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joelmillers-whore · 9 months

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Choking Hazard

summary: you’ve been waiting for joel all day, waiting for him to fuck you like he promised. but when he discovers that you’d gotten yourself off earlier, he makes you pay for being disobedient.

recommended song(s): SLUT ME OUT - NLE Choppa

pairings: joel x reader

word count: 4.1K

series or one-shot

warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, no mention of Y/N, no outbreak, joel miller x female!reader, SMUT, daddy joel can get it, orgasm denial, overstimulation, use of sex toys (vibrator), allusions to female masturbation, cum play, oral (male receiving), praise, slight degradation kink, dirty talk, dom joel, choking on cock, fingering but for only a second, rough blowjob, lots and lots of teasing, edging, pet names (mostly baby and sweetness, a lil darlin' in there too), porn without plot, cum facial, cum eating, spitting

A/N: JUST SOME GOOD ‘OL DIRTY SMUT FOR YOU ALL. i don’t know what this is but i saw a picture on pinterest of a pair of boxers that had the words ‘choking hazard’ written on the crotch and my dirty mind ran with it lol.

You’d been waiting not so patiently for Joel to get home from work and it was killing you. He’d left your whole body on fire, each searing touch licking at your flesh, each hungry look he gave another nail in the coffin for your pride. Because you wanted it— needed it, and he was all too aware of that fact.

You were so turned on that the slightest brush at just the right angle could knock into you and you’d probably cum on the spot. Your need was bad, and deadly, and it didn’t help much that Joel enjoyed it. He got a kick out of torturing you, holding your release just out of reach that you’d be willing to ruin yourself for a single moment of pleasure.

The taunting had become a test between you, each measuring your limits and how much you could take. This time was no different. With dark and rounded eyes, Joel had gripped you hard by your chin, almost painfully so, and demanded that you not touch yourself, not give into the temptation of your orgasm.

And then, he did the most menacing thing he had ever done. He left you alone and completely to your own devices, if not for a small keepsake of multiple and agonizingly strong bursts of tremors every hour.

Your nipples hardened into painful peaks, pressing into the abrasive material of your shirt and torturing you with equally blissful and confusing sensations. You snapped your eyes shut, rolling your head to the side as a powerful buzz rocketed through you, sending vibration after vibration shooting from your core, through the expanse of your body and settling low in your stomach, nudging you closer to your orgasm.

It was demented what he was doing to you; his little science experiment like you were some sort of fucked-out lab rat. It was drawn out and bordering on sadistic, and you couldn’t do anything but take it.

Before heading out for the day, Joel had instructed you to get on the bed and spread your legs. His voice had been low, lethal, the edge of it shooting straight to your core, turning you into a needy slut. You’d whined, and begged, but Joel wouldn’t have it.

It was his time, his moment, and he wasn’t going to allow you to take that away from him. You had thought that he would be kind, that he would leave you with a parting gift. Maybe an orgasm to satiate your hunger for him until he came back home. Instead, your lips turned down, your brows furrowing in confusion when he’d revealed a small box, holding up a strange-looking device.

Your core fluttered and came to life as you laid eyes on the toy. The pink, smooth vibrator promising endless pleasure that you’d happily give into. As you inspected it, your walls clamped around nothing, eyes dragging over the silicon material that curved at the end.

It reminded you of Joel’s cock and you bit down on your lip, suppressing a moan, not wanting to give Joel any more ammunition than he already had.

You were roughly pulled toward the edge of the bed, feeling Joel’s massive and calloused hands grip you, making you squirm away from his touch out of reflex. He grabbed your ankles, soft fingers contrasted against the strength behind his grip.

Each and every nerve was awakened, charged, as if at a molecular level, you had been starved. You’d be lying to yourself if you said that the way he was looking at you, through heavy lids, his eyes glinting with devilish intent, wasn’t turning you on. Because it was.

You both knew it. You could feel the prominent wetness in your underwear grow in size and at this rate, you’d be drenched by the time he got you out of them.

He wasted no time shimming you out of said panties, forcefully lifting your hips and tugging them down your legs. It was rushed, quick, as if at any second he could change his mind, alter his direction, and fuck you senseless instead.

You noticed the strain on his face, the way that the muscles in his neck were so tightly coiled you’d bet they would snap if you so much as breathed wrong. He was wound up as soundly as you were, suffering the same way you were, yet he let his feelings aside to fulfill a deeper desire.

With your soaked panties in one hand and his other gripping both of your ankles, he brought the material to his nose, inhaling your scent deeply, with purpose. He let out a rumbling groan, letting his eyes flutter closed as he relished in it, knowing that you were that wet for him. Only him. Only ever him.

Your chest squeezed, constricting in time with your quickened breathing, the anticipation was killing you. Your hairline was slick with beads of sweat, from both the rising temperature in the room, and the restraint that you were exhibiting. Because you were holding yourself back, waiting to see what came next.

Joel dropped to his knees, running his hands up and down your legs, almost tenderly, teasingly lighter than how he had been. It fucked with your head, how he was able to be both tender and punishing within such a short amount of time.

He inserted a single digit into you, your hips lifting, trying to escape the sudden intrusion. Joel held you firmly in place, his hand on your stomach crushing you into the mattress below. You’d thrown your head back, wiggling your lower half, trying to find something more than just his one finger.

He had shushed you, telling you to be patient and that he’d make you cum if you behaved. His words heated your skin, making your lower stomach cramp and sparking something primal within you. You wanted him to fuck you with wild abandon, not stopping when you cried out, begged him for some sort of reprieve, or when you gasped for breath.

You needed him carnally, in a way that would make the Gods weep. It was something you should be ashamed of, but then again, did you really care?

Your back naturally arched off of the bed when you felt him finally move inside of you, scissoring your hole, and curling his fingers, tickling the edge of your walls. A broken moan slipped past your lips, and incoherent begging mixed with panting came next. Your mind was in a fog, abuzz with lust. You continued to beg for it, begged for anything to make the pain stop.

Joel removed his fingers, chuckling darkly when you whined. His face was twisted in concentration as he replaced his fingers with the vibrator, the size of it stretching you out.

Your chest was heaving, feeling like a balloon ready to burst from the blinding pressure in your cunt. He inserted it inch by delicious inch, not stopping when you protested, telling him that it wouldn’t fit. He made some crude comment that he would make it fit.

You should have been turned off but your skin only tingled when he had said it. You felt his eyes watching you every second, not straying from your face as he studied you, curious to see how far he could push you, which limit would be too much for you.

He hummed in satisfaction when the device was fully lodged inside of you.

In your daze, you hadn’t been sure if you asked him aloud what he planned to do with you, or if you had just only thought it. But when his raspy voice cut through the dense air between you, you’d stilled. You’ll see, is all you had gotten from him.

It made your heartbeat thunder in your chest, hearing a teasing, but all the same, dark lilt dripping from his silky and usually warm Southern drawl. But it wasn’t warm today, it was cold.

Chilling you to the bone at his warning disguised as a promise. Joel got to his feet, leaning over your slack body, and gripped your chin, thumb digging into your bottom lip.

“Open”, he instructed, and you obeyed.

You opened your mouth, slowly. He towered over you, his face inches from your own. His dark brown eyes held no warmth, instead, they made you shiver when you looked into them. Which was an entirely new feeling for you. With an open mouth, Joel parted his own lips, letting a glop of saliva dangle off of his tongue, and let it drip into your awaiting mouth.

He snapped your jaw closed, watching your eyes curiously for any hint of disgust or refusal. Not that he’d let you refuse him in the first place.

“Swallow”.

Two words. Commands. And you were putty, willing to do whatever to please him. Your throat worked his spit down, swallowing it audibly. Joel’s lips quirked at the edges, his eyes shining with satisfaction. Wordlessly, he left you, heading out of the bedroom.

The room was silent, save for your harsh breathing. You heard the front door close, mistakenly thinking that Joel would be right back but you had been wrong. You shot up shakily, balancing your body weight on your elbows as you let out an annoyed puff.

Your head was spinning as you lay there, waiting for what, you didn’t know. You rubbed your thighs together, unsure of your next move. Joel hadn’t explicitly said that you couldn’t touch yourself and he wasn’t there to help you out. What was the harm?

A sudden and sharp buzz pounded into you, the jolt making you rip your hand away from your aching cunt, forcing a loud moan from you. Your toes curled from the onslaught of pressure building and you were panting, slick running down your legs.

You felt the warm tingling sensation that you craved. It began at the base of your spine, easing the knot that had been tangled in your stomach. It climbed higher and higher, your throat gulping bursts of air at a damning rate.

Your clit was on fire from the overstimulation of the continual vibrations, the pleasure bordering on painful. You were levitating off of the bed, head empty of every thought except your imminent release. Streaks of hot tears painted your cheeks, from the burn in your pussy, or the relief, you weren’t sure.

Your legs quivered in time with each drawn-out buzz, your orgasm cresting and a breath away from exploding out of you. Suddenly, everything stopped. The vibrations were gone, your release yanked from you. You whimpered, crying out into the empty room as if someone could hear you.

What the fuck? Your breathing was choppy, almost coming out as wheezes, your throat burning. Your pussy fluttered, your walls clamping and unclamping as if they didn’t know what to do next. You blinked back more tears, throwing your head back in both exhaustion and pent-up anger.

You were officially sexually frustrated that you’d give anything to cum. It was all so overwhelming and torturous. You heard a dull vibration from somewhere in the room, your body so hooked on the buzzing of the vibrator that it twitched.

You shook your head, sliding from the bed. It was your phone. Your heart ticked up when you saw that the message was from Joel.

Joel: Having fun?

You audibly growled at the phone. He was taunting you when you were all out of patience. The fucking bastard.

You: Actually, no.

Joel: Bet you’d have a change of heart if I made you cum.

Your walls clenched around nothing when you read and re-read his words, making sure you weren’t hallucinating.

You: Was that... you?

He took longer to respond this time, which made your hand clench at your side, nerves working in tandem with your displaced energy. You waited for his answer, realizing that you were playing right into his hand, holding your breath for his next instruction.

A soft buzz emitted in your hand.

Joel: Thought we could have some fun today.

You groaned, cursing softly. Fun. Sure. That had been so much fun.

You: Wasn’t that much fun, baby. I didn’t get to cum.

Joel: If you’re a good girl today, maybe I’ll let you.

Maybe I’ll let you. The fucking balls on this man. He knew exactly what he was doing, winding you up so that you’d have no choice but to agree to him. You felt like he knew every decision you were going to make and yet, you had never been so turned on in your life.

You: Fine. What do I have to do?

Joel: Behave. Don’t touch yourself and don’t cum until I get back home. You’ll be rewarded if you manage to hold out.

You rolled your eyes. It was sick. It was sick and oh, so hot. You bit down on your lip, wincing from the pressure.

You: You have a deal.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your thighs had been aching all day, shaking until the muscles spasmed on their own. You debated conceding, telling Joel that you were at the end of your rope, and that he would just have to let you make it up to him.

Your resolve had slipped further out of reach as the day progressed, the excruciating spike of the harsh vibrations drilling into you, forcing you to grip whatever surface was closest to you, until the blinding pleasure subsided. Your mind was creeping to the edge of madness, your determination waning. Until it was non-existent.

Your chest was heaving, toes cramping, chest burning as you came back down from your orgasm, your engorged and swollen clit chafing as you slid off of the bed.

Your fingers were covered in your own juices, as you walked into the bathroom to wash your hands. You’d broken your promise, crumpled for a moment of gratifying pleasure. And you felt like a failure.

But you hadn’t been able to dwell on it for long before you heard the front door unlock, your back stiffening as you heard it close gently. Your breathing became shallow, knowing you were in for it, and that you hadn’t been able to last. Joel would unearth the truth from you and punish you accordingly.

A cord of both anxiety and excitement settled between your legs. You heard the dull thump of him kicking off his boots, your spine tingling with anticipation as you tracked each step he took.

Joel entered the bedroom, finding your eyes immediately. He leaned against the doorframe, eyes roaming you hungrily. His smile was tired, but those never-ending orbs gleamed back at you with the promise of something sinful.

They squinted, boring into you suspiciously. You fiddled with your hands, trying not to make it obvious that you had disobeyed him, cumming just moments ago when he had told you not to.

Joel closed the distance, peeling off his flannel, and throwing it onto the chair in the corner of the bedroom. Your gaze focused on his chest, his broad shoulders, watching the subtle way that his chest rose and fell softly. He didn’t seem the least bit on edge, unlike you. His hands found your hips, gripping them tightly.

He inhaled deeply, a wicked and knowing smirk plastered on his lips.

"'D'you come, baby? Hm?", he asked, gruffly. "Did you disobey me and get yourself off?".

"No", you answered, shaking your head. But it came out meekly, unsure.

Joel slid one of his hands up your waist, crawling up your stomach and past your chest, to grip your throat, resting at the base of it. Out of habit, you swallowed, Joel’s eyes flicking to your throat.

His eyes seemed almost black, endless with lust as they honed in on you. On every tick and hum of your body.

His hand tightened around your throat, not yet constricting your airflow, but playing with the fact that he could if he so chose.

A surge of liquid fire tore through your lower belly, making a home deep within you.

"I think you did, sweetness", he hummed, licking his bottom lip, his nostrils flaring, "I can smell it on you".

You fisted his shirt, unsure if you were trying to stop him from what he was going to do next, or steady yourself as you rode the impending wave. His grip tightened on your throat, and the other hand pulled your body flush with his.

Your pulse strummed, feeling him harden through his jeans. You felt his growing bulge push into your stomach. You were only wearing an oversized shirt yourself, your lower half completely bare and exposed, ready for whatever Joel was about to do to you.

His face lowered and he dragged his scruff along your jawline harshly, his full lips ghosting over your already inflamed skin. You whined from the contact, practically keening at how touch-starved you felt.

Joel had complete control over your emotions and your body. He had two modes; rough and tender. And you knew exactly which one you were in for tonight.

“Don’t lie to me now”, he started, his one hand tangling in your hair, yanking to the point of pain. “Just gonna make it worse for yourself”.

You let out a broken moan, bucking your hips into his bulge, trying to distract him long enough to forget that you’d come without his permission.

But it didn’t seem like that was going to happen. He only tightened the hand that was around your throat, all but crushing your windpipe, causing your pussy to weep at how much you wanted him to fuck you.

“Y-yes”, you admitted, choking on the words. You swallowed against the grip on your throat.

Joel clicked his teeth, shaking his head. You could tell that he was disappointed in you, it was written all over his face.

He looked down at you through heavy lids, his pupils the size of saucers, the intensity making you shiver.

“What am I going to do with you, huh?”.

You ground your hips into his groin, eliciting a clipped groan from him.

“Fuck me, Joel", there was an edge to your voice, as you rubbed your thighs together to ease the pulsating, “Please, baby. I’m so wet for you”.

Joel grunted, features neutral as he glared at you. “Fucking is a reward, but you haven’t been good. Have ya, sweetness?”.

Your body trembled at his harsh tone, hearing the intensity in his voice, how strained it was.

He continued, “Gonna have to punish you”. You nodded, both ready and willing to accept whatever punishment he dealt. “Get on your knees”.

You didn’t hesitate, Joel’s grasp releasing you as he stepped back, giving you room as you lowered yourself. When you were situated, you looked up at him, watching as he undid his belt.

His movements were fluid, smooth, and confident as he dropped the belt to the ground with a dull clang. Buttons were undone, his zipper taunting he pulled it down slowly. Next came his jeans and boxers, shuffling them down his legs, letting them pool at his ankles.

Joel’s cock sprang free from its constraints, finally. It slapped against his stomach, pre-cum already dribbling out from the tip, making the head glistening in the low light of the room.

You wet your lips, preparing for the breach into your mouth. He reached out, taking hold of your chin, looking down at you with admiration.

"Don't say I didn't warn 'ya", Joel muttered as he released your chin, taking hold of his cock and fisting it.

You watched him stroke himself rhythmically, taking his time with it, a low grunt leaving him when he stopped, eyes on you.

"A little help, darlin'?", Joel asked, his voice stuttering in time with his breathing. And you immediately what he was asking of you.

You let the saliva in your mouth pool in your cheeks, standing on your knees and letting a glob of spit drop from your mouth, dripping onto his shaft. He smirked at you, a pleased hum rumbling from his throat as he used the lubricant that you provided to continue stroking himself.

Loud grunting tumbled out of him, beads of sweat dripping down the side of his face. Joel was practically in a cloud of lust as he gripped the back of your neck, pushing your face closer to his lower half.

You opened your mouth, your head in a tizzy as you inhaled his musk; a mix of salty sweat and his natural aroma invading your senses.

With your mouth open wide he forced his member into your mouth roughly, not giving you a minute to adjust or breathe. His tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to momentarily sputter around him. But he wasn’t deterred, if anything, it only spurred him on more, witnessing you choke down his huge cock.

He demanded more, always more from you. You inhaled deeply through your nose as he continued to stuff his girth further down your throat.

You unhinged your jaw as wide as you could, opening your throat to take more of him. You hollowed out your cheeks as Joel’s hand snaked back around to fist your hair, guiding your head as he began thrusting his hips savagely.

Your eyes watered from the intensity of his pace, trying to remember to breathe. Your head bobbed up and down his length, interchangeably suckling at the tip.

"Mmm, you like sucking my cock, hm?”, Joel asked, his voice raspy, “Like choking on it like a good little slut”.

You hummed around him, satisfied that he was enjoying himself. You used your tongue to bring him even more pleasure, licking a wide strip along the underside of it. Joel bucked his hips faster, yanking your head back and burying himself down your throat, to the hilt.

You gagged, your eyes dispelling the build-up of tears, your lungs burning from the lack of air.

You could feel your whole body start to simmer, your inhibitions and fleeting anger at Joel withholding your orgasm from you, gone. Now you were only focused on one thing; making him cum. There was an influx of pressure coursing through you.

You wanted more, actually, you needed it. You reached in between your legs, barely touching your clit, the sensation driving you insane, and moaning onto Joel’s cock. His eyes snapped to you, noticing that you were touching yourself.

"D'you think you deserve to come, sweetness? Hm?", he mocked, watching as your brows furrowed and you massaged your clit harder, "'Cause I don't think so".

Joel grabbed your arm forcefully, keeping up his unruly tempo on your throat, his balls slapping hard against your chin.

You whined around his cock, feeling the swell of your orgasm just on the outskirts.

"You've been disobedient, darlin', and we need to correct that", he continued, making you gag on his length, chuckling darkly.

His jaw was slack, his head falling back as he grunted, feeling your throat acclimate to his size. Accepting that you weren't going to get off anytime soon, you concentrated all of your efforts on him.

You decided to turn the tables on him, sitting back on your heels and puckering your lips, sliding them up and down his shaft. He groaned above you, his other hand joined the one in your hair, holding on for dear life.

You could feel him twitch in your mouth, signalling that he was close. You picked up your pace, sucking the tip and massaging his balls to bring him to the edge.

Joel removed you from his length with a pop, saliva dribbling out of your mouth and down your chin, you were positively intoxicated from his cock, under its spell.

Confusion was written all over your face as he pulled back. He fisted his cock, fast strokes faltering as his whole body began to shake.

"'M gonna cum, sweetness. Where do you want it?", he sighed, gasping for air as his eyes closed. You gaped at him closely, turned on by watching him lose control.

"Want you to cum on my face", you said, low.

"Fuck, you can't just say that to me".

