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scaramouche-bully · 3 years

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+ 1 other. Apologies, I accidently deleted another anon’s ask.

— ☆ Overstimulation headcanons

Includes: Ningguang and Zhongli.

[ Sub ] Gender-neutral reader

Contains: Overstimulation, exhibition, vibrators, dacryphilia, coming untouched, multiple orgasms, humiliation, sub space, cock-warming, size difference + size kink

— ☆ Overstimulation headcanons - Xiao, Childe, and Scaramouche 🐏 [ GN ]

— ☆ Overstimulation headcanons - Kaeya and Venti 🐑 [ GN ]

— ☆ Overstimulation headcanons - Kaeya and Venti

[ masterlist ]

I’m not sure if you all wanted the same characters or not but I wanted to include others so everyone has some food. I have a lot of bratty sub requests lined up so I hope it’s alright that I didn’t write one this time. I kind of want to dedicate an entire fic to exhibition after writing this but this is a busy week for me.

— ☆ Ningguang

Ningguang is a very busy woman so she can’t spend all her time to pleasuring you. However, she does immensely enjoy putting you in humiliating situations where you’re forced to sit there and take it.

Her favourite activity is softly kissing you, sending you into a sense of warm comfort, as she gently fingers you open. The cute whines you make? It makes her want to cancel her plans and fuck you over the table but she holds her self-restraint in.

Just when you’re about to cum, her hands are gone and she’s teasingly toying a vibrator around your walls. Before forcefully shoving it into your hole until it’s nestled right against your walls.

As you whine at how mean she’s being, she offers one last kiss before she’s rearranging your clothes until you look decent and returning to her seat. The meeting is about to begin.

It’s only been a couple minutes into the meeting and you can feel the faint buzzing of the vibrator that’s rubbing against your sensitive spots. But there are so many people around you, important people, that you have to hold it. You’re biting your lips raw, to the point you can almost taste blood, as you try and appear professional. What would happen if someone noticed? You’re heating up in embarrassment but the idea of getting caught makes you feel so hot. Under the table you’re squeezing your legs together so tightly, clutching around the vibrator as some sort of stabilization even when it’s pressed right against your spot. Your toes curl as your legs raise a tiny bit above the floor as your legs strain and you try to not cum in front of so many people.

“mmph- ahh...N-Ning..” you quietly plead with her but it only seems to increased the intensity of the vibrations. You quickly duck your head down and cover your mouth as you openly pant into your hand, scooting a bit closer to the edge of the table so no one beside you could see what you were doing, as you dip your hands onto the edge of your pants. Just a little relief, just something to distract your mind from the pleasure. Before you can dip your fingers into your waistband, you feel a sharp gaze on you. That’s your only warning before the vibrator is set to max as your sputter and try to control your voice. This is complete torture as you desperately try to muffle your moans with your hand.

“I-I can’t..p-please..ah!” you gasp but it’s too late. You’re digging your nails into the chair as you cum. Your pants are completely soaked as your leg’s twitch and spasm. You can vaguely hear someone beside you asking if you’re okay or not but you can’t answer right now.

“Excuse them, they accidently pulled their leg and must be feeling the cramps. Poor thing,” Ningguang chuckles as she waves off their concerns. You shakily try to smile at them and they only nod concerned before continuing the meeting. Ningguang was right, everyone beside the Qixing were idiots. While Ningguang has her usual pleasant smile, her eyes are absolutely feral as she fiddles with the remote. Switching from low to high that you never know what to expect. This time you have no warning of when the vibrator is set to max. Your mouth falls open but no sounds come out as your cum all over yourself again. Just to sit there and take it, just as she likes.

— ☆ Zhongli

Zhongli wasn’t aware that it was a kink in the first place but when he watched you try and take his cock, only to end up cumming so much to the point of crying like a baby, it unlocked something deeply primal inside him.

He'll offer small words of false comfort as he gently pets your head like you're a dog. It’s okay if it’s too much for you, it’s okay if only you get to orgasm, and it’s okay if you want to give up.

It only ends up making you cry more and try harder that you end up pushing yourself into sub-drop. He loves it.

He adores the dumb look you get on your face. He can fuck you stupid so fast with such minimal effort that it makes you so embarrassed the morning after.

“Zhongli! S-Stop! I’m- ngh! No-I c-can’t ...ahh!” you squeal, clinging onto him as you cum again. You’re crying into his shoulder as you shake and sob as he holds you to his chest. He never stops his slow thrusts into you even as the overstimulation settles in and your head is lolling back and your eyes grow hazy in pleasure.

“Shh, yes you can. You can and you will. Don’t disappoint me now,” his eyes seem to dilate as he says this. He adjusts his grip on your hips and fucks into you harder. The stuttering babbles that get punched out as he thrust’s his thick cock in and out. You’re drooling all over yourself as your mind fogs up, you can feel yourself reaching your next orgasm already. Zhongli’s cock easily slides into you with all the cum that’s already inside you, the wet slaps that echo in the room, it’s burning you up too fast. His thick cock as it drags against your spots that you feel like you’re going insane.

“Z-Zhongli...” you whine, looking up at him with tearful eyes, “feels...good...hah.”

“Does it now? Weren’t you crying that it was too much a few minutes ago?” he whispers as he makes a quick snap of his hips to sink his entire cock into you. He can feel your walls seize up, your head throw back, before you orgasm and try to push him away. Your knee’s lifting closer to you as your toes curl before becoming boneless and dropping to the bed.

“Noo..more..Zhongli..mm” you couldn’t help the loud whine that left your lips as you feel him rock back into you. You were too sensitive from your previous orgasms but it felt so good. Wave after wave of pleasure even when it was too much. Zhongli laughs under his breath as he watches the conflicting feelings swirl in your head before you eventually drop and let him take over. He leans over as he kisses away your tears but he can’t help that sick pride in his chest seeing you let go of your inhibition's. He’s softly calls to you to come back to him, that you did so well and he’s so proud of you. Your needy hole is sucking his cock back in as he gently tries to ease himself out that he accepts his fate and lets you cockwarm him. Gently turning you over onto your side as he let’s you doze off, warm and content.

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sunder-soul · 3 years

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𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖛𝖊

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

Chapter One: There's just something about those Riddle murders that doesn't quite make sense... Wordcount: 2.3k Content warning: language, allusions to bigotry.

Permanent Taglist: @jujugentle @weirdowithnobeardo @pearlstiare @fromthehellmouth @whoevenfrickenknows @moatsnow @voidmalfoy @lucys-brain @sunles @arana-alpha @tallyovie @expectoscamander @nothinghcppens @itsjustfics @mikariell95 @suicide-sweetheart636 @toasterking

Name: MORFIN GORMLAITH GAUNT

Age: 46

Wand: fir, 10 ¾ inches, dragon heartstring

Residence: Gaunt Estate, Little Hangleton, Yorkshire

Marital status: -

Offense charge: three counts of murder in the primary degree

Date of charged offense: 1st July, 1943

Offense Detail: prisoner entered the residence of the Riddle family (Muggle, IM-00) and inflicting the Killing Curse (UC-001-1717) upon the three members of the Riddle family present; Thomas Riddle (63), Mary Riddle (60), and their son Tom Riddle (37). Use of the Killing Curse has been confirmed by Prior Incantato (see report DMLE-619-1951-BLE, SA: Robert Odgen).

Date of Testimony: 3rd July, 1943

Prisoner plea: guilty

Sentence: Azkaban, 360 years

Date of Sentence: 3rd July, 1943

You frown.

It’s very late, the candle your desk is barely a stub, the little flame hovering nervously on the surface of a broad pool of wax, and you’ve been copying over these stupid reports to the new, tamper-proof parchment forms for seven hours now – but something is extremely odd about these dates.

“McCollin,” you say slowly. “Did you work this case?”

“Hmm?” McCollin doesn’t look up at the desk beside you, head resting heavily on one hand and his spine curled into a perfect and truly concerning C-shape over his own stack of files. He looks close to passing out right there and then, salt-and-pepper hair a little greasy, scruffy five o’clock shadow, eyes bleary and shadowed.

“Gaunt,” you read, “1943. You were working with Odgen then, right?”

He snorts. “Yeah, I remember that nutter.”

“What happened?”

“Guy was from one of those ancient pure-blooded clans, you know, one of the real fanatical ones, inbreeding and liquidated assets and all,” McCollin yawns, dragging his hand down his face and smearing ink across his whiskered cheek. “Hated Muggles like nobody’s business."

“Yeah he killed three Muggles, right?” you peer at the report.

McCollin nods at the form he's copying. “Went off the deep end one day. Walked right up to their house and murdered ‘em. When they brought him in he was ranting and raving about how they’d had it coming for years.”

“He was arrested, charged, and sentenced within three days,” you say slowly.

He finally looks up at you. “So?”

“That’s the fasted processing I’ve ever seen.”

“The guy admitted to it, kiddo,” McCollin says in deadpan, “he had snakes nailed to his door and his family tree was basically a Christmas wreath.”

“Yeah, but… what made he snap?”

He laughs again, shaking his head despondently as he returns to his form. “You got a lot to learn.”

His tone wants to be fond but it just strikes you as patronising, especially considering the amount of times people have said that exact same stupid line to you. It’s like half the bloody department think being Muggle-born makes you incapable of understanding the subtle and unique intricacies of wizarding culture – as if bigotry and supremacists and assholes are exclusive to the magical world. “What?” you say a little too defensively.

“Families like that… guys like that… they’re not right in the head. Hate Muggles just to hate ‘em, reckon they’re all that’s wrong with the world. Honestly it’s a miracle he didn’t do it sooner.”

You look back down at the report, suspicions anything but assuaged. “Yeah,” you say quietly, “it is.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“Did you ever watch Gaunt’s testimony?”

“You’re still going on about that?” McCollin drawls, heaving the towering box of finished files up a bit as he heads for the lifts.

“I looked him up in Records and the memory’s only available with supervisor permission,” you push, following him quickly. “If you signed me off then I could get Owler to –”

He slams the button and stares at the little golden arrow above the elevator grate slowly sliding towards the basement floor. “And why in Merlin’s name do you want to watch the Gaunt trial?”

You slip your hands into the pockets of your purple Ministry robes. “I’m interested.”

“Interested,” he echoes, shooting you a look. “Is that so?”

“He was processed in three days, McCollin. If it was that obvious he was guilty, it must have been one hell of a trial.”

“It was,” he scoffs as the lift dings and the grate grinds to a noisy open. “Fine, but only if you finish Johan’s quota by five.”

The triumph is impossible to keep off your face and McCollin rolls his eyes at your immediate glee. “I’m on it,” you grin, spinning around and racing back to your desk to get started.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“Merlin’s beard,” McCollin mutters, shaking his head at the stack of completed transcripts. “I gotta hold stuff over your head more often.”

“Just sign the slip, McCollin,” you smirk.

He sighs and grabs the quill from your hand, and you hold your breath as he scribbles his initials on the slip. “You’re obsessed,” he drawls.

You seize the slip and round on the lift, heart racing with excitement. “I’m interested.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

The trial is absolutely insane.

Morfin Gaunt looks like a Witch Weekly cartoon caricature of a fanatical blood-purist and he rambles in a manic-edged, ceaseless torrent about how much he enjoyed murdering the Riddles as the Wizengamot mutters and blithers disapprovingly for about three hours – but something catches your attention right near the end. Something you can’t help but ask Owler about the second the memory ends and you’re thrown back into the Records Room.

“Who’s Merope?”

Owler’s sallow face looks about as thrilled at your question as he was at your request for the memory in the first place. “Merope Gaunt,” he says in a flat, nasally voice, waving his wand at the Pensieve and sending the memory swirling back into its phial.

“Merope Gaunt?”

Owler’s thin, anaemic lips downturn even more. “His sister.”

You stare at him. It is not at all what you’d expected. “And why did he call his sister a mud-soused, scumsucking slut?”

“Ask your supervisor.”

“He seemed to be saying he killed those people because of Merope, why on earth would his sister be why he –”

“I keep the records, I don’t conduct the investigations,” Owler interrupts with not inconsiderable disdain. “Now if you could please –”

“Did they bring Merope in for testimony?”

Owler gives your continuing presence a very dirty look. “No.”

“Why not?”

He pushes the door to the Records room open and stares at you.

You try to hold your ground but Owler is unrelenting, and you're forced to step past him with a curt sigh. “Right, well, good afternoon, Owler, thanks for –”

The door slams shut behind you.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“Get what you wanted?” McCollin smirks as you collapse stony-faced into your chair.

“I forgot how impressively unpleasant it is to talk to Owler,” you mutter, resting your head in your hands. “Did you know about Merope?”

“Merope?”

“Yeah, Morfin’s sister.”

“Didn’t know he had one,” McCollin says disinterestedly.

“He was saying some stuff that made it sound like she’s why he killed those Muggles.”

“Uh huh.”

You lift your head, giving him an incredulous look. “He said she’s why he murdered three people, McCollin. How does that not interest you?”

McCollin throws down his quill and sighs sharply. “Look kiddo, the guy’s rotting in Azkaban, he admitted to the murders, they found the curses in his wand, and he had a memory of the whole thing. What exactly are you hoping to achieve here?”

You can barely believe it. “Why isn’t Merope Gaunt mentioned in any of his trial documents?” you say sharply.

“Either she wasn't relevant to the proceedings, or she's dead, or he made her up,” McCollin shrugs, “like I said, the guy went off the deep end.”

“But why doesn’t it say –”

“Just drop it,” he sighs impatiently, “you have work to do, and I won’t have you wasting clocked time on some case from nearly a decade ago.”

“Come on, McCollin, can’t you admit that it’s weird that –”

“I said drop it,” he says sharply, “don’t make me be the big mean supervisor here, you know I hate it.”

You glare at him. “Fine,” you say through gritted teeth.

It’s almost too easy to pull Morfin’s old file from where it’s still sitting in the refuse pile and subtly charm a copy of it that evening.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

Merope Gaunt, as far as you can tell, fucking vanished off the face of the earth in 1925.

There’s nothing, no addresses, no marriage or death notice, no registered Floo connections, no DRC calls for gnomes or doxies or even the odd kappa, not a single trace of her after Morfin and their father Marvolo had a stint in Azkaban for assaulting Bob Odgen back in the 20s.

It seems like the second they were locked up, she scarpered.

You sit back in the Archives Hall and let out a long breath, flipping the folder shut dejectedly. Morfin’s file is a thick wad of anti-Muggle hate crimes rivalled only by his father’s, and closer inspection had revealed that the Gaunt family estate sat a cool twenty minutes' walk from Riddle House where the murders had occurred. If Morfin had lived so close to some of the Muggles he hated so much, he’d been sitting on a clear motive for murder for years.

So why suddenly snap?

What had pushed him over the edge?

Why did he cite Merope in his deranged testimony?

Why talk about her in that way?

Where the hell did she go?

There are endless questions and zero answers. Plus, you kind of get the feeling that if McCollin saw you hunched in the Archives after-hours trying to find those answers, you’d get your pay docked.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

That night, you sit bolt upright in bed with a surge of electric realisation.

Mud-soused… scumsucker…

You’ve heard that language before. You’ve processed about four hundred case files of harassment with that language.

“Idiot,” you breathe, smacking your forehead and falling back onto your pillows with a thump. “Idiot, of course…”

Because that’s the way Pure-blood extremists talk about witches and wizards who've fallen in love with Muggles.

Suddenly, you have a pretty good idea where Merope might have disappeared to the moment her blood-obsessed brother and father were out of the picture, and a pretty good idea of where you might be able to look to find her. Because you’ve been looking in the wrong place.

You’ve been looking for her in the wizarding world.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“I have the craziest news for you,” you grin, slamming a silver Sickle on the counter and taking your seat at the bar.

“You say that twice a month,” Mori grumbles, setting your drink down and sliding the coin into his huge, calloused hand.

“It’s true twice a month.”

“It’s true half as much as you think.”

“I found her.”

Mori’s dark brows raise. It makes his gruff face look slightly less intimidating. “The lady from that old case you're into?”

“Yeah,” you beam, seizing your drink and leaning forward. “Started going through marriage certificates, and –”

“You’re telling me that your big-shot Ministry intern arse has been working this thing for a month and you didn’t even check marriage certificates?”

“Not Muggle ones,” you smirk.

Mori takes a glass off the bar and starts to clean it as he peers at you. “Go on.”

“She married the same guy her brother murdered, Mori,” you breathe, glancing around to make sure none of the shady denizens of Moribund’s are listening – it’s not like the bar's regular patrons are so welcoming to your big-shot Ministry intern arse on the best of days considering you’re half-way down Knockturn Alley in the dead of night. “They fucking ran away together!”

“Well, that explains a lot,” Mori mutters.

“Exactly!”

“What are you going to do about it?”

You shrug, taking a sip of your drink and feeling supremely pleased with yourself.

“What, you spent that much time investigating this thing for no reason?”

“Nah,” you say quietly, lips still in a smile. “I have a feeling there’s more to it than this. I still have to find out what happened to her after they got married and her brother murdered his new in-laws.”

“And what’s this guy’s name again?”

You give him a dry look. “You know I can’t tell you names, Mori, I’m pushing the bounds of my contract telling you this much already.”

He shrugs his massive shoulders, casting a wary look around the dark bar. “If you’re looking for people who might know a thing or two about murderers and Muggle-haters, you’ve come to the right place.”

“I’m here to talk to you, Mori, not the murderers and Muggle-haters.”

“You’re here to drink cheap and rant to someone who won’t rat you out to your boss,” he growls.

You give him another grin. “Cheers to that.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

You find Merope’s name in a record tome of an old church parish almost by accident. There’s barely any information there, just one name on a huge list of those buried in the pauper’s graveyard less than ten blocks from where you’re sat amongst the looming shelves of the Muggle public archives at that exact moment.

But there is something.

It says she died in a place called 'Wool’s Orphanage' on New Year’s Eve in 1926. It’s not hard to guess why she might have been there, and how she probably died.

Merope Gaunt had a child.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

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donutloverxo · 3 years

Text

Messed up

*gif is not mine*

Kinktober day 5 - face sitting

Note - This is a sequel to past self. But can be read as a stand alone as well I think. Dividers by @whimsicalrogers.

Summary - Steve messed up and he's determined to make it upto you.

Warnings - 18+ only please, smut (m/f), daddy kink, age gap.

Pairing - Nomad!Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 3.4k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

“No.”

“Please?”

“Absolutely not.”

You weren’t used to being told no, at least not after you used your secret weapon, if he was anything like his best pal it has to work. Blinking and fluttering your lashes you broke out your Disney princess eyes, “Buck buck, please let me braid your hair,” you cooed.

He stared at you, his lips pressed in a thin line, “Fine,” he sighed finally, giving in.

You squealed, running off to your bedroom to get a brush.

“I remember I used to braid my friends hair at sleepovers, it was such fun,” you said, dividing a strand of his hair in three parts, one over the other, “Before I got my powers anyway, after that they’d all just be scared of me...” you trailed off.

