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escelia · 5 months

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New Sibling Just Dropped

Or Danny gets willingly isekai'd into the DCU and gets a twin out of it.

I know I disappeared from the face of the earth for a bit there, and there's stuff I should probably be updating, but I come baring different stuff this time :D

Just started this for fun, and I have at least one other chapter of it done, but idk how long this bout of inspiration will last, so I'm just rolling with it for now.

@flamingpudding look! i pulled a jason todd and rose from the grave!

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Danny was tired. The kind of tired you felt behind your eyes and in your bones, and weighed heavy with achievement. He was perched on the edge of a building in his ghost form looking over Amity Park with a soft smile as he watched Youngblood run through the park with human children, Cujo playfully on their heels. His galaxy cloak (which had been a coronation gift) billowed around his lap like a gas with stars twinkling inside.

It had been a few years now since he took up the Crown of Fire and became High King of the Infinite Realms, and while he had accomplished many things since then, graduating from high school wasn't something on that list. It sucked that he wouldn't get to walk across the stage with Sam and Tucker, but in the face of all he'd been able to do for both Amity and the Infinite Realms, it was worth it. They coexisted now. There was still trouble every now and then, but Danny had helped the ghosts who insisted on staying in Amity Park find a place in their city where they could thrive.

Youngblood watched over the children of the city, Box Ghost started a box recycling center, Lunch Lady started a program to get food to families that couldn't afford it, and Pointdexter started reporting bullying at the school since he was already there.

On the Realms' side, Danny shut down Walker's prison. Since it was his lair, he couldn't take it away from him completely, but it no longer housed the many ghosts the warden had considered "rule breakers." He'd given Walker a new set of rules to enforce and essentially took him under his wing as a royal soldier, kept under the close watch of Fight Knight, who'd defected from Pariah Dark so fast after his defeat that it was laughable.

He'd done something similar with Skulker, though he was a harder case to crack. Unlike Walker, who was happy as long as he had a set of rules to enforce, Skulker wanted to keep hunting. He'd been recruited forcefully by Walker and Fright Knight after they caught him on his way to fight Danny again.

All in all, everything had begun to run smoothly now. The fatigue weighing on him reminded him that it had been hard to accomplish, and continuing to lead his double life hadn't made it any less exhausting. A cold breath rushed through his chest as he felt a familiar presence slide up next to him.

"You didn't time out," Danny pointed out without looking to face the ghost beside him. Clockwork hummed in acknowledgment.

"Sometimes it's pleasant to watch time flow in person." It was Danny's turn to hum at him.

"How are you feeling?" The Ancient asked thoughtfully. The younger ghost tilted his head pensively.

"It's hard to say. I'm tired, but I'm happy. And also sad..." he paused to gather his thoughts. "I feel like I've done everything I needed to."

But not everything he wanted to do.

"Go on," Clockwork pressed. The teenager did turn his head now to make a face at his mentor. If the guy knew how he felt and what he was going to say, why would he say it out loud? But the other just arched a brow at him and waited.

"Fine," he pouted. "I've spent so much time and energy finding places for everyone here. The GIW are gone, my parents stopped hunting ghosts, Jazz got into the psychology program at Stanford, Sam and Tucker are graduating today... I helped make that happen, I know I did! But they're moving on without me. They're growing up and I don't feel like I am."

'I don't feel like I'm ready.'

Danny stopped to take a breath and wipe away the icy tears gathering in his eyes. He felt stupid for crying over it. He was 17 for Ancients' sake! Jazz would have told him he grew up too fast, but he still felt like a child. He had no idea what he was doing! And yet! And yet... he felt...

"But you also feel ancient, right? Like you've been around too long and seen too much?" Clockwork said as though he were reading from a script. Danny sulked. Stupid time ghost with his dumb Time Stream TV or whatever.

"Yeah..."

"All Ancients feel that way. Though you may be feeling unbalanced in more ways than one because of how young you died and the fact you are half human."

"What do you mean?" Danny turned his whole body to face him now, tucking his knees under his chin and circling his arms around them. His cloak moved with him in inky black wisps and settled around him again like clouds of galaxies.

Clockworks form shifted to that of a child.

"You feel young because you died young. However, it is the nature of humans to grow and change. While you may have died at 14, your childhood died before that. You yearn to grow and learn, while also being an incredibly powerful Ancient."

He supposed that made sense. He recalled all the years cleaning the lab before the portal had even been built, and the fighting and neglect (Jazz's words, not his) that spawned his disdain of Christmas even longer before. He wanted to go back to school. He wanted a reason to love Christmas. He wanted pets and family dinners that didn't come alive. He wanted to grow up properly.

"But you still want to help people," the ghost said as though Danny had been talking out loud or having his mind read.

"I hate it when you do that," Danny complained. Clockwork just smiled smugly.

"I know." He laughed at the glare Danny threw him.

"I have a proposition for you," the older ghost began. Danny perked up in intrigue. "I know of another earth dimension with some problems that need to be addressed. Your role as High King puts you in a position to be helpful."

"Their problem has to do with the Realms?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Ectoplasm from the Realms is pooling into what are referred to on their planet as Lazarus Pits. They are both helpful and harmful as they do not dissipate into the air so they continually collect and concentrate emotion, but they do sometimes revive the dead."

Danny grimaced in disgust at the thought of dunking a person into a stagnant pool of contaminated ectoplasm. "That sounds disgusting."

"Quite," Clockwork agreed.

"So what's your proposition?"

"Well, if it is agreeable to you, I would like to de-age your physical form and place you with a family that's had dealings with the Pits firsthand. I've found them to be quite charming."

"Ah, so you want me to go in undercover?" Danny couldn't help but roll his eyes a little. It wasn't a half bad idea. He could try his hand at childhood again and still get to handle his duties as King Phantom. Leading a double life again would be easy enough, it was just stepping from one role into another.

"Not at all." Clockwork smiled knowingly. Danny was officially suspicious of his ghost guardian. "This planet has had all kinds of dealings with the occult, and even humans with superpowers isn't that unusual. While I would advise against telling anyone you are a king right away, you are in fact just that: a king. You may do what you wish."

For an ancient and wise time ghost, Danny thought Clockwork was really shit at hiding his expressions. Though he tried to keep the grin off his face, Danny could clearly see the twitching of his lips and gleam in his eyes that promised the old man was scheming.

But to get his childhood back. Or, at least a semblance of one... it deserved consideration. Danny looked back out at the cityscape again. Sam and Tucker... they were down there graduating from high school without him. He'd been the one to encourage them to pull away from Team Phantom activities to zero in on their studies, but he didn't regret it. Sam wanted to major in environmental science and Tucker wanted to go to MIT and he just didn't fit into those plans. After Jazz left for Stanford, his parents often forgot he was still there. He'd managed to convince them to study ghosts properly instead of hunting them, and with a little help from the "friendly ghost King Phantom" they were given a place to start. They dove into their research with the same excitement and fervor they'd had all their lives. Which of course meant he went days, sometimes weeks, without seeing them emerge from the lab. It was easy enough to slip past them to the portal while they were distracted.

The point was that he'd started to feel his anchor to this city, to this realm, start to dissipate as the people who kept him there started to break away from him. He still loved them, wanted to protect them, but they were safe and happy now. He felt fulfilled in his task of protecting them, but there was a buzzing beneath his skin to do more.

Danny took a deep and controlled breath. He didn't need it in his ghost form, but it felt good to feel his lungs stretch to fullness.

"When would I start?" He asked finally. The straight face Clockwork had been trying to keep, and he really was so bad at it, finally broke into a wide grin.

"Right now. Everything is already in place and your duties in the Realms will be taken care of in your absence."

Danny smiled softly at his guardian. Clockwork sure had a funny way of showing it, but he cared so deeply for the boy next to him that when Danny responded with a bad pun, he couldn't even be annoyed.

"Well, no time like the present!" He winked.

Clockwork chuckled, and with a flash of light, he sent Danny on his way.

The more time the older ghost spent with his young ward, the more he appreciated him. The Danny he’d come to know was nothing like the Danny’s from other worlds he’d encountered while trying to prevent Dan from existing. His Danny was now truly one of a kind. None of the others, not even the ones that eventually turned into Dan, had been Ancients. There would never be another Danny like him, and every universe was adjusting to include him should he ever decide to visit them. He had a place in any world, should he choose, but Clockwork knew he was needed most in the one he’d sent him to. It would be truly entertaining to watch the young Ancient settle into his role there, and Clockwork was actually finding himself looking forward to it.

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It was dark and quiet a long while before Danny opened his eyes. And when he did open them it got really loud and really bright really fast. It belatedly occurred to him that he should have asked like a billion more questions before agreeing to be iseaki’d into a different dimension to join a family he knew literally nothing about.

There was shouting before someone in what looked like a ninja cult uniform shoved a knife into his hand and pushed him in the path of a person in a different uniform. The man in front of him was dressed in blue and black and wearing a mask that covered his eyes, but Danny could see the surprised shape of his mouth before it morphed into something like anger. And then he was being lunged at.

He shrieked as he dodged out of the way. Not his most graceful save, but whatever. His voice was a bit shrill and his center of gravity felt way off. He must have actually been de-aged! He wondered how old he was now. He still felt light on his feet thanks to his ghost half which felt blessedly intact. But the other guy was fast and he ducked into a roll just in time to dodge whatever weapon he was holding. This guy meant business, but he had no idea why he was trying to kill him.

‘Great, thanks Grandfather Clock for throwing me right back into the good ol’ days,’ he thought sarcastically. Nobody had attacked him for no good reason like that since Walker and Fright caught Skulker mid hunt for the very last time.

What he now saw was a baton swung down from overhead and Danny knew he wouldn't dodge it in time, so he caught it with the flat of the blade that had been shoved into his hands.

“Wait! Why are we fighting?” Danny yelled, panicked as the guy pushed more force into it. The man's face twisted into something like confusion for a moment and he backed off just the tiniest bit before the scuffing of shoes to his right had him looking over just in time to see another guy in a mask, this time in red, rushing at him. He threw his hands up in surrender.

“Wait!” He shrieked before he was absolutely bodied sideways into the ground.

Why was he doing this? He was half ghost, he could have just gone intangible and disappeared. He didn't have to be body slammed into the ground. Wasn't he a child now? Did that guy in red actually just slam a whole child into the ground?

“Red, hold on! This one's different!”

“What do you mean?” The guy Red asked. He was still pinning Danny to the ground.

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Danny asked breathlessly, then whimpered, “Someone please tell me what's going on!”

The one hovering over him must have seen something on his face that convinced him to not try and kill him anymore, because he grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him along.

“We'll take him in for questioning. Don't let Robin see him.”

“Who's Robin?!”

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It had been a long, arduous, and confusing journey from wherever they were to… well, wherever they were now. They'd blindfolded him for the transport so he still had no idea what was going on. He had learned that the guy with batons was Nightwing, and Red was actually Red Robin. The one they called Robin was a feral looking thing with swords, he was very small and stabby. Then there was Batman, and he totally threw off the whole bird theme but was easily the most intimidating. And that was all he knew so far. He'd been restrained at an interrogation table.

Danny groaned and knocked his forehead onto the table. He really, really wished he'd asked Clockwork more questions. He'd at least been able to catch a glimpse of himself in the glass behind Batman. He looked like he was eleven or twelve again, which was not as young as he'd been expecting, but much more preferable than being a literal toddler. The group of people he’d been brought in by seemed to be heroes. They were all incredibly weary of him, but hadn’t gone out of their way to harm him since his capture. Though it was hard to call it a capture when there wasn’t a chase involved.

“How old are you?” Batman asked suddenly. His voice was low and rough and somehow Danny could tell it didn't sound like that naturally.

“Um, maybe eleven or twelve?” Danny replied carefully, picking up his head from the table and having the decency to look a little embarrassed.

“And what's your name?” He looked like he was expecting something.

“My name is Danny, sir.”

“Hmm…”

It was quiet and awkward for a long moment.

“Why are you different from the other clones?”

“Yeeeaaah, I'm not a clone.” Danny absolutely did not jump when the brute slammed the file folder shut in front of him.

“We'll see what your DNA results have to say about that,” he said confidently before turning to leave, his cape dramatically flaring out behind him.

Sheesh, and he thought he’d had a flair for the dramatics.

‘Okay, time for some assessment,’ Danny thought to himself as he looked around the small closed room. It was soundproofed incredibly well. While he didn’t have super crazy hearing, it was enhanced by his ghost half, and combined with his other sharp senses, it tended to help him gather more information than others could. The most he could hear outside the room was a quiet hum of activity and nothing discernible. Still, he needed to decide how much he would say to these people. How much truth did he want to weave into his tale? These people clearly already had their own assumptions about him in mind, and while there was absolutely nothing wrong with being a clone, he knew he didn’t have what it took to keep up an act like that for long, which would just end up being awkward for everyone.

He also would not be telling them about his status as Ghost King, per Clockwork’s suggestion. His captors seemed like the uptight sort, and revealing that he was a big, scary ghost monarch didn’t seem like it’d go over well. Telling them he was a halfa would probably get them off his back over the clone thing, at least. He went over the list in his head.

He was a halfa from another dimension, so he couldn’t be a clone.

He had no plans of fighting with anyone unless absolutely necessary.

He did not have a way back to his other dimension.

His name was Danny, and he didn’t have a family anymore.

He did not know why he was in the middle of whatever fight he woke up in.

No, he didn’t know those people.

Danny must’ve been lost in thought for quite a while because his thoughts were interrupted by Batman bursting back through the door. The man’s demeanor had changed completely and he whipped off his cowl to reveal disheveled dark hair, blue eyes, and an expression of absolute heartbreak that accompanied his shuddering breaths. With the mask off, he reminded Danny a lot of his father.

Batman searched his face and, much like Red Robin had before, seemed to notice something there.

“She did it twice,” he muttered to himself. “Two of them this whole time and she didn’t tell me about either of them,” he said through gritted teeth. His frown deepened. Danny copied his frown.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He still had no idea what was going on.

#dcxdp #danny phantom #batman #danny fenton #fanfiction #damian wayne #batfam #just having fun with all the tropes #danny and damian are twins #except they're also kinda not #danny just wants to be a kid again #clockwork is scheming again #not even damian is safe from it #danny wanted something to do and clockwork dropped him and and said “go fix this”#also this is like barely edited

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werecreature-addicted · 4 months

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I am FERAL right now

Creature of the deep/siren like monster boyfriend during egg laying season and he's all uncomfortable and clingy. Being more aggressive and defensive when anything nearing his slit. Especially if you point out anything leaking out

It's night out and he can't get comfortable against the rock he usually lays in when you both mean. His fins are flared and he's more unstable on his legs than usual. Lost the confidence and teasing as his tail twitched and writhed when anything would press against his abdomen

When you can finally get him to lay across his lap he's clawing and hissing at you touching his abdomen until 2 slick, leaking, tentacle like cocks slide out and are positively DROOLING in the moonlight. Begging to be touched and lay eggs. He immediately started twitching but honey you gonna have to deal with those sharp claws in your arm.

Worst of it? He can't cum until he's laid all his eggs, and judging from how sensitive and swollen his slit is, it'll be awhile. He's extremely sensitive as you slowing coax out eggs from his urethra, goo like slick pouring down from the widened tube to lay eggs. And he is SOBBING at every touch.

Twitching, dry(?) orgasms, crying, and screaming all from the feeling of you trying to jack out his eggs. Blood on his hands from where he scratched you, he can't even lick it like he usually did.

And don't get me started on the final eggs. You would have to push a finger into the slit to try and press on the gland, but oh no! It's too much on your boyfriend and he fucking loses it. Screaming and kicking the second he feels you push anything in his slit. You would have to prepare him to do it again and even then he's biting you and leaving your hands covered in your blood and his slick. His tail slamming against the sand as you pump out the last egg.

Last part from there is to finish what you begun. Both his cocks are leaking out, and it doesn't taken him long to cum at all. A few pumps and light touches to his overworked slit and cock has him cumming in seconds. Next thing you know, your boyfriend is out cold and you both are covered in cum. And it's so hot because you've never seen him cum when remotely this much before.

I'm so normal about this

had to get this in before the end of MerMay.

Mermaid boyfriend who insists you take a week off of work to spend with him during breeding season. there's no way he's letting you go when he feels this way, so it's better if you just plan ahead to be with him. Even when he sleeps he keeps his cock inside of you, subconsciously thrusting his hips mumbling to himself as he fills you with his warm sticky cum, then when he wakes up he'll fuck you with a renewed passion as he thinks about his wet dream.

you have your work cut out for you, milking too big cocks for all his eggs, teasing the slit head, maybe you're mean and slot your finger into his opening fucking his cock with your finger and plugging up the eggs so the pressure builds in his dick. mermaids lay hundreds of eggs and each one makes him shudder and pant and whine as it pushes out of him.

He's in a cold sweat as he bites and sucks on your skin his mind fried. he has to fuck you, he needs to cum in you and get you pregnant every fiber of his being is begging him to snap forward and claim you again and again. but his cock aches, he's cum so much today that he's dizzy with overstimulation. he needs to but he can't.

Maybe he'll just eat you out for a while while his cock takes a break. hopefully, the taste of his cum on your sweet cunt doesn't make him cum untouched.

#monster imagine #monster fucker #monster #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #mermaid x reader #mermay #merfolk #sea monster #mermaid x human #mermaid smut

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sweetpascal · 2 months

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𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 — 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

gif by: @richardgrimes

pairing: perv!stepdad!joel x fem!reader

summary: when you do the unthinkable, joel takes it upon himself to let out all of his anger and frustration onto you. the punishments that follow are ones that officially tear you apart and turn you into an unrecognizable girl.

warnings: MINORS DNI. DUB-CON. BIG AGE GAP [18/52], joel is VERY VERY VERY mean in this chapter, face slapping, hair pulling, hella manipulation, finger sucking, spanking as punishment [with his hand and belt], TW: isolation as punishment, TW: emotional abuse, joel spits on your face, oral [m receiving], TW: forced asphyxiation, joel has a very big dick ok, masochism, sadism, dacryphilia, kinda angsty ??

wc: 7.3k

notes: i felt kinda blah about this series cause i feel like i'm not making joel mean enough compared to how some writers write dark!joel (´•︵•`) so i got really sad and put all my emotions into this chapter as a coping mechanism and made joel REALLY fucking mean and just... a horrible and nasty man. trauma ?? i think so. ENJOY. ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

edit: i posted this later than expected UGH. expect two updates in one day.

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By the time you awoke, the space beside you in bed was vacant. You have no recollection of drifting off in Joel's embrace. As you rise, the fluffy blanket cascades down, gathering around your hips. Joel must have draped it over you once you had succumbed to sleep. The absence of his clothes on the floor and the chill of his side of the bed leave you questioning whether he stayed the night at all, stirring a sense of unease within you. He had done something new, something that made you feel good, and he wasn't here when you woke up. Why? Why wasn't he here? Why do you feel so cold all of a sudden? Was this something normal that men do? Embarrassed by the series of events from last night, you pull on your discarded panties and shorts.

The sunrise had not yet begun. Looking out the window, the sky displayed an almost purplish tint with the sun barely cresting the horizon. It was a cloudless sky, yet the faint chirping of morning birds could be heard from their respective trees. Unsure of the time, as Joel had confiscated your phone and you lacked an alarm clock, the day's start remained ambiguous.

As you tiptoe out of your room, you notice the house is completely quiet. Joel usually wakes up before dawn, but today, a faint snore drifts from his and your mom's bedroom. Moving down the hall, you gently push the slightly open door further. In the dim blue light filtering in from outside, you can just make out Joel's form. He's sprawled on his stomach in the center of the bed, clutching his pillow while your mom's lies abandoned on the floor. Shirtless, the sheets are drawn just below the dimples of his back. The bedside clock shows 5:22 AM.

"Daddy?" you whisper faintly into the darkness, pausing for an answer. Only his soft snores, muffled by the pillow, meet your ears. Drawing nearer, you notice Joel is lying on his good ear, the other affected by partial hearing loss. The urge to rouse him is strong, yet you hesitate, knowing these moments of peaceful rest are few for him.

The rumbling of your stomach makes you whimper. Joel usually prepares meals for you when asked. Your mother, however, rarely agrees, often reminding you that you're old enough to cook for yourself. But Joel always protests, saying, "I don't want your pretty little hands to get all cut up and burned." Perhaps he wouldn't mind if you made breakfast just this once. It would be a sweet gesture to surprise him with breakfast in bed. You wonder if your mom ever did something like that for him.

"I'm going to make breakfast for us, okay, Daddy?" you whisper, a bit louder this time, your hand hovering just above his broad back. You can feel the warmth radiating onto your palm. When he doesn't respond, only emitting another snore, you quietly tiptoe out of the room and gently close the door, cringing when it makes a loud noise at the last moment.

Descending the stairs, a sense of unease weighs heavily in your stomach. Alone, with dark blue hues filling patches of the vacant house and shadows stretching across the walls, you almost feel an invisible presence. You find yourself wishing Joel were awake to fend off the lurking shadows. Rushing to the kitchen, you flip on the light, blinking against the sudden brightness until your eyes adjust.

Opening the fridge revealed a lackluster array of dinner leftovers, several half-empty condiment bottles, an empty milk carton, and a bag of grapes beginning to rot. It was disappointing to find nothing inspiring to cook with. A glance at the stovetop clock showed it was 5:30. The local market would open at 6, and it was only a half-hour walk away. However, the prospect of walking that distance didn't appeal to you, dramatic as it might seem. Your eyes then fell upon Joel's truck keys and wallet in the bowl on the kitchen countertop. Surely, he wouldn't mind if you borrowed them for a quick shopping trip.

Right?

By the time you returned home, it was nearly 8 o'clock. The neighborhood had fully come to life. The groceries in the truck's backseat jostled with every gentle turn. A sinking feeling emerged at the thought of Joel's anger over you borrowing his truck without asking and taking some of his twenty-dollar bills. Yet, it stemmed from a desire to do something kind for him in gratitude for his good care during your mother's absence. An excitement bubbled within you, eager to burst.

You hadn't planned to be out this long, but losing track of time and procrastinating on your tasks is a frequent issue. Joel often chides you for this, playfully urging you to get your head out of the clouds and to come back down to earth. Your only hope is that Joel remains asleep, unaware of your absence. However, the missing money from his wallet, the extra miles on his truck, and the depleted gas are sure to give you away.

As you park the truck in the driveway, you notice the porch screen is wide open, though you remember closing it before sneaking out. Your heart sinks at the sight of Joel's daunting figure in the doorway, his gaze piercing through the windshield. It's a wonder the glass doesn't crack under the weight of his stare. Your pulse quickens, a flurry of nervous butterflies takes flight in your stomach, and your palms dampen with sweat as you clutch the steering wheel tightly.

Joel points at you and then to the ground at his feet, silently mouthing, "Now." He then vanishes back into the house, clearly pissed off. Fear grips you, making it daunting to leave the truck's safety. After six agonizing minutes, you gather enough bravery to step out, your breath hitching in your throat and almost making it difficult to breathe.

After hoisting the grocery bags into your arms and nudging the back passenger door closed with your foot, likely leaving a mark on the polished metal, you make your way to the porch with unsteady steps. The door stands slightly open, and you gently push it wider. As you spin around to close it, a hand reaches over your shoulder and slams it with such force that the house seems to shake. Startled, you yelp loudly as Joel grabs your arm firmly and pulls you into the kitchen, his long strides causing you to stumble over your feet.

"Sit your fuckin' ass down," he practically barks, pulling out a kitchen chair and slams it down. He pushes you toward the chair so forcefully that the grocery bags tumble down around you. As you land on the wooden chair, the impact from Joel's shove nearly expels all the air from your lungs.

He stands over you from your seated position, towering and nearly trembling with fury. Joel's hands are clenched into tight fists, his knuckles whitening under the strain. He scratches his jaw and paces, a low growl emanating from deep within his chest as the intensity in his eyes burns fiercer. You close your eyes, sitting motionless, bracing yourself.

"Are you out of your GODDAMN MIND?!" He bends down to scream in your face, his face contorted in a way that makes him look scary and so different from the usual angry Joel you normally see. This Joel was drowning in rage. His eyes were nearly black and the lines on his face deepened as he snarled in your face. "You fucking ANSWER ME!" One hand grabs the back of your hair and yanks your head back so fast that your nerve spasms, a shrieking cry escaping your lips. His other hand grabs your face and squeezes your jaw so tightly that pain blossoms throughout your gums.