Joel pumped his cock harder and it didn't take much before he was unloading his spend onto your face, painting you with his seed. Your eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the warmth of him on your skin.

His groans were deep and throaty as he milked himself of every drop.

You felt a dollop of his cum run down your cheek, cresting the edge of your mouth. You opened your eyes to see him use his cock to wipe it up, shuffling it into your mouth.

You purred, licking up each drop like the obedient little slut that you were. When your face was clean, you stood up, leading Joel to the bed and straddling his lap.

"Did I do good?", you asked, blinking up at him sweetly.

He nodded, "You did so well, sweetness. Now lemme make sure you feel good too".

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queenshelby · 4 months

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An Illicit Affair

Part Nine: The Turmoil

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

After leaving the lobby, Cillian felt conflicted about how to handle his situation. On one hand, he wanted to preserve his marriage after all he had invested in it, but on the other hand, he found himself increasingly drawn to you.

As he approached the elevator, he wondered if he had the strength to confront his feelings directly. He knew deep down that his relationship with you was not sustainable, especially because of the potential fallout it could have on his family, not only with his wife but also his son. In addition, he realized that there would not be a future with you. This affair was not going to go anywhere other than being exactly that, an affair.

Deep down inside, Cillian knew that logical approach would be to end his fling with you right now and to sever ties completely and salvage what fragments remained of his marriage. But how could he do that when he was so infatuated with you? He had never felt this kind of excitement and attraction towards anyone before.

He desperately wished he could rip the ticking clock out of the air and halt reality altogether. If only he could freeze time in that moment, then maybe he wouldn't hurt anyone. However, the cruel hand of fate forced him to make difficult decisions.

His conscience weighed heavy on his shoulders as he trudged toward the door of his room, mentally preparing himself for the conversation ahead, asking you to leave and end this doomed affair.

"Why am I even entertaining these thoughts?" he pondered aloud, stopping halfway down the hallway, his palms sweating profusely.

"I know that it's wrong," he reasoned, halting outside room 309. "I shouldn't be doing this," he whispered to himself, the sound echoing eerily in the deserted hallway. His heart pounded erratically in his chest, his palms sweaty and clammy.

Cillian closed his eyes momentarily, collecting his thoughts before inserting the key-card into the door to his room and opening it slowly and, as soon as he stepped inside, he laid his eyes on your naked form.

You lay on the bed, propped up on your elbows, waiting for him impatiently.

"Hello stranger," you called out, watching him stand motionless in the doorway for several seconds. "That took a while longer than I had expected," you smirked playfully and the sight of you caught his breath away. He stood frozen in place, he couldn't help but admire your perfect nakedness.

"Hey," he finally managed to utter, attempting to break the spellbinding silence. "How was your bath?" he then asked politely, stepping tentatively into the room.

"It was refreshing," you replied casually. "But it would have been much better if you had kept me company," you then winked before crawling towards the edge of the bed seductively.

"Y/N, I...," he began to say, trying to talk to you but, as soon a he approached the bed, he was silenced by your lips.

"Shhh," you hushed seductively, capturing his lips with yours.

The sudden heat of your body overwhelmed him, and he struggled to maintain his composure. He felt the pull of temptation stronger than ever before wanting to tear off his pants and join you under the sheets.

"Fuck," he groaned against your lips, your sweet scent filling his nostrils, making him weak in the knees as you started to fumble with his belt.

"No, wait," he gasped, catching you by the wrists. "We can't," he protested weakly, the battle raging within him. You arched an eyebrow at him, watching the internal struggle playing out on his face.

"What's wrong?" you prodded softly, tilting your head to the side. "I should not be doing this," he whispered, tears pooling in his eyes. "I have to talk to you," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion.

"You are having second thoughts about this again, aren't you?" you observed shrewdly, your voice barely audible.

"Maybe," he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. "I just don't know what to do anymore," he confessed, the turmoil evident in his voice, causing you to swallow harshly and pull away.

Reaching for the sheets to cover yourself you set down with a sigh.

"You feel guilty about sleeping with me, because you want to be loyal to your wife," you said softly, your voice cracking slightly.

"Actually," Cillian corrected you, pausing for a moment. "No, I do not feel guilty about sleeping with you because of my wife, which makes this so fucking confusing," he sighed, raking his hands through his hair.

"My marriage is broken. It has been broken for a long time and, yet, somehow I just can't justify this affair, mainly because of the damage it might cause down the track," he confessed, his voice quivering. "I know that it's morally wrong to be with you and I know that I need to end this," he explained, looking at you imploringly. "But goddamnit Y/N, I just can't," he growled, his voice breaking.

"Because spending time with me make you feel good?" you asked Cillian, watching him carefully. Your voice was quiet yet determined, challenging him to speak honestly.

"Yes, being with you feels so fucking good," Cillian replied, the words escaping his lips with difficulty. "I never expected to find this kind of connection with someone, but I also know that, given where I am in my life right now, this affair won't go anywhere. It is destined to come to an end eventually, so why fucking risk my marriage for it?" he confessed, his gaze locked on yours.

The atmosphere between you intensified, the tension palpable. You reached out to brush a stray strand of hair behind his ear, admiring the beauty of his features. His skin was smooth yet rugged, betraying the battles he had fought in both life and love.

"Why risk your already broken marriage?" you asked softly, reaching out to touch Cillian's cheek. "I don't know Cillian, but the way I see it is that you don't have as much to lose as you think and whether this affair goes anywhere or not does not really matter," you trembled beneath your fingertips, his pulse pounding furiously in his veins.

"And why doesn't it matter?" Cillian asked, confused as your fingers began trailing along his jawline.

"I mean, every second with you makes me feel good Y/N, but we won't have a future together. I will never be able to commit to you," Cillian responded, his voice cracking slightly.

"And I don't expect you to Cillian," you responded softly, your voice trembling slightly. "I don't expect you to commit to me and I don't expect you to make me any promises for the future," you implored him, stroking his cheek softly. "Right now, with you, I am simply living in the moment and, perhaps, if you are unhappy in your marriage, you should do the same to find out what it is that you really want," you offered him a soft smile as you watched his face contort in confusion.

"Let me ask you something," you then went on to say. "Do you think your marriage can be saved or are you just prolonging the inevitable until Max takes enough responsibility to look after himself?" you asked Cillian gently, touching his hand tenderly.

"We both know it is the latter," Cillian sighed heavily, caressing your fingers lovingly. "I feel like I owe him to try and work things out with his mother. We have been married for so long, and there's history there," Cillian murmured, his grip tightening around your hand.

"Max is an adult," you reminded him gently, noticing the strain in his voice. "And I think that you have a right to focus on yourself and your own happiness as well," you encouraged him, squeezing his hand lovingly. "But, if you do still love your wife then I really don't want to stand in between you," you added truthfully.

"I don't," Cillian responded, tearing up slightly. "And I can't believe I am actually saying this, but I have fallen out of love with her a long time ago," he admitted, the pain evident in his voice. "Danielle and I were young and naïve when we got married," he sighed, tracing the lines on your palm with his thumb. "But I was hoping that, with time, things would change. That we would become closer. And it took me many years to accept that we never will," he confessed, his voice strained.

"So what do you want to do now?" you asked curiously, watching him intently. "I can leave if you like," you told him. "No hard feelings," you added, the words spilling out of your mouth in a rush. You didn't want to force anything, nor did you want him to feel pressured to choose between you and his wife. But as the words left your mouth, you could hear the desperate undertone to your voice.

"Don't leave," Cillian whispered hoarsely, his voice sounding more defeated than you had ever heard it before. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you tightly and held you close to his chest.

You listened to his heartbeat thrumming against your chest, your bodies melding together seamlessly.

"You are right,” Cillian murmured softly, his voice strained with emotion. "I deserve to be happy too sometimes," he sighed, kissing your forehead tenderly without telling you about all the bad he had experienced Max's mother, including the threats against his career and past jealousy over nothing.

"Then tell me, how can I possibly make you happy?" you teased him gently, turning your face to the side, hiding your face in his shirt.

"Well, I might have some ideas," Cillian smiled before pushing your back onto the mattress gently but firmly. He leaned down and kissed the top of your nose affectionately. "But remember, I can't promise anything," he whispered, brushing a lock of hair away from your face.

"I don't expect any promises," you responded softly, locking your arms around his neck, pulling him closer towards you. "I just want to enjoy the moments we have together," you whispered sincerely, nibbling on his earlobe gently.

"Me too," Cillian agreed, his voice husky and thick with desire.

He lowered his lips to yours, kissing you passionately, his tongue exploring your mouth hungrily. You melted into his arms, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations coursing through your veins.

"Cillian," you moaned quietly, arching into his touch as he explored your body eagerly. He teased your nipples with his thumbs, sending jolts of pleasure shooting through your core. You writhed beneath him, your breathing growing shallow and ragged.

"Just relax," Cillian whispered softly, his warm breath fanning across your neck.

"I need you to take off your clothes," you murmured shyly, biting your lip seductively. You were eager to explore his body again, and the anticipation was killing you.

Cillian complied willingly, stripping down completely before climbing back on top of you.

His body was lean and muscular, adorned with a light dusting of freckles. As he pressed his weight down onto you, you could feel his erection straining against his boxers. You let out a low moan, inviting him to continue.

"Are you still sure about this?" Cillian asked, his voice rough and strained.

"Yes," you replied, reaching up to kiss him passionately. "I want you, Cillian."

He grinned wickedly, yanking off his underwear in one swift movement. His cock sprang free, standing tall and proud.

You licked your lips, mesmerized by the sight of him. You wanted to taste him, to feel him inside you. You moved your hands, tracing the outline of his erection.

"I want you so badly," you moaned, your voice thick with lust. "Please, Cillian, fuck me."

He looked down at you, his eyes dark and intense. "Fuck Y/N, why do you have to be so damn beautiful?" he whispered, his voice husky and full of longing. His eyes roamed over your exposed flesh, taking in every curve and contour of your body. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, his arousal practically tangible in the air.

"Because, clearly, I'm your type," you teased, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. He groaned softly, pressing his lips firmly against yours. His kiss was hungry and insistent, almost desperate. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of you.

His kisses were passionate and urgent, fuelled by raw desire. As he pushed you further onto the bed, he paused, looking into your eyes as if seeking permission. You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation.

"I want you to fuck me, Cillian," you repeated, your voice quivering with desire while he groaned loudly, his cock twitching beneath your fingers. You could feel his arousal surging through the air, a potent cocktail of pure lust and desire.

His response was immediate, his hips bucking into yours as he pressed his cock against your clit. The sensation was overwhelming, a wave of raw hunger washing over you.

"I need you inside of me," you whimpered, your voice shaking with desperation and he immediately complied with your request.

He positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock. You moaned loudly, arching your back off the sheet.

Suddenly, he thrust into you, filling you completely. He buried his face in your neck, groaning loudly.

You could feel his heart pounding wildly against your chest, his breath hot and damp against your skin. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you tightly as he pumped into you relentlessly.

"Oh God, yes!" you cried out, your voice hoarse and strained. The pleasure was almost unbearable, a tidal wave of ecstasy crashing over you. He responded, his movements becoming faster and harder.

You continued this for about an hour, drawing out the pleasure you received from each other's body until you couldn't take it anymore.

The tension in your muscles increased tenfold, and you arched your back, trying to alleviate the mounting pressure. Cillian, sensing your impending release, quickened his pace, burying himself deeper inside you with each thrust.

"Cillian, fuck," you whimpered, your voice cracking. "Oh my fucking god, yes!" you screamed, the word echoing through the hotel room. Cillian's strong grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh with ferocious intensity. You could feel the familiar warmth building inside you, the storm brewing in the distance, threatening to engulf you both.

"I need—" you gasped, struggling to catch your breath.

"I know, baby," Cillian grunted, his breath hot and damp against your neck.

"I'm close," he rasped, his thrusts becoming wilder and more frantic. You could feel the pressure building inside you, the storm gathering in the distance. "Just hold on," he murmured, his voice strained and desperate. "I'm almost there," he groaned, his cock twitching beneath your fingers.

"Fuck," he gasped, his cock pulsing inside you as you found your release together, orgasming in sync with one another.

The feeling was incredible, a powerful surge of pleasure that washed over you like a tidal wave.

"God, yes," you moaned, your voice hoarse and strained. "That was amazing," you breathed, the afterglow of climax lingering between the two of you.

"Yeah, it was," Cillian agreed, his voice rough and thick with satisfaction as he collapsed on top of you. "Definitely worth the risk," he chuckled, planting a series of gentle kisses on your shoulder just as your phone started to ring.

Glancing at your mobile, which was sitting on the nightstand, you saw that it was Max calling.

"Shit," you murmured as Cillian pulled out of you, leaving you achingly empty. "It's Max. I forgot to write his referral the other day," you explained nervously, quickly picking up the phone and accepting the call while Cillian shifted on the bed uncomfortably.

"Max, hey," you stammered nervously, quickly glancing at Cillian before averting your gaze, your cheeks burning red with embarrassment.

"Hi Y/N, how are you?" Max asked cheerfully on the other line.

"Yeah, I am fine," you answered hesitantly, avoiding eye contact with Cillian. "And I am really sorry, I should have prepared the referral and transfer form for you when you left the hospital. I totally," you began to apologize. "It totally slipped my mind," you apologized again while you could feel Cillian tensing up beside you.

"It's okay, Y/N," Max reassured you kindly. "I understand, shit happens," he laughed, causing your shoulders to drop slightly. "And I don't need the referral anyway. I won't be continuing treatment in Dublin. I will be staying here until next week for Ma's sake, but I can't wait to get out of the fucking house once Dad gets back," Max exclaimed, causing you to pause mid-sentence.

"Uhm, okay," you muttered, staring blankly at the wall opposite of you while Cillian squirmed uncomfortably on the bed beside you.

"Yeah, Dad is being a dick you know. He could just fucking pay for the repairs on my car and get me a lawyer. He can fucking afford it, but no, he won't help me," Max vented, causing you to gasp.

"You're joking, right?" you questioned incredulously, staring at the wall in disbelief. Cillian shot you a pleading glance, silently begging you to wrap up the conversation.

"Nah, I'm not joking," Max sighed heavily. "He just gave me a lecture about how I need to learn to manage my own finances and how irresponsible I am. What bullshit is that?" Max scoffed.

"No Max, I meant that," you began, before pausing briefly and sighing. "I mean, you don't actually expect someone else to cover your ass after what happened, right?" you clarified, the tension in the air thickening.

"He is my dad, so he is obliged to help me," Max responded quickly. "Despite, mum thinks he should," Max argued stubbornly.

"Well, I don't agree, but this between you and your dad," you interjected, knowing that Cillian was hearing at least half of what was being said. "Now listen, I have to go now. I've got stuff to do," you hurriedly ended the conversation, cutting Max off abruptly.

"Yeah, of course Y/N. You are a busy med student after all," Max chuckled before telling you quickly why he was calling you in the first place. "But the reason I was calling you was that I thought that, just maybe, you would like to go out, catch a movie and some dinner next week, just so that I can thank you properly for all your help at the hospital and all," Max stammered before continuing on without allowing you to answer. "Any movie is fine. You choose. Just not Oppenheimer. I can't possibly watch my dad take off his clothes and make out with Florence Pugh who, I may add, is way too young and pretty for him. That's just next level gross," Max told you, chuckling, his tone sarcastic and disgusted.

"Max, listen," you interrupted him, panic setting in. "We talked about this and I think that, what you are suggesting, is a terrible idea, alright?" you insisted, the nervousness creeping into your voice despite how confident you attempted to sound. "Now, I really have to go. You take care, okay?" you hurriedly finished before hanging up the phone.

As soon as you disconnected the call, you jumped off the bed, walking briskly to the bathroom.

"Y/N," Cillian called out, his voice thick with concern. "Is everything okay?" he asked, his voice laced with worry. "Is Max okay?" he wanted to know.

"Yeah," you assured him, running the water in the sink as you splashed cold water on your face. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, your cheeks flushed a deep pink.

"I am just such a horrible fucking person," you muttered under your breath, wiping the water from your face with a towel. "God dammit," you scolded yourself, pacing nervously in front of the sink.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Cillian called out again, his voice softer this time. "Talk to me," he pleaded, his voice thick with concern.

Sighing, you turned off the faucet and opened the door, stepping out into the bedroom. "No, I am not okay," you admitted, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"Yes, just needed to freshen up after the awkward phone call," you lied, not wanting to tell Cillian that his son so seemingly was not over you yet in fear of loosing him.

"What did Max want?" Cillian asked cautiously, watching you closely.

You hesitated a moment before answering, weighing your options. Finally, you decided to tell him at least part of the truth.

"Nothing much," you mumbled, shifting your gaze to the floor. "He just called to ask if I wanted to catch a movie with him next week," you revealed softly, feeling Cillian stiffen beside you.

"What did you say?" he asked, his voice cold and distant.

"I told him that I didn't think it was a good idea," you replied, meeting Cillian's gaze.

"Y/N, I am not sure what we are doing here," Cillian said, torn between his feelings for you and loyalty towards his son. "Maybe we should just stop," he suggested, his voice thick with regret and, immediately, your heart sank at his words.

To be continued...

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy fanfic

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muddyorbsblr · 1 year

Text

forgive me, father

See the full 14 Days Collection here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: You've been having lewd dreams about the vicar in your small town for months now, and you march down to the church to confess your lust.

Pairing: Will Ransome x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k words

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors and pearl clutchers, if you know what's good for you, exit now); fingering; p in v; 1 cuss word; semi-public sex; dreams about some improper use of the altar; actual improper use of a confessional [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: in case you haven't watched Essex Serpent yet, he's a priest

There was one thing of which you were absolutely certain: When your time on this Earth is over, you would burn in the flesh-melting pits of Hell itself. You were no better than the leches that lurked outside of the tavern who lusted after the maidens who'd barely even begun to bleed.

Dare you say it, you may even be worse. Lusting after one that had already avowed himself to God. What type of lustful, wretched, depraved nymphomaniac would you be if you couldn't quell your desire for him?

For Reverend William Ransome, the towering and devastatingly handsome priest of the small town that you resided in.

Ever since you'd moved in to Aldwinter, the residents looked at you as if you had a strange mutation that only they could see. You were alien to them, with your vibrant, form-fitting dresses and your polished accent from what education you'd been allowed to receive in the city, there were nearly no souls for you to converse with for they didn't wish to acquaint themselves with someone so unknown to them.

And so landed the first nail in your metaphorical coffin, for the only soul in the quaint little town of Aldwinter willing to give you the time of day, the one who spoke with an education that matched--surpassed, even--your own, was none other than the Reverend himself.

Even on that first encounter you felt that traitorous desire pooling between your legs. Why did he have to sound like thaton top of looking as if despite having sworn himself to the cloth it seemed as if he was sculpted for temptation by the devil himself?

Now here you were, once again staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom, unable to return to sleep after having another sinfully filthy dream about that frustratingly perfect unattainable man. If there was truth in the messages that the Scripture delivered, and God truly could see into your thoughts and dreams, then surely He had His palm to His face at the lecherous images that were conjured in your mind over one of His representatives on this plane of existence.

Laid out bare and supine on the altar staring up at the ceiling of wood faintly tinted by the light coming through the stained glass window, as the dear Reverend hooked your legs around him, the only sounds to pierce the silence of the church being that of your hips snapping together and the obscene squelching sounds of him entering you repeatedly at an unforgiving pace.

