees before it's consumed. Spare parts. 

It thrums inside of him. Ignites this wicker basket he calls a heart until it's cinder. Ash. Soot. He breathes it in. Tastes you on his tongue. 

John doesn't have the words. Can't think beyond the steady brag of his burning heart. 

His. His.

—and then it all falls into place. 

Yours.

He dotes on you with an almost unhinged devotion, murmuring stilted, gruff words of muted affection into the shallow bump on your belly. Ones that you, politely, pretend not to hear. 

A new bedtime ritual, one he adheres to with an almost obsessive need. 

Until it becomes too much. 

“Go and get my prenatal vitamins from the washroom, please. I just need five minutes without you smothering me, you stupid bear of a man.”

“You love it,” he grumbles, but acquiesces, giving your small, barely there bump a pat. “I'll be back soon.”

“Oh, no… please take your time.” 

Despite the prickle in your tongue, your eyes are soft. Warm. Melting him just a little more. 

John pulls away, and doesn't even pretend the reluctance to be apart is feigned. 

“It's in the drawer,” you call, voice stretched. Echoing. “Next to your shaving cream.” 

He pulls the drawer open, scanning the contents briefly, before finding the purple bottle in the back. Why you chose here of all places to put the bloody things—

His knuckles knock against the old box of condoms, tipping it over. There's a strange rattle as it falls, and his brows furrow at the noise. 

Curiously, he reaches for it. Shakes it as he picks it up. The same sounds spill out. He pops the flap of the box open, peering inside, and—

A gruff chuckle crackles in his throat. 

Inside the old box of condoms—the ones he never bothered to throw out, or use—is an accumulation of all the pills you'd meant to take. 

His jowls ache. He rubs at his jaw with his hand, and feels the skittish patter of his heart thudding out of his skin. Madness in his veins. 

John closes the drawer with his knee, and then tosses the box of condoms in the bin, leaving it for you to find later when you're inevitably wracked by another wave of morning sickness. A little shred of vindication for this little game you made him play. 

Though he supposes turn-about is fair play, and the number of pills in the box is less than the months he spent scheming for this vision of his.  

In the back of his head, the beast purrs.

“Do we need to play these games again for the next one,” he rasps. “Or can I just fuck you until it takes.” 

You blink at him, wide and owlish. Full of faux innocence as you coax the beast out of hiding. “I don't know what you're talking about, John.” 

More games, then. He thinks he might crack open your ribcage and rest his weary head on the frantic beat of your heart. 

“Mm, don't know what I'd do without you,” he says, guns aching. He reaches for the pack of gum (no smoking around the baby or you'd toss him off the balcony), and pops a spearmint into his mouth. “Might live longer, I reckon, but—”

Your elbow digs into his side. “You sure about that?”

He just kisses your crown in response, and places his heavy, scarred hand over the curve of your belly. The beast inside purrs, content for now. Satiated. 

When he looks into your midnight eyes, he finds your own beast slumbering away. 

A match made in a tinderbox, he guesses, and kisses you until you're dizzy. His very own Shangri-la sitting pretty inside his bed, nestled in the castle in Spain you helped him build.

Will help him fill. 

[eddiesxangel]

Could you do a smutty Eddie Munson fic where he’s your older brother’s bsf?

maybe reader has had a crush on Eddie for a while and when she finally decides to move on and date someone Eddie gets jealous?

What Eddie Doesn’t Know | Eddie x f!reader

AN: I hope you enjoy it! Sorry it took a while to complete. Thank you for the request; I haven’t been inspired by anything non-Christmas-themed in a while. I was literally barking at the trope.

wc: 7.1k oops

Cw: f!reader, reader is 19 and in collage and Eddie is 22 and a full time mechanic, reader goes by a nickname, jealous Eddie, jealous reader, angst, cheating (on the reader but not by Eddie), smut (pet names, oral, dirty talk, p in v), the fluffy ending!

Pathetic. That was how you felt at this moment in time. Here you were at your college homecoming party, and all you could do was be a wallflower, watching in self-pity as the love of your life. ( who doesn’t know is the love of your life) is pressed up on some girl in the back of the room.

"What are you doin' here, Tink?" you pop out of your daze to see your older brother, Adam, addressing you.

Did your parents name you Tink? No. Were you so obsessed with Peter Pan as a child you demanded to go by Tinkerbell? Yes. The nickname kinds just stuck.

"I go here?" You sass him back.

"This party is for upperclassmen only. How did you get in?" Adam was only three years older.

"Eddie's here, and he doesn't even attend school..." You gave him a pointed look.

"Yeah, cuz he is my best friend... like I said, how did you get in?"

"It's a house party, not Studio 54... I walked in."

"I'm going to kill Cory," He mumbled under his breath. Cory was supposed to be manning the door.

"Yeah, you should definitely get better security, all I had to do was let him feel up my tits, and we walked right on in..."

The Neanderthal didn't actually touch you, but the look on Adam's face when you let Adam believe he did? Priceless. You only lied so Adam would leave you alone.

What actually happened was you, Nancy, and Robin scaled the fence and got in through the back door.

"Cory!" Before you knew it, Adam was out of your hair, and you were back to being a wallflower….

"Tink there you are! You wanna continue to mope in the corner, or do you wanna get out of here?" your two best friends/roomies, Robin and her girlfriend Nancy, approach you.

"I guess let's just go." you sigh.

You can no longer bear the sight of Eddie, the boy you've been crushing on since the sixth grade, and your older brother’s best friend, leading the random girl up the stairs hand in hand.

Your stomach lurched at the thought of her hands running all over his body, how he would be on her, kissing her... inside of her. He didn't even know you were here... You should have gone up to him, maybe said hello. Perhaps he would have seen the ridiculous amount of effort you put into your ensemble just to catch his eye. But your efforts were lacking because, to him, you're always going to be Adam's annoying little sister.

You knew you had to get over this, but how could you? He has been in your life for fifteen years and always will be. Adam and Eddie have been friends for as long as you can remember. Your brother stuck by him throughout Eddie's family struggles. Your parents even took him in for a few weeks before CPS found his uncle took over full custody. He was basically your big brother, too, until your pesky teenage hormones started to kick in, and boom! You've been head over heels ever since.

''Good, let's get some greasy burgers and fries to end the night, ok?" Robin smiled.

In the 24-hour diner on campus, you were sitting at your regular booth with the girls across from you, eating your feelings, trying not to think about what Eddie was doing with that girl.

"So that party was a bust, huh?" Nancy spoke first.

"Yeah, totally... probably because Adam's house hosted." You giggled.

"Not to mention Eddie still didn't see you -OUCH." Robin looked over at Nancy, who was giving her a look of distaste. "Sorry, I meant he is an idiot, and you need to get over him! There are plenty of eligible guys on campus who you could date!"

"Even though my girlfriend is being is harsh, she is right, Tink. It's been so long, and you'll kill yourself over this if you keep this up."

"Ugh, I know! Do you think I'm a masochist or something? I hate to break it to you, but I do not enjoy this. I hate it. I hate that he is the one I think about every day when I wake up. I hate it when I go to sleep; he is the last person on my mind. He takes over my thoughts, and I don't know how to stop it!" You shove a fry into your mouth so you can take a breather.

"What if we found you a new guy? Someone to take your mind off Eddie?" Nancy perked up at her idea.

You heard the diner doorbells chime from behind you.

"I don't know..." Putting all your time and energy into someone new seemed like a lot of emotional work you wanted to avoid going through.

"Yes! Oh my god, Tink, you have to. It's the only way you'll get over him!"

"Get over who?" The silky, sweet voice of a male came from behind you.

You and the girls froze as Eddie, your brother, and a few other guys approached the table.

"No one." You mumbled, trying to fight off the blood rushing across your chest and cheeks.

"You can tell us, Tink! Who are we fighting?" Eddie laughed.

"Tink? What kind of stupid name is that?" one of Adam's jerk friends spoke.

"Excuse me?" you turn to see the guy you've never met.

You heard Adam burst out laughing with the rest of them, but not Eddie.

"Hey man, not cool!" Eddie stood up for you.

And there went the butterflies in your stomach. Eddie was always your protector. Even as kids, when Adam picked on you, he always stood up for you. Even if you weren't around, Eddie always put Adam in his place when it came to you.

You saw, out of the corner of your eye, Eddie shifted his weight down so he could sit beside you. Then, you felt a protective arm wrap around your shoulder.

Fuck. This shit right here is why you can never get over Eddie Munson.

You dared to look up; there he was in all his glory. The way the fluorescent light from above had cast down on him made him look like an angel. He smiled at you, but not before you noticed the dishevelled sex hair he tried to fix and the small amount of pink lipstick that stained the skin on his neck that he didn't quite get off. And the smell… sickly sweet perfume that was definitely not his signature musk.

You quickly turn your head back to your plate because you think you're about to puke up everything you just ingested…

"You, if you don't leave us alone." Robin piped up. She saw the look of pure disappointment in your eyes. You didn't need Eddie to rub in the fact that he hooked up with someone, especially since now he is smelling like a cheap hooker.

Robin and Nancy thought it was incredibly rude of your brother to flaunt Eddie in front of you like this. Of course, he knew your mega super infinity crush on his best friend. Yet here he is with his drunk-ass buddies, antagonizing you about the guy you needed to get over.

"Woah, Birdie, take it easy; we are just saying hello," Adam chimed in.

“You said hello at the party. Now leave!” You gritted through your teeth.

“You were at the party?” Eddie asked. His voice hitched high. High enough, it was embarrassingly so. Thankfully, his friends were too drunk and hungry to realize. A deep blush crossed his face when he saw you noticed the tone in his voice change. You just have a slight nod and continue to play with the food on your plate.

That’s why you were so dressed up. Eddie thought you looked so pretty, too pretty to be sad about some looser in a diner at one in the morning.

"Do we have a problem here?" A voice none of you recognized came from the booth beside you.

You all look over and see a cute guy with blonde hair and blue eyes wearing your school's rugby jersey. He was so not your type, but you can still admire beauty for what it is. He was a jock; that was clear as he stood up. He was big, more significant than your brother and Eddie, that's for sure.

"Nah, man, it's cool. This is my little sister and her friends." Adam slurs. Clearly, he had more shots since he left you to find Cory.

"I don't care who you are. You're clearly bothering them."

"It's okay, they were just leaving," Nancy said confidently.

"Whatever, let's go, guys," Adam commanded the pac, but Eddie lingered. He didn't like this blondie guy. He didn't like the way he was looking at you.

"Ed, come on!'

Eddie got up and slowly made his way to his friends.

"I'm Jesse," Eddie heard the musclehead speak, and he cringed internally. Something wasn't right. The feelings of anger and protectiveness were filling his mind.

Eddie looked back again and saw you smelling at the stranger as he reached out to shake your hand before sitting beside you.

What kind of freak is alone in a diner at 1:15 am? Eddie thought.

But it didn't seem to phase you or the girls; you were all blinded by his shiny hair and pearly white smile.

Eddie walked out and felt like he wanted to punch something. He needed to get away. He needed to know what the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he feeling this way? Why were you the one causing him distress? You were just Tink? Or so Eddie thought.

Jesse turned out to be really cool. You exchanged numbers, and he asked you to go to the movies next Friday. You hadn’t been on a date in forever; you had been so hung up on Eddie that any other guy seemed uninteresting. But this time, you were determined that Jesse would be the one to break the cycle. He was much different than you’re generally into, but you have some of the same interests, like movies and music, so you thought you’d go for it.

Jesse picked you up, bought the tickets, and insisted on buying the snacks and drinks. He held your hand and then slowly made his way to wrap his arm around your shoulder. It gave you butterflies you hadn’t felt from anyone else. Before you knew it, you willingly leaned in to make out with him in the back of the theatre.

You were so focused on Jesse that you didn’t notice Eddie was also on a date in the same theatre. But Eddie noticed you. He was seething the whole time. He didn’t pay any attention to his date or the movie. He hogged the popcorn and munched away as he watched you giggle and flirt with the blockhead jock. Eddie didn’t care that he had pissed off his date. He hardly said two words to her when they parted ways, not even offering to drive her home.

He didn’t want to go out with her but had hooked up with her at the party and felt terrible about it then. Now, he can’t even remember her name or why he went upstairs with her in the first place.

You were there, at the party, but he didn’t see you. Now he sees you everywhere, and it’s pissing him off. Why were you on his mind all of the time? For the past week, why have his dreams been consumed by you and you alone? Why did he want to hold you, be with you, talk to you, dare he say… kiss you? You were Adam’s little sister. Well, not so little anymore. You were a late bloomer, but boy, did you bloom.

Eddie hated how the blonde meathead’s hand rested too low on your back. His hands grazed your skirt a little too closely. Eddie wanted to jump the guy, but he couldn’t. He was twice his size. He would be pulverized, and that would be mortifying in front of you. You wouldn’t want him like that anyway, even if he did win in a fight over you!

What the fuck was Eddie thinking? He wasn't… that's the problem. He's now thinking about getting into a physical altercation over you. He isn't able to sleep now without thinking about you. He needed to get his head on straight and quit fucking around. He hoped that if he just focused on the cars at work, this little thing would go away on its own. Maybe he can't remember that he had slipped and hit his head? Yeah, that's it. He hit his head, and now his brain is just confused. He didn't like you like that! This will all go away by tomorrow.

Wrong.

Eddie was plagued with thoughts of you. He caught himself in numerous daydreams about you while doing mindless tuneups and tire changes at the shop. It was getting out of hand; it’s been another week, and he still can’t get you off his mind… Eddie needed to be proactive. The guys were starting to give him shit about it too. They knew he was focused on a girl. They could sense it.

There was another party tonight that Adam mentioned. He will go home and get cleaned up. Then he will go to the party, he will find a nice pretty girl who will let him bury himself inside her, to forget about his thoughts of splitting your open with his cock, and this will all be over.

You walked into the party hand in hand with Jesse. He was starting to make waves in your life, being only two weeks, but still. He would walk you to your classes and help you study in the library. He would walk you home and kiss you goodbye like the perfect gentleman. He hadn't tried making any advances as of yet. The two of you had only made it to first base. Maybe tonight you would get lucky? You felt ready.

“You want something to drink?” Jesse guided you to the kitchen.

The house was hot and sticky; you were worried about your hair getting frizzy. You worked so hard on it to look good for Jesse. He even complimented it when he picked you up. Forever the gentleman.

“Whatever they have is good.” You smiled up at him.

As the two of you walked into the packed kitchen, you tried to squeeze your way around but got stuck in the crowd. It was much easier for Jesse to get by just with his size alone.

“Excuse me,” you repeated three times, but no one was budging.

“You should be a little bit more assertive,” the voice behind you said. It sent a shiver down your spine.

As you turned, you saw Eddie smirking down at you. He was drunk. You could see that and smell it.

“Hi, Eddie.” You smiled meekly before you felt the weight of Jesse’s arm wrap around you, passing you your drink.

“There you are,” Jesse smiled. "Who's this?"

"That's just Eddie...Eddie, Jesse. Jesse, Eddie." You introduced awkwardly.

Just Eddie. The words stung.

"How do the two of you know each other?" Jesse gestures between the two of you.

"Brothers best friend." You smile.

"That's all I am to you? You wound me, Tink."

The fuck was that supposed to mean?

"Eddie, man! I got us two hotties over by the pool. Let's go!" In comes your obnoxious brother with perfect timing, as always.

"I guess I'll see you around." Eddie sighed.

"Nice meeting you, man." Jesse stuck out his hand.

"Whatever." Eddie brushed him off and left with Adam.

"I'm sorry about him. That was very rude. I don't?- He's usually not like that?"

"It's okay; I can tell a jealous guy when I see one." Jesse shrugged.

You almost spat out your drink. "Jealous?!"

"Oh, it's clear as day, honey."

"No... there is no way. He's never and will never like me... like that." It broke your heart to say that out loud. Your chest felt so heavy as the words came out of your mouth.

As the rest of the night went on, you and Eddie tried avoiding one another like the plague. Those words about him being jealous were swimming around in your head for most of the night, and Eddie was trying to avoid his feelings by being with another girl, but not one stood out to him.

Adam tried getting lucky but struck out when Eddie refused to go with the friend.

"What the fuck is your problem, man? She was like a solid eight out of ten."

"I wasn't into it..." Eddie's eyes found you, and he couldn't break his gaze. You were curled up in the blockhead's lap, sitting by the fire pit, all cozy and giggly. What he would give to have you in his arms like that.

"Oh fuck, not you now." Adam groaned in frustration, seeing where Eddie's googly eyes were directed.

"Huh?" Eddie said absentmindedly, not really paying attention.

"You can't be serious?! That's my little sister, dude; come on!" Adam was always one for the dramatics; that's why he and Edie got on so well.

"Woah, man, I never said anything about your sister."

"Well, it sure is clear by the way you're making heart eyes at her."

"Yeah, right," Eddie scoffed.

"Trust me, dude, it's that same way she looks at you." Adman shook his head. He thought he would be clear of this. That this would never happen, and yet here it is, happening.

"Wait, what? What do you mean?-"

"She's been in love with you since she was twelve... come one like you didn't know?"

"No way, you smoked too much tonight, so something? Maybe my stuff is off?"

"She likes you, dude. Never fucking shuts up about you."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Didn't think it was relevant... I was never going to allow her to be with you! You serious? It's Tink, she's so...ew. You're so above that."

"She's not new," Eddie snapped. He hated how hard Adam had always been on you.

"Whatever, man, too late now. About time she has moved on."

Eddie stood up and walked out of the party without a word. He heard Adam call out, but he ignored him completely. He needed to process what Adam told him. He needed to sober up so he could think clearly. He needed to either make you his or find a way to get over you... and fast.

That night of the party, you didn't end up getting lucky. You tried making advances, but you inevitably were shot down. He said he didn't want your first time to be when you both had been drinking and in some random bathroom. So you accepted it, even though your horny gremlin was starting to come back to life. But what did happen was he asked you to make it official with him, and you said yes!

Tonight, you had to leave the apartment for your roommate's sake. It was their anniversary, and you told them you could have the place to themselves for a romantic evening. When you told Jesse, your new boyfriend, you needed a place to crash, he offered you his bed. You would go to your classes and then return to his for your first sleeepover as a couple. You were so excited!

Jesse ended class at one in the afternoon that day, and you ended at five, so it worked out perfectly. Luckily enough for you, your professor for your last lecture was ill, so they cancelled class that day. You thought it would be fun to surprise him by showing up early.

When you got to his house, his roommate let you in and said he was in his room with his friend Connor. So when you knocked on the door and walked in a few seconds later, you did not expect to see the two men in bed, naked...

You screamed and covered your eyes, absolutely mortified that you had walked in on them. You were so unbelievably hurt that you had been deceived. Why would he ask you to be exclusive if he was sleeping around?! And on the night when you thought you would get to have sex with your new boyfriend.

You did not give Jesse any time to explain himself as he tried to get out of the tangled sheets and arms of the other man. You heard your name being called out, but you ran out of there like a bat out of hell.

Tears stung your cheeks as the cold autumn air began to settle in. The rumble of the dark clouds was also looking quite ominous.

Just your luck. Of course, you would find your boyfriend in the arms of another man, and of course, the universe would make you walk him in the rain. How poetic.

A crack of thunder rumbled in the distance, and that's when the rain came down in buckets. At least it could cover up your tears. You continued walking, but you couldn't think of a place to go? You could not ruin your roommate's night. There is no way Adam would let you stay in his frat house, not that you would want to anyway, and your friends from the class went home for the weekend. Shit... maybe you could spend the majority of the night in the diner and then just walk home really late once they were defiantly sleeping. But your clothes were soaked and---

“Tink, what’s wrong?” you were snapped out of your thoughts by none other than the man who was the cause of this whole mess.

Eddie rolled down the work van window. He was covered in motor oil and dirty from working all day. His muscles ached, and he badly needed a hot shower, but now all he could focus on was you and why you were upset.

“Leave me alone, Eddie.” He hadn’t ever heard you speak to him like this?

“Tink, come on, it’s a literal thunder storm. Let me take you home.”

“Can’t, girls are having date night… told them to have the place to themselves.” You continued to walk as the chill from the rain was beginning to seep through to your bones. Your teeth betray you as the chatter starts.

“Where were you supposed to be right now?”

“None of your business!”

“Tink, don’t make me pull over!”

“Screw you, Eddie!”

“That’s it.” Eddie parked the car and got out. “You’re coming with me.” Eddie picked you up over his shoulder, and you let out a screech.

“Eddie! Put me down, you caveman!” You screamed. If anyone saw you, it looked like you were being kidnapped and taken into a murder van.

“No, can do Tink. I’m taking you home to warm you up. Then you’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on.” He commanded. And if you weren’t so mad, you’d say you were a little turned on by his voice.

You hear the car door open before he plops you into the passenger seat.

“Get in” he points to your legs hanging out of the car.

“Make me.” you shiver.

“You’re being such a child! Let me help you.”

“Fine!” You swing your legs into the van, and Eddie slams the door closed, making you wince.

The car ride was quiet besides the radio and your chattering teeth. You tried to wrap your arms around yourself, but it was of no help. Your t-shirt and jeans clung to you like a second skin, and the car heater was only blowing cool air. You swore you thought your nipples could cut glass.

Eddie said nothing as he tugged you over on the bench seat and wrapped a warm arm around you. You broke out into another chill, but this time, you weren't sure if it was from the rain or from Eddie.

Even though Eddie was self-conscious of smelling like motor oil and body odour, he was more worried about you catching hypothermia.

Once you were inside Eddie's warm apartment, he noticed how your body was on display. You would be the clear winner if you were in a wet t-shirt contest, that's for sure. Eddi's eyes were wide with desire, but he returned to reality when you asked if you could use his shower to warm up.

Eddie nodded absentmindedly as he thought about you being naked in his shower.

"Uh, you mind if I borrow a towel and some dry clothes? I have mine, but they got soaked through my overnight bag..."

"Yeah! Uh- I mean, sure, yeah, whatever..."

You blushed slightly at Eddie, trying to play it cool. He ran to his bedroom and returned with a handful of different fabrics. You took them and then headed into the bathroom.

The hot water defrosted your bones, and when you stepped into Eddie's clothes, his sent hit you like a tidal wave. You brought the old black corroded coffin band tee that he had from high school up to your nose and inhaled deeply. You felt immediate comfort being here, with Eddie, wearing his clothes.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, hair wrapped in the towel, Eddie couldn't help but smile at the sight of you.

"Not a word," you warn.

Eddie mock zipped his lips, then gestured to the couch for you to sit beside him.

"Sorry about being a pain earlier; you caught me at a really, really bad time."

"It's okay, Tink, you're here with me now; that's all that matters." Eddie let the towel around your head fall back so he could see your natural hair. "You wanna tell me what happened? I've never seen you so upset."

"You shook your head no, "It's too embarrassing."

"Come on, it's me we are talking about here."

You paused for a deep breath and decided to just lay it all out on the table... how much worse could it get, right?

“You remember Jesse, right?” Eddie could feel his fist tightening, but he said nothing while nodding his head with a tight lip. What the fuck did he do to you? “Well, he asked me to be his girlfriends no less than a week ago, and I was supposed to spend the night at his place… but I went over early and found him in bed with… someone.” Eddie went to say something but realized you weren’t finished and let you continue.

“Pathetic, isn’t it?! I finally get a boyfriend, and the moment I want to actually sleep with someone who isn’t you, they are in the arms of someone else! Am I really that undesirable?! I was practically throwing myself at him, and it turns out he was fucking his “friend” the whole time.”

You had missed your slip-up, but Eddie hadn't. Eddie didn’t hear anything after “I want to sleep with someone who isn’t you,”

So Adam was right…

“Eddie? Eddddiiieee?” You snapped your fingers in front of his face to try and get back his attention.

Great, so now you’re undesirable AND boring.

“Sorry what?”

“Forget it… you don’t wanna hear about my pitty party. I’ll call a cab and head back to… oh shit, I can’t even go home!”

“Stay here.”

“Eddie, I couldn’t possibly-”

“Yes. Stay. Take my bed; I’ll take the couch.”

“Eddie, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not, Tink?” He brushed a fallen piece of hair behind your ear, and those pesky butterflies erupted within your core.

“Because…” because I’m in love with you and don’t know if I can hold back my feelings any longer.

“Exactly, you can’t come up with one. Let me take care of you.” Eddie’s voice dropped an octave.

A chill travelled down your spine. His touch is electric. Any time you’re with Eddie, your body feels like it’s been recharged.

As you gaze into Eddie’s eyes, this undeniable magnetic pull connects you. Was he leaning in? Or were you? Maybe it was the both of you? There was little to no space between you. Never in a million years did you think you would be sitting here, alone with Eddie in his apartment.