"Stop, stop, stop, please, stop!" You're babbling in his face, thick tears sliding down your cheeks from the intense pain in your scalp, neck, and jaw. You could barely catch a breath from how hard you're crying. "Da-Daddy, p-please!" You're grabbing on both of his forearms, nails digging deep through his long shirt, no doubt leaving indentations.

Joel only grunts lowly, his breath heavy and fast. His hands squeeze tighter, and he roughly shakes your head, loving the way your face scrunches up at the pain he's causing. Then, he forcibly pushes your head away, releasing his hands from your knotted hair and your already bruising jaw. Tears streaming down your face, you draw your knees up to your chest for comfort and hesitantly reach for the back of your head, while your other hand softly caresses your jaw. Your eyes are wide, reflecting a state of shock and fear. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his frown growing more pronounced as you quiver uncontrollably.

He pulls his wallet from his back pocket and flings it towards you. It strikes your knees and tumbles to the floor, unfolding just enough to reveal its barren interior.

"You take my fuckin' truck," Joel says in a low voice, trembling with anger. He steps back, his boots thudding on the floorboards. "You take my fuckin' money." At this point, you're nearly hyperventilating, silently cursing yourself for such a foolish act and expecting him to accept it. He goes on, his tone grave, "And you sneak out without telling me, huh? What, you want more freedom than what I'm giving you here?"

The anger that Joel feels is indescribable. It's coursing through his veins like heroin, poisoning his blood and gradually taking over his body. He doesn't know what to do, or even think. All that he can do is react. How stupid of you to think this was okay. How mind-numbingly idiotic it was of him to expect you to follow his rules and obey him like a good girl. As he looks down at you like smeared shit at the bottom of his shoe, there seems to be only one option left.

Before you can react, Joel has seized your arm and pulled you up from the chair, nearly dislocating your shoulder. His footsteps are long, resounding, and forceful. Tears continue to flow as he hauls you up the stairs. You stumble on each step, crying and sobbing, while you try to keep pace with him. Your knees are banging against every edge as Joel practically drags you up the steps.

"Da-Dad-dy!" Choking on your tears, you can barely see anything. Your vision is blurry, and your hearing is muffled. Every nerve in your body is on fire. "Pl-Please, Jo-el!"

"Get up, girl! C'mon. Get your fuckin' ass up!" He grunts through labored breaths, jaw clenching tightly as he drags your body by the arm up the last step. "I've had 'nough of you."

Suddenly, he kicks your bedroom door open, your heartbreaking cries falling on deaf ears. Your body is shoved into your room with enough force to make you collapse onto the ground. You're gasping for air, your fingers slick with sweat as they frantically claw at the rug, desperate to find something to hold onto.

Joel stands motionless in the doorway, his gaze fixed on you without a trace of emotion. Thoughts flood his mind, overwhelming him like a tsunami. Make her hurt. Make her cry. Make her beg for mercy. He retrieves a key from his front pocket and observes as you pathetically curl into a ball on the floor, your shoulders shaking violently while you cry into the carpet. His hand rests on the doorknob. Before leaving, he speaks in an unexpectedly gentle tone, "Until I believe you've learned your lesson, you're going to stay here, and you're going to think about what you did."

Then, he departs and forcefully closes your door. Amidst your heavy sobs, the sound of the bedroom door lock engaging is audible. Glancing over your shoulder weakly, you notice the doorknob has been altered from before. Gone is the twist lock, replaced now by a keyed lock mechanism.

The epiphany strikes with overwhelming force. Enclosed by a door that's locked and windows sealed shut, you find yourself imprisoned with no means of escape.

Unaware of how much time has passed, you stay on the ground, curled up, emotionless. The tears have stopped, leaving behind an empty stare. The night has already set in, shrouding your room in darkness from top to bottom. Joel's footsteps are audible everywhere, hardly silent. Whenever he approaches your door, there's a halt, a moment of stillness, and then the sound of his steps resumes. Undoubtedly, he was listening with his ear against the door. Each approach brought a heaviness to your heart and a sinking sensation in your stomach.

The aroma of garlic sizzling in oil drifted from the kitchen, prompting your mouth to water and your stomach to knot with hunger. You hadn't eaten since the night before. The clatter of pots and pans, either being used or stored away, brought tears to your eyes. "Stupid, stupid girl," you chide yourself. It was foolish to attempt a kind gesture for Joel, only to have it go horribly wrong. It was a rash and impetuous move. Now, he'll never forgive you for this. This realization has you weeping once more into the spit-soaked, tear-stained rug.

Engrossed in your thoughts, you fail to notice the door has come unlocked and now stands ajar, the hallway light spilling in and illuminating your huddled form. Joel pauses in the doorway, a plate of food in hand, and tuts softly at the pathetic sight before him.

"Sit up," he commands, making his way deeper into the dimly lit room. The sound of his rough voice had your entire body tensing and your quiet cries immediately halting. When you remain still, Joel becomes irritated and prods your hip forward with his muddy boot, leaving a mark on the pristine white dress you wore especially to surprise him. "I said, get your fuckin' ass up, little girl. Don't make me tell you again."

With trembling limbs, you gradually unfold yourself, grimacing as your muscles burn. Your scalp, jaw, neck, knees, and arms feel as though they are on fire. After hours of immobility and neglecting your aching body, the pain strikes you with overwhelming force.

Joel squats before you, emitting a soft grunt as his knees pop and his lower back tightens. In silence, he extends the plate of food between you both: parmesan garlic chicken, green beans, and red roasted baby potatoes. The aroma and appearance make your eyes widen, your mouth water, and your stomach rumble.

The moment your fingertips graze the plate's underside, Joel pulls it away and sets it on the ground. Your faint smile vanishes, replaced by a frown as you meet his stern gaze. He remains silent, his stare unwavering. Looking down at the plate, it dawns on you that there's not a fork, knife, or even a spoon in sight.

"Eat," he commands, his voice a quiet murmur. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes unblinking, his facial expression shifting subtly. The softness and tenderness that were once reserved for you have vanished. He never used to look at your mom the way he looked at you. But now, his gaze is identical. It leaves you feeling sorrowful and heartbroken.

Confused and very much embarrassed at not knowing what to do, you hesitantly reach out to grab the chicken with your bare hand. Joel's hand roughly clamping around your wrist and shoving it away prevents you from doing so. There was a surge of panic that shot through you like a shotgun blast.

"No," he snaps, his eyes narrowing and his scowl deepening. It's clear he's losing patience. Joel has no time for games. "Bend down… and eat," he commands.

There's a tense, heavy moment of silence as you thoroughly think about what he's telling you to do. Warmth spreads throughout your neck and rises to your cheeks before settling on the tips of your ears. Your heart plummets to your stomach. So, like an obedient little dog, you lower your head down to the plate on the ground and begin eating.

Joel smiles at your obedience, one hand gently petting your head and tenderly massaging the tendrils of hair connected to your scalp that he viscously yanked. He softly quiets you when you flinch and unintentionally whimper. He maintains the gentle, affectionate strokes of his hand through your hair, even gathering it into a ponytail to help you eat more comfortably.

"That's a good girl," he softly praises, settling onto his knees in front of you and using his other hand to gently stroke your jaw. "See how easy it is to obey Daddy? You just needed some of Daddy's tough lovin', huh?"

Is this what it was? Some tough love? You've never encountered that before, much less experienced it. Since you were never a problem child, discipline was seldom necessary. Maybe this is exactly what you needed to be a good girl for Joel. Maybe this tough love is what will help you do better and learn from your stupid mistakes.

As you continue eating, Joel finds himself slowly loving the sight of you eating like a fucking mutt in front of him. Knowing that he can push you so far as to do something like this excites him. His hand tightens in the makeshift ponytail he has your hair in, and his eyes darken. Letting out a whimper that was muffled from your food, you make sure to not complain about it to Joel. He was already upset with you from earlier and you really don't want to push it further.

"That's enough," he declares, his hand in your hair stopping your movements while his other hand takes your plate away, leaving half of the food untouched and uneaten. His hand pops you on the cheek when he hears you protesting, a pained yelp escaping your slobbered lips. He forces your head up to be eye level with his. "Listen to me, little girl. From this moment forward, Daddy will decide what you eat, when you eat it, and how much you can eat. Have I made myself clear?" His voice's tone is so authoritative that it holds no room for argument, not that you could muster one even if you wished to.

Nevertheless, you find yourself nodding within his grasp. Choosing not to protest was wise. Should this behavior be part of your punishment or his version of tough love, you certainly wouldn't want to witness him at full strength. Merely the thought was enough to make you shudder with fear once more. Joel was an incredibly strong man, often unaware of his own strength. He could break your jaw with one squeeze--he almost fucking did it this morning.

Joel mocks your nod. "Good," he hums, offering you a pleased smile as he lovingly strokes the apple of your cheeks. "Now, come to the bathroom so Daddy can brush your teeth."

Leaving your half-finished plate behind, you follow Joel into the hallway. You trail behind him aimlessly, your steps shaky and limping. He notices but chooses not to comment. It's for the best, a silent reminder that such consequences will recur if you act carelessly again.

Joel opens the door to the main bathroom and guides you inside with care. He lifts you with ease under your arms and sets you down on the countertop. A small squeak escapes from your chest, a sound that Joel finds adorable. He flashes a subtle grin and begins to wet your toothbrush, dabbing on the toothpaste. He shuffles between your thighs and thumbs your mouth open to start brushing your teeth. His actions brought you comfort, making you feel cherished and cared for. Even though you could have done it yourself, witnessing Joel display his nurturing side was touching. You longed to see more of this aspect of him, silently promising to be well-behaved with every passing minute.

"Alright, babydoll," he says as pats your thighs lovingly and rinses off your toothbrush after instructing you to lean over the sink and spit out the minty froth. "Now, get your butt back to your room and lean over the bed, panties off."

Joel notices the confusion spark in your eyes before it manifests in the furrowing of your brows. Your lips part to question him, but the words become stuck in your throat as his eyes darken and he gives a subtle shake of his head, tutting softly to himself.

"And here I thought you were goin' to start listening to me," he lets out a dark chuckle before invading your space with his strong chest pressing against yours. The force of the action causes your back to crash against the mirror, your head striking the glass while the sink spout presses into your lower back, causing discomfort and pain.

He bares his teeth just barely as he gets in your face, nostrils flaring and eyebrows furrowing, the storm brewing wildly in his eyes. Joel laughs gruffly as your eyes widen and you put your hands up in front of your body against his chest to protect yourself from his unpredictability. Oh, how cute. You were shaking under his hold like a frightened little bunny. Joel presses you harder against the mirror, no doubt forcing the sink spout deeper into your back. He grumbles pleasantly under his breath. He was causing this terrible fear clear as day on your face. The blooming bruises on your body are caused by his hands. The finger shaped bruises looked like a work of art on your delicate skin.

"Oh, babydoll," his breath fans across your face. He gives you a mocking pout, hushing you softly when the tears spill. "You're makin' it real hard not to paint that ass black and blue, you know that?"

Your bottom lip trembles and your body quivers, eyes shutting tightly as you mentally prepare yourself for Joel's next action. Tears spill and disappear underneath your aching jaw. He wipes them away at first, but when they keep sliding down, he wipes a tear-stained thumb across your lips before pushing the appendage deeper into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue.

"D'you taste that?" He asks you so quietly that you almost missed it. He's looking at his thumb between your lips and bites down on his own. Joel gazes into your wide eyes, which stare back at him as if he were the boogeyman. In a way, he is. "That's the taste of fear, sweetheart. Don't it taste fuckin' delicious?" The laugh he lets out is depraved, deranged, and delirious. With his thumb still in your mouth, he uses the other fingers to wrap under your chin before using that grip to force your head to move up and down roughly. "That's what I thought. Now, I ain't going to ask you again, babydoll. Take your ass back to your room and take off your fuckin' panties. When I get back, you better be leaning over the edge or so fuckin' help me God."

The mere threat was sufficient to send you scuttling down the hallway, pushing past Joel in a rush to get to your room. He watches you do so with a sadistic smile on his face. To see you react in such a way has him so fucking hard in his jeans. He cups a hand over the thickness and squeezes. There was a brief warmth pooling in his groin, and he let out a husky moan before his hand falls away. In due time, he silently tells himself.

Shaking, stuttering breaths were muffled in the bedding. You did exactly as you were told. The tips of your toes just barely skimming the rug, you were leant over the edge of the bed with your panties pooled at your ankles. One of your hands had blindly reached across the bed to grab onto your stuffed animal to curl an arm around it and press it against your side. The only comforting thing you can have at this moment that can hopefully ease the unsettling anxiety that won't go away.

Uncertain of how much time has passed, it might have been five minutes, ten, or perhaps even an hour. You caught a fleeting sound of Joel entering the room to retrieve your plate, then he left, securing the door with a lock behind him.

Long stretches of silence enveloped you, allowing the sound of your own heartbeat to echo mercilessly in your ears. It was a fleeting moment of tranquility before Joel determined his next move. In this stillness, sleep nearly overtook you, the exhaustion from hours of weeping creeping up silently. Then, the door unlocks, knob slowly turning. The ominous creaking of your door opening has you tensing as you hold your breath.

The steady stomp of Joel's footsteps enters your room before the door is shut behind him. The sight of you in a position that he demanded from you was driving him fucking wild. Panties at your ankles and your cute ass on display, the hem of your dress stopping just at the middle of your cheeks. He can see your pussy nearly calling out for him to play with her. But he can't, not at this moment. He needs you to understand that your actions, done behind his back, were unacceptable. They were reckless and dangerous—just the thought of it is enough to make Joel feel like punching a wall over and over.

"Now, what am I goin' to do with you, babydoll?" The question is rhetorical. He knows what he's going to do to you, but you don't. Leaving you in the dark of where his mind runs wild, keeping you pure from his deranged, perverted thoughts was for your own good. He intends to maintain a safe distance to prevent any critical harm, beyond what has already been inflicted.

The sound of Joel's voice has your hips shifting, your pussy lips just barely parted to give him a show of your exposed clit poking out from the hood that protects the exposed nerve. As he gets closer, he can see your stuffed animal in a headlock under your arm. How cute and pathetic.

"I gotta say, honey," he starts talking, his voice humorless and no longer holding that warm tone he previously had when he walked in. "It was adorable you thought I was done with you tonight. I mean, you really thought Daddy locking you up here was all that he was goin' to do?"

Unsure if the question was rhetorical or not, you still answered in a breathy voice, "Y-Yes, Daddy."

A smile makes its way onto Joel's face. "Yes, Daddy," he mocks your high pitched, breathy voice. The act of him doing so caused an embarrassed flush to warm your cheeks and ears. To be mocked made you feel so small. But that's what you are to Joel; this tiny, little thing that is so easy to crush in his big hand.

His groin rests against your ass cheeks, both of his hands lifting your dress higher until it pools around your upper back, further exposing your naked body to his eager eyes. The rough denim of his jeans and the cold metal of his zipper pressing into your backside made you hiss under your breath. Joel's hands hold onto your hips, forcing your body further onto the bed until your toes are no longer skimming above the rug, your feet now only dangling a few inches up.

"That's more like it," he grunts quietly, biting down on the plump flesh of his body limp when he sees goosebumps erupt on your soft skin. So, so fucking soft and untainted. As one hand pins you down at your lower back, his other hand gently rubs across your left ass cheek. Barely glancing at you to make sure you're prepared for what's to come, Joel mutters, "Brace yourself, sweetheart."

Then, he thwacks his palm across your skin. The force and strength of the smack made you cry out in surprise and pain. He smacks your other cheek with the same force. He does it again and again, back and forth, back and forth. Your legs kick behind you as fiery warmth blossoms along your backside. Your arm squeezes tighter around your stuffed bunny as you blindly reach a hand behind you to cover your bottom. Joel was quick to grab your wrist to pin it at your lower back.

He doesn't fucking stop spanking you. Not even when his own handprint is starting to show on your skin. He grunts with every thwack of his hand across your sensitive flesh. The cries that are forced out of you were music to his ears. Your backside feels like it's on fire underneath his wide palm; he doesn't know when to stop or ease up. The frustration and irritation from earlier were slowly making their way into Joel's mind.

"Bad." Smack. "Bad." Smack. "Fuckin'." Smack. "Girl."

Joel grunts like an animal as the smacks happen in quick succession. You're wailing into the covers, feet kicking weakly as you try so desperately to wiggle away from him. He won't stop. The pain is indescribable. It burns so badly, throbbing non-stop and feeling like a million needles are being stabbed into your skin. Your throat hurts from your pain-filled wails that are muffled into your bedding.

He's panting heavily and sweating. Wiping a forearm across his forehead, Joel removes his hands from your body, tilting one hand to the side to observe your marked ass. His handprints are on your skin, clear as day. He can feel the blazing heat radiating from your backside. But again, he's not done with you yet. And he tells you just that.

"Quit your fuckin' whinin'," he orders, both hands lowering to his thick leather belt to undo it from the hoops of his jeans. "We're not done until I say we're done." He folds the leather and snaps it together, the resounding sound causing you to cry harder in the sheets.

You learned your lesson. You know that you've been a bad girl. You know this. But the words fail to emerge, your voice and mouth unable to coordinate effectively enough to communicate with Joel. A tumult of emotions rages through your violently trembling body: fear, confusion, intense pain, and fatigue.

Folded, thick leather smacking against tender, angry skin is what forces a scream to erupt from your throat. With your bunny discarded, both hands desperately grab at your bedsheets to pull you away from Joel and his offending belt. You can faintly hear him sucking his teeth before one of his hands roughly yanks you back down by the back collar of your dress.

"Cry as much as you want to, babydoll!" he shouts through your pained wails. Then, the belt strikes across your ass repeatedly. Joel was barely giving you time to breathe through your tears and dribbling snot and drool that slides down your chin. "Kick all you want! Daddy ain't stopping!"

He lowers the position of the belt so that he can strike the back of your thighs as well. You're sure that after tonight, you won't be able to sit or speak for a very long time, for your vocal cords are nearly shattered from how hard and loud you were screaming, and Joel's hands and belt are bruising your backside. You're wishing that this torture will end. You're wishing that Joel will stop and hold you while you cry in his arms like a blubbering baby. Stop. Stop. Stop.

"Stop!" You screamed and screamed, both hands desperately reaching back to cover your backside. Everything burns. Everything feels like it's on fire. The pain only intensified when Joel tossed his belt aside and resorted to the palm of his hand again. "Please, please, stop, p-please!" Your speech now slurred and unrecognizable from thick tears, your hands claw at Joel's wrist, his hand wrapped around both of your own wrists to pin at your lower back again.

Only then does Joel snap out of it.

He's breathing so heavy that an innocent bystander would think that he was having a panic attack. Joel looks down at his creation and finally pulls his hand off of your wrists. Your arms go limp at your sides; you don't even bother trying to cover yourself. He looks at your backside, his thumb gently wiping away some blood that dotted around broken skin that was caused by his belt. He hums thoughtfully, bringing his thumb to his lips and licking your blood from the tip. In a day or two, your ass was going to be badly bruised and marked, all thanks to him.

"Such a sweet girl," he whispers, leaning down to press his nose behind your ear and inhaling deeply. Your body violently shakes underneath his chest. His groin is crushed against your horribly bruised ass, the pressure of it making you cry weakly, all the energy suddenly drained from you once he stopped abusing your ass.

Glancing down at his hard cock, now thick and pressing uncomfortably into his thigh, Joel decided now would be a good time for you to make him feel good. Though he knows you're not up for it, he doesn't fucking care. A darkness lurks within his mind, akin to an alter ego that commandeers his body, a monster in its purest form. This other facet of him is sadistic, vicious, and relentless. With you, it's so easy to fall into this second body. It's addicting. He can't stop, even if he knows this is wrong.

With a hoarse grunt, Joel grabs the back of your arms and yanks you off the bed to drop you down onto your knees. With a hand under your chin to keep your face pointed up to him, his other hand unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down, along with his underwear. He pushes both offending fabrics mid-thigh, sighing with satiated relief when his cock slaps up, nearly poking you in the eye.

You could hardly pay attention. Your eyes were unfocused and hazy, swollen lips parted to inhale and exhale shakily. You were so deep in another world that Joel had to roughly shake your head to bring you back down the earth. Unsure of why you feel so dizzy, you tried focusing on the pain in your backside that was still throbbing relentlessly, the burning fire now sizzling into a numb sensation.

"Tongue out," Joel demands roughly as he holds your hair into a makeshift ponytail with one hand as the other holds the base of his cock to tap his leaking tip against your lips.

Hearing his order, you look up at him with tear-filled eyes and do as you're told. You don't even know what exactly you're doing, but all you can hear in your mind is be a good girl and listen to him. Your eyes almost cross as you get a better look of his cock, and they widen comically. God, Joel was really long and thick. You wondered if all men were this size. It was intimidating to look at. You don't know if even less than half could fit in your mouth, let alone inside of you. Joel observes the revelation in your eyes and drops his left into a wink.

"Careful with your teeth, baby," his voice was gruff and strained, his mushroomed tip throbbing against your lips as his heavy balls tighten from the warmth pooling intensely in his groin. "Yeah, just like that."

His praise was something that you desperately needed tonight. Forgetting about the unrelenting abuse you endured on your backside, you can make it up to him by showing you that yes, you really are a good girl, and you will listen to him and do what you're told.

When you take too long to give Joel what he wants, he decides to take charge in one way that he knows how. Both hands grab either side of your head, forcing it to stay still as he shoves half of his cock into your mouth. Your eyes widened and you sputtered sloppily around his dick, your hands frantically fisting his jeans at his thighs. He grunts and groans, sweat pooling behind his neck and sliding down the line of his back.

"Goddamn," he hissed under his breath, moving his hips forward and back to start fucking your mouth with a brutal pace that has his balls slapping against your wet chin. "Born natural, ain't ya?"

Coughing and choking around his cock, you gagged and dry heaved as his thickness fills your mouth repeatedly. Spit dribbles down your chin and slides down your chest as you bite back the bile pooling in the back of your throat. Joel's breathing stutters for a split second at the sight below him. Your lips were obscenely stretched around his girth, eyes wide and glassy with thick tears just waiting to spill over. The sloppy, wet noises coming from your mouth nearly made him bust right in your mouth.

"Let me try somethin'," Joel mumbles to himself before roughly grabbing the back of your head and forcing your head all the way down until your nose and lips were crushed against his dark public hair. The contractions of your throat squeezing around his cock has him moaning gruffly at the ceiling, his head thrown back, Adam's apple bobbing in time with each moan that comes out.

Taking advantage of Joel's lax state, your nails dig into the thick meat of his thighs to push yourself off of him. His cock slips from your lips, strings of spit connecting from the enlarged tip to your puffy lips. You're coughing and dry heaving, your throat burning terribly. Joel looks down and grins wolfishly.

His hand languidly strokes his soaking cock. The sight of you struggling from his size was an image he wanted to engrave in his mind so he can watch it over and over again. He liked seeing you struggle. Hell, he fucking craves to see it again. Without giving you any time to prepare, he grabs the back of your head to force you down onto his cock once more.

The sopping wet choking sounds that are emitting from your throat are driving him insane. He wonders what would happen if he just...

Both hands roughly grab your head to yank you down until his cock goes down your throat again. This time, he keeps you there for a few, long, grueling seconds. You're sputtering wildly, eyes wide with terror as tears spill over your waterline. Your fists are weakly punching at his thighs, and you try to pull your head back, but Joel only crushes your head harder into his pelvis until your nose is pressed so deep into his pubic hair.

Joel grunts like a wild beast. "Just like that. Fuckin' choke on it." He sees your lashes flutter weakly, your eyes half-lidded and rolling into the back of your head. The lack of oxygen to your brain has your heart slowing dramatically. This is your death. Yeah, this is definitely how you're going to die: choking on Joel Miller's dick, also your mom's husband.

Suddenly, your head is pulled off and you're gasping for air like it's the last thing on earth. Your head is spinning and you're doubling over until your forehead is almost touching Joel's boots. Your throat burns and you can barely feel your tongue. This wasn't supposed to be happening. This is all your fault. You deserve this punishment. Bad girl. Bad, bad, bad girl. Slowly rocking yourself back and forth, you sniffle softly and take a weak glance up at him. A shadow almost casts over your face from where you kneeled, his long cock perfectly aligned below the ceiling light.