But what had you violently waking up to find yourself face down on your bed with your legs spread and grinding your hips into the mattress were the final moments of that deliciously sinful dream. Where Will had begun to roll his hips into yours in a decadent pace, pressing his lips to your neck and chest in tender kisses. Whispering tender promises into your skin about how he'd longed to finally make you his. How he was convinced that the heavens made you just for him. "And all of Aldwinter will know that for a fact when they see you carrying my child."

You threw your arm over your eyes and let out a frustrated groan so loud you were sure you woke your neighbors. "This has gone on too long. These thoughts will either be exorcised or they will be buried. I refuse to be this heathen foolishly lusting after the vicar a moment longer. This ends tonight."

That was how you ended up marching into the church, donning only a dressing robe thrown over your nightgown and your boots to shield your feet from the mud of the marshes, determined to confess and finally let all your lecherous thoughts out in the open. You were sure that that grump Matthew would be too groggy from being awoken at this ungodly hour that he would barely remember anything you'd tell him, and so these words would truly only be between you and God.

You hadn't gone to confession in a considerable time, let alone at such an hour that one did not know whether to call it 'late in the night' or 'early in the morning', but you could recall some slivers of information about how to proceed. You walked to the door of the sacristy, knocked three times, and then proceeded to the confessional, trying to recall what the next step was.

There was a ledge near the latticed covered window that would allow the priest to speak with you from the other side, and there was also a kneeler by the entryway. Considering that you needed to pay penance for the debased thoughts in your rampant imagination, you figured that kneeling would be more appropriate, so you closed the curtain in front of you and set your knees on the leather-covered bench, waiting for a cue.

The sound of the curtain on the other side being drawn with more force than necessary made you jump. Sorry I had to wake you from your dreamscape litany, Matthew. You waited a few moments for the curate to situate himself on the ledge on his side and draw back the divider before you spoke.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," you wavered, a large part of you ashamed for the words you were about to utter. "It had been…heavens, I haven't the faintest idea when I last confessed. I dare reckon it's been over a decade since my last confession," you admitted with a chuckle, hoping to inject some light into the thick guilt-ridden tension.

All you received in response was a low grumble, making you roll your eyes at the curate's ornery demeanor. You took that sound as a cue for you to start stating your sins.

"I have been plagued with guilt over the last few months with the aftermath of the sins that I have committed in the privacy of my own home." You took a deep breath, the weight on your heart growing heavier with each passing moment. "I have been having licentious thoughts about a man I shouldn't desire. Wherever I turn, regardless of my efforts, he is there. Tempting me. Taunting me. Even when I close my eyes, when I dream, I dream of him. There's no escape.

"When he speaks of even the most mundane, or the most modest of subjects, all I can think of is how his voice sounds like a luxurious mix of fine silk and crushed velvet. And how that voice could get me to do the most unholy things, he need only ask. I think about how it would feel to lay with him, and what sinful words could be uttered from those deceptively angelic lips of his. I think about how those lips would feel on mine, or how they would feel pressing kisses down my body.

"I think of his hands and how they look as if they were engineered for sin. With long, dexterous fingers that I'm sure would be devastating if they were inside me. I think about what his manhood would look like and how I'm sure thatwould utterly decimate me." You could hear the heavy breathing from the other side of the divider, smirking to yourself as you realized that your words had gotten to the ill-tempered judgmental man on the other side.

"I must atone for my sins," you finished. "So I've come here to confess them. And hopefully in doing so I would be better equipped with the defenses to never think as such again."

You were only met with silence.

"I don't know how to conclude this. Are you supposed to give me a set of prayers or--?"

"Kneel," was the only terse reply. As if you were being whipped with the word itself.

"I am kneeling," you whispered shakily, fearing now that the next move would be to drag you through the walkways of Aldwinter and be labeled the whore you felt you were.

"Then stay on your knees, Y/N."

It was as if ice cold water had been poured down the length of your spine, the harsh realization like a slap across your face. That voice. The voice that haunted your dreams and your waking thoughts. The voice that belonged to the man you'd just described in lurid detail that you wanted to do unspeakable things to you.

You'd just confessed your fantasies about Will Ransome. To Will Ransome.

Now would be a good time for the ground to open up a gateway to Hell itself and swallow me whole, you thought snidely.

You flinched at the sound of the curtain on his side being drawn, the motion even sharper than it had been minutes ago, as if he intended for the curtain to seem like it was slicing through the silence. Slicing into your soul and displaying your shameful lust for all to see.

Perhaps if you waited long enough for him to return to the sacristy then you could quietly slip out of the church, and never return for another service again. Save up your money until you could leave Aldwinter altogether and put this humiliating lustful blunder behind you. Where he would only remain a prurient fantasy, and he had no power to turn into anything more damning for you.

You'd been counting the seconds away, every inch of you trembling with your mortification, when the curtain in front of you was pulled back from the other side, making you flinch even harder. Your head snapped up and your doe-eyed gaze met the steel blue of Will's as he looked down at your face. His tall frame seemed even more imposing from this angle, filling you with a traitorous mix of apprehension and desire.

That desire only intensified as your heart hammered in your chest when he began to sink to his knees as well, his face becoming almost level with yours as his hand moved to cup the side of your face, his thumb resting on your bottom lip and coaxing it into a pout. He breathed out your name, in a similar tone that he would use in service, in prayer. The tenderness in his tone took you aback, keeping you frozen in place despite every fibre of your being screaming at you to stand, to apologize, to run and never look back.

"Dear lovely Y/N," he murmured, leaning in so close that his breath was ruffling the hairs at the crown of your head. Just the smallest nudge closer and his lips would be ghosting across your skin. "Finish your confession, sweet girl."

You fought the urge to fall against him as you felt him press the lightest of kisses to your temple. Finish? No, surely he didn't mean for you to utter the name. You couldn't. You wouldn't. "It is finished," you said in your attempt to evade him, your voice so inaudible it was barely a whisper that had got caught in the back of your throat.

The faintest whimper escaped your lips as he pressed a kiss to the side of your face, so close to your ear. "It is not finished until you utter the name of the one who makes you sin the way you do. The one who has so thoroughly penetrated your thoughts that you became compelled to come here and confess them to me on your knees."

This bloody devilish tempter. "I can't," you gasped as his hand moved to cup the back of your neck, his fingers beginning to weave through your hair. "The admission would destroy me."

"It won't." His closeness had led you to feel his words as much as hear them, the low timbre of his soft spoken answer rippling throughout the entirety of your body, adding fuel to the fire he had started within you long before you stepped foot into the church. Made worse by him bringing his free hand to your waist and curling his fingers around the curve of your body, thumb gently stroking the side of your stomach. "I can promise you that it won't, dear Y/N. I would never condemn you over something so natural. So human. But I do wish to know the name of the man who brought one of the most brilliant people I know to her knees." His lips ghosted across your cheek. "Name, sweet girl."

Perhaps if I say it he would back away in disgust and I can leave. It was a desperate attempt, and it would hammer in the final nail in your coffin, but it was all you had now. What have I left to lose?

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself to start running; the only drawback to this was that as your body tensed, his hold on you tightened. With a resigned sigh, you breathed the name. "Will Ransome."

His hold on you tightened by the slightest as he leaned back to look at you, his face devoid of the disgust and abhorrence you expected to find. Instead you couldn't rationalize what you were seeing as his eyes shone as if the stars themselves had taken up residence in them, his brows knitted together, and the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You tried to make a motion to pull away but he didn't budge, his hands still firmly keeping you in place as his thumbs began to stroke your skin once again.

You held your breath as he leaned in, bringing his face so close to yours that you could feel his warm breath on your lips. And then it was as if your world had stopped when you felt him press a light, imperceptible kiss to your upper lip, followed by one to your bottom lip. It was on the third time his lips had grazed yours that you returned the kiss, eliciting a low groan from him and making him wrap his arm around you to press your body against his, the contact making you both moan into each other's mouths.

Will held you tight as he led you both to stand, lifting you off your feet once he was standing upright and walking you into the confessional until your back was pressed against the wooden wall and he sat you down on the ledge. He reached back to haphazardly draw the curtain and cover the compartment before stepping between your legs, grabbing hold of the fabric of your nightgown and slowly hiking up the fabric to bare your legs to him. "All this time," he breathed, lifting his gaze to meet yours, the intensity in his eyes pinning you in place. "You could have been mine all this time."

You were still dreaming. You must be. There wasn't even the most remote of possibilities that those very same sinful hands that you'd fantasized about for months were currently working their way up your thighs, caressing your skin with a reverence as if he himself couldn't believe this was his reality, too. Only it wasn't reality. This was your mind playing the cruelest trick on you, giving you a fantasy so realistic you could swear on your life that it was real.

Wasn't it?

Only the sounds of your whimpers getting caught in the back of your throat pierced the silence of the booth, the heavy curtain all but blocking out the rest of the world to you as one of his hands made its way between your legs, inching higher and higher as he pressed his lips to the crook of your neck. "We're finished wasting time, my dear," he murmured into your neck, your sharp gasp shattering the deafening silence as you felt his fingers meet the slick evidence of your arousal.

You were torn between telling him he shouldn't do this, that it wasn't proper for him to do so, and begging him to keep going. To give in to your torturous desires since he seemed to be doing the same. You rested your forehead on his shoulder, biting the inside of your lips so hard they may very well have drawn blood to hold back the sounds that threatened to escape you once his fingers moved up and began to slowly rub circles over your clit.

"Don't silence yourself, sweetheart." You struggled to keep yourself muted as another moan tried to slip from your mouth as he pressed more fevered kisses to your neck, your vision blurring every time you felt his tongue dart out to lick at your skin. "Let me hear you."

Just as you opened your mouth to set loose a moan that would have woken your neighbors had you been in your home, your blissful dream-like state was shattered by an ornery voice. "Father Ransome?"

You clapped a hand over your mouth, fighting your body's urge to take heaving breaths, your stubborn denial causing your lungs to burn and your heart to beat even faster as your body begged for more. Whether it be more of the air or more of Will you couldn't tell anymore. Perhaps more of both.

The heavy-footed steps of the curate began to echo through the church, the sound of each step coming closer to where you were making the panic sink deeper into your soul. Truly you didn't fear what discovery of you would do; had it just been you getting caught doing something salacious in the booth to be shamed 'til Kingdom Come by the irrational curate, you'd have had no issues facing him and talking him down with your back straight and head held high.

But this wasn't just you. Getting caught in this moment had graver consequences because it would implicate Will as a lech. His reputation in this naive, superstitious town would be wrecked. Because of you. For that and that alone, you endured the burning in your lungs as it begged for more air, as it begged you to take the heaving breaths.

It didn't help in the least that it was at this moment that Will decided to test the strength of your resolve, continuing to press his lips along the column of your neck as his fingers resumed to rub slowly over the overly sensitive nub above your entrance. Now your breaths were slow and shuddering through your nose, the entirety of your body shaking with a mixture of the fear of getting caught and the wicked, sinful pleasure that the man before you was subjecting you to. "Perhaps you should stay quiet a little while longer, my dear girl," he whispered in your ear, his lips ghosting along the shell of it before he pressed a kiss to the skin behind it, letting out a low groan that you prayed wasn't heard outside.

Your free arm hooked around his side, your hand clawing at his back the moment his fingers traveled down and entered you. Your throat burned with the silenced whimpers and moans that wished to not be kept in, all made worse when his free hand weaved through the hair at the base of your skull, tilting your head backward and exposing your throat for him to press fevered kisses to.

"If you knew how I longed for you, Y/N," he groaned into your skin, the vibrations from his voice traveling all over your body and intensifying the pleasure already washing over you. "How I would lay in bed at night, sit alone in my study, or tonight in the sacristy. And I would touch myself to the thought of laying with you. Having you laid bare underneath me as I worshipped you." He pulled your hand away from your face and slanted his mouth over yours in a heated kiss, the whimpers finding their way out as his tongue slipped past your lips and tangled with your own just as his fingers curled upward and brushed against a spot inside of you that blurred your vision and had your hips involuntarily jerking against his touch, wantonly begging for more.

The sound of heavy footsteps right outside the confessional, however, had you freezing against his touch. He broke the kiss gently, careful not to make any sounds as his lips pulled away from yours. You pleaded silently with your eyes for him not to move, to alleviate the burning in you even in the slightest, at least until one of the most notorious gossips in the town had wrongfully concluded that there was no one in the church.

His only answer was a devious glint in his eyes as he torturously continued the long, sensuous strokes of his finger against that spot inside of you, making you bury your face into the crook of his neck as you fought to keep your breathing even.

"You haunted my waking thoughts and my dreams as well, sweet girl," he whispered as he pressed a tender kiss to the side of your head. "And now I get to make you mine."

The footsteps fell right by the curtain that shielded you both from the rest of the world. That heavy fabric now feeling as if it were the flimsiest cover, that anyone could see right through it if they looked hard enough. Perhaps if they squinted their eyes they would undoubtedly see the town's aberration of a woman corrupting their dear vicar.

"I coulda sworn that wench from London walked in here," the grumpy voice mumbled right outside the confessional, his heavy footsteps heading toward the direction of the sacristy now followed by the sounds of heavy knocking. "Are you alright in there, Father Ransome?! I hope that wretched woman didn't dare try to charm you with her wiles."

"Too late," Will murmured against your ear with a low chuckle that had you beside yourself. "I'm afraid you ensnared me since the moment I laid eyes on you." You lifted your head from his shoulder to look at him, the honesty in his words placing an expression on his face so tender you swore to yourself you didn't deserve to see it, let alone be the reason for it. "I'm yours."

You both stared at each other, a smirk tugging at the side of his mouth at every silent gasp that formed in your mouth as he kept on stroking that spot inside of you, bringing you closer and closer to climax. As the steps began to sound farther and farther away, he began to move faster, the smirk morphing into a devious grin as fragments of a whimper began to escape you.

And then the sound of the door closing as the ornery town gossip finally left the church echoed through the now empty sanctuary. "You're completely mad," you whined as his fingers moved faster inside you, an obscene moan breaking through the silence as you felt his thumb make contact with your clit once more.

"For you, sweetheart, I completely am." He pressed his lips to yours, moaning into your mouth as your hand traveled downward to palm him through his trousers. "Temptress," he hissed, nipping at your bottom lip. "Now come for me."

You threw your head back against the wooden wall at his command, your walls fluttering and clenching around his fingers as he eased you through your release.

"Beautiful," he breathed, pressing a kiss to the exposed skin of your chest, close to your heart. The sound of the laces on his trousers being undone already had you ready for what ever else he may have in store for you. "I'm going to need you to come in for a different type of confession, sweetheart." Another moan escaped your lips -- the sound so sharp and loud you could nearly feel it reverberating in the wooden ledge that you were holding on to for dear life -- as you felt the tip of his manhood brushing along your folds.

You shuddered as you breathed out his name, his lips still pressing kisses all over your collarbone, careful not to leave a mark on your skin. "What confession--Oh f-fuck!" Your head hit the wall as you began to feel him inching his way inside you, a delicious burn beginning as your walls stretched for him to fit.

"I'll need for us to do them somewhere more private. And more often. Just to be thorough." His lips found yours once again as he thrusted the slightest bit to fully sheathe himself inside you, your hips flush against each other, his kiss muffling the shriek that you let out from the salacious intrusion. "Perhaps nightly. In my home. Where no one can hear us confessing our lust for miles."

A/N: And it's officially begun! Welcome to 14 Days of Valentines. Every day from now until Valentine's Day I will be posting a smut/smutty story involving either Tom or one of Tom's characters. I hope y'all like what I've come up with, and also I hope you check out all the amazing works in the collection not just by myself (those aren't amazing lol) but by fellow writers in the community.

Everything taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @devilsadvocactus @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston @ladyjames78 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @kats72 @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @creationsbyme @coldnique @athalialaufeyson @simplyholl @tallseaweed @sarahscribbles @loopsisloops

#14 days of valentines collection #will ransome x reader #will ransome x reader smut #will ransome smut #will ransome x female reader #will ransome fanfiction #will ransome fanfic #muddyorbs writes

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femboykyo · 9 months

Text

Dazai Needs Cuddles

Pair: Soukoku

Tags: late night talks, Chuuya comforts Dazai, fluffy Soukoku, Dazai cries, happy ending I promise

Chuuya let out a groan at the sound of bustling in his kitchen. It could've been anyone he knew really but he had a hunch on who it was. He turned on the kitchen light after he walked down the hall and standing in the middle was Osamu Dazai.

"Dazai! Do you have any idea what-Youre crying." Dazai just rummaged through Chuuya's alcohol until he found one he liked. Chuuya could already feel a headache forming.

"Dazai, what are you doing?"

"Getting a drink, obviously."

"I mean what are you doing in my house?"

"Getting a drink, obviously." Dazai grabbed a glass from the counter when he paused. Chuuya rose a brow at Dazai's frozen movements. That's when he saw Dazai's tears and his bottom lip quivered.

"Oi Mackerel, what's up with you?"

"You have a tiny cactus?"

"Yeah, I've had it for a week now, so?"

"Chuuya has a tiny cactus!" Dazai was sobbing now and he gently held the cactus's pot in his hands.

"What's gotten into you?!"

"It's small! Which reminds me of Chuuya! And cacti are prickly and Chuuya can be mean like how a cactus feels!" Chuuya was beyond confused by his ex partners logic but he let him continue.

"And then it made remember that Chuuya is all I have but... What if Chuuya leaves me?! And I love small things and it's so cute!" Chuuya held Dazai in his arms, carefully taking the cactus and putting it back onto the counter, his nose picked up the smell of alcohol from Dazai's breath despite not opening Chuuya's wine yet.

"Dazai, go to my room."

"No, I don't want to leave Chuuya."

"I'll be right behind you, now go lay down." Dazai whined but did as he was told and went down the hall to the lit up bedroom. Chuuya grabbed Dazai's favorite blanket from the couch and followed him to the room. Dazai was already in his spot on Chuuya's bed, holding Chuuya's fish plushie, still sniffling every once in a while. Chuuya covered him with the soft and fuzzy blanket and laid next to him. Chuuya gathered Dazai into his arms and turned off the bedside light.

"You want to tell me what happened today?" Dazai shook his head.

"Do you want to just cuddle?" A nod.

"Do you want to tell me after you are better?" Another nod. Subconsciously Chuuya was rubbing Dazai's back while the brunette snuggled more.

"...I'm scared."

"Scared?"

"The only time I ever cared or loved someone they left me. But I've come to care and love so many more... I don't want to lose them too..."

"You won't lose anyone, Dazai. It's different now."

"I don't want to lose you either, Chuuya."

"Dazai..." Dazai let out a yawn and rested his head on Chuuya's shoulder.

"Don't leave me..." He fell asleep. Chuuya groaned but he couldn't help feeling touched from what Dazai had said. He planted a kiss onto Dazai's head.

"I won't leave without you, Osamu." He whispered and fell asleep as well. When Chuuya awoke later that morning, Dazai wasn't next to him but he heard the sound of spraying water. Dazai was in the shower. Chuuya stripped out of his clothes and went right across the hall to join the detective.

"Move over." Dazai did with a smirk.

"Chuuya, such a bold man." He teased.

"Shut up, hand me the soap." Dazai pressed Chuuya against the wall, the warm water pouring between them, and licked the shell of Chuuya's ear.