“Steve’s excited to see you,” he told you after a beat of silence.

He had only been living with you for a week or so, it was surprising how close he already felt to you. You had a certain vulnerability that made him want to protect you. That and it was obvious how far gone Steve was for you. You were down so he had to say something to cheer you up.

“Wait what?” your hands stopped, “He’s coming here?”

“Yeah, he left yesterday. Should be here this evening. He wanted it to be a surprise.”

You took a sharp breath, remembering how he had so cruelly rejected you and sent you off to Wakanda just so he wouldn’t have to deal with you.

He abandoned you.

“I don’t want to meet him. I’ll stay over at Shuri’s, she wanted to have a girls night anyway,” you grumbled.

After you had gushed your love for them, baking brownies in your jammies and talking about boys while watching chick flicks, she seemed curious and fascinated, wanting to try one with you.

He hummed at that. He knew something had went down between the two of you, Steve said so himself, ‘I have a lot to make up for.’ He was curious as to how his clueless friend had messed up, but it wasn’t his place to ask.

Which is why he brought Steve to the cottage he shared with you. Listening to him talking about all the missions in Europe and Russia, how he was excited to see you, how he had missed him terribly. Bucky told him he spends his time taking care of his new goat and his beautiful cat. They often keep him occupied.

“Y/N said that I’m ‘totally a cat person’,” his lips curling up at how you had helped him pick a name for her.

“Hm, that’s true. Are you... you live with her... are you two close?” Steve stumbled over his words, his jaw clenching as he stared his dear friend down. He was more than happy to see him, but couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at the thought of you getting too cosy with him.

“In a way,” he smirked. “She’s a bit upset with you, just a heads up.”

“Yeah, I know, I deserve it,” he hung his head.

His palms shaky as they both entered the small cottage, going over what he would say to you. You were sitting on the couch in the, your feet propped up on it as you flipped through a magazine.

“You’re home early,” you smiled as you looked up at him. Your sweet smile turning into a frown when you saw him.

“Hey there, doll,” he rubbed the back of his neck.

You slapped the magazine on the couch, standing to your feet, your arms over your chest. “Captain,” you spat

His heart ached at that. He knew you were upset but to have you be so hostile to him, he didn’t know if he could take it.

He could easy handle being tortured by hydra agents but not this.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Bucky interrupted you both before taking off to find his cat, who knew where Alpine had wandered off to this time.

You both stood awkwardly, a few feet away from each other while you looked anywhere but his eyes, refusing to even look at him.

“How have you been?” he asked.

“Fine, I guess,” you mumbled, finally looking up, “as fine as I can be after being shrugged off like yesterday’s news.”

“Honey,” he took a step towards you but then stopped in his tracks when you backed away. “I’m sorry, I made a terrible mistake. I.. just couldn’t deal with my feelings, I thought I’d be taking advantage of you.”

You scoffed, “Taking advantage of me? Really? I’m not a child! I can decide for myself what’s good for me and what’s not.”

“I know that now. But... you’re so young and I’m supposed to be looking out for you and helping you,” he tried to reason with you while you shook your head in disbelief.

“Right, because you’re Captain America. Everyone should just do whatever you say. You always know what’s best, unlike us mere mortals,” you rolled your eyes.

He was in front of you in just two long strides, his brows furrowed and his patience running thin. “I’m not Captain America anymore,” he reminded you as he inhaled your soothing scent.

“You’ll always be Captain America he’s a part of you. And I’ll... never be good enough for you.” You stared at the henley stretched out over his broad chest, willing yourself to resist the urge to hug him. Him standing so close to you, you could inhale his unique scent you had grown to love so much.

“What?” he frowned. “Where did you get that idea?” It was absolutely ludicrous. He would have to pay a visit to whoever it was that said that to you.

“It’s the truth... that’s why you don’t want me. And I don’t blame you.” Why would someone like him be interested in you anyway.

“Doll,” he cupped your cheeks, tilting you’d head up to make you look at him, “I’m the one that doesn’t deserve you. I mean look at me.”

You arched a brow, giving him a once over before looking at his blue orbs again, his strong jaw covered in a thick beard, long locks that feel so silky in your hands, “You look like you belong on the cover of GQ, and before you have to ask, I’ll spell it out for you, since you’re like a thousand years old - GQs a magazine with pretty people on it.”

“I didn’t always look like this. I used to be very small, smaller than you.”

“Yeah, I know,” you smiled. “I’ve seen pictures, you were adorable.”

“Would you believe me if I told you a secret?”

“Yeah...” you’d believe him if he told you the sky was falling. Steve never lied.

“I love you,” he confessed as your jaw dropped, “I’ve loved you since the moment I met you. And I might not deserve you but if you consider me worthy of you, then I’d... like to have you.”

Your breath hitched as you stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “Wh - really? Nobody’s ever said that to me,” you blinked as tears started welling up in your eyes.

“I love you more than life itself. And I have a feeling that we will end up together,” he grinned.

“Well, don’t get too cocky now, I haven’t said yes yet,” you slapped his chest.

He grazed his fingers over your knuckles before holding your smaller hand in his, “So? What do you think?”

“I think... if you hurt me again I’ll punch you so hard. And my punches are much better now, thanks to Bucky, he’s been teaching me lots of stuff.”

“Never,” he shook his head, “I’d never hurt you. You’re so precious,” he kissed your knuckles.

“And you’d never leave me again,” you wanted it to be a fierce demand but your pout made it more of a needy request.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again. We’re partners. Captain America is gone. It’s just you and me now,” he promised.

You blinked your tears away, standing on your tippy toes to place a lingering kiss to his soft plump lips.

Smiling as you pulled away, you grabbed his hand, leading him to your bedroom.

“Where are we going, doll?” he chuckled, holding onto your hips and pulling your back against his chest, attacking your neck with a flurry of kisses, unable to keep his hands off of you for even a moment.

Your squirmed in his hold, “To the bedroom. Just in case Bucky comes back,” you let out a giggle when he blew a raspberry in the crook of your neck, which then quickly turned into a moan as he sucked a mark on it.

Somehow, you managed to drag him to your small bedroom, if he had his way you’d have fucked in the hallway.

Straddling his lap on your twin bed, which looked much smaller now, what with a super soldier on top of it.

Kissing him deeply, you pulled away, breathless but only to say, “I love you, too, this is just too good to be true,” you heaved.

“A lot of unbelievable things have been happening to me lately,” he pulled you back, groaning into your mouth as you rolled your hips against his crotch. Looking at you sternly, “Doll,” he warned you.

“Please,” you whined, humping his growing erection through his jeans and your thin shorts, you could feel your panties getting wet with your arousal. “I want you, so bad,” you kept rolling your hips till he stopped you by digging his fingers in them.

“This is not how it’s done... I’m supposed to take you out on dates and buy you flowers and chocolates - ” he choked on a moan as you palmed him through his pants.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he gritted, snaking his fingers in your short shorts, he brushed his fingers over your weeping folds. “You want me?” he asked as you desperately nodded your head. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

You gulped, looking into his eyes and opening your mouth to answer him, his intense gaze intimidating you as you hid your face in his neck, “You know...”

“What?” he asked again, “I’m like over a thousand years old, I’m rusty, you have to tell me,” he teased you, swirling your juices around on your soft petals.

He wasn’t rusty. He had been with 'you' just a week ago, only it wasn’t you. This would be your first time with him but not his with you. It was still strange, he couldn’t really wrap his head around it or bring himself to care.

“I want you... to.. to make love to me,” you said.

“You know I would never say no to you, sweetheart,” he kissed your hair, retracting his hand from your shorts he sucks your juices off his fingers, you taste the same.

You helped him as he rolled your shorts and your panties down your legs, pulling your tank top up and tossing it away. You fumbled, making yourself small and covering yourself up with your arms. But he wasn’t having any of it, he pinned your hands behind your back, latching onto your nipple.

“I’m...,” you gasped as he bit your hardened bud, bunching his henley up in your hand, “you’re wearing too making clothes,” you complained.

“Then why don’t you help me take them off, doll?”

Your eager hands pulled him out his pesky clothes, hiding his magnificent physique from you. You had seen him shirtless a handful of times, while dressing his wounds, but you always stared at him in awe. He did look like he was made in a laboratory.

You knelt before him, between his legs, eager to find out if he tastes as good as he looks.

He tried to stop you but you swatted his hands away, “You’ll hurt your knees, doll,” he reasoned.

You snorted, wrapping your hand around his thick girth, “I thought we were partners. I won’t have you treat me like I’m some damsel in distress again.”

He pouted, pulling at your kiss swollen bottom lip with his thumb, “That’s too bad because I’m always going to take care of you, especially now that I’m your man.”

You rolled your eyes, he really was getting ahead of himself, he’ll have to do a lot more to prove himself before you accept him as ‘your man’.

But you decide to let that go for now, instead focusing on his cock glistening with precum, peaking your tongue out to taste some of it and swirling your tongue around on his bulbous head.

“Don’t tease, doll,” he groaned, holding onto the back of your head, not really pushing but to urge you to take more of him because he was at the end of his rope, feeling as if he’d burst right there.

You pushed away at his hand, “I’m in control,” you stated, “no touching till I say so. Is that understood?”

He didn’t care, he just wanted you to stop your cruelty and put your mouth on him so he simply nodded, not knowing if he could actually keep the promise.

With a victorious smile you wrapped your mouth around his head, leisurely sucking on it, moaning at the taste of him before taking in as much as you could, pumping the rest of his length, fondling his balls with the other hand.

He was about to touch your perky breasts, but then remembered your ridiculous ‘no touching' rule so he ran a hand through his head hair, wiping the sheen of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

“God that mouth of yours,” he growled when you pulled him out with a loud ‘pop’.

A string of saliva connecting your lips to him, “I want you to come in my mouth,” you instructed.

“You want to swallow daddys cum?” he couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the incredulous look on his face.

“Who would’ve known... Steven 'golden boy’ Rogers, of all people...” you shook your head, a small smile on your face as you thought about the times you had called him that in your head while rubbing one out to the thought of him.

You pressed your lips to the vein on the underside of his cock, sucking on it, “You’re going to come in my mouth, daddy, and stay there until I swallow all of it,” you told him, if only to remind him that you were in control, even if he ‘convinced' you to call him that.

You lightly scraped your teeth over his length before swallowing around him, gagging a bit as you tried to take more of him, but it seemed impossible to fit him whole no matter how hard your tried.

“I’ll try,” he teased, releasing a shaky exhale, his balls tightening in your palm as he held onto the sheets, painting the back of your throat with ropes of his spend.

You swallowed all of him, suckling on his length till you felt him softening in your mouth, you opened your mouth to show him, “Told you I’d swallow it all,” you licked your lips, just in case you missed anything.

“You’re such a good girl.” He praised, cupping your head and leaning down to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips. Easily picking you up and flipping you so that you were on your back, he spread your thighs, licking his lips as he caught a glimpse of your cunt. “What do you want to do now, sweetheart?” he asked again.

You whimpered, mumbling nonsense but you knew, once Steve set his mind to something it was impossible to convince him otherwise. He was really gonna make you say it out loud. “I want your mouth on me,” you turned your head to the side, shutting your eyes, completely flustered.

He dove in for his prize, giving your bundle of nerves a soft kiss before smearing your juices around your cunt with his fingers, prodding one at your entrance he plunged it in, your walls hugging it so wonderfully, “You’re so tight, all for me...” he blew a breath of air on it, kissing the soft patch of hair on top of your mould.

You were much too delirious to think of anything but his fingers teasing you, his lips pressing butterfly kisses to your thighs, his hands massaging your titts, but you vaguely heard him call out your name.

“What?” you rasped, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Come, sit on my face. You said you wanted to be in control,” he shrugged.

“Wh - what... do you even know how that works?” you heaved. You had never done something like that before, while it sounds enticing, it would be impractical... maybe...

“I thought they had like two sex positions in the forties. The missionary, and uh...”

He shushed you, “I’ve never been a prude, you should know that by now,” lying on his back, he felt his dick hardening again and aching for any kind of attention from you, but he’d have to take care of you first.

“Come here...” He held onto your hips, pulling you up till you were over his mouth, “Take what you need, doll.”

You hummed, running your drenched pussy over his face, a shiver went up your spine at the feel of his coarse bread on your sensitive skin, “I can’t,” you mewled.

“Yes, you can, doll. Come on, be good for your daddy,” he spurred you on.

Taking a deep breath, you held onto the headboard, arching your back as he wrapped his mouth around your bundle of nerves, you started grinding your hips over him, soon getting accustomed and even liking the burn his glorious beard gave you.

“I’m gonna... come, daddy,” your voice breathy, your hand massaging your breast as you gushed around his beard.

You held onto the board, trying to catch your breath, your other hand in his long locks as he kept lapping you up.

You shuddered as you crawled down his body, hovering over his hard cock which was pressing against his taut stomach. You spread your lips with your fingers, peaking up to see him looking at you with dark, lust ridden eyes, coating him in your juices by running your clit up and down his length.

It was too much for your sensitive clit to be rubbing against the velvety skin of his cock but not nearly enough for him.

He digs his nails into your hips, growling, “Get on with it,” he held onto the base of his length, nudging your lips aside before plunging into your heat.

“Oh,” you gulped, trying to sink your hips down on him but even after all that preparation he was too big for you.

“You’re so small, doll,” he smiled, noticing your evident struggle as he caressed your cheek, his eyes fixed on you trying to take him in, “is it too hard?”

You nodded, “I can still do it though,” still so eager to please him...

“You don’t have to. You’ve done so much already, you must be tired.”

You opened your mouth, to argue that he was the one who had taken a long journey to get here, but he circled a hand around your waist, bringing you down, flush against his chest.

“You just lay there and let me do the work, okay, sweetheart?” you whimpered but nodded with your cheek pressed to his heart as he thrusted deep into you.

“Okay, daddy, I’ll try,” you murmured, tears streaming down your cheek when he brushed against your sweet spot.

He stopped his hips when he heard you son, “You all right, doll?” he asked, looking down at you.

“Yes, it’s just so good, please don’t stop,” you requested.

And he had promised to never say no to you so he kept fucking up into your tight hole, whispering sweet words to you, telling you just how good you were at taking him, how well you were doing.

“My one and only,” he kissed your head as you cried into his chest, clenching around his cock. Triggering his own climax as he came inside you, staying inside you even after he was done.

Content with knowing that you’ll be his forever.

As long as he doesn’t fuck up again...

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to join the taglist.

I guess that was cheating because the face sitting was just a small part of it😅😅 But I hope you still liked it! Comments and reblogs are really appreciated💖💖 I'll try to write one more part with jealous endgame!Steve.

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #kinktober #marvel kinktober

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minyoongiest · 4 years

Text

What’s Poppin’, Girl? || KNJ (M)

• pairing: Namjoon x reader

• rating: MA/18+

• type/genre: smut, fluff, idol!au, established relationship

• word count: 5k

• summary: After writing a lengthy term paper, some alone time with your fresh-out-of-the-shower boyfriend is a good way to destress.

• contains: explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral (both receiving, not simultaneously), vaginal sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, post-sex cuddling

• note: This is essentially a commission I did (but for free) for my good friend who loves Joon. It was a little strange to write since I’m much more comfortable writing about Yoongi, but let me know if you like it. (Translations are at the end.)

|| ao3 ||

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I glare at the little number at the bottom of my screen reminding me again that my grad paper is still ten words short of the required word count. I release a slow breath and start rereading it again from the top, trying to figure out where I could possibly fit another sentence, even though I can’t think of a single thing left to say on this subject. I mean, it’s psychology, so there’s plenty to say, but my brain is fried, and I would like to be done now.

I let out a frustrated noise and shut my eyes.

“Gwaenchanh-a?” Joon’s deep voice asks distractedly from above me.

“What if I just quit?”

I tilt my head back on the pillow I’m leaning against, which is resting against Joon’s thigh, and look up to see him frowning at me, his attention stolen from the book in his hands.

“What?”

“This is…stupid.” I glare at my computer screen. “I mean, it’s important, but I’m so done.”

“How much more do you have?” He squints at my paper so far.

“Ten words.”

“Ten words?” His eyes widen, and then he slowly shakes his head. “You can do ten words.”

Suddenly, the pillow I’m leaning on shifts, and I jerk upright.

“Where are you going?” I twist on the couch as he stands and sets his book on the coffee table.

“To take a shower,” he looks back at me with his arms stretched behind his head.

“But you were helping me,” I complain instantly. “Don’t leave.”

“You’re doing homework.” He gestures to my computer. “I didn’t think you needed me for that. I figured when I get out of the shower, you’ll be done and we can do something together instead.”

I’m still a little annoyed he’s abandoning me, but he also piqued my interest.

“What kind of ‘something together’ are you thinking of?”

He grins, and I hate it because it’s beautiful and dimply and way too sexy for doing homework.

“Just finish your paper.”

I open my mouth to argue and then freeze when he pulls his shirt off giving me an eyeful of his bare back.

Before he disappears into the bedroom. It takes a second before I can turn back to my homework, my body even less interested in this damn paper than earlier.

“Asshole,” I mumble, even though I don’t actually think that at all. “He could’ve just waited until I wrote the last ten words.”

Then again, if I finish fast enough, he’ll still be in the shower, which has lots of potential for doing “something together.” Something that involves orgasms, so a very good something.

Except.

I still have to come up with ten words for this paper. For fuck’s sake, since when has ten been such an impossibly large number? Setting my computer next to his book on the table, I get up and go into the kitchen for a Ramune soda. Maybe if I take a break for a second, I’ll be able to finish this paper from hell.

The soda helps, but it still takes me a million years to finish the paper. (Ok, fine, half an hour, but still.) When I’m done, I check over it one last time and make sure my sources are cited and formatted right before saving and submitting it. Then I put my computer down and twist my legs over the side of the couch to stand up.

It turns out half an hour is plenty of time for Joon to shower, because as I’m walking into the bedroom I hear the water go off. I had been planning to get in with him, but too late for that, which sucks because shower sex with Joon is always highly enjoyable.

Instead, I turn to the pile of clean clothes on the bed. Since we’re not doing it in the shower, and I’m still planning go have sex tonight, we’re going to need this to be laundry free.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” I turn toward the bathroom.

And then a miniature earthquake happens in every part of my body, it’s epicenter right between my thighs.

He’s wearing a thin white towel around his waist. His hair is damp and sticking out everywhere, and he’s grinning again.

Oh God. I can’t feel my legs.

“Wha–” I brace myself on the mattress. “What do you want?” I whisper.

His grin GETS. BIGGER.

And then he flexes his pecs.

FLEXES THEM.

WHILE HALF NAKED AND RIGHT IN MY FACE.

“Fuck,” I hiss as wet saturates between my now-trembling legs.