“I should get cleaned up,” Eddie whispered. He was so close you could taste the spearmint Nicorette gum he had been chewing. It took everything in his power to pull away. He wanted to kiss you so very badly, but he got a whiff of himself, and he needed to wash up. I would be unfair to you.

“Oh, okay,” you breathed in, and Eddie slid back.

“You can make yourself at home, okay? Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I’ll be 10 minutes.”

Eddie was freaking out in the shower, and you were freaking out in the kitchen. While Eddie scrubbed his skin so hard he thought he would scrub it off completely, you went to the fridge to find anything to help calm your nerves.

There wasn’t anything in the fridge, but the freezer, on the other hand... Bingo. You poured yourself a shot of vodka and almost threw up, but you held it together with a chaser of orange juice. You took one more for good measure and then made your way back to the couch. As you waited for your liquid courage to kick in, you flicked around on the TV but didn’t really pay much attention. Your thoughts were swimming with questions and possible scenarios that could play out this evening.

You were taken away from your inner thoughts when Eddie exited the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. You tried not to make it obvious, but the alcohol clouded your awareness of your face.

“Sorry, I left my clothes in the bedroom” he saw you eye fucking him and gave a little smirk.

“It’s okay. Totally okay.” you sighed.

The sight of his wet, bare torso makes your heart race, his flesh covered in goosebumps, his nipples perked, and his hair soaked yet still so sexy. Your stomach simultaneously flip-flopped. And as for your pussy… well, she got a little excited at the heavenly sight in front of you.

“Yeah,” You wanna see more, Tink? Eddie thought to himself.

“Yeah.” You sighed before he disappeared into his bedroom.

Minutes later, Eddie returned, and the two of you acted as if nothing happened. Neither of you willing to break the tension first. So you both sat silently, watching some random TV movie while you prayed to come up with something to discuss. You wanted to talk so badly with him.

“This couch is pretty lumpy; it wouldn’t be fair to make you sleep on it.” You felt terrible that he offered his bed. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Nope. No way.” Eddie shook his head.

“Eddie.” You huffed.

“Tink,” he mocked back.

“You need a good sleep! You work a strenuous job…And my back can take it.”

I bet your back could take it, Eddie thought.

“You calling me old, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart, your stomach did a flip-flop again.

“No.” You snicker at his accusation.

“I don’t think I believe you” Eddie’s tone dropped again.

“Well, I’m not letting up”

“Neither am I; you’re sleeping in my bed whether I’m on it or not.

“Oh...”

“Yeah, oh.” Eddie sat back and the both of you finished the movie in silence.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but Eddie shook your shoulder awake.

“Come on Tinkerbell we are going to bed.” You think you hear Eddie whisper.

Were you dreaming? Did Eddie just tell you the two of you were going to bed?

“Mmm?”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch, remember? Don’t think you’re getting out of this so easily.”

“Okay, Eddie, “ you agreed in your sleepy haze.

You feel his arm wrap under yours as he helps you off the couch.

“There you go.” Eddie coos as he places you down gently.

The moment your head hits the pillow, you’re suddenly wide awake. You’re in Eddie’s bed. Eddie is getting in next to you.

“Figured we would compromise.” He slid next to you but over the covers with a throw blanket.

“Thanks for letting me stay… and giving me a shoulder to cry on.” You cringed with embarrassment at the last part.

“Thanks for letting me stay… and giving me a shoulder to cry on.” You cringed with embarrassment at the last part. “You seem to always be there for me…” you turn to your side to face Eddie.

“I’ll always be there for you, Tink, whether you like it or not…” Eddie also turns so he is facing you.

“Eddie.” Your breath hitched.

“Yes Tink.”

Fuck are you really going to spill your guts to him here and now?

“I… I wanna-need to tell you something.” You close your eyes, not daring to look at him.

“I think I might have an idea.”

“You-what?” Eyes still closed

You feel the bed shift and feel Eddie's warm breath fan your lips.

“Do you trust me?” Eddie whispered.

You aren’t brave enough to speak. So you tentatively nod your head yes.

“Do you trust me, Tink? I need you to say it.” He asked once more.

You slowly opened your eyes and bravely opened your mouth. “Yes, Ed’s, I trust you.”

A slight smile graces Eddie’s before you watch him lean in with a pucker.

Your heart skipped a beat the moment his lips touched yours.

Holy shit.

Eddie Munson was kissing you. Eddie Munson, your older brother's best friend, who you’ve been in love with for seven years, is now kissing you… in his bed… late at night… with no one else around. It was like fireworks were going off. It was everything you ever wanted and more.

It was all you had ever dreamed of, and now he was blowing your expectations out of the water. You had to have more. You needed this to last forever.

Your hands moved up to cup his face. His cheeks were rough with stubble, contrasting his soft plush lips. Eddie shifted closer to you. You could feel his body through the thick blankets that separated the two of you, but you wanted to be closer to him. You threw the blankets and all caution to the wind when you shifted to wrap your legs around him.

Eddie rolled so he was on top of you. To your surprise, you felt his firm cock pressed to your thigh, which made you moan softly.

“Fucking hell, Tink”

“Eddie, please, I need you.”

“Didn’t take you long to beg,” he chuckled darkly.

“Well, it took you long enough to see me.”

Eddie gazed into your eyes like he was looking at you for the first time. Like really seeing you. He muttered your name, your real name, for the first time, and you couldn’t fight the smile that spread across your face before you strained your neck to take his lips once more.

Eddie’s strong hands grazed your waist and settled on your hips, pinning you down to the mattress. His weight is entirely on you now. Your knees hitched up, and you opened your hips more to give him more room.

“Eddie,” you gasped into his mouth. Eddie ground his hips into yours, and you let out another soft moan.

“Tell me what you want.”

“You, it’s always been you.” You confessed.

Eddie didn’t say anything in reply but instead worked his fingers to the waistband of his sweatpants that you dawned.

“This okay?”

“Oh my god, yes,” you rushed. You’ve waited too long for this moment.

“Eager, aren’t we?”

“Don’t be mean,” You shove the pants off your ankles and go for your shirt.

“Wait… let me.” Eddie sat up so you could as well. His hands brushed the hem and slowly pulled the shirt he let you borrow off of you.

He took in your naked frame in front of him.

Shit, you weren’t wearing your panties this whole time? They must have been soaked as well from the rain. Eddie thought.

Eddie saw you shy away as you sat there naked in front of the boy you loved as he took you all in.

It didn’t take long before Eddie’s hands roamed your skin, finding your breasts.

“You’re so soft.” Eddie moaned into your neck as he took in the fact that you now smelled like him. He sent all over you; he was feral. He needed to claim you as his own. How could he be so blind all these years? You were perfect; you were everything he ever wanted.

“Do you like soft?”

“Very much so.”

Eddie melted into you once more as he travelled down your body, kissing and nipping at every inch. You softly moaned when he flicked your nipples with his tongue, and you really moaned when he reached your wet pussy.

How Eddie loved the noises he was pulling from you. He would do anything to make you sing for him.

“You like that baby? You want me to touch you… here?” His index finger grazed your wet slit.

“Yes” you replied quickly, a little too quickly.

“Good, I don’t know what I would have done if you said no.”

You giggled, but it was cut off by the feeling of Eddie’s fingertips grazing your clit.

You’d daydreamed countless times about how his fingers would feel while you watched him while he and your brother jammed in your garage.

He circled your clit before dipping his head down to kiss your lower lips. Reality hit you once again. Eddie was eating you out. Eddie was eating you out like a man starved, in fact. How was he so good at this? Scratch that you didn’t want to know. Your thoughts slowed down as Eddie’s thick fingers entered your wet hole.

“Eddie!” You yelled with pleasure.

“Oh yes, sweetheart, say my name.”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you replayed like a mantra.

As his fingers grazed that spot that only you managed to find when you were alone in your bed, exploring your body. You fell apart in his hands.

“Your pussy grips me so good, god I can’t wait to fuck you.”

“Please, Eddie,” you begged in your blissed-out daze.

“Let me hear it again,” he smirked.

“I need you, please. I want your cock so badly."

“Mmmmmm, as you wish.” he pulled back so he could strip. You watched as his tight muscles flexed as he pulled off his shirt, then scrunched as he bent over to take off his bottoms.

His cock sprung out of their confines, and your breath hitched for what you thought was at least the fourth time that night.

You’ve imagined what it would look like, but none of the times ever did you imagine he was this hung. No wonder he was so confident and cocky around women. It was long, thick, and straight. No curvatures, just pure rod.

“I don’t think that’s going to fit,” you blurt out, not thinking.

“Don’t worry, Baby. It’ll fit.” he slunk back down on you, peppering your lips with more sensual kisses. His fingers travelled down to your pussy, stretching you out again, only this time, he used 3 fingers to make sure you were nice and ready.

“Please, I’m ready” You ground your pussy into Eddie’s hand.

Eddie reached over into his drawer, pulled out a condom, and slipped it over his shaft as quickly as possible. Seemed that he was just as eager as you.

Eddie kissed you hard as his cock slipped past your wet folds and inside, splitting you open. The wonderful burn of his cock burying itself inside of you. What could you say? It had been a while, and Eddie was the biggest you’ve ever had.

“Slowly,” you guided Eddie as he rocked his hips, giving you time to adjust.

“God, you’re so tight”

“Mmmphmm”

“Your noises are so pretty.” Eddie tucked a piece of fallen hair behind your ear.

Eddie took your breath away as he looked into your eyes. He was being so soft and gentle with you as if you could break.

“Eddie, please.”

“I got you, Princess”

Eddie rocked his hips with more emphasis; his body was moulding into yours. As his cock grazed your tight walls, you felt your body was brought to life.

“Oh fuck” your words slipped, not even realizing you were speaking.

“Come’on baby, let me hear you”

“You’re making me feel so good, Eddie!”

“More, tell me who you belong to.”

“ You! always been you, Eddie, please, I wanna come. Please make me cum on your cock.”

“Good girl. You’re being so good, f’me” Eddie's hips slapped into the backs of your thighs, and he plummeted into you, making you cry out in pleasure.

Eddie grabbed the backs of your knees and pushed them back to your shoulders, only making the angle more delicious as he fucked you. He watched as his cock disappeared into your wanton pussy. He watched as you clenched down on his cock, and he almost lost it as he tried not to cum right then and there.

“Fuck me, Tink! Your pussy is too good,” he gritted through his teeth, trying to keep the pace without blowing his load.

“Eddie!” Your body was on fire as his cock continuously hit your g spot. Your lower belly tingled as the feeling of your orgasm built up again.

“You close, baby?”

“Yes”

“Cum for me.”

“More, I need more.”

Eddie slipped his hand between you and gently circled your clit once again.

You moan, cockdrunk as your body begins to spasm around Eddie’s cock.

“Yes, that’s it, come on baby. Keep cuming. That’s my girl.”

Your eyes roll back into your head, and you clamp your jaw. Every muscle tightens and clenches as your second orgasm rips through you.

“Good girl. Good fuckin girl.” Eddie praises as he empties himself into the condom.

After a few moments of the two of you catching your breath and Eddie discarding the used condom, you break the silence.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you chuckled in disbelief.

“Adam is going to kill me,” Eddie laughed.

“Good, I’ve been meaning to get him back. You roll over to snuggle in his arms.

“And to think you were supposed to be in another man’s bed tonight.” Eddie hated that idea.

“At least I ended up in the right man’s bed.”

Part 2

Tagging those who seemed interested: @lofaewrites @lavendermunson @imyourdaninow @itsfreakingbats @allthingsjoeq

[satoruhour]

toji’s reaction to seeing you in short shorts/booty shorts around the house 🏃‍♀️

PAYBACK

a/n: sorry anon i didnt exactly like how this turned out but i still hope u enjoy !!!

wc: 2.1k

warnings: sorta crack-ish in the beginning, pleasure dom toji, soft dom toji, praise, toji is obsessed w/ you, kitchen sex, clothed sex, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, pussy slaps! (both w/ his hand and d!ck), fingering, clit stimulation, tit + ass fondling, unprotected sex, p → v penetration, creampie / breeding kink, brief aftercare, n*sfw under the cut

there were things that toji was good at holding back on, like telling you that you might’ve added a bit more garlic than butter for a garlic spread. he doesn’t tell you how your body heat warms him up fast and he desperately wants to pull away from you, but your slumbering state is so peaceful he would rather burn. 

and then sometimes he wishes he would just bite the bullet (even if you were his baby), because you were currently getting back at him for giving you the silent treatment. if he could do it over a trivial thing, so could you. toji’s probably still mad about your guess in charades, where you couldn’t understand that he was telling you he was riding a tricycle and not a bicycle, that mere difference of wheels causing a major roadblock in your relationship.

it was by far the stupidest thing you’ve argued about (you assume he had a bad day, too), and you were willing to talk things out and tell him he could’ve just put up three fingers instead of pointing aggressively to an invisible tricycle, but he opts to glare at you and sigh instead. you can’t believe he’s getting this worked up over a game of charades too, so you tease him the only other way you know how to.

it hadn’t been that long since you talked, but you figured you’ll need to start on dinner soon, getting a sick idea in your head when you see the new booty shorts you had ordered laying on your bed. you definitely thought it would be better for another day, but life is short and toji is not, so you pull them on and they feel divine, remembering the content smile on your face when your boyfriend had offered to pay for them — a reward well received when you check out your ass in the full-length mirror and the way it shaped your lower half.

the evening carries on as usual, but you can feel his stare once you emerge from your room in one of his shirts and he thinks you aren’t wearing any pants until you’re pulling out saucepans and reaching for the spices in the top cupboard that his shirt rides up and he can see your plump fucking ass; he chokes on his water.

with your back turned, you stifle a little grin and continue with your chores as the shorts ride up with each walk from living room to kitchen, but it’s all under the guise of cleaning and setting the table, wiping aimlessly, too, at the coffee table in front of the TV where toji sat, even if you weren’t eating there. you feel eyes on you when you return to the kitchen and continue your torture, cooking up a storm and bending over while looking into the fridge, while pulling out the plates for dinner, while—

“those the shorts i bought you?” bingo. although you’re not quite ready to talk to him yet, you succumb with a curt nod. toji obviously isn’t satisfied with your answer, footsteps approaching to lean on the kitchen island as his eyes keep his gaze locked at your butt.

“gonna ignore me for the whole day, hm?” it seemed like toji had other plans, his larger hand trailing up your thighs to your ass before curling around your waist. he’s pressing his front against you, hips grinding slightly even though you know he wants to do anything but that. you’re not wearing underwear, either, so the sensation of his bulge against your cunt is a lovely feeling and it takes everything in you not to moan.

you have to bring yourself back to reality to turn off the stove that feels so far away, hands clutching onto the countertops as you chase the familiar drag of your sex against his but toji only tuts, landing a slap onto your ass. “dinner first, baby.”

bastard. you roll your eyes and groan, but you didn’t seem to catch his innuendo, so you’re yelping when he suddenly flips you around and tugs at your shorts, pulling it off of a leg so there’s space for him. while your hands are pushing at his shoulders, desperately wanting to uphold your pride of ignoring him, you know the cool air against your cunt and the sight of fushiguro toji on his knees is only making you wetter.

and toji just smirks, looking up at you like his revered deity and you jump again at his cold hands prying your thighs apart, bringing a leg to rest on his shoulder. toji looks in love with your pussy, seeing your hole clench around nothing as your eyes beg for him to do something, anything, but he only continues to tease, running his thumbs along your folds and just missing your clit.

“use your words, sweetheart.”

“need…” toji raises an eyebrow, cheek leaning casually against your thigh and he grins as he sees you fight your own pride like you don’t want his tongue and fingers on you. give it a little more and you’ll break, because through the silence of your shared home and your heavy breathing, the tension is so infuriating that you’re willing to push away that stupid game of charades to the back of your brain.

you hate how needy you sound, though. “i need your tongue… p-please, baby,” you plead and drag out the name, and in the stuffiness of the kitchen, you think toji, one of the strongest men you know, looks the fucking best when he’s smiling up at you with a wanton want behind his eyes. “wan’ you, toji, wan’ you to eat me out!”

“oh… of course, when you beg like that,” toji plants a kiss to your puffy clit and the simple gesture makes you whine, “how could i say no to my pretty baby?”

toji delves in like he’s never eaten before, licking a thick stripe up your pussy to collect your slick before lapping at your clit, garnering a loud moan that reverberates throughout the house. you wish you never called him out on his terrible acting skills from the start, one hand keeping your balance while the other tugs on his black hair. harder and harder.

toji groans at your impatience as he feels you spread your legs further, moans and whimpers filling his ears. one hand sneaks under his shirt and squeezes at your tits, the other hugging you closer to him, fondling your ass at the same time. your boyfriend takes in everything, from your pleasured expression to your contracting tummy and he can feel himself harden below him.

but you come first, you always come first and he makes it clear when he halts for a second and you whine at the lack of contact. “eyes here, baby.” toji calls out to you, slapping your cunt and you jolt at the feeling, although it’s not entirely unpleasant; your eyes flit down to him. the other grins again and slaps your pussy a few more times, the wetness of your sex making loud, obscene noises, “tell me how good i’m making you feel, yeah?”

you mewl as you nod as his fingers prod at your hole and you swear the sudden intrusion has your stomach turning. you’re clamping down on his fingers which sets a pace, buried right up to the ends of his fingers as his palm collects your slick. your lover continues to abuse your clit, alternating between flicking his tongue and sucking.

“o-ooh, shit! they’re so deep, tojiii!” the moans you let out were almost pornographic, breathless and needy with how good he was giving it to you, the familiar feeling of an orgasm creeping up on you. his fingers keep a constant pace, stretching you out so well and the roughness of them feel so contrasting on your body, but you love it. “toji, i— fuck, i’m c-close!”

“taste so good, doll. c’mon, cum on my tongue.” the older man is ruined too, the heat of the kitchen getting to him with how the strands of his hair stick to his forehead, but more than that, he’s grinding into thin air, wanting any sort of relief for his hardening cock. “you taste like heaven, oh shit...”

“t-toji— i’m! oh, fuck, fuck fuck—!” it’s not long before you’re unravelling in his hold, legs trembling and incoherent babbles spilling from your lips as toji licks up your release leaving from your dripping, tight hole, sure to lap up every last drop. his emerald eyes hold yours as he cleans you up, body still twitching and shivering from the mind-blowing orgasm before he stands and removes his fingers, holding it to your lips.

“suck.” and you do, keeping eye contact as you wrap your tongue around him like you would to his cock, free hand already making pulling down his sweatpants that has a little pre-cum leaking through it.

“up you go, darling,” toji mumbles, plopping you onto the counter with ease, and because he’s so tall, his pelvis perfectly lines up with yours. it’s probably also because you envisioned this happening, though, that you made sure to pick out a kitchen countertop with the proper height. he slaps the tip of his cock on your glistening pussy, an angry red from being neglected, groaning as your arousal provides lube with no problem.

“just so you know, i’m buying you more of those stupid shorts,” toji confesses before he pushes past your entrance, tip already stretching you so well that you laugh and moan at the same time, arms flying to encircle his neck to feel him closer. “f-fuck, baby… so tight, just for me…”

“’s all yours, toji,” you whimper softly, an unspoken look in your eyes that just says that i’m yours for you to use, “this pussy’s all y-yours— mmf—”

by then, he’s bottomed out, taking his time in filling you up inch by inch and your submission is reason enough for him to start rocking into you, hips faltering just a little by how warm and snug you felt that it has toji catching his breath. but he doesn’t hold back once you’re comfortable, bullying his cock into you at a faster pace into your pussy that sucks him in so well with each thrust.

“your tight, little pussy’s g’na make me cum faster than usual, pretty,” toji says with a breathless laugh, mouth tasting the sweat that lines your body as he kisses your neck. 

“that’s— okay,” you choke out, pulling him away from the embrace and the sight that greets you takes your breath away. dark, lustful eyes trained on you and a stunning smile to match; you see your lover’s eyes soften ever so slightly when he hits that sweet spot in you, “i’ll take all— fuck- all of your cum, okay?”

and toji almost cums at that moment but he knows if he looks at you any longer and how your tongue lols out at how his cock fits so well in you, he just might; so he just settles for frantic nods, and nudges your head down to look at how his length moves in and out of you. your slick and his pre-cum is leaking all over the counter, squelching noises filling the kitchen. “look at how well you take me. good fuckin’ girl is what you are.”

you giggle at the praise because you know toji means every word, but your moans take over soon. there’s the twist of your core, that edging feeling that toji’s drawing out of you so well — it doesn’t help how he brings a hand to your clit, rubbing circles that you’re close, so close.

“toji, toji, toji—” chanting out his name is all you can do when you’re fucked silly, spilling over unexpectedly as you clamp down hard on his cock. toji groans when he feels you spasm over his length, hips not stopping even after you ride out your orgasm. you’re cumming so much that his stomach is wet, too, the pap! pap! pap! of his pelvis against your pussy sounding so filthy.

your babbles converge into three words, mumbling out i love yous to the older man and soon toji cums as well, swallowing your tearful confessions with a sloppy kiss and he’s releasing deep inside you. he can feel your mewls through the kiss, no doubt loving how his thick cum is spilling into you. his seed is hot, leaking from his tip in ropes and ropes until you’re filled to the brim and you sigh, content with how it feels in you.

your lazed hums make him chuckle, kissing you again and softer this time. “my baby, my sweet baby,” toji makes sure to wipe your eyes after, and mutters apologies against your forehead for the dinner turning cold, but when he sees you and your languid smile, he knows you don’t mind.

thirsts and drabble requests are open!

[crazilust]

What main character energy should you embody for this next chapter

From left to right : Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3.

Pile 1

confirmation/what’s coming instinctively : Brown eyes, brown, guitar, vynils, green shoes, docs, bangs, rings (lots of them, Virgo/Earth energy, hardwood floors, The Emperor, Goddess energy, Water sign, Water dom, Loves water, loves nature, loves animals, Names that start with a J, F, P, S

the message :

You should embody the main character that moves out of her town to start her character ark. Now, this doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll physicall leave your town (although, you might!) but you definitely need to leave some things behind. I’m sensing friends, maybe even family members. Your environement is getting too small for you, which is maybe why I’m getting small town vibes. You are someone that needs a lot of recognition, even from yourself and you’re not getting any where you are right now. Are you proud of yourself? I doubt it. But you need to make the proper steps to find your place in this universe and there is a place for you but you need to look for it! I see you in a new apartment, maybe a bit lonely at first, but it’s because it’ll be the first time you really get to know yourself and discovering your true self. You have been repressing your true taste, your true interests, your true self with those people you’ve been surrounding yourself with. It’s not healthy and it’s getting dangerous at this point cause you’re starting to lose yourself. Leave. That would be my advice for you.

Pile 2

confirmation/ what i’m getting instinctively: Fighter, Orange is the new black, Piper Chapman, Blue, Glacier, Grey, long hair, fake smile, dimples, the emperor Reversed, bad relationships with caregivers, siblings, many friends, Aquarius, Pisces, car, driving, roadtrip, name that starts with M, N, X, V.

the message :

Woah! Okay! Love this energy, but hard to catch honestly. You don’t like being seen, huh? It’s okay, me neither! The journey you should embark on is the one where you’re gonna get thrown into an environment that is completely unfamiliar to you. A bit like pile 1 in the sense that it’s not something you’re used to, but contrary to that pile, you don’t decide to go into this environment, you’ll get thrown into it. I can sense you have some sort of anger issues and this will be the perfect environment to finally let it out. I can feel that although you have a very polished appearance, you actually feel like a wild animal inside. In this new environment, you’ll finally face yourself as you really are. You won’t be able to fake it, or to act like you’ve always done it. It won’t be possible anymore. You’ll have to be your real self, even tho it might disappoint people around you. Oh, you probably don’t want that. Too bad, because you will disappoint people, but you’ll make some real connections out there. When you’ll get out of that environment (because yes, it is temporary I feel), you’ll look back and won’t even recognize yourself. I think you’re quite excited for that. Deep down.

Pile 3

confirmation/what i’m getting instinctively: Twilight, Bella Swan, break up, torture, painful love, toxic love, mean, smiles with bad intentions, agenda, skinny, long hands, pale (or pale for your ethnicity), doesn’t like their hair, Aries/Taurus/Sag/Pisces, Fire dom, Neptune dom, Jupiter Dom, lucky but fails to see it

the message : Oh I’m getting major Bella Swan vibes lmao. Not necessarily her temperament, but mostly what she’s going thru. You’ve been thru a bad breakup and that person has left you empty inside. You find yourself staring at the window, and wondering why it ended the way it did. Stop obsessing over the past. You’re at a point of your journey where you need to change gear. You cannot keep going like that or you’ll litteraly become a shell of yourself. Get up of your bed, take a deep breath, take a walk. Anything. But reminiscing on someone that is gone, won’t do any good. Btw, they’re gone now but they’ll come back. I know you’re excited, but they’ll come back when you won’t care and then you’ll be like : “huh, i don’t even see what I saw in you anymore”. It’ll be a very satisfying feeling for you. In the meantime, cause you’re not there yet, focus on healing. See some friends, get into a hobby. Anything that could take your mind off of him. Why do you fixate over him? Was he something he did? Or didn’t do? Focus on moving on. That’s your journey for now. That’s the part of movie where we all root and get excited for the protagonist to get on her two feet. That’s your part. You got this.