"Why don't we get properly dirty first?" Chuuya's face turned a deep red and he elbowed Dazai's side.

"Idiot, we have work today!" Dazai whined as he held his side even though they both knew it didn't hurt.

"Chuuya! And to think you were starting to get soft for me!"

"In your dreams. Soap, now."

"Yeah yeah, here." When their fingers touched and Chuuya lifted his head, Dazai kissed his lips. Chuuya knew he shouldn't give in to temptation, especially with Dazai, but his lips and hands were to tantalizing.

"Chuuya?"

"What?" Suddenly Dazai was crying again. Chuuya was caught off guard and put his hands on Dazai's face.

"Dazai, now what?!"

"I wanna cuddle!" Chuuya sighed.

"Alright, finish your shower." Chuuya got out, wrapped a towel around his waist, and went to his phone. Might as well let someone know he wouldn't be able to come in today. He once again grabbed Dazai's blanket and got his spot on the bed ready. After all he did promise Dazai he wouldn't leave him, even if he was being a headache.

#skk fanfic #skk #soukoku #bungo stray dogs dazai #bungou stray dogs chuuya #dazai x chuuya #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #bsd

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phantomspren · 1 year

Text

I loved the finale.

I truly did.

But the lack of anymore Wittebane lore was really sad to me, cause honestly that’s been my favorite part of the show since I first saw Hollow Mind.

And there probably would have been something if Disney hadn’t cut it, but, well, I can’t change that and I’m still disapointed so here’s the fic I wrote when I should have been in bed and I had just finished crying for literally thirty minutes straight.

Basically, this is kinda a mess but I had fun writing it and it was disturbingly therapeutic for me.

Philip died.

He honestly hadn’t expected that to happen.

He’d lived for over four hundred years only to be stomped into the ground, driven from the most powerful body he’d ever inhabited.

His flesh had been ground into the dirt under the boots of a descendant of the witch who had led his brother into temptation and out of the light of God, and a human who had betrayed her whole species.

After four hundred years, that was how it all ended.

And he’d been so close.

And now he sunk into the darkness, the light above growing dimmer. He was unable to breathe, but his lungs had no need for air. He wasn’t sure if this was due to his being dead or his lack of a body. The liquid was dark enough that he couldn’t tell if he had any physical form at all.

He continued to sink.

And his mind replayed each and every of his failures.

His failure to properly destroy the human girl.

His failure to maintain the loyalty of a single one of his grimwalkers.

His failure to…

His failure to make Caleb understand his betrayal. His betrayal of both their ideals and of Philip.

His failure to bring Caleb home.

Four hundred years was a long time to grieve.

A long time to live with the blood of your brother on your hands.

And a long time to seek vengeance against those who had taken him down the path of sin.

And he had still failed.

His descent ended.

The liquid beneath him simply gave way, and Philp began to fall far more rapidly. The air rushing past him finally gave him the knowledge that he did in fact have a body, but he noticed nothing more of his physical appearance than a flash of Caleb’s blue coat before he thumped into the ground.

His vision blurred for a moment, but when it cleared, two all-too familiar faces loomed over him.

Evelyn, her short red hair a mess around her head. Her eyes contained a storm.

And…

And Caleb.

That damned cardinal sat on his shoulder.

“You stole my coat,” he said, a self-satisfied grin sneaking onto his face. “I’d like it back.”

“Caleb,” Philip gasped.

“Surprised to see me?” Caleb’s smile widened. “Is it because you thought that our souls would end up in different places perhaps?”

He tried to ignore the theological implications of it all.

Caleb proffered a hand to Philip.

In over four hundred years, Caleb’s smile hadn’t changed a bit.

But oh, how the situations that invoked that smile had shifted.

Philip smacked Caleb’s hand aside and the bird gave an alarmed chirp, but Philip just pushed himself to his feet.

Before he could get a look at his surroundings, he saw the rats nest of red hair approach out of the corner of his eyes and the next thing he knew he was laid out on the ground a second time, his nose throbbing in exactly the same place as it had three hundred years ago when the other Clawthorne had punched him.

This time when his vision cleared, the tears of pain finally having been blinked away, Evelyn still still had that storm behind her eyes but she shared Caleb’s smile.

“Bastard,” she said, the word containing the same force as that which was contained in her expression.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Caleb said. “You can keep the coat.”

“I hope it serves as a reminder of all that you have done,” Evelyn spat.

The two turned to go.

Caleb was leaving him again he was leaving with the witch he was abandoning him again again again again.

“Wait!” Philip pushed himself to his knees, reaching a hand out after them.

Evelyn kept walking, but Caleb turned.

“Caleb…”

Caleb met his eyes.

“I have lived with the decisions I made every day for centuries,” Philip started. “I have grieved over them every day. But I was doing it for the good of our souls, for the good of humanity!”

“You do realize that’s not an excuse, right?” Caleb said. “It was still you who made those choices. Not God. You refused to change even when confronted with the fact that you were wrong. You’re not that boy I used to know, Pip. I loved him, I truly did. But… when I was confronted with a better way of seeing the world, one that relied less on judgment and more on love and acceptance, I had to take it. I offered you that choice, later on. Perhaps I should have offered it to you sooner, but I was desperate to escape the hate that we had surrounded ourselves with. And…” He glanced over his shoulder at Evelyn, who was now waiting in the distance. “Well, I was a teenager. A foolish boy in love. I could never have guessed how that hatred would distort you. I loved my younger brother. But I thought that you would be strong enough to resist. You aren’t that boy anymore. And I cannot love this monster that you’ve become. And this time, me leaving you is not the act of a child. It is the act of a man who is leaving behind the demon who attempted to steal everything from him and the world and the people he came to love. And…” Caleb’s face contorted, the smile momentarily leaving his lips. “And then trying to bring me back. Again and again. Just to kill me again.”

“I was trying-”

“The first time I left you, it was of my own free will and I regret that. I regret not bringing you with me. The second time, you forced me to leave you by killing me. And now I will leave you again and I will never look back. I have said all that I have needed to say to you. Goodbye, Philip.”

Caleb turned and strode away.

What Philip didn’t know was that he’d only been brought to the end to bring closure to his elder brother’s troubled soul.

As Caleb’s words began to sink in, began to worm their way into the crack of Philip’s heart, that purpose was fulfilled.

Philip still felt as though he had done what was right. For that was who he was. Merciless, uncaring, desiring only to fulfill his own wants and wishes.

The words hurt, yes, and he recognized some of them as true, but they changed nothing within him.

And so for a final time, his body began to lose form. His flesh gave way to a mass of green sludge, a symbol of the corruption and damage he had done to his own flesh and soul. With no bones or body to contain him, his being simply slipped into the earth, where the ways of the universe finally expunged him from existence.

#watching and dreaming #toh spoilers #my writing #the owl house #i kid you not i was sobbing for thirty solid minutes #and so now my face hurts #philip wittebane #caleb wittebane

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pixelmensupremacy · 2 years

Text

To cherish what’s dear

A/N: I wrote fluff for once. Also I thought of Brooklyn baby by Lana del Rey while writing this and I like to imagine Joel playing that song in particular (the lyrics are so fitting and let's pretend that don't came out before 2013).

Word count:0.8k

Warnings:Mentions of anxiety and nightmares, fluff, gender neutral reader

Crickets chirped in the dead of night, their symphony of sounds echoed in the otherwise quite Jackson night.

(Y/N) shifted underneath the sheets, which has become a barrier between them and the terrors of their reality, but unfortunately for them, their fears chased them even in their sleep. (Y/N) gasped, cold sweat covered their body as they woke up from yet another repetitive nightmare. Laid in their bed they stood there, revisiting the reel of events their subconscious mind projected just a few moments ago. A shaky breath left their dry lips; they felt an uncomfortable soreness in their throat. That’s when a problem arose; they debated whether or not they will fall into the temptation to clench their thirst or stay in bed with Joel while the sheets were still warm. Manually their hand fell on the other side of the bed, but instead of landing on his chest their hand was met with his pillow.

Any chances of good night’s rest evaporated, thanks not only to the night terrors, but also because of Joel’s disappearance. Weariness weighed down on their eyelids as they made their way downstairs and directly into the kitchen. Expecting him to be there, they were dismayed- there was still no sign of him. They began to panic until a certain sound, trailing from outside, caught their attention. With every step towards the front door, (Y/N) recognized the mysterious melody as Joel’s guitar.

A weight lifted off their shoulders at the sight of him; seated, mindlessly toying with the strings. Moonlight illuminated his face, outlining his features into an ethereal vision of (Y/N) could only identify as serenity.

“Still awake?” The rumble of his voice grounded them into the present moment.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Unceremoniously they took the seat next to him; a shiver ran down their spine as the autumn breeze tingled their exposed skin.

“Here.” With no hesitation he took off his jacket before placing it over their shoulders.

“Ever the gentleman.” The corners of (Y/N)’s lips curled into a smile of gratitude.

“I just don’t want you the catch a cold.” Silently (Y/N) rested their head on his shoulder.

“Did you have another nightmare?” They hummed in response. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I would rather not” (Y/N) nuzzled their face closer to the crook of his neck, where his body warmth tingled their freezing nose.

The strings of the instrument danced under the pressure of his calloused fingertips, forming a soft comforting melody, contrasting his stoic expression. Underneath the façade he put up, Joel was troubled for his beloved; just at the sight of them- exhausted by the stress life brought- a sense of despair nestled in his heart. He didn’t have to ask to know what their nightmares consisted of, because he had them himself. Though he felt entitled to ask; to let them know he was by their side; he was also aware there was no use in forcing them to open up.

Instead he kept playing the guitar; he let himself be in flow with the music, that effortlessly seeped from the strings and filled the cool atmosphere. A familiar melody tingled (Y/N)’s ears; in an instant they recognized the song- it was the one which got them together.

Sunrays shined above the horizon, warming every surface it landed on. Fresh air filled (Y/N)’s lungs, as they walked a spontaneous route with its the end destination being the furthest away from their problems. Picturesque landscape surrounded their field of vision, successfully taking their mind off of anything and all thoughts.

Enchanting melody caught their attention and before they could realize their legs were carrying them towards the mysterious source of the sound. Allured by its beauty, they soon found themselves in front a house, where a man was seated with his guitar carefully nestled in his lap.

Entranced (Y/N) froze in place, afraid that any action could end this unusually delightful dream. Little did they know it was in fact not a dream; suddenly the music stopped and the man shouted something (Y/N) couldn’t make out. Yet what brought them back to reality was his electrifying grip on their shoulder.

The following events were blurry up until the moment they left his house with a promise of guitar lessons and a new friendship.

A bright smile appeared on their face, their chest warmed up as the memories flashed before their eyes. Naturally they began singing the lyrics, which they knew by heart. The words flowed out of their mouth like dripping honey, that acted as an exquisite touch to the music. Together they formed a harmonious union, tightly binding them on a spiritual level- unmatchable by any other connection.

The sweet song soon faded into humming. Cuddled against his side, (Y/N) felt ease weave in their tense muscles, causing them to relax into deep and peaceful slumber. Soon after the music came to an end.

Joel let out a breathy chuckle once he noticed (Y/N) peacefully asleep on his shoulder. Carefully he placed the instrument away and gently picked them up before carrying them back inside. Once he reached the bedroom, he placed them on the bed then placed a kiss on their temple.

“Good night, love.”

#the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlous fanfic

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ageofevermore · 2 years

Text

You Scare Me

SUMMARY – You had known him for so long, wasn’t it meant to be obvious that every night he snuck out of his bedroom to save the world?

PAIRING — Peter Parker x Reader [ 1.8k ]

AUTHORS NOTE — This is an angsty one! And one that I wrote two years ago during covid. Seems fitting to fix it up now that I’m stuck in quarantine again.

You were friends before Tony Stark laid down his life for the greater good of humanity, before elementals shattered a city, and long before Peter Parker ever identified as Spiderman. When you were just kids in a concrete city you would climb into his room, curious eyes wide and ready for an adventure. When you were teenagers, it was no surprise to anybody that beneath the big apple’s influence you fell in love. It was young and it was cherished, until it wasn’t.

Peter Parker had a lot riding on his shoulders.

It was a stormy Tuesday afternoon, just after a spontaneous shower of summer rain. He had been out all night, quite literally strung up and pressed with lowlife crime. Things had begun to even out since defeating the elementals, for Spiderman that is, not Peter Parker. Peter Parker had missed three dates since revealing his identity to MJ Watson in France and taking on petty crime in his home city.

You were not a girl known to wait around for what you wanted, and yet every night you clung to a sliver of hope that your boyfriend would break through your bedroom window with a twisted grin and sweet accent. Every night you went to bed lonely and disappointed.

The week had begun with plans to see a movie, and when Peter called to tell you he had gotten stuck at work, you accepted his excuse and happily agreed to the raincheck he provided. On Sunday, when you were meant to have dinner down at the diner, you were met by MJ instead. Tuesday had been your final straw, texting your boyfriend and asking for a simple night in. Your mother had left town just the night before, leaving the loft cold and available, and yet Peter never showed up.

You were overwhelmed with worry, fingernails broken between her teeth as you looked down at your phone. The blue messages were left unread and unresponded to, only making the pit in your stomach grow with the passing hours. You were tempted to reach out to Happy, knowing it was a last ditch effort to mend a heavy heart, but you were quickly running out of options that allowed for your sanity to be kept in check.

The curly headed, brown eyed, adventure loving boy had always given you a run for your money, but laying in bed alone unaware of his safety was growing sickening. Ned had stopped answering your messages, blocking your contact all together when the temptation to spill the truth became to much for him, and you and MJ had never really hit it off. You weren’t even sure you had the girl's number saved in your contacts.

Your lonesome was crippling, tears soaking the pillow beneath your head as Peters favorite movie played on your television screen. The night was meant to be simple, a last ditch effort to rekindle a life long spark, and you had been stood up.

Giving up hope, you let yourself sleep, crossing Peter Parker from your mind and instead giving into slumber.

———

Peter cursed to himself, his hand pressed up against the glass of your bedroom window hours after you had fallen asleep. The movie had ended hours ago, the opening credits playing again and again on your television screen only making Peter’s heart drop further towards his feet.

He didn’t bother knocking on the glass, knowing that his girl could sleep through the end of the world if she tried hard enough. His frown was tight as he slipped in through the window, the lock having never been very efficient, and let his body be met with the slight chill of your air conditioning.

You hummed at the slight patter of his clumsy feet, wiggling in the bed with a look of pure angelic grace on your sleep drunk features. Peter's heart sank at the tears that left tracks on your cheeks, an apparent damp spot on the purple pillowcase beneath your head. Your hair was let down, a telltale sign of a migraine no doubt caused by him. Your bedside table was dressed in all of his favorite snacks, his eyes not failing to notice the homemade butterscotch cookies shaped like hearts growing stale beside a can of soda.

Peter had fucked up. His stomach was already in knots from the robbery he had stopped, and the sight of his girl was only amplifying his guilt.

“Y/N?” He whispered out gently, threading his fingers into your silky strands of dark hair. The touches of summer that danced across the apples of your cheeks were growing darker as the summer months continued to age. “Y/N/N.”

You moaned, only rousing when Peter pressed his lips to yours. You had responded without thinking, pushing up into his warm and familiar embrace with a tired sigh. Had it not been for the cold hand caressing your scalp you would have settled back into sleep, but the tender touch was enough to alert you.

You pulled away from his touch, a scowl claiming your features and breaking Peter's heart as he tried not to act offended by your quick withdrawal.

“What are you doing here, Pete?"

Oh, you were livid. Never did you call him Pete, finding the nickname off-putting and not nearly as cute as Peter, or your personal favorite, Parker. You could call him anything but Pete, hating the way he seemed to age beneath the nickname.

"I came to see you, didn’t realize I was so late.” His guilty frown would have been enough to ease the tension two days ago, but you were above simple apologies now. You weren't an idiot, for all living hell you had been friends with the boy since you were in diapers, and still he held himself back from you. If Peter was looking to get back in your good graces anytime soon, he’d have to be honest with you: share a truth you had known since the start.

“Late would imply a couple hours, Pete. Not a couple of days.” Your yawn had created the shadow of a smile across his lips, but quickly he wiped away his glee. You hated when people found you cute, especially when you were trying to be mad at them. Peter knew that. “Made your favorite cookies and everything."

"I see that, baby.” He was pleading without even uttering a please, or a sorry. His puppy-like eyes and swollen lip was enough to prove his genuineness, but you weren't having any of it. You’d been quick to give him the benefit of the doubt one to many times before.

Peter Parker was your weakness, it was basically written across the empire state building.

“Don’t baby me, Pete. We had plans for Friday, and you said you had work, and Sunday, and you sent MJ. I’m not even sure MJ likes me! What happened today? Was it May, or Happy?” You knew what it was. You knew that Spiderman had been called to the smoke shop at the corner of seventh, but you needed to hear it from him. You needed to know that he trusted you, because going to sleep every night knowing the person you love most in the world faces death at every moment is anything but settling.

Peter sighed gently, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You didn’t flinch away, but you didn’t lean into his lingering touch and offer up a bright grin or gentle kiss like you always did; like you loved doing. Instead, you were stone in his hands, refusing to be molded by his touch.

“I’m sorry, things have been crazy lately."

"Crazy for who?"

Crazy for Spiderman, Peter Parker just gets dragged along, you thought sourly as you watched the face of a childhood friend melt into a stranger.

Peter spluttered at the question sweet brown eyes looking over you with uncertainty, "What do you mean, love?”

“Don’t keep lying to me, Peter.” The gentle tone of your voice broke his heart, your anger subsiding into exhaustion. “I deserve more than that."

"I just want to keep you safe.” He didn’t bother saying the words, the soft edge to you words enough to solidify your knowledge. He wasn’t shocked, You had always been perceptive, especially when it came to figuring him out. When he shut the rest of the world out you were always the one to see through the thin, barely patched up cracks.

“I don’t need to be kept safe, Peter. I don’t scare easily.” You scoffed, light eyes tracing his movements and the way his thumb continuously nursed at a wound on his side. “What does scare me is when my boyfriend climbs out of his bedroom window at night, puts on a mask, and acts like he doesn’t have school the next morning. When my best friend puts himself between a stranger and a loaded gun, or climbs onto a fucking spaceship, or holds his mentor while he dies. I worry that you wont come back to me in one piece, and when it happens nobody will be straight with me. That’s what scares me, Peter. Not some lowlife robber, or a highly manipulative supervillain. It’s you, you scare me."

"I scare you?” Peter’s eyes were glassy as he looked you over, bottom lip caught between his teeth with worry.

You didn’t bother apologizing, just nodding your head and squeezing your hands together. You lifted her phone, softly nudging it between his hands knowing your password engraved in his mind: you trusted him like that.

“I texted you, twelve times. I texted Ned to, but he blocked me because he was trying to cover for you.” You sniffled, “You know what twitter said, Peter? It was headlines all claiming Spiderman was at the barrel of a gun, and when I got no answer, I thought the worse. I laid here for hours thinking you were dead on some convenient store floor, and that when the news broke of Spiderman’s death I would have to call May and ask her where you were. Would she tell me the truth Peter, or would she maintain your little lie?"

Peter was speechless, mouth opening and closing trying to find the right words to say that could possibly fix what he had unintentionally broken. You knew this, you could see it on his face, and his guilt was making your decision even harder to vocalize.