They’re about to give out, but that’s probably fine, since I’m already getting on my knees anyway.

“What are you doing?” the smile in his voice fades into confusion as I drop down next to the bed.

“You started this,” I look up at him, raising my eyebrows. “Do you want me to suck you off in that doorway or do you want to sit down?”

“Wait, what?” he blinks, and I move closer to him, reaching up to grab the flimsy fabric at his hips.

“I’m gonna blow you now,” I explain softer. “Which is what you were asking for when you popped those giant tiddies like that.”

His face starts to get red and he shakes his head.

“I was just–”

“Don’t make excuses,” I cut him off, tugging on the towel, which falls free easily. “You knew what you were…”

My sentence dies as my eyes land on his hard cock. Fully erect, lined with veins—the thickest one running right up the underside—the pink tip glistening with precum, tan shaft visibly throbbing… Fuck, I can practically feel the heat coming off of it against my face.

My mouth is literally watering. Shutting my eyes—even though the image of it is seared into my eyelids—I swallow and lick my lips before opening them again and reaching out with one hand.

“You know you don’t have to–”

I pause and look up at him, my hand hovering less than an inch away.

“I want to,” I tell him firmly, “and you want me to, don’t you?”

He coughs out a hoarse, “yes,” which is all I need to hear.

Brushing my fingertips along the feverish length, I lean forward and kiss the side of it close to the base. He grunts, and I see him brace an arm on the doorframe out of the corner of my eye before I look back at what I’m doing. I curl my whole hand around his shaft and begin sliding my fist up and down, kissing his leaking tip.

His hips buck suddenly, and he groans out my name, which is my cue to move things along. Letting go of him, I lean in again and start licking him all over. One of my hands goes to his hip to steady myself, while I use the other to tease his balls and run the edge of my fingernail up and down his shaft. When he’s slick all over, I sit back and blow a faint stream of air over him.

“Fuck, baby,” he bites out. “Oh God.”

I look up at him, meeting his eyes as I take his bulbous head between my lips. I suck on it gently before taking a little more, releasing some, and then taking more. I repeat it until I’m sliding almost all of him in and out of my mouth.

“Take it all, baby,” he gasps, and I wince.

I can’t take all of it or I’ll gag, which won’t be sexy at all. To make up for what I can’t fit, I take the remaining inches in my hand and start squeezing and twisting my fist as I begin sucking on him.

“Ssibal!”

His free hand slams into the doorframe, which he’s now gripping both sides of as I swirl my tongue around his swollen tip. Releasing him for a second to take a breath.

“Don’t stop,” he winces.

Nodding, I guide him into my mouth again before sliding my hands around his thighs to grab his ass.

He swears through his teeth, and I look up to see a vein popping in his neck. Warmth spreads in my chest, knowing I’m making him feel good. It also spreads in other places since having his dick in my mouth makes me feel good too.

I start sucking again, gently, dragging things out. Using his ass for leverage, I slowly begin taking more of him as I slide him in and out between my lips.

“More,” he whines at the same time his cheeks clench in my hands, forcing his cock further into my mouth.

I let out an involuntary moan around his thick shaft, and suddenly his hand is in my hair, holding me still as his hips jerk. My legs almost give out as I suck on him while he fucks my mouth.

Fuck. It’s so big. My eyes are watering.

He stops suddenly, pulling out, and I gasp in surprise.

“Why did you do that?” I hiss.

“You’re crying.”

My eyes widen, and I glare at him. “So?”

His face, twisted with arousal, turns into a frown.

“I’m gonna hurt you.”

“If you take this dick away from me, I’ll show you crying,” I snap at him.

“What?”

I sigh, and stroke the skin of his ass.

“Joon, just let me finish you off. I know you’re close.”

After a second, he nods, and I instantly pull him against me again, taking all of him in that I can before sucking deep.

“Son of a bitch!”

I continue sucking as I slide him in and out. He only lasts a few second before his cock twitches and suddenly hot streams of fluid are hitting the back of my throat. I focus on the heat and on swallowing it all, my hands holding on firmly to his ass as his hips jerk. When he’s spent, I release him slowly, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand.

“You okay?” I ask softly, climbing to my feet on quaking legs.

“Ne,” he murmurs. “Better than okay.”

“Good.”

“Now it’s your turn.”

I blink and, before I can ask what he means, my back is in the bed on top of the clean laundry.

“No, we can’t have sex here!”

“What?” His face twists with confusion. “This is our bed. This is where we have sex.”

“There’s clean clothes all over it.”

“I can fix that.”

And then before I can stop him, he’s shoved all the laundry onto the floor.

“Kim Namjoon!” I scramble to stand up. “Are you kidding me?”

“What? Now they’re not on the bed.”

“Now they’re dirty! Again! I just–”

The sudden smack surprises me, and I gasp looking over my shoulder.

“Did you just spank me?”

“Yes.”

The heat of it slides between my legs, and I bite my lip, turning my head to hide my blushing face.

“Did you like it?” he asks quieter.

“Mmhmm,” I nod, avoiding his eyes.

“Get on the bed, baby.”

I let out a shaky breath, forgetting the clothes on the floor, and climb back onto the mattress.

“It’s your turn,” he repeats his words from earlier. “I just came, so I’ll need a few minutes before I can go again.”

“That makes sense.”

“So until then, I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“First, I gotta get you naked,” he says in a deeper tone that does fantastic things to me.

“I can help with that.”

Rising up on my knees, I pull my top over my head and throw it on the floor. He reaches around to undo my bra, while I start pushing my leggings down past my waist. He flips me suddenly, and I let out a sharp cry as I land again. Taking the band of my pants in his large hands, he removes them and my underwear all at once.

“Goddamn, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, and a kaleidoscope of butterflies erupts in my belly.

His eyes travel over my nakedness, and I look away, afraid I might cry if I see the look of awe on his face a moment longer.

The kiss surprises me. His soft, perfect lips on mine. He does it again, and this time, I kiss him back, sliding my fingers in his wet hair, holding him to me.

He moves away, and I reluctantly let him go.

“Okay, come here.”

I blink as I sit up, watching him lie back on the pillows.

“What are you doing now?”

He leans forward and grabs me under my arms, hauling me over him until I’m straddling his waist.

“Like I said. It’s your turn.” He flicks his eyes up toward the headboard before meeting mine again, and a shiver runs down my spine. “Knees in the pillows, baby.”

My heart trips in my chest, and I take a quick breath before rising up on my knees and moving up the bed. His large hands slide up my thighs as I move over his shoulders, my skin immediately breaking out into goosebumps. Finally, my knees sink into the pillows on either side of his head, and I rest my hands on the headboard.

“How’s this?” I ask, looking down at him.

“Perfect,” he says softly.

One of his fingers trails through the wet between my legs, and I start panting. His large hands move to the outside of my hips, and suddenly I feel his hot breath moving over me. Oh God. A fresh ripple of heat tears through my pussy and I feel his eyes watching it. My fingers flex around the wood slats, and I whimper. Fuck, he hasn’t even touched me yet, and—

His lips brush my lips, just for a second, and I let out a soft whimper. Then his fingers are there, teasing and pulling at me, making me squirm above him.

“Joon,” I whine at him, my voice threaded with need.

“Patience.”

I can practically hear his dimply, sexy grin.

“You ready?” he asks as his fingertips curl in, brushing the insides of my thighs, every word sending a rush of air over my most sensitive place.

“Y-yes,” I whisper, but the word is barely out of my mouth before his hands lock on my hips and pull me down, my drenched sex pressed right against his face.

I gasp at the feel of his lips on me, his damn grin touching me right there. He kisses me, his soft lips puckering against my wetness, before his fingers slide around to my ass, which he grips firmly, and then his tongue is on me. I moan at the immediate heat of it, lapping at my soaked slit and toying with my clit. I barely resist the urge to grind on him.

“Fuck me,” he groans against me, making me moan, “so fucking sweet.”

“Don’t—Don’t say that,” I pant. “It’s cheating.”

He’s not allowed to be sweet during sex because I’ll cry, and crying during sex isn’t the stuff orgasms are made of.

“Mmm.”

Two of his long fingers slide into my pussy, and I feel my legs quake. He twists them as he removes them, causing my walls to squeeze acutely.

“Joon, please…”

“Baby, I got you,” he murmurs.

His hand moves back to my ass where he squeezes both of my cheeks in his palms. Suddenly, his lips part against me and he sucks deep. My back arches and a whimper tears out of my throat.

Then he’s just sucking. On everything. My lips, my clit, my thighs. His fingers dig into my ass, and I feel heat gathering in my belly. His teeth scrape against me, and I breathe his name like a prayer, leaning my head against my hands.

I can’t hold out much longer.

My hips move on their own, rocking against him as he sucks and licks, his fingers flexing around my ass.

I’m feeling too much. It’s everything all at once. Everywhere.

His tongue dips in for a split second, and I whine. I feel him smiling again.

“Kim Namjoon, this is–”

And then his tongue is filling me. Thrusting in and out while he continues biting and sucking. The fingers of one large hand slide around to toy with my clit. I can’t stop it. My control shatters, and I press down against him, grinding against his gorgeous face. He grunts again, this time inside me, and I cry out. Two of his fingers find me, and he doesn’t miss a beat, blending the thrusts of his tongue with those of his hand. His teeth scrape over my lips at the same time his fingers roll my clit, and it’s over.

I’m coming in his mouth.

My entire body locks up as I shout his name. I grip the headboard so tightly my knuckles go white while the massive orgasm rips me apart. He doesn’t stop his perfect torture until he’s sucked every drop of pleasure out of my body, at which point he eases me up onto my knees, where he leans up just far enough to place one kiss on each of my thighs and then one last one against my sated lips before pulling me off of him and settling me down on my back in the space next to him.

My heart is racing, and I still haven’t caught my breath. With one hand I reach back to feel the skin of my butt.

“I think you bruised my ass,” I announce softly.

“What?”

He jerks up in the bed and cranes his head to see my backside.

“I’m not sure, but…you were squeezing pretty hard.”

“Oh my God. I didn’t–”

“Don’t apologize,” I cut him off. “I liked it. It was hot.”

He blinks, and sits back a little. “Oh.”

I press my lips together at how cute and sweet he is when my eyes catch on his dick. It’s hard again. Clearly, he enjoys having his mouth on me as much as I do. God, it’s all swollen and heavy and begging to be touched.

My pussy clenches, and I feel myself getting wet again instantly. I need it inside me.

“Joon,” I murmur, my voice sounding strangled.

“Ne?” he looks up at me and then his eyes follow mine down to his mammoth cock.

His eyebrows rise, and he looks back at me.

“See something you like?”

“I see something I want,” I reply softly. “Are you gonna give it to me?”

“Absolutely.”

He grins and reaches for me, sliding his arm around my waist and turning us in the bed so I’m on my back, my head in the pillows, with him hovering over me. I open my legs for him automatically, his hips falling through, his feverish dick grazing the skin of my thigh.

I gasp, my hands reaching up for his shoulders as his head lowers to my ear.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, his lips gliding over the skin of my neck. “I love touching you like this.”

His hands slide from my knees up my thighs, making me whimper as his fingertips graze my swollen lips before moving to my hips and up my sides, over my ribs.

“Joon…”

“I love this…” His mouth kisses a trail over my jaw. “And these.” Both my collarbones. “And…these.”

His large palms slide over my boobs, my nipples puckering against them instantly as I moan. His thumbs drag over the erect points, and my back arches off the bed.

“I love how sensitive they are,” he goes on, his mouth kissing down the line between them. “Especially when I do this.”

His lips close over the peak of the left one, and my body goes rigid. One of my hands grabs a fistful of the sheets, while the other clasps his head to me. I moan, and feel a rush of fluid between my legs, trickling down my thighs. He sucks gently before releasing it only for his tongue to dart out, the tip swirling around my areola before the flat of it laps at me. He leans back, and I start panting as the cool air against the residual heat of his tongue only makes my nipple tighten more.

“And this one.”

He moves to the other side and repeats everything. My heart is pounding when he sits back, and I’m so wet I think there’s probably a wet spot on the sheets, but I’m way too turned on to check.

He reaches for them again, his thumbs aimed for my painfully hard nipples, when I reach out and grab his wrists.

“I’ll come,” I wheeze at him.

“What?” he blinks.

“If you keep playing with my nipples, I’ll come. I’m serious.”

“Really?”

I jerk my head forward in a nod, and his eyes widen.

“Fuck, baby, I knew you were responsive, but I didn’t realize you were that responsive.”

“Just…put your damn dick in me already,” I huff, pouting.

“Oh? You mean this dick?”

Leaning forward, he puts an elbow in the mattress, taking his weight, so his face is hovering inches from mine. He reaches the other down between us and takes himself in his hand, carefully moving the engorged head between my lips.

“Yeah,” I choke out. “That’s the one.”

He presses his lips to my temple as he slowly moves the tip along my dripping slit.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he mumbles against my skin.

I start to tell him to hurry up when he catches on my entrance. I stop breathing as he begins to push in, my fingers on his shoulders digging into his skin.

Oh God. He’s so big. I twist my head to the side and squeeze my eyes shut as my pussy stretches around him.

“Damn, you’re tight,” he groans.

He sinks in another inch, and I bite down on my lip, but a tiny whimper still slips out.

“You okay?” he asks softly, and I turn to look at him.

“Yeah,” I murmur breathlessly. “I’m good.”

“You sounded like you’re in pain.” He frowns. “Do I need to pull out and finger you some? I thought you were wet enough, but–”

“It’s not that.” I shake my head. “Your dick is just so big,” I remind him.

“Oh…yeah. Right.” He smirks, and I see him try to hide it. Dork.

“Is…Is it in all the way?” I try to see, but his giant pecs are in my way.

His smile fades, and he looks back down at me. “There’s a little more. If you can take it.”

“I always take it, Joon,” I remind him softly. “I just need a few minutes to adjust to it.”

He nods and strokes the skin behind my ear with his thumb.

“Tell me when you want more.”

“Okay.” I shut my eyes for a second, before I tap his side. “I’m ready.”

He pushes in the last few inches, and I moan at the feel of him filling me completely. His thick, hard shaft inside me, his balls kissing my lips.

“Still okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Keep going?”

“Yeah, just go slow at first.”

He kisses my lips before he carefully pulls out and slides back in. I hiss at the feel of his turgid, veiny flesh dragging against my sensitive walls. My knees come up on either side of him as he does it again. And again.

“Faster,” I whisper.

His hips rock against me, steadily increasing in speed, my pussy squeezing with every thrust. My arms slide around his shoulders, and I lift my lips to his ear.

“Fuck me, baby.”

“You sure?” he groans.

I lift my legs and curl them around his back. “I’m sure.”

His restraint snaps, and I cry out as he begins pounding into me, my arms automatically locking around his neck. He starts thrusting fast and hard, his balls slapping against me. My body rocks with his rhythm causing my breasts to slide against his pecs, the friction sending tiny bursts of pleasure through my nipples. My moans get louder and longer each time his giant cock enters me.

Suddenly, his free hand slides under my ass, lifting me, enabling me to take more of him.

“Namjoon!” I scream at the feel of it, my head flying back against the pillow.

Oh God. Everything he’s doing is so intense. I feel like my pussy is going to explode. I’m so close to coming I can almost taste it…

“Baby, I’m close,” he grunts.

“Yeah.”

“Need you to come.”

“I…I…”

He drops my ass and his fingers slide around between us, one of them going straight to my clit.

My lungs lock up and my entire body bows off the bed as my orgasm crashes into me. My legs squeeze tight to his hips, my heels digging into his ass, as shocks of pleasure run down my thighs, through my belly, and into my nipples. My pussy is spasming uncontrollably as his thick shaft continues to drive into me.

“You coming?” he asks hoarsely, his hand between my legs still rubbing against me.

“Mmhmm,” I whimper, still in the throes of it, but he must understand me because immediately his hand disappears, going to my hip where he grips me tight as he begins slamming into me even harder than before.

“Joon!” I moan, my orgasm rolling over into a new one.

Suddenly, his thrusts get erratic and he lets out a long groan, his head flying back as his cock jerks, spurting inside me as he comes. When he’s spent, he collapses on top of me, my body still trembling from the ferocity of my own climax.

After my heart stops racing, I drop my legs from around his waist, and run my fingers down his spine.

“I can’t breathe,” I whisper against the skin of my chest.

“Sorry.” He lifts up slowly, and I reach up to slide my fingers into his hair.

“Don’t pull out yet,” I murmur.

“No?”

“I like being full of you,” I whisper. “And I don’t want to give that up yet.”

“Hmm. Okay.”

His fingers run along the edge of my jaw, and I tilt my head to the side.

“Do you feel good?” he asks gruffly, his hand sliding behind my head, his thumb stroking the side of my neck.

“I feel fantastic.”

“Choayo.”

Then he lowers his lips to mine, and I inhale the taste of him. My fingers slide into his hair as I kiss him back. I will never be tired of this, the feeling of his perfect lips moving over mine, his tongue sliding against mine, the taste of him… it’s everything.

He keeps kissing me until we’re both out of breath, and he’s starting to get soft inside me.

“Gotta pull out now,” he mutters.

“Mm.”

I bite my lip as he slides out, my pussy suddenly feeling strange after being so full for so long.

“Are you tired?” He looks down at me as he shifts into the space beside me.

“Not really. Sated for sure, but not sleepy.”

“We can watch something on Netflix if you want.”

“The Good Place?”

“Sounds good.” He grins. “Let me just get a rag to clean you up first.”

“Please and thank you.”

He leans down as he climbs over me to kiss my lips again before exiting the bed and going into the bathroom. He comes back with a warm washcloth and runs it gently between my legs and over my sticky thighs before tossing it in the sink and getting back in bed next to me.

“Give me the remote?” He looks over at me from where he’s fixing his pillows behind his back.

“Here.” I grab the one from my nightstand and hand it to him.

He switches it to his left hand and starts pushing buttons to get to the show while his right arm hooks around my waist and hauls me against his side.

“Miss me already?” I whisper, as I snuggle against him.

“I always miss you when I’m not touching you,” he mumbles without looking at me.

“Oh.” That was sweet.

His hand slides down my back to curl around my ass, squeezing one of my cheeks between his large fingers.

Okay that’s less sweet. But I’m not complaining.

He sets the remote down, and I press my cheek to his chest, sliding my arm around his waist. He clears his throat, and I glance up at him before looking back at the T.V.

He doesn’t move for a whole minute, and I frown and look up at him again.

“Joon, are you okay?”

“Fuck this.”

I blink and stare at him as he suddenly slides out of bed and goes over to the pile of clean clothes he threw on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting, uh…aha. Here.” He throws something at me, and I flinch before catching what appears to be his favorite Kapital blue t-shirt.

“What is this?” I frown.

“A shirt. Put it on.”

“Why?”

“You’re…distracting.”

I raise my eyebrows at him. Standing there naked and sexy with muscles everywhere. And somehow I’m the one who’s distracting?