• 🧡🍯👑🐰🪀 •

and that’s all from me folks, thank you so much 🧡

[oceansblvds]

petals ; coriolanus snow

pairing ; coriolanus snow x reader

words ; 1.7k

about ; "The harshness and brazen demeanor that enveloped him when you were around seemed to melt away with time, this certain activity that the two of you engaged in became more of a delightful reprieve than something to do to release tension."

warning(s) ; smut, fingering, p in v sex, not edited, just a short blurb kinda?

authors note ; hello! this is me putting myself out there as a snow writer bc im obsessed with tom blyth. so anyways. please feel free to request fics or headcanons or blurbs! i hope u enjoy :)

Life in the Capital was nothing but lavish for you. 

With your family’s status, extravagant balls were somewhat a staple in your life, along with all the beautiful shoes that you wore as you walked your way into the academy, or the five star meals you were allowed to eat every night. You didn’t know how to be poor, it simply wasn’t in your blood to have anything less than what your life offered you. And that was incredibly obvious for the way that you held yourself in the presence of others. Having been groomed by your mother and father to be the perfect heir to their fortune, they didn’t expect anything less than you. You were beautiful, you were intelligent, and you knew how to control a situation and a conversation as if it was the back of your hand. 

And that simply aggravated him. 

He wasn’t sure when it had really started, this loathing for you. Perhaps it was when you purposely had him suspected of cheating on a test when you two were in your first year of the Academy, or perhaps it was the fact that you knew that he hadn’t cheated, you were simply intimidated by his intelligence. Wherever you stood academically, Coriolanus was always on your heels, just behind you clawing at your back to get ahead of you in anything. And sometimes he did manage to do better than you, and that was when he felt the most happy around you. When you were an absolute mess, a stupid look on your face as you tried to come up with an excuse as to why you didn’t do as well as him. Oh, that was where he was happiest. But he hated you, he loathed you. At least that’s what he told himself in the midst of his obsessive fixations about you, how he would sit alone in his bed at night in his run down home and think about the fact that you were probably eating your second meal of the night and you were going to sleep in silk sheets that got changed every single week. 

And that simply aggravated you. 

How he always assumed that the only reason why you were as intelligent as you were was because of your family. You didn’t know that he was actually secretly poor, but regardless of it, the Snow's wealth had never reached the high peak that yours did in the past. That much was obvious, you could see it in the way that he dressed himself that he was lesser in status. And you took every opportunity to remind him of it, every single breath that was spent around him was an insult, a jab, trying your best to get into his head. And he did much of the same. You two hated each other, it had always been that way and it would always stay that way. 

That was, until the two of you had been paired up for a project together. Something about how to better raise attention for the Hunger Games, how to make them more enjoyable. You two had been at your house when you prepared for it together, the slight arrogance in your heart not even noticing the way that he had completely dodged all your questions about working at his place. It had gotten late, and despite the normal amount of bickering between the two of you, the bickering turned into a crude form of flirting. He said that your mouth could be used for such better things rather than to insult him the way that you did, and you were desperate to prove to him wrong. You wouldn’t fall for the flirtations of Coriolanus Snow, you were so sure of it. But soon enough, his lips were on yours and your clothes were on the expensive carpet of your room and you two had your limbs tangled in the silk sheets. A month passed, and like clockwork, the two of you would end up with each other with your clothes off. It didn’t matter the reason or the place, it always happened. 

He pushed you into the cold, almost sterile lab table, muttering something under his breath about how he only had a few minutes before he needed to go to lunch. You laughed, the sound getting cut off by his lips placing themselves on your own, like they always did. His kisses were bruising, like he was trying to prove something, and maybe he was. The harshness and brazen demeanor that enveloped him when you were around seemed to melt away with time, this certain activity that the two of you engaged in became more of a delightful reprieve than something to do to release tension. You paid no mind to it. 

“Then you better make those few minutes worth it,” You whispered, taking note of the footsteps that you could hear from outside the door. This wasn’t the first time that you had snuck around in the University, but every time it did fill you with a sense of urgency to get things started lest the two of you be caught. 

Coriolanus let out a chuckle. “I always do.” His lips pressed to the skin of your throat, teeth grazing against your pulse point before sucking on it loosely, enough to make a mark for only a moment. 

Cheeky. You thought to yourself, your hands finding refuge in his blonde hair, certain tufts of it retaining the curliness that you had known them to have during your time at the Academy. You pulled him closer, ever so closer, like you didn’t want to let him go. His hands helped to lift you up onto the lab table, your legs opening and his body slotting in between them, a perfect practiced dance. The University uniform was much more relaxed than the Academy’s was, a low cut black skirt making for easy access during these moments in between classes and lunch. His hips grinded against yours for only a moment, a gasp escaping your lips that was captured by another searing hot kiss, enough to know that he was telling you to be quiet. He continued to kiss you as his hand came down under your skirt, fingertips ghosting against your inner thighs before reaching where you wanted him most. 

He was met with a wet, sticky mess, an after effect of the fact that the two of you hadn’t fucked in over a week. Despite all of his brain power wanting to tease you for it, he found himself keeping this as a silent victory, the pad of his thumb coming in contact with your clit, slipping one finger in and curling it. You arched your back forward only slightly, already conveying the message that you wanted him inside you already. “Patience,” He whispered. 

You whined. He was the one who wanted to go to lunch anyways, and now he was stringing you along? You had half a mind to fight back, but the words died in your throat as he added a second finger, slipping in almost effortlessly. He continued to pump them in and out at a languid pace, his left hand holding your waist so that you couldn’t move. He was keeping the rhythm, not you. All the while his thumb kept rubbing against your clit, making you a squirming mess in his hands like putty. 

“Coriolanus,” You breathed. “Come on, please.” 

He hummed in response, acting as if he didn’t hear you. But he did, because soon enough he was withdrawing his fingers, hands working to free himself from his neatly pressed pants, his cock springing free in a matter of seconds. You wrapped your hands around his neck, his face coming into the crook of your own as he guided himself towards your entrance, the tip of his cock grazing as if to tease, before sheathing itself in. Once he bottomed out, he already started a fast rhythm, giving you little to no time to adjust. but you were so needy you didn’t care, not one bit because he was making you feel so good that you wished for this moment to last forever. and you were already so wet and willing, Coriolanus couldn’t wait a second longer. 

If he was tired from staying up all night to finish homework and studies, he didn’t even show it. Coriolanus fucked into you with such a frenzy that it was almost animalistic, which made you wonder how much energy this man possibly had. What you didn’t know was it was your moans what were spurring him on, your moans that kept him going. And you loved it so much that you couldn’t think straight. all you could do was try and keep yourself still, words stringing together into barely put together sentences of oh fuck yes and that feels so good. It was a moment of such pure bliss that you didn’t even feel yourself start to clench around him, noticing it finally when you felt every inch of him scrape against your willing walls, bringing you closer to that cliff into a sea of pleasure that only he could give you. What finally made you break was the groans that he was making, which were hot and heavy and like heaven to your ears that you knew you would be playing on repeat before you went to sleep tonight. 

His hand slipped between your legs, pressing up against your swollen clit and that was it. You were sent into a state of pure, fucked out bliss as you came around him, your moans being muffled by the shirt he was wearing, your mouth pressed against it to try and stifle all your noises in the moment. With a few more demanding thrusts, Coriolanus was spilling himself inside of you, a groan of contentment falling from his lips as his head dropped to your shoulder. Your legs were still wrapped around him, shaking from the change of pace, relishing in the moment that the two of you were sharing together. You barely had any time to refocus yourself before he was pulling out, a few remnants of his cum dripping out of you that you saved by pushing your underwear back into place. 

“Lunch better still be in the cafeteria,” He spoke, zipping up his pants and latching his belt. “If it’s not, you’re buying dinner tonight.” 

You cocked your head to the side. “Dinner?” Usually you two would never go out together. But before he answered, Coriolanus had already left the room. 

[inkyquince]

Thinking about being fwb with the older gen when they were younger.

cw. uhhhh. not much. implied rough sex, a mind break on eden's side, neglect of emotional stuff but some is implied, stalker-y obsessive harper, remy get the idea to start the underground farm from you and general friends with benefits stuff.

characters. bailey. eden. harper. briar. remy.

For Bailey, its a need to release stress, and you just happen to be the one person in the friendship group he could stand enough to not just spend extra time with, but spend it bending you over the back of his bed frame and railing you, all the while you can hear giggling from behind the door. He doesn't give a shit, he knows that the walls are thin in the orphanage, but this isn't for you. If you happen to cum, then, hey, it makes you tighten up around his cock and makes his own orgasm just a bit better. Don't think so much about how he offers you a smoke afterwards, when he refuses to even share his sacred, battered packet of ciggies with Eden. Don't start thinking he's soft. But maybe you should feel grateful that when you message for him to come over, he actually replies to you. Most of the others get ignored.

For Eden, it started out as pity. Probably the last of the group to loose his virginity, with Bailey snarking that he knows for a fact that Eden spends most of his time at night jerking his cock. He's just too intimidating for anyone at school to give him a chance, and the boys in the locker room have noticed how fucking fat his cock is anyway. There was a betting pool to see how long until he snapped. So what if it was pity. So what if his gaze thrilled you as you slowly took off your shirt in front of him, slowly unbuttoning as his grip on his knees tightened, his knuckles whitening. So what if by the time you tucked your thumbs into your underwear, his erection was straining against his jeans. It started as pity, for your friend to finally loose his v-card, and went on to Eden ripping at your clothes every time you two were alone, wrestling your body down onto his fat cock, bullying your hole, your friendship grated down into veiled attention around the others, and desperate rutting each second you two were alone.

It was obvious that Harper had wanted this for so long. Everyone could tell that the freak had such a crush on you. Always so attentive, popping up at your elbow, wanting to carry your books, saying you smelt nice that day, that he'll help tutor you, asking you if you want to go with him for ice cream after class. But you had to give credit where it's due, he was smart. Just one bad break up, and his selfless offerings of helping you feel better. That's all it took for him to take his rightful place between your thighs, getting to enjoy your needy riding, your kisses, the way you'd clench around his fingers when the dipped into your underwear during class. He encourages you to use him, use him, use him all you want, for stress relief, for any kinks you want to try. He likes it all, as long as he gets to touch you.

Briar just likes sex. He fucking loves it. In the future, he might tire of it, and just enjoy the delicacies of life paid for by bought sex, but not yet. You know you're just one of a rotation, but it feels different... At least to you. Sharing a group of friends, one night getting too drunk, and suddenly his tongue is dragging against your hole, being told you to squeal all you like, maybe someone from the party will hear you and come to see what's happening. Then Briar messaging you to come to him from then on. He likes watching you hump his cock, introducing you to the amass of sex toys he has, sharing a double ended dildo while he tortures your nipples with bites and harsh sucks. He makes no secret of his other conquests, people he also enjoys having sex with, but there's something about being the only one that can lean against him at a group hang out, his thumb rubbing small circles into your thigh, as the others argue on how to split the bill.

It starts with Remy just wanting it out of the way. Everything in his life is planned out meticulously, and once he hits 19, he quietly registers that most people his age are loosing their virginity, consenting or not. He will inherit the estate in his late twenties, he'll graduate from university early, and he'll make his mark on the town like his family has done for generations, with the riding school, with the investments. He'll find something that's uniquely him. But in the meantime, he'll hit the average amount of milestones that his peers do. You just happened to be the least objectionable to loose his virginity to. Between you and Wren, you're the one that'll be nice and submissive and let him enjoy himself however he likes, without some boneheaded suggestion of doing something stupid. So, he gets to take you to the estate, to fuck you on a bed more expensive than anything you could ever afford again. It's good. He likes it. But one day, in the fields with the others, overlooking some rinky dink farm with a family of red heads trying to make it nice, you do something. He's eating an apple, leaning against a tree, with you sitting by his feet with Wren's head in your lap, letting you braid his already too long hair. There's a crunch. He looks down and you cheekily took a bite out of the apple, smiling up at him. It itches his brain just right. He extends it to your mouth and watches as you laugh and take another bite. You become more of a pet from then on. Eating out of his hand, getting fucked in the ass, with a stirring fixation rousing in his stomach when he thinks back on how sweet you looked, eating his apple. Almost like one of the cows on the farm down below.

[alastwhorez]

Alastor with a mommy kink

♡ Pairing: Human!Alastor x MILF!Reader

♡ Summary: Alastor can't help but want his new neighbor

♡ warnings: 18+, MDNI, breeding kink, mommy kink, pet names, oral, p in v, unprotected sex, Alastor is 23, reading is in late 20s early 30s, Alastor calls reader Ma. Age gap, I think that's it. If I missed anything, please let me know.

♡an: not proofread, probably spelling errors, if you don't like mommy kinks or Al calling reader Ma, or Age gap please do not read.

Thinking about early 20s human Alastor with a mommy kink..

You just moved next door with your kids right beside Alastor and his mama.

Alastor helped you move in observing that there was no man with you, he offered to help which you graciously accepted. His mama invited you and the kids over for dinner that evening saying “it's so nice to have children around again now that Al is all grown up” as she pinches the taller male's cheek. Alastor rolled his eyes at his mom's actions trying to cover up the blush rising to his cheeks. He may be “all grown up” as she says but he is still a mama's boy and always will be.

After dinner you help clear the table and do dishes with Alastor as his mama plays with the children in the living room. You fall into a comfortable silence before Al breaks it “so where's your husband?” You look at him and smile before telling him you don't have one. Al hides his smirk from you. in all honesty he didn't offer to help you trying to be neighborly or a gentleman. He offered because of the heat he felt seeing you mother your kids.

Over the next few weeks Al is always there. He is there when you need help putting something together, someone to go to the grocery store with and even when you need someone to kill the pesky little bugs when you are too scared. His mama started babysitting for you as you wanted to find a job. Living Off of you savings wasn't going to last forever. And Al was there for all of it.

Over the weeks Al noticed the heat he would feel intensifies everytime he sees you mothering your kids but what really got him was when he was over for lunch and you wiped his mouth with your thumb to clean a crumb off his lip. He couldn't deny the tightening in his pants at you doing such motherly things for him. It didn't help that you also wore some frisky outfits for your time and that you weren't that much older than him, in your late twenties to early thirties at most.

The twenty three year old quickly became very obsessive and possessive over you. Scaring away suitors. Always telling you, you don't need a boyfriend, you have him and he is right across the lawn. All you have to do is open a window or stand on your porch and yell and he will be there.

Over the weeks of Alastor being around you couldn't deny your attraction to him. He was a very attractive man, one several women in town are always throwing themselves at but you never see him with a woman. He tells you he has his eyes on someone he just doesn't know how they feel yet. That brings a ting of pain to your heart but you smile at the younger male and tell him anyone would be lucky to have him pinning over them.

looking back you wonder how you got in the situation you are in now. Bent over your kitchen table, dress flipped up over your plush ass, and panties down around your ankles as Alastor is on his knees licking and sucking on any flesh his mouth can find. He parts your folds with his tongue as he licks up you. His hands on your ass spreading you open for him. You try to hold back moans forgetting you don't have to be quiet. His mama has the kids. He was only supposed to be over here for a quick visit. He was dropping off leftovers his mama made. But they were quickly forgotten. Left on the counter.

“Fuck ma, you taste so good” He moans against your cunt. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan at the vibration of his voice. Oh god his voice is another thing about him that attracted you to the younger man. His deep raspy voice with his cute little accent. It could make you wet just hearing him talk, and it has.

you yelp as Alastor lands a slap on your ass then squeeze and massage the red spot. His tongue dips in your entrance As his thumb finds your bundle of nerves and starts to rub. Your legs are shaking, thank fuck your on the table. You Turn around trying to see him. Wanting to see him between your legs. He chuckles and smirks against you, feeling you wiggle. Trying to maneuver your body just try so his mouth stays attached to you.

You scream out his name as he speeds up his thumb and quickens his thrust with his tongue. He's moaning against you as he bites, licks, and sucks everywhere he can reach. You're a moaning mess on your table. You can feel that familiar tingle before it snaps and your jerking,moaning, and screaming “Oh Al, baby” eyes rolling back and back arching. He moans as your juices coat his tongue, swallowing it down like it's his last meal.

You're laying on the table trying to catch your breath when he pulls away and stands to his full height. You hear him undo his belt and unzip his pants. You bite your lip in anticipation. “g-gotta feel you around me ma”

Ma, he started calling you that a week after you met.

You feel him slide himself between your folds, wetting himself in your juices before he slowly slides on, stretching you perfectly. You both moan out at the feeling. He starts slow and shallow before getting confidence and speeding up. He's gripping your hips so hard you know they'll bruise but fuck does it feel good to finally have his hands on you. He fucks you from behind until your about to finish when he pulls out. “No nononono!” You whine right before he flips you onto your back and pulls the dress off the rest of the way.

“You little minx” He says when he sees you weren't wearing a bra. You bite your lip looking up at him. His hands find your thighs and push them apart as he stands between your legs pushing himself back into you.

You grip his shoulders then let your hands slide down to his back when he speeds up, giving you an extra hard thrust. “Feels so good,ma” He whines into your shoulder. “Wanted you for so long”

“M-me too Ala-STOR” you moan when he hits that spot that makes your toes curl. He pulls away from your shoulder and slams his lips onto your, the kiss is hungry, feral. It's all teeth and tongue. You can taste yourself on his lips pulling a moan from you.

He pushed your back onto the table as he lays over you and his thumbs finds your clip. Only a couple of thrust later and your cumming all over his cock, begging him your not exactly sure what your begging for pleas fall from your lips

“Fuck, fuck ,FUCK” He says as he puts his face in your shoulder biting and licking your neck.

“Gotta-gotta cum in you ma, make you a mommy again”

“Yes! Yes Al” you beg as you feel another orgasm approaching.

Alastor grabs your tits, “gotta see these Full and round” He says before sucking on into his mouth. Three more thrust is all it takes before he is shooting Ropes of cum into your heat, hips stuttering, his eyes rolling back, and moans falling from his lips. You cum for the nth time seeing Alastor so blissed out,tightening around his cock, milking him for everything he is worth.

You both lay there for several minutes catching your breath. He pulls out a few seconds later but replaces his cock with his fingers pulling a moan from you. “Gotta make sure nothing goes to waste” He says right before fixing his glasses that are now all fogged up. He smiles down at you, helping you up before picking you up bridal style and carrying you to your bathroom.

He runs you a bath, both of you sitting in It, your back against his chest. He is peppering kisses all over your shoulder. He stays with you till nightfall when his mama yells for him to come home and that your kids are on their way back over.

He kisses your lips one more time after your kids run through the door.

“Same time tomorrow, ma?” He says, smirking down at you and then winking before heading back to his mama.

[tallulah477]

Playing Dirty

Survive the Night Day 3: Drugged

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Dark!Reader, Toxic!Reader, Jealous!Reader, ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Alien Genitalia, Drugging, P in V, Slight Thigh Riding, Oral (male receiving), Creampie, Knotting, Size Difference, Sex while one person is under the influence of drugs, Kuru/Queue Play, Belly Bulge, Obsessive/Possessive Behavior, Manipulation/Gaslighting, Toxic Relationship, Brief Body Shaming (Reader body shames another female out of jealously - not to her face, but in her thoughts), Name Calling (significant use of the word "bitch"), Forced Cheating (not on Reader - Neteyam is kinda dating someone else although you can argue they aren’t together yet), Reader is a straight up bitch and completely unhinged ngl, She is horrible

Word Count: 10.3K

A/N: For more about how I picture alien genitalia, see here.

Summary: Neteyam is supposed to be yours. Your mate. So who the hell does he think he is running around with someone else? You need to do something. In this game, you'll be the victor - not her. Even if that means you have to play a little dirty.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ**

Translations:

Kuru - Neural Queue

Kaltxì - Hello

Tanhì - Star, bioluminescent freckle

Swoasey - Kava bowl (constructed from seed pods, used for drinking intoxicating beverages), handsized

Teylu - Beetle Larva, food and source of protein for the Na'vi

Tsahìk - Spiritual Leader

He’s starting to piss you off.

Nope. Wrong. Too late. You’re already pissed. Beyond pissed. 

Who the hell does he think he is? Running around with another woman like that right in front of you. What does he even see in her anyway?

Iäle. What a stupid name.

She’s not even pretty. And her tits are way too small - nonexistent actually. Neteyam wants someone with a little more to give. Like yours, for example. Although, it’s not very hard to have more than her. You may be smaller, the comparison of a human to a Na’vi structure is very stark, but you’ve got a lot to compensate for that. Plenty of bounce and soft curves for him to play with and enjoy. You’ve seen him appreciating the view before, when your v-neck t-shirts or tank tops ‘accidentally’ ride a little too low to be considered modest and his pretty golden eyes follow the movement, tracing the curve of your breasts and lingering on the hardened peaks of your nipples where they poke through your top on the days you forget to wear a bra.

You’ve been forgetting a lot more recently. Wow. Crazy. 

And since you’re smaller, your pussy is clearly going to be tighter too. You think about it all the time, taking Neteyam’s thick cock between your slick walls, feeling him spear you open and filling you up so much you hope you feel him in your throat. He needs someone who’s going to treat him right, squeezing around his length and working him up like it’s your sole purpose in life to be his personal living fleshlight. Iäle can’t give him that. She has ‘selfish lover’ written all over her. She’d probably just chase her own release, make him get off just to say she did and then that’s it. You, on the other hand… you would milk him dry - pulling orgasm after orgasm from his gorgeous muscular body like he deserves until he’s a twitching and overstimulated mess. 

You want to see it so bad - the way his spent cock would shrink and retract back into its sheath in protection from your oh-so-giving hands and mouth and pussy. You want to see the goofy and satisfied smirk on his face as he shivers from the aftershocks, just like the one he gives you when you race through the forest and he pretends like you can keep up with him only to completely demolish you in the final stretch. 

Only this one would be better, with his amber eyes so dazed and hazy and not able to focus on anything at all. You’d fuck him so good you think there might even be drool trailing down his cheek from the corner of his mouth, visual proof of a job well done. 

The point is you have more than her. Would be a million times better than her. Duh. 

You see it clear as day every time you close your eyes. You and him taking the next step and moving from just best friends forever to mates - a bond stronger than forever, an eternity bonded together in an unbreakable connection that can never be severed. You’d be his and he’d be yours. Permanently. You know Eywa would agree with you. You may not have your own kuru, but she would find a way to unite you both. 

And if she won’t. You will. 

So now here’s the riddle: If you see what the future will be every time you close your eyes, then why the fuck is it that when you open them right now… he’s with her. 

Smiling at her, holding her hand, their tails flicking behind them and occasionally brushing against each other as they walk towards you. 

Bitterly, you close your eyes and open them again. Nope, still there. You do it again. Still here and closer. You do it again and again, rapid frustrated blinks make your eyelashes flutter as you hope that the next one will show just him. That she will disappear and cease to exist, stop even breathing the same air as him, but she never does. The quick blinks just serve to tire your eyes and make the couple flicker in and out of sight, getting closer and closer to you with each blink. 

“Kaltxì, tanhì.” Neteyam says with a grin. “What’s wrong with you? Something in your eye?”

Iäle smiles at you too, sending you a small wave with the hand not currently on trial and being threatened to be cut off for touching what’s rightfully yours. “Kaltxì, y/n,”

You force a bright smile on your face as you look up at them. “Hi, you two! No, yeah. Just something in my eye, I guess. It’s out now though,” You eye them suspiciously, gaze unable to help but fall to where their hands are still joined together. “Where are you off to?”

“We were going to head to the river,” Iäle responds, and you just barely hold off a wince from how her voice grates on your ears. How can Neteyam stand to hear her speak without wanting to pluck out his own eardrums? “There’s a spot there that’s really nice that has a view of the whole length of the water.” You let out a small hum of acknowledgement instead of rolling your eyes the way you want to. “But Mo’at has called for me. She was going to prepare the paints for tonight’s celebration, but some of the little ones have become ill and she needs to tend to them, so the task falls to me, I guess.”

“Aw, too bad,”

Iäle shrugs, small smile still present on her lips. “It’s alright. I don’t mind. Anything I can do to help is an honor,”

Ugh, spare me. 