"I get it Peter, I really do. You wanted to keep your circle small, didn’t want anybody else in harm's way, I really do get it, but did you really think I wouldn’t notice? Peter, I notice when you trim your hair, I definitely notice when you get bitten by a radioactive spider and Tony Stark becomes your best friend."

"You’re my best friend."

You sadly shook her head, "I was. Now I’m just Y/N."

PETER PARKER TAGLIST

A — E

@aidinniram @beautifulwisdom2001 @bigfeelings-smallwords @dmonchld @dpaccione

F — J

@goldenxstyles7 @hmw696

K — O

@kelieah @marajillana @mischiefandi

P — T

@parkers-gal @roseke @stiles-o-dylan24 @spookybooisa @stillmanicc @sonnydoesrandomshit @sambucky8 @spideysensesl @sinisterspidey @tanakaslastbraincell @teen--marvel

U — Z

@zspideyy

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fluff #peter parker fic #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman angst #spiderman fluff

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bohica160 · 3 years

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Chris getting some tlc

Sorry it's been a hot minute😔 I had to train someone at work and it was draining. Anyways! Happy belated birthday @gory-goth 🎉🎉🎉 I hope you enjoy this🥺❤

ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗMINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERECT ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Warnings: Body/muscle worship, fem/afab reader, Chris being a beef cake, massage, cowgirl, Chris got body hair

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Having such a physically demanding job, Chris was bound to eventually feel all the years of beating he himself have done to his body but also by fighting against B.O.Ws. It was definitely one of those days where he felt he moved a little bit slower. His limbs felt stiff and sore no matter which way he bent them.

It was finally the end of the day. Normally when Chris came home you'd run to him and jump into his arms, catching you every time without batting an eyelash. But today as you threw yourself at him, he stumbled back a couple of steps with a low deep painful sound rising from his throat. You unhook your arms around his neck to get a good look at his face. "You okay baby?" Concern laced in your voice. He gave you a small nod and a tired smile. "Just feeling a little sore. Just going to take some ibuprofen." "How much have you taken today?" You asked with a skeptical look on your face. He let out a sigh in defeat, "2400." "Yeah no. You are going to go take a hot shower right now and I'll get the oil." The firmness of your tone left no room for him to argue. He lowered you down enough for your feet to touch the ground. He gave you a defeated okay before leaning down placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

Chris always felt guilty when you pampered him. Especially when you work out the knots in his muscles with your tiny hands. The first time you massaged his shoulders, your poor hands were so sore for the next few days. Never once have you ever complained though. You honestly loved feeling each and every one of his muscles. You love feeling his tense muscles slowly succumb to the warmth of your hands, becoming putty in minutes.

You grabbed a couple of towels and the deep muscle oil before heading upstairs to the bedroom. As you walked through the doorway the sound of the shower stopped. You laid down a couple of towels in the middle of the bed before going into the closet and fished out a couple of clothing items for Chris to change into after. You heard the padding of his feet across the room before a grunt as he climbed on top of the bed. Once you turned around you saw the large naked man lying face down on the bed, face buried in the pillows. You shook your head with a smile noticing he barely dried himself off before jumping into bed. You grabbed one of the extra towels and helped dry the rest of him off. Following along the dip in his back and over his firm plump ass, you bit your lip as a mischievous smirk grew on your face. The temptation to quickly bring down your hand to the skin of his behind was taking over your mind. Almost as if he could feel your playful behavior radiating off of you, "don't you dare," he turned his head to get a look at you. "Maybe if you didn't have such a slappable butt," you said with a pout as you continued to wipe down the last of the water droplets that still clung to his body hair.

You discarded the damp towel in the corner of the room at the laundry basket. You climbed onto the bed and carefully threw one of your legs over the man's waist, slowly sitting yourself down on the small of his back. "You okay?" You asked leaning forward just a bit. He nodded with a hum. You placed a kiss on the right shoulder blade before sitting up straight. Grabbing the oil, you popped open the cap and poured a fair amount into the middle of your hand. You placed the bottle on the bedside table before rubbing the liquid between your hands, warming it up with friction.

A shiver ran down his body as you placed both hands on the middle of his back. You worked your hands up his back, following up both sides of his spine. Pressing firmly into his traps with the balls of your palms before gliding down his sides, thumbs firmly pressed into his lats. The grunts and sighs of approval made your chest tighten but also created heat to pool in your core. Probably also didn't help that you were only wearing a tank top and panties.

Placing your hands on both sides of his neck, you began to rub soothing circles at the back of his neck. It always surprised you how thick of a man he was. The fact that your hands could never touch each other while you had them wrapped around his neck almost made you drool. The sheer size of each muscle would have you rubbing your legs together if you weren't straddling him. Your thumbs glided over his shoulders, continuing to rub in circular motions. As you felt him sink further into the bed, you began to knead the muscles between your thumbs and forefingers. Once you felt the muscle relax, you would slowly move down the middle of his back on each side of his spine, feeling out spots that needed more attention. Whenever you found a tough knot, the moment you began to work it loose, the man under you would groan, shifting where he laid. "Is this okay?" You asked as you leaned forward, speaking softly against his skin, placing more kisses. "Mmmm… perfect."

Continuing your ministrations down his body, you scootched down to sit on the back of his thighs. Using the balls of your palms, you kneaded your way towards the lower region of his back. He began to take deep breaths in time with your hands. Releasing all the air in his lungs as you pushed down into the muscle. Then fill his lungs with air while you rub at the area with your thumbs using much less force. After a while, Chris adjusted his arms to lay at his sides. His fingers draw random patterns on your legs. The light playful touches only made you squirm. “Don’t make me slap your ass Redfield,” you said in a playful tone while. “Was that a threat?” You squeezed at one of his cheeks, your fingers barely able to sink into the thick meat of his ass. He released a small hiss against his teeth. You let out a light laugh, “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” You lifted yourself up from where you sat and grabbed the bottle of oil. You poured a few drops more into the middle of your hand as you knelt next to him on the bed with your back towards him.

You rubbed the oil into the back of his bulky thighs, from just below his cheeks, to the back of his knees. Starting with one leg, you grabbed both sides and slowly worked your way down using your palms and fingers. Each time your finger got dangerously close to his inner thigh, he would release a shaky breath. Even letting out a couple of grunts. After working on the other leg, a smirk grew on your face once you noticed Chris was breathing quite heavily. Giving his leg a light tap you asked him to flip over. “Other side,” you said in a singsong tone. You could hear him taking deep long breaths trying to calm himself down. “What’s the matter baby?” trying to sound as innocent as you could. “N-nothing.”

While you waited for Chris to lay on his back, you turned back around, grabbing one of the towels at the head of the bed to wipe off the excess oil on your hands. In the corner of your eye, you could see the blush rising from his chest to his face. You didn’t have to look over your shoulder to know your boyfriend had a hard-on from the rubdown. “Ready?” You already swung your leg around his middle, not giving him time to reply. As you lowered yourself down to straddle his lower abdomen, you rubbed your ass against his cock, causing the air to get stuck in his lungs. “You okay?” you batted your eyes at him, leaning forward, inching closer to his face. All he could do was nod as he tried to get the coughing under control. You gave him a reassuring smile before giving his cheeks a few pecks. You wiggled your hips, trying to “adjust yourself”, accidentally brushing up against him again. The heat from your core radiates onto his length. Chris quickly placed his hands on your hips trying to hold you still. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing again. “What’s wrong baby?” you asked in a honeyed voice, pressing your chest firmly against his. As he opened his blue eyes to look at you, he couldn’t help but notice your breasts barely being contained in the confinement of your tank top. The doe-eyes you were giving him, along with your cleavage was making it harder for him to think.

He was so hypnotized between your breasts and your lip caught between your teeth, he didn’t notice you reaching back, pulling your panties to the side. It wasn’t until he felt your slick folds rub against his cock. “Shit” he hissed as you kept sliding him up and down between your lips. His fingers dug deeper into your hips, “Still feels good?” “Y-yeah” His voice was barely above a whisper as he looked at you with lidded eyes. You gave his cock a couple more strokes before you positioned your cunt over him, slowly easing him into your heat. He sunk his head further into the bed as you kept up the teasing pace. With only a few more inches to go, he was losing all patience. He needed to feel himself bottom out in your sweet sex. However, being the tease you are, you slowly began to pull him out. Catching onto your antics, he thrust up into you, knocking the air out of your lungs. Your walls clamping down around him.

“Fuuuuck. You’re squeezing so hard” He groaned as he rutted up into, trying to push even further into you. Once you were able to compose yourself, you began to slide yourself up and down at a languid pace, “I-I’m supp-posed to be giving you the m-massage” You pushed off his chest sitting up, pulling your top off before throwing it somewhere behind you. Taking one of Chris’s hands you brought it up to your breast. Cupping the flesh and pinched the hardened peak between his fingers. He was soon approaching release faster than he wanted but watching you ride him was going straight to his cock. He knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. His hand on your breast began to pinch and twist the pebbled flesh harder while his other hand trailed over to your cunt, his thumb rubbing your bundle of nerves in a circular motion.

The sudden attention to your clit had your walls spasm and contract around him. You felt your gut tighten and your breath hitching. “Shit. Baby”, you moaned placing both your hands on his fuzzy chest leaning forward just enough for him to hit that perfect spot with each roll of your hips. Dropping his hand from your breast, he placed his hand back on your hip, pulling you down onto him as he thrust up into your with unrelenting force. It only took the two of you a couple more hard thrusts, before you both came undone. You grinded into him as you milked him dry, walls fluttering around his pulsing member. Once the two of you finally caught your breaths, just as you were about to lift yourself off of him to clean up, he snaked his arms around you, pulling you down onto his chest. Light giggles escaped past your lips as his chest hair tickled your nose. “Baby we need to clean up” “We need to let our muscles relax for a bit” You shook your head against his chest. You relaxed further into him listening to his soothing heartbeat while he combed a hand through your hair.

✿•*`¨*`•.¸¸.•´*¨`*•✿✿•*`¨*`•.¸¸.•´*¨`*•✿✿•*`¨*`•.¸¸.•´*¨`*•✿

(ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ°˖✧.*:･ Tag list: @thatgoblin , @interviewedchicken , @selenedeathdealer , @tiredbeebo

#resident evil #chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield smut #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #chris redfield x yn #chris redfield x you #resident evil x yn #fem reader #afab reader #most likely grammar errors

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that-yandere-life · 2 years

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Tony and Bucky’s Drunken Dramatics!

[Warnings: Yandere Themes (Obviously), Drunken Antics, Drunk Flying (Don’t drink and drive an Iron Man suit people)]

Tony-

Tony woke up after a little Avenger’s get together the night before expecting a hangover, what he was not expecting was to wake up next to you.

Of course he instantly recognized you, he was utterly obsessed with you, knowing everything about you despite only being your friend.

Both of you were fully clothed so that means that the two of you didn’t knock boots so that was something he could go off of.

So confused by your state in his bed he didn’t realize that you were waking up watching him go through every emotion on the spectrum.

It was so hard not to laugh at the intense focus he was lost in, wondering how in the hell you got from your house to his.

Barely able to remember anything from the night before, that was the last time he ever lets Thor bust out the Asgardian mead.

Finally breaking from his thoughts long enough to gaze upon you, jumping a little when he realized you were staring right back at him.

Amused you couldn’t help but giggle at his abrupt movement in the act of noticing that you too were awake.

Asking you point blank how you got there, not that he was complaining or anything, quite the opposite.

“Well….you showed up at my house at 4 AM in an Iron Man suit drunk, confessing that you were hopelessly in love with me, and that you couldn’t spend the rest of your life without me, and in my half asleep state I agreed to go with you so here I am.”

Requesting the JARVIS show him the footage from his journey, it was slightly embarrassing but also endearingly sweet.

That was why you didn’t see the harm in going with him, because clearly he meant every word he was speaking.

You trusted Tony before, but the hopeless romantic in you couldn’t help but give into the passionate temptation he had laid before you.

Sure there was risk in going with a drunk man in a high powered weapon, but in your dazed state you weren’t concerned about it.

Clearly the two of you had made it back to the place safely, as you were both cuddled up next to each other in his bed.

While he couldn’t believe his luck that you had felt the same way too, he was also ashamed that he was drunk when he admitted his feelings towards you.

Apologizing for that aspect, not the words he stated while he was intoxicated because they were genuine, but the alcohol consumption itself.

Of course you found it adorable when he was trying to say sorry for something that he didn’t need to be sorry for.

Telling him just that, leaning in slightly as he placed a soft hand on your cheek, eyes never leaving yours.

Only breaking the contact when his eyelids fluttered shut as he kissed you so tenderly it was as if you were going to explode if you didn’t have more immediately.

Pulling you even closer to him, wanting to touch and explore every single ounce of you now that you were his.

Not just in a sexual way but in a sensual way, he was going to take his time becoming thoroughly acquainted.

Nothing left between you but life, what a long glorious life you both have ahead of you… together forever.

Bucky-

Bucky didn’t understand Steve’s want to go to the small get together Tony was having for a mission well done.

Neither of them could get drunk, the burn of the alcohol the only effect he ever felt on his body.

That is, until Thor brought out some Asgardian mead for the group to share, promising that it would take the edge off.

Downing it like it was regular alcohol was definitely a mistake, one that he didn’t realize until it was far too late.

Deciding to go on a walk to try and let the night air sober him up some, not used to the feeling after being without it for so long.

Not knowing how to properly act or how else to come back down from the intense sloshing going on in his brain.

Feet taking him wherever they were going to take him, he was no longer in true control of his journey.

Somehow ending up miles away on your doorstep in the middle of the night, you had just laid down in bed to go to sleep however.

A knock on your door pulling you out of your slightly exhausted state wondering who in the hell would be there at that time of night.

Looking out your peephole seeing Bucky standing or swaying there as he waited for you to open up, not realizing when it was in the night.

Asking to make sure he was okay, he could only smile at you honestly, just happy to see your familiar face, letting him know he was safe now.

Offering to drive him back home to make sure he gets into bed safe, he eagerly takes you up on the offer wanting to spend more time with you.

It definitely wasn’t an easy task to help a heavily intoxicated Super Soldier out of the car and through the halls but you managed it.

Arriving at his room you ask JARVIS to open the door for you which he gladly obliges, shimmying him inside.

Ready to flop him onto the bed where he could pass out in comfort, unfortunately he attempted that part a little too soon.

Effectively knocking you back onto the bed, with his giant body on top of you barely able to breath at first.

Eventually after trying several times to get him to wake up you just resign yourself to your fate and nod off to sleep with him.

Quite a while later Bucky woke up with his arms around you, holding you tightly to his chest like he was worried you would disappear if he let go.

Incredibly confused because he didn’t even remember leaving the party last night, or showing up at your house.

Remembering what his grandmother had told him once which was don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Stirring slightly you snuggled into his chest before realizing that there was an actual person there, bringing you back to the reality of last night.

Inquiring as to why you were there, making sure you knew that he was just shocked, not unhappy about the situation.

“For someone who is in such great shape you sure are heavy, I tried to help you into bed after we got you back here. I got a little squished but you do make a nice warm blanket and pillow.”

Slightly embarrassed he tried to swear to you that he would never drink like that again, but you told him you liked being needed by him.

It was a great role reversal for you when usually he was the one taking care of you, keeping you safe, making sure you had what you needed.

Unable to keep the huge smile from growing on his face, nuzzling his nose into your hair, tickling you slightly.

Somehow a night he can’t remember turned into the best night of his life.

[This idea was based off a dream I had last night, it definitely wasn’t what the first scenario entails. (heh) Anyway! I hope that you all enjoy, and that you think it’s kind of cute and funny like I did! <3]

#yandere tony stark #yandere tony stark x reader #yandere bucky barnes #yandere bucky barnes x reader #yandere iron man #yandere winter soldier #yandere marvel #dark marvel #dark tony stark #dark bucky barnes #dark tony stark x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader

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burnedbyshoto · 3 years

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indulge me

indulge me: an arrangement

— Being a secret little girl in the modern world is rough, but it becomes much more chaotic when a classmate of yours offers to be your new daddy dom.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, nsfw, ddlg dynamic, college!au, modern!au, daddy!shouto, little girl!reader, I am not well versed in this dynamic please do not use this as an educational source, dom!shouto, sub!reader, biting, marking, mating press, nipple play (both), spanking, oral, gagging, choking, praise, degradation, little space

word count: 13,547

a/n: this is a commission for @bakusbiatch thank you for your endless amount fo patience as it took me 100x longer than ever to write this

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If there was something you knew now that you completely did not understand at the age of eighteen was the entire dynamics of sex. To be fair, after an adolescence of watching porn, reading erotica, and even gossiping between friends, it was, without doubt, that you were entirely clueless about real, healthy dynamics.

First off, the first time you had sex was super uncomfortable.

There was no break or even space for pleasure to build in because you had been so tense, so awkward that you remained rigid and still the entire three minutes the guy fucked into you. You remember his sweat-soaked body collapsing on top of you, his eyes seeing galaxies in the stuffy, now smelly room as he breathed out a ‘Woah.’

You had smiled at him stiffly, letting his softening dick flop out of your dry vagina and curled in on yourself as he snuggled into you, praising the world and everything around it for this moment. It was without saying that you left his cum stained sheets and ran back home.

Sex sucked.

But that was when you were seventeen and made the terrible decision on fucking your friend with whom you had scary sexual tension. You avoided sex to your best ability after that, not so much as caring to allow anyone to touch you because that was disappointing. Why would you go through that when your fingers sufficed much better? Why go through that awkward tension when you didn’t have any moments of awkwardness when reading smut?!

Audios were better.

Words were best.

But, as one does, you fell in love against your will to a boy just a few months older than you. His smile was soft, and his words were kind, but oh, did his touch drive you hot and mad. You weren’t exactly sure how long you had lasted, how much perseverance you had kept when the two of you would fall onto his (thank fucking god) clean sheets, his strong hands and fingers keeping your hips close to his as you kissed him as if you couldn’t live without his touch.

“Are you… are you ready?” he had asked, his shirt thrown into the abyss of his room and the button of your jeans undone, revealing the simple set of panties you had on. “I don’t want to—”

“I’m ready,” you interrupt him, your body practically burning from the inside out with the desperate need and lust for him to fuck you. “I’m ready.”

He stills, his tongue peeking past his lips before a slow, chilling grin spreads against his mouth.

“Okay,” he nods, “can I ask you to do something, though?”

You, in your desperation to get his dick out of his sweats and buried deep into your throbbing cunt, nod.

“I have a daddy kink… I really, really like the daddy little girl dynamics,” he breathes, palms pressing to your knees and dragging down your inner thighs in a teasing, near authoritative way. “Can we… are you interested in trying it?”

Now, although you had largely avoided sex, toys and fingers weren’t nearly enough to replace the overwhelming need to be touched, fucked, and worshipped by another human being. You had fucked plenty of people who had always claimed to have kinks and fetishes. Most of the men you had in bed who said they had a daddy kink only liked being addressed as daddy; that was it. There was no true dynamic, just a play on the power the title brought them.

So, in the naive, childish way you were, you agreed.

You listened to his every command in bed, thrilled and keened under his praise for his princess, for his little girl, and you ate it up, thanking and praising your daddy. The sex ended with you cumming so hard you went blind for a moment, so dizzy from your high. As the both of you drifted off to sleep, you had no clue when you woke up in the morning he would present you with a little girl starter package made by him for you specifically. It was then that you realized that dynamics were an actual thing, and as he presented you a checklist of kinks, toys, and rules he laid out, you realized that nothing you had ever experienced — real or fictional — could have prepared you for this.