“Just put it on,” he sighs.

“Okay.” I slip it over my head. “Doesn’t this have matching pants?”

“Yes, but you don’t need those.”

“Oh? My ass isn’t distracting you?”

He immediately grabs the pants off the floor and steps into them.

“They’re for me. So you won’t be distracted.”

I look down at where his dick is barely hidden behind the soft fabric.

“I’m not sure how effective those are going to be.”

He sighs, and I press my lips together.

“Your ass,” he says in a low tone as he climbs back on the bed, “is very distracting, by the way.”

“Then why–”

“But regardless, I still want unrestricted access to it.”

His arm slides around me again as he leans back against his pillows, his giant palm returning to its place on my ass cheek and grabbing a handful.

“Okay,” I murmur, shifting my knee over his thigh. “You should start this episode over because I missed all of it.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

He grabs the remote again and goes back to the beginning while I relax into him, the softness of his shirt and his steady breathing making me feel calm all over.

“Joon,” I look up as he pulls the sheets up to our waists.

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” I whisper.

He blinks before bending his neck to kiss my forehead.

“I love you, too, baby.”

Then he slides his free arm around me, and I melt into him a little more before settling in to watch our show.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Translations:

Gwaenchanh-a – okay

Ssibal – fuck

Ne – yes

Choayo - good

117 notes · View notes

seijohsfairy · 3 years

Text

𝚂𝙷𝚄𝚃 𝚄𝙿

When your boyfriend gets pissed off, he’s dangerous. Definitely when you just so happen to be on the receiving end of it. day 04 of kinktober

.warnings. brat taming, orgasm denial, degradation, daddy, manhandling, a lot of jealousy, oral (giving), hairpulling, spanking, little bit of voyeurism .wordc. 3.5k

There’s something so frustrating about the way you’re smiling. He can’t explain it, well— he can but he’d rather not, since it’s nothing to be proud of. Under normal circumstances he thinks you’re the most beautiful person on the planet when you’re smiling, but right now it sets a deep groove above his brow and pulls his lips into a thin line. Oikawa motions his hand around before sliding it through his hair, laughing along with you when you giggle up at him. It’s a genuine laugh, for once, crinkling his eyes at the corners and pulling his cheeks a bit chubbier, and you’re not dealing much better.

“What are you glaring at?” Mattsun comes up from behind him to follow his look, before humming. “Ah, the girlfriend. Those two really get along well, huh.” He smiles, before putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I don’t know, Iwa, seems to me like they’re having more fun without you than with you.” It’s a teasing tone that he can’t miss, but it still doesn’t help. Mattsun’s already turning away again, tossing one of the balls into the crate. “Makki, start cleaning this up already, we have to close up soon!”

He should be glad that you get along with Oikawa. He is glad, but when his friend throws an arm over your shoulder there’s nothing holding back the jealousy that swirls to the surface. It’s like his brain has a blackout for a moment. He’s pulling you out from under him within a second, as you squeak at the sudden pull on your wrist. Oikawa’s arm falls uselessly to the side, and you turn to him with wide eyes. “Haji-” you start, but his glare cuts you off. He’s already walking away with you in toe, not even sparing any of the other guys a look.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut that pretty mouth.” Your lips close automatically, dragged behind your boyfriend who’s frown digs so deep into his handsome face that you’re worried it’ll stick. Oikawa raises an eyebrow to the both of you as he’s hauling you behind him. You just raise your shoulders in response before disappearing from view. Iwaizumi shoves open one of the locker rooms, the abandoned boys’ one, pushing the door into lock behind you. When he rounds on you, you take a tiny step back. “I’ll give you three seconds to explain yourself before I do what I really wanna do right now.” His voice is so much deeper than normal, it makes your knees feel weak.

You freeze under his gaze, but still send him a look. It’s not like him to get so defensive over you. Even though you know you shouldn’t, you can’t help but feel like pushing him just that bit further. “Hajime, we— we were just talking. You know that he’s always a touchy guy, it isn’t just with me.” He does know, but still his lip curls up and his eyebrows pull tighter together. “You’re angry for no reason. Tooru is my friend too.”

“Oh, Tooru is your friend now, is he?” When he walks a bit closer, you instinctively sit down on the bench to lower yourself for him. Your cheeks feel hotter than normal, but you keep his eye stubbornly. “You know what Tooru isn’t?” He cocks his head to the side, coming to stand right in front of you so that you have to look all the way up at him. You put your hands up against his belly, in an attempt to create some space maybe, but your wrists are just caught in his large palms and held together in one hand. The other hand brushes past your cheek and up, before he grabs hold of your hair and tugs your head back more. “Tooru isn’t your fucking boyfriend. So are you going to say sorry or are you going to keep being a slutty fucking brat?”

You should. You know you should. But your mouth is faster than your brain sometimes, and it’s out before you know it. “Sorry for what?”

He raises one eyebrow, just one, but it’s enough to let you know just how badly you’ve fucked up. You instantly wish you could swallow your tongue, but it’s too late. If there was any chance of getting out of your punishment, you’ve just kicked it straight out the window. “Get on your hands and knees,” he says.

You blink at him, and pout a little. “No, daddy, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” With your hands still held in his he pulls you off the bench and you hiss from the hard landing on the colder floor. “I said I was sorry,” you whine when he lets go, looking up at him even more now. “Don’t be mad.” He doesn’t just look it, you can tell from the darkness in his eyes he is genuinely pissed.

“Shut up. Bend over.” For the first time in a while your empty pussy clenches from both arousal and fear. It’s not easy to get under his skin enough to make him mad, but Oikawa clearly does it more easily than anything else. You get on your knees for him, watching your boyfriend over your shoulder. Hajime moves his jaw back and forward once, before clicking his tongue. “Actually,” he sits down on the bench then, and looks at you, “bad sluts like you don’t even deserve that dignity. Lay over my lap, now. If you wanna behave like a brat I’ll treat you like one.” The rumble in his voice is enough to get you up and moving over to him, but you frown too.

You didn’t even do anything wrong. As soon as you’re within reach he takes your arm and pulls you into his lap, tipping you over so that your blood rushes between your ears. You hold onto him to keep from falling over entirely. “Hajime!” A palm connects sharply with your ass, the heat of impact surging through you. You shut your eyes and shudder, grabbing onto his thigh where you can reach and the other keeping from connecting your face with the floor.

“What was that?” he grunts, dipping under the waistband with touches he knows will drive you crazy. You can only whimper in anticipation. He pulls your pants and panties down your ass and leaves them halfway down your thighs, before humming when you don’t immediately respond. His one hand comes down on your ass again, even harder this time, and you whine. His free hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head up so you’re only holding yourself up on his strong thigh. Your back arched so far back for him it will ache. “What’s wrong, baby? You look like you’re gonna cry.”

He chuckles when you crack your eyes open enough to look at him with wetness around your lashes. “Isn’t this what you want? You want daddy to punish you for being a greedy slut.” He waits for a moment for a response, for you to say you don’t want it, but nothing comes. Even if it hurts, you could never deny him anything. You open your mouth to talk back when he kneads the sensitive skin between his strong digits, but before you can get anything out he’s spanking you again. Your body twitches and you are shoved forward more, whimpering and tearing up at the perfect sting.

It’s not surprising the ace can deliver blows to make you all mellow, you knew this was how it was going to go, but that doesn’t keep you from crying as he smacks the tingling skin another time, and one more. “You got anything to say, brat? Or do I have to make you count them until you can’t anymore?” You mumble a tiny ‘no’, as your boyfriend finally lets go of the deathgrip on your hair to let you rest over his lap again. “I’m not going to feel bad for you, you pathetic slut. You knew this would happen when you were drooling all over Oikawa earlier.” With another blow, you whimper and press your face against his leg, spreading your legs more. It doesn’t really work with the way your pants are keeping them together.

Still, you feel the tracing of his fingers over the glowing skin, trailing down to your holes and huffing. “How did you say it?” he taunts, rubbing his digits around in your slick just enough to make you frustrated at the wait. “Say his name again, slut, you were saying it all cute for him earlier. So fucking lay on my lap like a desperate bitch and say it for me now.”

You look up at him from your pitiful position and whine in displeasure. “Daddy, please. I don’t want to, I only want to say your name.” He means it though, his movements crawling to a halt when you don’t listen the way he wants you to. It’s not like you mean to be a brat, but how can he ask this of you? Wouldn’t it just make him more angry? Just the tip of his tongue peeks out to wet his lips, but it’s enough to show you he’s serious. You sigh and bite your lip, but give in. “I said Tooru is my friend too. But—” Hajime shoves two fingers right into you without mercy, stretching you out so well it makes your toes curl. His warm hand pressed up against your sensitive skin and his fingers move out of you before you can catch your breath, before they are being curled inside you again with relentless pumps.

“But does Tooru own this cunt?” he grumbles, pulling you higher up his lap to get a better angle, which makes you moan out even louder. “Does he have his fingers inside your wet mess, hah?”

“No— hng- no, he doesn’t. Only you, daddy, just you,” you babble out, keening when he scissors you open to fit another finger in. “Ah, aah— daddy, please. Feels s’good, I’m so sorry.” With the three thick digits breaking you open, you can only hold onto him and hang on in hopes that he’ll get some of his frustration out before he fucks you, tears running down your face. You’re still mostly dressed, but you know you look like a total mess. In the back of your mind you wonder if practice is over any time soon, but you can’t truly find it in yourself to care. Sometimes even Iwa needs an ego boost, and if this is the way he wants to take it, you’ll gladly oblige.

“Are you dripping down your thighs for me, or is that all because of Tooru?” he asks again, brushing up against your spot so well that black spots litter your vision with each pump of his hand.

“You, you!” you whimper, digging your nails into his leg. “I only love you, daddy. Only you.” The coil in your belly is already so tight it’s making you ache, even with the lacking pressure on your clit. He’s just that good with your body, and you moan out for him as you suck your bottom lip into your mouth. Your body trembles pitifully in his lap, building so high. The blood pounds loud between your ears.

“Wanna cum? You’re super close, huh,” he chuckles, and you nod your head desperately up and down. But right as you’re about to fall over the edge, he pulls his fingers out of you, slipping them into his mouth with a growl. You full-on cry out as you feel your high slip away, lifting your body from his lap to glare so hard you can feel the sparks. It hurts. Hajime sucks his fingers clean, and just pulls your panties and pants back up. The sound that comes out of your throat is one of true desperation, but you can’t even help it. You wipe your hand under your eyes with one hand, being put down by your boyfriend as he tutts his lips. “Hold it. Maybe I’ll let you cum after.”

As you sit on the floor feeling sorry for yourself, the man goes to search through his bag, back turned to you. And you really, really have to convince yourself not to just finish yourself off. He’d have you crying out for hours if you did. When your boyfriend turns back, he tosses the tie of his uniform your way. “Put it around your eyes and open that pretty mouth for me. I’ll give you a chance to make it up to me.” You play with the fabric in your hands for a moment, before biting your lip. You’re still at the edge of crying, your lashes clumping together and your legs weak, slick center aching to be filled so bad it makes you a bit dizzy. That or the blood rushing back down. “You don’t want it?”

“No, I do,” you quickly mumble, putting the makeshift blindfold on to cover your eyes. You just love seeing his face so much when you take him into your mouth, which— thinking about it more, is probably why he’s doing this to you in the first place. The fabric pushes your wet lashes down, making sure you’ll look as fucked out as possible after. But you open your mouth regardless, licking your lips as you hear the sound of fabric in front of you. The warmth of his body even so far away is comforting, and so is the hand that brushes past your cheek. “I love you, Hajime.”

“Quiet, brat,” he mumbles, though you can hear it’s a lot more gentle than his harsh tone earlier. You reach your hands up to hold onto his thighs, as he rubs the head of his cock against your cheek with a soft sigh. You moan, reaching out your tongue as far as possible. You can almost see the way his handsome face contorts as he slides himself over your tongue and into your mouth painfully slow. The way his eyes flutter, bottom lip being tucked between his teeth. He always looks so hot like that, and your center clenches at the thought. “Open wider.”

He pushes himself in then, the taste of his precum in your mouth and his thick cock filling your cheeks all the way to the back of your throat, mind-numbingly slow. His groan is perfect, fingers tangling into your hair and yanking you forward until your nose is against his skin and keeping you there for a bit before letting you back up. “Want me to use you?” he asks, and you’re quick to hum around him as he slides back in. The pressure makes more tears, seeping into the blindfold. Hajime grunts when you hollow your cheeks and suck harder, rubbing your tongue along his length and squeezing his thigh in the process. He pulls his hips back, then holds onto your face and sets a pace that has you choking around him. But it feels so good.

“That’s it, fuckin’ take my cock all the way.” Your other hand moves under him to cup his balls and squeeze, which makes him thrust forward even harder. You gag and drool until he lets you back up for air and repeat that until you’re whining and moaning around him, as his perfect sounds make your thighs ache and your empty pussy clench tight. When you push on his hip bone he grunts in displeasure, but pulls your hair back to let you up. “You got something to say?”

“Daddy, fuck me,” you gasp out when he gives you air again, digging your nails into his thigh, “please. Please fill me up with your cock. I want it so bad.” Hajime hums for a moment and brushes his thumb through the mess running down your lips and chin. But he doesn’t do anything else, so you push your thighs together more for any kind of friction. He wants to drive you crazy, and it’s working. “Fuck, I’ll do anything, daddy. Just please let me sit on your cock, please. Want nothing more than to feel you in me, to have you stuffing my cunny and to fill me with your cum.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles at your overeager answer, and brushes his tip back over your lips once more. “You gonna behave now?”

“Yes, yes, yes. I’ll be good. Please.” When you feel his hands at the back of your head you almost start crying from relief, your needy pussy definitely dripping through your panties at this point. The coil in your stomach is so tight that you feel like you might evaporate any second if he doesn’t have mercy on you soon. The blindfold drops down your body and you immediately stand up to shove your pants and panties down your legs, as your boyfriend chuckles again. He sits down and pulls you into his lap, slotting your thighs around his hips and rubbing his cock through your gushing slit, while you wipe your lips with the back of your hand.

Then you pout at him when he lines himself up, and he understands your expression enough to kiss you for the first time since he pulled you in here. His warm mouth feels perfect against yours, but you’re pulling away soon, grabbing between your bodies to hurry it up. “Alright, desperate brat, calm down. I’ll give you what you want,” he grunts, lifting you up a bit to position you better. You sink down before you can think about it, letting his thick cock stretch you wide open. And as you whine around him, dropping your head back in pleasure, he grabs your ass tight and starts rocking into you. “Who fills you up like this?”

Hajime plants kisses on the exposed part of your neck, thrusting up hard as you do your best to meet his movements. The wet sound of skin slapping together fills the room, along with your mixed moans and grunts. It’s almost impossible to get any coherent thought while being stuffed to the brim, but you manage to lift your face enough to answer him. “Ha- ji- me,” you mumble, reaching up to grab onto the softer hair at the base of his head to have something to hold onto. Your muscles strain to keep up with his relentless pace, your high building way too quickly for your liking.

“That’s right. Only me. This slutty cunt will only ever belong to me, got that?” You don’t answer, just dropping yourself down on him and feeling the smack of each pump, your thighs slamming into his and the coarse hair rubbing against your clit until you feel like you might go crazy. “I own you, don’t fucking forget it again.” He reaches between you then, to brush your puffy clit hard and fast, with your mouth opening and tears dropping down your face. But before you can cum a sound catches you off guard, you almost wanna scream at the interruption. Iwa pulls his hand away even though you try to hold onto him, looking over your shoulder. Your phone is buzzing in your discarded pants.

“Just ignore it,” you plead. Of course he doesn’t. Iwa lifts a brow, before he motions you off. You have to bite your lip to hold in a sigh and slip off him with slick dripping down your thighs to pick up your pants and shuffle through the pocket. Your orgasm is right there, you can almost taste it. You freeze for a second when you see the name, but walk back to your boyfriend in the hopes that he’s just as desperate to cum as you are. The buzzing stops. You get back on his lap and send him a look, before he’s pulling you back closer to slide in again. You moan at the feeling and drop your face to his neck to hide away, letting him roll his hips into you. “It was Oikawa.”

“Call him back,” your boyfriend grunts. You feel the rumble of his chest against your cheek. You try to dissuade him, but he just thrusts harder into you so that you’re shut up, and pushes against your back to arch you into him entirely. “I’m not asking.”

With shaky hands you find the number and start ringing, looking up at your boyfriend with pleading eyes he pointedly ignores. The click of the line comes fast. “Oh, you rung back quickly!” Tooru sounds over the phone, and you bite your lip to hold in any sounds as you’re bounced up and down the ace’s cock. “I was just checking if you were still in the gym or not. We didn’t lock up yet so if you left already I’ll have to ask the coach to do it.”

“No- need,” you hiss, mouth cracking open when your boyfriend’s hand slips back between your bodies to rub at your sensitive bud ever harder than before. “Still here, I’ll lock up.”

“Okay, good… You okay? You sound a bit stuffy, maybe you’re getting sick. I have some tea that might help!”

Before you can say anything back, Iwa snatches the phone out of your hand and puts it to the side, putting you down on the bench and lifting your legs to your chest to pump into you harder. “Forget it, I’m not waiting on Shittykawa to finish talking.”

“Hajime, wait! Let me— Oh shit,” you cry, clenching around his cock and making him groan.

You try to reach for the phone to turn off the call if Tooru didn’t already, but Iwa just grabs hold of your wrist and bites down on the skin between your neck and shoulder to get your attention. “Fuckin’ leave it.” He pounds into you hard and fast, enough to make the entire bench rattle with each snap of his hips and his balls smacking into you. “Say my name properly,” he mumbles, and with each motion you forget about the phone a bit more. “Right now.”

He grabs hold of your thighs even harder, and you can only hold onto his shoulders while you’re rocked on his cock. “Daddy! Fuck, please pleasepleaseplease.” You don’t know if the call turns off at any point, but you stop caring after the first orgasm.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Calling to join them the wretched and joyful

Summary: An ancient game is played in the forest of Asgard by the noblemen. To the winners, go the spoils.

Warnings: noncon sex (oral, fucking), magick.

Note: A Loki one shot I’ve been meaning to write. It’s is vaguely inspired by Richard Connell’s The Most Dangerous Game but obvi I gotta make it kinky. Lol. Thanks for reading <3

Hope y’all enjoy. Like and/or reblog!! <3 Reblogs really help.

It was one of those cool summer mornings that foretells of autumn. The sun was yet to rise but the sky was woven in a rich blue. The trees clung to the night and loomed over the line of shivering women, scared and shivering in thin shifts.

You were one of the eight. Confused and silent as guards in golden armor watched over you with spear and sword. You wondered how much of a threat you could be; unarmed and exhausted.

They came in the night. Your mother clung to you as the guards tore you from her. Your sister Bera hid in the closet. Your mother could not lose two daughters. You bid her a frantic goodbye as your father held her back.