“Okay, well, I’ll be heading over there now,” She says, finally. To your relief she lets go of Neteyam’s hand, but your perceptive gaze doesn’t miss the way she squeezes it as she does. Nor do you miss the way Neteyam grins at her in response. “I’ll see you both tonight at the celebration!”

“Byeee,” You respond. Neteyam doesn’t look at you in confusion or pinch his lips together at your tone, so you suppose you were successful at making it sound friendly. 

Your eyes follow Iäle as she heads back towards the center of the village, disappearing behind the group of training warriors on her way to the healer’s tent. As soon as she’s out of sight, Neteyam turns to you and crosses his arms across his chest. Your eyes zero in on the corded muscle of his arms, pulling taut as they flex with his movement, but your ogling opportunity is cut short when you spot the knowing look on his face as he stares down at you. 

“What?”

“Go on,” He prompts. “Say what you’re going to say.”

“How do you know I was going to say anything?” You reply, sass heavy in your voice. Neteyam just raises a hairless brow in response. “You two seem close.”

“There it is,”

“I’m just stating a fact,”

Neteyam sighs. “I like her. That’s what happens when you like someone,”

“Is that right? Then maybe you should hold my hand more often,” You grumble, turning on your heel to walk back towards the lab. He’s quick to follow you just like you knew he would. 

“I hold your hand all the time,”

“Is that right?” You repeat. 

“Y/n,”

You stop suddenly and turn to look back at him. He towers over you like this, so close that if you just took a step closer you would be face to face with the little (yeah fucking right) funzone hidden safely underneath his loincloth. You don’t, instead choosing to crane your neck back to look up at his face, your own brows furrowed as you snap your fingers together twice and point down towards the ground. 

“Really?” He asks, exasperated. Your only response is another rapid round of snaps and an aggressive point downwards. 

Watching Neteyam crouch down in front of you at your beck and call makes heat spark in your core. He’s such a good boy - would be such a good, good boy for you if he could just get his head out of his ass. In the crouch he’s closer to your height, still taller but not so much so that you're craning your neck to see his face, and he holds your gaze as you glower at him. 

“Serious time now,” You say. “Eyes on me.”

“They already are,” He shoots back, and grins in satisfaction at your glare. “Fine. Yes, ma’am,”

And Eywa, it’s like he’s trying to get you to cream your pants saying it like that. 

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again–hey!” You shout, watching as his amber eyes roll upwards at your words. “I. Do. Not. Like. Her. I don’t trust her.”

“So you say, but I still don’t know why–”

“I have my suspicions, Teyam. I don’t trust her intentions with you.” Like intending to take you away from me when you’re MINE. “She’s no good.”

“Why is she no good?”

Cause I said so. “Don’t you trust me?”

Neteyam sighs again, eyes softening as he looks down at your serious face. “Of course I trust you, tanhì,”

“Then trust me now,” You say, voice soft with sympathy as your hand reaches out to caress his arm. His big and muscle packed toned arm. “She’s going to do something to hurt you.”

You want to grind your teeth into dust at the way Neteyam clearly wants to argue with you, but the corner of his mouth just lifts into a pacifying smile. “I know you’re looking out for me. I promise I’ll be careful,”

Liar. 

“You’re such a good friend,”

Fucking ouch. 

Your eye twitches at the words, a grimacing smile pulling at your own lips. “The best friend! Of course,”

“Hm,”

He stands up from his crouch and you turn to resume your walk back towards the lab. Neteyam is a gentleman through and through, so even though he needs to go home and prepare for tonight’s festivities, he walks you home to make sure you're safe. He would do it for anyone - his daddy raised him right like that. But it makes you feel all warm and gooey inside to think that he would only do it for you. You’re his best friend, his future mate, and it’s his job to keep you safe from anything and everything that might try to hurt you. He loves you. You smile smugly at the thought. Neteyam, the mighty warrior - your own personal protector. 

It’s mighty dangerous in the Pandoran forest for a human. Anything could happen. You could break your mask and die of suffocation in a matter of minutes. A thanator could lunge from the dense treeline and gobble you up like you were no more than a midday snack. You could trip and twist your ankle, maybe even sprain it, and Neteyam would have to pick you up in his strong arms that could toss you around like a ragdoll if he wanted to and carry you all the way back to the lab, cradled against him for safety.

Hm. 

You yelp as you quickly catch the toe of your sneaker on the slightly uneven ground on your next step, purposefully throwing yourself onto the ground with a pained gasp as you clutch at your ankle.

“Shit!” Neteyam curses, crouching down and looking at you with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Ow,” You whine, hands still wrapped protectively over your ‘injured’ ankle. “Teyam, it hurts!”

He studies your ankle carefully, his hand reaching out to brush gently across the soft skin to check for tenderness or swelling.

“OW!” You squeal, tears welling up in your eyes at the imaginary pain. 

“Okay, okay,” Neteyam relents, pulling back his hand so he doesn’t accidentally hurt you further. “It doesn’t look broken, but we should probably still get it looked at.”

“No,” You say, voice wobbling as your lower lip trembles. “No, I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.”

“Tanhì, it’s their job. We need to make sure its not–”

“No,” You interrupt. No way. The nurse would take one look at your ankle and bitch you out for wasting her time. No thank you. “It’s fine. I promise. Just twisted and hurts right now. But…”

Neteyam looks unsure. “But what?”

You can’t help how your eyelashes flutter at him. “Can you carry me? I don’t think I can walk right now,”

“Of course, tanhì,”

He picks you up bridal style, which is fitting considering you’ll be his bride one day, and effortlessly cradles you against his chest. You tilt your head to the side, leaning your head against his shoulder as you look up at him with a small smile and a sweet ‘Thank you, Teyam,’ on your lips. His chest is hard and warm against your ear as it presses against his skin, and you wish that you didn’t have to wear this stupid mask to survive outside so you could press your entire face into the solid wall of muscle and inhale his scent. 

The walk back to the lab nearly puts you to sleep with how comfortable you are against him. His steps are careful and smooth, barely jostling you at all and making it feel more like a gentle rocking as it soothes you into a peaceful state. You haven’t felt this calm in a long time. Neteyam has been stressing you out - courting that bitch and parading her around right in front of you. You don’t know why he’s trying to make you jealous, but it’s making you more angry than anything else. This is making up for it though. You think you could forgive his little games and lapse in judgment if he just carries you around pressed against his body a little bit each day. 

He’d have to do other things too, of course. But this would be a start. 

He carries you through the airlock, taking your mask from you and placing it with the others along the attached shelf before grabbing a carbon mask for himself all without letting you touch the ground. He moves with a flawless confidence as he loops the mask around his neck, feet barely pausing in their journey as he takes you all the way up to your room. It’s like something out of your dreams when he lays you on your bed, and for a couple blissful seconds you have the soft mattress at your back and Neteyam’s large hulking figure overtop you just like it’s always meant to be. You wish that he would kneel down on it too, hold himself over you as he sweeps his pretty golden eyes along your sprawled out frame. You’d stretch out even more, putting the entire length of your body on display for him, maybe even let out a small enticing moan just to give him a little show - a little taste at what was to come.

But he’s off the bed and kneeling at your side all too soon, fingers reaching out again to brush against your ankle in concern. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks. “I can still get Jane to come look at it.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine. Just twinged it a bit, that’s all. Jane would just get pissed we wasted her time,”

“If you’re sure,”

“I am,” You insist. “Thank you though, Teyam. For carrying me. You’re really strong.”

Neteyam hums, a crooked smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah, I guess I am,”

He stands up, taking a breath from his mask, and you can tell he’s gearing up to leave. The selfish part of you doesn’t want him to. He should be around you all the time. The thought of leaving your side shouldn’t even pop into his head. And if he has to, if he really has no other choice, you should see pain burning in his amber eyes - the feeling of sorrow so overwhelming that he feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest just to have to leave you for a moment to go on a hunt or use the bathroom.

Annoyance sparks when you don’t see that pain evident in his face. He looks fine. He’s getting ready to leave you, while you’re hurt, and he’s fine. 

“You’re coming to the celebration tonight, right?” He asks when he pulls the mask away, and you plant another sickly sweet smile on your face in response.

“Yeah! I’m gonna be your plus one, of course,”

“Yeah, okay,” Neteyam chuckles. “I’m going to head back. I have some things I have to do before tonight, but I’ll be back to come get you in case you’re still having ankle pain.”

“Sounds good! Thank you, mighty warrior,”

He smirks at the nickname, but doesn’t reply. And then he’s walking out of your room, beautiful expanse of back curving as he ducks under the doorframe, tail flicking out lazily behind him, and wow…

You hate to watch him go, but love to watch him leave. 

The more you think about it, the more you determine that no - you’re not going to stand for this nonsense anymore. 

This little game has been going on for far too long, and it’s about time that this victor claims her prize. That doesn’t mean you have to play by the rules though.

Besides, what fun is a game without playing a little dirty?

The people in the lab are more than helpful without even realizing it. You listen, enraptured, as they tell you about a new plant discovered just off the side of the Hallelujah Mountains. It’s a rare find, and they tell you that the effects when ingested are shockingly similar to some other drugs found on Earth. 

Despite the similarities to some not-so-nice Earth drugs, the scientists in the lab are excited about it. 

“Mo’at says it might be useful for the children that have been sick recently. They’ll be groggy and probably not remember anything, but it will force their bodies to relax and recover instead of them wasting energy being uncomfortable or in pain,” One of them tells you, opening the small jar of powered plant. “It’s potent as a powder so it only takes a small amount to be effective.”

Frankly you don’t know why they’re telling you all this. You don’t have anything to do with the science side of anything here, but you listen with rapt attention as they unknowingly tell you the answer to all your problems. You can practically see the little invisible label on the side of the jar now:

Mating Powder for the Hardheaded Na’vi

Side effects may include dizziness, confusion, mental fog, memory loss, or unconsciousness. 

Warning: For best effects, keep bitches named Iäle away from the consumer so that the provider may have the night of her life that she deserves. 

“Oh, how intriguing,” You tell them. “Very interesting indeed.”

Yeah. Sounds pretty damn perfect. 

You wait until everyone goes to dinner before sneaking back into the lab. They said the powder is potent, just a little bit needed to have the effect on the Na’vi children, so you think that amount plus a little extra should do the job for your stubborn Na’vi male. Slipping some into a small plastic baggie you steal from one of the tables is easy enough, and you're in and out of the lab with no one the wiser to the small little pouch of wish granting power stashed safely in your pocket. 

By the time Neteyam arrives back at the lab, the baggie is already hidden away out of sight, tucked between your breast and the cup of your bra. You don’t want to wear one, it would be so much better to tease Neteyam with the sight of your unbound tits through the thin material of your pretty party dress. But alas, you’ve also chosen to forego panties and you need a place to keep the baggie. So bra it is. 

You’ve made sure it’s at least a sexy lacy one though. You’re gonna get fucked in it tonight, you’re sure of it. 

“What do you think?” You ask him, twirling in your spot and posing to give him a little show of the outfit. “You like?”

Neteyam nods. “Yes, you look beautiful, tanhì. You always do,”

“Do you think I look sexy?”

The slight flush visible on Neteyam’s cheeks is confirmation enough despite his silence. 

“Mate worthy, one might say?” You continue, and this time his hairless brows shoot up. 

“Mate? Are you searching for a mate?”

You hear it in his voice. The jealousy. It’s very subtle, barely even noticeable - most people wouldn't have even caught onto it. But you’re smart, you’re brain in tune with all things Neteyam and Neteyam-like, so all you need is the smallest hint and you can tell it’s there. You just barely hold off a smirk, instead choosing to stare at him with wide eyes. “Jealous?” 

“No, I just didn’t know you were interested in finding one. Is it someone I know?”

“Maybe,”

Neteyam lets out a harsh rush of air that you think could be a laugh. “You’re not going to tell me?”

Eywa, you made this man so… beautiful. 

“Nope,” You smirk, coyly. “Guess you’re just gonna have to wait and find out.”

The walk back to the village is a slow one. You need to be gentle on your ankle, it’s still pretty tender after your fall earlier after all. Plus the longer alone time with Neteyam is an added benefit. You’re going to have to see her at this celebration, so you’re going to need a little bit of extra incentive to get through it. 

By the time you make it to the village’s center, The People are dancing. A flurry of bodies flowing and twisting to the steady beat of the song take up most of the site. The fire sparks at the center of it all, bright and sparkling as it shoots out crackles that arch over top the heads of the dancing Na’vi. There’s people crouched or sitting along the outer ring of the celebration, indulging in food and drink rather than dance and you nudge Neteyam’s thigh, smiling as you point to a small opening of the circle just perfect for the two of you to claim as your own. 

This is how it’s supposed to be - just you and Neteyam enjoying the pleasures Pandora has to offer, side by side like a true mated pair. 

But the moment you sit down on the seating log, your irritation floods your content peace of mind. She’s here. 

She’s got such an attitude about her, pushing her way through the barely there space of the dancing clan and the resting members in the outer circle. What makes her think she’s good enough to make that space for herself? Just go around like a normal person. 

When Iäle makes it in front of you, you notice she only has one swoasey in each hand. 

“Kaltxì,” She smiles, handing one of the cups to Neteyam. She keeps the other one in her hand though, curling her now free hand around the rounded shape to cradle it. “Y/n, I thought to bring you one but I wasn’t sure how you would handle the stronger alcohol as a human, but you can have this one if you want.”

This fucking bitch. How disrespectful. 

“Oh,” You say, and if you add a little more disappointment and sadness into your voice than you actually feel, that’s your business. “That’s okay. I’ll just go get my own.”

“I’ll go get you one, tanhì,”

“No,” You insist. “It’s okay. I’ll be back in just a minute.” 

You ignore Neteyam’s responding frown (and Iäle completely) as you make your way around the outside of the edges of the gathering. Your heart is pounding in your chest, anger boiling there like a pool of molten lava even as you try to keep your features neutral and smile at the Na’vi you pass. You’ve had enough - enough of this. You’re not going to let her embarrass you anymore. 

Wasn’t sure how you would handle the stronger alcohol - fuck off. 

The drink that finds its way into your hand is just as big as the ones Neteyam and Iäle are holding. It’s too much alcohol for you, that’s true, but fuck her for saying it out loud like your size is an insult. You take a sip from the cup, face twisting in disgust as a harsh shiver rocks your body at the taste. Gross, but much needed. 

Your eyes flicker around, searching for wandering eyes as you reach your fingers into your bra. The small baggie is still there and the opening pulls apart easily with a quick swipe of your thumb and pointer finger. Finding no prying eyes, you dump the contents into the cup. The powder dissolves into the drink almost as soon as it touches the liquid, and by the time you’ve shoved the empty baggie back into its hidey spot and swirled the cup a little in your palm, all remaining evidence of what you’ve just done have disappeared completely. 

When you return to the seating log you claimed, Neteyam and Iäle are still there too, and it seems they’ve found some food while you were gone. They’ve switched seats too - Neteyam taking up crouching facing the seats while Iäle has taken the space he was in when you left, leaving you to sit next to the absolute eye-roll of a Na’vi on the log. 

“Here, tanhì,” Neteyam says, handing you a small leaf holding some cooked teylu. You thank him with a pretty smile, pleased with the small declarations of loyalty he has shown for you despite his games. If he’s going to try to make you jealous, at least he’s man enough to still take care of you while he plays around. 

“Y/n,” Iäle says as she bites off a piece of her own teylu. “I hope I didn’t offend you earlier by not getting you a drink. That wasn’t my intention. I just thought—”

“No, it’s okay,” The forced brightness in your voice makes you want to throw up. “Of course it’s okay. No harm done.”

And you wish you could smack her responding smile off her face. 

Iäle’s voice grates on your nerves as she speaks, telling you both about her afternoon of painstakingly mixing together the paints for the newly passed warriors to wear. You pretend to sip at your drink throughout dinner, listening with rapt attention when Neteyam talks about how the day’s training session went and then with barely concealed boredom when Iäle mentions the sickness plaguing a few of the kids. 

“Mo’at thinks they should be well enough in a few days. Especially with the new medicine we are trying out to help keep them calm and rested as they recover.”

“That’s good,” Neteyam says and you quickly nod in ecstatic agreement when his eyes flick over to you.   

He’s done his first drink, the swoasey empty on the ground beside him, so you feign one last sip of your own before shoving it in his direction. 

“Teyam, you wanna finish it for me? Guess it was a little too much for me to handle after all,”

“Oh, okay,” Netayam says, taking the cup from your outstretched hand. “Thanks, tanhì.”

You watch in barely contained satisfaction as he takes a few large gulps of the drugged drink. You wonder how long it will take for it to start affecting him. It can’t be long, maybe just enough time to make up some excuse to leave and then make it back to the lab before it hits. And you can’t be around people when it happens. Especially not her. 

It’s just another confirmation that Eywa wants you and Neteyam to be together when another of Mo’at’s healers-in-training runs up and taps Iäle’s shoulder. Mo’at is busy with the celebration - the Tsahìk is needed to give her speech and blessing for the new warriors - but a few of the little ones are fretful and need an experienced healer’s attention. There are stars in your eyes as you watch Iäle solemnly get up from her seat and wave goodbye to you and Neteyam. You can tell she doesn’t want to leave, wants to stick around and possibly try to dance with your man, but luck happens to be on your side and now you have him all to yourself. 

You’re almost sad you can’t stay and enjoy the celebration as a couple. But there’s no rush. After today, he’ll be yours forever and every celebration from now on will be spent with you in his arms as his girl. 

Neteyam gulps down the rest of the alcohol as he shoves the last bite of teylu in his mouth, and you decide that that’s your sign to move this night along. 

“Teyam,” You whine, eyes wide as you reach down to gently touch your ‘injured’ ankle. “My ankle is starting to hurt again.”

Neteyam’s hairless brows furrow in worry, eyes shooting down to your ankle for just a second before meeting your own again. “You should really see Jane so she can make sure it’s nothing serious,”

“It’s fine,” You say. “Just too much walking on it too quickly I guess. Can you carry me home?”

Instead of answering, Neteyam licks his fingers clean and moves the two empty cups against the log so they’re out of people’s way before scooting around so that his back is to you. You happily wrap yourself around him, arms locked around his neck while his big hands catch your thighs as you jump to wrap your legs around his torso. 

You dig your face into his back as he walks, Neteyam hissing lightly as the cold glass of your mask presses into his spine. You ignore him though, instead enjoying the feeling of his muscles shifting against your front as you press yourself harder against his sturdy frame. Your dress is too long and not being a team player right now - because if it was, it would be hanging differently. As it is, the little excess fabric it has is settling between your thighs and acting as a barrier between your bare pussy and Neteyam’s sculpted back. 

Which is a problem, obviously, because Neteyam’s back muscles should be massaging against your clit right about now. 

Neteyam makes it about three-fourths of the way back to the lab before the drug starts to hit him. He stops suddenly mid-stride, swaying slightly as one hand drops its grip on your thigh to press against the side of his head. 

“Teyam?” You say, voice soft and full of concern. Oh nooooo, what could possibly be wrong? “You okay?”

“Yes,” He grumbles, breathing coming out just a little bit shaky. “Just dizzy.”

“Maybe you had too much alcohol. Let’s hurry up and get back and you can lay down in my bed.”

You watch as he shakes his head as if to clear it, hand coming back down to hold your thigh as he forces himself to continue the rest of the journey. But once the drug starts to take effect on your large Na’vi, it shows no mercy as it wraps him tighter under its powerful grip. His first dizzy sway soon turns into another, and another. 

“Neteyam!” You shout, your grip around his neck tightening as you brace yourself against him when he stumbles forward.

“S-sorry,” He gasps, hands trying to hold you steady as he rights himself. “Sorry, tanhì. Sorry. I-I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“It’s okay,” You soothe, gently reaching up to brush your hand across his damp forehead and swiping a few braids out of his face. “Just a little farther and you can rest.”

The last trek of the walk takes significantly longer than it should have and Neteyam is not doing well by any means. His breathing is harsh now, nearly panting as he struggles to fight off the nearly constant dizziness that he’s feeling. His skin is hot to the touch, sweaty as he stumbles through the Pandoran forest, mumbling obscenities to himself in between nearly incoherent sentences as he pushes forward. You feel a little bad seeing him this way. You love him and you would never want him to suffer, but he brought this on himself. 

When another one of his stumbles nearly throws you from his back entirely, you think that maybe you gave him a bit too much. Maybe you should also get off of his back since it would probably be easier for him to walk without your additional weight on him and having to make sure you don’t fall off every five seconds, but that would mean not feeling the stretch and shift of his hard muscles under your body and, well… you never said you weren’t selfish. 

“I was thinking,” You start, voice low in his ear as your hand once again finds the expanse of his forehead, pressing against it to help keep his head up. “We didn’t see where Iäle got the drink from. Maybe she did something to it.”

“W-what?” Neteyam whispers, brow scrunching under your touch. 

You don’t respond. You don’t need to. You’re not even sure if he’s really going to remember this all anyway, but you smile to yourself regardless, pleased at the seed of doubt you’ve planted. 

The door to the lab is just in sight when Neteyam collapses for the first time. It’s a testament to how strong the Na’vi are, truly, because you know that you gave him a hell of a dose and he was still able to make it all the way back from the village before his body completely gave up on him. You do fly off his back this time when he goes down, landing heavily on your side as he crumples beside you. 

He’s not in his right mind now, so you don’t have to worry about keeping up pretenses with your imaginary injury. Instead, you scramble up, grabbing hold of his arm and urging him to stand back on his feet again. “Come on, big guy. Almost there.”

He collapses again at the door, his body falling into the thick metal of the airlock with a loud bang, and you let out a startled gasp at the sight of his head nearly colliding against it too. Fuck, that would have sucked. You want him lax and vulnerable, susceptible to your desires as you guide you both towards becoming one - you don’t want him knocked the fuck out by taking an accidental blow to the head. 

He mumbles something when you help him up again, and even in his disoriented state he’s still a gentleman as he tries his best not to put too much of his weight on you. Your hand smacks against the open button, ushering Neteyam inside the chamber as it depressurizes from the carbon filled Pandoran air to breathable oxygen. Neteyam takes a knee to rest as you pause next to the mask station, replacing your mask and pack on the shelf and grabbing a carbon mask for Neteyam. You loop the carbon mask around your own neck, worried that taking the time to try to fit it around Neteyam’s might mean the difference between making it to your bedroom and dealing with a passed out Na’vi in the middle of the hallway. 

“Come on, baby,” You say, cupping his cheek and tilting his head towards you. His big amber eyes are glazed over. You think they look so beautiful. 

It seems like forever by the time you finally make it into your bedroom. Neteyam collapses on the bed, large body taking up the entirety of the mattress as he sprawls out, legs dangling off the edge. You pull the carbon mask from around your neck, smiling softly down at Neteyam as you place the mask over his parted mouth. Your hand slips underneath the back of his head as you try to lift it up. It’s heavy in your hold, and Neteyam does nothing to help you as you try to work the strap of the mask underneath it. It takes some adjusting, but a brief moment of perseverance and you’re able to get it under and looped around his neck.

The mask itself is fogged up with Neteyam’s quick breathing and, after a few seconds, you pull it off and rest it on his sternum. 

“I feel heavy,” Neteyam slurs, golden eyes closing for just a second before opening back up, but they’re still unfocused - seeing things, but maybe not actually seeing things. 

“I know, baby. I know,” You coo, a slight pout pulling at your lips as you squeeze reassuringly at his shoulder. “Everything’s going to be okay, I promise. I’m here.”

You know the drug is supposed to put him to sleep, and that’s fine - that’s the goal actually - eventually. But it’s not ideal for right now. Things have to happen first. And with the way Neteyam is looking… well, you don’t know how much time you have left so you need to work fast. 

You climb on the bed, tossing one of your legs over Neteyam’s thighs so you can straddle it and fuck. Oh God, fuuuuckkk. The feeling of his muscular thigh against your bare pussy already makes you want to cum. You’re so wet - have been for a majority of the walk back from having Neteyam’s irresistible body pressed against yours for so long, his muscles teasing their strength as they ripple under his skin. His thigh is no different. Just a block of hard, solid, corded muscle that presses just perfectly against your throbbing clit. 

You allow yourself one experimental rock, dragging the swollen bundle of nerves across his skin. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, hands subconsciously gripping onto his waist to hold him close. You hear Neteyam let out a noise similar to a hum at the movement, too, and the sound shoots straight to your core. 

“Fuck,” You whimper. Get it together. You need to focus on the prize. 

You force your hips to stay still and move your hands inwards, slowly caressing the flat, toned plane of his stomach as you go before tracing the bottom of Neteyam’s cummerbund with the tips of your fingers. 

“Let’s get you comfortable, okay?” You say, softly. “So you can relax.”