The two of you went through the list and rules together, your eyes widening and face blazing with embarrassment as he described his expectations and needs with this dynamic. You nodded, so completely lost in this entire thing that you agreed with most everything he offered and wanted.

The one rule you did have didn’t necessarily surprise him.

The dynamic was to remain a secret, you asserted, unable to budge on this thought. You could be his little girl, but it was to stay in private, never in public. And he tilted his head in thought but ultimately agreed with a smile. He thought you’d one day stop being in the closet over this kink, and you thought the opposite.

And time moves forward; it’s rigid and unforgiving. Two years into a relationship, a year and a half into the dynamic, you and your daddy break up, and you, against all odds, are left scrambling for a daddy you never realized you needed.

What was a girl to do?

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Your head is angled downward, and the hood that sits on your head is not concealing your face as well as you would have liked. It was without saying that you were a woman of pride. You took great care of what you did, how people viewed you, and how you presented yourself to the world. Most days, you always exited your small apartment as an excellent student who was always wearing properly done makeup and stylish outfits.

Your style screamed confident woman (not little girl, you absolutely refused to wear anything cutesy in public), and you walked with your chin raised and eyes on the horizon.

To see that you were in sweats, an oversized hoodie, no makeup on, and perusing the store's area made for young girls and toddlers, was a shock. You had made sure to come nearly thirty minutes before closing; no one would be here to accidentally see you, no one could see you in your embarrassing shame-picking for your dynamic. All because your newest daddy couldn’t afford to buy you new things since your old ones had your ex’s name or brand all over it.

This was for the best; you reminded yourself as you haphazardly threw the items within the basket, face flaming as you ignored the temptation to simply stand in the aisle and flip through the sticker book and coloring book you recently tossed into the cart. You were fine; you already had your plan of action on what to say when purchasing these items.

‘My sister is pregnant again, and she already has a kid,’ you mentally rehearsed, imagining an excited smile on your face because you are excited for this imaginary pregnant sister of yours. ‘It’s a present for the baby and the brat.’

Solid.

Perfect.

Beautiful.

Making sure to quickly take note of what was inside the basket, you spun on your heel and marched your way through the empty store to the deserted register.

You kept your head down as you placed the basket on the conveyor belt, easy peasy, you would be fine!

“Found everything you were looking for?” a voice asks, piercing through your mental rehearsal just in case you got questions.

You blink, head raising up, exposing your face to the person behind the register.

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal.

Checking things out at the register wasn’t supposed to be all that embarrassing. I mean, what could top having to buy pads and tampons from a creepy, greasy old man during your very first period ever?! But you had to admit seeing a familiar face behind the register as he began to scan the items in your cart kinda made it a big deal.

Todoroki Shouto read his name tag, and ‘TODOROKI SHOUTO?!’ screamed your heart.

Oh, how to describe Todoroki Shouto, well you didn’t even know where to begin.

Shouto was one thousand percent a supermodel that has yet to be recruited. He could probably be a top star athlete, good enough to go overseas if he wanted. He was a genius. Someone who was somehow friends with everyone he came across even though he was a man of few words.

He stood tall behind the register, the tight black high collared shirt sitting beneath a light blue opened dress shirt. His distinctive red and white slightly wavy hair — all-natural, you believe — pushed back in a way that you would bet to hell and back that he had run his fingers through it. For the past three years in university, you had more than a few classes with this stunning man. You two shared the same major, and he often sat at the back of the classroom, but you were nearly hyperaware of everything he did because his voice was liquid honey and sex and everything that was —

“You can let go of the basket,” Shouto cut through your thoughts, and you gasped loudly, suddenly realizing that you had zoned out thinking about him.

Your hand lets go of the basket, and you slap your sweater-covered hands over your mouth; horror strikes through you like a blazing sword. You weren’t wearing makeup, you were in trash clothes, and you were in front of a man you had lusting feelings over!

NO!

“Sorry!” you squeak, your heart and bile rising up your throat at alarming rates as Shouto merely smiles at you in understanding. “This is all stuff for my sister!”

Shouto blinks, his head tilting to the side as he scans a sippy cup.

“Your sister’s quite young,” he remarks easily, trying not to make you feel stupider—probably.

Tell the lie, y/n, you chide yourself as you shift your weight.

“Ah, well, not actually my sister,” you explain, fingers scratching against your scalp. “My sister is pregnant r-right now, and she already has a little one, so I thought that this would be a good… present?”

Nailed it.

Shouto’s eyebrows quirk, a small smile spreading across his face as he scans the plush doll.

“That’s very kind of you; you must have a good relationship with your sister.”

“O-Oh yeah, we’re very close.”

“And would you say that this is something appropriate to give to a pregnant family member and their child?”

You froze and looked down at the items you had hastily thrown into the basket.

It was a pacifier, sippy cup, baby blanket, choker, coloring books, stuffed animal, candy, and stickers.

You choked, feeling heat exploding in your cheeks all over again; absolutely not. This was not something to give to a pregnant woman.

“My sister is pregnant,” Shouto explains, definitely sensing your poorly concealed stress, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m the youngest of my siblings, so I don’t really know what to buy her.”

“Absolutely the fuck not.”

Shouto blinked, and before you could start screaming apologies over your rudeness, he began laughing loudly. Your face continued to burn in your utter humiliation and shame, but Shouto only found amusement in this all as he began to place your items away in a bag.

“What are your recommendations then?” Shouto finally asked, his lips pulled back into an easy, teasing grin. “And that’ll be forty-eight seventy-three.”

You shoved your card into the chip scanner immediately, your gaze everywhere but on him.

“I think you should get whatever your sister wants or still needs,” you quickly say, eyes now focusing on the Approved message on the machine. “Every person is different.”

“I suppose,” Shouto agrees, his arms crossing against his chest, and you have to resist the temptation to ogle at the way his muscles become sinfully pronounced. “Well, I won’t hold you up. See you in lecture tomorrow, y/l/n.”

“Bye!” you squawk, grabbing your bag and racing out.

His eyes burn into your back the entire rush out of the store, but you find that you can’t seem to worry about that. You’re much more elated and somehow horrified at the realization that he knew exactly who you were.

Step zero of who knows how many to get Todoroki Shouto to fall in love with you, complete!

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“So, about the upcoming paper assignment, I’m sure you’re all eager to get started on,” your professor’s voice boomed throughout the lecture hall, his arms folding across his chest as he leans against the podium with an easy grin. “I decided that I would be nice and allow for some partnering up!”

Your eyes widened as excited murmurs exploded through the classroom.

Partners for a ten-page paper? You were going to thank god almighty.

But, at the same time, you frowned. This was a class where you didn’t exactly know anyone. It was a course outside of your own major, and with your usual friends not in this class, you knew that you were going to have to go out of your way to find a partner. You withered a bit in your chair, not entirely on board with that train of thought.

“There are an uneven amount of you guys in the class, though,” your professor continued, still sporting that easy grin on his face. “And I decided that instead of having too many groups of three, and because I was so nice to allow partner work, I decided to make the partners. Look at the pinned paper at the door for your partner or partners for the group of three! No, I will not allow trades, and no, I will not allow complaining! Be grateful!”

Hopeful and exasperated murmurs sounded through the room as the professor dismissed the class and frantic movement followed after. Even as old as they were, everyone was desperate and eager to see who a random generator assigned them to. Packing up swiftly, you threw your bag over your shoulder and began walking towards the list.

You wonder who you were gonna get.

“Y/l/n,” a voice spoke softly, lowly by your ear.

You whipped around — one part startled, a second part curious — and came to see Todoroki Shouto standing slightly behind you. His gaze was at the wall for a moment, dropping only when you were looking up at him. He smiles slowly, and you feel your chest tighten.

Oh boy.

“Todoroki,” you smile, attempting to relax completely in front of him. “Any hopes as to who’s your partner?”

“Well, as long as it isn’t Sero, I think it’ll be okay,” Shouto’s eyes crinkle with his deepened smile. “Last time I did a paper with him, we did it completely high—” you choke, eyes widening at the thought of trying to be eloquent enough to write a paper while high. “—It was terrible.”

“Oh, I bet,” you laugh, arms crossing across your chest as the two of you begin inching forward within the crowd, others leaving with proud laughs, curious frowns, or aggravated groans. “But at least it sounds like it was turned in?”

“It was,” Shouto nods, his teeth flashing as he finally tears his gaze from you. “Oh, would you look at that?”

You hum, eyes squinting as you try to read the list through the many heads before you.

Y/l/n, Todoroki S.

“Would you look at that.”

“Seems like we’re partners,” you laugh, relief and horror flooding your body.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

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So, it was decided that with the two weeks given to write the paper and taking Shouto’s job into account, this paper was to be written as soon as possible. The suggestion of working on it together in the same room and not just through google doc was brought up and agreed upon. So with consensus on that, the matter of where it was going to happen was brought up.

“We can do it at my place,” Shouto offered with a shrug, “my house is pretty big.”

“I don’t have a car,” you interject, a frown on your face — you wanted to see his house. “My apartment is five minutes from campus. Is that alright?”

A smile.

“That’s perfect.”

And so, on a Friday afternoon, you found yourself already apologizing profusely as you walked up the staircase that smelled just a tiny bit of cheese. You warned him about the mess of your apartment. About how not to judge you on any and all messes you might have made on your way out! That you would have cleaned up had you known this was happening!

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Shouto spoke, attempting to ease your anxiety as you push your key in the doorknob and turn it. “I really don’t mind a messy place.”

“Ha, well, this is it,” you say, your face feeling disgustingly warm as you breach the entrance to your small one bedroom one bathroom place. “Leave your shoes right there, and we can head in!”

Toeing off your own shoes, you scrambled into the apartment, eyes wide as you attempted to make sure that nothing was crazily messy or out of place. There wasn’t any dirty laundry or undergarments anywhere? No, good!

Shouto locks the door behind himself, a chuckle at the back of his throat vibrating in his chest as he watches you skirt about. He looks down at the shoes you were wearing, white sneakers, and smirks at how small they look compared to his. He never really thought he was that tall or big, to be honest. It was a decent size for someone from his family, but it amused him greatly to see his things pushed against yours.

He looked back up, eyes landing on your flustered face as you stood by a table in the kitchen area.

“Ready?” he asked, hands shoving into his pockets.

“I believe so!”

And for some reason, probably the very same reason that had him entranced by you, Shouto laughs and steps foot into your apartment.

The paper itself isn’t that hard.

It’s an argumentative piece mostly on a Green Act proposal that was currently being debated within the government body. A paper that was fifty percent argument was something you were elated to have, but the other fifty percent was using sources and articles to further back your point. It was now two hours into the paper writing, takeout filling the empty spaces between the table as Shouto’s laughter and your ranting filled the open air. It was nice; he was nice to hang out with.

“I’m just saying we are nearing a universal climate disaster, and I do not want to be wondering when I will die because some fat old men with huge wallets want to continue getting richer!” you yelled, your chest heaving with your lack of proper air. “It’s dumb!”

“I bet if you grabbed ahold of their favorite toupees, they’d fold and agree,” Shouto teases, his grin covered by the mug he’s currently drinking tea from. “I’ll bail you out of prison.”

“I wouldn’t go to prison for that,” you argue, arms folding across your chest as you shake your head in solemn understanding. “They’d murder me and make it look like an accident.”

“Dark.”

“You know it.”

“I’ll avenge you.”

“You better, or else I’ll blame you for my murder.”

Shouto’s jaw dropped, ready to retaliate with something else, but he was interrupted by a loud call from your phone. You frowned, head tilting as you pulled your phone out from your jean pocket and stared at the screen.

Incoming call from: dd.

“I have to take this,” you say apologetically, standing up as you answered the call. You waited until you were in your bedroom before placing the phone to your head, your heart hammering with the unknown. “Hello?”

Shouto heard the click of your bedroom door, and he sighed, leaning back into his chair. His eyes looked up at the ceiling, momentarily bored now that he wasn’t with you. He wondered who ‘dd’ was and if you were alright. He hoped it wasn’t anything serious.

Grabbing his water cup, Shouto frowned, seeing that it was empty. He looked over at the sink where you had initially filled up the water cups. You wouldn’t mind if he filled it up on his own, right? Shouto pushed back his chair and stood, the cup resting in his fingers as he walked over towards the sink with a light hum.

He filled the cup slowly, not wanting to make too much noise. But as he stared at the drying dishes on your dish holder, he frowned at the sight of the pink sippy cup you had bought from the store last week. It was cleaned, obviously used, and he tilted his head.

Weird.

The cupboard was open, and Shouto couldn’t help but look into the dark wood and startled once again when he took in the neatly folded bib and the nearly innocuous pacifier sitting on top of it. Untouched, undisturbed, but used — definitely used.

Frowning, he took a slow, long drink of his water as he stared out towards the small living room you had. There, sitting on the wood coffee table, was the coloring book you had also purchased. That wasn’t adding up… if they were for your sister’s kids, why were they here? It didn’t exactly seem like the place to be holding them.

Shouto thought, trying to figure out just why you had all these things for… well, children.

Was testing products on your own a thing people did?

Well, yes, he supposed so, but these were already licensed products. The coloring book, well, he guesses that was a pretty normal thing! Drawing and coloring were everyday stress relieves — his mother often used that to help herself. But a pacifier, a bip, and a sippy cup? The only thing he could rationalize with that was—

“You’re being fucking ridiculous, daddy!” your voice harshly whispered (maybe ridiculed and mocked) from your room, just loud enough that Shouto heard, and his eyes widened.

Oh.

Ohh fuck.

“You know what, this isn’t working,” you scoff, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you roll your eyes to the heavens above. “This was a good trial run, but I’m going to have to end this. This is not what I was looking for.”

“Come on, brat, you know you don’t mean that—”

You hung up, your fingers curled in a fist as you growled lowly at the screen. You wasted no time in blocking the number. What a fucking terrible daddy he was. Didn’t buy you anything, didn’t support you, or help you. There was no dynamic in this relationship. It was just a power-hungry dom with a streak for being called daddy.

A fucking poser at best.

Rolling your eyes, you tossed your phone onto your bed and walked out of your room back to the main area of your place. You looked at Shouto, who was sitting in his chair, his face bored, maybe a bit tired, and his face was concentrated on his phone — he was idly scrolling through it.

“Sorry that took so long,” you apologize, slinking back onto your chair, hands rubbing your face. “I tried to be fast about that.”

Shouto peered past the top of his phone, a comforting smile on his face, “Don’t worry about it; it wasn’t like we were intensely working on the paper anyways.”

You smile, slightly embarrassed.

“That’s true, um—”

“I think it’s time—”

The both of you spoke over each other clumsily, awkwardly — both of you obviously thinking of something that wasn’t quite in front of you. Your smile feels less forced now, “we’re done for the day?”

Shouto shifts in his chair, his head dropping slightly in agreement, “I think that would be best. We did a lot today, though.”

“We did!” you agree with a laugh, standing up and grabbing the items off the table, assisting Shouto with getting ready to leave. “We’ll meet back up in two days?”

Shouto nods, “that sounds like a plan.”

You help him pack up, insisting that you could clean up the kitchen without his help. It takes a few minutes, but finally, you have him walking out of your place, a light wave on your hand before he exits onto the staircase. You close the door with a sigh.

Jesus Christ.

Shouto stands in the stairway, his eyes concentrated on his phone where he has a single question typed into his browser.

ddlg dynamics ↳ Let’s talk DDLG, also known as Daddy Dom Little Girl. It’s a submissive/dominant relationship where the dom is known as a “Daddy,” and the submissive is known as a “Little Girl.”

...Interesting.

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Now, you were a pretty paranoid person; you could admit that.

You didn’t like being paranoid, but you were. Most days, you always triple-checked you weren’t being followed, quadruple-checked you had your school assignments turned in and your things in your bag. With your sex life and part of your social life being introduced to the ddlg dynamic, your paranoia grew even more.

Most people weren’t understanding — they weren’t. They assumed this dynamic was simply calling your dom daddy in bed and getting called princess in return! They always believed that, allowed for that. It was socially acceptable to call your dom daddy in bed, but god fucking forbid any other part of the dynamic come into play.

You remember reading comments in articles about grown women sitting in frilly skirts and diapers as part of her dynamic and watching grown adults tear her apart — skin and bones. That was the reaction you feared, you hated.

There was a reason why you enjoyed sitting in your frilly skirts, in your white and baby pink clothes. You loved having your dom come home, tired and stressed, and ask you, his little girl, to sit on his lap while he distressed. You enjoyed the sippy cups that helped to melt your anxiety, and you enjoyed doing chores under your doms watchful eye.

The praises, the rewards were always so uplifting, and the sex was always on an intensity that made you tremble with explosive satisfaction. If your dom wanted you in diapers, you would negotiate appropriately, and you sure as hell didn’t need a fucking stranger’s opinion on whether or not that was ‘normal.’

But no amount of confidence you had in your dynamic had ever eased the bottomless paranoia and anxiety.

Hence why after Shouto had left your apartment and you realized in horror that you had left out some damning evidence to your dynamic. The coloring book on your coffee table and the sippy cup that was obviously used were on full display. You wondered for a few hours, nearly spirling with anxiety if he had noticed — if that was why he was partially stiff as he left for the day. You had only managed to calm down when he had sent you a text later that night that he had enjoyed being over and was looking forward to working together the next day.

The praise was needed, seeping warm into your bones as you rolled over in your bed and knocked out.

You thought that you were in the clear. That that was as far as things were going to go, but your paranoia came back the next day in full force as you sat in a group with Shouto.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Do you want a sticker?”

That was the beginning of it all.

You had accepted the sticker without a second thought. Your typical barriers down because the lack of a dom in your life was throwing you for a bit. God, you were pathetic. You had smiled brightly, eagerly nodding as you thrust your hands out towards Shouto, waiting to receive a sticker.

“Good job,” he had said with an endearing smile, “you deserve it.”

It was only then that the weight of what happened settled on your bones, and you froze.

Fuck.

Smiling stiffly, you pressed the sparkly pink star to your shirt and returned back to your assignment, unable to speak up again for some time.

You had hoped that it was going to end there, but it seemed that nothing about your life was going in your favor right now.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Do you have a bedtime?” Shouto idly asked one late night when he was over, and you could not stop yawning to save your life. “I think everyone should go to bed at 10 p.m. on a school night, don’t you agree?”

You had choked on your saliva before disagreeing vehemently.

“I don’t sleep until… like, um, three in the morning?” you make up, teeth tearing into your lip as you avoided eye contact.

“Such a bad girl,” Shouto murmured, much too low for you to pick up.

“What?!”

“That’s bad for your health,” he recovered with a smile.

“Oh… yeah, I suppose so.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Y/l/n is a sub; she’s a brat about that,” Shouto said to the group you both were assigned to in yet another class the two of you shared.

You had been idly drinking from your coffee cup and was utterly zoned out when he said that. So when you had picked up his words, you nearly choked at the sentence, your eyes watering and your throat burning with your drink and humiliation as the entire table turned to look at you.

“Oh shit, are you okay?!” Mina asked, eyes wide.

“I’m a what?!” you splutter instead, eyes focused on Shouto and your cheeks beginning to burn with unsaid fear.