Your family's name had been drawn for the leikr. Rumours were whispered but they were easy to doubt; easy to dismiss without a royal proclamation. The ancient rite was abolished years ago but the new king brought back many other archaic laws. It seemed this was just another dusty scroll put back on the table.

Many thought Thor was a beacon of light after Odin's death but he quickly crushed the hopes of the people. The poor paid more to the rich and the aristocracy thrived on corruption and greed. The leikr was another of their little games. Another pleasure carried on the backs of peasants.

You crossed your arms and peered down the line of woman. Tilly, the butcher's daughter was there, her golden hair loose down her back. Hildi, a girl you knew from the market, too. Her round green eyes shone with tears. Yrsa, the statuesque redhead, was an only daughter; her parents would be distraught. The other girls you didn't know but they were from the same neighbourhood; the same streets that turned bleak in the eclipse of kings.

Before they led you out before the brush, the riki forest shadowy and ominous behind you, they brought you to the palace. The lower floors where the servants slept and worked. You were stripped of your sandals, if you wore any, and all but your thin sleeping gowns.

None of the woman dared speak, not since you had. A single question, a reasonable "what are you doing?" earned you a gauntlet cross your cheek. You felt the dried blood around the small cut, the swelling of the bruised flesh. The others looked to you when they thought to speak up and quickly forgot their words.

Finally, the dirt stirred and the approach of horses sounded. The voices of men and snorts of horses broke the eerie still of the morning. You shivered in time with the other women. Tilly sniffed and Hildi covered her face.

"Enough," A guard approached Tilly. "The king doesn't want to see your tears." He moved along and ripped Hildi's hands from her face. "Stand straight. When your king arrives, you bow your head and keep quiet."

He shoved Hildi's arm down and stepped back. You watched as the nobles appeared along the wide path. The King's golden hair streamed over his shoulders, the waves soft and thick. His men Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun kept their horses just a foot behind his. They laughed as they led the others into the clearing before the Riki.

The guards stood at alert as Thor drew his horse up and the other men lined up beside him. Volstagg made lewd jokes to Hogun as his eyes devoured the women stood before the trees. Fandral shook his head with a smirk as he passed and brought his steed into order. The other nobles chattered here and there as they followed suit. Many stared overtly at the thinly clad peasants.

Tilly leaned on Yrsa and whispered that she would faint. The redhead nudged the blond onto her feet and warned her to keep in line. You snapped your head forward and lowered it as you recalled the guard’s orders.

You peeked up at the last of the nobles. Lords Broddi, Reinn, and Ornulf leered at the trembling women and Prince Loki brought up the rear with a lazy glance towards the forest. You lowered your eyes and braced yourself for what was to come.

"Ladies," Thor greeted above the din. The men laughed, amused at lowly women receiving such a title from the king. "Welcome to the leikr. Your families have been honoured, chosen by the gods, and yourselves are the anointed."

The words made your blood curdle and you clasped your hands together. You bit down and snarled at the malice hidden behind pretty words. The leikr had long been the terror of wives tales; an ancient barbarism meant for storybooks. Even Odin had decried it.

"Before the day is over, you will be blessed with glorious purpose. To serve your sacred king and his lords, each borne of gods' blood."

You looked up again as the fury seared your veins. You glared at the king and your gaze drifted down the line of smug nobles. Some whispered and pointed to the woman they preferred. At the end of the line, your eyes met with another's.

Loki, to that point disinterested, noticed your silent loathing. His brow arched as he tilted his head and you quickly bowed your chin once more. You peeked over at the other women, cowering on bare feet and prone in barely there linen.

"But first there is the fun part. The selection, the game." Thor carried on. "You will have an hour to yourselves. To run, to hide. Should any remain undiscovered till the next dawn, they shall be allowed back to their former lot. Unchosen and unclaimed, you will not be bound by the law of the leikr."

The men chuckled again. That had never happened. None had yet evaded the leikr.

"Thus, without further ado, I shall appease my men's impatience, and declare the leikr begun." Thor announced. "Your hour commences now."

Silence rose around you. You looked to the other girls as they turned to each other in confusion. You turned back to the men, entertained by the clueless women, and your heart seized. You spun around and raced towards the trees. In a moment, several others followed as you plunged into the depths of the forest. The guffaws and shouts of the men rose and faded behind you.

You were lost. Not that it mattered. Perhaps the best thing that could happen was to lose yourself so entirely that none could find you. To perish out here, perhaps was a better fate than to be found.

You heard horses before and quickly charged in the opposite direction. Your stomach plummeted as you ignored the calls of other women when they found themselves sighted. You felt grimy beyond the mud on your feet. This was a self-serving game all around.

Out of breath, you came upon an arm of the river that pooled beneath a great oak. You were thirsty and unconcerned by the water's quality. It looked clear enough. You neared edge and cupped a hand to dip into the depths.

As you sipped from your palm, you heard it. The snap of a twig. Distant but close enough. You blinked and peered around at the wraith-like trees. You heard a hoof and then another. You held in the gasp as you tried to measure the direction of the approach.

You couldn't tell as all noise seemed to surround you. You lowered yourself onto your bottom and eased into the water, careful not to make too much commotion. It was cold against your hot skin and your feet met the silty bottom.

You moved carefully towards the base of the tree, beneath a hole that housed the wild. A bear could sleep there but worse predators chased you. You reached the twisted roots curled beneath the lip of the cave and stepped into the darkness.

You turned and covered your chattering teeth. The hooves grew closer, the twigs snapped, the dirty crunched, the clink of metal sharpened. You waited as you listened to their approach. The sound of boots on the ground as they dismounted.

Whoever it was made careful inspection of the river's edge. The water swirled softly around you and you clung to a gnarled root to keep yourself still. A subtle splash of water as they stooped to drink as you had.

Then, another set of hooves sounded. The panting of a horse as it came upon the shore. "Brother," It must have been Loki as you knew Thor's voice but not his. "Tired already?"

"This is a hunt, you know it is more than just riding around. We must track our game." Thor replied. "Thought I heard something but it must've been a critter."

"Mmm," The second-born hummed.

"I wanted the blond. The one with the teary eyes but Volstagg claimed her before I could."

"Pathetic thing. Not worthy of a king." Loki remarked. "Who do you seek now?"

"The redhead perhaps." Thor answered. "Nice hips. I wouldn't mind a bastard. And you? Have you a fancy for any or do you only come to humour me?"

"This is not my type of game," Loki said. "By rite, I have come along but my preference remains uninspired."

"Oh brother, I know you." Thor returned. "Unlike the others, I saw your pique." Thor grunted as he climbed back on his horse. "That plain one. The angry one. You might just have her because the other men barely noticed the creature."

"They are all the same to me," Loki chuckled. "I think I shall enjoy this little ride through the forest and see if perhaps this year the leikr will see a woman free."

"Mischievous as you are, you cannot lie to me, brother." You listened as the hooves moved slowly through the dirt. "Come on. Follow the river and we will surely stumble upon one soon. The sun grows hot and the air stolid. They will thirst."

“After you,” Loki intoned and you waited for their horses to trot away. The brothers called after each other and you stayed a little longer in the water. Making sure they were truly gone.

When you climbed out, your shift was soaked to your chest and you shivered as you dragged yourself up onto the dirty shore. Streaks of mud lined your nightgown and you crossed your arms as the late afternoon sun slipped through the leaves above and warmed your damp skin.

You began in the direction opposite to where the royal brothers had departed. You climbed up around the great oak and looked off into the untrodden brush behind. Your feet were sore already, scratched and raw from the forest floor. The branches above were thicker and closer together, slowly blotting out the sun the deeper your went.

Ten, maybe twelve feet into the woody umbrage, you heard it. Like a whisper. The subtle whish of fabric around the lithe figure. You turned slowly to face the green eyes as they shone in the dim. You sighed and took a step back as Loki grinned at you.

“My illusions tend to work on the untrained eye, though my brother is just as gullible,” He began. “You couldn’t see me though so how were you to know?”

You continued backward, feeling out each step with your feet. He followed at a similar pace.

“You said you did not like this game,” You said. “So why seek me out?”

“What I say is not always as I feel,” He reached up an unclasped his rich green cloak. “You’re cold. If you come with me, you will be warm. For so long as you wish.”

“I don’t wish it,” You insisted as you continued to walk back into the thickening brush. “I’d rather freeze.”

“Those other men are just lords. I am a prince,” He declared. “Would you rather be used for the night and discarded in the morning. What is left to the leikr woman but a life of whoredom?”

“There are seven other girls.”

“Two. The others were not so clever.” He corrected. “My brother will catch the red head soon enough and the black-haired baker’s daughter isn’t very quick.”

“You could go and let me disappear here. Walk away from the leikr for your boredom---”

“No, I cannot. To be the first to walk away without a prize would be worse than any shame thrust upon me by my brother.” He took a big step and you did too. “Come on, pet,” He held out his cloak. “This needn’t be tedious.”

You stared at him, searching for an ounce of empathy. There was none to be had in his gemlike eyes. You turned and dove into the trees only to be stopped by something quite solid. You looked up as the hands closed around your upper arms and held you in place.

Loki smirked as you glanced over your shoulder at the emptiness behind you. He had his cloak on his shoulders again but his eyes were no longer so hollow. You cringed as you realized his deception. The trickery he was known for. How easy you’d fallen for it.

“I am not of the mood to run after you any longer,” He said. “So come with me timidly or I shall drag you from here kicking and screaming. Your choice will be met with appropriate consequences.”

“Let me go!” You pushed against him. “You monster. You pretend not to be but you are as vile as the rest of them.”

He laughed as you struggled against his unyielding grip. He bent as he slid his hands down your arms and scooped you up over his shoulder in a single motion. You cried out and beat on his back as he carried you back towards the great oak. He was cautious on the decline that led around to the tree and when he came onto even ground, his steps were more swift.

He whistled and the black stallion he rode emerged from the trees, a blade of grass stuck to its lip. He neared the beast and as he rounded it, the beast sniffed your hair and huffed its hot breath down your neck. He chuckled and flipped you up onto your feet. He held your wrist as he stirred with his other hand in his saddlebag. You tried to wrench away from him but only twisted your own arm painfully.

He pulled out a rope and turned you easily and pressed you against the side of the horse. You could smell the stable, the leaves, and sweat of the stallion. He wound the length around your wrists so tightly you were certain your fingers would balloon. He took another and wrapped it around your ankles until you were bound up firmly.

He spun you back to face him and you threatened to topple over. He caught your shoulder and you leaned against the horse. He reached into his bag again as the steed dipped his head to chew on the thin grass.

“Myrkr doesn’t usually like strangers,” He mused as he pulled out a bundle. “Are you hungry?”

You sneered at him and said nothing.

“Well, if you don’t eat now, you’ll not eat for hours to come.” He warned. “So you can sit and let me feed you. A small respite before your duty begins or you can starve and wallow in misery.”

You shrugged and lowered your head. You didn’t care either way. Your appetite wasn’t especially ravenous despite your hours of running. He tucked the bundle under his arm and grabbed your elbow. He led you around the horse as you hopped clumsily. He sat you down in the dirt and unwrapped his fare.

He knelt and watched you, his face foretold of unspoken remarks. He offered you a heel of bread, holding it as you took a bite. Inner musings that irked you more and more. You watched the river just feet away and imagined yourself washing away with the stream. You chewed but didn’t taste the grainy loaf.

“I am most pleased I didn’t pursue that moping mess of a mouse,” He said as he cut a small piece of cheese from the aged chunk. “How interesting you are, pet. Even as you look away, I can feel the loathing.” Your eyes flicked to him as he offered you the cheese. “That won’t last long, I promise.”

The other girls were filthier. Evening set as you came upon the clearing. Loki had you across the saddle as he led his stallion from the path. Tilly wept as she sat on the ground. Her face was red with tears and the bright hand mark across her cheek. Each woman was separated from the others, waiting beside the horse of their respective captor.

Yrsa’s dress was torn and exposed her milky breasts. She stood with her eyes to the ground, her wrists in golden cuffs. The king sent lurid glances her way as he japed with his men. They turned as Loki appeared from the trees, his expression blank, his steps even and unhurried. Thor laughed and boomed as his brother approached.

“I knew you would catch her, brother,” He hollered. “Late but not lost.”

“Do not fret for me. We both know you’d not have caught the scarlet haired wench were it not for my sharp eye.” Loki returned.

Thor sighed and turned back to his men. “Well, I declare this leikr foremost a success and secondly, at an end. At least, the game itself. We have some fun ahead of us, don’t we men.”

The lords laughed and you winced. You looked around as best you could at the other woman. They were pulled from their silent surrender back to reality. Some were tied like you, others were too weak to resist, too scared. They were lifted and slung over saddles like you as the men mounted and settled in.

Loki climbed up behind you in kind, shifting you closer to the horse’s shoulders. He waited as the others kicked their steeds into step before he did the same. He kept to the rear, you felt a tickle along your arm. He held the reins with one hand as his other traced between your shoulders and down your spine.

“You see,” He kept his voice low, “It could be worse. The blonde won’t be able to walk tomorrow and when she does, she’ll work the streets where she was raised. The red-haired beauty might warm my brother’s bed for more than a night but only until he finds his next delight.”

You didn’t say a word. Your stomach hurt as you bounced with the movement of the horse. Loki’s fingers played with the dirty fabric along your hip.

“Be good and I’ll not send you to the gutter.” He continued. “You could be a maid, or a cook. If I like you enough...well, we will wait for promises.”

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Painful because of your position, more so due to your predicament. When at last the palace came into sight and the horses followed the road to the rear gate, the night bloomed completely. The moon shone in a half crescent and winked above you as the horse continued to jostle your body.

There was a flurry as the men entered the courtyard and attendants rushed to aid their returning masters. Loki dropped down with a lingering touch along your side. He handed the reins to a small boy with straw like hair and patted his shoulder. Servants emerged and offered refreshments to the nobles who left their prizes with their steeds.

Each woman was pulled down without grace and rushed in away from the lords. Your binds were left as they were and you hopped behind the rest of them. Inside the palace, it was dark and a scurry of skirts and aprons surrounded you. Your feet were cut loose but your hands left tied.

The parade of dirtied women was led down a flight of stairs and along a lower corridor. At each, a woman was left with a couple servants and closed up behind the dungeon like doors. You were the last, filled with the same panic more overtly displayed by the others. You were herded inside and two servants remained within as the lock was bolted into place.

“Get her in the tub,” The elder of the two commanded the other. “She’s filthy.”

Neither would look at you as they went about their work. The younger loosed your hands and you stood numb. The shock set in, the grim acceptance crawled down your spine. You were undressed roughly as the room blurred and made your head spin.

“The prince has arranged everything. Make her as presentable as you can.” The older servant explained.

“The prince seeks a lover at last and he chooses her?” The other bemoaned.

“Quiet, girl,” The other retorted. “You think he would want for you? Be her a commoner herself, do not envy her lot.”

The other pursed her lips and stayed silent as she shook her head at her companion. You let them lead you to the large metal tub and you stepped into the steamy water. As you lowered yourself, the fog filled your mind and added to the sudden haze. This could not be.

When the women finished washing you, they dressed you in a sheer green gown and gold sandals. They styled your hair and powdered your bruised face. Dark liner around your eyes and the rosy lip stain made you feel inhuman.

You weren't you anymore, you thought, you were his.

They placed a black rope over the sultry green attire and the door was unlocked at their tapping. You'd heard other doors before, small voices, frightened and pleading. You gulped down your fear and tried not to shake. You wouldn't go with cowardice but with stubborn defiance. Defy the fates and their efforts to crush you.

A twisted stairwell, hidden behind a small door, wound up and up and up. The higher corridors were brighter, lit by golden lamps, lined in red carpet and intricate tapestry. Empty given the hour but you imagined it bustled with gossip and pretension in daylight's grace.

You were stopped at another door. The older servant knocked and the handle clicked. No answer came and you felt a gentle nudge.

"Go on. He will not wait long." The old maid said. "Best not to test his patience."

You took a breath and reached for the handle. She waited for you to open the door and as you stepped inside she reached to grab the golden handle after you. She waited until you were past the threshold and pulled it shut.

You turned and looked around. Your ears rang in the silence, the closing of the door echoed in your head. It was a receiving chamber, a large desk faced you, a grand chair behind it. Green velvet covered chair and sofa, tables of ebony complimented the rich decorations.

"This way, pet," You looked to Loki as he leaned on the door frame to your left. He wore a pair of black silk pants and nothing more. "Unless you prefer the desk to a bed."

You frowned and hesitated before your body responded. Don't let him see you quake. You neared him and he offered his hand to you. You stared at his palm, his slender fingers, his snare-like hand. You took it without a word.

"You look better," He said. "Not so plain now."

You kept your eyes averted as he led you through the door. You looked at carpet, canopy, and curtain before you dared turn to him. As immaculate as the first room. He released you as he let you precede him. He pulled the door closed after him.

"A drink? Wine?" He ventured. "I could send for ale."

You shook your head and he tutted. He caught your wrist before you could move further from him. He turned you to face him.

"You'll have to use your words. I am still a prince and you are still a peasant. ‘Your grace’ or ‘my prince should do’." He smirked. "I prefer the latter."

"I am not thirsty, my grace," You said.

"Eager?" He teased.

You tried to pull away but he was stronger than he looked. He might be slimmer than his brother but certainly not weaker. He unballed your fist with his other hand and placed it flat against his chest. You felt the muscle and at last let yourself look.

"Remove your robe," He released you and stepped away.

You noticed the way the silk twitched along his crotch. He backed away and sat in a chair by the small round table. He reached for his crystal goblet and drank.

"Your grace."

You pulled loose the belt and the robe fell open. You let it slip down from your shoulders and folded it over your arm.

"On the chair," He arched a brow as he set aside his cup. "I'd like a good look at you."

You draped the robe over the back of the other chair and stepped back. You knew the light from the sconces thinned the material and bared all. You stood before him, stiff as you fought not to quiver.

"Well," He leaned on his elbow. "You look ravishing in green, pet."

Your lips were straight but you forced them apart. "Thank you, your grace."

"Let's work on your obedience." He said. "You can try to hide it but I see that little spark. So let's see how good a pet you can be."

"Your grace."

"I hear it too," He chimed. "Sounds a lot like a curse when you say it."

You cleared your throat and repeated yourself. He chuckled.

"Take the dress off." He ordered. "I want to see all of you."

You gave him his title again and inhaled. You reached to slip the straps from your shoulders. You didn't look at Loki, rather past him. Every inch of flesh bared made it harder not to shudder.

You paused before you let the fabric below your chest and over your stomach. You bent to step out of the skirts and stood with the dress in hand. You relinquished the gown to the chair with the robe and kicked the sandals from your feet.

Your turned again to Loki and waited. He didn't move but you felt his gaze. Heard his breath as it wisped between his lips.