Perhaps you should have thought this through a little more. Neteyam’s laying down and the cummerbund ties at the back, so it's another game of ‘shove your hands under the massive amount of deadweight and see if you can fanegal your way around it’. You do, of course. You're persistent in getting what you want. But it takes longer than you would have liked and more effort than you wanted to give, especially given that you have your drenched pussy pressed against his thigh right now and you want nothing more than to hump him like a thanator in heat.

But when it’s finally off, it’s worth it to see that little extra strip of skin. You can’t wait to trace every single one of those exposed bioluminescent freckles scattered around his waist with your tongue. 

“So much better, huh?” You say, tossing the cummerbund to the floor. “Not as restricting.”

Your hands find the hem of your dress, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you in nothing but your pretty lacy bra as your dress joins Neteyam’s cummerbund on the floor. Neteyam’s hazy eyes do their best to follow your movements, and even though the confusion you see in them, they can’t leave the sight of your scantily clad body.

A satisfied smirk pulls at your lips as you lean forward, pressing your hands against his belly as the tops of your arms push your breasts together. The movement makes your clit brush against Neteyam’s thigh again, and you want to whine, want to do it again and again and again until you drench his gorgeous blue skin in your juices. But you’re caught in his gaze as his large golden eyes track your movement, unable to help tracing the curves despite his current state. 

Slowly, your hands drag down his belly, curving to his sides and messaging his hips for a moment before your fingers find the knot at the side of his loincloth. 

“Let’s get this off too,” You whisper. The knot stands no chance against your prying fingers and comes apart easily with just a few flicks and pulls. 

It feels like unwrapping a present as you pull the loincloth from Neteyam’s hips. You’ve seen down there before. The Na’vi aren’t as body conscious as humans are. Plus he’s your best friend, and there’s no need for modesty between friends. If you’ve taken a few extra peeks while he’s changing or bathing then that’s your business, just like you’ve caught him returning the favor more than a few times. 

But it still feels brand new as you stare at the flat space between his thighs. Excitement courses through your veins at the sight of it, your mouth watering at the thought that soon it’s gonna be glistening and puffy and parting at the center to make way for the real prize to come out. 

“Tanhì,” Neteyam mumbles, but you’re quick to shush him.

“Just relax, Teyam,” It hurts to pull your pussy from his thigh, but you have something more important to sit on soon. You just need to coax it out first. “Just feel.”

You settle between his legs on your stomach, hands pressing against his inner thighs and urging them apart a little further to give you better access to his center. You bite your lip to hide your smile, running a teasing finger along the slit before your lips replace your finger with a gentle kiss. 

The first drag of your tongue along his slit already has your eyes rolling back into your head. You’ve never gotten to do this before. You probably could have had other Na’vi lovers before if you really wanted to. You’re gorgeous and Neteyam isn’t the only sexy blue alien who you’ve caught staring at your assets before. But why would you ever want anyone else when you have your mighty warrior right here in front of you. Finally. 

Neteyam grunts above you as you lick at him, long and thorough swipes of your tongue across the slit, again and again, laving the area and coating it in your saliva until you taste the first signs of his arousal seeping from inside. You hum as the first bit of slick touches your tongue, coating your tastebuds and making your thighs clench together in pleasure. Your thumbs press into either side of the slit, pulling it apart slightly so your tongue can push in deeper, desperate for more of Neteyam’s delicious taste. 

Your tongue is relentless as you eat at him and you know that if he had control of his body, his hips would be canting up towards your face. You can picture it now - how next time will be. You’ll be between his legs again, mouth teasing at the flat alien space he has between his legs as you coax his cock out further and further out of its protective sheath with each swipe of your tongue. He’d have one hand clutching at your sheets, fisting them so hard you would probably have rips in them from how hard his fingers would dig into it. His other hand would be on the back of your head, large palm cradling the entirety of it as he presses you harder against him, moaning for you to lick faster, harder, deeper. You wonder how sensitive this part of him is. He’s moaning so much already, quiet punched out sounds that serve to urge you on, and you wonder how much louder he would be if he wasn’t so tired and drugged up. 

The taste of his slick makes your pussy gush, the more you lap up the more your body feels like it's on fire. You’ve heard about the Na’vi having something in their slick that’s intoxicating - your head feels fuzzy, feels good, like you're levitating on air and Neteyam is the only focal point you can see. And when you feel the first poke of Neteyam’s cock peeking through the now puffy and soaking opening of his slit, your hips can’t help the way they grind into the mattress.

You’re quick to wrap your lips around the protruding head, suckling gently at the exposed tip as your thumbs continue to rub soothingly up and down the sides of the now open slit, using the slick there to help the glide. Neteyam grunts at the feel of your lips around his cock, and he has just enough movement of his body left to be able to give a slight arch as you suck a bit harder. 

“Y/n,” He groans, and the sound of your name falling from his lips like that makes you want to scream. 

That’s right, baby. Say my name. 

It’s a blissful experience - Neteyam’s cock slowly filling your mouth more and more as it emerges from its sheath. Another inch and then another, each new barb and bump sliding across your tongue until the very tip of it hits the back of your throat. Despite him not being able to move much, you pin his hips down anyway - a dual combination of your own intense desire for him mixed with the increased need brought on by whatever is in his slick. 

His cock feels so good in your mouth, the texture along his length dragging against your tongue as the cone shaped tip of his cock bumps the inside of your cheek. You adjust again, opening your throat and forcing your head downwards. You gag when his cock breaches your airway, sputtering and choking yourself on him as you do your best to take him in. Fuck, he’s so big. You can’t breathe, can’t even think he’s so big, but you don’t want to move away. You’ve wanted this for so long so if you have to ruin your throat a little bit to make it happen, then so be it. 

The need for air cuts your plan short, and it takes the knowledge that this isn’t the last time you’ll be able to do this to allow yourself to pull off. Neteyam’s cock is shiny and glorious as you free it and allow it to slap against his lower belly. The base of his cock is the same gorgeous pattern of blue stripes that adorn the rest of his body, littered with bumps and barbs and tiny bioluminescent freckles that you know are going to feel magical inside of you. The tip is a pretty lavender color, the colors blending together almost artfully as it spreads towards the slight cone shaped head. Finally being able to look at it properly has you feeling feral, and you can’t resist the temptation to give one last sloppy lick along the entire length of it, the tip of your tongue gently teasing the ridges on the underside of the head before pulling away for good.

Neteyam’s panting is matching yours - deep, heavy, and quick as you both try to catch your breath. You climb up his body and straddle his waist. Your fingers are still a little wet from his slick as you cup his face and tilt it up, bringing his lips in alignment with yours. You press your own against his and you feel so small compared to him. His lips are twice the size yours are and wonder what it would feel like if the positions were reversed right now. You think you would burst into a ball of flames if you had him on top of you like this - his large, heavy body covering you completely and pressing you into your own mattress. Your tongue slides between his lips and glides against his own, and you moan at the rough feel of it.

“Next time we do this,” You murmur against his lips. “I want you to eat my pussy, okay?” You pull back, thumb caressing his bottom lip briefly before you bring the carbon mask back up to his mouth. “Wanna feel what that textured tongue of yours feels like.”

Neteyam gulps down the carbon like it's the only air he’s ever gotten, hazy golden eyes locked on yours as you scoot your hips back without ever breaking eye contact. Your ass meets his cock and you greedily drag your pussy along the length as you let him sip from the mask. The bumps along his length feel like heaven against your drenched cunt, the additional texture so foreign and blissful on your swollen clit. 

When you deemed he’s had enough, you drop the mask back on his chest and place a steadying hand on his stomach. Your other hand reaches behind you, guiding his cock up until the tip of it is nestled against your entrance. 

“Fuck,” You giggle, nervously. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. You’re ready, you’re so so ready. He just feels so big. He is big. He’s going to stretch you out so much. His cock is going to bully its way into your guts and you’re going to feel so full. The very thought of it makes you as terrified as it does excited. Maybe there will even be a bulge. You want to know - you want to know so badly.

With a deep breath, you start to lower yourself down on him. The stretch as the head of his cock penetrates your slick walls has you gasping. Fuck, it feels so intense, so much as his thick girth spears you open. You’re so wet, so ready for him, and the added slick from his slit and your saliva still coats his cock so the slide is as easy as it ever could be. The pressure is there as you bear down on him harder, desperate to feel more of him inside you, but to your complete shock, there is little actual pain.  

The barbs decorating his length scrape deliciously against your insides, dragging across your sensitive walls and pressing into pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had. You let out a relieved laugh when you finally fit in all that you can take. You’re so full, so amazingly full that you feel like you want to cry. There is a bulge - you can see it clear as day, pressing from the inside of your belly, and your hand caresses the bulge lovingly. 

That’s your mate’s cock inside of you. 

Finally.

When you look back up at Neteyam, you see that his eyes are rolled back in pleasure, just the bottom of his golden irises and his blown pupils are visible underneath his hooded eyes. 

“Feel so good inside me, Teyam,” You whisper, and you think the slight grunt he lets out at your words is him agreeing. “So, so good.”

His cock feels even better when your hips start to move, slowly raising up until only the tip is left inside you before sliding back down, your own pussy becoming its new protective sheath. You keep it safe inside you, cradled and protected within the loving hug of your slick walls as you ride him faster. Harder. Each push of his cock inside you feels like you're being blessed. You’ve been a good girl, you’ve earned this. And now, despite you having to play a little dirty to get to this point, your efforts are being rewarded. Neteyam is your god and you’ll worship the ground he walks on until the day you die. And from this day forward, he’ll worship you in return. 

The bulge in your belly disappears and reappears with each movement of your hips, and your clit throbs, pulsing with need and begging for you to give it some attention. You don’t want your own fingers. You’ve had more than enough of your own touch over the years. Your eyes land on Neteyam’s hand still lying limp next to him. His long fingers are curled slightly against the bed, his best attempt at clutching the sheets just like you know he would be now if he could, and you’ve imagined those fingers playing with your sensitive bundle of nerves more times than you can count. 

Your hand goes to reach for it, set on feeling Neteyam’s beautiful fingers between your thighs even if you have to guide his movements yourself. But then your eyes fall on the carefully maintained braid lying just a few inches next to that hand and your priorities change.

Yes. 

He’s your mate. He’s yours. You deserve this. You get to touch it. 

Your hips slow to a careful grind as your fingers clasp gently around the bottom of his kuru. It feels good in your hand, the hair covering the neural queue feels glossy and perfect against your palm. A small smile creeps onto your lips as you flip open the very tip of it, and you stare greedily as the hair falls away revealing the bright pink wiggling extensions of Neteyam’s nervous system. 

From behind the wriggling tendrils, you see Neteyam’s head shift towards you again, his golden eyes hooded and a little bit teary from pleasure as he watches you hold onto the most sacred part of him. 

“You’re mine, okay?” You tell him. “Only mine. Forever.”

To seal your words, you bring the pretty pink tendrils to your lips, pressing a featherlight kiss to them before caressing them with the flat of your tongue. You watch Neteyam react to the feel of your tongue licking against them. His pupils blow out more than you ever thought was possible, black overtaking his eyes and leaving only the thinnest band of gold around the edges. The sounds leaving his mouth now make your pussy clench around him tighter, and you’re again cursing the fact that you’ve even had to do this because they could be louder. He could be screaming right now, but he can’t because of the stupid drugs hold on him. 

Next time, y/n. Next time, you have to remind yourself, or you think you might go mad.  

You lick them again, already obsessed with the way they feel against your tongue and the giddy thought of ‘I licked it so it’s mine’ has you grinning in victory. 

You pull the tendrils away from your tongue and start to drag them slowly down your body. They slide wherever you take them, still wiggling and searching for purchase but never finding any as you drag them down your neck, over your collarbone and the tops of your breast. You want to pull down the cup of your bra and see if it would latch onto one of your nipples, desperate to know what they would feel like and how Neteyam would react to it, but the pulsing need between your thighs refuses to be ignored. They wriggle along your belly, over the bulge still present there, and tickle the inside of your thigh as you guide it closer and closer to your intended bonding zone. 

When they reach for your clit, the feeling has you squealing. They’re relentless, determined to find something to wrap around and latch onto, but the wetness between your thighs has them sliding and squirming and unable to bond to you. It feels so weird, so weird and so good as they try to wrap themselves around your clit. Your hips move again on their own accord, riding him harder and faster while the tendrils inadvertently play with your clit, and holy fuck - fuck fuck fuck you think you might be going insane. 

Somehow the tendrils find purchase through the wetness, a few wrapping themselves around your clit while the others stick themselves to the inside of your folds. And you can feel it - can feel the energy radiating from them. 

It’s not how it’s usually done, but you’re not the usual couple. You don’t have a kuru so it shouldn’t be possible for you to bond fully with Neteyam, but you never believed that. And now you’ve proven that you were right. You can feel the bond forming from where you’re connected - from his most intimate part to yours. 

Neteyam’s eyes are rolled back into his head again, so far gone that you can only see the whites of his eyes at the bottom. His chest is heaving under your palm, small grunts and moans spilling from his lips and even though his body can barely move, his cock twitches and pulses wildly inside you. 

You can feel his knot forming at the base of his cock, the thick ball of tissue swelling and expanding with each thrust. It’s starting to catch at the rim of your pussy and each pass over it gets harder and harder to not get caught on it. 

“Ooooh fuck,” You whine. It already feels so big. “Teyam, fuck,”

You don’t have to take it. You could pull off now and wrap your hand around it to help finish him off. But why the fuck would you do that? He’s yours. You were made for him. Meant to take him. All of him. And you’re not letting this opportunity pass without taking everything. 

The next downward push of your hips is the last one you’re able to make. Neteyam’s knot is so big and you push your hips down on it harder, making it force its way inside you under your bodyweight. You can’t help the small scream that tears from your throat as it locks inside you, tethering you to Neteyam for who knows however long - and then you’re cumming.

Your orgasm tears through you relentlessly, body shaking and spasming as your hands reach out and hold onto Neteyam for dear life. Neteyam’s cock pulses inside you, warm ropes of cum painting your insides as he pants beneath you. When your orgasm is through and you’re done shaking enough to lift yourself up again, you notice Neteyam’s eyes are closed.

He’s sleeping now and you’re exhausted, so you lay your head down on Neteyam’s chest and try to get as comfortable as possible.

His knot stays locked inside you and the tendrils of his kuru remain wrapped around your clit as you drift off to sleep with him. 

By the time Neteyam wakes up, it’s almost like nothing has even happened. 

You’re free from his knot and his cock has since retracted back into its sheath. You’ve cleaned you both up a little, wiping away the evidence with a damp cloth and even though you know he’s going to be able to smell everything still, it’s not like that matters. You’re not trying to hide what happened between the two of you - just how it happened. 

You’ve disposed of the baggie which is the important part anyway.

Somehow you’ve managed to get Neteyam’s loincloth back on. It was tricky given his sleeping position, but you’ve always been a little crafty. His cummerbund is still on the floor though along with your dress, but you’ve decided to go for a more comfortable t-shirt look after wiping yourself clean.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed playing with Neteyam’s songcord that was at one point looped around the band of his loincloth when his eyes flutter open. He groans, one hand coming up to press against the side of his head as he looks around the room in confusion. He seems to relax a bit when his eyes land on you. 

“Wha–what happened?” Neteyam asks, voice no louder than a gruff mumble. 

He still looks a little out of it, the drugs not quite completely out of his system yet. When you look into those big beautiful golden eyes of his, they’re wide and confused. But, more importantly, they’re clear and haze free. He’s himself - he’ll remember this.

So you say your next words carefully with the confidence that he’ll remember them. 

“Iäle drugged you,” You tell him. “She drugged your drink and tried to take advantage of you. But she got called away before she could.” You reach out and cup his cheek, thumb sweeping across his cheekbone lovingly. “I took care of you.”

You hate the spark of doubt you see in his eyes at your words, no doubt thinking that Perfect Iäle would never do such a thing, but you know he trusts you. You’ve never given him a reason not to. You’re the perfect friend - kind, loyal and trustworthy. You wouldn’t say something like this if it wasn’t true. 

“I knew she was no good,” You add. “I felt it in my heart. But it’s okay. I’m here, Teyam. I’m gonna take care of you.”

Neteyam’s lips part like he wants to speak and you know there’s probably a barrage of questions on the tip of his tongue, but the leftover drug still in his system forces him to be silent. You watch, pleased, as his eyes slip shut again, sending him into another round of haze filled sleep.

You hope he dreams. Maybe he’ll dream of what you just told him - see a different version of reality in which Iäle really did drug his drink instead of you and believe that that is this reality. Or maybe he’ll dream of you - your smile, your voice, your touch.

He’ll feel it now. When he wakes up again, he’ll feel it. The undeniable pull towards you as his mate. He’ll realize that he’s been a fool, wasting his time messing with another girl when he’s had you here, perfect and pretty for him this whole time. 

Bye, Iäle, you think smugly, resting your upper body out along Neteyam’s hips and propping your chin up against his stomach.

I win.

**Special thanks to @quicktosimp and @itchaboi-itchyboy for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @minnory @localjasmine @skywonder @neteyamswillow @luvv4j4ybe11 @vampirefilmlover @aria-tempest @pocky444 @bambithewriter @xylianasblog @anemonelovesfiction @criticallybella @sbrn0905

**Comment here to be added to/removed from my taglist!

[kismetlotts]

-`♡´- pervy Johnny Soap Mactavish with a somnophillia kink x afab femreader

cw: somnophillia, non consensual play, stalking, mentions of pillow humping, sex toys, pantie sniffing, mentions of sa (the word r*pe) cumming untouched, male masturbation, mentions of gagging, mentions of ejaculation tasting bad, non consensual pornography, mentions of regurgitating (no actual v*miting), mentions of violence (no actual violence)

Soap was a disgusting and dirty man. He came across the usual sweet caring soldier he always pretends to be. Someone eager to get things done, eager to do well but deep down he wasn’t as innocent and nice as the character he portrayed.

He was good at hiding the desires too. Quick to make a run to the bathroom to rub one out when you bend over, quickly getting in a few exercises before the next mission. Quiet enough to keep his grunts in his throat as his cock paints his underwear white at the sight of you.

He wouldn’t call it an obsession but you really did something to him. There was something about your dirt covered clothes with sweat and grime staining your skin that opened his eyes and made him fall still. You weren’t the first woman he’d worked with but you were the first he’d set his eyes on, the first he’d substantially claimed for himself.

Then things began to get bad, being on missions with you were too risky. Of course he’d jump a bullet for you and protect you consistently but he found himself getting distracted- more so than before.

Your body sprawled out in front of him, that hot little mouth that wouldn’t stop panting out orders. How could he not imagine you just like that in his bed naked?

He felt like he was back to being a teenager, one hand on his dick and the other clutching his mothers stolen magazine opened on page 3. It was embarrassing how horny he was and under what circumstances, so he did the mature thing and decided to try put an end to it.

Picking your front door lock was easy- too easy and if he had a good excuse as to why he was checking your lock he would alert you of it immediately. You work in the military, making enemies daily and the lock at your home is that easy to break? What if when you came home someone had let themselves in, waiting for you to come back and stab you in the throat.

Shaking off that thought, he’d bolt upstairs and snatch what he could without it being noticeable. Your panties- used and washed. The cushion he’d seen you ride and cum over because it’s normal to peek through your crushes window, right? An old vibrator, a bottle of your perfume, body lotion. All the things he could possibly think of that would turn him on, he’d taken. Shoved in his pocket before leaving and going back home.

And when he was home, oh was it fun. He’d strip off his clothes and lay on his bed, stringing your clean, cute, frilly little panties over his already hard dick. Maybe if he didn’t make a mess on them, he’d return them, knowing that something his throbbing cock touched would be so close to your sweet ol’ cunt.

Your used panties on the other hand, would lay on his face, your scent still prominent on the fabric and cascading into his nostrils. Maybe he’d lick a stripe down the middle, maybe he’d shove it all in his mouth and force himself to gag on it, but as of right now your smell was doing enough for him.

He’d coat his hands with your favourite lotion, the scent of you on the panties and the smell of your skin earning a grunt from his mouth: he’d probably sprayed your perfume around his room before this too-to get himself started and in the mood obviously.

It was like you where there, in his hands, over his body and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted with you. As he thrusted into his hand he’d think of you, eyes darting to your pillow and vibrator. Would you ever think of him while you used them?

He strained his other hand out, reaching and turning on the sexy device and watching it flicker and pulse while the settings slowly got more powerful.

“Fuck..” He groaned, his fist shaking faster and faster to the thought of you. It made him fucking wild.

Did you have this against your clit imagining his tongue? Did you use this over and over, your back arching with eyes squinted shut while you thought of him? His name leaving your mouth? His name being screamed?

And with them thoughts hed cum, shooting high in the air, coating your panties and his stomach. He’d wash them later probably, or maybe just wipe it a bit and let the rest of the cum dry before slipping to back into your bedroom drawer.

Surprisingly though, it did nothing to tame his desires, if anything it worsened them. He’d sometimes stuff your dirtied panties in his pocket and bring them to work, talking to you- face to face- as his fingers clutched the soft material.

“I think i’m going crazy, things just seem to be going missing at my house.” You’d tell him gaining a small gasp of surprise from him. Your face looking away as you bite your lip anxiously.

“God that sucks, do ya think your misplacing em?” He’d ponder aloud, keeping his smirk in as he comforted you. Hates seeing how worried you get over this, so he’d support you as much as you he could. Deep down he wishes he could just hand them back over to you or leave them back in the place he found them but he couldn’t return everything. What if you found that little cum stain he’d left? He was certain you were a virgin and if you found that you’d definitely panic and get the wrong idea.

Johnny wasn’t a stalker or some sex driven psychopath who wants to rape and kill you. He’s just a friend who finds you attractive, and he needs a few things to help relieve himself. Isn’t that what friends do? Help each other out?

“I don’t know.. I’m sorry if this is too much information, but it’s usually my underwear that gets lost. I’m scared I have a stalker or something..” His cock throbbed as you admitted that to him, your plump lips quivering slightly as you attempted to mask your fear. Johnnys rough hand came and met your back giving you a soothing rub and he smiled as you. Earning a small jump and wide eyes in return.

“Don’t worry lassie, even if there is one i’m here to protect ya! I’m sure your knickers will turn up somewhere.. Probably just stuffing em elsewhere by mistake.”

His Scottish accent and meaningful words would always bring you a feeling of comfort, as the both of you were getting so close. The two of you arranged meet-ups with the team and without, you trained together and you really were building your friendship. Sometimes you’d even ask yourself if there was anything more there, maybe a possible romance but you didn’t want to ruin what you had at this moment and pushed your thoughts into the future: the chemistry was definitely there though. He was someone you trusted and everyone knew that, so it was no surprise when you were injured out in the field, the team ordered Soap to drive you home.

He’d watch as you pass out, over and over again most likely from tiredness, Price really pushed the team far with that last mission but as always, everyone buckled down and completed it efficiently. Soap occasionally leaned over bolting you awake with a gentle slap of your cheek because he knew he was losing control of himself. The sight of you unconscious next to him as he drove your car home made him mad- feral. Such a sweet innocent girl totally oblivious to the white knuckles that clenched your steering wheel, and the outline of his hard cock that stood upright as he drove.

Your house wasn’t far from his- walking distance in fact, and funnily enough you had to drive past his house in order to get to yours. Johnnys eyes flicked to the light spilling through the window coming from his bathroom en-suite. He exhaled a sigh, cursing himself out under his breath as he pulled up and onto the drive.

The team trusted him to drive you home safely, to make sure you were safe and asleep in your own home but how would they even know he brought you here. He only needed to pop in quickly anyway. The seatbelt hit the side of your car and he took the keys out and left quickly, glancing back at the windshield and stopping before he reached his door.

What if someone was following the two of you and leaving you out here alone could result in your death? What if you vomited and chocked and he wasn’t there to save you? What if- But deep down he knew he’d bring you inside regardless.

Swooping you up in his arms bridal-style and carrying you inside, you disliked being lifted and he knew this but he couldn’t wake you now. You’d probably tell him something like “It’s fine, i can drive home anyway. Don’t worry.” And he wanted you with him. Plopping you down on his bed, he walked over to the door, before flipping the switch and walking back over to the bed.

His eyes flickered to your body, the soft fall and rise of your chest and the obvious tent in his military cargos. It was dangerous having you here and even he knew that. Luckily enough the items he had stolen were stashed under his bed however for some reason he wished they were out, scattered around you without you knowing.

His hands reached out to brush the hair on your face out the way and tucked it behind your ear, revealing your face and the slight drool dripping from the crack of your lips.

“Pretty lil thing aren’t ya? Hm?” He asked you in a whisper despite there not being a response. He felt as your body warmed under his hand and hummed in delight, his thumb swatting the saliva away and tracing the soft skin of your cheeks. His stomach fluttering like a butterfly house.