Joel bends down to lift you higher on your knees. His big hands gently hold your cheeks, and your eyes shut as this is the first tender touch you've felt in hours. You savor this moment, sniffling again and licking your bottom lip. Joel smiles sweetly, lowering his head to kiss your forehead, nose, and then your lips. A sweet little whimper reverberates against his lips. When he pulls away, he quietly instructs you to open your eyes, babydoll.

When you do, you're met with sweet, nice, tender Joel again. Have you really made it to the end of your punishment? Are you his good girl again? Is this really it? The moment doesn't last long. The smile on Joel's face vanishes gradually slowly. There's a sick feeling that returns back inside your stomach. This is going to be never-ending. This is your well-deserved punishment. Pain, pain, pain.

When Joel purses his lips, you flinch when a wad of spit lands on across the bridge of your nose and slides down your cheeks prettily. Your eyes open and your mouth drops. This was the most demeaning thing for him to do. Spitting on your face is a clear indication that you're nothing more than a personal toy for Joel to use. This whole entire night was of him showing you what you mean to him. The thought added a crack to your heart. All you ever wanted was to be good.

Joel's fingers filthily rub his spit all over your face, a crude smile on his face as he does so. His middle and index fingers are shoved into your mouth, the pads of his fingertips covered in his slick and are now laying against your wiggly tongue. "There we go," he breathes out, gently prodding his fingers further down your throat until they brush against your uvula, causing you to gag and sputter.

You barely have enough time to react before he's yanking his fingers from your mouth and landing a smack to your cheek. It almost sends you flying to the side if it weren't for his hand holding onto the other side of your face. Joel hushes you quietly when your eyes shut tightly, fire spreading across your face.

"This is for your own good, babydoll," he whispers against your forehead, pulling away to pop your cheek again, and then landing another smack to your other cheek. He shushes your pained cries again, giving you a messy, tongue-filled kiss. You can't stop crying against his mouth, snot, spit, and tears all over your face. The anguish won't diminish. It gets stronger and stronger the more Joel breaks you apart little by little.

His hands curl into your hair, tightening into fists and yanking your head back a few inches from his face. His eyes darken as he sees the fear in your beautifully broken eyes. He spits on your face once more, trailing his eyes over the artistic splatter across your nose and cheeks. His cock, still rock hard and soaking wet, hangs out of his jeans.

Joel is a patient man. In due time, you and he will finally become one. Whether you liked it or not, you were his--his to use, his to play with, his to destroy. You don't have a voice anymore. Joel Miller broke you apart with his bare hands and left you scrabbling to pick up the pieces.

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moonchildstyles · 7 months

Note

rosemary harry deserves to get his dick sucked! there! i said it!

wordcount: 6.4k+

—————

"'S okay, Rosie. We're almost inside."

Keeping his little cat tucked to his chest, Harry fumbled with the small peach tinted key on his ring. His still damp hair had begun to curl dry under the crisp morning air, his kitten surely feeling the same chill. Finally pushing open the door and stepping over the threshold, Harry did his best to stay as quiet as possible since (Y/N) was no doubt sleeping through her morning off.

Placing Rosemary on the ground, she tottered right past him and into the kitchen where (Y/N) had set up a small station of food and water for her since she visited so often. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched her tail flick behind her, lagging behind as he locked the front door. Kicking off his shoes under her foyer table, he hiked his duffle full of extra clothes higher up his shoulder before moving out of the small alcove housing her front door.

He intended to head straight for (Y/N)'s bedroom, eager to curl up with her and spend a quiet morning at her side after his long night, though he stopped in his tracks as he passed by what he had thought would be an empty living room.

Curled up on the plush green suede of her couch, (Y/N) was bundled in a knitted white blanket with tired eyes and a mug of something warm in her hands.

"Hi," she smiled at him, features lighting up some as she took him in.

"Hi, peach," he crooned, dropping his bag on her foyer table before stepping towards her with a pout on his lips, "I told y'not to wake up early for me—'s your day off."

"I know," she smiled, unperturbed by his gentle scolding, "But I wanted to see you—and Rosie. I also wanted to have breakfast with you, so."

Harry's shoulders dropped, the tense set to his bones settling as he listened to her. He could never be upset with her, not even for a second—especially not for something he would do for her. He missed her very much over the night, so he couldn't say he was very disappointed in getting to see her smiling face this early.

"We'll take a nap after we're done eating, then," he decided, nodding his head as if to set the plans in stone, "Thank you, peach."

Stretching from her spot on the couch, she left the blanket a puddle on the couch with her mug still warming her hands. "Of course," she smiled at him, "I have everything already in the kitchen, so we can just eat then lay down."

As much as he loved cooking with her, the idea of having warm food ready for him had his chest warming. He'd do the dishes today, he decided, his small thank you to her.

Taking her hand in his, Harry followed after his peach into her small kitchen. Still sitting at her mat, Rosemary was cleaning her small bowl of food as if she were starved (and she wasn't. Harry had even given her a scoop of her favorite wet food while he showered, so she shouldn't be this hungry).

"Hi, cutie," (Y/N) cooed to the cat, dropping to a crouch beside her while Harry went ahead without her.

Already doled out and portioned was their simple breakfast of fluffy eggs and hashbrowns with plenty of cheese atop them. Peeking at the sink to see a couple of pans and utensils sitting inside the basin, Harry decided he would let her get to sleep then he would be taking care of that for her.

"Everything looks alright?" (Y/N) asked, standing to the full of her height with Rosie circling her feet with a twitching tail.

"Looks really good, love," Harry commended, an easy smile touching his lips, dimples dotting his cheeks.

Harry led the charge this time, heading towards her living room where he intended to cuddle up with her and share warmth under her blanket. Rosemary had followed them out, picking her own spot on a folded blanket on (Y/N)'s armchair she chose every time over the plush bed by the television. Settling on the cushions, Harry draped the knitted blanket around his and (Y/N)'s shoulders as she sunk into his side.

"How was work?" she asked, taking the first bite of her cheesy eggs.

"It was alright. Long," he sighed, exhausted just thinking about the hours he spent at the grocery store. He had been thinking about switching to days since everything settled down, but he didn't like the idea of leaving behind the overnight crew he was beginning to grow comfortable with. Plus, he still wasn't that big a fan of strangers, so he wasn't too into the idea of being surrounded by them all shift long. "'M thinking about picking up one of Theo's shifts next week."

(Y/N)'s lips slanted into a precursory frown. "If you don't want to, you don't have to, H. You've been working a lot, lately."

He shrugged, picking up a bite of his hashbrowns. "I know, but I want to save as much as I can before I move. The apartment I was looking at, the rent went up another hundred per month again."

A beat of silence settled between them for a moment. "You know," (Y/N) started, the tone of her voice familiar enough that Harry knew exactly where she was going, "You don't have to find a new place if you don't want to—you can just come here, instead. It's not like we haven't pretty much lived together already."

Peeking up at her, he caught (Y/N)'s theatrical smile, big and bright on her features as her own form of small persuasion. She always gave him that look when she brought up this subject.

"I know," he said, the same thing he always started with, "Let me think about it, peach."

A part of him wanted to see if he could cut it by himself without using the methods he was used to, but, as (Y/N) had reminded him once, he'd done this whole thing by himself for a very long time—and his shortcuts often made things harder on himself than he cared to admit. He didn't have to be alone anymore, he had her.

(There was also a whole thing he was still fighting off, the feeling of being a burden on her and taking things that shouldn't be given. That was also something he was trying to work on, even if a bit fruitlessly).

"What did y'do this morning while y'waited?" Harry asked, attempting to steer the conversation elsewhere.

Swallowing down a bite of her breakfast, (Y/N) shrugged. "I started some laundry, but I was too tired to fold everything so I just made breakfast and then sat down. I had the weirdest dreams last night, though."

"Yeah?" Harry smiled, looking at her with raised brows, "What were they?"

With that, (Y/N) launched into a vivid description of her latest dreamscape. Harry listened intently to every turn her story took, forgetting about his food at points in favor of listening to what she had to say. It wasn't necessarily the nonsensical dream that had him so entertained, it was the way she told it. He still reveled in learning her mannerisms, the gestures that made her who she was. There was always something new he could glean just by listening to her.

Before long, empty plates sat before them and the knitted blanket draped over their shoulders had morphed into a cocoon. Harry curled (Y/N) into his lap, draping her legs over his thighs with his arm wrapped around her back to keep her tucked into his side. She talked to him about the shift she'd had the night before and the book she had finally ordered, and any little thing Harry could get out of her. (Y/N) didn't mind doing the talking, more than happy to have him be her listener, though he was still learning that it was okay to have a listener, too.

The sun was beginning to paint the sky a warm orange over the horizon by the time (Y/N) settled into Harry's chest, her head on his shoulder. The blanket was warm around their forms, reflecting heat back. Harry had it tucked up high under (Y/N)'s chin, allowing her to melt back into the sleep-sodden state he'd found her in.

A companionable silence settled over them, leaving Harry's own eyes to shutter in contentment. Huddled under the fleecey blanket, sharing warmth with her, he allowed his hands to wander over her pliant form.

His hand on her back made spanning circles over the planes, the pads of his fingers skimming the bumps of her spine and cradle of her ribs. She was still awake, that much he could tell, but her breathing was an even pace he could feel both under his hand and the puffs against his shoulder. Skating over her form, his hand landed on the curve of her waist, reuniting with the familiar softness with denting fingertips.

Without meaning to, his subtle squeeze had (Y/N) jumping in his lap, a huff of laughter pluming from her lips.

"Sorry," Harry murmured, dropping an apologetic kiss to the top of her head.

(Y/N) snuggled closer in response, his mistake forgiven. Leaving his hand still on her waist, he instead focused on the span of thigh under his left hand.

He had previously pressed his palm into her hip when she had swung her legs into his lap, though now he grazed his touch over the plush of her thigh. Despite the chill in the air and the handful of times she complained about the cold while snuggling into bed, she still couldn't seem to ditch her sleep shorts, leaving a length of her bare skin on display. He worked a soothing circuit over the skin, the blunt of his nails dragging along here and there as he felt goosebumps prickle over the surface.

She keened into his touch, pressing her body that much closer to his own. The soft contours that made up her form reflected against the hard angles of his own, sharing their warmth under the knitted blanket. All night he had missed this.

The last time he had seen her was two mornings ago, just before she had left for her shift at the bakery. It was a quick goodbye, Harry blinking awake just enough to catch her lips in a quick kiss before she was telling him she'd see him later and that she loved him. He didn't sleep much after that, barely dozing in and out of restless dreams before he deigned himself into properly waking and heading home to ready for his own shift. He had missed her, missed the warmth of her touch, the caress of her voice, the wisp of her presence.

To have her now was both exhilarating and relieving. He wanted to stay awake so he didn't miss a single second with her, even if it meant only watching her sleep. But seeing her so relaxed and feeling her melt against him comforted him into his own contented state, as if tonight would be the night he would float away on his own pleasant dreams.

Harry kept running his hands over her body, soothing himself with the plush of her skin and the line of her form. Maybe it was the feel of her warmth, the safety under the quilt with her, or even the feel of the huffs of her breath against his neck, but before he even realized, he felt a stirring in his lap. Under the pillows of her thighs, his cock was much more awake than the rest of him, suddenly piquing to attention with her as his target.

Folding his bottom lip between his teeth, Harry attempted to shift under her in hopes of concealing the stray effect her presence was having on him (truly, he couldn't be too surprised. He'd gone years without any kind of physical relationship with anyone other than himself, and now he felt like a teenager again, aching every time he caught a whiff of her attention). He was sure her cuddling was not something she expected to entice him, especially given how close she was to edging on falling asleep in his arms.

In an attempt to keep himself in check, he stilled his wandering hands, keeping them stationary on the outside of her knee and the safety of her waist. He would hate for her to think he was taking advantage of their position when this was supposed to be a tender morning together after she went out of her way to welcome him home.

Shifting his hips, he tried to gently remove his lower half from the warm body without disturbing her, or landing in an awkward position.

"Where are you going?" (Y/N) grumbled when his movement didn't stop, her arms clinging to his neck.

Harry figured he might be more intoxicated than he thought when just the glaze of her voice was enough to have the muscles in his thighs tensing. His mind immediately went to a different place, remembering all of the breathless words he'd heard wrapped in that voice and the many he still wanted to hear.

"Nowhere, jus'—" he strained, finding a less than comfortable position with his tailbone low on the cushion and his back stretched long, "getting comfortable."

"Oh," she sounded, waking some as she peeked her head up, "I can move if you need me to."

Before Harry had a chance to stop her, tightening his hold on her, she was shifting herself on his lap following the way he was sprawling out. Soon enough, he could feel the plush of her thighs brushing against the familiar hardness in his lap, something that had her stopping in her own movement for a breath.

He loosened his hold on her then, allowing her space if she wanted off of him. "Peach," he started after a beat, sighing out the pet name.

Popping out of her hiding place against his neck, (Y/N) looked to him with still sleepy eyes though they were definitely brighter than he would have guessed given how close to sleep she had been.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Blinking, Harry matched her eye contact. She looked to him with a pair of pinched brows and a clear gaze, no hesitancy behind her perplexing question.

That was not the kind of reaction he had thought he would garner. Extra information was not one of the routes he saw this conversation needing.

"I—" he started, cutting himself off a syllable later, "We... We're cuddling, peach. I didn't want to ruin the morning. You're too tired, anyway."

As she listened, Harry got a view of the soft smile that took over her features, lighting up the sleepy corners of her eyes.

"I'm not too tired for you," she crooned, her voice quiet for just the two of them. Dipping her head down, (Y/N) pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth, the tip of her nose skimming his cheek. "You worked hard last night—you deserve something nice."

A heavy blink weighed down his eyelids as he lent into her kiss, cock stirring in his lap. Was he always this easy to get turned on? Or was it just (Y/N) who knew how to push all of his buttons so perfectly?

Dropping his head back against the backing couch cushion, Harry allowed (Y/N) to shower him in her kisses, his mouth in a soft gape. He could feel her gentle smile with every planted kiss against his skin, touching down his neck and over his cheeks and nose. Every bit of his skin she could reach was warmed with her kiss.

One of her hands on his shoulder drifted down, grazing over the blocks of muscle that made up his chest and abdomen, she trailed down until she hit his lap and the bulge that rested between his thighs. His lungs stunted at the soft pressure she applied.

"(Y/N)," he started, voice strained as he blinked his eyes open to match hers, "Y'really don't have to. I know you're tired."

Canting her head, she chanced a glance down towards his lap before she floated her hand away to sit on the middle of his abdomen. "I'm okay, though," she reminded him, looking more awake every time she insisted, "But, if you're too tired, we can go to my room and cuddle instead."

Folding his bottom lip between his teeth, Harry scanned his eyes over her features. There was no way he was going to turn her down in favor of sleeping, especially if she was offering so earnestly.

"'M awake, if you are," he murmured, matching her eyes with his own intensity.

Her smile was too cute, Harry decided, for a moment like this—negotiating over sex. "I think I'm a little too tired for everything, but I've been wanting to do something else for you if it's alright."

Harry's head swirled with whatever this something else was that she had in mind. "Whatever y'want to do, peach. I'll take anything y'want to give me."

(Y/N) dropped a short kiss on his lips, looking a bit too excited before she began slipping down his body with a chirped Good! falling from her lips.

Instinctively, Harry wanted to curl his fingers around her body, keep her where she was against his chest, where she was keeping him warm. Still, he refrained, allowing her to coast down his form until she was settled on the floor between his legs, her knees tucked underneath her with the blanket draped around her shoulders (sneaky thing took the blanket with her before he even had a chance to notice).

His heart thumping in his chest, Harry took in the sight of her on her knees before him. Her eyes suddenly appeared wider, lashes fuller, cheeks warmer. He's never seen her like this before, never had the privilege of having her knelt before him though he had a muscle-squeezing idea of where this may be going.

Spreading his thighs that much more, (Y/N) shuffled between them until she was fit against the edge of the couch with his knees on either side of her. Reaching out, he passed a hand through her hair.

"You're so pretty, peach. You know that?" he murmured, affection dripping from his tender words.

She turned bashful under his praise, resting her head on the inside of his thigh as she gazed up at him. "Thank you," she told him through a small smile, "Is it okay if I try this? I know we've never really talked about it, but I've been thinking about it a lot lately."

Attempting to not get sidetracked over the idea of (Y/N) thinking about having his cock in her mouth—a lot, too—, he kept his focus on the way she looked up at him. A lopsided smile quirked up the corner of his lip.

"You think I would ever say no to that, peach? Or you, for that matter?"

A plume of laughter fell from her lips. From how close she was, with her head pillowed against his leg, Harry could feel that puff against his sweats. He wondered if she felt the way his muscles squeezed under her cheek.

"Just wanted to check, that's all," she prattled, lifting her head from his thigh with her hands reaching towards the waist of his sweats.

With Harry's help lifting his hips, she was able to hook her fingers in the band of his sweats and briefs, pulling the pair down until they rested on the mid of his thighs and his cock had bobbed against his stomach. A shiver tickled his spine now that he was exposed to the chilly air of her home, though he doubted that was the same reason as to why goosebumps touched his skin.

When (Y/N) took him into her hand a moment later, her eyes trained on his ruddy, leaking cock while his own eyes fought against a fluttery blink, Harry's breath hitched. The hand that had been gently petting back her hair turned a hair firmer, reaching to gather the strands on the back of her neck.

"I wish you had told me earlier you were feeling like this," she spoke without lifting her eyes from her hand, "I would have helped you instead of almost falling asleep."

He wasn't even sure if she was intending to be as sexy as she sounded then, his breath stuttering at the feel of her hand pumping around his length with her voice swirling around him.

"'M sorry, love," he sighed, "Thought y'would be too tired."

She shrugged as if this was nothing, Harry having to bite back a smile as he watched on. "I don't mind. I'd rather suck you off than go to sleep, honestly."

At that, there was no way he could pull back the shuddering moan that tumbled from his mouth. A string of precum pearled at his tip only to be wiped away by (Y/N) as she collected it to help slick her strokes.

Nails grazing her scalp, he tipped his head as he watched his love admire his cock the way he admired her. "You're so good to me, peach. 'M so lucky, you know?"

A brilliant smile on her face, she glanced up at him with a frame of fluttering lashes around her eyes. "You deserve it, honey."

There was something else he was going to say, most likely another praise about how perfect she was for no other reason than he loved her and she had his prick in her hand, but that all went down the drain as soon as she lent forward and pressed her lips to the crown. Her lips were warm and soft, slick with the precum gathering on his tip.

It was the way she fluttered her eyes closed, her lips puckered and sweet, looking just the way she did when she kissed him, that had him almost melting into the cushions. She was kissing on his cock the way she did his lips—with affection and something all too soft for an act like this.

He could only watch breathlessly as she held his shaft in a snug fist, tipping her chin and tilting her head with every smeared kiss along his head. If this was already making his stomach jump and lungs squeeze, he feared to think just how long he'd last once she gave him more than a few kisses.

With hooded eyes, (Y/N) blinked up at him just before he felt the tip of her tongue gliding out from between her lips. The fan of her breath rolled across his sensitive skin, chilling the newly slicked path from her tongue had his blood pounding through his veins. His hand gripping her hair pulsed, subconsciously keeping her right where she was.

"Fuck," he breathed, feeling a flush creep up his chest and along the column of his throat.

Though he felt her hand pulse around his length, she didn't let him distract her. Instead, the swift licks she gave graduated to long laves when she shifted to drag the flat of her tongue along the underside of his cock. A sheen of spit covered her lips and sparkled on her chin with every lick as Harry's breathing labored above her.

His eyes followed her every move with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as she began pumping her fist across his now slick length once more before she pursed her lips against his tip. His chest constricted when he saw a string of saliva drop from her lips, sliding down the ridge of his tip, though his breath was cut off when she took him into her mouth.

With her hand still working his shaft, she sucked on his head. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive ridge, Harry's hips bucking against her mouth without permission.

"S-Sorry," he breathed out when he saw her rear back.

"It's okay—just wasn't ready," she murmured through a thick throat. Drawing her eyes away from where her hand was pumping over his length in the absence of her mouth, she told him, "You can—um—do it again, if you want. I'll be expecting it now, so."

There was a part of him that wanted to fawn over her nervous delivery; how sweet could she be with the taste of him on her tongue and kisses warming his cock? It was hardly fair to feel a flutter in his chest when he was already hard over her.

The rest of him, though, was definitively stuck on the fact that she had invited him to lift his hips into her face. She hadn't been ready before, but she was now and didn't have a single qualm about him pressing into her mouth the same way he sunk into her pussy.

His hand in her hair traveled through the strands until he landed on the back of her neck, his palm becoming a cuff pressed against the nape.

"You're alright with that, love?" he pressed, his hand clenching when she gave a particularly tight drag of her hand over his length. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she assured him, "I trust you."

He wanted to say more but there was nothing left for him to choke out when she dipped her head down and took him back into her mouth. Her lips were split wide around his tip as she inched more of him down before stopping with a short gag. When she found her stopping point, she dragged her tongue around the underside, outlining the strong vein that roped around his length. She bobbed her head some, taking his tip to the back of her throat in a teasing squeeze over and over. Whatever she couldn't reach was taken care of by her hand, her fingers tight around his girth.

"Jes—fuck—Peach," he choked out, his hand on the back of her neck a heavy weight as he watched his wet dream play out in front of him.

She kept her focus on her task, ignoring his calling of her pet name, with her free hand coming to rest on his thigh. The blunt of her nails pressed into the flesh, becoming points of clarity against the rushing in his ears.

Her earlier suggestion rang in his head. She had shown him her limits—just how far she was able to take him down before she would need to rear back and breathe, and the pacing that felt comfortable for her.

He could be careful. He could take care of her, and give himself what he wanted. Give himself what he had dreamt of more than once in the middle of the night.

With her so close to him, it wasn't hard to solidify his grip on the back of her neck. She paused when she felt the weight, curling her mouth around his leaking tip. All it took was a watery glance up at him through her lashes when Harry allowed a moment of his inhibitions to drift.

Keeping her steady over his lap, he pushed his hips upwards, his cock sinking into her mouth in one fluid motion. The channel of her throat tightened as he pulled her head to meet him halfway, telling him when to stop before she would gag around him. The silky warmth had him shuddering in his spot, his free hand now fisting the throw pillow at his side.

"Shit, (Y/N)," he panted, his mouth in an open gape as he watched her sink over him. Her hand on his thigh was warm and piercing.

Rearing back, Harry found a rhythm as he thrusted his hips forward into her mouth once more. Her tongue skated around his length with her hand clumsily pumping where he didn't dare to push her. With her lips stretched around him, her saliva began to drop down his cock, landing in the thatch of hair at his base. The band of his low sweatpants shifted against his balls, an unexpected jolt hitting his stomach every time he pulled away from her mouth.

A stream of moans, grumbling whines, and calls of her name permeated her living room. Through the cracks in her curtains, sunlight spilled into (Y/N)'s home, rays catching the blanket huddled form that was her sitting between his legs. Stray hairs haloing her head were highlighted by the sunlight, plating them in gold through his rose-colored lenses.

With the way he was fucking into her throat, rearing his hips back once he hit the seal only to sink his length inside once more, it felt entirely out of place to feel especially sentimental gazing down at her. Maybe it was the long night of work, the buttery morning, or the fact that this was the first time he'd been sucked off in years, but had he ever been more in love?

If the slick of her mouth and writhing of her tongue wasn't enough, when a delicate moan slipped out of her throat and vibrated around his prick, Harry could feel the spiral hiding behind his abs tighten into something unbearable.

"Fuck—I'm—You're," he stammered, the pacing of his hips beginning to falter with a pinch appearing between his brows and his throat growing thick, "'M gonna cum, peach—shit."

The peek he saw of her eyes through her lashes was one he wouldn't forget. There was a wet sheen to her gaze from the amount of times he prodded at her boundaries, pushing the tip of his cock just that much further into her throat. Her lips were slicked with spit, the very corner of her mouth sporting a pearly dot of his precum, with her skin warm on the back of her neck. His hips stuttered thinking about the fact that he had been the one to get her like that this morning.

Her hand pumped the remainder of his length quickened, the fist tight. She stroked over him in tandem with the pacing of his hips, meeting him halfway. His breaths were nothing more than uneven puffs falling from strained lungs.