"Get down. On your knees." You swallowed and obeyed. "Now…" He pushed his legs apart and his hand rubbed along his thigh, just around his arousal. "Crawl to me, pet."

You blanched and met his eyes. He grinned and pushed his shoulders back. Your jaw tensed as you bit down. Your anger burned through your humiliation and fear. You hated this. You hated him.

"Let me warn you, I do not like to repeat myself so if you insist on disobedience, I will bend you to my will with more than words."

You slowly let yourself down onto your hands. You didn't look away as you began to crawl across the carpet. You stopped before him and waited. You peered up at him and felt another surge within.

"Good pet," He purred and lifted himself slightly from the chair. He lifted the silk over his lap and past his arousal. He sat back as his cock stood against his stomach, just above the top of the black pants. "Now, I want you to put that scowling little mouth of yours to use."

You sat back on your heels and finally you had to look away. You knew what he was asking. You'd done it once with Brenn, the smith just down the road from your father. It hadn't gone much further once you met his wife. The introduction being his first allusion to his marriage.

You grabbed Loki's thighs and drew yourself close. Your fingers stretched over the silk. You wanted it done with. He said if you were good, you could live as a servant. You might not be left to the streets; discarded and disgraced.

You slid your hand over and gripped the base of his cock. He was thicker than you expected. Long, too. The veins stood out against your palm and he groaned as you bent your head over his lap.

You hovered your lips over his tip and when you touched his cock, you slowly parted them. Just the tip at first, you swirled your tongue and pulled back, easing him in and out. You teased the most sensitive part of him and he gripped the arms of the chair.

"Oho, you've...done this before." He breathed.

You didn't stop. You had to keep going because once you stopped, you wouldn't be able to go on. You took a little more of him and his hum rose with delight. You pressed tongue to his shaft and moved up and down his length until your mouth met your hand. Then you worked them in tandem.

He squirmed and his hand went to the back of your head. "Oh, pet, you are surpri--sing.” He gasped. "More. More. Take all of me."

He reached down and pulled on your arm until your hand slipped away. He pushed your head down until you choked and held you at your limit. Your nails dug into his thigh but he only seemed to enjoy the pain.

When he relented you pulled back but not entirely. You kept your lips around him and carried on. You let his hand guide your head and bobbed up and down his length. Your jaw ached as the saliva gathered and dripped down his cock.

"Gods," He swore and fisted your hair.

He pulled you off him and grabbed his cock. He stroked himself as he slid forward on the chair and held your head back. You closed your eyes as he grunted and his cum spurted across your face, along your nose and lips and across your cheek.

He let go as he finished and fell back in his chair. He panted and you opened your eyes. There was cum on his pants too and you reached to wipe away that on your face.

"Don't," He warned. "Leave it. A prince's seed is gift. You should wear it with pride."

He grabbed the arms of the chair and pushed himself to his feet. You fell back onto your ass as he stood, he hadn't softened at all. He pushed his pants down until they fell to his ankles and stepped out of them and strode past you. He looked around the room as he rubbed his chin.

"My pet, I can't decide where to fuck you," He taunted. "Shall I bend you over the bed? Maybe take you on your back? Perhaps against the wall?" He put his hands on his hips and turned to once more present his erection to you. "Tell me, are you wet?"

You shook your head. A lie. He laughed and dropped his hands.

"No?" He neared. "Show me then. Touch yourself and show me how dry you are."

"Your grace," You croaked and your hand felt heavy as pushed it between your legs. You were sopping and when you pulled away, your fingers glistened in the glow of the chamber.

"Do not lie to me, pet," He grabbed your wrist and yanked you up to your feet. He forced your hand up and shoved your fingers into his mouth as he sucked your juices off them. "Delicious."

He released you and played with himself as he once more considered the room and walked to the side of the bed.

"Get on the bed. On your knees." He pointed to the wide mattress. "Back to me."

You walked towards him and stood between him and the bed. You climbed up before him and walked forward on your knees until you were just past the edge. You stopped and waited.

The mattress dipped behind you as he got up too. He pressed himself to your back, his cock bobbed against your ass. He snaked his arm around you and slowly inched down your stomach and along your vee. He forced his hand between your legs and rubbed you with two fingers.

His other hand came around and grasped your chest. He held you against him and toyed with your nipple and clit at the same time. Your breath picked up, a tell, and he bent to nuzzle your head.

"Oh, pet, I told you it wouldn't last," He twirled his fingers. "You want me. You can hate me but you want me too."

You gritted your teeth as he plucked at your nerves. As your shallow breaths turned to barely muffled moans and your body buzzed against his. You twitched and your hand pressed against his as he stirred your body to a boil. You came with a spasm and a squeak and he purred into your hair.

"I want it too. I didn't. I thought this game was a joke but I want you, pet." He reached between you and gripped his cock. He led it along your ass and leaned into you. "I want to feel you around me."

He slipped down along your entrance as his other hand fell to your pelvis. He pushed until you were forced to arch your back. His tip tickled your folds and he guided it with his fingers.

He rested the head of his cock there and pressed until you stretched around his tip. He gasped and you did too. You couldn't resist the ache in your walls that called for any relief. Even him. You pushed back onto him and took more.

He once more began to play with your clit as he eased himself into you. Little by little until he filled you entirely. His other hand trailed up your stomach and his fingers hooked over your shoulder as your spine curved to accommodate him.

"I want more than you, my pet. I want all of me in you." He pushed again and you moaned. You might've been at your limit but he wasn't. "I want to put my seed in you."

He thrust and groaned. He buried himself as deep as he could go and held himself there as you squirmed. He did it again and again and again until your body longed for the pain of it.

"I want to watch you grow, my pet. To see the life blossom inside of you," He rocked steadily into you. "Because of me. Because I willed it."

You reached back to touch his thighs. Wanting him to keep going and stop all at once. Your body was in turmoil. The battle within threatened to tear you in half.

"Tell me you want my seed," He sped up and the sound of his flesh and yours filled the room. "Tell me you want me."

"I…" You breathed between thrusts. "I...want...you."

The lie was easy if it meant you were closer. Closer to the end. Closer to release. You moaned as your walls clung to him.

He impaled you entirely, again he lingered in your warmth before starting again. This time harder and faster. He contorted your body to fit his and his hand wrapped around your throat.

"'I want you, my prince.'" He corrected, each word followed by a sharp thrust.

"I. Want. You. My. P-p-prince." You latched onto his wrist as you struggled to breathe.

He pounded into you, nearly taking you off the bed with each plunge. Your moans mingled with the slap of flesh on flesh and his groans were hot against your ear.

You came, a cry betrayed you, and he nipped at your ear. He relished your orgasm, an unwilling white flag as he chased another. You shook again in another flash of ecstasy and his grip tightened on your neck.

"Gods, oh my pet, I'm….oh."

You felt him cum. He filled you as he shuddered. He fucked his seed deep inside of you and didn't slow until he was out of breath. He let go of your throat and leaned on you until you were forced onto your stomach. He fell atop you, still inside of you.

"Oh, my pet," He wiggled his hips. "I think I might just keep you."

#loki #dark!loki #dark!loki x reader #dark loki #dark loki x reader #loki x reader #fic #thor #one shot #mcu #marvel #dark!fic #dark fic

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hashtagartistlife · 4 years

Text

this is a state of grace

; –this is a worthwhile fight. Fate pulls them apart, and fate brings them back together. If there is one thing Ichigo and Rukia know about their separations, it is that their reunions are always worth the wait.

the poems at the start of each chapter are not mine, but are from this post here. This has 4 chapters planned, one for each stanza, but I really don't know if I'll get around to finishing it since I have other fics that are higher on my priority list. Nevertheless, I've been holding onto this one chapter for so long that I figure it's time to send it off into the wild.

_________________________________________________________

“I missed you.”

you toss it to him,

unexpected,

but knowing he has the animal reflexes to

catch it. It’s half a joke,

half something else

and the way he looks at

you, means you both aren’t

ready to talk about it.

Ichigo doesn’t return to his human body immediately after the battle ends. Instead, he sits outside on the rooftop, his fingers lingering along his newfound black cladding like an afterthought; he watches the stars as he traces the armour snaking around his wrists and neck. There are a lot of people who want to see him, to speak to him—but he’s shunned them all for the moment, in favour of sitting outside in his shinigami form just a little longer. As though he is afraid that should he change back, the events of tonight will dissolve into a dream and he’ll wake up powerless once again.

Rukia doesn’t blame him. She knows exactly how he feels, the warmth of her reiryoku returned to her after months of its absence still clear as day in her mind. She remembers what it is like to feel hopeless and helpless, trapped in a body that was not meant for her, going through the motions of everyday life while constantly yearning for something beyond her reach. Shinigami are not complete without their zanpakutou by their side— are not much of anything at all without their power ringing through their veins and soaking through their souls.

Her power had trickled back to her in small streams, gradually and softly like a dam filling with rain, but even then her first brush against Sode no Shirayuki after her incarceration in Urahara’s gigai and the Senzaikyuu had been one of the most profound and relieving moments of her life. For Ichigo, she knows it will be that much more powerful, his reiryoku having been returned to him all at once (and in a distinctly ungentle manner). So it’s no surprise to her, really, that he has chosen to stay just a little longer in his Shinigami form, has chosen to sit outside where it’s quiet, all the better to feel his reiatsu swirl around him in a cloak so thick and heavy that she’s certain no Hollows will dare bother Karakura tonight.

She’s just three buildings away from him now, and already she can feel the pull of his reiatsu against hers, vital and alive. She hadn’t meant to seek him out when she and Renji had volunteered to scout the perimeters after Ginjou’s fall, to keep the area clear of Hollow complications while the rest of the party searched for stray Fullbringers, but somehow—like the first time, like every other time after that—she has ended up here anyway.

Some things are not like the first time, though. He’s taller, even when he’s sitting down. He’s broader. And though his back is to her, she knows his eyes will be older. A soldier’s eyes, a warrior’s eyes; not eyes you should see in the face of a seventeen-year-old.

She thinks, he’s grown up too soon.

She lands beside him like a star falling; beautiful and devastating all at once, graceful and assured. He doesn’t make any signs of acknowledgement, but his reiatsu shifts, warms and moves aside to create space for her next to him. She joins him in sitting, and his power envelops hers, settles around her like stardust. She closes her eyes and revels in the sensation.

“How are you?” he asks after a short silence, and she opens her eyes slowly; he is still looking at the sky, but his voice is warm and low.

“That should be my line,” she replies, because it should have been; he’s only seventeen, and he’s just killed a man. You always remember your first kill; you fold it away in the recesses of your heart and let it make or break you. Rukia will take the feeling of Kaien on the end of her sword to her grave. She knows Ichigo will see Ginjou’s last leer in his dreams till he dies.

“I’m fine,” he says lightly, “I’m fine,” repeats it for emphasis when her expression becomes skeptical. He turns to her with a hint of a smile in his eyes. “I’m fine.” The unspoken ‘now’ at the end isn’t lost on either of them. She studies him a moment, and decides he is telling the truth; he really is fine. Better. Whole.

And if that doesn’t speak volumes about how much he’s grown since the skinny, angry fifteen-year-old boy she stabbed with her sword two years prior, she doesn’t know what does. She takes back what she’d yelled at him in the heat of their reunion; he’s become resilient. Strong enough, and sure enough, to take on the world without her shouting directions into his ear. Which is both relieving, and a bit of a shame. She quite enjoyed the shouting at him part.

(Of course, just because the boy’s grown up a bit doesn’t mean he won’t still be an idiot on occasion. Just look at Renji. Perhaps her shouting days weren’t entirely past her after all.)

He must read some of her thoughts in the expression she turns to him, then, because he allows the mirth in his eyes to manifest into a smile—a half-smile, with a tinge of something bordering on sadness still, but a smile nonetheless. Rukia breathes.

“Your hair’s shorter,” he notes out of the blue, and his hand twitches, like he wants to bring it up and tug at her shorter strands.

“Yours is longer,” she counters, and unlike him she has no compunction about bringing her hand up and messing his windblown strands into a veritable disaster. Ichigo laughs as he tries to stop her, and she laughs too as she tries to continue, and somehow in between the reaching and the restraining and the hands around wrists, they topple over into a half-sprawled position, stargazing forgotten in favour of charting the small constellations of change scattered across the other’s person. Sideburns. Lieutenant’s badge. Black cladding. Gloves.

A melancholy that wasn’t there before in his steady gaze, and a loneliness that is different to the one she has always carried in hers.

“Does it hurt?” she blurts out, before her thought processes can quite catch up to the ache in her heart that causes her to ask this. “Does it hurt? Where I stabbed you?” Does it hurt, she wants to ask, the sadness in your eyes?

He stills beneath her, and without his larger frame supporting her precarious leaning, she has to abandon her attempts to reach his hair so she can prevent herself from collapsing on top of him. Her hands fall, and somehow both land on his chest; one off to the side, the other one directly over his sternum, where she had pierced him to transfer his powers back to him.

“No,” he says quietly, “not anymore.” Not anymore, he wants to reply, not now that you’re here.

They stare at each other for a heartbeat, the moment stretching into eternity; ah, but the things that stretch are always as fragile as the gap they bridge. A gust of wind chases a late autumn leaf into Rukia’s mouth, and the moment is broken. She splutters comically, sitting bolt upright to spit the offending plant out of her mouth, and Ichigo doubles up with laughter, rolling out from under her in helpless spasms across the cold concrete.

Ah, Rukia thinks, even as she scrunches her face up in mock outrage, this was better. This was something familiar in unfamiliar territory, and it gladdens her that no matter how many things change between them they will always have this. This easy dynamic that neither of them can find with anyone else, and this emboldens her just enough to throw out the words that have been on the tip of her tongue all evening.

“I missed you, you fool.”

The moment the words are out of her mouth, she wants to take them back; the tone is all wrong, too heavy, too full of an emotion she hadn’t meant to put into them (hadn’t realized she’d put into them). Ichigo’s eyes widen a fraction, the grin dying on his lips, and Rukia feels a detached sort of panic climbing up her throat; she was wrong, she was wrong, she had misjudged everything completely and there was nothing there to stop her plummeting headlong into the abyss—

Only, he sits up. His lips close and part soundlessly a few times, and a hand reaches out for her almost involuntarily. She offers him her wrist, and he curls his fingers around it, clamps down on it like a lifeline. He’s looking at her with the strangest expression on his face, somewhere between anguish and yearning, and her heart jolts.

“I—“ the word chokes in his throat, half-strangled, barely articulated. Very suddenly, he looks much younger than his seventeen years. “Rukia, you—“

Her other hand reaches up to rest against his temple, brushing back the soft, spiky hair there. He tenses for a split second, all his muscles locking in a soldier’s reaction to proximity, before his bones are liquid and he melts into her touch. He exhales shakily, turning his face into her palm; she feels the warm tip of his nose brush her hand. “Rukia, I—“

“Shh,” she croons, “It’s alright, Ichigo. It’s ok.” And it is, because she understands—they’ve always been good at this, this unspoken communication. And as much as things haven’t changed between them, she understands in that moment that something significant has. But she barely knows what it is and he—well. If the way he is shaking is anything to go by, he’s not ready for it either. So for now, this is enough. His shaky breaths against her, his fingers around her wrists, her hand on his hair; the two of them, under the stars.

Gradually, his breathing slows, evens; she makes to draw back, but his grip on her tightens. His other hand fetters her other wrist, keeping it against him. She can feel his warm exhalations on her skin and the tiny hairs on her arm stand on end.

“Wait,” he rasps, and the breath tickles on its way past, sends a shiver down her spine. His voice is calm, but there is an edge of a question to it, the tight, anticipatory tension before a reply.

“I know,” she says, heart in her throat. She’s not quite sure what it is that she knows, only that she does. “Ichigo, I know.”

He relaxes fractionally; he doesn’t let go of her wrists and neither does she attempt to take them away. There is something calmer in the air now, a feeling of something resolved, if only half-resolved. They will come back to it later.

They breathe together.

#bleach #ichiruki #kurosaki ichigo #kuchiki rukia #bleach fic #writer life

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sithsecrets · 4 years

Text

A Matter of Expediency - Part XII

After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

---

Part 12

4k words

Mentions: allusions to past/possible abuse, swearing, sad themes about pregnancy

---

Final preparations for your charity gala are done in the snow, puffy white flakes falling from an overcast sky as servants bustle about the Palgoduan castle. You oversee some of the goings-on, a bit tired from your fitful night’s sleep. Kylo is elsewhere, preoccupied with some Order business of a different sort, and you cannot help but feel a bit thankful. Though you’re in better spirits today, sadness lingers at your core, and the last thing you need right now is Kylo asking you if everything’s alright.

Queen Eleanor is by your side for most of the morning, holding her pregnant stomach as the two of you walk about together. She is so sweet, this Queen of Palgodu, but you still feel a pang of jealousy each time you lay eyes on her, on her children and her body. You ty very hard to do as Miriam told you, to not dwell on your empty, fruitless womb, but that’s easier said than done.

At midday, the Queen declares that she is practically starving to death, and she very graciously invites you to take lunch with her and the children. Your first impulse is to decline the invitation, your raw heart wanting nothing more than to avoid sad reminders of all that you do not have, but you force yourself to accept anyway. It wouldn’t do to appear rude, and this childish little self-pity party must come to an end sometime.

You eat in a small, informal dining room in the company of Princess Maudie, baby Eli, and the children’s nurse, Mya. The meal you’re served is rich and heavy, lots of hearty meats, cheeses, and winter vegetables. Queen Eleanor practically inhales a slab of red meat all on her own, eating ravenously in a way that makes you believe that she really was starving.

Princess Maudie takes great interest you as lunch carries on, regarding you curiously as she munches on bits of shredded meat and little slices of fruit.

“Who are you?” the little girl asks after a while, head cocked to one side as she stares you down from across the table.

“Maudie, we talked about this,” her mother chides. “This is the Empress of the galaxy.”

“You met her yesterday, darling,” Mya adds.

Maudie seems perplexed by this revelation, though she moves past it quickly. Her next inquiry centers around why you’re here, asking next where you live after you tell her about your charity work. After serval minutes of intense grilling, Queen Eleanor and Mya tell Maudie that that’s enough.

“Nonsense,” you declare, amused by the little girl’s line of questioning. She’s quite intrigued by the fact that you live on a ship in space all the time, and she wants to meet Kylo again since she, quote, “forgot about him, too.”

You’re in better spirits when you retreat back to your chambers, but rather tired. A nap would do you good before the party, you think, so you draw the curtains and climb into bed. Sleep comes easily, and it’s some time before you wake again.

The room is no different when you open your eyes, sunlight still trying in vain to seep in through the thick curtains you shut tight. Everything is dim and dark, just as it should be, but you’re no longer alone as you were when you lied down.

“Good afternoon,” Kylo murmurs, the pad of his thumb soft and warm on your cheek.