Everything felt tight, the room, his cargos, your shirt and he found himself slipping out of control. Hands rubbing the smooth skin of your tummy and chest beneath your top careful not to graze the small wound, before pulling the material up just below your tits, you weren’t wearing a bra, his eyes settled on your skin.

“How fucking adorable.” He growled, and it wasn’t long before he wanted and required more.

Now, he wasn’t going to fuck you or taste you as much as he wanted too. You were going to be awake when he did that, he needed to hear you moan his name, push his head deeper between your thighs, or fuck back onto his cock shamelessly needing to reach your own orgasm. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t toy with you now. You were his little puppet and he wanted to make a show out of you, all for himself.

His hands rushed to his cargos quickly fishing his phone and the panties out of his pockets, throwing his phone on the duvet and hiding your panties under the bed with the rest of them. God he couldn’t fucking wait any longer.

He started unbuckling his belt and pushing them down to his ankles along with his boxers. Smiling down at you as his dick leaked like a broken tap and sprung upright. He cupped it, stroking it a few times his eyes closing at how much he’d been waiting for this. The amount of nights he had laid in the same spot as you were, jerking himself just like he was doing now.

His hand let go of himself watching as he twitched crazily in need of something to fuck. He could get out that cushion again, the one you used to ride naked against. He’d made a sweet little hole in that one and left plenty of stains and could add one more right in front of you, but he wanted you.

His hand reached out grabbing your chin and dragged your face along to the other side. The warm air from your nose hitting his palm and he slowly pulled your jaw down, opening your mouth. His heart fluttered in his chest at the sight and he itched his body closer, placing his swollen tip against your mouth.

His hand tapped himself against your lips leaving a small string of precum as he leaked over your lips. The sight was heavenly and he bit his lip trying his best not to lose control and start fucking into your mouth. His precum glossed your lips and something in him snapped. He couldn’t give up a sight like this and keep it as a memory-his other hand dashed over grabbing his phone.

It was just material he’d use for later, you would understand. His phone snapped a few pictures of your pretty little face and his dick against your lips, he even videotaped himself edging over you and watching as his precum dripped off and fell on you. His fingers dug into your mouth and grabbed your tongue before tugging it out slowly careful not to wake you, groaning at the sight.

“Sweet little angel..” He moaned. His tip hit your tongue and whimpers fell out his mouth at the feeling. It wasn’t as wet as he’d imagined but his dick made up for that with its own wetness. He jerked himself faster, legs trembling almost as he felt himself get close. Next time he’d cum in your mouth. He couldn’t risk waking you up or god forbid making you choke, it was a hazard and he didn’t want to take his chances.

His breathing became jagged and he stroked faster and faster, his aim worsening as he felt your warm breath hover over his cock. With one last tug he came undone, shooting white all over your shirt and on your chin and neck. Missing your mouth luckily. His thumb swept up a bead of his cum from your chin and he transferred it onto your tongue knowing that when you awoke you’d taste him, his diet wasn’t the best and he probably didn’t taste wonderful but he was too horny to care.

Johnny took a step back to admire his work with smile on his face and he took a few pictures of the end result. He found you so so beautiful like that, all messed up and solemnly relaxed. He wished he could stay in this moment forever but unfortunately the sound of his phone chiming brought him out of his trance. He’s got to get you cleaned up and home.

He slipped back into his cargos again and refastened his belt still breathing heavy from his orgasm. Slowly he lifted you back up and carried you to the bathroom propping you up on the counter. He felt as your head hit his shoulder and he let out a small laugh before lifting up your shirt, threading your arms out carefully and throwing it into his wash basket, blending in with his shirts similar in colour.

He rinsed a facial towel under warm water for a few seconds before whipping off himself off you, trying to be gentle and not to wake you but taking subtle glances at your breasts as he cleaned you up. Your skin was soft and warm under his touch and he found himself already becoming hard again but he ignored it for now, he’d pleasure himself later with the new photos he’d taken.

“Mmmm.. Johnny?” A voice mumbled tiredly and close to his ear and he froze sensing you were awake. The smell of him sent your stomach into swirls and your head flipped back. Rubbing your eye’s and opening them slightly. Johnny watched as your face scrunched up in disgust while your tongue lapped the roof of your mouth, swallowing down the unfamiliar taste. Really, he should be ashamed of what he did, it was perverted of him but it just turned him on more, making his cock harder in his underwear.

“You awake? Sorry bonnie, I was driving you home and you vom’ed over yourself. I was going to wake you but figured you needed some sleep. Just popped into mine and got you cleaned up.” Your eyes held his, so innocent and pure and blatantly unaware of the previous activities. But as you took in your surroundings you gave him a small smile and met his eyes once more.

“Thanks. I can drive myself home now don’t worry about me.” You mumbled pushing off the counter. Soap was about to protest but the throb of his dick kept him quiet and he cleared his throat trying his best not to glance back at your tits.

And with his small throat clearing you realised you were shirtless. Your face instantly burning red as you reached up to cover yourself, beginning to form a sentence of apology or something alongside that but he cut you off shaking his head.

“Don’t worry lass it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. I’ll get you one of my shirts to put on. Threw yours in the bin since it was covered in dirt and blood anyway.” He walked over to his wardrobe pulling out a t-shirt and threw it your way with a comforting smile and you caught it quickly.

“Thank you Johnny.” You smiled, slipping it over yourself and walking over to join him in the bedroom. It was quite an open space and you smiled as the air smelt of him with a subtle hint of something familiar, smelt similar to your perfume but you shrugged it off. His hands rummaged over the drawer and picked out your keys, tossing them to you. He grabbed his phone off the bed shutting it off and began walking you down the stairs towards the front door. You took a step outside the cold air hitting your bare arms before turning back to meet his eyes, there was something different in them but you couldn’t place what.

“Drive home safely. Any problems give me a call.” His hand tapped the back of his phone and smiled at you widely, you nodded back to him smiling again and thanking him for cleaning you up before unlocking the car and slipping inside. The air didn’t smell funky or like vomit which was a good thing and you checked the seats seeing not a single drip on them. You breathed out a happy sigh, putting the car into drive.

Completely and utterly unaware to his dirty and sexual shenanigans and what photos he was currently scrolling through as he drove.

[bear-remn]

Reiji's headcanon please as you did with Shuu!!!! I need them😭😭

— reiji headcanon's

omg thank you for enjoy! and since you ask, i came to deliver!!! and a little of my art as well!

tw: this post has nsfw content (+18) , so if you dont like it dont read it!!

this draw came out so much better than i thought, reiji is so fun to draw i love him so much!!!

his looks and selfcare

for start, reiji, unlike shu, do enjoy taking care of his skin and hair, at the begining of reiji's teen years, some acne began to pop out, and could'nt stand the fact that shu did not have any acne, not even once, so he started to take care of it, he often buys expensive lotion, soaps, and other skin creams, he totally watch tutorials on how to clean his skin properly, and always tries new suncreens on the market.

and i think that reiji does also buys expensive shampoo's and conditioner, he need it for his dry hair, so he totally buys profesional stuff. he prefers probably scents like jazmin, wooderish, also honey... even maybe lavanda.

and bc he cares a lot for his appearance, he showers very often, at least his body, reiji washes his hair like four times a week. and a little detail is that when he wash his hair, reiji uses hot water, but when he showers only his body, reiji uses cold water.

and to keep himself good looking reiji excersive sometimes, like two times a week and its intense, no one really notice bc he does it in his room.

and when it come to clothes, reiji does enjoy fancy clothes, i like to think reiji go through a face where he was looking for his real aesthtetic, he tried vintage, victorian stuff and in some point he tried the bad boy aesthetic, he find it a little too much casual for him, until he reached a more refinated, fancy but not too flashy style. even so he loves the turtle neck sweaters.

i think reiji is very aware of how handsome he is, his face is similar to his fathers, meaning, a sharp jaw and having a pretty nose, wich bone stand out a little. id say his nose and his eyes are the most atrative thing about his face. love a big nose on reiji, and his eyes are the most similar to his father, with that magenta color and a very intimidating gaze. In addition to having slanted eyes like his father, reiji gaze is like that of a cat, a little arrogant and seductive.

and for his body id say reiji is more of a slim kind of body, he has some good muscles for working out, reiji has good arms and shoulders, but his hands are really pretty, has long fingers and well treated nails. and as shu he also has a prominent v line, but reiji waist is more small.

reiji also takes good care of his body hair, the man shave for having a good smooth skin everywhere, yes, everywhere. and as shu, has that thing that dont let him grow a hole beard so he often shave it.

random stuff

soo... reiji is a little freak and you can't change my mind, he definetly has some obsessions and cant get over it, he just love things much he cant live without doing it, and to begin with one thing is his obvious collection of fancy plates, cups, teapots and has a little collection of rare spoons. reiji puts them in diferent parts of the manor just to look at them everywhere he goes, and he does not use any of them. he cleans them once a week.

and speaking of his obsessions, reiji has a secret but popular social media where he post is collection, he is very famous and dont show his face.

and he totally has OCD when it comes to order, without realize reiji is always ordering everything symmetrically and harmoniously to the eye, even when it comes to food, reiji orders the food on the plate in an elegant and orderly way.

also, i think reiji dont eat half of what he cooks, he prefer cooking than eating, but he enjoy's more doing desserts or really fancy meals. he also post this in his secret famous social media.

reiji is the kind of ADHD people that needs to do things right away, like the first thing in the morning to do is do his bed, when he finish cooking he cleans everything, when he take off dirty clothes he does laundry instantly, and like that with every little activity he does. maybe bc his mind is a little complicated and if he does'nt do something right away he might become anxious.

i think that bc of reiji doing ocasionally excercise, for some reason, reiji does not stretch his muscles before or after exercising, which causes him to cramp at the worst times, when he is in class, when he is studying or even while sleeping, on those occasions he is still asleep but cannot wake up completely, which causes his cramp to only extend until he wakes up from the excruciating pain.

i think reiji also has photografic memory, ofc bc of his childhood he memorize a lot of book and it just became something normal to him. he can remember every little detail he read, hear's or see's. having an almost perfect memory.

and maybe something cruel, but reiji hates animals, he has killed a few with his bare hands. he cant stand them, but secretly likes some cats.

i think that reiji has a secret shelf full of romantic books, the man loves romance novels. he read them before going to sleep.

and even if he does'nt get along with his brothers, reiji always takes píctures of their "good" moments, like ayato's matchs, subaru's plants, dinners or bals in the demon world.

nsfw

oh and this man? in bed? lord have mercy.

for starting, reiji has a big dick, straight foward, he is big, i cant deny it. its long but not so thick, and when hard it looks up proud and shiny. only one big vein that comes from his croch. just hot. 18.5 cm and if he is really horny he can get to 19. wild.

reiji is totally dominant, but for the right person he is such a bottom, a power bottom tho. reiji dont like the feeling of being dominated and controled, but he does enjoy when someone put him in his place, mommy issues thing.

oh, and when reiji is interested in someone, is really... slow.

i like to think that reiji, for his childhood and the little love he recieved, he does not quite undertand how to express correctly how he feels, and speaking of a vampire its double hard. reiji craves for having something close to affection, so he always watches how people or other vampires in love interact, but he does not belive that love is something a vampire can feel. deep shit i know.

the only thing close to reiji giving affection is by acts of service, he would spoil you without notice. if you two live together reiji will be around you everytime he can, and if he feels confortable enough, he will start to invade your personal space to make you nervous, or to make a reaction out of you. a at sometime he would'nt realize he is invading your personal space.

like if in the morning your shirt it's not buttoned properly, he would come really, really close, and button it right. all of that while looking into your eyes, and amazingly, building sexual tension. after that he would just act normal and shit. such an ass.

in other occasion, like if you two are in a casual conversation, reiji would come closer and just take a little eyelash off you cheek, but he gets so close that you can feel his breath while telling you "just... keep steady hun..." and also would just do that thing where he puts your hair in place and touch your skind with delicacy.

and when you kiss him, bc he would not start it, reiji would be so amazed, since the firts kiss he would kiss you any place when you two are alone. and after every kiss, reiji smile warm and softly at you, cute.

and more into that, reiji would devour your mouth, but he is imponent about it, meaning he like to surprise you while kissing, bc he loves to get your reactions. i think that while you two kiss reiji is touching your lowers back to push you againt him, would smile during the kiss and then pull your hair a little to look into your eyes. he likes the feeling of you being his.

"what? wanting more i see...?" and his little cocky smile is everything.

and if the kiss got heated, reiji would push you to anything to be on top of you, he loves that, being on top of you.

i think reiji is embarresed of being sucked off, mostly bc i also think reiji is very... vocal during sex. and a little more sensible than normal. and the little times you get to suck him reiji woud stop you at some point to give you pleasure now. and he is a dick about that too. but he stop you bc he dont want you to see him breaking during his climax, the man is a little shy.

reiji likes bending you, putting your knees in your chest while giving you oral, and he does it right, he gets how the female anatomy works so he knows what he is doing, also loves to hear you plead him to make you cum, but sorry for you, reiji loves edging you... a lot.

"not yet darling... keep it a little more.."

oh... and the nicknames, he say thems with a low and seductive tone that would literally would make anyone weak just to hear. amen.

and ofc, he can make you squirt, the man know things.

and about his favorite positions, reiji loves bending you, making your body hurt a little by how strength he puts into his grip on you. specially the one where you are on your back, with you anckles in his shoulders, and he just press you on the bed hard. he wants to be so deep on you that just thinking about it makes reiji tremble. he find being inside you something special, he doesnt do it just for having sex, the man wants to feels the conection, deep shit for him.

i think reiji loves every position he gets to see your face, but he needs to be on top, just love to see you so little under him.

i also think reiji is very versatile with the speed the puts, like it depends on the mood, if he is very horny and needy he would break you, he is fast and hard, loves to hear his balls slap your ass in every trust, reiji would smack you ass sometimes and definetly slap your face during it, after that he would kiss you hungry and stick his fingers in your mouth. in other moments reiji can be more passionate, like more romantic about it, but the thing that reiji keep doing it at every mood, is that he keep eye contact.

and god have mercy bc reiji has some good precious eyes.

reiji loves looking at your eyes, doesnt care if you look back at him, but will force you to look at him if you are about to cum.

"just like that love... give it to me... let me see you love.."

and is into it for creampies, he just loves the idea of filling you up as many times as his and your body can handle. and cums a lot, probably bc he dont masturbate too much.

"yea?? ill give it to you love... take it all..."

another position he might like would be maybe standing up or againts a wall, just loves to see you trying to hold onto something but failing and just hold him for support, he loves when you touch him, in any kind of way tho. but also bc he loves to see your legs tremble.

thats a little detail i like, reiji does'nt get satisfaced if your legs dont tremble when you cum, or during sex, he likes to feel how they tremble, see them giggle and lost its strenght, makes reiji feel powerfull bc of how he can make your body break. but does'nt say it out loud.

and the man dont get tired like... never, but do knows his limit, and his aftercare? maybe the best one. if you need water, a candy, food, cuddles, a bath, reiji will make it for you, instantly, dont doubts. and the cuddles are so cute, he will give you a masage and maybe give you oral again, he cant keep his mouth away from you.

the man just want you to feel good, and he knows how to do it. makes reiji feel powerfull.

── more of my content here!

[slasherbvnnie]

Until We Found You | Part IX

And we’ve finally made it to the last chapter of Until We Found You. Fun fact, I had the first part and this one ready at the same time. I had the vision for it and you’ll see why it’s titled the way it is at the end. I really enjoyed writing this, I love it so much. Thanks to everyone who also voiced their love for it, you all are so kind and I wish you the best. Also, in true scream fashion, we had to mention psycho. For this last time, heed the tags.

Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Poly!Ghostface x reader, NSFW, All characters 18+

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII

Word Count: 1404

”Baby come on! You’re gonna miss the movie!” Stu yelled out as he took a seat on the left side of the couch. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” you huffed out as you walked down the stairs. “if someone kept all my things where I leave them I wouldn’t be running late,” you said teasingly, hearing Stu laugh. “Oh come on baby, you know seeing makeup and hair shit scares the ladies away,” he teased as you rolled your eyes. “Careful Stu, she’ll probably choke you out if she finds out about another girl,” Billy said as he walked by you, offering you a soda which you gladly accepted, planting a kiss to his cheek as you two walked to the couch together. You sat besides Stu, Billy on your right as Stu placed a blanket over all three of you.

“So what are we watching?” You asked as you relaxed back, smiling as Billy set the popcorn bowl in your lap. “Psycho,” Billy said with a smile. “ah, going old school today? We should watch Rebecca after,” you added in as Stu smiled. “I like your thinking, doll, I was gonna say we should watch that too,” he said as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

You three were about half an hour into the movie, your head resting on Billy’s shoulder as you held hands with Stu. You felt his hand leave yours, making you whine in protest and look over to him. “I’m bored,” Stu said as he yawned, Billy looking over and rolling his eyes. “How about we play a game then?” He asked as you and Stu’s attention now settled on the older male. “What kind of game?” You asked as Billy smirked. “Our own kind of game, baby,” he hummed, Stu smirking as if he knew exactly what Billy was talking about. “You’re gonna let Stu play around with you, but I’m going to question you. Don’t worry, it should be easy for you baby, it’ll be all about horror movies.” He smirked, looking at you like you were about to be his prey, you cowered a little at his gaze, pushing your thighs together as you grew needy just from his look. “Awh, look at that Billy, already getting turned on for us,” Stu said as he adjusted and set you on his lap, his hands running over your clothed body as Billy moved to sit next to you two. “Easy question as a warm up baby, which character and me share the same last name?” He questioned, his breath fanning over your neck, goosebumps raising on your skin as Stu’s fingers twiddled with the hem of your shirt. “Sam…Sam Loomis…” you spoke out, looking to your side before Billy turned your head back to the tv, “eyes on the movie, baby,” he hummed, smirking as you squirmed as Stu lifted up your shirt.

“Another one, baby,” Billy whispered into your ear, it had been another half hour since they started their little game. Tears streaked down your cheeks, your skin was blushed and already bruising from their marks being left on you, and you were shaking and squirming in Stu’s lap. “Please Billy, please, Stu,” you whined out their names, trying to get away from the pleasure as they chuckled at your state. “One last question sweetheart,” Billy promised you, swiping his tongue over his lips as he looked over your exposed body. “How many different times did they film the shower scene?” He asked, his hands groping your breasts as Stu’s fingers pumped into you. “What?” You questioned as Stu smirked against your neck. “How many different takes did they have for the shower scene baby? Come on, it’s easy,” Stu said as you whined, a loud moan leaving your lips as Stu played with your clit. “90! It- It’s 90!” You exclaimed, letting out a cry when they stopped their touches. Billy tsked, shaking his head, “you were so close baby,” he said as you whined. “78 shots, all for those famous 45 seconds,” Billy hummed, smiling and kissing you before Stu pulled you away for his own kiss. “Please…please, I wanna cum…” you begged, giving them both puppy dog eyes. Stu visibly melted, now looking to Billy with the same eyes, knowing both of you might get in trouble if he didn’t get his permission. “I’m dating two needy fucks, aren’t I?” He sighed, giving you another kiss before reaching over to Stu, whispering into his ear before giving a kiss to his cheek. “You’ll cum, but only if you let both of us cum first,” Billy said to you, you nodding your head quickly. “Since I got you to myself last time, why don’t you use that pretty mouth on me while Stu plays with that pretty cunt of yours,” he said as he moved back, unzipping his jeans and pulling them down along with his underwear to his mid thigh. You moved, getting onto your hands and knees on the cushions as you crawled slightly to Billy, opening your mouth and licking his tip. A groan left his lips at the touch, his hand snaking into your hair as Stu got to work with stretching you out.

It wasn’t hard, having already been fingering you relentlessly during their game, using the slick that you were leaking to help lube you up even more. You took Billy into your mouth, holding the base of his cock with one hand while your other held your body up. Moans left your lips and vibrated through his cock as Stu played with you, little whimpers and whines helping aid to Billy’s pleasure as Stu took his fingers away. You could see through your fluttered eyelids that Billy’s head had tilted up to match Stu’s gaze, finding out why when you felt Stu push against your entrance. “So pretty f’me baby, so fucking wet,” Stu groaned as he pushed in, making you moan as your walls sucked him in further.

“God, you’re fucking sucking me in, doll,” he moaned, taking his time thrusting into you to allow you to adjust. But with the two boys who had been worked up for nearly an hour now, they were quick to use you for their release. It felt like four seconds before they began to thrust into you from both ends, you could tell they were trying to match their speed to make you delirious. You enjoyed times like these with them, when their pleasure was focused on, not that they didn’t pay attention to you, but it made your head spin when they used you freely. Stu reached one hand down between your body and the couch, circling around your clit, making you moan and arch your back in pleasure. Billy gripped your hair harder, fucking into your throat with grunts and groans leaving every other second. Stu was just as vocal, his thrusts getting sloppier with time. “Be a good girl and open that mouth wider for me, little bunny,” Billy said as he pulled out, you looked up to him with a fucked out look as you held your mouth open, feeling your sanity being ripped from you as Stu thrusted even harder into you. Billy moaned out your name as he pumped himself, cumming into your mouth and partially across your face. Stu meanwhile had one hand bruising your waist with his grip while the other played with your clit, making you moan and push against him. Stu came and slowed down his thrusts slowly, you whimpering and moaning out as his hand didn’t stop pleasuring you. “Cum for us baby, you want to be good, don’t you?” Billy asked, holding your chin up to look at him as you gave a weak nod, your moans getting more high pitched before finally climaxing, crying out as Stu helped you through your high.

“You know, I’m still kinda sad I was on your kill list,” you mumbled, cuddled between your two boyfriends on the bed, all ready to go to sleep now hours after their game. “hey, you know that was just the plan until we found you” “and before we found out you had the hots for ghostface,” Stu added after Billy, making you smile and shake your head. “whatever dorks, just go to bed already, gotta wake up early for that gale interview,” you said, smiling as you gave them both a kiss.

[phoward89]

Masterlist

WARNING ⚠️: Coryo is his own warning in and of himself. Delusional!Coryo, Soft!Dark!Coryo, Soft!Dom!Coryo, Reader has some survival instincts, Reader knows keeping Coryo happy keeps her alive and well, cussing, possession, obsession, slight manipulation, smut, fingering- f receiving, p in v, creampie, breeding kink, praise kink, marriage, Sejanus thinks both Coryo & Reader are Delulu

Chapter 6:

Private Snow and Private Plinth were on factory watch duty this afternoon. They're stuck on the loom floor of the Peacekeepers’ Uniform Factory, standing guard to make sure that none of the sweatshop workers takes an early break, skips off before the end of shift, or to prevent any ruckus from starting and spreading. They both hated factory watch duty, but right now Coriolanus loathed it because he was stuck overlooking that ratty whore who thought that she could just swoop on in, after abandoning you to die, and steal you away from him.

Ugh, Ashlie. How he hated her.

Stupid district whore.

And then Coriolanus couldn't help, but, to find it ironic that he only now got assigned watch duty in the uniform factory that you were once employed at (he takes care of you now so you're never working in this shithole again). That all the other times he was on watch duty with Sejanus they were always assigned to one of the fabric factories or fashion warehouses on the other side of the district.

Sejanus noticed how his best friend and brother in arms seemed to be extremely happy today. He's never seen the stoic blonde so overjoyed before; it was, quite frankly, concerning him.

But before Sejanus could ask why his best friend's in such a good mood, the platinum blonde turned to him with a smile so wide that it was a bit frightening. Coryo's voice, that was usually so elongated, seemed to be a light and airy baritone as he announced, “Sejanus, I need you to come home with me tomorrow night. Y/N and I’s getting married in the District 8 traditional style and need you to perform the ceremony.”

“What?” Sejanus blinked in disbelief. Did he just hear what he thought he heard? Just to clear the air, he asked, “You and Y/N’s having a handfasting tomorrow night and want me to conduct it?”

“Is a handfasting what the marriage ceremony’s called here in 8?” Coriolanus asked instead of saying yes or no.

Clearly, the platinum blonde peacekeeper doesn't have a firm grip on life in the districts despite shacking up with a district girl. Oh boy, Sejanus doesn't want to deal with this right now. And isn't Coryo supposed to be the level headed one between them?

Oh, yea…

That's right, when it comes to pretty district girls and love, all logic goes out the window where Coriolanus is concerned. He makes brash decisions and thinks with his wrong head.

The teddy bear of a man, cursed to wear peacekeeper denim fatigues for the next 2 decades, nodded. “Yes, Coryo. That's what it's called.”

“Then yes, we're having a handfasting tomorrow night after work; I’ll be bringing you home with me to make sure it's legal.”

“Um…” Sejanus bit the inside of his cheek, trying to think of the right thing to say to his friend about his upcoming wedding. Something he thinks Coriolanus is going into too quickly and blindly. “Coryo, brother, I know you love your girl, but don't you think that maybe this handfasting’s a bit rushed?”