"C-Can I cum in your mouth, peach?" he panted, the words rushing out before he had any real thought behind them, "Or do y'want me to st—"

Before he had a chance to finish she let out a delicate moan, her lips tight around the stretch of his girth. Her choice was clear, seeing as she didn't stop him from pushing through her pursed lips or drawing away against the weight of his hand.

Though it felt a bit pathetic, just how easy he was, that was somehow all he needed before he felt the first surge of release. His hips stuttered, (Y/N)'s own hand struggling in her pacing when the first rope hit the back of her throat. He felt his muscles tense, his abdomen hard and his thigh bunched tight under her hand. His mouth was in a gape as he fought to keep his eyes open with every pulse of his cock leaking more cum into the back of her throat.

He wanted to watch as he came into her mouth, he wanted to see her face. His hand on the back of her neck loosened as he felt into the moment. He swore there was a haze that drifted through her home at that moment. There was nothing but static touching his skin—and (Y/N).

By the time the cloudy haze and the electricity faded, Harry's muscles unclenched as he sank back into the couch. (Y/N)'s mouth was still warm around his cock, though her grip had fallen away in the fray. His eyelids felt heavy as he gazed at her, luxuriated in the feel of her cleaning him up as the final ropes fell from his tip.

When it all became too much, Harry feeling too sensitive for any more, he used that grip on the back of her neck to draw her away from him. She went pliantly wherever he wanted her, disconnecting from his cock with a soft pop and a lingering string of saliva that evenly bowed and broke to land on her chin.

Harry's hand on her neck shifted to trail through her hair, a decidedly gentler touch than what he was sure he was giving her in the heat of the moment. He pet back the errant strands, displaying her face for him in the rising sunshine. Once again, he couldn't be sure if it was the way the light fell on her face, the soft set of her features, or the fact he had just orgasmed harder than he knew could happen before eight a.m., but he'd never seen anything so pretty.

Her eyes glimmered with stray tears, her skin warm and dewy with sweat. Her lips were swollen and slick, her hair a little bit of a mess thanks to him. If he wasn't already spent, growing limp, he would have had to take her again if for no other reason than to show her just how beautiful he thought she was.

"C'mere, peach," he murmured, his voice sunken in his throat, "Let me kiss you."

Though she didn't waste any time crawling back into his lap, (Y/N) took a moment to pull his pants back up his thighs and tuck his sensitive cock away before she was straddling his hips. Opening his arms, (Y/N) fell into his chest with her own arms looping around his neck.

It was an affection hug he pulled her into first, his face burrowing into her neck with his nose skimming her hairline. He pulled in her scent in a thick inhale, pulsing his arms around her. The blanket she had stolen in the first place was now draped around their snuggled position once more, layering around them as if there was any more privacy to be had in the middle of her empty house.

She was the first to begin drawing away, but Harry caught her lips before she had a chance to utter anything through her perfect, perfect, perfect mouth (maybe he hadn't come down completely, just yet). He pressed a soft kiss to her top lip before he took it between his two, getting a taste of her lips when he parted his own. He didn't mind that he could still taste the traces of himself, too caught up in the fact that she wanted that taste of him in the first place. The pads of his fingers pressed into the small of her back, keeping her cuddled to his chest as he tilted his head and tipped his chin this way and that.

"I love you," he breathed against her mouth, parting just far enough away for the words to slip through.

A gentle laugh dripped from her lips coloring his own though he didn't interrupt his kissing. "I can't imagine why you'd be saying that right now, after what just happened."

He knew she was teasing, attempting to play with him some after their intimacy, but he didn't have it in him to go along. "I mean it," he insisted, sounding a touch more desperate than he meant to let on, "I love you so much. Everything about you."

Pulling far enough away to rest her forehead on his, Harry was forced to blink his eyes open and keep himself from following after her kiss. Her gaze was soft, a fond depth swimming in her irises.

"Harry," she started, the pillows of her lips grazing against his own, "I love you, too. Don't sound so sad."

"'M not sad," he answered in a rush, "'M happy—so happy. You're so perfect, and 'm so lucky, and I love you."

That fondness in her eyes landed on her lips, stretching them into a soft smile that Harry wanted to get a full view of but didn't want to draw any further away to see. "I love you, too," she declared, granting mercy on him and tipping her chin to press a single kiss to his waiting mouth, "You're perfect, and I'm the lucky one."

There was the immediate instinct to argue with her, remind her of who he was before her, but he refrained. It was something he was working on—accepting her love and kind words—, and he didn't want to ruin the moment by denying her feelings for him.

"Thank you," he answered simply, giving a loving kiss to the full of her lips as a way to seal his.

(Y/N) reciprocated with a press of her own, surely aware of what was going on in his head. Pulling away from him, she began crawling out of his lap despite the hold he had around her middle. "You're welcome," she smiled, a hint of pride in the corners, "I think—if you're not too awake now—that we should nap for the rest of the morning. In my room, too, so we can actually cuddle."

Scanning over her features now, he could still see that sleep tinge to her face; a slight crease to her eyes and the sloping of her shoulders. She had been the one half asleep in the first place, and she ended up being the one that did the most work in the end—she deserved to sleep her morning away.

Plus, he still needed to do her dishes while she slept. Especially after what she just did for him.

"That sounds really nice, peach," he settled on, allowing her a glimpse at his dimples when he gazed up at her.

Muttering a quiet, chittering C'mon, then, Harry gave her his hand to drag him back to her bedroom. The throw blanket she had claimed for herself trailed behind her as he followed. The smile on his face had no plans of slipping away as he watched her pad towards her bedroom, socked feet and her blanket covered body too cute for her own good.

A quiet pattering sounded behind him. Harry felt his chest plummet towards his stomach before he even chanced a look over his shoulder.

Reluctantly, he turned his head just to see Rosemary following after them on her quiet feet. Her tail flicked high in the air, her ears at attention as she looked up at him with her moon eyes.

God, he really hoped she hadn't just seen what happened.

—————

anon ur right he does deserve this!!! thank u for requesting!!! thank u to everyone for reading and so sorry for any mistakes! if you have any ideas of your own please send them in!

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whorekneecentral · 9 months

Text

Family's Growing

Kylian Mbappe x Fem!Reader

Warnings: kylian has baby fever, dirty thoughts, baby talk, breeding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, penetrative sex (p in v), breeding/pregnancy kink goes burrrr, daddy used in a sexual context, begging, creampies, finger fucking and sucking lol, cum play.

Word Count: 1,615

Author's Note: okay I'm finally back on track with these - yes I know Tuesday is over but please look past that lol.

merry smutmas series

Kylian finds himself swooning over how good you are with his niece and nephew, the thought of having a family with you spins around his head.

Christmas was a time for family and that seemed to be the only thing on your boyfriend's mind.

The two of you had gone over to his parents' place for Christmas dinner, all of his cousins were there as well as their kids. Kylian was not the favourite uncle for no reason, all of them knew they were getting good gifts in bountiful amounts too.

The tree in the living room that was once full with presents were now opened, the floor covered in wrapping paper. It was only two kids, his cousin's son and daughter, and Ethan if you counted him as well; and yet, it seemed like Kylian had bought the entirety of Paris for them.

Kylian watches as you lay on the floor with his niece and nephew, the three of you putting together a tower made of legos, whispering and giggling as you built the tower.

He smiles to himself as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. A part of him isn't sure what he did to be so lucky, to have a career as great as his and to have a girlfriend who's so loving and kind and supportive. You loved his family like your own, right now was a prime example.

Seeing you with kids always did something for him, you had a maternal nature about you, anyone who met you could see that.

The thought crossed his mind many times, how nice it would be to start a family with you. You two had spoken about it ages ago, when you began dating. You both decided that you'd revisit the idea when you were more stable in life and that you were now. Both you and Kylian were stable in careers, you two lived together, you had been together for a while and you had the means to raise a child.

He couldn't see where it would be a no.

As much as he wanted a kid with you, the idea of making a kid was much more appealing.

Clothes on the floor, hands all over each other, watching as you begged him to cu- "You okay?" Ethan asks his older brother, breaking his thought.

Kylian clears his throat. "Yeah," he nods, a smile on his face as you glance over your shoulder at him.

"They love her," Ethan nods towards you with the kids, "y/n's always been good with them."

"She was good with you too," Kylian teased his brother. You two had begun dating just before his World Cup win, the two of you barely 18 years old and Ethan was 12 - still a child in his brother's eyes and he always will be.

Ethan rolls his eyes at his brother's comment.

After some time, the kids started to get tired which was their parents' signal to head out. You and Kylian left not too shortly after that as well.

Your boyfriend finds you in the kitchen after he changes for bed, his arms wrapped around you from behind whilst your elbows propped on the counter as you waited for the kettle to boil.

"Something on your mind, baby?" You asked him, twirling the string attached to your tea bag.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

Kylian hums. "Kids."

His answer catches you off guard, you turn to face the man with a confused look on your face. "Kids?"

He shrugs, smiling. "Seeing you with the little ones today, I don't know - it got me thinking. It'd be nice to have our own, don't you think?" His hand rests on your hip, thumb disappearing under the hem of your shirt.

A glance at your boyfriend's hand, your eyebrows raised. "Do you really mean having kids or making kids?"

You can't help the laugh, kissing your boyfriend. The man wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. Kylian picks you up, holding you tightly as he kisses you and carries you over to the couch.

Kylian puts you down, sitting on the couch for a moment as he looks at you. You take that as your sign to undress.

The silk shorts sliding down your smooth legs, pooling by your ankles before you step out of them, you pull off the tank top and that leaves you in the blue set he loves. You reach behind to unhook your bra but Kylian stops you, “leave it on.”

He pulls you by your waist back to him, his hand slipping down to rest on your ass before giving it a smack. You’re quiet, looking down at your boyfriend on the couch.

He puts you to lay on the couch, he’s sat between your legs with one on either side of him. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him and Kylian drags his fingers up your thigh, moving to your clothed pussy.

“I like this,” he tells you, fingers rubbing over the blue lace.

You smile, “I know.”

He pulls the panties to the side, his eyes fixed on your pussy. He gives you no warning, pushing his fingers into you. The sound leaving your mouth was like heaven on earth to him.

Kylian's fingers curl upwards, your back arching at the feeling.

“Keeks, please.” your hand reaches down to wrap on his wrist but he swats your hand away, managing to pull both to rest on your stomach and his free hand over your hands, pinning them to your stomach.

You try to wiggle your hands away from him, trying to grab on something. “Behave.” He tells you, adding another finger.

Your face twists, pleasure all across it and our hands stop wiggling, he smiles, satisfied.

Kylian can feel it; he knows you’re close, you’re squeezing on his fingers, your thighs trying to close, trying to squirm away from the pleasure.

He can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the blue lace you’re wrapped up in and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. He shifts to lay on his stomach between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt.

Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking. He wants you to look at him.

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair.

Kylian knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more, he gives in.

"Please," you whimpered.

"What, mon ange ? Tell me."

You look at the man between your legs. "Fuck me."

There was no hidden meaning behind it; no scolding, no need to hurry him up - you wanted him and that was it.

“Gonna let me fill you up princess? Hm?” He asks, shifting to line himself up with your cunt. You nodded eagerly, your leg hitching on his hip.

At this point, you can’t do much except lay there and take it; not that you don’t want to because you do, you really do.

The tip of his cock brushing over your clit before moving to push into you. Your back arches, hips jutting forward to meet his.

Hard and rough, not enough to hurt you but enough to tell you that he's in charge.

Kylian wanted to hear you.

His hand now on your chin. “C’mon amour, let me hear all those pretty sounds you make.” He says, the angle you were at puts him deeper than before.

The slightest movements and you can feel it in your stomach. It’s like he can hear your thoughts because his hand moves from your chin to your stomach. His big hand spread over your stomach, “you’d look so pretty with a baby in you, hm?”

Kylian lets you fall back onto the couch, both of his hands on your hips. “Maybe I should fuck one into you.”

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, he could listen to you say it over and over again. You were close enough that you could taste it.

“So good for me, you take it so well.” He whispers to you, kissing under your ear.

“Uh huh,” you breathe, leaning back against him, your legs felt like jello under you. Your head drops back onto the couch, begging him to let you cum.

He lets you drop back, back arched for him once again. He feels you cum around him, the wetness covering his cock. It’s not long after, followed by a few sloppy thrusts, that Kylian cums too.

The tip of his cock brushing between your folds, spreading his cum all over your pussy.

He pulls away, smiling at the whimper he gets from you. His fingers replacing his cock, covered in his cum when you roll over, he sticks his fingers in your mouth and he doesn’t have to tell you what to do.

“Good girl,” he hums, watching as your tongue laps over his fingers. Kylian pulls his fingers away, leaning down to kiss you. A mess of the two of you, not sure where one of you starts and the other ends.

You lay there for a while, Kylian on top of you, your leg tossed on his hip as his head rests on your sternum. Your fingers drag over his shoulders, the man humming quietly.

"We should do that again," he whispers.

You laughed, "keep it up and we'll end up with a baby by next Christmas."

Kylian nods, kissing you. "Let's try again then."

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#merry smutmas xoxo #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe smut #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football smut

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mindmelter · 3 months

Text

Serving The Alien And Its Puppets - Part 2

"I will be waiting inside the car," The Arab prince said. He was now just a puppet for the Alien Master, his pretty head was filled inside with alien slime.

The Alien Master liked the Arab Prince so much that he switched his original form from my stepbrother's body to the Prince. My job today was simple and easy, all I had to do was help put some alien slime inside my hot coworkers... Of course, I'm being ironic, I was very nervous about the whole thing.

The company I worked for was mostly made up of Middle Eastern men and all of them were very hot. I was one of the few with European descent, and it was torture for a gay guy like me to work with such fine specimens.

Typically, the Alien needs to assimilate a brain per day, sometimes two. However, today he expressed his desire to assimilate every person at my workplace. I was perplexed and attempted to ask him why, but he just told me to be quiet and do as I was told.

I was very excited but also a little nervous. Once inside the building, I spotted my first victim, Ibrahim, the receptionist, sitting on a chair distracted by his phone, not even noticing me walk in.

Ibrahim worked at the front desk, he was a tall, muscular guy with a grumpy personality. All I knew about him was that he was a ladies man, and he wouldn't stop talking about pussy. I smiled to myself, he would be perfect.

I slowly walked to his desk and put a purple slime on his table, Ibrahim looked at the purple blob, and before he could say anything the slime leaped onto his face, squirming its way into his nostrils and burrowing towards his brain. He let out a deep, guttural grunt, his eyes rolling back as violent convulsions overtook his body. His muscular arms hung limply by his sides, his head drooping backward. That moment, I knew the transformation had begun—the slime was already feeding, replacing Ibrahim's brain with something new, something better.

Ibrahim then looked at me, with the same lust that every puppet would always give me. "Come here boy, you're going to get what you deserve!" He said, his voice now husky and deep, he pushed me down on my knees and unzipped his pants, freeing his huge, hard cock. "Suck on it while I talk with my date for tonight!" He ordered. "I usually would never let a fag like you have a taste of my cock, but you are my Master's human slave and your job is to serve his puppets!"

I started sucking as he kept thrusting his hips forward, I took his entire cock into my mouth, sucking and licking it as best as I could. He moaned loudly, his hips bucking against my face as he fucked my mouth, his eyes were on the phone all the timeand. He quickly came down my throat. "Drink it all, human."

"What the fuck is happening here?" Mr. Tarek, our supervisor asked as he walked into the room. He stopped in his tracks when he saw me with my face buried in Ibrahim's crotch.

Ibrahim quickly coughed one purple slime and threw it on the floor, the small slime quickly crawled and disappeared under Mr. Tarek's pants. Mr. Tarek groaned as the slime forced its way inside his ass, seconds later Mr. Tarek was also a puppet for the alien.

"Come here human slave, you're going to be our slut now," Mr. Tarek ordered. I stood up and walked to him, he pulled me for a sloppy kiss, while I unbuttoned his shirt.

Mr. Tarek was such a hot Daddy, I always wondered what he looked like under his clothes, especially his huge pecs, now I not only knew how I could feel too. I ran my hands on his meaty pecs and started to suck on his nipples as he moaned. "That's a good slave, suck on Daddy's tits," He moaned, and I did as I was told.

I lost myself in those pecs until I felt Mr. Tarek's hand pull me away by the back of my hair. "That's enough, you still have others to help convert into our Master's puppets." He then coughed another slime and handed it to me.

He was right, the Alien Master was waiting for me outside, I could play with these puppets later, it was time to move on to the next victim. I knew exactly who was going to be next, walking inside the other room I spotted the young intern, Khalid. I felt a little guilty, Khalid seemed like a nice guy, but after seeing the bulge in his pants it passed away.

He was sitting at his desk when he noticed me and welcomed me with a warm smile. "Hey Eric, can I help you with something?" he asked.

I stepped closer, my heart racing as I approached him with a blob of purple slime moving on my hand, his eyes widened in surprise and confusion. "What the hell is that?" He stuttered, standing up and moving away from me.

I didn't respond, after all, what could I say? "Hey, Khalid? Would you let me put this goo inside your head so it can feed on your brain and replace it with a slime?"

So I just threw the slime toward him, but I failed when he protected his face with his hands, making the slime fall to the floor. He then ran to the door, he was about to walk out, but he bumped right into Mr. Tarek's large pecs.

"Mr. Tarek, you need to help me! Eric has with him some weird creature!"

But Mr. Tarek looked completely blank and unresponsive as he blocked the door with his body.

"Mr Tarek?" Khalid asked. He was starting to question why the supervisor was with his shirt open, and was that saliva on his nipples? but before he could react, Mr. Tarek grabbed Khalid by his chin and forced a kiss, Khalid tried to fight but Mr. Tarek was stronger.

I could see some purple slime being passed from Mr. Tarek's mouth and into Khalid's, the intern's eyes went wide in shock, and then his body went limp as the alien slime started to take over his body.

Mr. Tarek then whispered into his ear, "Welcome to the family, Khalid." with that, Khalid nodded and gave me an eerie smile.

"Take off your pants and bend over my desk, now!" Khalid said with a commanding tone, but his voice was the same, it was terrifyingly sexy. I felt my face flush red, seeing innocent Khalid acting in such a dominant way made me very hard.

As I bent over the desk, I soon felt Khalid's hands on my ass, ripping my underwear and spreading my cheeks as he buried his face and started to eat my ass. I was in heaven until I felt a hard slap on my ass.

I looked behind me and saw Ibrahim, Mr. Tarek, and Khalid, all standing together behind me without their pants and with their hard dicks pointing at me. Suddenly they all started to speak in unison.

"The Alien Master is angry that you almost let one of his puppets run away, he wants us to punish you!"

The three of them took turns, one fucking me hard while the others watched and stroked themselves.

Ibrahim was first, his thick cock pushing into me without any mercy. I moaned loudly, feeling him fill me up and stretch me wide open. He fucked me hard and fast, his grunts and groans echoing through the room. Mr. Tarek was next, his cock was even larger than Ibrahim's, and he was not gentle either. He grabbed my hips and pounded into me, making the desk shake beneath us, pens, papers, and a mug, all fell to the floor. Lastly, Khalid, his cock was thicker than the others and he took his time, savoring the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of me.

The Alien Master, watching through their eyes, was enjoying the show. His slime was pulsing inside each one of them, making their cocks even harder and their strokes more aggressive. When the three finished inside me, I stood up with three loads leaking from my ass and smirked at them.

"There's still plenty of puppets to make, give me one more copy," I said.

But the three just laughed at me and spoke in unison. "Master don't want you to help him anymore! We will do the takeover from here, you will just watch."

I sighed. It seemed that I had really angered the Alien Master, and now I feared for the future of my brain. I nodded and followed them to the next office. I watched as they forced a kiss on the other men, and within seconds, those men would be under the alien's control, forcing a kiss on other workers. They moved swiftly and efficiently, and before I knew it, the entire floor was filled with puppets.

There was Amir, a muscular Daddy fitness enthusiast, who worked as the manager. He was so huge that it took both Ibrahim and Mr. Tarek to hold him while Khalid infected him with the slime.

Amir was known around the office for his stern demeanor and unwillingness to be dominated by anyone. Now, under the alien's control, he was leading a group of his fellow converted colleagues toward the next department.

Then, there was also Karim, the office gossip, he spread a rumor once about me ogling the men's bulges, now his mouth was used to spread the alien's slime rather than rumors.

I was kneeling between his legs, looking up at him as some commotion was going on in the background.

"You like staring at our bulges huh? You're such a perverted human," He said as he shoved my face into his bulge, his hard cock pressing against my face. "If you like staring at men's bulges so much, then here it is!" I couldn't help but feel a bit of spiteful satisfaction as I started to lick the bulge in his pants, feeling it pulse and throb in my tongue.

"There you are!" Amir called from behind, yanking me up by the shirt collar. "Omar wants to have a word with you!"

"Can you carry me in your arms? My ass is really sore." I asked, trying to give him my best puppy eyes. Amir took me in his huge strong arms as if I was made of paper, as he carried me to Omar's office, I caressed his pecs.

Then there was finally Omar, the office heartthrob and the executive assistant. Whose hot body was now a vessel for the alien slime. Amir put me down on my knees as I looked up at Omar sitting on his chair, he was holding a mug.

"They put some slime copies on the coffee machine; I have to admit, that's pretty clever," Omar said as he stood up, loosened his tie, and approached me with a hungry look. I knew what was coming next.

"You've been a naughty human, Eric," he purred, his voice low and seductive. "Our Master thinks you need a more thorough lesson in obedience."

The other puppets walked into the room forming a circle around me, Omar pushed me to my knees and ordered me to unbuckle his belt and blow him. His cock grew before my eyes, the slime making it swell and pulse with an otherworldly need. I couldn't resist the urge to touch it, to feel the power of the alien through this beautiful vessel of a man. He groaned as I wrapped my hand around his shaft, stroking it gently before taking it into my mouth. The puppets gathered around us, their eyes gleaming with lust as they watched me service Omar.

Omar let out a primal roar, tearing open his dress shirt to reveal his perfectly sculpted, hairy chest. One by one, the others followed his lead, ripping their shirts apart with a savage fervor, there was no humanity left in them. It was like watching a scene from a twisted sci-fi porn, where the alien's insatiable hunger was not just for brains, but for power and sexual control.

They were all jerking off around me and soon they came at the same time, all over me. I was a mess, covered in the cum of 32 men, but I didn't care. I felt like I was part of something big, something powerful.

I felt like a slut in a sea of hot, alien-controlled men, and I couldn't help but love every second of it.

After hours of servicing those men, I walked out of the building, feeling used but oddly satisfied. I couldn't believe I just helped turn all my coworkers into brainless hosts. The copies filling their heads don't need to feed like the original Alien inside the Arab prince, so they would go back to their old lives as normal, the slimes would act just like them, only I would know what was inside their heads.

I stepped inside the car where my Alien Master was waiting.

"I'm fed and satiated for now, you almost did a good job, my human slave," he said, his voice still deep and commanding.

"Thank you-"

"I said 'almost', you almost let one of those humans run away, he would have if it wasn't for one of my puppets. That's what I get for trusting a human."

"I helped you turn my stepbrother and stepdad into your dumb puppets! What else do I need to do so you can finally trust me?" I said. But when I looked at the prince's face, I immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry Master, I promise-"

"Quiet," he cut me off. "You will be punished for that later, now give this puppet a blowjob while I drive us to his hotel!"

I took the Arab Prince's cock into my mouth as he drove off. Once at the hotel, I decided to take a shower, I needed a good shower to take the sweat and cum from the day's events off my body.

I walked out naked of the bathroom, there was no reason for modesty anymore. I saw the prince smoking on the balcony, looking over the city lights, he then turned to look at me.

"Sorry for being too harsh on you today, my human." He said, blowing out some smoke.

I couldn't tell if he was mocking me or being sincere, but I didn't dare to question it. "I've been thinking, you have been a great companion to me, I never thought I would ever let a human with an intact brain for so long, I hope you realize how special that makes you."

I was speechless, it was the first time the Alien Master was being kind to me.

"Thank you, Master," I murmured,

The Prince then sat on the bed, his cock already hard again, he looked at me with hunger in his eyes.

"Come here, my sweet human," he ordered, and I knew I had to obey. He grabbed me by the waist and gently pushed me onto the bed, spreading my legs and climbing on top of me.