Snuggling against your husband’s touch, you give him a sleepy, loose smile. “It certainly is now.”

---

The merrymaking is well underway by sunset, everyone drinking and dancing and chattering happily as if none of you have a care in the world. Many important officials from around the galaxy are strewn about the room, your cause’s most generous benefactor by far. Others are around as well, of course, lesser nobles from Palgodu, a few choice friends. To your utter joy, Lydia, Helda, and Joon could all make it tonight, and you’re practically vibrating at the thought of seeing them again. Comm correspondence just isn’t the same, and you can’t wait to hear all about what’s been going on in their lives in person.

You and Kylo’s arrival is met with thunderous applause, though you’re thankful that you don’t have to formally receive any guests the way you did at your wedding reception. Nonetheless, you do a fair bit of schmoozing out on the floor, greeting ambassadors and generous benefactors alike as Kylo accompanies you. He’s quiet, letting you do all the talking, but the adoration in his eyes is not lost on you every time you look his way.

Joon finds you first, mercifully saving both you and your husband from a rather droll conversation with a couple of diplomats. Her approach is slow and deliberate, though smile on her face is wide.

“I was going to just run up and hug you,” Joon says, fitting the both of you together in an embrace, “but Nobi said that two Praetorian Reds would probably cave my head in before I could explain myself.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, squeezing your friend soundly. Even Kylo cracks a little smile, though it seems he doesn’t know quite how to act naturally in this situation.

Joon has much to tell you, talking your ear off as she whisks you away from the party’s main staging area. To your utter joy, Helda and Lydia are waiting for you off to the side, nursing drinks and talking idly until they see you approach. Their embraces are painfully and spectacularly familiar, warm in the way that true friendship should make one feel. Stars, you think you might cry as you look upon their faces, upon Lydia’s dark eyes and Helda’s red curls.

Poor Kylo is nothing more than an afterthought for a few minutes as you and Joon and Helda and Lydia all make over one another, chittering like birds and grinning like happy children. Only when he gently grasps your wrist do you remember yourself.

“I’m going to speak with Hux, darling,” Kylo tells you, bending down to press a kiss to your cheek. You feel bad then, expression melting into something apologetic and you twine your fingers together.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “you really don’t have to go.”

Unbothered, Kylo shakes his head. “I want you to speak freely with your friends. Find me in while, please.”

And with one last kiss on your face, your husband turns on his heel to leave, striding off in a dark swirl of cloak. You can feel eyes on your before you so much as turn back to face your friends, all of them no doubt about to tease you mercilessly.

“So that’s the galaxy’s biggest tyrant?” Joon muses, one eyebrow cocked. Helda’s grin is as sly as she can muster, and even Lydia seems pleasantly intrigued for once in her life.

“He’s not so bad,” you murmur, glancing over your shoulder at the back of Kylo’s retreating head.

“We’re glad to see that,” Lydia declares, the look in her eyes uncharacteristically soft.

There’s no more talk of Kylo after that, or of men in general, for the four of go out onto the dancefloor together. It’s just like old times again, you and your friends spinning and jumping and holding hands in time to the music, wisps of hair clinging to your flushed faces. And though it’s all great fun, you tire of the activity after a while, thirsty and a bit too sweaty for your liking under the thick fabric of your gown.

Helda and Joon split off from you and Lydia, both going in separate directions. It’s grown a bit late, Helda’s mother beckoning her away, Joon’s boyfriend missing her by his side. Lydia and yourself grab something refreshing to drink and head outside, warm despite the chill in the air. Neither of you says anything for a while, simply sipping out of your respective cups as the two of you take in the night.

You turn your gaze Lydia’s way, studying her face, the set of her shoulders. There’s something lighter about her, something… peaceful. As long as you’ve known Lydia, you’ve seen her happy or content, but at peace? Never, not once. It looks beautiful on her, truly.

“What’s happened to you?” you ask, words coming out of your mouth along with an icy puff of air.

Lydia turns to you, eyebrows narrowed, her own breath fogging before her face in the darkness. “What do you mean?”

“You seem different,” you explain, “like all the weight’s fallen off your heart.”

Lydia rolls her eyes at that bit of poetry, but the smile that creeps over her face is rather telling.

“I’m… I’m with someone now.”

A noise of surprise escapes your lips, uncontainable as a bolt of unbridled excitement shocks your chest. Lydia shies away from your exclamation, but you won’t let her off that easily.

“Who is he?” you demand, grabbing her arms now. “Where is he from? What does he do?”

“His name is Jacob, he’s from our planet, and he owns a manufacturing facility,” Lydia tells you, answering all of your questions in one go. “We met a couple of months ago at a harvest party in the country.”

“’Months,’” you breathe, though you can’t bring yourself to be angry at Lydia for not telling you about all of this until now. She’s so guarded, always has been— you’d be a fool for expecting anything less.

“I know,” Lydia concedes, speaking quietly. Some of the light in her eyes flickers for just a moment, jarring you from your euphoric state. “I wanted to be sure it would be different this time.”

You cup Lydia’s cheek then, willing her to stop thinking of that vile man you’re sure she’s seeing in her mind.

“Is he good to you?” you ask, because that’s all you care about. “I mean really good to you.”

And, as if someone flicked a switch, that soft, soft light is glowing in Lydia’s eyes again.

“Jacob is kind,” she tells you, “with his words and with his hands.”

You can’t help the tears that slip down your cheeks, hot reminders of how truly happy you are for this friend of yours. For Lydia, who deserves all of this and so much more.

“Well that’s good,” you begin, swiping at your cheeks, “because if he wasn’t, I’d have to have him executed.”

Lydia lets out a little laugh then, a real one, not one of the humorless barks that you’re much more accustomed to hearing. “I assure you he has no reason to tremble at your feet, Empress.”

It’s a jab, the emphasis Lydia puts on your title, but a playful one. You shove her for it still, rolling your eyes.

“If I remember correctly, you told me you’d help me become a runaway bride at my wedding reception, Lydia.”

The both of you break down into chuckles then, laughing at yourselves and at each other. And though it’s cold, though the wind is biting at your back through your bodice, you feel so very warm, wrapped in the company of an old friend.

“So when do I get to meet this Jacob?” you ask, locking arms with Lydia as the two of you retreat back into the warmth of the party. Your friend shrugs, as practical as ever.

“Well, if you’re willing to endure Princess Mila’s wedding—”

Your whole body shudders to a stop, your feet nearly tangling in your skirts as you take in that particular combination of words.

“Mila’s what?”

Lydia balks beside you, obviously taken aback by your surprise. “You didn’t know? Mila’s due to marry in a month. Your uncle arranged it, I’m sure, some nonsense about making mineral alliances. I can’t believe no one told you. Rumor has it that you and the Supreme Leader were to be invited.”

You’re not sure about all of that, given how you left things with your uncle and his children the night before your wedding, but the news itself is still… discomforting. Mila hasn’t shown you an ounce of kindness in years, but you know good and well what her father’s capable of. Stars, he sold you off without so much as a second thought, not caring what became of you once you were sent to live with Kylo. Everything worked out in your favor, but how were you, or him, or anybody else for that matter supposed to know that? Besides, you don’t think your uncle could get so lucky twice.

Lydia submits to a virtual interrogation right there in the middle of the party, giving up the name of Mila’s betrothed, the exact date of her wedding, and a few other pieces of information that are more gossip than confirmed fact. Apparently, most of the maids and the concubines are saying that your uncle’s selling Mila off to pay some of his gambling debts, the matter made even more sickening by the fact that her future husband is nearly as old as your uncle himself. The mere of idea of this makes your blood boil, for your marriage to Kylo bagged him similar benefits just earlier this year. And, to your horror, the man’s raised taxes on his people yet again without explanation.

Knowing your uncle, he’s taking every single credit and putting it right back on the card table. You knew he was a man who liked to have a good time, but fuck…

“I have to go speak to my husband,” you tell Lydia, pulling her into a quick hug before you start walking off. “Thank you, Lydia, really.”

Kylo is thrilled to see you, tucking you against his side with one strong arm as the officers around him bow. While the affection does make your heart bubble a bit, the anxiety you feel is much more pressing.

“May I speak with you?” you ask Kylo, praying that he senses your urgency.

Your husband takes you away at once, guiding you through the castle and back to your shared chambers without so much as a word of question. He listens intently as you tell him everything, rambling about Mila and your uncle and how the taxes on your planet’s people were already astronomically high to begin with.

“Do you have proof that he’s using the taxpayers’ credits to fund his lifestyle?” Kylo asks, coming to help you with the zipper on your dress. You shake your head as you slip your arms out of the sleeves, rushing to throw on something comfortable and warm.

“No,” you concede, “but I know how he is. When I came to live with him, I always wondered how he afforded the parties, and the women, and everything else that he fills his free time with. And it worries me that my uncle’s already angling to having his debts paid off again, especially at the expense of shipping Mila off to be with a man that he could have gone to school with. She’s supposed to be finishing her education, not helping him get out from under a bad habit.”

Kylo nods at that, though the look in his eyes expresses reservation. “My love,” he begins slowly, “why… why do you want to help your cousin? From what you’ve told me, she’s been awful to you all your life, and I certainly didn’t like what I saw of her at our rehearsal dinner.”

It’s a good question, and a hard one to answer at that. Kylo lets you think for a moment, pulling together some night clothes to wear to bed in the meantime.

“I want to help her because… because my uncle won’t live forever, and it’s not like he’s doing a good job of ruling as it is. My uncle may be impulsive, but he’s not stupid. Sebastian couldn’t pour water out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel, and Tensin is no better. Mila, though… Mila is cruel, but her wit is sharp. Without her working behind her brothers, the planet’s fucked.”

You pause for a minute, a bit irritated by your more sentimental feelings now.

“And, as a woman, I can’t send her off to marry that man. He’s old enough to be her father, and you know how all of those Valderan mineral barons are. I worry about what would become of her, what he would make her do…” You picture Lydia’s sad eyes, and something in your chest clenches. “Mila may be awful, but I can’t sell her out like that, not for my uncle’s bullshit. I remember how afraid I was when we got engaged, how much I feared not being able to please you.”

Kylo’s hand is warm on your face, the back of his fingers stroking over the curve of your cheek. You press into the touch, taking his hand in both of your own.

“But of course, all of my worrying was for naught because you’re more loving and gentle than I could have ever imagined. You respect me, and you want me to be happy, but I have a feeling that that’s not how Mila’s husband will feel.”

“If you think something must be done, then by all means, step in. I’ll have a ship prepared for you tomorrow at once.”

The both of you go to get in bed, more to relax than to lie down the night.

“No,” you say, waving Kylo off, “let me do some digging first. I want to be sure I’m right before I go off and make a big fuss at home.”

---

You’re back on the Supremacy by late afternoon, anxious to get to the bottom of all of this. Hux, ever the good friend, briefs the Board of Charitable Affairs for you, allowing you time to hole up in your office for most of the day.

You pore over financial documents, intel from First Order informants, and numerous reports, looking for discrepancies or abnormalities in your home planets spending and accounts. It’s no surprise to find that your uncle’s run up a long list of expenses, many of which are listed as “miscellaneous” or “personal”— or, to the layperson, stimulants and whores. However, no one’s cooking the books. It appears as though every credit is accounted for, every tax dollar where it should be— the money’s just being spent like it’s in the hands of a child. With everything correct (in an extremely technical sense) on your uncle’s end, you move on to Mila’s fiancé, a nagging feeling in your gut telling you that he warrants investigation.

Tarlak Tu’Iuni is middle-aged, decent-looking, and filthily, disgustingly rich. Mineral money, naturally, seeing that he was born and raised on Valdera. He’s never been married before Mila, but he has a couple of illegitimate daughters that he seems to care for in some capacity. However, Tarlak’s personal life matters little to you. It’s always the money with the mineral barons; they can be perfectly good people in their personal lives— real upstanding citizens, even— but they just cannot keep their accounts straight to save their lives. They always want a little extra, they’re always moving money around… Lets just say that paying taxes and being frugal are two things that do not come easily to the Vaderan elite.

But, well— you’re the Empress of the Known Galaxy. For every slick accountant a mineral baron like Tarlak Tu’Iuni has in his corner, you have five even slicker financial investigators in yours.

Your team comes to you with a report in a matter of hours, and you nearly fall down when you learn of their findings.

“You’re absolutely sure?” you ask the woman before you, clutching onto the datapad in your hands for dear life.

“We triple checked all of the transactions. These people are good, I must admit,” she affirms, shaking her. “This is the sort of fraud you have to really look for. I’m not surprised we weren’t tipped off until you made us start looking for inconsistencies.”

You blow out a huge breath, anxious and enraged all at once as you scroll through the numbers. Your companion’s right— even laid out plainly this way, most it seems legit.

“Would you like me to contact the Guard?”

“No,” you tell the woman, though you’re grateful for her loyalty and sense of urgency. “Tell no one of this. I’ll handle it.”

“Yes, Empress.”

And then you and your bearer of bad news are going your separate ways, she to brief the team on your wishes and you to find your husband.

It’s later than you’d realized, the intensity of your work sapping away time with little effort. The ship’s night cycle is well underway, guard shifts down to barebones personnel, most corridors empty and quiet.

Kylo is with his nights, just as you suspected, the lot of them stowed away in a dark corner of the ship that they like to frequent. Each one rises to their feet upon seeing you, the Knights bowing in respect as your husband comes to greet you.

“She’s been skimming off of the charity accounts,” you declare, holding out the datapad for Kylo to take before he can so much as say hello. “Her and all her fucking friends on Valdera. Mila’s fiancé is going to essentially paying off my uncle’s debts with money he and Chairwoman Evan stole from the Palgoduan donations and a couple of lesser projects in the Outer Rim. Millions of fucking credits, Kylo! Millions! And that’s just recently!”

You don’t mean to shout, but rage is hot in your veins now. Kylo looks horrified and bewildered all at the same time, scrolling through the information you’ve given him quickly. Not two seconds later, the air seems to crackle all around you, lights flickering under the influence of Kylo’s powers.

“Is your uncle in on this?” he asks you, eyes dark and wild as he regards you. The Knights stand at attention now, waiting for orders, waiting to be sent off for an attack.

“No,” you scoff, waving your hand flippantly. “They’d be stupid to involve someone like him in this. This is inside shit, crime committed amongst a tight-knit group of intelligent people. I wasn’t even looking for something like this, my team found it when I had them doublecheck Tarlak’s accounts.”

“It’s a good thing you did,” Kylo says, trying to stay calm even though you know an outburst is bubbling up inside him. His fist is tight at his side, shoulders tense and taunt. And the energy in the room… You’re just grateful he isn’t angry at you.

Finally, your husband hands the datapad back.

“We’ll deal with this issue at once,” he declares, and the Knights are ready to follow him out of the room without so much as a cue, the lot of them already grabbing for weapons and tools of destruction.

“Kylo,” you cut, stepping into his path. “Kylo, my love, let’s talk about this first.”

“That bitch stole money from the Order,” he spits, murder in his eyes. “All of those credits are for food, and medicine, and schools—”

“I know that, my love,” you soothe, though a fresh wave of rage does sweep through your insides at the notion of one of your subjects going hungry so that Evan and her cronies can play another hand of cards. “But we have an opportunity to make a statement here. Gutting Evan in her quarters may be satisfying now, but why not put let everyone else see what happens when they try to steal from the Order? Why not show the galaxy that we’re in control, that no one can just get away with things like this?”

Kylo draws in a shaky breath.

“I will have the offenders arrested at once. They shall be executed on a live broadcast tomorrow afternoon.”

You nod at that, satisfied with the statement. Still, you know your husband well.

“Well,” you begin, smoothing down the front of his shirt, pulling a few pieces of hair out of his face, “I never said all of them had to be executed publicly— just the important ones.”

Kylo’s hands come to rest on your hips, his grip tight on your body. Feigning innocence, you begin caressing his cheek in lazy, slow strokes.

“I also think it would be wise if we got a few of the main players to confess. You know, just so no one thinks we’re making this up. I’m sure you and the Knights could handle that, right, darling?”

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #ame #my writing

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stupendousaestheticfoodrascal · 3 years

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The Call of the Dark

“She’s beautiful, don't you think?”, said the stout man. His face was pale, but not the kind of paleness you see when someone is ill. It was the kind of pale a person obtains naturally, as though from birth. Despite his paleness, his face shone bright and somehow the very prominent freckles on his face became even more visible, there was a faint twinkle in his eyes, and if you didn't pay attention, even for a second, you would miss it. With the way he looked, you would guess he had just won the lottery. “I met her at this very coffee shop a few months ago and we really hit it off! I never thought I would find someone who was into a lot of the stuff I liked, well excluding you of course”.

He looked right at me, to make sure what he said hadn't made me upset. It didn't of course, but he didn't need to know that. “Oh how miserable I am, to find out my good friend Chase has found another, and now I will be left all on my own to deal with my sorrows”, I spoke, with just a hint of mischief in my voice. He certainly did not find it funny but I found it to be hilarious, to the point I burst out laughing, something I hadn’t done in a long time. Before I knew it, Chase had joined in on the laughter and whatever tension was present had cleared from the air. “It really is nice to see you again and I’m glad you’ve finally found your special someone”. A light pink dusted his cheeks at what I assumed to be my little comment. “Enough about me, I want to know what’s going on with you Mr. Mysterious”.

I had taken note of the newly designated nickname, although I knew the reasoning behind it. “I can’t say a lot really happened, my life isn't exactly thrilling”. I took a sip of my coffee, it was caramel macchiato, my favourite, her favourite. I shook my head to get rid of the thought and instead took in the familiar view of the shop. It was rather small, and not heavily decorated except for a few advertisement posters plastered on the wall, the top half of the wall was a deep brown colour (rather typical for a coffee shop) while the lower bottom of the walls were plain white.

There were five circular spruce wood tables each with two chairs at the centre of the shop while the corners were occupied by booth tables for anyone who might decide to have coffee with a large group of friends. On the opposite side of the shop was the counter, where people got their orders. The counter itself was coloured just like the wall, white and brown, except they chose to incorporate the colour white as the name of the shop ‘Latte Love’. I had always made it a point to mention it to everyone I knew that I never liked that name, there really was nothing to love about their latte’s. Even with all my complaints, I still managed to come to this coffee shop every morning at the same time, to order the same drink. I turned my head as I noticed something unfamiliar had caught my attention.

A looming shadow stood at the corner of the shop. I couldn’t quite make out it’s figure but it looked and felt like pure darkness, emphasis on felt. The figure began to step closer to me and the closer it came, the more I could feel it trying to consume me. I was called out of my state by a question from the man sitting in front of me. “Earth to Malcolm, I said do you plan on coming to the game tonight?”, he said while waving a hand in front of me. “Yeah sure”, I said, while not knowing what he was referring to. “Great! I think this is a great time for you to finally meet her!”. Her? The confusion was clear on my face, evident by the question he followed up with, “Oh no, don't tell me you forgot”, he said, disappointment clearly laced in his tone.