Coryo narrowed his icy eyes at his comrade, making them look like hardened steel. “No, I don't see how it's rushed, Sej.” Was the tall blonde's sharp reply.

“It's just, I dunno, Coryo-” Sejanus sighed, shaking his head. “Just that you two haven't really been together that long.”

“We live together, Sejanus. We've been together long enough to make that commitment; to get married too.”

If Sejanus only knew that Coriolanus' remark of long enough really meant since your whipping, well, he'd be stroking out and probably trying to get his bestie some mental help.

“Privates in the Peacekeepers aren't allowed to marry until their 20 years are up.” Sejanus pointed out as a last ditch effort to get his best friend to rethink or even cancel his handfasting.

Sejanus thinks Coryo's moving too fast with you. He's just trying to look out for his friend. Having a girlfriend’s one thing, but a wife's different. Divorce is outlawed and banned in the country of Panem; Coryo and you will be stuck together forever. Sej just doesn't want his friend to have regrets later on about a hasty marriage.

“Good thing I’m not staying Private Snow for long then, isn't it?” Coriolanus asked rhetorically, only to follow it up with a confident, “After taking that Elite Officer's Exam I estimate that I'll be shipped out for training right after the New Year.”

“You can still bring her with you, Officers can have their girlfriends with them.”

How dare that district Plinth dog tell him not to marry you? Who the hell does he think he is, telling Coryo to just keep living with you as his girl. Coryo promised to take care of you, to get you out of the districts, and above all he swore to marry you.

Coriolanus knows that he's a slithering snake tongued liar to people, but not to you. Your relationship is built on honesty, an integrity that he shares with you and only you. So, when he promises you something it's with the intention of fulfilling it. And he's going to fulfill his oath to marry you, no matter if he has to hogtie Sejanus and drag him home to your apartment to do it.

“I'm bringing her with me as my wife, Sej. So just shut up and come perform my district 8 ceremony tomorrow night.”

“Too bad we're not in 2. All you'd have to do is just exchange gold coins.” The broad Bones, dark haired peacekeeper half-chuckled.

Looks like he's stuck performing his best friend's handfasting tomorrow whether he wants to or not.

“So, you'll do it? Marry us?” Coryo asked, looking hopeful as the sound of looms being operated loudly sounded out in the air.

Against Sejanus' better judgement, he gave his friend a tentative smile and said, “Yes, Coryo, I'll do it.”

It was the least Sejanus could do. After all, Coryo stood by him during the 10th Hunger Games when he was doing some radical things that could've gotten him- them- killed. Coryo didn't agree with everything that Sej did, but he still stood by his side. They're best friends, brothers, and it's time for Sejanus to return the favor. He'll stand by the platinum peacekeeper’s side, as a brother should, even if he doesn't agree with him.

The food’s on the stove, done and waiting for Coryo to come home. You know that he's at the market, buying you some blue material to make your wedding dress with, so you're not concerned that he's not home at his usual time. Between work and the market, you imagine that his day’s a bit busy.

And you can always reheat the food real quick if it's cold when he does get home. You don't mind. You're just happy to have enough food in the house to be able to cook meals. Real meals, not some slop from stale oats or something.

You're grateful for Coryo and how he takes care of you despite the fact that he's the reason you still have at least a couple more weeks to heal from your whipping. At least a good thing came out of that bad, scary experience. You met Coryo and he, for some reason beyond your comprehension, decided to undertake your caretaking. He decided to make you his girl.

And tomorrow night he'll make you his wife.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open followed by heavy bootsteps entering the one-room apartment. You turn your attention from the book you're reading and onto the tall blonde that just walked thru the door. You smile, seeing that he has a paper bag in his hand.

You get up to greet him by the door as he closes it. “So, you got the blue material.” You state, not ask, as you reach his side.

“Yea.” Coryo nodded, handing you over the paper bag. “I also got us a long, thick red ribbon for the handfasting.” He added in, taking off his coat and hanging it up. “Sejanus says that the ceremony's called a handfasting-” Your fiance began, taking off his boots, only for you to interrupt him with a one word question.

“Red?” You ask with a quirked brow.

“It's my favorite color.” Coryo explained before gesturing to the bag and urging, “Open it, baby, and see what I got you for your dress.”

The platinum blonde wore a proud smile on his face as you obliged him. First, you took the red ribbon out of the bag. It was blood red.

Oh boy…

Still clutching the ribbon, you took out a few yards of folded up material. It was simple and made out of cotton, but the shade was beautiful. It was cerulean and it matches Coryo's icy eyes perfectly. It was literally the same shade of blue as his eyes. The material enchanted you in a way.

“Do you like it?” Coryo asked, placing a hand on your shoulder and tilting his head slightly.

He prayed that you liked it. Coryo felt that the other blue fabrics in the cheap market stall he went to were either too dark or drap for you. He wanted his wife to have the best. To have a beautiful blue fabric for her dress.

You only get married once; he thinks you deserve the best despite the ceremony being district.

Nodding, you weakly smile, “It matches your eyes.”

“Yea?” He lightly chuckles. Honestly, he didn't even notice that the material’s the same blue as his eyes. But now he knows it is; he assumes you like it too.

“Yea.” You confirm with a nod. “Putting the material and ribbon back into the bag, you give him a hug. “Thank you, I love it.” You smile into his chest.

All Coryo can do is wrap an arm around you and caress your hair softly with his long fingers. “I have my parents' wedding rings in my bag, would you mind exchanging them before our hand binding?” He asked, hopeful that you'd say yes.

Lifting your head up, your eyes met his cerulean blue ones, as you told him, “I'd be honored to wear your mother's ring, Coryo, but you're not an officer yet; you're not allowed to wear a ring.”

“I'll wear it around my chain with my dog tags til I pass my exam.”

“Okay.”

Threading his fingers into your hair, he sadly smiles, “I have a few family photos in my bag too. Perhaps we can put them up?”

“Of course, Coryo.” You smile, assuring him that you're fine with him decorating your meager one-room apartment with his family photos.

In fact you're more than fine with it. Him wanting to display his pictures of loved ones makes him human. Not just a mindless, Capitol born and bred peacekeeper that you're stuck with, but an actual human capable of feelings.

Capable of love, despite his condescending attitude at times.

You worked all day Thursday sewing a simple dress. You weren't a professional seamstress by any means, but you've been living in 8 long enough to pick up a thing or two. You could sew good enough to get by. You could also make simple patterns for simple dresses.

The only thing that was a pain in the ass was the fact that you had to sew your dress by hand. Thank the gods that Coryo had bought you light blue thread to match the material for your dress because the only blue thread you had in your sewing kit was navy.

Also, you noticed that your red thread was almost out, that it was wrapped thinly around the bobbin. You have an idea as to why it's nearly gone. You think that Coryo used it to stitch up the deep lacerations on your back.

He did tell you last night that red's his favorite color.

You spent practically all day huddled over your kitchen table, sewing your cerulean dress by hand. Since it was winter the sleeves were long and your skirt was knee length. It was a simple design, but when the dress was done you felt proud of it. You just hope that Coryo likes it.

You had enough scrap material left over to make a hairbow with. You decided that you're going to pull your hair back with a big, blue bow for your wedding. Yes, it's just going to be a very simple District 8 handfasting and reception dinner, but you still want to look pretty.

It's only natural. Every girl wants to look pretty on their wedding day.

So, after finishing both your dress and hair bow, you cook up a couple of dishes and bake an apple pie for dessert. You finished cooking with just enough time to get dressed before the groom and the best man arrive home.

You're standing in front of the family photos that Coryo set up on the bedside table last night. You can't help, but to think that he was a cute little boy with his curls as you stare at the family picture of him, his mom, and his dad. Coryo looks just like his father, General Crassus Snow, except that his father's eyes seemed cold and stern while Coryo's eyes were more mischievous. Or at least they were in your option.

His mother, Demeter, was very pretty. In the photo of Demeter holding a baby Coryo in a rose garden, you could see that he had inherited her smile. It was the only thing he inherited from her, looks wise. And in the picture his mother was wearing the orange scarf that he had given you. The scarf that matches your sweater perfectly.

There was a picture of his Grandma’am sitting regally amongst some roses and a picture of a young blonde girl that you knew had to be his cousin, Tigris. She definitely had the prominent Snow noses, but a tender softhearted smile.

After seeing a picture of Tigris, you're shocked that she lied to Coryo about something so important. You also feel bad for Grandma'am, she seems like such a high class lady and to lose everything and end up in hospice due to not having the will to love's horrible.

And on the table, in front of all the small framed photographs, was the wedding rings that belonged to Coryo's parents. One band was a simple gold one while the other was gold with a radiant square cut diamond. The diamond wasn't too big, but it wasn't too small either. It was just right and gave off a timeless, classic style.

“Baby, we're home.” You hear Coryo call out mixed with the sound of the door opening.

Sejanus followed his best friend into the apartment, secretly dreading having to marry you and Coryo. But he couldn't help, but smile whenever his friend gasped up on seeing you in your simple blue wedding dress and matching hair bow. It was clear to him that Coryo was in love just by how his face lit up at the sight of you.

“Darling, you look so beautiful.” Your soon to be husband declared while joining you by the bedside table.

“Thank you, honey.” You responded, feeling elated that he likes your outfit.

“Honey?” He asked, a brow raised in amusement.

“It just slipped out.” You sheepishly replied.

“It's fine; I'll let it slide, Mrs. Snow.” Coryo told you, his voice a slight bit husky, as he strokes your cheek softly with his calloused thumb.

Clearing his throat, because the sexual tension was so thick it could be cut with a butter knife and was making him feel uncomfortable, Sejanus asked, “Um, Coryo, do you want to start the ceremony?”

“Yea, just stand over there and we'll join you.” The platinum peacekeeper told his comrade, pointing to the spot he wanted him in.

Sejanus just nodded and went to stand where Coriolanus wanted him to. Coryo grabbed the rings and the red ribbon off the bedside table before escorting you over to Sej, the makeshift officiant for the wedding.

“We're going to exchange rings, like in the Capitol, then you can bind our hands.” Coryo told his dark haired friend while handing him over the ribbon for the hand binding.

Of course, Coriolanus Snow had to implement some kind of Capitol tradition in a district ceremony. Sejanus wouldn't expect anything less from his friend.

“Okay.” Nodded the aspiring medic with a heart of gold. Hey, what else was he supposed to do? If Coryo wanted to exchange rings then so be it.

Coryo handed you over his father's ring, now his, and kept his mother's ring, now yours. He just smiled and held the ring to your fingertip, causing you to do the same. Silently, you both slide the rings on each other's fingers before holding hands.

“I'm from District 2 and was raised in the Capitol for the past decade, so I'm not too well versed in handfasting.” Sejanus tells you while starting to wrap the long red ribbon around you and Coryo's entwined hands.

Looking over at Sejanus, you tell him, “I'm originally from 12, so all I know about this ceremony is what I've heard.”

“They do a toasting where she's from, but we don't have a fireplace so we had to settle with the handfasting.” Coryo added in, shrugging at his friend.

“Ah.” Sejanus slowly nodded as alarm bells went off in his head. Of course you're from 12. It seems like Coryo has a type and it's basically pretty girl from District 12. Now, he can't help, but worry that his platinum blonde friend is going full steam ahead with you so quickly because of your district of origin.

“You can exchange your words now.” Sejanus prompts, knowing that words are said in a handfasting once the ribbon is wrapped around the clasped hands of the couple.

“You first, Y/N.” Coryo smiles, only to quickly add in, “Women always say their vows first in the Capitol.”

Sejanus wanted to cringe. Coriolanus just has to bring up Capitol wedding traditions, again. For marrying a district girl he's really trying to incorporate as many Capitol things as he can. Or at least Sejanus thinks so.

It bothered Sejanus more than it did you. Coryo talking about Capitol wedding traditions. You didn't mind, he was from there after all.

“Okay.” You nodded before smiling and telling your husband a quote from the tragic Pre-Panem love story he's been reading to you- Wuthering Heights.

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

You're bound to him forever now, so you decided to tell him a book quote to express that.

Coryo’a grin spread wide across his face. He looked a bit manic, a result of your words. Oh, how hearing you say that your souls are the same just made his heart burst.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

You're his now and will be forever. You're not just his wife, but his most treasured possession now. Being your husband, knowing that you're at his complete mercy, makes him feel all powerful.

Sejanus can't help, but feel like you're as delusional as Coriolanus right now after hearing the Emily Bronte quote you recited. Oh, Sejanus has read the book it's from and he thinks there's nothing romantic about the main and tragic relationship. God, he hopes your relationship with Coryo isn’t marked by tragedy, obsession, and extreme codependency like the haunting relationship between Cathy and Heathcliff was.

Coryo’s icy blue eyes are looking into yours intensely as he recites the standard Capitol vows of, “I promise to love and support you, to take you under my protection; to provide for the children that I will gift upon you. I promise to love you; to spend the rest of my days with you.”

You couldn't help, but swoon at the Capitol vows. To you, they sound so romantic.

But to Sejanus they sound like honeyed words used to shackle couples that grow old together in either indifference or hate.

“Well, that's it then. Coryo, Y/N, you're now married.” Sejanus announced before quickly unwrapping the ribbon from your hands.

Once your hands are free, Coryo grabs your face gently in his large hands and presses a sweet kiss to your lips to seal the marriage bond, like they do in the Capitol.

It's official, you're Mr. And Mrs. Snow now.

After the ceremony, Sejanus ate dinner with you and your new husband. Coryo even arranged for Sejanus to take you Christmas shopping on Monday while he's occupied taking his Elite Officer's Examine, which he's positive that he'll pass. The conversation during dinner was nice. You like Sejanus and you're glad that Coryo has him as a friend. He's a nice guy, very down to earth and friendly.

After dinner, Sejanus said his goodbyes to you and Coryo and left. Traditionally, the folks of District 8 stay for hours after the handfasting ceremony, but you reckon that Sejanus left after the pie was served because he needed to head back to base. Unlike your husband, Private Plinth actually sleeps in his bunk at the barracks.

You had already put up the leftovers and you're washing the last dish whenever Coryo comes up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. His nose nuzzles your neck and he presses a kiss on the sweet spot below your ear. “I’m ready to fuck you, Mrs. Snow; make you mine in every sense of the word.”

“How’re we supposed to do that, Coryo? My back needs at least a couple more weeks to fully heal.” You ask, placing the dish onto the drying rack with the others.

“Snow lands on top.” He smirks into your neck. Turning you around after you unplugged the drain, he told you, “You'll have to ride my cock til your back’s healed.”

*Oh.” You squeaked, eyes slightly wide.

“Don't be nervous, baby. I'll guide you thru it.”

“Okay.” You simply nod, since you didn't really know what else to do.

You know that you're going to have to fuck him. It's a given now that you're married. You're honestly surprised that he didn't make you ride his cock earlier, before you even got married.

“I can always take you behind, doggy style too.” Your platinum blonde husband remarked, causing you to just nod.

Yea, there was that too. But then he'd be staring at your back. Your stitched up, scarred up back, during the do.

Yea…

You're not sure how you feel about that.

Caressing your cheek in his large calloused hand, he lightly smiled. “But I think for the first few times it'd be nice to look at each other's faces. Yea?”

“Yea.” You softly agree.

He presses a kiss full of heated want on your lips only to pull away and take your hand. “Come on, let's go to bed.” Coryo tells you while leading you over to your bed.

To the point of no return.

Coriolanus stops you right in front of the bed, only to cup your cheeks in his hands and bend his head down to kiss you with every fiber of his being. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in closer while syncing your lips with his; kissing him back with as much vigor as he's shown you.

Kissing Coryo was an experience in and of itself. His kisses could be chaste and innocent, but then they could be fiery and passionate: full of need and hot blooded desire.

The kisses you're sharing right now are the latter. They're passionate and fiery, full of an unquenchable desire. Coryo's mouth literally slots over yours, noses bumping together, as his tongue slips into your mouth with such urgency. An urgency that can only be attributed to desire and need. To passion and lust.

You let out a moan at the feeling of his tongue exploring your mouth. Your own tongue finds its way into his mouth, exotically dancing with his. Coryo's fingers entangle in your hair while his other hand holds your jaw in a vice grip. Your hands are clutching at the back of his neck, trying to anchor yourself as you continue to kiss him passionately.

Coryo pulls away, leaving you both breathless and panting. He leans his forehead against yours, only to whisper, “Is this real, Mrs. Y/N Snow? The way you feel about me? It's real for me and I-I was just wondering if it's real for you too.”

The vulnerability in his cerulean blue eyes took you aback. You've never seen him like this before. You're so used to Coryo being condescending and cunning, sweet, but in a reserved way.

You've never seen him vulnerable before. And that sight makes you realize that there's more to your husband than what meets the eye. That deep down, he's just an orphan boy that wants to be loved. And you understand that wholeheartedly since you're an orphan girl that wants the same thing.

To be loved.

Unwinding a hand from his neck and softly stroking his cheek with it, you tell him, “It's real for me too, husband.” Giving him a small smile, you carry on with, “We’re all each other's got, Coryo. And I'm grateful for you.” You notice that your words are having a calming effect on him, which is good. “I wouldn't have married you if I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with you.” You assure him, bringing your other hand up to his cheek.

Honestly, you married him so that you'll have stability. So you'll be able to always have a roof over your head and food in your belly. Yes, you like him, but the marriage is so that you're not on your own struggling to get by.

Coryo's determined to take care of you; to make up for ratting you out and getting you whipped. He wants to get you out of 8; who are you to stop him?

You married him out of self preservation, but you honestly do like him. He's a very handsome man- unlike any you've ever met, and you enjoy his company. If he's delusional to think that you're in love then so be it. At least you'll be able to sleep in a warm bed with a full belly every night.

Your answer was exactly what Coriolanus needed to hear. His icy eyes light up and he kissed you once more with power and passion. A promise of things to come.

Coryo's sitting on the edge of the bed and you're straddling him. He's in nothing, but his white boxers, while you're naked. He's got a hand on your hip, balancing you, while the other's between your legs. Two of his fingers are shoved deep inside your cunt as he fucks you furiously with them. His thumb rubs quick, sloppy circles over your swollen clit, as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“You're close, baby. You're gonna cum soon.” He knowingly states, not asks, as he picks up his pace.

“Coryo…please…” You whine, feeling as if you're going to explode and see stars any minute by how hard, fast, and deep he's fingering you. Hell, you never knew that being fingered could feel like this. But yet again, his fingers are much longer than yours…

His fingers hit the spongy spot deep inside of you, over and over again, making your hips back against his as you chase your high.

“That's it, baby. That's it, ride my fingers. Good girl, just like that.” Coryo cooed praises into your ear as your head drops to his shoulder while you ride his fingers, chasing after your orgasm that you're oh so desperate to feel.

His hand on your hip helps guide you as you quickly roll your hips forward and back, riding his fingers, as little moans and mewls escape your lips. They're mostly muffled by his shoulder, since you're resting your head in it. But Coryo can still hear a few. The few noises you make that echo in the room mingle with the loud, lewd, wet squelching sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your cunt.

Suddenly, your clawing at your husband's back and canting your hips quickly as your orgasm fastly approaches. “Coryo…I'm close.” You mutter out into his shoulder.

“Cum for me, Y/N. Be a good girl and cum right now, baby.” Coryo ordered, his voice hot and thick with lust, as he thumb pressed hard against your clit while he pounds your pussy relentlessly with his long fingers.

And you do. You cum hard around his fingers, moaning out his name like a prayer. Coryo helps guide your hips as you ride out your high on his fingers.

When your body goes slack, he pulls his hand out from between your legs. “Look, darling.” Coryo orders while spreading his fingers apart, causing your juices to create a web between them.

You feels your cheeks heat up as you look at your husband's hand, the one that had just been between your legs. You weren't aware that you let out that many juices when you came. Seeing them webbed and stringing against your husband's fingers…well…

And when your husband curled his fingers into a fist, so only his wet ones were standing upright, and smelled the two wet fingers- causing his eyes to flutter shut as he declared in a shaky exhale, “Your cunt smells so good, darling.”, You nearly died of arousal.

Oh boy, did that turn you for some ungodly reason.

And when he stuck his fingers in his mouth, sucking your juices clean off of them…oh yea…you felt yourself grow wetter. You felt your core ache for his cock.

Coryo pulls his fingers out of his mouth with a wet pop, only to help you off of him while saying, “I'm going to take off my boxers and lay down in the bed, okay?”

“Okay.” You simply nod, watching as your husband stands up and slides down his boxers.

You know he has a big cock by the large bulge that was in his boxers, but when you see his cock rise to full attention and slap up against his stomach, you can't help but to look at it in awe. It was long, at least 8 inches, and very girthy too. Damn, even his balls are big. Like everything on Coryo's big.

You guess what they say about y'all men with big hands, big feet, and big noses is true. Cause right now, you're looking at the living proof that the saying isn't a myth.

It's true. Very, very, true.

Tall men with big hands, feet, and noses are blessed with big cocks.

“Like what you see, Mrs. Snow?” Coryo asks with a cocky, lopsided grin as he closes the distance between you after kicking his boxers to the side once he stepped out of them.

“Yes, I suppose so, since it's the only cock I've ever seen.” You tell him, locking your eyes with his icy blue ones.

Taking your hand and bringing it to his cock, which has veins running along it with an angry red head that's leaking pearly drops of precum, he tells you, “You can touch me, you know.”

“Is there a certain way you like to be touched?” You wonder.

You don't know how experienced Coryo is and you really don't care. He's your husband now, so any and all experience he has is just going to make you feel good. But you lack experience. So, of course you want to know what your husband likes, it's only natural to ask.

The platinum blonde gives you a thin smile, one that's barely holding back how horny he is, and tells you, “Use your thumb to gather my precum and spread it around my cock before pumping it up and down. You can also swipe the slit on my head too.”

“Okay.” You nod before doing as you're told.

“There ya go, baby. That's it, you got it.” Coryo praised, lust blowing his pupils black, as he watched you slowly, but surely jack him off.

After a few minutes, Coriolanus’ breath began to hitch. He placed a hand on yours to stop you, all the while saying, “I think it's time I get in bed and you get on top of me.”

You just nod, watching as your husband fluffs the pillows and lays down comfortably on his back.

“Come here, baby.” He motioned with an outstretched hand.

You get into the bed and go over to him, straddling his hips. You're hovering over his hard cock, balancing yourself by resting your hands on Coryo's chest. One of his hands went to your hip while the other grabbed his cock, teasing you by rubbing his tip along your slit; bumping into your clit once or twice.

“You ready, darling?” Coryo asked, locking eyes with you.

“Yes.” You nod. After how good of a job he did warming you up, you'd be a fool not to be ready.

“Just sink down slowly; take your time til you bottom out.” He instructed, rubbing soothing and supportive circles in your hip bone.

Nodding, you listened to your husband and slowly sank down on his cock. You felt a burning sensation tearing you apart as his cockhead parted your petals and entered your virgin cunt. It wasn't painful per say, just uncomfortable. The burning sensation at the stretch his cock made to your tight walls had you biting your lip and letting out little whimpers.

“I know, baby. I know, it's a big stretch.” Coryo cooed, the corners of his mouth turned up. He took the hand that was on the base of his cock (feeling that you're doing a good enough job guiding yourself down on it that he doesn't need to hold it anymore) and cupped your cheek. “You're doing such a good job, baby.” Coryo softly ran the pad of his calloused thumb against the apple of your cheek. “Just a lil bit more and I'll be picking your cherry, my sweet girl.” Your husband assured you, his baritone honeyed and lustful.

You've heard that getting your cherry popped hurts like hell, or at least that's what the girls said at school. Hell, even your old friends Lil and Lucy Gray back on your old street in the Seam said it hurt like no other. So you're sure that it's going to be the worst pain in your life.

But your husband's assuring words, sweetly melodic but ardent, put you at ease. His simple action of soothingly stroking your cheekbone with his thumb eased your nerves; your fears as well. Who would've known that Coryo, a tall, imposing peacekeeper with a platinum buzz cut and mischievous baby blues could be so soft and gentle, so reassuring and understanding.

In that moment you, without a doubt, knew that you made the right choice in marrying Coryo. How many other young men would be patient enough with you to let you go at your own pace during your first time? Not many, or at least not the type of men that your old friends had would be patient.

You really hit the jackpot when you got with your peacekeeper. Yes, you know that the way ya'll got together wasn't ideal, but he's truly been nothing, but amazing since he brought you home badly whipped, bleeding profusely, and nearly unconscious with pain. Private Snow, soon to be Elite Officer Snow (if all goes according to plan and he passes his exams), might be a condescending asshole at times, but he's also a caring, loveable man at others. And right now he's a tenderhearted lover.