His huge cock slid into me easily, and he started to fuck me with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made me moan.

This was different from the other times. The Arab Prince, or rather the Alien Master, was not as rough. His movements were tender, almost loving, and his eyes bore into mine as he whispered how much of a good human pet I was.

As he thrusted, he was pinning my hands above me on the bed as he kissed my neck. Once we came, The Alien Master cuddled me in the prince's muscular arms, his cock still hard inside me. It was the closest thing to affection I had ever felt.

"Who do you think should be the next puppet?" He asked.

"I'm thinking of Mr. Wahid's son? he's a hot arrogant hunk, just like his dad."

Suddenly the prince's eyes became completely purple, scaring me for a second, it was the first time I was seeing it.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm accessing the copy inside Mr. Wahid's mind right now," Right, sometimes I forget that the Alien can have access to all his puppet's memories at any moment. The prince's eyes went back to normal.

"It looks like his son is traveling for a business trip, but he will be back tomorrow morning, It'll be the perfect opportunity."

"I agree, Master."

"Then you should get some sleep; we're heading to the airport in the morning."

#alien possession #male possession #male puppet

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 year

Text

Reign down on me - Part 1

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt

-🐺-

The sky was dark and sheeted in heavy fog by the time that Ghost had finally come for you. It was the first time you’d seen the man in the skull mask, but not the first you’d heard of the name of his Captain. Your ears twitched at the familiarity as he spoke it, his gravelly voice sending shivers down your battered back.

“I’m here on behalf of Captain John Price, he called ahead about the hybrid.”

You’d lifted your numb head from the concrete floor when you realised you recognised that name, painfully craning your neck just to see who’d spoken it. You tried to work the stiffness from your muscles, popping joints and rolling them as far as your bounds would allow. Water was tumbling off you like a dam all the while, creating little murky puddles all around you. Despite the flimsy tin roof above, the rain had been relentlessly blown onto you for most of the day.

As usual it was your fault you were suffering, you knew well enough you could’ve avoided the punishment. You could’ve chosen to suck up your pride. Though as your mind cycled back through the day, you wondered if maybe it was all inevitable. Perhaps they pushed you as a way of giving a last sordid goodbye gift.

A morning lashing followed by the announcement that you were being transferred to an unnamed team, being sent off to pack up your meagre possessions, finished off by a full day tied up and abandoned on the floor of the outdoor kennels. Somewhere through the first few hours of being left there you’d begun to feel a tiny spark of anticipation at the idea of being taken away. You’d wondered if things might be better somewhere else.

However when the mysterious man strode into your line of vision, you were right back to feeling hopeless. Every inch of the unyielding cold was digging it’s way into your aching bones, but even through that you were shivering now at the idea of being taken away by him. He was a giant, all shadows and wide angles, black cloth with a stab of white around his face. You fixed your sights onto his mask and felt your teeth almost shatter as you realised it was a skull. Was this big terrifying bastard your new handler?

“Ah, yes…Lieutenant,” there was an awkward pause, the handler clearly felt much the same as you about the behemoth. “Just over there. You’ll have to fill out some paperwork before you leave with it, but you can have a look first and decide if you want to finalise the decision.”

The man nodded and gave a grunt, his eyes narrowing at the mention of paperwork. Oh great, you thought, he’s pissed off and now he’s about to come meet me. There was no escape from him though. You were completely trapped, hands bound tightly behind your back with thick corded rope and legs similarly tied. There was nothing for it, but to wait for him to realise that the pathetic wolf staring up at him was the one he was getting stuck with.

“This wolf’s been serving out the last of its punishment today,” the handler said, running a nervous hand over his stubbly blonde head.

You glared at him, throat tightening as you valiantly repressed a growl. He’d always been an asshole to you right from the very start, he revelled in the chance to pull you down a peg or twelve, and that day he’d really outdone himself. He’d hit you with the leather strap until his veins were popping out of his ridiculously oversized arms and then he’d sneered all the way through tying you down for the day. He’d been taking particular joy in telling you ‘act like a bitch, get treated like a bitch’ before leaving you stuck there.

While most soldier hybrids were treated comparatively well, given the nature of the work you did, the base personnel took particular exception to you. Right from the very start, from the day you’d been dumped there as a mere child you’d been marked as the black sheep and there wasn’t a single day that you weren’t reminded of your lack of favour. You’d arrived a shitty kid with a chip on their shoulder and come through it a shell of that past self, never quite escaping the claws of your contentious past.

You were thinking about just how many times you’d been left to rot in that exposed kennel when you finally locked gazes with the Lieutenant. You wondered how he’d see you through those cold unblinking eyes as they peered at you through the front bars. Would he want to hurt you too?

Of course he would, you thought, they all do.

“Why’re they tied like that? What sort of punishment is this?”

You jumped at the harshness of his tone. There was a knife edge drawn in it, meant to preface an attack.

“It’s our version of a time out. Although with the amount this one’s been in here it’s more like a permanent residence.”

You huffed out a breath, watching as the man puffed up his chest. A useless inflatable shield. He wasn’t going to fold and pretend that he wasn’t being harsher than normal to you. He was quite happy to let the other man believe that you were deserving of the treatment. In fairness you had bitten him not long after you’d come back from your last mission, you’d been out of patience and he’d crumpled the last straw in your back.

“And how long has this timeout been?”

The way the Lieutenant spat the word, it dripped into your ears like venom. You winced as you watched him fold his arms and openly glared at the handler now, sending the other man stuttering backwards a foot or two.

“Only a half day, Lieutenant,” the handler faltered.

“Fuckin’ hell, you trying to kill them before they go? What are we meant to do with a half drowned wolf, eh? Its been raining all day, they’re soaked and shiverin’ like a fuckin’ newborn, how the hell do you justify that?”

“You have to appreciate that this is a-”

“I don’t have to appreciate anything. Get that door open now!” the Lieutenant ordered, interrupting the fumbling mess in front of him.

The handler visibly paled and suddenly thought better of trying to justify his work. He shakily got to work rattling his keys into the door, and yelped when the masked man shouldered past him, staying firmly planted outside while your cell was invaded.

You whined when his shadow descended on you and tried to pull away, attempting to try and get into a better position to fend off any attacks. However he was on you before you could so much as shift a muscle.

His gloved hands were quick to undo the knots keeping you pinned down and even quicker to trap you to the ground when he noticed you squirming and splashing your hands through puddles just to get away from him. It was like being held by a stone statue. He was relentless, keeping you pasted down to the floor before dragging you against him and rubbing those solid hands of his up and down your sides, willing your circulatory system to jump into a sprint.

Your energy was too busy being directed to your head though. The jolt of human touch was nothing like you were used to, and knowing who it was coming from was enough to send you into overdrive. His warm hands and rough voice left impressions up your spine and in your head, his scent burned in your lungs. Notes of spicy orange peel and gunmetal wafted around your head, somewhere faintly you swore you detected traces of cigar smoke.

Suddenly you were thrown back to being sent out on a mission with Price, he wasn’t so bad to work for, he’d treated you well enough and even gotten some food for you afterward. It made you wonder if maybe the big man he’d sent wasn’t so bad too. Not that you’d treat him as anything other than a threat for the time being of course.

“You with us, darlin’?”

You jumped when you realised he was finally talking to you. Your eyes connected with his, landing on those stormy blue irises before you let loose a growl. You couldn’t help it this time. Your body was kicking into its usual instincts in lieu of having any idea of how to act. Those same instincts had you flinching straight after, waiting for the retaliation.

“None of that now,” the man chastised softly, “C’mon, stop your growlin’. You’ve gotta warm up, pup, don’t fight me.”

Where most handlers would have slapped you or kicked you or even cuffed you round your big fluffy ears for all the noise you’d made, this man didn’t even huff at you. He just continued to rub your arms and legs and tried to coax the curl out of your shaking tail. Your usually silvery fur was drenched into a damp grey and clung wetly to his gloves as he ran his hands through it.

“Leave my tail alone!” you snarled, finally breaking free of the spell you were under.

Your tail had been snapped and broken enough times that it was stuck permanently lopping to the right. You weren’t going to let him do any worse to it. You attempted to twist and break yourself out of his hold but the man was steadfast in keeping you locked against him. His hands fastened to your waist and back and unfortunately pressed harshly against a big welt that scorched you as soon as his fingers pressed there. You howled out a scream in response.

“Hey! Hey, easy now. Stop, I’m not trying to hurt you. Keep still. Easy!”

As if you’d listen to him. You thrashed about to no avail, breathing harshly as you fought through the bubble of anxiety that enveloped you. Your lungs were working so hard to pump that you distantly worried they might explode. Every cell in your body struggled against the masked man, but no matter what you did you weren’t a match for him in your weakened state.

“Fuck sake, stop standing there being useless and get me a towel,” the Lieutenant shouted over you, calling over to the handler.

“You actually want it?” The handler questioned, his face a picture of horror as he watched you screaming like a banshee against your prospective new leader.

“Well I’m not leaving them here to freeze, am I? Get me that towel and tell your superiors to mail the paperwork, we’re leaving.”

“It’s not standard policy to-”

“It's not standard policy for me to rip your spine out your throat, but I just might do it,” Ghost threatened. “Go!”

…

You’d been bundled into a car not long after that, pinned fast to the Lieutenant’s front like a half-dead butterfly. After struggling for a good ten minutes with him, wrestling to keep the towel off you, you finally gave in. Being so good as to allow him to wrap you up and dry you off, roughly sweeping the fabric over the worst of your drowned tail, ears and hair before situating you in the back next to him. The driver started the car and got to moving without a word.

You sat ruefully folding your arms over the soaked towel, hair and fur poking in all directions, watching as your old base faded to a pin prick in the distance. The smell of your damp clothes drying was turning the air stale, but you could hardly focus on that as your mind tried to make sense of everything that had happened. That and your smarting back as it burned against the hard cushioning of your seat.

Meanwhile the Lieutenant’s voice was a gruff murmur as he spoke to his Captain, he was quietly updating him on the situation. You didn’t really bother to listen, ears pinned to the back of your head as you tried to figure out how to proceed with your new and strange circumstances.

Most hybrids would eventually be chosen to permanently join teams, but there��d never been any interest for you before. Plenty of Captains would praise your skills and openly admire the work you did, but you were very purposefully told after every time that they’d take a look at your disciplinary file and go running for the hills. It made you wonder what Price had seen in you. You weren’t even convinced you’d been that impressive given you were only assigned to him for a tracking mission. You hadn’t even brought anyone down or had to push yourself very hard at all, you’d only needed to locate his man and report back.

“Hey Ghost, should I turn up the heat?”

Your eyes flashed to the rearview mirror, catching eyes with the driver that had broken the silence. He watched you back unflinching. Ghost? You turned and faced the man next you, tilting your head when he looked up at the driver.

Was his name really Ghost?

“Your wolf’s shaking,” the driver continued.

You locked eyes with Ghost again, feeling your heartbeat more than you’d ever had in your life. It felt like it’d been locked in a cage barely big enough to fit. Your tail curled when he ended his call and turned his attention solely on you.

Interrupting the higher ups was never a good thing. You gulped.

“You still cold, pup?” He asked softly.

You frowned at him, feeling your ears peek up at the repeated use of the nickname. You were long past being a ‘pup’ anymore. Though for some reason it didn’t feel as patronising as it should’ve.

“I’ll be fine, sir,” you said, answering stiffly.

“Didn’t ask if you’d be fine, I asked if you were cold.”

You flinched at his words, already knowing you must be drawing out his ire. It wouldn’t be long before had you back at whatever base he was taking you to and was tying you up to a disciplinary post, you thought grimly. In most cases you knew you could bear the punishment and would quite happily spurn him, but knowing the full size of Ghost you weren’t so sure you’d walk away quite as well as normal from that one.

You thought carefully before answering him again.

“I am a little cold, sir,” you shrugged.

He nodded and motioned for the driver to go ahead and soon the car was filled with warmth, your shaking subsided but didn’t cease. It wasn’t all due to the cold.

To make matters worse that wasn’t the end of the interaction with Ghost either. Now that he was off the phone he was giving you a proper look over. It felt as if he were assessing every inch of you while you stared back at him, willing yourself to keep your eyes from naturally casting down. Did you measure up to his expectations?

“Are you ok?” he asked, breaking the bubble of silence that had enveloped you.

You frowned. What did he care?

“Fine, sir?”

“Are you asking me if you’re fine?” he snorted.

You could see the twinkle of a smirk in his eyes. The corners were pulling upwards and you swore you caught a twitch of a smile behind the black material of his lower mask.

“Do you care either way?” you asked, raising your brows at him.

He lost his smile at that.

“I appreciate honesty, pup.”

That was it. He snapped the tether to the tiny frightened wolf inside of you that begged you not to antagonise him and finally, you felt brave enough to push. The real animal inside was allowed to bark and howl uncontrolled.

“I’m being taken away to god knows where by Mr.Bonejangles and now he’s asking me to be honest with him after I’ve spent the whole day out in the elements with a whipped back. How do you think I’m doing?” you growled.

Now that the heat was properly thawing you out, you were feeling every ounce of your irritability spark to life. Even while you waited for some kind of reprimand, you held firm through your tensed muscles. If he hit you then you would do everything not to flinch from it.

Test me, asshole. Just do it. You won’t see me break.

He didn’t lash out at you though, he’d already proved he wasn’t like your handlers at your base, but this more than confirmed it. Instead he took a breath and kept his measured gaze on you, letting you know that he was perfectly in control of the situation.

“My name’s Ghost. I’m taking you down to London, and you’re going to join the 141 with me as your handler. You’re going to be serving under John Price, you did a mission with him and Kyle Garrick about a month back. Do you remember them?” Ghost said, his voice even and clear.

You blinked back at him, not even bothering to hide your surprise that he’d wanted to give you answers to the questions you clearly had. Now you were truly curious. It wasn’t often that anyone bothered to fill you in on what was happening, you were usually expected to just accept whatever happened and to keep quiet even if you couldn’t. Ghost actually wanted you to talk to him.

“Price is the one with the dodgy beard. And Garrick… he’s called Gaz right? The Sergeant?” you said slowly, still not quite believing you were being engaged with.

Ghost huffed out a laugh.

“That’s right. You’ll see them again in the morning, and you’ll get to meet Sergeant MacTavish as well. For tonight all you gotta worry about is getting clean and fed and having a decent night’s sleep. We’ve got a few hours till we get to the base though, so for now you can ask me whatever you like.”

You tilted your head at him and immediately got to work testing this new boundary of yours. Your ears were perked up like antennas as your brian buzzed with activity. You’d never been in a position to ask whatever you’d liked before.

“Why’re you wearing that mask?”

He rolled his eyes at that, causing you to shrink back. Ok, so maybe you weren’t really going to get to ask whatever you liked.

“Gotta hide how handsome I am,” he said, leaning back in his chair and giving you an amused side eye.

You snorted at that and unclenched your hands, letting your sharp nails come away from the chair before it tore. A smile even curled its way onto your lips.

“Not because you’re an ugly bastard then?”

“Negative.”

You snorted again.

“So lets see, I apparently have a model handler and a new and very experienced team that I have the honour of being express delivered to. You’re letting me speak more than any of those bastards ever did in a whole day and you’ve not punished me once yet. I can’t help but wonder why you’d choose me for this, especially after you saw me back there,” you said, pursing your lips as if you might come to any conclusions on your own. “Anyone would tell you I’m a liability, but you still took me anyway. Why?”

Ghost raised his brows under the mask, the blackout makeup below shifted and you swore you could make out some of his exposed pale skin out of the corners. You watched him intently, trying to make out any hint of insincerity or anger where there was none.

“Price said you were good. I trust his instincts.”

“No questions asked?”

“None,” he confirmed.

“Even after seeing my disciplinary record?”

“It raised a few eyebrows on the team, but Price was happy enough with what he saw on the field that he wanted you as long as I did too. And like I said, I trust him,” he sighed when he met your eyes and you still weren’t convinced. “Besides, your record’s a shit show from base but you’ve been getting consistently solid reports back for the last ten years you’ve been getting sent out. I’m willing to bet that that stunning display of incompetence I saw earlier was probably a good indicator of why you’ve not been performing very well at home.”

“Stunning display of incompetence,” you repeated, not able to help the bark of laughter you let loose afterward.

“Exactly, pup,” Ghost smiled.

You felt something inside you dislodge, like a brick had come out of the fortress you’d built around yourself. While you weren't rushing to fawn over your new handler, but you were willing to offer him more than just your contemptible obedience. Something about that sent a small shiver down your back, but even still you were able to lie back in the chair and let it leave you.

You didn’t have it in you to ask anymore questions after that. Your head was an overspilling cup already, you didn’t want to drown yourself with anymore knowledge. So instead you let the easy silence take over and looked off into the distance, watching with heavy lids as the car tore through fields and towns in equal measure.

Your eyes kept closing in a series of syrupy slow blinks, one second you were driving through a hedgeway of trees and the next you were in open blue fields of sky darkened wheat. Somewhere down the line your eyes closed for the final time and you gently arrived into a dreamless sleep, letting the darkness and warmth envelop your aching body.

…

You had the feeling that you were being lifted. The sudden shift in the air from warm to cold paired with the sensation of being jostled was enough to tip you over the edge of consciousness. In seconds you were looking for something to attack.

Your eyes snapped open and you went in for a bite, just about to close your teeth around an arm when that same appendage snapped back and fastened your neck against a hard wall of muscle behind you. You growled and panicked, heart hammering and body struggling in a flash of snapping canines and flailing limbs.

“Hey! Stop your nonsense.”

You stilled at the words, instantly recognising the rough manc accent that they’d come from. You breathed a little and came back to yourself, remembering that you weren’t at your old base anymore and you weren’t being captured by an enemy either. You were being taken somewhere new, not a base or a prison or a kennel, you were being brought toward a bungalow.

“Where are we?” you asked feebly, frowning at your unfamiliar surroundings.

“Just outside the base, darlin’,” Ghost rumbled. “This is my home, for now.”

“Why are you taking me to your house?”

You angled yourself against Ghost’s tight hold and frowned up at him, searching his face for any sign of bad intention. You’d invaded houses as part of your job, but never had you stayed inside one since you’d lived with your family. You couldn’t understand why he’d want you to live with him when you knew as well as he did that there were specialised barracks for hybrids in every military base. Why would he want his work invading his personal space?

“I don’t want you staying at the base until you’re more settled,” Ghost said, pulling one of his hands from you so that he could get his keys out his pocket. “You can choose to stay there if you want after the first few weeks, but until then you’re staying here with me.”

Your ears flickered as the loud jingling of his keys rattled through them and you whined, oversensitive and overtired. He let his remaining arm relax around you and held you close to his chest, shushing you all the while. His spicy aroma filled your senses again and you let your whines die down to low whimpers, hoping that he’d just put you down and leave you alone soon.

“Sh, It’s ok, pup. I know it’s been a long day, but I just need you to hold on a little longer, alright?”

You nodded and let him carry you through the doorway and down a dark hallway, setting you down on a cool tiled floor before turning on the light. You glanced up at him sheepishly and blinked furiously at the bright blue bulb, having to rub your eyes before you could properly check out your surroundings. Once you rubbed the sleep from them you realised you were in a bathroom.

“You think you can shower yourself and get changed into something for bed?” he asked. “I can run you a bath and help you wash if you need?”

“No, shower’s fine,” you said quickly, not wanting to go through any further humiliation.

“Good, I’ll leave your things for you here and let you get on with it then,” he said, setting down the hold all you’d packed just next to you. “There’s a clean towel there on the rail for you, the blue one. Once you’re clean and changed you can come to the kitchen and get some dinner. It’s just at the end of the hall.”

You checked to your right and sure enough there was a clean fluffy towel waiting right on the heated rail for you. Ghost nodded and took himself out of the room, closing the door with a soft snick and leaving you alone for the first time since he’d picked you up.

You shivered and chanced a look at yourself in the bathroom mirror, quickly averting your eyes when you realised just how pathetic you looked. Your hair was a mess, your fur was thick with matts and your skin was plastered with dirt. You were a sore sight. You growled at yourself for getting into such a state and stalked into the joint bath and shower, not bothering to wait for the water to heat before yanking the shower on.

Cold water jetted out and shocked you into awareness, drawing out another low whine until it started to heat up, letting you properly set to work washing all the filth away. There were a couple of bad matts that came out in thick clumps, but other than that you were glad for the shower, pleasantly surprised by how warm it could go. The heat bled through your skin and into your tired muscles and before long you were just standing there enjoying the water, already done with washing yourself.

You didn’t want to push your luck though. So with an unwilling jostle from your survival instincts you turned the shower off and got yourself out, not wanting to risk Ghost barging in and asking what was taking you so bloody long.

Soon enough you were finding out that being wrapped in one of Ghost’s towels was also quite pleasant. These weren’t anything like the raggedy old towels from your base, like the one sitting sadly discarded on the floor, no these were warm and soft on your skin. Where the other towel scratched this one soothed and you found yourself smiling, feeling your tail wag as you found comfort in the gentle material and lingering orange scented steam.

Again, you couldn’t stay like that forever. So you dug through the clothes in your bag until you found an old pair of sweats and tugged those on, taking care to gently pull your tail through the specially stitched opening that had long been fraying with age, and then shrugged on a baggy t-shirt afterwards. Finally you were ready and able to go see Ghost.

You put your towel back on the rail and neatly piled your dirty things in the corner as you weren’t sure what to do with them, then marched from the bathroom and down the hall, depositing your bag outside the doorway. It wasn’t hard to pick out Ghost’s scent even in his own house, even as you now smelled like him after using his Soap. His aroma now mingled with the smell of chicken and chips and your mouth watered as you came into the room, fixing your eyes on where Ghost now stood. He was leaning over a hot oven, pulling out half a rotisserie chicken and a tray of golden brown chips just as you’d walked through the threshold.

“How was your shower?”

You raised your brows, still taken aback by how much he cared about your feelings and opinions on things.

“Good, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir when we’re not on base,” Ghost said, throwing you a glance over his shoulder.

You’d noticed that he’d dressed down since coming home. He’d shed his layers and changed out of his soaked clothes into a pair of jeans and black tee, wearing a black balaclava over his face instead of his skull mask. However you realised when he fully turned around with the plated food that it still had a skull painted over it. Cute.

“Here, I’ve just heated up some leftovers for tonight. Nothing great, but try to eat up, you’ll need energy for tomorrow.”

“This is all for me?”

You frowned when he set the plate in front of you and looked up wide eyed. He was selling it like it was crap, but it was miles better than the tinned slop they served you on the base. This was fresh, this was the type of stuff you got as a treat when you were sent away on deployments. The crispy chicken skin was already tearing through the teeth of your imagination, your mouth watered at the thought of the sensation. Even knowing it was a little shrivelled from overcooking it was still going to be one of the tastiest meals you’d eaten in a while. Some small part of you wondered if it was all some kind of trick.

“Yeah, all yours, pup. C’mon eat up, then off to bed,” Ghost urged, giving you shoulder a small squeeze.

You shrunk from him, but successfully resisted the urge to snap. You couldn’t lash out after how nice he’d been, so you begrudgingly had to allow him the unnecessary physical contact. Putting it out your head, you instead lowered your head to your plate and gathered up your fork, ready to wildly stab at the bits of chicken and crispy chips. You could feel your tail swishing behind you, though even in present company you didn’t care.

You happily set about finishing your food while Ghost sat across from you, intently typing and reading things on his phone. The light from the device bounced off of his eyes, the fake blue light pooling thick on top of his shrunken pupils. You only realised you’d begun to stare at him when he looked up and seemed to smile at you.

“Don’t get distracted, finish your dinner,” he chastised.

Your ears pinned to your head in embarrassment and you focused back on the plate, not looking back up until the plate was empty and your belly was pleasantly full. Your tail twitched happily behind you and you leaned back in your chair with it, closing your eyes so that you could bask in the pleasant heavy feeling that was starting to overcome you again.

“Ah ah, you’re not sleeping here. C’mon, to bed,” Ghost rumbled.

You opened your eyes again and blinked up at him, glowering under the weight of your exhaustion. Whatever bed you were imagining him having for you, you couldn’t imagine it’d be that much better than the rickety wooden chair you’d planted yourself on. Of course you’d forgotten all the nice things he’d allowed you already, and your mind was imagining something like your sleeping arrangement at the base.