“You’re a substitute babysitter for your sister,” Shouto remarked, his head tilted as he feigned innocence. “You were telling me about that the other day, remember? Sero is trying to get into the babysitting gig too.”

You wanted to believe him, you wanted so desperately to believe that Shouto was just somehow landing a missile into every paranoid corner of your life without meaning to, but this was getting out of control. This was too on the head, too obvious to not say that he somehow saw your little things and pieced together the dynamic you’ve come to love and thrive in. But you couldn’t fess up; you wouldn’t give yourself to the wolves of embarrassment and shame over something you knew wasn’t wrong.

“Oh,” you say stiffly, smiling over at Sero, “I’m on an app that is used a lot by small families; I can text you the name?”

“I’d appreciate that!” Sero laughs, blissfully unaware of the rising tension between you and Shouto. “I didn’t think that high school girls had some type of business turf thing; they’re scary and aggressive!”

“It’s a serious job for high schoolers,” Mina waved him off, “this is the only thing most of them can do!”

The conversation between Sero and Mina began to drift off as you were staring at Shouto, unable to break the eye contact the both of you found yourselves connected by. You didn’t want to pull away, too bitter and anxious to. You were currently two weeks without a daddy dom in your life, and you knew that you should be able to have a better grasp on your life than this — you knew you couldn’t lean on this dynamic at every point in your life. But you were sad to admit that you were struggling to keep your head afloat. You felt like you were almost drowning, struggling to keep your composure as you needed a play or a simple scene.

But the confidence in Shouto’s eyes that were hidden behind the sheer curiosity and wonder was making your skin itch, making you want to grab him by the collar and bring him in close and demand to know exactly what he was thinking.

He would not embarrass you.

He would not.

“Can I talk to you, Todoroki?” you asked, practically demanded of Shouto as the group of you began to stand at the table, readying to leave.

If you noticed Mina’s and Sero’s eyebrows shoot up towards the ceiling, you didn’t say anything as Shouto paused in putting things into his backpack. His head tilted, but he nodded his head, “yeah, about what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile stiffly, tossing your own backpack over your shoulder as you turn on your heel and immediately begin walking. Uncaring if he was following you or not. “Bye, Mina, Sero.”

There’s silence behind you before the heady sound of a chair scraping against the floor is heard and the long, quick strides of Shouto following after you. You exit the cafe you had been in, eyes squinting when the harsh rays of sun fall on your face, but you don’t hesitate or pause even once.

There’s no one outside right now; it’s just you and Shouto.

You feel him at your shoulder, and you keep your gaze straight ahead, unwilling to look at him just yet.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” you finally whisper, your voice low and angry. You nearly spat them out at him, utterly humiliated and horrified that you were probably outing yourself should he just be that dense and annoyingly able to pick at your anxiety. “Stop it.”

“I don’t—” Shouto began, eyes wide and screaming of innocence that could make you cry.

“I know you saw my things, and I know you pieced it together,” you cut him off, your lips pursed tight. You suddenly stop in your tracks, tears burning at the back of your eyes as you turn to face Shouto. “So if you have a problem with that, I suggest that you kindly fuck off!”

Shouto stands next to you, hair hastily swept backward, hand on the strap of his bag, and his face telling you that you had miscalculated something. You prayed it wasn’t about how he knew about you being a little.

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Shouto admits, his hand raising to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t think you’re weird or strange or bad for being into the ddlg dynamic. I’m actually… I take part in it too. I was trying to subtly tell you that I was into it as well, and well, I heard that you and your last dom broke it off… I wanted to tell you that I was interested in becoming your new dom.”

You blink.

“Eh?!”

“I’m interested in forming an agreement with you?” Shouto tilts his head; there’s a sense of seriousness to his face, his eyes innocent. “I need a little, and if you’re looking for a dom…”

He lets the silence fill the rest of his sentence, and your mouth gapes open as blood rushes to your face at the straightforward request.

“I… I barely know you!” you splutter, your heart in your ears as you can barely comprehend what was going on.

Two weeks ago, Todoroki Shouto was practically a stranger. You knew him about as well as a person knew the barista at their favorite coffee shop. Friendly, but not close. Definitely not close enough for you to say that you would allow for him to see you in your little space, for him to give you a list of rewards and punishments — for possible sex?!

“Most caregiver contracts like this are done between people who know even less,” Shouto shrugs, his arms folded across his chest. “You don’t have to say yes now or even agree, but I like you a lot. I want to pursue a relationship with you, and I assumed that this would be a good starting ground especially if you need it.”

Your tongue sweeps across your lips, unable to come up with a single rationale thing to say.

“I don’t need an answer right now; indulge me, though,” Shouto smiles softly, his gaze dropping for a moment. “Take as much time as you need. We can do a single scene to test it out, and if it doesn’t work out, no hard feelings. Let me know when you’re interested in it, though.”

You can’t say anything; you can only numbly nod as Shouto smiles at you once again.

“Let me know.”

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Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [received Today 23:44]

Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [seen 7 Days Ago 23:44]

You: ↳ Send your points, we can see if we’re compatible. [seen now]

Todoroki S.: ↳ I enjoyed the scene we did today; I hope you did too. I’m interested in making this a real thing if you are too. [received Today 20:44]

You: ↳ I did, too, actually, lol. Um, thank you, first of all! We can work on the contract now. [received Today 20:48]

Todoroki S.: ↳ Okay. I’ve already made the first draft of one; if you’d like to look it over, let me know what you think, and we can edit some things around. [seen now]

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It has been two months since the contract was signed.

Two months.

Two months of Shouto practically living in your apartment with you, a once stranger seeing you at your most vulnerable. He was a steady hand on your back as you slipped into your desired little space, a constant warmth at your side as you went about your day at home.

It had been weird at first; your anxiety still wouldn’t let up, nearly convincing you many times that this was all but a prank. That Shouto would pull away from you when you least expected it and would expose you to the world. There had been many times where he would hold you on his lap, his arms warm around your back, your favorite stuffed animal sitting on your lap as he promised you that you were wrong.

“Daddy is here to protect you, sunshine,” Shouto murmured in your ear, his warm lips pressing to the small behind your ear. “Daddy would never do that to my baby girl. That wouldn’t make me happy.”

“I-It wouldn’t?” you sniffled, your nose face nuzzling further into his neck as your sobs had finally stopped.

“No, not at all, sunshine,” Shouto smiled against the crown of your head. You felt his lips press a soft kiss there, his warm hands stroking up and down your back. “Do you remember what makes Daddy happy?”

You blink, your wet eyelashes heavy and sticking together as you peer at his jaw as if it could possibly tell you.

“I can’t… I can’t remember, sorry, Daddy,” you sniffle again, suddenly terrified that he would be upset with you. You were such a terrible baby girl.

“What makes Daddy happy is seeing his baby girl smiling, happy, protected, and safe,” Shouto easily relays, pulling you away from his shoulder, his calloused fingers rubbing the tear streaks that still stain down your face. “I promise that I will never do anything to cause you harm, sunshine. I only want you to be happy; you being happy makes me happy like nothing before.”

There’s no stopping the way your bottom lip trembles with the pleasant weight of his words, the way it warms you from your belly and curls to your toes.

“Pinky promise?” you whimper, somehow out of breath.

Shouto looks at your curved pinky that is extended out for him to hold, to seal the other half of a promise he has no intentions of ever breaking.

Smiling softly, Shouto wraps his pinky with yours and twists it gently, locking the promise.

“Pinky promise,” he affirms, placing a kiss to your knuckles.

He was so good to you.

So sweet, gentle, patient, and kind.

He tended to spend the night Mondays through Fridays, giving you the weekend to be on your own. He only ever slept in your bed with your given consent (which was every single time), and there was just something about wearing the silver chained choker on your neck that he bought for you. Dainty and cute, nothing too crazy to draw overwhelming attention.

It had a tiny cherry blossom that was engraved with Shouto on the back.

It was a constant and calming reminder of what you had during the day.

The arrangement was going better than you had assumed it was going to be.

Shouto made for an excellent daddy, but there was one grievance you had. With two months of extreme kinship, so many nights of being curled into his side, getting near-daily cuddles for following his orders perfectly, and a few spanks because you were careless even after he warned you — you had assumed that the sexual part of the dynamic would come out.

You had okayed for him to be able to fuck you, regardless of whether or not you were in little space! You reached your little space more often than not around him because he was so well, but now you were bordering desperation. You wanted your daddy to please you more, to give you the reward you wanted most: his cock.

“I’m home, bunny,” Shouto called out, his voice hinting exhaustion but mostly satisfaction at being home again.

Per your rules and regulations, greeting Shouto with a cheerful ‘welcome home, daddy!’ when he arrived home was a must. It was a clear indicator that not only were you home but that you wished to indulge in the dynamic for the rest of the day.

But you sat at the coffee table wearing an unapproved, not chosen outfit for home.

You were wearing an off-the-shoulder white cotton shirt that was big and soft, pink lace shorts that barely covered your ass but was hemmed with lace and pretty frill. You had thigh highs on as well that were the same pink as your shorts. There was a pacifier in your mouth, your gaze focused on the Disney coloring book in front of you as you colored in Sleeping Beauty.

You turned your head, eyes looking at your daddy with a vague look of disinterest before turning back to your coloring.

“I said ‘I’m home,’ bunny,” Shouto restated, giving you the benefit of the doubt of whether or not you heard him. Typically you were excited to have him home, going to his side immediately and asking a million questions as to what he had been doing and why he was home so late.

“Hmph,” was your response as you placed a sticker onto the coloring page.

Shouto’s eyebrows furrowed; he toed off his shoes and began walking towards you, assessing what was happening.

“Is my bunny mad that I was a bit later than I had promised?” he asked, sitting on the couch behind you, his fingers brushing across your clothes as if he was trying to remember if he had selected this outfit. But the sudden touch that you were craving in a way like no other made your head spin just so, and you resisted the motion of caving.

You wanted to be a brat! Your daddy should be taking care of all your needs! He promised he would be taking care of you better than you took care of yourself! He should know when you wanted his cock!

“Hmph!” you hrmph again, and you lean out of his touch even though you craved it.

Although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the slow, calculating blink Shouto took at this action. There’s a moment of silence before the couch sounds under his shifting weight. You freeze at the feeling of his warm palm on your spine, a whisper of danger. It feels partially like a threat, a reminder of impending consequences.

“What did daddy say about bunny using her words?” Shouto asks, his voice stern, low, commanding.

It should scare you, but the threat in his voice makes your heart stammer and your cunt wet. So, instead of doing what’s right, you stand up, ignoring him yet again as you stick your nose up to the ceiling and try to walk away.

Well, you try to, that is.

Before you can go too far, Shouto’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist, keeping you in place.

“You know I don’t like it when you don’t speak, right?” Shouto asks, his eyes digging into your cheek as you refuse to look at him. Yet another rule he has in place. You had to look at him when he spoke to you or when you spoke to him. It was to help make sure that you behaved properly in public — to make you the best baby girl ever. “Use your words and look at me, princess.”

The word princess rolled off his tongue, and you bit down on your tongue to keep the breathy moan from expelling from your lips. He typically only used princess when you were on the verge of genuinely displeasing him, when he was warning you one last time before a punishment was given. Your daddy was two months without jacking off, exhausted from work, and now dealing with you, his bratty baby girl. There was no way this wasn’t going to end with him forcing you to suck him off or to use you as an onahole (something you had said was okay unless you used your safeword, of course).

You shook in his hold, teeth biting your lip as you stared at the wall, refusing to heed his command.

“I’ll give you to the count of three to look at me and address me,” Shouto says, his thumb stroking the innard of your wrist. “One.”

There was no way you would cave.

“Two.”

The silence between the two of you was heavy.

“One.”

Excitement shot through you at the thought of him finally fucking you into your mattress.

“No dessert tonight,” is what Shouto said instead, and you froze.

You whipped your head towards Shouto, fury, and humiliation painting your face as your jaw drops, the pacifier falling onto the floor.

“No!”

“No?” Shouto repeats, his eyes narrowed, unhappy with the challenge. “Do you want me to take away your video games too?”

“No!” you shriek, hands clawing at your face because this was not going the way it was going. “I want my dessert and my video games!”

“Too bad, princess,” Shouto states sternly, unaffected by your growing tantrum. “You lost them both for tonight.”

“No! Give them back! I haven’t done anything wrong, daddy!” you scream, throwing your arms in your hysterics as Shouto stands up to his full height, looming over you without a single issue. Tears prick at the back of your eyes because you’ve messed up somehow; your daddy doesn’t want you — doesn’t love you the way you love him.

“You’ve been misbehaving this entire time I’ve come back home,” Shouto retorts, his other hand grabbing your wrist and managing to place them both close to his chest, limiting your thrashing actions. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the new outfit.”

“I don’t want those punishments, daddy! I don’t want t-them,” you wheeze, your eyes locked on your hands that are bound so tightly in his hands, and you whimper loudly. “You’re hurting me, daddy!”

“And you’re trying to hurt me,” Shouto calmly points out. “I can’t have you doing that, so I’ll hold onto you until you calm down enough. I’m doing this because I care for my little brat.”

“You don’t care! You don’t c-care!” you sob finally, unable to keep the hot tears from your eyes. “Daddy doesn’t care about me!”

The effect is evident and instant.

Shouto’s grip on your wrist lessens altogether, and your pounding fists finally connect with his chest as you collapse against him.

“Daddy doesn’t c-care…”

“That’s not true,” Shouto breathes easily, his fingers brushing against your sides before his arms wrap around you. “I care so much for you, baby. What’s wrong? Tell me what I can do to make things better.”

A loud sniffle emits from you, and you fist your hands in his shirt, your head shaking.

“It’s been two months, and daddy won’t let me have his cummies,” you whisper, terrified that he would reject you. “Am I not good enough? Attractive enough that daddy wants to reward me with his dick?”

There’s a shift in the air.

“My little doll wants her daddy’s cock, is that what?” Shouto murmured against the top of your head. “My precious, innocent baby girl wants something filthy like that.”

“Mmn,” was all you could manage, your face burning at the implications, the suggestion in his voice.

“And instead of using her words, as we practice, she decided to act like a little brat to get her way,” Shouto’s voice is low, raspy, and deep. Its tenor is just right that it makes the room instantly hotter, your body brimming with excited energy. “I think… my beautiful doll has broken too many rules for me to just give her a good reward. She deserves to be my little doll as punishment for now. I thought she was grown enough to ask for things she wanted.”

You gasp as Shouto’s warm, calloused hands drop down to the minimally exposed flesh between your booty shorts and your thigh highs. It sends an entire wave of goosebumps down your skin, and you shudder as they rise upwards, slipping under your shirt and resting on the soft skin of your stomach.

“Your punishment will be what daddy wants it to be, doll,” Shouto states, his fingernails brushing over your clothed nipples, and you mewl at the touch. “You’ve given up your right to speak right now, and because daddy can’t trust you to not be a brat, you will suck daddy’s dick until I see it fit. You will stand on your knees like the beautiful doll daddy knows you can be. Silent, obedient, and so beautiful.”

The words are a goldmine you’ve wanted to hear this entire time, but you’re upset — rightfully upset — that it took your daddy so long to figure it out! He needed you to spell it out for him to act on it!

“I don’t like sucking dicks!” you complain, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “That’s yucky!”

Shouto raised an eyebrow at that, his eyes flashing dangerously as he absorbed the implications of your actions. He knew he was going to earn this just as much as you were.

“Excuse me?” Shouto says calmly, a single eyebrow arched. “Do you want to repeat that?”

“You heard m-me,” you stammer, trying to remain steady under his steady stare. “If daddy couldn’t catch that, maybe I should be the one giving out the punishments.”

A hot, predatory smirk pulls across his face as his grip on your wrist tightens, and he yanks you just slightly closer towards him.

“Oh really?” he chuckles so coldly you shiver. “So you think you’re in charge here?”

You nod slowly, your pupils wide and blown. Your eyes were transfixed on his mouth, his pretty plump lips practically calling your name.

His tongue swipes across his front teeth, and you watch him in awe, horror, and damning horny anticipation as he sits back on the couch and takes you down with him. You struggle for a bit, terrified as you feel unbalanced, ready to tumble to the floor. But your stomach is pressed heavily against his knees, pleasurable discomfort spreading through your body as you recognize this easy, beautiful spanking position.

“I’m going to give you ten spanks,” Shouto announces, his hand rubbing smooth circles over your soft shorts. “You will count every one of them and thank me for each one. If you mess up, if you misbehave, you will get more until you do as I demand.”

You struggle against his hold, thrashing and twisting as his fingers push the shorts higher up your ass, exposing your flesh to him. But as he did so, you remember that you’re not wearing panties, and Shouto sees that too.

“Mm, you’re not wearing panties,” Shouto says, his voice trying to keep the undying want and lust from bleeding through his tone. “My precious doll is that desperate she couldn’t fully dress herself?”

“I can d-dress— aahhh!!!!”

Your interjection was interrupted by the sharp, well-practiced spank that Shouto delivered to your round ass. You arched against his lap, your skin tingling and feeling pathetically good.

“I said you were my doll right now, and dolls don’t speak unless given permission to,” Shouto clipped, his hand circling your now tender flesh. “You didn’t count, so let's try again.”

SLAP.

“Oh my god!” you shriek at the contact, your head spinning at the craved touch. It wasn’t like his typical spanks, the ones that came down not to hurt but to remind you, to correct you to be better. These stung with power, reminding you that you were getting what you craved, and you felt your toes curl and your cunt beginning to seep with the knowledge.

Fuck, you wanted this.

THWACK.

“Again.”

THWACK.

“Daddy can spank your pretty little ass all day, doll. Do as you’re told if you want daddy’s cock.”

SPANK.

“O-One, thank you, daddy!”

WHACK!

You threw your head back at the sensation, your eyes crossing and your hips bucking backward as you shriek with pleasure. You don’t count, your head swimming with unfound energy, and Shouto tsks.

“You’re so terrible at following directions, aren’t you?” Shouto asks, his mouth hovering by your ear, and you nearly melt when his teeth tug at your cartilage at the same time he serves another heated spank to your perky ass. “Such a dirty brat, getting off on her punishments. But let me tell you, if you don’t start following what I instruct of you, I’ll fuck your mouth and leave you without any cummies.”

You gasp loudly, sobbing as he delivers yet another solid spank for your undoubtedly bruising ass. And so, with a pathetic, desperate nod, you agree.

You count to ten, thanking him each time with a beautiful sob that makes the bulge in his pants obvious to you. Your lips are swollen, bruised, and sheen with saliva from holding back your louder sobs. Your ass seems to be imprinted with the shape of his hand against your skin, and you tumble off his lap at the final thank you.

There’s slick gathered on your shorts, soaking through the pretty pink fabric turning it dark.

“I forget that my beautiful baby girl is a masochist,” Shouto sighs as he stands up in front of you. You gasp on the floor, your head swimming with the building heat between your legs, and you hear an all too familiar, always exciting, sound of a belt being undone followed quickly by a zipper and rustling fabric.

“God, you’re so wonderful, doll,” Shouto sighs as he pulls out his hardening cock to where you’re already on your knees with wide, curious, hopeful eyes. “Already on your knees, ready to choke on daddy’s cock even though this is a punishment.”

You can barely register his words, your eyes focused and fascinated — scared almost — of the cock Shouto has. It’s fucking huge, and it’s thick, slightly curved upward with a pretty flushed tip and bulging veins. You were sure if you could even manage to take more than a few inches in!