Your breath hitches as you feel Coriolanus' cockhead breach your barrier; breaking your hymen and taking your virginity. Your nails scratch at his chest and you bite your lip in reaction to the stinging sensation that you feel throbbing in your pussy.

“Are you alright, Y/N? Did I hurt you?” Your husband asks, looking up at you with genuine concern flashing in his icy eyes, as you bottom out on top of him.

“I'm not hurt, Coryo. It just stings a lil bit, that's all.” You honestly tell him, not wanting him to worry.

“You just just cockwarm me til you feel comfortable to move, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod, a tiny smile stretching your lips.

“Come ‘ere, baby.” Coryo instructs, sliding his hand down your cheek and down to your neck only to guide your face down towards his. As your lips ghosts over each other's, he commands in a husky tone, “Kiss me while you sit on my cock.”

And who are you to turn down your husband's request when his plush lips look oh so kissable. You quite enjoy kissing him. It's a sensation that you'll never grow tired of.

Your hands slide up Coryo's toned chest, only to hold onto his shoulders for leverage, as your lips meet his in a kiss. A kiss that quickly turned passionate and sloppy. Your tongues danced exotically as your body grew accustomed to his large cock stretching out your walls and filling you up all the way to your womb. A breathy moan fell from your lips as your kiss broke apart, so the two of you could catch some air.

Coryo's lips we're mere inches from yours as he asked, “Think you're ready to start moving, my darling rose?”

“Yea,” You nod, “I'm ready.”

“Remember how you rode my fingers? Just do that, alright?”

“Alright.” You parroted before slowly and experimentally rising and falling down onto your husband's cock; causing him to let out a low moan of approval.

It didn't take long for you to find a comfortable rhythm. And before long, you're riding your husband with the desperate need to cum, arms wrapped around his neck as he's sitting up, sucking on one of your nipples while squeezing and grabbing at your tits with the need of a hungry, starving madman.

“Fuck! Coryo…” You loudly moan as his teeth scrape again your pebbled nipple, sending pleasure shooting straight to your core, before he lifts his head and attaches his kiss bruised lips to your neglected nipple. As his lips start sucking your other nipples, his thumb soothingly rubs over the one that he just bit, making your cunt grow even wetter.

“Oh gods, Coryo, I'm so close again.” You choke out on a high pitched moan, feeling his cock dive deep inside of your cunt and kiss your cervix as you bounce down particularly fast on him.

Your husband lets your nipple fall from his mouth with a loud, wet pop and he stops feeling up your boobs. One of his hands grabs your ass while the other goes slightly behind him, resting on the bed to give him leverage, as he sits up a bit straighter. Bending his knees slightly so that his feet are flat on the bed, he orders you to, “Hold onto my neck and wrap your legs around my waist. I'm gonna finish us off.”

“Okay.” You smile before doing as your told.

Not a second later, Coryo's fingers are digging into your ass cheek while his hips are wildly bucking up; causing his cock to piston deep inside of you. So deep that you're seeing stars.

“Coryo…I think I'm gonna cum.” You tell him, lips hovering close to his, as you feel the knot in your lower belly about to come undone.

“I'm gonna cum right after ya, baby.” He groaned, snapping his hips even faster. “Fuck, I'm gonna fill you up with my seed; knock you up tonight, babygirl.” Coryo grunted thru clenched teeth as his cock pounded your tight pussy with wild abandon. "I swear, you're gonna look so beautiful all round with my child."

Were you ready to be a mom? Who knows, who cares. You'll deal with it when the time comes. All you know is that your husband's fucking you so good and you're about to cum on his gigantic cock any second now.

“Coryo…” You mewl while your cunt flutters around his cock. The dam of pleasure’s about to burst and all you can think about is how badly you want to kiss your husband.

So…

You unwrap one of your hands from around his neck and grab a hold of the chain around his neck. The one that his dog tags are one. The same dog tags that are bouncing back and forth between both of your chests. Using the chain, you pull him a few inches towards you until your lips meet his for a kiss. A kiss that's desperate. An open mouth kiss that's filthy and full of both tongue and spit swapping as you cum hard around his cock.

Coryo's icy eyes literally roll into the back of his head as he feels your tight cunt spasm around his cock and soak his cock and thigh as you cum. Fuck, you're a squirter and that turns him on. It turns him on so much that the next time he bucks up he's shooting his load of hot, thick ropes up cum deep up into your womb.

He continues to slowly rock his hips up and down to ride out your highs. Your lips are no longer engaged in a dirty open mouthed kiss. Instead, your foreheads are resting on each other as you just get lost gazing into each other's eyes- looking into the windows of each other's souls.

Souls that are truly so similar considering you both are orphans with a self preservation streak.

After a little while, he stops moving and lays flat down on his back. He adjusts your legs so that you can comfortably lay down on him. He even places the blanket on top of you two so that you'll be warm.

“Shouldn't I get off of you?” You ask, referring to his cock still being stuffed inside of your cunt.

“No.” Coryo shakes his head against his pillow. “Don’t worry about it, babe. My cock’ll slip out once it softens.” He assures you with a satisfied smirk while tucking a strand of sweaty hair behind your ear. “You were amazing, Mrs. Y/N Snow.”

“Thank you, Elite Officer Snow. I have an amazing husband for a teacher.” You playfully smile back, tracing patterns on his toned chest.

“Remind me to thank that amazing husband of yours for teaching you how to ride cock like a pro.” Coryo teasingly chuckled, earning him a playful smack in the arm from you.

Then, you decided to bring up a serious topic. One that was tied to some dirty talk your husband said while fucking.

Looking up at him with big, curious eyes, you seriously ask, “Coryo, do you really want kids?”

“Yes, Y/N, I really want to have kids with you.” Your husband answered, only to follow it up with a question of his own. “Don't you want them, my darling rose.”

“I never really thought about it, but one day I'd like to be a mom.”

“Babies come when they come, darling.” Your platinum peacekeeper tell you so casually that it's as.of he's telling you the weather forecast.

“I know.” You simply tell him. Then, worry crosses your features as you seriously ask, “Since they'd be born in the districts would they be eligible for the game's lottery?”

“No.” Coryo's quick to assure you with a shake of his head. His large hand comforts you by soothingly rubbing your arm up and down. “Officer’s children are born on a Capitol run base in the hospital and live on base or base approved housing. They're registered as Capitol citizens at birth; they're parents no matter their origin of birth are considered Capitol as well.”

You let out a loud, incredulous laugh, only to tell your husband, “So I fucking stood in line 7-fucking-years for the reaping when I didn't have to all because my brother refused to hand over my papers when it was time for game registration.”

“What?” Coryo asked, his voice full of confusion, as he stared at you slack jawed.

“Close your mouth, honey. You'll catch flies with it open like that.” You tease Coryo, snapping his jaw shit with your fingers. Knowing you have to tell him the truth, the very same truth you learned right after your brother died, you sighed and explained, “After my brother died we went thru everything in the house to see what we wanted to keep, sell, and give away. Hidden in the end table by his sitting chair was an old picture of my parents and my birth certificate.”

You had to pause to collect yourself. You never planned on revealing this, but it seems like gate has other plans. Coryo just looked at you with support flashing in his eyes while gently squeezing your hand. He wasn't dumb, he was putting the pieces together fairly quickly. But he wanted to hear you say what he's thinking, to make sure that it's right.

When you feel ready to continue, you tell your husband, “I discovered that I was born on PK Base D-12 to a Colonel Javanis Halvir and a Helenium Halvir.” Shaking your head, you bitterly spat out, “I even have a Capitol name too; it's actually a longer version of the name my brother grew up calling me.”

“So you're half Capitolite then or were both your parents-” Coryo began to ask only for you to abruptly cut him off with, “Half. My father was a Capitolite and my mother was from District 12; Rein was my half-brother from her first marriage, but my dad must've adopted him since he used the Halvir name.”

“Do you want me to write the Capitol about this? I know some people that could look into your family, see if perhaps you have an inheritance tied up in probate or any relatives still alive?”

“You don't have to do that, Coryo.” You softly decline. Honestly, you never considered finding your long lost family. Plus it's not like they were looking for you either.

But Coryo wanted to inquire about your family, that Halvirs. If they had money or if you had an inheritance then as your husband he's legally bound to be the recipient of it. And Lord knows how much Coriolanus Snow craves money, power, and glory. How he wants to get back to the Capitol, with you and any children you have in tow, to become the youngest president in Panem's history.

But he can't tell you that, now can he?

No…

So, instead he tells you, “Y/N, baby, you're my wife and I love you. Let me use my Capitol contacts to help you find your family.” Giving you a slight pout and a pair of big cerulean blue puppy dog eyes, he adds in the magic word of, “Please.”

How can you say no to that? You can't. So, you tell him okay.

Coriolanus is overjoyed, but he doesn't let it show. Instead his baritone is calm and collective as he tells you that it's time to go to sleep. As you yawn and settle down on his chest, visions of a newfound rich family or a large inheritance sum are dancing around in his head, much like sugarplums dance around in children's heads on Christmas Eve.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[exhaslo]

Hi! I love your writing, especially what you wrote throughout Kinktober. I like to request something involving Miguel O’Hara.

So back on Day 30 of your Kinktober where you posted Villain!Miguel, it got me feeling things after reading the whole fic. Then a “What If” scenario came to mind: what if Spider!Fem!Reader was able to win the battle against Villain!Miguel and she would kidnap him this time to gather intel about Alchemax’s shady business practices (because she already knew the villainous Spider-Man is Miguel under the mask). While trying every way for Miguel to open up, but won’t budge unless he pleads a deal.

He’ll open up…if Spider!Fem!Reader has sex with him. Deal is sealed but the heroine warns the villain if he tries anything suspicious, he’ll receive more than pleasure.

- @club-danger-zone

Lissssssten, I read this at 3am when I woke up for work and been thinking about it ALLLLLLLL DAY!!!!!

Summary: Alternative Ending to Kinktober Day 30, Villain!Miguel x Hero!Reader

Original Click Here

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, corruption, dirty talk, p in v, restraints, rough sex, overstimulation, manipulation, wannabedom!reader

---------------------------------------------------------------

Everything happened so fast that you were still trying to process what had happened. You were responding to a new threat at Alchemax when it started. A new, strong and dangerous villain had appeared, but to your concerned surprise, it was none other than your psycho coworker, Miguel O'Hara.

Miguel was the son of Alchemax's own CEO, Tyler Stone. The proud and cruel son who shared his father's ideals. You had been Miguel's coworker for years and knew how crazy he could be. Miguel was obsessed with studying the genetic makeup of some of the heroes from the Golden Hero Age. Particularly, Spiderman.

Miguel tested on people without a care. One of his experiments ended up accidently biting you, turning you into the hero Spider-Woman. It was hard, but you had to keep your secret from the madman. Miguel was like a mad scientist. What was worse, was that he finally tested on himself. That new threat you were responding too was none other than him.

"Just treat him like any other villain!" You told yourself.

Honestly, you were not prepared. Despite knowing how Miguel was, you couldn't help but fall for the bad boy troupe. Miguel was just so good looking. If he wasn't so crazy, you'd probably had asked him out. Hell, you always folded whenever he asked you to do something for him.

"Alright. Let's get this started," You finally said as you entered the room where Miguel was.

Miguel raised his head, giving that cold stare he usually had. His eyes were a beautiful red shade compared to normal. You wanted to ask him why he tested on himself. You wanted too, but taking down Alchemax was far more important.

"Tell me everything you know about Alchemax."

Miguel watched you with amusement. He had been trying to get you in his clutches since you first appeared. This was as close as he was going to get. Miguel wanted you as a test subject. Miguel let you beat him so he could get close to you. Licking his lips, Miguel observed you in person. That suit was tight against your skin. If only he could just touch you. If only he could study your blood.

"Miguel, focus." You demanded. Miguel returned his attention to you. That mask that covered the top half of your face, "If you cooperate, I might let you off easy."

"You already know my name," Miguel hummed lowly, leaning back in his seat. The restraints holding him back, "I'm honored."

"We can work this out," You sighed softly, seeing that he was being unreasonable, "I'm sure-"

"I'll answer your questions if you answer mine." Miguel said with a cruel smirk.

You had to be someone he knew. He could sense it. Furrowing his brows, Miguel noticed that his sense of smell had become stronger. This was getting interesting.

"D-Depends on the questions." You told him, biting your lower lip.

Miguel's eyes sparkled. There was one person who would bite their lip whenever they got nervous. Miguel inhaled deeply as he felt excitement run through his veins. It seemed like he was going to get his experiment after all.

"Oh, (Y/N), you've been keeping this secret from me this whole time? I gotta say, I'm a little hurt." Miguel's tone was cruel as he watched you flinch.

"N-Now we're getting off topic. Alchemax has been-"

"(Y/N)," Miguel changed his tone into a sweeter one, knowing how to manipulate you, "Why don't I answer all your questions if you just do me one little thing."

"T-That's not my name, b-but what is it?" You stuttered.

Miguel noticed your scent change into something sweet. His pupils dilated as he felt something in him grow hungry. Yes, this was a good reaction. Miguel was going to play his game.

"I'll tell you everything if you have sex with me." He told you, his words dripping like honey.

"Se-" Oh, you were folding.

Your heart nearly stopped as you tried to come up with a proper response. You had only imagined a moment like this. The amount of nights you masterbated to the thought. Slowly approaching Miguel, you knew that this was a horrible idea. What hero would give in to a villain? What hero would willingly have sex with an enemy?

"F-Fine! But if you try anything, I'll make sure that you'll receive more than just...pleasure," You huffed.

Honestly, you were nervous. What the hell could you do to him if he tried to make a move? Not wanting to think about that, you just played along. You were going to be the dominator in this moment. Miguel was tied up to the chair.

"Would you take your mask off for me?"

"Don't push it."

You fixed your hair, getting on your knees to undo his feet restraints. Despite Miguel being evil, you still wanted him to be comfortable for this. Once you loosen the restraints a little, you proceeded to undo his pants. Your fingers trembled as you stared at his large erection. He had already gotten hard just from asking you!

Miguel watched you in amusement. You smelled so scared, yet so sweet. You slowly stroked his dick as you undid a small, hidden zipper from your suit. Miguel's smirk widen,

"A zipper?" He questioned with a low groan. You pressed his tip, biting your lower lip,

"Y-You try going to the bathroom with this on! I had to make adjustments!" You huffed.

Once you thought you were ready, you sat against Miguel's lap and tried to slid onto his dick. You whimpered, unable to do so. Miguel leaned his head into your neck, inhaling your neck. You gasped lowly as he licked your cheek. You could feel fangs. Miguel never had fangs. You tried to move away, but Miguel nibbled against your suit,

"It's never going to fit unless you let me help, carino (sweetheart)" Miguel groaned lowly. You whimpered as you decided to rub your hips against his dick,

"I-I'm taking control."

"I don't think you can," Miguel's tone turned cruel once more as he grazed his fangs against your suit, "You smell so sweet. All for me."

"Don't flatter yourself," You gasped lowly as you started to get into the pleasure, "T-This is just...for information."

"Sure, (Y/N). My little (Y/N), the super hero. The perfect test subject right in the palm of my hand."

"S-Stop...c-calling me that," You begged.

Every time Miguel said you name, it sent shivers down your spine. Once more, you tried to slid his cock inside you. You whined and cried out as you managed to fit the tip inside your tight pussy. He was too big and you were not prepped enough, but you had to try. If you let him go, who knows what he would do.

"Treat this like another battle, (Y'N). You can handle it. If not, I might have to fight back."

You yelped as Miguel thrusted his hips up ever so slightly. Your walls tighten around his tip, begging him to wait. You were supposed to take control. You had to take care of this. You could only whimper and cry as you finally fit him fully inside you.

"What a perfect fit. Aren't you a good little test subject." Miguel whispered in your ear as you held onto him, "Now start moving. You owe me for keeping this secret, (Y/N)."

"M-Miguel...I...I said..." You whined as you started to bounce against his cock, "A-Ah~ Hah~ I-I'm in...mhm...c-charge."

Each time you bounced against his dick, you felt your body jolt in pleasure. Drool nearly rolled down your mouth as you started to ride him faster. His dick hitting your cervix with each thrust. Fireworks went off in your brain as you felt a hot, tight knot about to explode.

"That's right, (Y/N), you were made just for me." Miguel used his teeth to pull your mask down. Your fucked out expression turned him on more, "This chemistry we share must be explored more!"

"M-Miguel~!" You cried out, shaking as you reached your orgasm. Miguel licked his lips as he kept moving his hips, thrusting inside you,

"I'll tell you everything you want to know, (Y/N), you just have to keep up your end of the deal. You will, won't you? Or do heroes lie?" He said with a devilish smirk.

"Y-Yes! I-I will!"

You moaned softly as you felt Miguel cum inside you. Your vision blurred slightly before you calmed down from your high. Gasping, you immediately fixed you mask and scooted off of his lap. You fixed yourself up and gave him a slight shock from one of your web shooters. Miguel hissed in pain,

"I-I told you I would punish you if you tried something!" You cried out, huffing your cheeks out. Miguel just chuckled,

"I'm a Villain, did you really expect me to play fair?"

You whined softly, but to your surprise, Miguel did share some information with you. He only gave you a little bit and told you that if you wanted more, you had to keep meeting him. You were hesitant at first, but you kept telling yourself what was the harm?

----------

"You've gotten used to this, huh, (Y/N)? Can't do anything without this villain's dick inside you?" Miguel whispered harshly as he pounded your pussy from behind. You held onto the wall, moaning loudly from pleasure,

"T-This is j-just f-for information-" You tried to say. Miguel just roared in laughter as he held your hips higher, slapping himself into you,

"Sure. Just admit that you can't do anything with me. I'm the villain who corrupted you."

"N-No, t-this....this is f-for ah~ w-wait...s'much..." You cried out as Miguel started to pinch your clit, "M-Miguel...I-I said-"

"That I can do what I want as long as I help you arrest my father. I'm doing a good deed here,"

Miguel just watched you break under him. The amount of orgasms he had drawn out of you this past week alone was an accomplishment. The amount of times you kept coming back to him for more 'information' was just delicious. This was a game he wanted you to believe that you were winning.

Giving you another load of his cum, Miguel watched in amusement as your body twitched for more. He pushed his fingers inside you, wanting to keep the cum inside. Miguel wanted to experiment with you more. With a lick of his lips, he leaned towards your ear,

"You know, after I help you arrest my father, you're still going to need information to take down other big bads." You whined, trying to move away from him,

"I-I will be the judge of that. Who's to say I won't have you arrested?" You warned, moving away to fix your zipper. Miguel just laughed in response,

"You would never."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gosh, I can't wait to write the Villain!Miguel series!!!

[denileisariver]

warnings: dick analysis!, explicit detail of male genitalia, multiple versions of batman ♡, the batman (2022), batman v. superman, batman: arkham knight, comic batman, justice league.

a/n: purely for shits and giggles. if you saw me accidentally post this, no you fucking didn't.

THE BATMAN (2022)

tbh i think he would have an average length. like 6 inches, uncut, not too thick but not skinny either. his dick is prettyyyy. like really fucking pretty. the tip of his cock is a soft pinkish color, darkening slightly when he's hard. the bottom of his tip would form a sort of 'y' shape. this man is pale and so is the shaft of his dick, about #f2dac9. he's not really veiny either, the skin soft and smooth.

as an incluse, he doesn't really have sex, if any at all. he probably masturbates the most out of all the versions of batman. because of this, i feel like his balls would be pretty full, but they're not super big and heavy either. they're definitely really sensitive from not being touched a lot. would hang a bit more on the higher side.

cums so much ♡. like hyperspermia type shit. his seed would probably be a really pigmented white, spurting out in thick ropes. when he cums, the tip of his cock turns a softer red from the blood rush.

he would probably prefer to be nice and tidy, even completely shaven occasionally. but he gets too obsessed with work, and forgets about it sometimes, leaving him with a cute happy trail. his pubic hair never gets really long at all before he's cutting it off.

BATMAN V. SUPERMAN

probably baised but he has a really fat cock. super thick and girthy, the stretch of it 100% hurts a bit during sex. i'd still put him around 6.7 inches, he definitely shows a lot though, so maybe even 7 inches. he's cut too, the tip of his cock would be more mushroom shaped. the base of it would be slightly hyperpigmented, but overall around #e3c2aa. not the most veiny either, but a long thick vein would protrude from it along the shaft.

his balls are big, i don't wanna hear any backtalk. as the divorced husband and without any robins left, he's a fucking loner. he probably still fucks a decent amount, but not as much as people think. his balls would hang more lower. they're not the most sensitive, but he'd appreciate getting them licked or even sucked while receiving head.

his cum would be on the more opaque side, more translucent, the pigment softer in color. he doesn't cum super large amounts, but it definitely isn't small amounts of it either. you probably wouldn't be seeing much of it anyways, since he'd prefer to cum inside any of your holes he can get.

he's more hairy, not really caring much anymore about shaving as he gets older. he's not crazily unkempt, but he would probably hold it off until the hair gets uncomfortable or even if you asked him to.

BATMAN: ARKHAM KNIGHT

he's fucking hung, i don't care what anybody says. easily 8 inches, also cut, the girth of it at the very least 3.5 inches. the tip of his cock might be more on the bigger side, the shape of it also more of a mushroom shape but more pointing upwards instead of round at the top, the bottom of the tip barely having a sort of short 'y' shape.

speaking of things pointing upwards, his cock is definitely curved up a bit, perfect to hit all those extra sensitive spots inside you. the most veiny out of all versions of batman, blame that on his crazy physique. he has protruding veins all over his body, and his cock is no exception. it would start around his pubic bone to the base of his dick, leading towards the shaft and ending closely to his tip. definitely multiple on him too. he's a bit more pale, around #f7edd2.

his balls are fucking heavy, something that's just a given with a cock as big as his. you would be able to feel them slapping against your skin in positions where he's fucking himself into you, as opposed to something like cowgirl. they also hang decently low too.

he can cum large amounts after not having sex in a while, but it probably turns into an average amount if he's having sex regularly. the color is also a more soft pigment but not too translucent.

i would say he would be on the more shaven side, but after playing batman: arkham knight multiple times, there's a conversation available between some thugs that mention this batman is more hairer than clean shaven. he's not the most tidy, probably not the hairiest either, but it's definitely there.

COMIC BATMAN

he's a fucking slut, period. not the biggest, but he knows damn well how to use it, kind of average around 6.5 inches. the tip of it isn't super round, not really pointy either, just sort of in between. he also has a pretty average girth, probably also cut. he would have smaller veins poking out of the shaft, none super long or thick, but they're definitely noticeable. depending on which comic he could either be super pale or sort of tan, but i'd say he's around #fce3d2. his tip is sort of a darker, mute kind of pink.

his balls aren't too big, definitely not small either, they don't hang super low or high. he has the picture perfect image of a nice, pretty cock. as a man-whore, i don't think he would be really sensitive either, but when he's about to orgasm, his dick definitely spasms a lot, the tip of it would become an angry red, and his balls would tighten up like he doesn't fuck a lot, but he definitely does.

he wouldn't cum a crazy lot either, his balls are happily emptied by himself or whoever's hole he's fucking for the week, maybe cums the least out of all the versions of batman, but still a good healthy amount. the color is more pigmented, barely opaque unless it's getting spread around.

since he has sex pretty often, for himself and the sake of his partner, he would keep himself shaven smooth, might even go so far as waxing himself. if he is hairy, it's because he's been working a lot and just doesn't have the time to clean himself up.

JUSTICE LEAGUE

he doesn't give me vibes that he's fucking a lot, but he definitely gives me big pp energy. he's uncut, 7 inches max, kind of curved to the right because of masturbating a lot. despite him having a great physique, i don't think his cock would be really veiny, and if there is, it's probably more around his pubic bone than on his shaft. he'd be more tan in color, around #ba9277. his tip is darker too, maybe a very light maroonish color.

his balls are decently heavy, they don't get emptied too often so they can get pretty big sometimes. for some reason, i also feel like they would have a sort of light hyperpigmentation. they hang on the lower side, but they're just as pretty as any version of batman ♡.

he can cum large amounts, he doesn't really care where either, as long as he can release after being pent up for a decent amount of time. it's also pretty pigmented in color, but due to how much he cums, it can get sort of translucent.

i imagine him more on the hairer side, he works a lot as both personas, and just doesn't really get around to it. if he was expecting to have sex soon, then he would take the time to shave himself up a bit. maybe not completely, but just enough so it isn't as bushy. but if he fucks someone and it's completely spontaneous and unplanned, his hair would definitely be pretty coarse.

a/n: omfg i struggled so bad to post this. i had to rewrite like three times just because it didn't save, on top of accidentally posting it while it was unfinished. i hate it here 🫠. but anyways, i was thinking about this and need all of these versions of batman to run a train on me ♡.