And once again your expectations were blown out of the water. He gestured for you to come follow him and with a sigh and a sharp crack in your knees you rose from your chair and huffed off down the dark hallway with him. The wood creaked as you both walked across it, groaning more heavily under your new handler’s larger steps. You didn’t have to walk very far fortunately for you.

Ghost stopped at a door that was just next to the bathroom and opened it, ushering you in front of him as he got the lightswitch. You let him lead you round and looked into the room as it flashed to life, surprised again to see how much better your circumstances had become since leaving your original base.

“I’m sleeping in here?”

“Yeah, this is your room. You’ve got a few blankets and pillows there on the bed so you can arrange it however you like. I know some hybrids like to nest and some don’t, so its up to you how you want to keep it. All I ask is that you make sure it’s kept clean, and I will be checking.”

You barely listened to him as you stared at the bed in front of you. It was a real bed. Not a stuffed foam pillow on the floor, not a mattress bundled in the corner, not cold barren concrete, no. It was a real bed with legs and a springy mattress and a cornflower duvet cover and an assortment of pillows and blue blankets to match.

“I’ll let you put your things away tomorrow, for now I want you to lie down for me. You need your tail brushed and I want to check over your back.”

All at once your chest collapsed and the happiness you’d felt left your body entirely, every inch of it dropping from your ears and tail. You turned around and looked at Ghost, stopping him in his tracks just as he was taking a step toward you. He paused when he looked down at the snarl you now wore.

“You’re not touching my tail, I’ve brushed it already myself,” you rumbled.

“And you’ve done a piss poor job of it. Go lie down and let me take a quick look,” Ghost said, his tone forceful and even.

You growled then, letting the engine in your chest roar to life. Even if he was being nice to you, this was a step too far. You didn’t like it when people touched your tail or ears, usually it meant tugging and pulling and pain. Whenever you felt someone's hands on them it’d bring bile up everytime, your body ready to process the agony it was about to experience.

“Alright, I can see that’s an issue for you,” he sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “What if I make sure not to touch it with my hands and just run the brush through, would that be ok?”

You paused and considered his words, growls dying low in your throat. Maybe this was the lesser of two evils, you thought. After all, if he wanted to brush your tail then he more than proved he could overpower you, so perhaps this was the only way to keep him from putting his hands on it. Unless you wanted to put vicious intent behind your attacks, the kind that would get you put down like a dog, then you had no way of actually making him stop.

“Fine,” you snapped.

“Good. Lie down then,” he commanded, disappearing into the gloom of the hallway after.

He reemerged again just after you finally lay down. He walked in on your internal battle, one part of you wanting to squeal with joy at how soft the bed was and the other wanting to jump up and bite the hand that held the brushes and lotion bottle. The main thing that gave you pause was knowing that the other handlers you'd known would’ve beat you black and blue for growling at them and questioning their orders, meanwhile Ghost had adjusted his plans just to suit you. He proved again that he championed your comfort.

“I’ll make this quick, I promise,” Ghost soothed.

He sat down on the bed beside you, causing it to dip and groan under the new weight. It forced you to roll toward him too. You huffed when you came into contact with his side and scrambled to correct yourself, trying to maintain some modicum of distance from him. Once you were settled again, he placed the brushes and lotion bottle down next to you and lifted the thick toothed brush bringing it to your tail.

You scrunched your eyes shut tightly and grit your teeth. You already felt like you were going to bring up your dinner. You couldn’t help but picture him ignoring his past promises. However instead of living up to your dark imaginings, he placed one hand on the small of your back and let the other drag the brush down your tail snagging almost immediately on a big clumpy matt that you’d missed.

“See, couldn’t let that sit there and build up. You’d end up with a skin infection,” he grunted. “If you don’t want me touching there that’s fine, but you’re going to need to help take the clumps out, ok?”

You stiffly nodded your head and opened your eyes again, feeling your cheeks heat when you realised that Ghost was staring down at you. You gulped down your embarrassment and reached your hand back, digging into your tail and pulling at the clump that the brush had brought up.

Ghost grunted his approval and let the brush run through again and again, only pausing when it would stop at a tug. It started to become rhythmic, the noise of the brush cutting through your wiry fur and the dull thud whenever it hit a snag. He never once tried to touch you without your permission.

“How long has your tail been twisted like this,” Ghost asked, interrupting the sound of the brush.

You tilted your head, trying to think back to a time when it didn’t curve off to the side, you hadn’t remembered it being straight in so long.

“I think it was fully broken when I was around sixteen maybe,” you said softly. “The doctors tried to set it properly, but it just wouldn’t come back no matter what they tried. I’ve learned to balance with it like that though and it mostly works like it used to - just a little range of movement lost they said”

“How did it break?”

You shivered at the memory. Ghost must’ve felt it underneath his hold on you because he stopped his brushing for a moment and let you speak.

“Sergeant Maddox got mad because I couldn’t complete the training he’d set that day. I was tired from being out in the kennels the night before and I didn't have the rest of the run in me. He yanked me up off the floor by the tail and it just…snapped.”

You couldn’t see Ghost’s expression properly, but you could hear his anger through the seething breath he let out. A string snapped in your body, you felt the heat coursing from him, you tensed. Though you were soon relaxing again when he got back to brushing, silently continuing on with the rest of the treatment.

The process only lasted a couple of minutes, thankfully it wasn’t as bad as you might’ve thought, soon enough the brush was sliding down your tail like it was a boat sailing through a silver river. The second brush he’d brought, the one with the finer teeth did the same in a matter of three clumps and for a second you were grateful to be able to sleep. You smiled to yourself and got ready to readjust yourself for bed, but Ghost stopped you, his hand still firmly on your lower back.

“You said you got lashed earlier. I need to check your back first then you can sleep.”

You whined but didn’t bother to properly protest. It would do you no good anyway. He lifted your shirt and let out another seething breath, cursing to himself about something to do with ‘the staff being leagues below incompetent’ and curled up a little, willing him just to be done and to take his venom away from you.

“These marks aren’t good. I’m going to put a little bit of cream on you to help keep them clean. It’ll sting a bit but I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse.”

You nodded, signalling for him to proceed. He carefully worked the cream into your back, withdrawing when you hissed at the pressure or when he’d covered a particularly bad area. Though in time that was done too and he was twisting the cap back onto the bottle in no time. You breathed in a sigh of relief and worked your way onto your side, turning away from Ghost and his annoying efforts to treat you well.

He laughed at the movement and gathered his things, rising off the bed and letting you get comfortable. Before you could think to pull up the sheets and get them over you though, Ghost took care of that for you. He stretched the duvet cover over your body and gently stroked his hand down an area of your back that he knew had been missed from your punishment.

“G’night, pup. Sleep well and just shout if you need anything.” he murmured, voice soft as he retreated from the room.

He turned out the light and shut the door, leaving you to lie there in the darkness with your wide eyes growing wetter with every retreating step you heard. You were more awake than you’d been the whole day, your mind was racing and your lungs were labouring hard under your heavy breaths. Somehow you tried to process the fact you’d just had someone tuck you in for the first time in…maybe ever?

You let out a little sob and buried your head in the covers, eyes streaming tears before you could bully yourself into controlling them. It felt like you were a new recruit all over again. Your head raced with images from your early years, lying in the bunkroom with all those strangers around you, wondering when your parents would come back, scared shitless of the big shouty human men that seemed so quick to anger.

You weren’t scared of a big man trying to shout at you and punish you anymore though, now you were scared of the big man that wanted to treat you softly and give you a good home. Hard punishment felt like something you could do, but nice treatment with soft blankets and consenting touches and warm bellies full of food? That terrified the fuck out of you.

You silenced your cries with the covers and jammed your fingers into your skin, willing yourself to shut up and go to sleep. Even while the salt stung at your cheeks and your skin protested under your sharp claws, the greatest pain felt like the sheer humiliation of enjoying Ghost’s affections.

You liked that he was babying you and taking care of you!

weakling.

You growled to yourself and threw your head into your pillow. Fuck him. You ignored all your racing thoughts and blocked them out, scrunching your eyes closed and focusing instead on the white dots that crossed your field of vision. You wouldn’t be so weak tomorrow, you promised yourself. You wouldn’t let him dote and treat you like a puppy, you would be strong, you vowed, he’d see what you were really capable of then.

#simon ghost riley #Simon Riley #Ghost #mw2 #ghost x reader

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woso-dreamzzz · 6 months

Text

Miracle

Aitana Bonmatí x Baby!Reader

Summary: You're a miracle

Aitana didn't take days off.

That was something Keira knew.

Aitana refused to take days off even when she was sick and injured. She always arrives ready and willing to train even though everyone knows that she'd just be sent home.

It's why this past week has been strange.

Aitana didn't come into training once. There was no hide or hair of the girl. Her phone immediately went to voicemail. The lights in her house were always off.

If there weren't still Bonmatí shirts in the kit room then Keira could almost believe Aitana never existed.

It was strange and off putting, especially because whenever she asked, Jona would respond that Aitana was off for personal reasons.

None of it made any sense until all of a sudden it did.

Keira was running later, tripping over her own feet as she hurries out of her car. She slams the door shut as she hefts her training bag over her shoulder.

The sound of another door slamming shut shocks her and she whips her head up to see which of her teammates would be having to run laps with her.

She spots Aitana though.

Aitana who is juggling three different bags and a baby.

"Aitana?" Keira asks," Are you okay?"

Aitana looks half to tears as one of the bags fall. She shakes her head.

"I've got it," Keira says," Come on. Let's get you inside."

Aitana doesn't speak as they both make their way to the empty locker room. She doesn't really do anything apart from occasionally holding you closer, breathing in your soft baby smell and pulling back with tears in her eyes.

"So..." Keira feels awkward. This wasn't how she thought her day would be going. "Are you babysitting?"

Aitana's bottom lip wobbles as she glances at you, shaking her head and Keira doesn't push about it anymore.

"Are you training today?" She asks instead," Or is this just a visit?"

"Training." It's the first word Aitana's said to her all morning and Keira counts it as a small victory.

Her friend looks distraught but you seem fairly happy on her hip.

You're sucking on your fingers and looking around, eyes wide as you garble out half words and sounds. Your happy smiling face changes though when you notice Aitana isn't smiling.

Your whole face scrunches up and you recklessly lean towards her to press what is more an open-mouthed breath than an actual kiss to her cheek.

That causes the tiniest of smiles to appear on Aitana's face. "Sí, thank you, estrella."

You giggle, kicking your little legs as Aitana moves to exit the locker room, Keira hurrying to trail behind.

Jona welcomes them both warmly and seems to forget Keira being late in exchange for greeting you.

"If you still need time," He says to Aitana," Then you're welcome to take more time off."

"No," Aitana says," I need to be back on the pitch. I...We need normalcy. The books said I need to establish a routine."

"If you need help-"

"Jona, I'll be fine."

"Of course you will but you're not alone in this. I'll help. Irene will help. You only need to ask."

"I know."

There's already a space made up for you in the shade. Aitana doesn't question who brought out the playpen to keep you enclosed but she's thankful regardless.

You'd just begun to learn how to get around by rolling and she doesn't want to have to keep one eye on you for the whole of training.

She doesn't have to do it but she finds herself doing it anyway, like she can't bare to be separated from you.

"Hey," Irene says during a little break," I heard what happened."

"From Jona?" Aitana can't help be annoyed. Jona shouldn't be airing out her personal business to anyone.

"Alexia, actually," Irene says," She said you might need some help."

"I don't need help!" Aitana snaps, fists clenched at her side," It's not the first time I've had her! I can cope!"

"Babysitting is different from being her mother."

"I'm not her mother!" Aitana insists," Her parents are going to wake up! They are!"

Paredes look tells Aitana that she thinks it's unlikely and Aitana regrets ever informing the club about what had happened. She should have known they would tell Alexia who, trying to be the ever-helpful captain, would pass on the knowledge to whoever she felt could offer the most support.

Of course, she went to Paredes, the ever-experienced mother of the group. She could have easily gone to Marta too but with her working out how to introduce Caro to her Conejita, she would be too preoccupied to offer help.

"Aitana-"

"Thank you for the offer," Aitana says through gritted teeth," But I don't need it."

She storms off then, turning on her heel. She barges past Alexia who was hovering nearby, intent on giving her a piece of her mind.

Her mouth is already open to hurl an out of character insult at her captain when she catches onto your wailing. It seems you're a bit out of character too today.

You'd slept horribly last night and the night before. You didn't eat well this morning either and you had cried all through the car journey to training. The happiest you'd been was in the locker room with Keira.

Aitana knew it wouldn't last.

But she couldn't work out what was wrong with you. You're weren't hungry. You didn't need a change. You weren't hurt.

You were just sobbing when she picks you up, hiding your face in her neck and wiping your runny nose with her training top.

"What's wrong, estrella?" She coos," What's wrong? What's happened?"

You sniffle a few more times. "Ta-Ta."

"Hmm." Aitana runs a soft hand over your hair. "You just wanted me, huh?"

"Ta-Ta."

"I understand." She sways you side to side until your sobs have turned into little hiccups of emotion and you're looking up at her with wide, teary eyes.

"Just Estrella and her Ta-Ta," She coos," This is very different, isn't it?"

Aitana sits down on the grass, digging around in one of the bags she brought for your bottle. Your parents had begun to try to wean you but the past week has been so stressful already and she doesn't want to do more to unsettle you.

You suckle aimlessly, one of your hands moving to cover the one of Aitana's that's holding your bottle.

She stares ahead as a familiar face sits down next to her.

By now, she knows that her strange behaviour has spread all over the team. Paredes and Alexia both hover uncertainly nearby like they want to offer help again but don't want to wind her up further.

Across the pitch, Aitana can spot Marta and her Conejita doing arts and crafts together.

It sends a stabbing pain into her chest and the words spill out of her mouth before Keira can even ask.

"She's not mine. I mean, she is but not really."

"Aitana, I don't understand."

"Her parents...my friends..." Her throat closes up. "I was babysitting last week for date night and they...A drunk driver hit them."

"I'm sorry. Are they-?"

Aitana shakes her head. "They're in comas. They put me down as Estrella's guardian. I...They...I'm trying my best."

"I'm sure you are. You must love her a lot."

"She's mine," Aitana chokes out," Biologically. She's mine. They-They couldn't get pregnant and I offered to donate an egg and we agreed I'd be fun Tia Ta-Ta..."

"Oh, Aitana..."

The tears are running down her cheeks now and she's can't stop them.

"They were going to have date night with her last week. They said that they'd find something baby friendly but I insisted. It was so close. She could have...Keira, she could have died."

Keira glances at you. You're so comfortable in Aitana's arms and, now that she's really looking, she can see the similarities between the both of you.

You both have the same crying face.

"But she didn't," Keira says," You were looking after her, Aitana. You had her. You kept her safe."

"Ta-Ta?" Your tone is questioning and your little pudgy hands come up to touch her cheeks.

"I'm fine, estrella," She says to you as her phone rings. She already knows who is calling. Somehow, she already knows what they're going to tell her. "Why don't you hang out with your fun Tia Keira? I'll be back in a second."

"Ta-Ta!" You whine as you're shuffled from Aitana to Keira.

"Just a minute. Then it's Ta-Ta and Estrella time."

As she answers the phone, Aitana knows that's it's going to be Ta-Ta and Estrella time forever now.

#woso x reader #aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

827 notes · View notes

hannieehaee · 6 months

Note

minghao fits for your love by måneskin so much like he would be that much of a simp for his partner

18+ / mdi

content: simp!minghao, softdom!minghao, afab reader, established relationship, smut, mentions of fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1103

a/n: i absolutely agree his ass would be absolutely obsessed w his partner (give him to me).

masterlist

your relationship with minghao had always been pure bliss. he gave every part of himself to you, and you did the same. your joy was his, and he could relish in knowing that this was mutual.

however, it could never be truly mutual.

not to insinuate that minghao loved you more than you did him (he did), but minghao knew there was just no way for you to fully grasp the way he felt for you. he was certain no one could ever love anyone as much as he did you.

whenever minghao was around you, he was overtaken by this possessive nature that made him dependent on your attention. he wanted to be the first thought in your mind every morning, the song stuck in your head, the only man you ever thought of.

normally, he'd be embarrassed by displaying such neediness for someone, but he couldn't help but relish in his feelings for you. your constant encouragement also didn't help.

it was like heaven, your relationship. he loved loving you, and you reeled him right in with every single look. knowing that you enjoyed his affections as much as he enjoyed giving them to you had him on a constant high.

and this dynamic showed up in every aspect of your relationship.

from domestic mornings in which he'd hold you from behind and breathe in your scent as you cooked breakfast for him. to nights spent suffocating between your thighs as you cried his name and pulled at his hair. your pleasure was his own, and nothing made him feel more complete.

"h-hao, you don't have to-"

"need it. it'll feel so good, angel", he practically growled against your ear, his stomach caving in at the pretty sighs you were letting out at his simplest touches.

"but you already made me cum with your fingers two times ... need you, hao," you whined, making meek efforts to draw his fingers away despite his strong hold on you.

you were currently sitting between his legs, back against his chest as he took turns between fondling your breasts and playing with your cunt. by now, he had already driven you to orgasm with his fingers two times over, and had now begun to entice you into letting him lay you on the bed so he could take his rightful place between your legs.

despite all your weak attempts at convincing him of letting you have his cock, he managed to convince you to let him have his way with you through soft touches and sensual caresses.

now between your legs, he did his usual routine of kissing up and down your thighs, sucking and licking at the supple skin as you breathed so prettily above him.

"h-hao. fuck, please ..." you cried after a good five minutes of his teasing.

"i know, angel. 'm just enjoying you, yeah? love this pretty body so much ... wanna mark it everywhere. make it mine," his eyes never left your body, completely hypnotized at the sight.

"but i need you so bad. want you to fuck me, please- ah!"

he interrupted your pleas by finally diving into your cunt, going at full force despite his previously soft touches. he licked and sucked in ways he knew drove you insane, feeling immense pleasure at the way you'd pull at his hair and wiggle under him at the feeling of his tongue against your cunt.

he could've cum from just this (and he had before), but today he wanted to finish you off as fast as he could. he was craving you around him so badly. the warmth against his face had him groaning at how hotly your cunt would wrap around him in just a few minutes.

his hips canted against the bed against his will, feeling far too aroused to control his body as you cried and cried at his touch. fortunately, he was able to draw you to orgasm before his own took over.

"that's it, beautiful. cum for me, fuck. so pretty ... feel my tongue while you cum, yeah?", he mumbled against your cunt, licking you all through your orgasm. he loved letting you know how much he enjoyed making you cum. it always made you twitch under him and react in ways that had his own mind blanking at the sight.

when he finally brought you back to earth with him, he laid you on the middle of the bed, giving himself room to crawl on top of you. with no warning, he kissed you, forcing your own taste into your mouth. it only took you some second to process his kiss and begin kissing him back, groaning along with him at the nastiness of it.

"gonna give it to you now, okay, angel?", he breathed against your lips, "been so good for me ... love you so much. gonna make you feel so good."

"please. need you so fucking bad. c-can't wait anymore."

he plunged into you after that, eyes rolling back at the warm and wet haven he was now being overtaken by. despite wanting to be soft and doting, his body couldn't help itself. he loved the feeling of you too badly to control his movements. he had been waiting far too long now, giving you three orgasms before seeking pleasure for himself.

"is this what you wanted? hmm? your cunt full of cock?", he loved talking you through it; making you tell him how good he made you feel.

"yes, love it so much! love you so much, fuck."

"l-love you more ... you have no idea, pretty. so fucking addicted to you", he groaned at the way you tightened at his words, "'m so close, shit. need you to cum with me, okay, beautiful? just follow me, yeah?"

"a-anything for you, my love," you sighed, eyes glossy from the tears of pleasure.

he counted you down in whispers against your ear, groaning when you followed through and gave yourself up to him and let your orgasm take over. he did the same, burying his head against your neck to muffle his cries of pleasure.

he slumped against you after his high subsided, giving himself a few moments to recover before cleaning you up with a nearby rag and laying down next to you, holding you against his arms as he did every night.

"my angel ..." he sighed with a kiss against your cheek, "your love is everything to me. you're everything," he mumbled.

you were probably too tired to fully process his words, but they were words he repeated to you every night, so you responded without a second thought, "love you, minghao."

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen #seventeen imagine #svt #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #minghao scenarios #minghao smut #minghao fanfic #minghao x reader #minghao imagines

685 notes · View notes

biscuitsngravie · 7 months

Text

Dancing with the Devil

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Summary: Sukuna's had a shit morning, and what better way to take it out than on you.

Content and Trigger Warnings: free use, no prep (on Sukuna's end, reader preps), creampie, reader is cumdump, reader is a cumslut, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, cunnilingus from the back, vaginal fingering, piv, double penetration, anal sex, angry sex, rough sex, deep penetration, paraphilia regarding voyeuristic sadism, sadisomasochism?, degradation, orgasm control (edging & forced orgasm), multiple orgasms, monsterfuckery is a tag in itself, mating press, doggy style, pussy slapping, choking, size difference, biting, hematophagy/blood letting, blood kink, light possessiveness, spit play/spit as lube, some nipple play/nipple sucking, grinding (kinda), hair pulling, full Nelson (kinda), fear play, cowgirl, overstimulation, scratching, squirting, dacryphilia, fellatio, throat fucking, cum swallowing, slapping, lotus, belly bulge, breeding kink

Word Count: 4.8k

an: this is my first time writing sukuna, pls be kind!! 😣

MDNI 18+

His yelling doesn't disturb you. If anything, it acts as a lullaby, snarls and grunts being the hands rocking your cradle. The crashing of furniture serves as not much more than the ease of nearby waves. The bloodcurdling screams accenting his actions like the songs of cicadas in the wind.

It's a hurried and desperate banging against the door that finally stirs you. Pleads of mercy often go unheard to him, including yours. But the gall to beg his personal toy (a nicer word on a good day) in an attempt to escape his fury? Audacity once flowed as easily as the offender's blood, now adding to a mosaic of evidence that is Ryoumen Sukuna.

The satin slides against your skin as you shift, the flows of fabric slipping across your skin and pooling at your waist as you sit up. It's one of the niceties he's granted you since your... promotion of sorts. Your nipples pebble at the coolness in the air, its temperature challenged by the white hot heat emanating from the worshipped himself.

What's set him off today? A line out of turn? A newfound betrayal? His breakfast not cooked to his liking? These anxieties used to run across your mind, bouncing against the walls of your cranium just to press together into a headache. Though nowadays, despite being directly on the receiving end of his emotions, your job proves rather simple:

When he wants it.

How he wants it.

Wherever he wants it.

Even in your first few minutes of your waking hours does arousal prickle your skin, rippling goosebumps along with the cool, morning air. It warms every part of you, cascading from the center of your chest down your arms, pooling into your core and wetting your inner thighs. The next course of events can only be described as a manifestation of your inner perversion; whether offset by your newfound position or an expression of germinating seeds finally fertilized and enriched by their twisted environment. Anyone who would seem to care to do the research has most likely begun pushing daisies of their own.

But here you are, nipples pebbling the air as your body warms. Deft fingers push aside the satin fabric sitting at your hips to play with your slit, a welcome satisfaction when your fingers are met with a slickness. Your clit aches and begs for your attention with insistent throbbing, but you tease yourself much in the way he would. Using your other hand, you play with your nipple, pinching and squeezing the bud, moaning as a bolt of electricity shoots straight back down to your leaking cunt. You think to yourself about how much he loves watching your chest as you ride him, his satisfied smirk as you bounce on his cocks.

“Fuck…”

The flashback brings you to full on fingering yourself, slipping two in with ease, but ultimately missing the burning feeling of him stretching you out. With the flat of your palm pressed against your clit, you throw your head back, groaning as you think of him. Every scream fuels you. Every desperate cry for help before it's mangled into a jumbled gurgle as he rips people to oblivion. You can't help but fall back and roll over, nearly humping your hand as you try to grind into it.

"Please! I didn't-"

You grab the tororo-jiru — yams grated down to a slick — on your nightstand and begin prepping your other hole. The pressure isn't the same as when you're stuffed full, but it'll have to do for now.

"I-I can help you! Please li-"

You buck your hips at every shriek, heat emanating from your body and building a sheen of sweat over you. The sheets cling to your damp skin wherever it touches. More. More.

"My children! I have children, please!"

You cry out in tune with his next victim. Though on opposite ends of the spectrum, your shared agony is caused by the same figure. Your lower belly tightens at the thought as you pulsate around your fingers. You squeeze them as you lament that you can't have more. More.