“I think I remember something about how you don’t like deep throating,” Shouto hums contemplatively. You freeze, your heart stopping for just a moment at what he’s implying. “Well, it’s a good thing this is a punishment.”

His fingers press into your mouth, making you choke, and with your lips spread wide, mouth open for taking, Shouto guides his cock into your parted lips with a dangerous moan.

There's an immediate ache in your jaw, the size, and girth of his cock overwhelming you without so much doubt. You gag immediately at the weight of it pressing on your tongue, filling your mouth. Heat hammers in your cunt, and you heave against him.

Shouto sighs as if he was in heaven, his hands grabbing the back of your head and slamming your head as far down his cock. So far that your nose brushed against the skin of his stomach, before pressing against it completely.

Shouto moans louder than your panicked gags and chokes, his hips swirling and twisting as he looks down at you with lovesick eyes. “You’re so good at this,” Shouto praises, his fingers wiping away the tears that prick at your eyes. “So good. Daddy’s so pleased with you, taking my cock so well. So beautiful even when you cry on my dick.”

Your throat spasms around his cock, your lungs burning severely from the lack of oxygen. Not a single part of your body able to relax as you desperately sought to breathe. It hurt, but it felt so good. Saliva began to pool from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin and drooling on your clothed breasts.

Shouto took notice and hummed contently.

“Daddy’s going to count to the number ten,” he informed you, rolling his hips further into your mouth, shoving his cock even further down your throat than you thought possible. “If you can keep your pretty nose pressed to daddy’s stomach the entire time, daddy promises you he will give you the best orgasm you’ve ever received.”

You made a squeaking noise around his cock, your fingers that were buried into his shirt gripping tighter as he suddenly lets go of your head.

“One.”

Resisting the urge to pull off him completely was a near-losing battle.

“Two.”

Your body shook with intensity, the scorching need to properly breathe slamming down on you.

“Three… four…”

Shouto’s hands began to pet your head, soothing the worried lines on your face, brushing away your tears.

“Five… six… fuck, you’re so gorgeous, baby girl.”

You whimper around his cock, and Shouto moans liquid gold in return. He smiles deviously, fingers brushing down your throat.

“Seven… eight…” you choke loudly when his fingers press against your throat, tightening your already spasming throat around his cock, furthering the burning sensation all throughout your body. “Nine…”

You look at him with pleading eyes, wordlessly begging for mercy, for something as he pauses for more than a second between nine and ten. His hips lazily jerk into your mouth, his free hand combing his hair back, messily styling it as he smirks. Your saliva was dripping uncontrollably now, pooling at the back of your throat, on your tongue, past your lips. Shouto sighs, his eyes bright with power, with the knowledge that you were so obedient.

“Ten.”

Immediately, you collapse from his cock. Saliva and pre-cum connecting your coughing mouth to his hard dick still. Your lungs ache, and your breathing is frantic as you try to regain a sense of composure. Your tears meaning nothing so long as the inferno between your thighs is tamed.

“You did so well, baby girl,” Shouto praises, and despite the pain in your lungs, you puff up at the praise. “You did exactly what daddy asked for you, so daddy believes you deserve a reward. Do you agree?”

Unable to speak, your belly tight and warm, and your throat aching slightly, you nod eagerly.

“Use your words, angel,” Shouto coos; he steps out of his pants before squatting before you, his fingers grazing your chin. “Daddy loves it when he hears you speaking.”

“I would love a r-reward, daddy,” you whimper softly.

Your eyes swim with want, with inexplicable needs and desires. Shouto softens when he notices you nosing into his palms; he brushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“Look at how politely you asked that,” Shouto praises, kissing you softly on the corner of your mouth. “Daddy’s so proud of you, sweetheart.”

You keen some more, your wet eyelashes batting in your excitement and undying love for him.

“Now, daddy wants you to go to your room and take off all the clothes you want. Once you’re ready, I want you to call me in, and then daddy will take excellent care of you, okay?” Shouto commands you, his lips pressing softly onto your cheeks, eyelids, and finally softly onto your lips.

You gasp loudly at the touch, your eyes wide but looking incredibly drunk at the touch.

“Okay!” you giggle, pressing forward and taking his lips into another kiss.

He hums before assisting you to your feet, and you breathlessly laugh as you turn around and skip away towards your room.

Your room is neat, as is required of Shouto. Your bed is neatly organized; there’s nothing on the floor or on your chair. Everything is put away correctly and cleanly. Grinning, you take off your shirt followed by your bra, shimming off your shorts, you toss away your clothes into your hamper, leaving only your socks on.

Hopping onto your bed, you grab a stuffed animal before turning to face the door and sing.

“Daddy, I’m ready!!!”

You squeal after saying that, excitedly staring at the closed door, eagerly anticipating the way Shouto would walk in. Your eyelashes flutter when you see the doorknob twist and in comes Shouto, who, unlike you, is completely naked.

Now you knew he was fit, even with your mind beginning to sink into your little space, you knew that Shouto was a handsome, fine man. He was built, muscular, and toned. He was tall, his head nearly hitting the top of the door if it wasn’t for the fact he was leaning against the doorframe. There is a slight smile on his face that screams of his pride, his joy of seeing you like this. And his eyes rake like hot coals against your body.

You shudder.

“Aren’t you cute,” Shouto murmurs, pride evident in his tone. He walks towards you, tongue slipping between his lips as he reaches the foot of the bed. “Such a beautiful princess, but now… what does princess need?”

“I need my daddy to take care of me,” you whisper, eyes hooded and mouth turning dry as he begins leaning onto the bed. “I want my daddy.”

“Such a dirty girl,” Shouto says with a chuckle as you begin to lean back onto your bed, your legs spreading for him. “Such a dirty, gorgeous girl.”

Your breathing stutters as the bed moves under his weight, and you’re practically panting as you watch his body slowly crawl over yours. Shouto looks down at you, his eyes deceivingly bright even with the shadows, and your eyes flutter as he leans down.

You’re expecting a kiss, craving the feeling of his smooth, plump lips on yours. But you gasp in shock, betrayal, and in lust when his lips press against your earlobe. He trails his kisses everywhere, kissing every inch, every centimeter of your face, but never once your lips.

“Daddy, stop teasing!!” you whine loudly, feet kicking on the mattress and hands burying into his hair.

“I’m not teasing you,” Shouto objects, but the grin on his face says otherwise. “Why do you think I’m teasing you? What do you want?”

“I want daddy’s kisses! Give me your kisses!” you cry with a pout.

With a burst of cheerful laughter that warms your heart and makes your belly flip, Shouto presses downward, capturing your lips with his. The contact is blissful, everything and more that you need. You eagerly kiss him back, making noises that are both sinful and so blessedly innocent as your arms wrap around his neck.

Shouto kisses you back with matching intensity, one elbow resting by your head, the other resting on your hip as he allows your tongue to press into his mouth. He lets you greedily take what you want, his thumb on your hip drawing nonsensical pictures. But as you shudder against him, completely overwhelmed by this all. Shouto probes his tongue into your mouth, gliding his wet, hot muscle against the roof of your mouth and the back of your teeth until your panting, unable to do anything but absorb him.

“So pretty, so cute when you’re like this. A beautiful doll for her daddy,” Shouto whispers into your mouth, and you can only moan in response.

“I need daddy,” you speak, your glazed eyes unable to even look at Shouto. “I need daddy so bad.”

“Where does my princess need me?” Shouto speaks, his lips trailing down your slick chin and neck. “Right here?” he asks, sinking his teeth onto your neck and sucking softly.

“A-Aahhh~,” you shudder, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to place hickey after hickey on your neck, your collarbones, and the spot right behind your ear that makes you melt. “Yes, I need you everywhere… I need daddy’s mouth and cummies in me.”

“Your boobs are so cute, baby girl,” Shouto whispers, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you notice that he’s nosing against your breasts. “So pretty, better than anything I could have hoped for.”

You whine loudly, your body arching off the bed as his hot tongue dips out and licks a pebbled nipple. You pant as he licks again, your fingers burying into his hair.

“Such beautiful nipples, you make your daddy so happy,” Shouto praises, and you gasp loudly as his mouth envelopes your nipple. Your cunt throbs with intriguing want, your socked feet traveling up the line of his leg as his teeth graze and move your nipple in his mouth. “You make me the proudest daddy ever.”

His fingers card down your stomach, trailing and lingering around your cunt, and yet never once touching it. It’s tactical, teasing, and mind spinning. Your clit spasms with needed attention, angry with the teasing, desperate for contact — for attention. You make a noise, something not quite human, unable to pull yourself from your growing fuzzy head as Shouto moves from one nipple to the next.

Shouto chuckles, his eyes of blue and grey flashing up at you dangerously, knowingly.

“Don’t tease me, daddy,” you whisper, hips circling, thrusting into the air where you wish his fingers were.

“Okay,” he promises, and as if he could read your thoughts, his teeth gently bit down on your untouched yet demanding nipple. Your head slams against the mattress, your chest once again feeling alive as if you had been electrocuted. He sucks your nipple, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh, warm tongue, and spit sinking into your nerves. His fingers taking care of your lonesome nipple, keeping it company with gentle, purposeful rolls as he has you sobbing his name. And when you thought the teasing couldn’t get worse, his fingers finally land where you want it most.

On your clit.

“You’re perfect, angel; I love you so much.”

It happens then, like a warm blanket being placed over you — comforting, warm, making the pain in your body hum with only pleasure, and your body trembles with peaking need.

“I wanna… I wanna do more,” you coo, eyes heavy and feigning intoxication as you look up at your daddy. “I wanna please my daddy!”

Your daddy blinks at you, head tilting before a knowing look flashes across his eyes, and he smiles softly, fingers abandoning their spots to press gently against your cheeks. You don’t even mind, so excited and happy that he’s holding you.

“What do you want, sunshine?”

“Can I please suck daddy’s nipples?” you ask with a hopeful face, “He made me feel so good, and I — I wanna make my daddy feel good too!”

“You wanna suck daddy’s nipples? Okay.”

You giggle loudly as the world spins, and you gasp when you’re suddenly sitting straight up, your wet cunt pressing against his hip bone. You laugh lightly, a bell-like giggle, and your hands press to his chest. “That was so fun!”

“Was it—?”

Your daddy can’t finish his sentence because you caught sight of his dusty brown nipples and launched forward, capturing the soft tissue in your mouth.

It tastes like your daddy, the salt and unique taste he has. And your tongue lashes at it, your cheeks hollowing as you suck at it some more. It hardens in your mouth, a sensation that has you breaking away from him with a beautiful gasp.

“Am I doing a good job?!” you ask, looking at the pretty pink flush on your daddy’s face as he heaves slightly, flustered and a bit out of breath. “My nipples do that when you do a job, daddy!”

“You’re doing so well,” your daddy informs you, and you laugh excitedly. “Do you want… do you want daddy’s cock now?”

“Daddy’s cock?” you question, heat rushing to your face at the naughty word. “W-What does that mean?”

“Daddy’s cock is how I can make you feel good,” daddy explains, his fingers trailing up and down your thighs, playing with the hem of your socks.

You giggle as he snaps at it playfully.

“You’ve been doing such a good job, sunshine, and daddy’s cock hurts and wants to be in you.”

“In me?”

“Mmhm, and when it’s in you, you can get daddy’s cummies,” daddy smiles softly. “You want daddy’s cummies, remember?”

You think about it, unsure if you had wanted it, but then you remember that you had said it.

“Will daddy’s cummies help me? My stomach feels funny, a-and I feel wet.”

Daddy nods fast, his body shifting so that he’s in a sitting position and your wet chest presses against him. It’s a sensation you’re unfamiliar with, and you make an embarrassing squeaking noise at the feeling.

“I promise it’ll make you feel better, sunshine.”

You think about it some more, your arms wrapping around his neck as you think. But soon enough, you find yourself giggling and nodding, “I trust my daddy!”

“I’m so glad you do. Daddy’s so glad his baby girl trusts him.”

And the next thing you know, you’re back on your back, and your daddy looms over you, spreading your legs wide apart. You look down at gasp at the sight of daddy’s cock.

“It’s so big!” you shriek, “Where is that going, daddy?!”

“This is going right… there,” daddy emphasizes, pressing two fingers into a part of your body that has you speechless. It’s an intrusion you’re almost unfamiliar with, and yet it makes your head spin and your body hot with need and action from him. “I promise it’ll feel so good; I’ll make you feel so good.”

“O-Okay,” you whimper, watching your daddy pull something against the length of his cock before pressing the swollen head to the entrance that made you feel funny in a good way. “I’m ready, daddy.”

“I’m so glad,” your daddy smiles, and with a gentle kiss to your temple, he presses his cock into you.

“DADDY!” you shriek as his cock pressed into you, filling you out and stretching you out completely. The sensation is overwhelming, piercing pleasure slamming through your body as your arms and legs wrap around him in a vice-like grip.

Daddy’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in close as his hips begin rutting in and out of you. The sensation, the rhythm, is constant and is intoxicating. The creak of the mattress and the loud, grateful cries of your mouth into the crook of his neck fills the room. And then he shifts you just a bit, his hips able to thrust further, more profound, into you, and a wanton, nearly voluptuous noise escapes your mouth.

“Kiss me, daddy!” you cry, head thrusting back into the mattress, pleasure saturating so deep in your brain you can’t think anymore. “Kiss me, please! Kiss me, kiss me, kissmekissmekiss—”

His mouth is over yours, hot pants and wrecked breathing is passed between open parted lips. Your tongue pushes against his teeth, unable to find his tongue as your hips swirl and thrust up into his thrust cock. Every thrust sends daddy’s cock deeper into your pulling, demanding cunt, stretching you out, sending you further out in an unimaginable way. Your walls spasm uncontrollably, clenching and tightening without a single input.

But soon, daddy’s shifting up onto his knees, and you can only wildly cry out for him when his arms shift from keeping you close to pressing behind your knees and shoving your knees into the mattress by your shoulders. The most primal, deranged moan rips from your mouth as the stretch sends his cock to a place in your cunt you never could imagine existing. You shake like a child against him, fingers scraping at his back, tearing his skin as your heels dig into his back. The head of his cock buries and brushes against your cervix, making you cry and see colors you’ve never seen before in your life. Your praises for your daddy are endless, and his powerful pounding sends the headboard of your bed crashing against the wall harder and harder.

“How are you feeling, bunny?” Daddy grunts, his face contorted with pleasure and the need to look at you. “Do you feel my cock in you? Can you feel daddy’s cock hitting your cervix?”

“D-Daddy, I-I — ohhh my god!” you sob, your hips pathetically rutting up and down against his cock, stupidly furthering how deep his cock can go, your cervix melting with pleasure, making you oh so dizzy. You can only blabber. “Daddy’s cock is so big, it’s so good! It’s making my stomach feel so funny! I’m so scared!”

“Don’t be scared,” your daddy pleads against your neck, though his speed and strength doesn’t lessen. “Your stomach feeling funny is a good thing; it’s supposed to happen! I promise you, this is how it's supposed to happen. Okay?”

“Okay, daddy, okay, okay, okay,” your voice lessened to a senseless babble. Your sentences blurring together, and your cheek pressed into the mattress, and drool pooled from your lips.

His pace is completely irreplicable now; every maddening powerful thrust of his hips sends the headboard into the wall. The wet slapping echoing throughout the room when he pierces into you almost drowned out both of your senseless cries.

It almost scared you, the sensation foreign, but his gentle reminder that this was normal, that you would be okay, kept you from spiraling. Slick erupts in your cunt, an overwhelming heat that throbs right in your core, coating your thighs and your stomach, and with every slam of his hips, it grows only more.

Intensifying.

Exhilarating.

The temperature of your body sizzles off you in immense heat. His lips press against yours, a maddening escape of lust and need exchanging between your parted lips. Your saliva is everywhere, covering both of your faces — connecting them even when you part. But that didn’t stop him; it only fueled him to kiss you entirely, wordlessly praising you, engulfing you with his mouth, daring you with his tongue.

You were barely keeping up with his snapping hips, your mouth begging for more when he suckled on your tongue.

“It’s feeling so funny!” you suddenly cry as your daddy’s fingers pinch and rub against something between your legs that sends electric waves throughout every nerve in your body. “I feel like Imma pee, daddy! I can’t stop it! I can’t stop!”

“It’s okay, let it happen,” your daddy grunts into your ear, and with that, the calming steady of his voice, you let the heat, the tightness in your stomach you feel like is piss, slam through you.

A tingling, white noise power sensation slams through your entire body. You arch into your daddy, your scream dying on your tongue as your body thumps with a full-body heartbeat. It sends your toes curling, your fingernails scarring his back, and a pathetic, pleasure-derived sob released into your daddy’s sweaty neck.

His thrusting keeps up for a bit, letting your clenching and relaxing cunt finish him until his thrusts border sloppy, and with a final thrust that has your fingers trembling, he stops, collapsing onto you.

You don’t know what happens next, only that for one moment too long, it’s silent with only heaving breathing and incredibly warm body heat. Your eyes close, and you’re out before you even know it.

You open your eyes to a dark room.

Shouto is next to you, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he holds a wet, warm cloth to your body, gently cleaning you up.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, your voice scratchy and nearly blown. “Did I drop and pass out after cumming?”

Shouto jumped at your voice, looking up at your face with a tired but satisfied grin, “You did.”

You laugh softly, not quite humorlessly, not entirely because you were amused. You sit up, groaning at how your lower body screams in pain; well, it seemed that your drop really did hide any pain.

“That was fun,” you grin, eyes closing as Shouto presses the cloth to your neck, cleaning the sweat and saliva there. “Glad I decided to speak up on that — ow!”

You pouted as Shouto retreated his pinching fingers from your ribcage.

“You didn’t speak up; you acted out and then spoke up,” Shouto chuckled, sighing as he leaned backward, allowing for you to stretch your tired limbs.

“I still managed to say my truth,” you grin, taking the wet cloth from his hands and focusing on his body. Shouto sat there, still and silent, as you gingerly cleaned… everything off him.

“Well, if we’re saying our truths, can I ask something?” Shouto murmurs, so unlike his typical confident demur. You pause for a moment before nodding, continuing to clean the broken skin on his body. “Would you like to be my girlfriend? I-I know this is cheesy and all, but I feel like I want you outside of our arrangement, outside of the dynamic.”

You can’t help but laugh, making Shouto look panicked, even if for a bit.

“I thought I was the only one.”

“Sero, psst, Sero!” Mina whispers loudly, hitting her friend in the back of the head with an eraser.

“Shit, what?” Sero hisses, a slight annoyance in his face from being hit.

“Look!”

Sero follows Mina’s pointed finger over where you and Shouto sat, in the middle of your own world despite it being smack in the middle of the lecture. He scanned your bodies more intensely and froze at the sight of purple and red bruises on both your necks.

“Is that—?!”

“YES!!!”

“HOLY SHIT! WE CALLED IT!”

“Sero!” boomed the voice of Aizawa, their scariest professor ever. “Is there something you would like to share with the class?”

Sero freezes, an awkward smile blooming on his face as he shrugs, “I’m just noticing some hickies today, that’s all!”

There could have been no casualties in this admittance; after all, Aizawa didn’t give two shits about hickies on university students. But the loud, panicked “shit!” coming from you was undoubtedly damning.

Shouto snickered, his fingers tugging at the collar of your shirt as his fingers brushed against the collection of bruises, “I think they look nice.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

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