That coil comes in on itself, tightening as it hurdles you towards the edge. "Hah… mmmph!"

You bite your lip and move your hips even faster, humping your hand like a damned dog in heat.

"Horny little bitch."

The cause of Sukuna's distress this morning? Maybe it was the duck - undercooked and underdressed, naked on a plate without a medley of vegetables for his taste. Maybe that would've been permissible if they hadn't put too much wheat in his hishio, leaving it dry and all too crumbly. If that one troglodyte brought him the sake like he ordered asked, there wouldn't have been an issue. Even the raging boners he was afflicted with weren't bothering him all that much - your chambers were near enough.

Possibly the worst solution of irritancies, undealt with arousal, and mostly likely hanger brought him to summon cleave on the next servant who brought him a dining platter. The grating screams of horror that usually played melodically in his ears only fueled his growing impatience and unamusement. Something that was amusing though?

Your scrambles for deceny (why?) and slew of apologies pull him out of his momentary stupor. You cling to the satin sheets, uncaring or unaware of the splotches of dampness, a mixture of your wetness and the lubrication. Even so, you hold the crimson fabric to yourself and gaze up at him. He watches the rapid rise and fall of your chest, sure your heart is beating so fast it’ll break your ribs and lay splayed on the floor. He can smell a familiar scent, one that intoxicates him when he begins his tireades, infiltrating his nostrils like stray fern spores. Or at least he thinks he does. Fear, is it not? But as he traces your form, unnecessarily wrapped in flimsy threads, he picks up on the small notes that change the chemistry of it all.

“Are you… embarrassed?”

If you weren’t before, you for certain are now. The draw of your knees up to your chest, and the subtle quiver of your lip answer long before you do. “I-I… did you need comforting, my Lord?”

Sukuna squats down to your level. While the room is known as “your” chambers, the term is used as a marker of where you should be, rather than what “yours.” You sleep on a futon elevated not much more than a foot and a half off the ground beside a heighted California King sized bed. The material and stuffing is changed regularly, though considering the activities that perspire in this room, it’d be a crime if it weren’t.

The bed itself is preserved for Sukuna for the occasion that he does decide to sleep here. Even though you’re his favorite, he often sleeps alone since four arms, along with other appendages, get rather hot — especially after he’s done with you. Two years since you’ve offered yourself up for him, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He sneers at you, baring his fangs in what he considers in resemblance to a “smile.” Balanced on his haunches with two arms resting on thighs thick as logs, he reaches out with his upper left hand to snatch away your covering. He swallows his comment on how damp and limp the fabric is when he spreads your legs with his upper right. You fight for only a fraction of a second before letting yourself be laid bare.

He lets out a low whistle and begins reaching right towards your heat. The chuckle he has can be felt through the vibration in his fingertips as he runs his fingers through your folds. This is normal. This is just another day, but today…

“My Lord—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

The lightest of thumb presses to your clit has you whimpering. This is normal. He’s seen you naked more times than you’d ever care to count. He’s come to you, teasing and playing with your sensibilities and rationalities after a rampage many, many times before. But this…

Are you… embarrassed?

Though you’re one of many for him, he’s the only one for you. Many years from now, a dictionary will be drafted, and your name will be cited for “insatiable slut.” Between his visits you often find yourself craving even the slightest hint of acknowledgement from him. A brief glance from just one of his eyes would have you trembling with your hands between your thighs for hours. So of course when he’s on his tantrums you beg above for his warpath to lead to your room, but he’s never caught you like this.

He’s never caught you knuckles deep at the presumption that he’d be finding comfort in you today. He’s never seen you masturbate in search of self-fulfilling pleasure. It’s always been a show of sorts for him: fascinating and occasionally grating as you both waited for you to be “ready.”

So yeah, of course you’re fucking embarrassed.

He touches you differently now: curiosity leads him through your heat and up to your clit, pressing against it again. He focuses the eyes on his second face on yours, while his others stay trained on the small shudder that starts from your thighs and dances to your pert nipples. He catches the way your hand starts to grip onto the fabric under you and presses again, harder.

Your hips buck into his hand in tandem with a moan that dies as quickly as it comes when you remember his command. You bite your lip to kill any other sounds that dare to escape you, throwing your head back to sniffle as he begins circling it with his thumb.

His bottom eyes catch the way your toes begin to curl and he chuckles again. The vibration goes straight to your clit, and your legs fly to wrap around his forearm. “Ah ah ah…” he finally puts his bottom arms to use to hold your legs open. “Bet you like that shit, huh?” He drops the blanket he held in his upper left arm to run two fingers over your heat, glistening as his thumb speeds up. “All of ya are always playin’ with this even with my cocks in you. Feel good?”

You sniffle and nod weakly. You swear your back is going to break with how hard you’re arching off the futon. Your breathing becomes erratic as you try to hold yourself. He’s touching you. Like, actually touching you.

“‘Please?’ Please what?”

“Please… here,” you began leading his hand towards your center, "I wanna come…”

“Don’t forget your place. Do that shit yourself.”

Since that time early on, you’d learn to keep your pleas of desperate yearning to yourself. You played with your own nipples, toyed with your clit yourself, and paved your way to your orgasms. If you came that day, good for you. If you didn’t, all parties failed to see how that was his problem. But today…

The way he holds you, the way his fingers dig into your heat, exploring the warmth that’s so frequently wrapped around one or both of his cocks. The hum of inquisitiveness when he presses against a spongy surface inside you is too much to handle. It’s all overwhelming, the way your body becomes feverish with every stroke, thick fingers stretching you out the way your own never could. The euphoria leaves you lightheaded. Your breaths shallow as it takes everything out of you to stay grounded on cloud nine.

“Hey!” Sukuna moves his thumb away from your clit to slap your sopping cunt. “Answer the question.” The action itself isn’t too rough, but your sensitivity has you jolting. You whine and squirm under him, fighting the hold on your legs in futility. Before you can snap up to register what’s happening, a grip around your throat brings you back up to face him. All four eyes focus on you. Though not necessarily peeved, irritance makes its presence known on his faces.

“Answer.”

The lone word has you clenching around his fingers. Your breath quickens under the scrutiny of his gaze, hitching in your throat when he puts pressure on the sides. You will your eyes to remain forward to meet his and not roll into the back of your skull. With an uneven voice you whimper, “I d-do… my Lord.”

“Hmm,” he hums again, lazily scissoring you as he thinks. Torturously slow strokes keep your orgasm at bay as he ponders to himself. Continuing with his upper left hand, he reaches for the spot he found earlier and relishes in the pathetic mewl it pulls from you. He removes his fingers to inspect the newfound slick that’s gathered around them down to the knuckle. “Hmph.”

You look off to the side in shame, unable to turn your head away with his hold. His scent wafts up your nose, sneaking up into your senses and settling in the back of your throat. The slight metallic tinge from previous bloodshed mixes with the bourbon undertone that emanates from his skin. Oils and perfumes that have long since settled fuzzy your senses, though you’re still present enough to reach down and cover yourself. The everpresent vulnerability cuts through the surface, urging you once again for unneeded modesty.

Yet another smirk paints his lips. He takes the hand covered in your wetness and grabs your wrists in one motion. He lets go of your throat so that he can raise your arms over your head, laying you down on your back. Adjusting his hands on your thighs, he spreads you open to a with your knees pressed against your chest. The stretch isn’t unfamiliar, but it still has you holding your breath.

Inching closer and closer, he wraps his hand around your throat again, arching over you. He loves the way you feel beneath him: the fragility of your form despite the way you crave him. Need him. He loves that your body gives way to his greed, taking every touch as a godsend. Though you both know heaven is far from where he’s from. He can’t get the enough of how you—

Sukuna breaks out of his own musings to refocus himself, tucking his face into your neck. Embarrassment and shame greet him again, dancing across his olfactory palette and swelling both his cocks. “Listen here, you bitch,” he husks against the column of your throat, tracing your pulse point with his fangs, “don’t you dare cover what’s mine.”

His bottom arms make quick work of his kimono. He lets you go for a moment to free himself completely. Despite the staining on his garments, he was sure to at least wash his hands, wary of the “burning” you wouldn’t shut the fuck up about a few weeks ago. He doesn’t know if he would’ve cared so much if it hadn’t spread to him and the others, causing a discomfort he would not live through again.

You barely get a chance to observe his physique — taut muscles that proudly sport the tattoos banding across his chest — before the world goes dark as he leans over you again. He forces his faces into your neck, the rough skin of his second face nuzzling into the suppleness of your own. His bottom arms angle your legs outward to keep his pussy on display. When he catches the hint of a whine, his upper right hand covers your mouth to save himself of your pathetic squalling. His left begins to occupy itself with your nipple, pinching and twisting it between rough fingertips.

Pain and pleasure intertwine again, concocting a cocktail of endorphins that goes straight from your brain right back down to your cunt. That’s when you notice it:

The heat you feel is not just your own, but his second mouth panting there. The lips are barely close enough to brush against your own. Sukuna pulls back to watch your face, already twisting in pleasure, but morphing into something else completely as his tongue envelopes you. The ridges of his taste buds are hot against your his pussy, rubbing against your clit as his tongue darts out to lick you again. You whine and throb on the muscle as it encases your vulva, helplessly rutting to the best of your ability. “Mmmph!”

He hooks your legs into his elbows on his bottom arms this time, pressing his second face into you even moreso. Hot pants wet your skin as he feels his own arousal growing. Every vibration against his palm fuels his cocks. It makes it harder and harder not to reach down to relieve the ache that’s becoming unbearable. Sucking on the skin of your neck, he continues to work his second mouth, lapping up the slick as it gathers there. “Fuck, didn’t know you tasted this good. Shoulda done this a long time ago,” he says gruffly, moving his hand from over your mouth to your shoulder to mitigate your squirming.

You shudder at the almost compliment. Everything is electrifying, making you feel weak all over. The only strength you have is in your hands and in your thighs, your fingers digging crescents into your palms. Sukuna, as many times as you two have engaged, has never cared to even pay an ounce of attention to your pleasure if it wasn’t self-serving. His exploration via his newfound curiosity, though still centered on his own inquisitiveness, makes it easier to delude yourself into thinking you’re a priority. “J-just f’you, m-my Lord.”

A low rumble vibrates throughout the two of you, an audible marker indicative of his amusement. The cry you let out from him pulling at your nipple has him bucking his hips into your futon. “Fuckin’ better be.”

Before you can affirm your allegiance, a burning in your thigh has you gasping. You wince as a sharp pain travels from there to the tip of your toes, all of your nerves standing on end as you register what’s happened to you. Squinting your eyes to look down, you see that one of his fangs from his lower mouth has sunk into the flesh there. It just barely pierces the skin, but the suddenness amplifies the pain before subsiding to a dull throb. He releases you to lick the small trickle of blood that begins to stain his lips.

“Looks like all of you tastes good,” he laughs before sinking his teeth into your shoulder, tasting the slight saltiness in the iron notes that fill his senses. He watches his handiwork mark your skin, traveling down to the similarly colored fabric beneath you. The urge to lap it up is pushed aside for an admiration of your state of being.

It feels strange. He’s not new to your fidgety nature, to your addiction to him. Yet the state you’re in, the way your body undulates with every probe — it ignites something new within him. With the taste of you still fresh on his tongue, he finds himself chasing a new kind of high.

The hand that plays with your nipple redirects to fondling your breast. The shock of the pain from the bite is easily overshadowed by this action, causing you to lean off the futon into his touch. Your moans flow freely into the air, as you writhe in pleasure. Between his hands and tongue, your body itself seems unable to decide where to find its bliss. It’s a sight Sukuna is beginning to find rather gratifying. You reach for your left nipple with your free hand, but it’s quickly slapped away with his right. “Always so fucking greedy.”

He finally rises to his knees again. His figure looks entirely too large on your futon. Part of you wonders if the structure can even support his weight, much less what’s about to take place. But the feeling of emptiness, the longing for him to fill you with something again, anything, overrides any and all of your worries.

All eyes focus on you, divided between your shiny cunt saturated in his saliva and your puffy nipple reddened under his abuse. His own cocks gleam with precum and the drool dripping from his lower mouth.

Sukuna pulls you closer, replacing his bottom right arm with the top one to stroke his second cock. He hisses at the relief, watching that needy little hole of yours clench around nothing. “Look at you,” he says breathily before spitting on your cunt with his second mouth, “no matter how many times I fill you up, you’re still such a needy little bitch.”

He lines himself to slam into you, his top cock slapping against your abdomen. “Ahh! Fuck yes… please please please…”

Your eyes cross with a flashing behind your lids. Jerking at the sudden stretch, you reach out to his forearm with a grip that has your nails digging into muscle. A sniffle accompanies a trail of drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. The abrupt intrusion has your gummy walls gripping his cock tight, pulsating around him.

“Fuck! Geez bitch, let up!” he half smirks with the way your pussy chokes his cock. “Gonna break it off, shit. Ay!” He slaps at your clit to catch your attention. It snaps you back to listen to his words. “Let up, damn.”

When you catch a whiff of irritation laden within his voice, you start the process of self-regulation. Breathe… Breathe… Breathe…

“There ya go…” He slowly pulls back and half-heartedly snorts at the way you’ve already saturated his length. He stops right at the tip and gleams at how your body desperately tries to suck him back in.

“My L-”

Redirecting his hand on your breast back to your throat, you take the hint and purse your lips together. Besides a low sniffle and the tiniest of bucks from your hips, your pleas for more die within you.

“Since you’re such a fucking slut…” He lines his bottom cock at your entrance. Its slightly thicker mushroom tip prods gently at first, teasing at the sliver of space.

“I…” A whimper catches your voice in your throat as you helplessly tremble beneath him. Chills run through you as the revelation sobers your pleasure-drunk brain. “I can’t. Ah!”

Sukuna tries not to chuckle in amusement as his cockhead bullies its way into your leaking cunt. “Yeah you can. I saw one of ya put an arm in there. Quit your whining. Fuck…” Your walls clamp down on him once he gets the tip in, and he just as tightly takes his lip between his teeth. He slowly sinks into you, feeling the way your body stretches and quivers as it accommodates the intrusion. Once his bottom cock is securely seated, he hooks your legs back into the elbows of his lower arms, his upper right occupying itself with your nipple.

It hurts. It hurts. It… It…

The searing pain folds in on itself, condensing from the shockwave that racked you initially and focusing in on your core. It…

Your gummy walls spasm around him uncontrollably, as you latch onto him, your nails tearing into flesh and marking him as he does you so often. You don’t even hear his comments as your body tries to process what’s happening. It…

With more saliva coating the space between you from the mouth on his stomach, it makes the first few movements of his hips near comprehensible before a quick snap forces you back into reality.

It’s bliss.

The pressure, the fullness. The way they press into grind against your g-spot with every thrust. It’s…

“S-so much!” Your brain melts and melds with the burning in your cunt as he speeds up. Each plunge into you kisses at your cervix, accentuated by the echoing squelches you two make. Your toes are curled so hard you swear it feels like they’re going to break. Just like the skin under his bottom hands, already bruising from the grips they have on your hips.

“Don’t fuckin’ run from it. This is what you wanted, so take it.” His pace stutters when you clamp down him, but he quickly recovers and reaches down between you with a hold on your waist with his upper left arm. “That’s right, keep it tight for me.”

Everything washes over you in waves: the pain from his hands on your hips; the pleasure from the one on your nipple; the mix of them both as he pounds into you relentlessly with reckless abandon. His grunts work further to feed the arousal leaking from your cunt, while that same cunt milks both of his cocks at every turn.

That’s why you can’t help but scream in frustration when he slows down to nearly a halt. “S-Sukuna please!” It happens so quick it takes you seconds after to process it, the stinging and reorientation of your gaze the only indicators of what’s happened. You hold your face at where he struck you. Know your place. “M-my… my Lord,” you say quietly, sniffling more from the denied orgasm rather than the strike itself, “I need—”

“Look.” All four eyes point downward and you follow their lines of vision. He’s nearly all the way out, only the tips of his cocks holding their place. He briefly glances up with one eye to ensure you’re paying attention right before he pushes back into you. He places your hand right over your abdomen as he does, and you both feel and watch the way your body molds around him, pushing against your skin and almost frighteningly bursting at the seams.

“Nnnngh…” You sniffle as he repeats the action over and over, incrementally increasing the pace. The coil inside you tightens as you follow the rise and fall of your abdomen. Every time he impales you, your wanton moans become choked, almost as if he’s fucking your throat right through the pussy. Your nails carve chasms into his skin as you will yourself to stay tethered. Each grunt in your ear has you clamping around him, causing a stutter in his hips before driving into with more fervor.

Sukuna pulls away a bit to take the sight in with his lower eyes. The frothing at the bases of his cocks is dizzying and has him swearing to himself. “That’s right, take it. Only thing a slut like you was made for. Nothing but a fucking pocket pussy—”

“Augh!” You cry out when your orgasm crashes over you, your thighs shaking in his hold. Sukuna hisses at the way your walls choke him, halting as you weakly grind on him to ride out. Your chest burns with each heave, and your breath catches in your throat when you feel Sukuna slide out without much care at all. It’s then that you notice the slight chill in the air again, goosebumps pimpling your skin with the newfound sheen of sweat that covers you.

He lets out a slow whistle with the brief comment of “Wow,” his eyes raving over every inch of you. He’s never paid much attention before, but seeing the way your eyes fall heavy and limp, much like the rest of you, this is something he might be able to get used to. His cocks twitch at the view, leaking precum and dripping in your combined wetness. It all drips down to his balls, aching, heavy, and full. “Get up.”

You try catching your breath, but moving your arms is as easy as lifting a tractor. Lead fills your limbs and renders you immobile as you continue to spasm around the ghost of his lengths that once filled you. Trembling lips move with difficulty as you try to form thoughts with the mush that’s replaced your brain. “I-I…” The dryness of your throat cracks your voice when you try again. “I c-can’t.”

With a roll of his eyes and a click of his tongue, he picks you up and leans back against the wall, situated at the head of your futon. He presses your back flush to his chest, spreading your legs open with his bottom arms while holding your throat with his upper left.

“My Lord?” Your quizzical tone goes unnoticed, or rather, ignored as he positions your body to his liking. Despite your eagerness to please normally making the process easy, the wake of your climax makes you even more pliable.

He grabs your breast with your right, palming it briefly before forming a mouth, sucking and flicking your nipple with his new tongue. The pleasure almost stings with your newfound sensitivity, but he presses his hand firmly every time you try to squirm. The lips latch on, tugging occasionally tugging and nipping at the bud caught between them. The graze of fangs sends a shudder throughout your chest and has you whimpering beneath his touch. It’s all overwhelming again when you feel a tongue prod at your entrance, the tip of of it flicking against your core from the mouth on his stomach.

“I didn’t say we were done.”

~~~~~~~~~~

an: hope you enjoyed! This is just the first part, but all the tags will remain on this one so to give ppl a heads up for the overall vibes. Looking forward to giving y'all the next part when it's ready!

Taglist: @yasminessims @ryomens-vixen @littlemochabunni @honeeslust @blkkizzat @arlerts-angel @halobuns @gojos-thot-patrol-main @connorsui @screampied-main @lem-hhn @sugarbarbie-main

Pls lmk if you wanna be tagged/if I forgot to tag you!

#jordussy speaks #jordussy #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna #true form sukuna #true form sukuna x reader #true form sukuna smut #monster fucker #jjk smut

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ohtobeleah · 8 months

Text

Cards Close to the Chest // Bob Floyd

Summary: When Bob & Phoenix fall from the sky, Bob’s closest kept secrets come to light as two of the most important people in his life race to his side.

Warnings: Bob Floyd x F!reader. Fluff (poorly written) Mild cock-sure Jake Seresin. Hospitals. F18 accident. Wholesome read.

Word Count: 3k

Author Note: I was just feeling some fluffy Bob content and I thought this would be a good way to break up the tension with all my over dramatic angst/whump. Thank you so much to @a-reader-and-a-writer for beta reading this for me! Vee did gods work with this one.

Main Masterlist | Bob Floyd Masterlist

No significant other wants to receive that call. That dreaded call that tells you that the inevitable has happened. That phone call that sucks all the air from your lungs and replaces it with cement. The very phone call that alters your perception of life, of time, of all the small arguments you ever had with the person you love so dearly. It's the phone call no significant other wants to receive.

“Is this Mrs Floyd?” The man on the other end of the line asked with a cautiousness that told you he really didn't want the answer to be yes. Your daughter, Millicent, sat in her high chair smashing bananas all over the surface of her tray. Getting to know the texture of the latest solid you had introduced her to.

“This is she? May I ask who's speaking?” You didn't mean to come across as defensive, but the panic inside your chest had well and truly begun to bloom. Your eyes lingered over to the pair of spare reading glasses your husband left lying around the small apartment the two of you and your young daughter had been staying in. If this was the phone call, the very phone call that was about to alter your life forever you couldn't help but to think of the last time you saw your husband wear those frames.

“Mrs Floyd, Y/n, my name is Pete Mitchell, Captain Mitchell, or Just Mav will do–” The man on the other end of the line rambled off the list of names he went by. You didn't care all that much, but you let him go on. Your eyes drifted back toward your daughter, the very embodiment of half you and half your husband. Robert Floyd. In your mind, you prayed to whatever god was listening that this wouldn't be the phone call every military spouse dreaded.

“There was an accident during a training exercise your husband was involved in this morning.” The words all sounded broken and inaudible, all but the few key details.

‘Husband’ ‘Involved’ ‘Accident’

“Is he–” Mav knew what the question was going to be, so he gave you no chance to ask, he wanted to be the one to call, he wanted to be the one to tell you that although your husband had been involved in a training accident, he was still in one piece and very much alive.

“He's alive, still very much in one piece ma’am–” Mav caught himself smiling ever so slightly, despite the looming knowledge in the back of his mind that the situation could have been a lot worse. “They want to keep him overnight for observation, so if you'd like to come in and see him, I'm sure Bob would really appreciate it.”

The sigh that left your body, the shock that overwhelmed you, the tears that stained your cheek you weren't aware were there all told you one thing—you couldn't live without your husband.

“O–okay.” You nodded to yourself as if the man on the other end of the line could see you. “Y-yes, I’ll, uh, just get our daughter sorted and I'll be right in.”

It was then Maverick’s turn to sit in the deafening silence that threatened to consume his entire being. Bob had a daughter? That added a whole other layer to the incident he hadn’t accounted for.

Bob kept that card close to his chest, his daughter, Mille, was his pride and joy.

“Try to keep in mind he's okay Mrs Floyd,. Your husband’s a very skilled weapons system officer and his training truly saved his life today.” You hadn’t taken your eyes off your daughter since you remembered how to breathe as you stood in the middle of the small apartment kitchen. She was so innocent, so young, so mesmerised by her dad that she would have known something was wrong if he didn't come home.

“It's never been my husband's ability that I doubt, Captain Mitchell.” You replied as you wiped away your tears and reached for a sponge to go about cleaning up your daughter's high chair mess. “It's the system he works for that keeps me up at night.”

***~***~***~***~***~

Jake Seresin had never been so relieved when he was told that both Bob and Phoenix were alright and almost injury-free. Phoenix had a few bumps and bruises, a minor cut on her forearm, and a minor concussion that would surely see her grounded for a week at the minimum.

Bob was the same, only his ribs had taken a pretty nasty beating when he hit the ground with an unprecedented amount of force. Still, the usually arrogant, somewhat self-loathing, and above all infuriatingly good aviator wasn't about to say how relieved he truly was.

But he did, however, offer to take Phoenix some personal belongings for her overnight stay in the chateau short-stay ward of the Miramar Base Hospital.

“Just hold on a minute, sweetheart!”

Jake didn't mean to stick his nose where it didn't belong, but the ear-piercing cries of a child that couldn't have been any older than one broke him out of his mid-afternoon trance. The carpark at the Base hospital was packed to the rafters, but surely there would have been a parent’s park closer to the entrance?

Jake wished with every fibre of his being that he could have kept walking, he wished he just could have kept putting one foot in front of the other. But his mother raised him right. With a heavy sigh and a regret deep in his chest, Jake doubled back a few paces and turned his attention to the woman struggling to get up the stroller.

“Ma’am, I hate to be a bother but do you need a hand?”

“Me?” You turned around to address the man who’d been the only person to stop while others had walked right on past and whispered under their breath. Some had even stopped to watch, but no one had offered a hand. “Yes, yes please I just need someone to–”

Assessing the situation, Jake was sure he knew what the issue was.

Within a few seconds of you trying to explain what was wrong, the man who’d stopped to help had placed the bag he was carrying over his shoulder down onto the ground and stepped hard onto the safety that was jammed.

“How did you know to do that?” You asked with a look of disbelief as you immediately raced around to grab your daughter out of the car. She was distraught. “Shhh, I’m here, see I told you just a few minutes, didn't I baby?” You tried your best to soothe the crying tot.

“My sister has the same stroller, gets jammed all the time.” the man smiled politely as he stood by the now perfectly erected stroller. “Jake, Jake Seresin.”

“I recognise the callsign–” You replied when you finally allowed yourself to take in what the man was wearing. The same Nomex flight suit your husband frequented more often than not. “Yeah, Hangman, you work with my husband.” You beamed as you bounced your daughter softly until she was calm enough to be placed into her stroller.

Jake was racking his brain trying to figure out who the hell your husband was. He thought he knew everything about everyone he worked with. From the secrets Rooster tried to keep to the fact Payback had a raging nut allergy. BuUt a wife and child? Who the hell had a wife and child and hadn’t bothered to mention it?

“I work with your husband?” Jake repeated back to you like he was still trying to play catch up. “Sorry, I must be having a mind blank, with all due respect to your husband.”

“Bob Floyd?” You mentioned your husband's name like it was honey on your tastebuds. Jake truly couldn't compute what you were saying. Bob fucking Floyd was married? Bob Floyd had a kid!? “He had a training accident earlier today with his front seater, scared the absolute hell out of me.” You tried to laugh, but you weren't about to mention to Jake that you'd spent the better half of forty-five minutes in the shower with your daughter having a full-blown panic attack after Mav had called.

“You're Bob's wife?” Jake asked with a frown that was so deeply indeed on his forehead you truly weren’t sure what was so wrong about the fact you were Bob's wife. “Bob has a wife?” As you clipped your daughter in, Jake picked up the bag he’d been carrying up to the entrance of the hospital before he stopped to help you.

“Together seven, married for three.” You proudly smiled as you started walking your daughter’s stroller towards the hospital. Jake kept himself in line, walking by your side as he tried to compute the information he was being delivered. “Bob’s a pretty private person, please don't be offended if he didn't tell you we existed.” This wasn't the first time and you knew it wouldn't be the last time you were left to explain that yes, your husband was in fact your husband.

The chuckle that left Jake's mouth told you it wasn't about being offended.

“No Ma'am, no offence taken–” He explained through the shit- eating grin. “I just wasn't aware Bob had it in him is all.” The idea Bob had a wife was an easier pill to swallow than Bob having a whole ass child. In Jake's mind, Bob was far too ill-equipped to know how to use what he had. Or at least that was the rough opinion he had of the wallflower-esk weapons system officer. “But it's nice to know the guys got a family.”

“He does, he’s got us–” You couldn't help it when your eyes welled with tears. “Isn't that right, Millie girl?”

Jake had never stopped to wonder what the loves of his coworkers were like. Sure, he knew Phoenix and Rooster prior to their return to TopGun, but never once had he stopped to think if Bob had a family.

“He’s a real lucky guy.” Jake confirmed as he walked with you. “Gorgeous wife, cute kid, I'm sure he’s gonna be really happy to see you after the day he’s had.”

***~***~***~***~***~

In all the time Bob had flown for the United State Navy, this had been his closest call with death. The bed sheets that covered the small hospital bed scratched at his exposed skin. The paper-thin hospital gown that now adorned his body left little to the imagination if he stood.

The very last person Bob expected to see enter his hospital room was Jake Seresin. Bob thought he was having an all-out nightmare when the cock-sure aviator walked in with a shit-eating grin as wide as his cheeks would allow him.

“No–no absolutely not.” Bob shook his head in utter disbelief. “You don't get to come in here and give me shit after I fell hundreds of metres out of the sky.” It had been a rough day to say the very least and all Bob wanted more than anything else in the entire world was to hug you and his baby girl. “Hangman, I'm so serious right now–” Bob pressed as Jake stood with a proud chest and that smug ass grin by the door of his hospital room, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

“You know, that's no way to talk to the man who saved your damsel in distress wife in the carpark–” Jake replied as you rounded the corner and pushed your daughter’s stroller into the hospital room. “Funny, I don't think any of us knew you were married, Floyd.”

Bob's demeanour immediately softened as you made your way over with tears of mixed emotions welling in your eyes. Bob’s eyes mimicked yours, those baby blue eyes were quick to fill with clear but heavy tears as you sat on his bedside.

“I'll leave you guys alone.” Jake knew when to leave a room, and he had someone else to go see after all. Phoenix, probably the only woman on the planet who could keep his ego from inflating to new heights. “Put some WD40 on the safety of your daughter's stroller too. It's starting to lock up–” Jake made sure to tell Bob before he left the room, still carrying the bag full of Natasha’s personal belongings he promised he would hand deliver. Bob's precious cargo however, the family that loved him to the moon and back and three times over, seemed like a more pressing delivery to complete first.

“Bob–” Your hands were on your husband's cheeks the second Bob leaned in to kiss your lips ever so tenderly. The pads of your thumbs worked to wipe away the tears that spilled over his lower lash line, staining his cheeks with a salty layer of tears. “What on earth am I gonna do with you, hey?” You smiled through the kiss, speaking against your husband's supplye lips as he tried to keep his composure. “Falling from the sky like that? You scared me half to death.”

“I’m sorry–” It was the first thing Bob was able to muster as you pulled away and reached down for your little girl. “I'm so sorry. Phoenix got us out of a pretty rough spot, she's the reason I'm still here.”

You’d never met the woman who was currently flying with the love of your life, but you had to trust her. There was no room to not to.

“Someone was enjoying her banana mush when Captain Mitchell called.” You explained as you picked up your daughter and handed her to Bob who was waisting with open arms and bright eyes. He was so relieved to be able to hold his daughter again, you could see that much as clear as day. “Isn't that right Millie, yeah–yeah, Dad really threw a spanner in the works, didn't he?”

“Hey, baby girl.” Bob mumbled into the crook of his little girl's neck as he held her close to his chest. The burn in his ribs was worth it as she used his thighs as a stable surface to tiptoe on. “Oh my goodness, I can't even begin to explain how much I love you both.”

“We love you so much.” You leaned in once again to kiss your husband's lips. “I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. You don't get to scare me like this again, okay?”

Bob knew that you knew he couldn't promise you that, that was the worst part. He knew this could happen again and possibly be a worse outcome than this. But Bob also knew you needed reassurance he was here, that he was safe and that he wasn't going anywhere.

Death himself would have to drag him down to hell kicking and screaming before he ever left you.

“I'm not going anywhere baby, not now, not ever.” Bob cooed as he kissed you back, thankful he got to come home to his girls after such a life-threatening accident. The WSO knew he would have to see a shrink before getting in the cockpit again. How he was going to explain away the nightmares of leaving his wife a widow and his daughter fatherless he’d never know. “I’m here, I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere.”

“Phoenix, I don't think you're supposed to be walking?” Jake's voice echoed down the hall as you and Bob looked towards the door of his hospital room. There, in the doorway, stood Natasha Trace with wide eyes and shocked horror written all over her face. It was clear to you at that moment that Bob hadn’t told her either, Bob hadn’t told anyone about you or his daughter. You were the two closest cards he kept close to his chest.

“You have a family!?” Phoenix asked almost as if the answer was unclear. “Bob, you have a family and didn't tell me? Didn't tell any of us?” There was a rhyme to Bob's reasoning as to why he kept the two of you a secret. Bob just wanted something all for himself. He liked to keep his work life and private life as separate as possible. The Navy could be all-consuming on its best days, coming home to you and knowing not a single person could interrupt or stop by was simply the best version of heaven neither Bob could ever think of.

He just wanted his family all to himself, something the Navy couldn't control, couldn't touch, couldn't taint.

“Nix, this is my wife, Y/n, and my daughter Millicent.” Bob introduced the pair of you softly. “My best girls. “My whole world is in these two.”

You sent the clearly distressed aviator a simple smile and a soft wave as you stood from your husband’s beside. You understood this was a lot for her to take in. The idea that her WSo had more to lose than she ever thought.

“I'm still getting over the fact you have a daughter.” Jake interrupted from behind Phoenix as you walked closer to where she stood to take her in a warm embrace.

“Jealousy is a disease, Seresin, I can tell you exactly how I made my daughter too if you want?” Bob held his daughter in hips lap as she babbled to herself as he helped her stand on her feet. She wasn’t walking yet, not even close. But she loved to stand.

“My husband tells me you’re the reason he's still alive.” You spoke to Natasha like she deserved to be told this accident wasn't her fault. It could have happened to anyone. It shouldn't have happened to your husband and his front seater, but that was the luck of the draw–and you were blatantly aware it could have been much, much worse.

“So, thank you for making sure he gets to come home another night.”

***~***~***~***~***~

#bob floyd imagine #bob floyd #bob floyd fluff #top gun bob #top gun imagine #top gun fandom #top gun fanfiction #bob floyd fanfiction

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voiidlizrd · 6 months

Text

My sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

- Sunlight, Hozier

Idia Shroud x Persephone! GN Reader

───────────────

Summary: Azul, a member of the Board Game Club, begins noticing the change is his competitor/friend Idia. He plans to get to the bottom of his unusual behavior…

───────────────

Warning(s): (potential) spoilers for Chapter 6, Idia losing his mind over how much he loves Reader, GN reader, Reader is described to have pointy ears!, Floyd.,

A/N: Idia deserves his time in the spotlight, I love him sm and the trope/parallel of Persephone/Hades for them

─────•~❉✿❉~•─────

Azul doesn’t know much about Idia on a deep personal level. The two are friends, sure, but it isn’t like they share secrets while at a sleepover or have friendship bracelets. It doesn’t bother Azul much, he never had a problem with just being decent friends. While Azul doesn’t know a lot about Idia…

He does know that something is definitely wrong.

It was another club meeting for the Board Game Club. Azul and Idia were playing a game of cards with funny and cute animals on them. Usually Idia would be absolutely destroying Azul at the game— or any game for that matter— but today Idia just stared down at his cards in deep thought. And it wasn’t the usual stare of determination. It was more akin to the thousand yard stare.

It’s been over ten minutes since Azul’s move and Idia hasn’t made a single attempt to outdo his move. Plus he hadn’t blinked in a good two minutes, which creeped Azul out.

Azul clears his throat. “Idia? It’s your move.”

Idia snaps out of his daydream and looks up from his cards with a ‘huh?’, looking down again and setting down another one of his cards, not even bothering to a usual smug declaration or shame Azul for being so stupid for playing such a lame card (which he did on purpose to try and gain Idia’s attention throughout the game).

“Is something the matter?” Azul finally asked after some internal debate. He didn’t want to pry— after all they weren’t all too close— but he just couldn’t stand the unusual silence of the game.

Plus, Azul admits, he’s incredibly nosy.

“Uh…” Idia flushes and rubs the back of his neck, the blue flames of his hair turning pink and even the end of his hair flickering in the shape of hearts, which made Azul’s jaw drop.

“No… I’m okay. Just uh- thinking! Y’know, strategizing! Also your move sucked lololol.”

Well, at least he got a normal Idia despite how horrible his lie was. Azul narrowed his eyes at the Ignihyde dorm leader with a small ‘uh-huh’ and placed down his next card.

“Did something strange happen?”

That’s when Idia lost cool. He was sweating bullets, looking guilty as a sinner in church. “What makes you say that!? Nothing happens! Nothing at all.”

His phone chimes. Idia takes out his phone almost immediately, going over the screen, and smiles. Replying quickly, then pausing, looking up at Azul.

“Uh… I think I’m gonna head back early!” Before Azul could protest or even say a word, Idia grabbed his things with a quickness that Azul hadn’t even seen from him before. “See ya next meeting!”

As Azul watched Idia leave the classroom without even looking back, he quirks a brow, humming in thought.

If there was one thing about Azul, he wasn’t just going to let something like this slide.

He had to find out what’s wrong with Idia!

───────────────

Idia takes his place again at the fountain of the courtyard, the third time this week. Many people are already in their respective dorms, which means Idia is alone with no one in sight, yet still he bounces his leg and looks every which way. The sun has slowly begun to set, given by how the sky turns a yellow, orange, pink, and reddish hue with clouds littering the sky. The running water of the fountain continues to break the silence. The sound alone and the time of day with the scenery no doubt would calm the nerves, but to Idia, he could only feel nervous. His heart pounded, hands growing clammy, and his fingers picked at his painted nails and chipped the polish. He’d have to redo them later.

He checked his phone once, twice, and three more times as he continued to look around. Idia checked the time again and again, checked his notifications (which were mainly with his game notifications, much to his shocking disappointment) and others just junk mail.

The time went by from 6:00 to 6:30 in a flash. He had to go back to his dorm sooner or later before the teachers making their rounds in the halls came by and asked him to leave— for the fourth time in a span of three days this week.

Idia goes back to looking at his phone, opening it, and going to a locked album in his photos with a password that consisted of two special dates combined.

One being his anniversary.

And the other being the day he met you.

Once unlocked, almost thousands of photos and videos appeared on screen, all consisted of you and him in each picture, but mainly only you. He never really enjoyed photos of himself but he’d deal with it for you, always. Idia is convinced that half of his storage on his phone is half dedicated to you. Not to say that the flash drive in his room kept in a locked box in his desk drawer is any different. It’s full of the backups of the photos on his phone and then some.

He clicks a more recent photo of you, though, it was a year ago during the summer time— the one time your parent actually let you see Idia after a long hard month of managing your studies and practicing your magic.

Sat beneath the sun, flowers bloomed beneath you through the sand somehow, a big smile on your face as you face the camera. Idia couldn’t help but let his heart swell as he stared at you. Your hair, your outfit, your skin, your eyes; Idia had memorized it all in his mind, but he could never get enough of it. Even if he could make a perfect replica of you in a game, it wouldn’t feel or look the same. He swiped to another photo, this one being in the fall. Idia was in the photo this time, flushed and flared up as it showed you giving him a kiss on the cheek, leaving a lipstick mark on his pale skin. The next was a picture of Ortho hugging your side.

It kills him every time he sees you in the best way possible. His heart can’t stop racing and his face is an even brighter red, his hair flaring up.

“Idia!” A voice yells from across the courtyard, making Idia perk up in excitement, a smile blooming on his face as the flowers beneath your feet.

There you were. Finally with him at long last. Sure, he talks to you almost everyday through text and chats with you on call, but it’s never enough. He waits for winter and fall every year, the only times of the year where you aren’t busy helping your parent with their business and able to sneak out of school.

Idia stands up to attentions immediately, his arms open to welcome you in them as you slam yourself against him in a hug, almost making him stumble back into the pool of water in the fountain. Idia holds you close, not wanting to miss a moment of your warmth— despite wearing his signature hoodie.

You pull back and peppering kisses along his face, which makes him heat up even further. A dopey smile stretches across his face as he giggles, hands on your waist.

“I missed you!” You held his face in your hands, a loving smile on your face. Hell, he could’ve sworn he saw hearts form in your eyes. Or maybe that was his loser induced brain talking. “You’re so handsome! Have you gotten even more cuter?”

“We FaceTimed yesterday, it’s not like I changed at all.”

“Untrue, you styled your hair a little, didn’t you?” You ran your fingers through his hair, letting the warm flames tickle your skin. “It looks much longer than the last time I saw it!”

“I could get it cut if you don’t like it-“

“Oh shut up! I love it!” Another kiss on his lips, just a light peck, but even with that his hair bursts into large pink flames— almost like a bone fire that was doused in lighter fluid.

“Stoppp…” He says halfheartedly. “My heart can barely take it anymore, the meter is already broken. You’re too OP for me…”

You merely laugh at your fiancés antics.

“WHAT IN THE WORLD!?”

The way Idia jumps into the air is similar to that of a cat being scared of a cucumber. Idia’s head turns to the source of the voice, seeing Azul with the two Leech twins by his side looking shocked— unlike Azul, who looks downright horrified. Or would astonished be the word? Either way, he’s still as his eyes look from you to Idia.

“UH- UHM.”

Idia is panicking. He hasn’t told a single soul about you, not even Lilia whenever they were online and playing together! Of course he never told anyone, you were way out of his league, from a totally different school so who the hell believes “they’re from a different school” anymore!? Not only that, your family was famous for their innovations to helping and saving the planet by starting with agriculture and food! Almost every mom has the famous “guide to good health” in their kitchen!

“I- I don’t know them?”

….

“THE HELL SHROUD!?”

“Dear, I love you very much, but that wasn’t very smart…”

“Firefly Squid has a… partner?” Floyd tilts his head at you, approaching you and then poking you.

“How much is he payin’ you?”

“Excuse me.”

The stare you give Floyd speaks wonders, a pair of thorns growing up your arm as you try and smile politely at Floyd, but it’s more of a grimace.

“Please don’t ever insinuate that I’m using Idia for money.”

Floyd blinks and then grins, all teeth— sharp teeth. “Hey! You’re like a Flowerhorn fishy!”

“ARE WE JUST NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT YOU AND IDIA BEING ALL LOVEY DOVEY?! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ABOUT!?”

Idia seriously wants to die. Like, he wants to melt into a puddle or crawl into a hole where people can’t find him. He puts his face in his hands and groans.

“You must be my Idia’s friends!” “YOUR IDIA!?” “Yes!”

“Idia is my fiancé!”

A beat passes. Then two. A whole minute passes before Azul screams out a ‘WHAT!?’ He grabs Idia and shakes him by the shoulders.

“YOU HAVE A FIANCÉ!? YOU NEVER TOLD ME!? I KNOW WE ARENT CLOSE, BUT WHAT THE HELL MAN!?”

“I DONT KNOW IM SORRY!”

You watch in amusement as Idia is rag-dolled by the meroctopus. Meanwhile you were being inspected by Jade and Floyd, as you’ve come to learn their names are.

“Woaahhh so Firefly Squid has a Flowerhorn as his fiancé! That’s so cute! I wanna squeeze you.~”

“Please don’t touch me.”

“Hehehe you’re funny!”

“Now, now, Floyd,” Jade speaks, placing a hand on his shoulder to restrain his feral twin. “We shouldn’t just bombard them with questions right off the bat. We should get to know them first before anything.”

“Might we ask your name?”

“I’m (Y/N) (L/N), soon to be a Shroud! Or Idia will be a (L/N)… We’re still debating on that.” You laugh a little, looking over them to check on Idia.

Ah, he was sweating buckets while Azul was getting winded over a long lecture, or maybe him ranting. You weren’t entirely sure what he was saying anymore, it all sounded like ravings of a lunatic. Was finding out Idia is engaged that life altering?

“Huh? (L/N)?” That’s when Jade’s eyes lit up and his polite smile grew to be more excited, surprising you. He looked similar to a kid on Christmas. “I have one of your family books on mushrooms and their types as well as their benefits to health. And the special addition ‘Mushroom Advice for Aspiring Potion Makers’. Might I say there are a millions ways you can use a mushroom to make poison.”

You stare at Jade a little astonished that mushrooms were the first thing he discusses, but you can also appreciate mushrooms. They are very special and odd fungi that change every day.

Meanwhile with Idia and Azul.

“WHY IS IT SO HARD TO BELIEVE THAT I HAVE A FIANCÉ, AZUL!?”

…

“OKAY. I KNOW WHY IT’S HARD TO BELIEVE BUT DONT GIVE ME THAT LOOK, MAN!”

Azul was close to pulling out his hair. He can’t believe it. It wasn’t the fact that Idia never told him, it was the fact that this was the very, very, VERY, very last thing Azul expected to be wrong with Idia. In fact, this thought wasn’t even on his mind, it wasn’t even on his list. Why would it be? It was Idia he was talking about! The guy could barely survive being asked what time it was, let alone managing to get engaged!

“Why- No, how??”

That’s when you step in, going past Jade and Floyd to stand beside Idia. “We’ve known each other since we were kids! And I was the one that ‘proposed’. But we were sixteen then, so when we turned eighteen! So we’ve been properly engaged for a year now.”

You hugged his side, Idia smiling softly as you do, looking away at the ground as you practically show him off with pride.

“My question is, why haven’t you told anyone, Idia? Especially after that ghost kidnapping you.”

“The what now?”

Idia tenses as you look at him with a smile. He felt the warm air of the outside just grow cold, cold as the winter.

“Huh? Oh yeah.” Floyd chimes in, laughing. “I remember that! There was this ghost that kidnapped Idia-“

“STOP TALKING-“

“To marry him or something. Pretty weird right?”

The air grows heavy as you continue to stare at Idia, a smile on your face. “Really now?”

Idia audible gulps.

“Yeah! He was really adamant on them not getting married he just wouldn’t explain why… Wait he didn’t tell you?”

“Nope! Not at all.”

Idia gives a nervous smile. “Uh… I can explain?”

A best of silence, then another. The three merfolk looked to one another in the tense silence as you and Idia stared each other down. You waiting for Idia to explain meanwhile Idia was waiting for himself to finish buffering.

“You might’ve said something you shouldn’t have…” Azul clears his throat, very uncomfortable in the silence. Floyd whistles guiltily.

The three slowly back away from the couple. Azul might’ve gotten his answer, but he also might’ve just started an early divorce.

───────────────

A bird chirps overhead as you and Idia stand in front of one another, giving some clarity in the silence, but Idia inside, currently, he was dying inside. He had completely forgotten about the whole “ghost marriage” thing, he had gaslit himself into believing it was all a fever dream, especially with the fact he had to be around a shit ton of people and be put through all of that drama— which, completely drained his social battery to the negatives. Telling you would mean he was worrying you and force you into sneaking out of school— most likely midday— and get yourself in trouble. Your smile was strained, an eyebrow twitching downward into a furrow, your arms crossed. Idia shuffles in place, his hands wringing together and he picks at a hangnail.

“Stop that,” you said softly, despite your little glare. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Sorry…”

“For the picking or the very important thing that you never told me.”

“Both?”

You sigh, shaking your hand, simply holding his hands in yours. You lead him to the fountain and sit him down beside you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I dunno I was just- it was stupid, I don’t even know why it happened. And it was completely exhausting, my mind was racing and I think my life was flashing before my eyes!” Idia began rambling, already sweating. His hands were clammy. “Everything was happening all at once. I just wanted to call you and talk to you after it happened and go to sleep with you talking and-“

“Idia.”

Idia shuts his mouth immediately as you let go of his hands and put his face in your hands, thumbs rubbing the apple of his cheeks. He sighs.

“Sorry… I’m upset cause this isn’t what I wanted to do with you today. Damn Azul.”

“It’s okay Idia, we can still do what you wanted to today.”

“Yeah but I’d have to do it even quicker now because there’s only so much time before you have to go! I can’t speedrun a whole movie! Or maybe I can…”

You chuckle and let go of his face, a hand on his lap. He leans in closer to you, his head on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry I’m a total noob at this. Are you… mad at me? For that whole ghost marrying me thing.”

“Huh? Mad? Why would I be mad?”

“Cause I didn’t tell you about the other woman.”

“PFT- other woman??”

“I DUNNO!?”

“Idia. No, I’m not mad. As long as no other ghost is coming after you, then I won’t turn anybody into a mint leaf.” You pause.

“Can I turn ghosts into plants…?”

“Y/N no.”

“What? I can keep it as an ‘in case’ protocol in case some random ghost lady wants to marry you again.”

“I highly doubt that. Who’d want to marry me willingly?”

You deadpan at him. “I do.”

“Doesn’t count, I’m your last option.”

“Idia!”

“What? It’s true!”

You laugh, making Idia laugh with you, despite knowing that he’ll get an hour long session of you praising him after a self-deprecating comment like that. You thread your fingers through his hair, moving your head to the side further to kiss his forehead. He blushes and moves his face closer into the crane of your neck. He relaxes into your warmth, shutting his eyes. The sound of birds chirping overhead, a peaceful wind passing by, Idia snuggling close to your side as your head rests against his.

Sunflowers bloom at your feet, stems branching up from the ground and brushing against his ankles. They all face him. Idia thinks for a moment that he’s similar to a sunflower, especially when it comes to you.

He’ll always look for you, for his sunlight.

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