“No?” “I set you up to meet a lady friend of mine, we agreed that you guys would meet at the game this Saturday?” “WHAT?” “What do you mean ‘what’, you totally agreed to this?!” “I have no memory of anything of the sorts”, I huffed. “Well it doesn’t matter now because you HAVE to go. My friend already expects you to be there and I can't have her thinking ``I'm friends with a jerk” “Well I don’t care what your friend thinks” ''Come on, it’s just this time, maybe try out your luck? If you don't like her then you don’t have to see her again, what do you have to lose?” “Fine, I’ll go, but I'm not promising anything” “Great dude! Make sure to come at 2pm, not a moment later” “Yeah yeah”.

I woke up to an intense pounding in my head, stretching down towards the upper nape of my neck. It felt like a hammer had somehow found its way to my skull in the middle of the night and unleashed all its fury on my poor unsuspecting head. This pain was something I had become familiar with as of late. It happened again. I had the dream again. After having this happen to me for two months straight, it had become something I was used to. I just casually went about most of my days with a nausea inducing headache. Although this headache was particularly fearsome, I knew the reason why.

I had gone on a different route after my little meet up with Chase at the coffee shop. What I hadn't realised was that this new path was not new at all. It was very familiar but I couldn’t reason as to why I felt it was. It was of no importance now, I had to get ready for the game, for my date. It was going to be particularly difficult pretending I was excited to be there, especially with a splitting headache. I had already planned how I was going to break it off. I would tell her how great a time I had but say I wasn't looking for anything right now or something like that.

It didn’t really matter what I said as long as she understood that I wasn't interested. I stood up from my messy bright yellow twin bed. It was ironic really, that someone as miserable as me would own something that was often seen as a symbol of joy. I looked at myself in the mirror right across from my bed. I looked… awful. I had refrained from looking at myself in the mirror and now I remembered why. I was a tidy person by nature but in recent times I had neglected myself, and it was… evident. My thick, black, tightly curled hair was dreadfully matted from the lack of combing. I had also developed a bushy beard and a subtle mustache. My skin was ashy and my lips were cracked, it was getting colder, no surprise as winter was just around the corner.

I hadn’t been to the gym in months and whatever sign of being fit I had, was nowhere to be seen. In other words I had gained a considerable amount of weight. My eyes looked drained and tired and the bags under them looked more prominent than ever. I knew that if I was going to be meeting someone new, even if I wasn’t interested in keeping ties, that I had to look decent. I tidied myself up and got dressed. I chose to wear a plain blue shirt and some trousers. I didn’t feel the need to dress up since it was just a ball game. It was 1:30pm and I needed to be on my way. The sooner I got there the sooner I could hopefully leave. I got into my very run down red Toyota and made my way to the game. Thoughts were swirling in my head, memories were resurfacing, but I shoved them all down as I parked my car. I took a deep breath and made my way to the game.

I saw Chase, his girlfriend and someone else sitting next to him, the person I assumed to be his friend. She sat nervously, darting her eyes from one direction to another, until her eyes finally settled on me, I flinched as I realised we made eye contact. I waved nervously and she waved back, just as nervous. But what I couldn’t understand was why I was nervous. That didn’t matter, I had a plan and I had to stick to it. I walked up to the bleachers where the other baseball enthusiasts sat, making sure not to sit too close to the girl. I didn’t want to send the wrong message. “Hi, I’m Anne, nice to meet you”, she said. “It’s my first time going on a date in a long time, I’m kind of nervous”. “Interesting, so she’s more or less in the same situation as me”, I whispered. “Well, I’m Malcolm and it’s nice to meet you too”, I said with a slightly forced smile.

The announcer made note of the start of the game, if there was something I had observed from coming here it was that the girl, Anne, was a very big sport enthusiast and other than that she was… pretty. Although I had acknowledged I wanted there to be nothing between us, it would be silly to deny that fact. She was rather short compared to me, this I knew from whenever she would jolt up from her seat at a moment of intensity in the game. She was dark skinned, just like me and had long thick afro hair neatly bunched to the back allowing you to see her face. She was well built but more on the slim side. Her eyes were the most prominent part of her face, they were big and full of emotion, and the emotion right at that moment was excitement.

The team she was rooting for was on their way to victory with only a few minutes of the game left, they had the victory in the palm of their hands. One advantage of having a date at a baseball game with someone who is passionate about the sport is that you don't have to bother with talking to the other person, they just do their own thing and you do yours. She was so captivated by the game it was like she had forgotten she was actually here on a date with me, she would occasionally sneak in a few questions on what I thought of the game. I always gave a brief simple answer and she would go back to being completely engrossed in the game. I admitted it was nice not having to feel inclined to respond, or having to fill in the silence when no one was saying anything.

The game finally came to an end and people began leaving the stadium. I rehearsed my lines ready to tell her I wasn’t interested but to my surprise she turned to me and spoke right before I could get a word out. “Look, you're probably a great guy and I had a great time but I don’t think I’m really interested in you that way, no hard feelings?”. An unlikely turn of events, the girl I was supposed to let down easy was the one turning me down? It offered an easy way out but I would have preferred if I wasn’t on the receiving end of a ‘rejection’. “That’s fine, I actually feel the same way, I’m honestly glad you said that, I didn’t want to have to hurt your feelings or anything” “I’m glad we agree, I think it’s about time I leave, it was nice meeting you Malcolm” “You too”.

There it was again, that feeling of familiarity, like this exact thing or something familiar had happened to me. I could feel a wave of emotion re-surfacing from the depths of my being. I saw the dark figure again, standing next to the bleachers, this time just staring at me, as if to try and tell me something. And then I remembered.

Laughter. We were on our way back from a restaurant, it had gone great. I was going to propose, I wanted it to be private, just the two of us. We headed down an alleyway. Bang Bang. We heard it and tried to run. Bang Bang.

The sound was getting closer, I was terrified something horrible would happen and more so to her. We made it to the end of the alleyway but they cornered us, they said they couldn’t let us go. I tried to take them down but they threatened to shoot. And they did, but not me. They shot her instead, there was a lot of blood, I was mortified, police sirens were blaring, the shooter and his accomplice ran away. I tried to get help but no one was listening, they were too focused on the criminal. She died in my arms. It wasn’t fair. I could feel all the emotions of that day resurfacing, I had to leave as soon as possible. I couldn't be here. I rushed to my car and sped home. I rushed inside and rummaged around for my meds, I fumbled around for the container, I found it, although I had trouble opening it because I was trembling. I opened the cap and dumped the meds into my hand, I took them, more than I should have, I didn’t care. I just didn’t want to feel this anymore. And soon enough, the drugs started taking effect and I started to feel better, although I could still see the mysterious shadow at the corner of my room, it didn’t do anything, it didn’t even try to approach me, almost like it couldn’t. As long as it didn’t do anything I didn’t have a problem. It would either leave on its own or I would get used to it. I collapsed on my bed and let out a heavy sigh. The day didn’t go horribly but it wasn’t great either. I had almost had a meltdown in front of a lot of people, something I would much prefer to avoid. I needed to get rest, I had work in the morning and it would be better if I could actually function when I got there.

I could see the faint shimmer of the sun peeking through my window. It was morning and I hadn’t slept a wink. I couldn’t sleep, less because of the fact that I had overdosed on my meds and more because the mysterious shadow hadn’t left me since the day at the ball game. I got up and began to get ready for work. It was obvious I hadn’t slept, both visually and from the way I felt. I could hardly move and I looked half-dead. I just hoped my boss wouldn’t cause a fuss as I believed I could still get work done, but probably at a slower pace and a few mistakes here and there. As an accountant, mistakes aren’t exactly welcome and neither is wasting time but I'm sure I could survive a day of scolding from my boss.

“You’re fired!”. The door to the office slammed shut and I stood there, dumbfounded. I didn’t have a job anymore. According to my boss, I wasn’t working at company standard anymore and I had caused a lot of losses with my mistakes. I had figured he would be angry but I never expected to have gotten fired. Then it dawned on me, my mother. How was I going to pay for her meds if I didn’t have a job? It felt like my world was spiraling into some horrible dark abyss of despair. She was all I had left and the thought of losing her was too much for me to handle. Soon enough I wouldn’t be able to cover rent, and I would get kicked out, my mother would get horribly sick and it would all be over for me and her. I was panicking to say the least. I tried to regain my composure, at least until I was in the privacy of my home. I needed to find a job fast. I made my way back home and slumped on my bed. Ding. A message from my phone, my mum asking me to send money for this week's meds. I had to send her some money from my emergency funds, I really needed to get searching. I looked at the corner of my room and sure enough it was there, but it seemed to have gotten larger and more terrifying. Great, another thing I had to deal with, well not really, since it wasn’t exactly doing anything.

Weeks had gone by, I had tried everything but I couldn’t find another job. Mum was getting worse, she didn’t have her meds anymore and her illness was catching up to her. I knew she didn’t have much time so I tried to see her, but she didn’t want me anywhere near her. She didn’t want me to see her so sick and I’m sure she wouldn’t be thrilled to see me looking so unlively right now. All my friends were getting worried, I hadn’t spoken to anyone in weeks and they wanted to make sure I was okay. I couldn’t tell them the truth, they would fuss over it, or they wouldn’t understand and I couldn’t lie to them either, they didn’t deserve that. It was easier to just cut off all ties. Yes. The only company I had was the looming shadow. Over the past few weeks I had almost grown to like its presence. It was comforting in a way, just having it stand there and watch me, it never approached me, something I preferred, never asked me questions, never worried about me, just stared at me and I liked it that way. I had also stopped taking my medication as they had run out so maybe that was another contributing factor. I talked to the figure occasionally, it was the shadow that told me to stop talking to my friends, anytime it had something it wanted me to do, it wouldn’t stop repeating it until I did what it said, so as long as I listened it didn’t annoy me much. It had tried and succeeded to hurt me a few times but I never complained. I didn’t want it to leave so I never said anything that might cause it to depart from me. It would soon be just the two of us.

I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing, I didn’t think I would receive calls anymore after I had pretty much cut off connections with my friends. I looked at my phone and saw that it was an unknown number. I cut the call but they kept persisting, I reluctantly answered the call. “Who is this, and why are you bothering me” “Is this Malcom Forman?” “Yes, now what do you want?!” “I’m sorry to inform you that your mother passed away a few hours ago in her sleep” “Oh… thank you for calling me, goodbye”. I cried. Even though I knew it would happen eventually, I still cried, I couldn’t - no I wouldn’t believe it was possible. I had failed my mother, my friends, myself. I was worthless. Even through my tears I could still see the shadow, it didn’t even have a face but it almost looked as though it was… smiling? I certainly hadn’t said anything funny. I was so intrigued by it that I had stopped crying.

I stopped to look at the mysterious creature. Whatever smile was present had vanished. The creature came closer to me, but the air around it felt different. Every fibre of my being told me to run but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to run. I sat on my bed as it slowly approached me, until everything around me was enveloped in darkness. There was nothing else there, even the mysterious shadow creature was gone. If you think about it, it's rather poetic. My life just like everyone else's began in darkness and now it ends with darkness once again.

#my first official post straight from my brain #this is bad but I needed to put this somewhere #feel free to critisize #its also kind of long but that might just be me #i hope at least one person sees this

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bjy-on-ao3 · 4 years

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Kinktober Day 25

(As before, you can find a link to the AO3 version of this and the rest of my Kinktober 2020 prompts on the ‘Masterlist’ section of the blog.)

Second entry with Dojima, though this was the first one he was marked down for when I was originally assigning characters to prompts. I don’t think I generally characterize Dojima as being a super rough guy. He seems like he’s intimidating but really a teddy bear for the people he cares about, so I guess I lean into that a little and go with a more passionate rough than an aggressive/mean rough.

Kinktober Day 25: Against A Wall (Ryotaro Dojima | Persona 4)

For once things had fallen into place and Dojima would have his home to himself, the others who lived with him away or spending time at a friend’s home for the night. You had leaped on the opportunity to keep him company while the house was empty. Too often he was busy with work, exhausted afterward, and beyond that, he had his daughter to take care of. He didn’t have a lot of spare time and you didn’t begrudge him for it. If anything, it only made you treasure the time alone you were able to have.

Plans had been made cheerfully, anticipation buzzing through your skull immediately. You almost could have reprimanded yourself for just how giddy it made you feel - as if you some naive, bubbly high schooler again. You wondered if Dojima was as excited as you, but was just better at keeping a stoic face.

You arrived in mid-evening with the fixings to prepare dinner for the both of you, along with a little bit of liquid courage to loosen you both up. Not that either of you really needed it, but it added to the relaxed atmosphere well enough.

Soon enough, you sat eating, laughing, and drinking, exchanging tidbits about one another’s days past and a bit of flirting. When the food was gone and your drinks empty, both sporting a pleasant buzz, the flirting escalated. Coy remarks and fleeting touches turned into passionate, slow kisses and heavy, full caresses. You found yourself pinned to the couch and reveling in every second of it, fingers wrapped around Dojima’s biceps as he braced himself on either side of you.

Each sensation stoked the excitement and lust bubbling in your core, from the taste of the alcohol on his tongue to the sultry heat of his body through his clothes to the heavy press of his broad frame weighing you down. The layers separating you were maddening from the beginning and became more so with each sensual touch.

You weren’t sure how long you lay on the sofa, any sense of time melting away as you lost yourself in your lover. All you knew was at one point you broke apart and Dojima sat up, your legs splayed on either side of his hips. His eyes looked as hungry and fiery as you felt, swirling pools of fierce, wanton grey. Though you had little time to appreciate the lustful look on his face or question why he had pulled away. In a smooth motion, he hooked your legs around his waist, tucking his hands beneath you, and stood, lifting you along with him.

The change in position startled you at first and you squeezed your legs tighter around him, your arms flying forward to curl around his neck. With another quick kiss, Dojima made his way to the bedroom with you clinging firmly to him, though a bit less desperately after being reassured you weren’t going to fall.

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Your back hit the wall with a solid knock and you winced at the dull ache. You had little want or mind to dwell on minor pain, far more interested in Dojima as he pinned you tightly against the wall of his bedroom. He had forgotten to draw the curtains in his room, though it was late enough the only thing that peered in was the moon, washing you both in white and silver. There was no worry anyone would get a glimpse of you through the window pane.

Your legs remained looped around Dojima’s waist, his broad hands cupped beneath your ass adding more support. You eagerly dove back into his kiss, the brief intermission between the living room and the bedroom doing nothing to dampen your hunger. You clung to whatever you could reach: the collar of his shirt, his tie, his shoulders, anything to hang on and pull him closer and keep him there. The longing had been bottled up far too long, sustained by short phone conversations or fleeting kisses in Dojima’s limited time. It was no surprise it should all burst out so explosively.

When at last your lips were swollen and you thought you might become light-headed from lack of air, Dojima tore away from the kiss. In a brief moment, you locked eyes again, momentarily awed by the intensity. The spell was quickly broken and Dojima tipped his head forward, scattering sloppy, hot kisses over your neck, stopped only by your neckline. His tongue trailed along the line of your neck until he found your pulse thrumming wildly and nipped at it. He wrapped his mouth around the spot, proceeding to suck a dark mark into your skin and elicit a squeak from you that became a whimper halfway through.

He didn’t stop at one lurid mark, swept up in the moment, leaving several more across your throat and the hard line of your collar bone peeking out from your shirt. His stubble rasped over each bruise-to-be, tickling and teasing the skin more You breathed his name weakly, letting your head fall back against the wall and granting him easier access. His groped greedily at your asscheeks and pinned you more securely against the wall. You laced a hand in his black hair, tugging at the short strands.

Applying more pressure to his hips, Dojima shifted a hand from your ass to your shirt, working the buttons undone with surprising ease. You had purposefully gone without a bra that evening - or panties for that matter - knowing it would only get in the way later on. He didn’t question your lack of undergarments, palming a breast feverishly. His grey gaze flickered up and he felt himself grow harder at the expression of pleasure drawn across your features. He licked his lips impatiently and tilted his head forward again, drawing you into another heated kiss.

You groaned into the kiss, hips bucking involuntarily against his at an extra sharp squeeze to one tit. You released your fistful of hair, wiggling your arms out of your shirt until only the pressure of your body kept it hanging on. Dojima adjusted his hold and the shirt slid away completely to be forgotten in the moonlit room.

Dojima pulled away, pausing to gaze appreciatively at the sight before him. Bare from the waist up, cheeks aglow in the silvery moonlit and painted by a hot flush, he couldn’t help but color himself lucky. “Beautiful,” he whispered affectionately into the shell of your ear, his tone husky and longing.

Your blush intensified at his praise, for an instant unable to hold his gaze. Then the tender moment was over and he returned to ravishing you, whispering more short praises in between. Deciding it was unfair you were the only one undressing, you wrapped your fingers around his tie, jerking it from its clip and impatiently slipping it out of its knot. You thrust the tie aside before greedily moving onto his shirt, sliding each button free and pushing the material off his shoulders. You happily took in the broad shoulders and chest revealed to you, running one hand through the swirl of dark hair there. You trailed your hand down slowly, feeling his skin flinch away reflexively from your light touch until you were toying with the waistband of his slacks.

Eventually, he eased you down to your feet to let his shirt drop away and unbutton and tug off your pants. You returned the favor, hungrily undoing the catch of his slacks and pushing them down with his underwear. You licked your lips at the sight of his thick, eager cock and your pussy throbbed as your lust surged. Your panties had already begun to cling to the lips of your leaking cunt, though now you worried your arousal might seep through and down your thighs.

He pushed his hips back into yours, rubbing his cock along your soaked underwear, the swollen head brushing again your clit and making you whimper needily. “Don’t tease me,” you whined when he pulled back.

Impatience growing, you slipped your panties off as well, longing for a closer touch. When they hit the floor, Dojima wrapped a hand around your thigh, hiking it back up around his waist and reinforcing the closeness between you. You gladly hooked the leg around his waist, and then the other, once again supported by his rough hands on your ass.

You leaned forward, swapping roles and attacking his jawline and throat, eager to show your passion instead of just receiving his. He hummed, a pleased, guttural sound deep in his throat that made you shiver. “Dojima, please,” you entreated seductively, brushing your lips against his ear and dragging your tongue along the lobe.

With another low noise and a bit of searching, he drove forward, his cock sinking inside and granting you a sensation of fullness, accompanied by the delicious ache of being split open. You buried your head in his neck, kissing his flushed skin, mumbling unintelligible nonsense. “Mm, don’t go easy on me,” you purred, your voice half-muffled as you ground against him, trying to encourage him to move.

You felt a small laugh roll through Dojima’s chest, but he obliged, easing out and driving back home rough enough to make you groan into his neck. You pulled your face from the crook of his neck, meeting his lips again and drowning yourself in him as he moved into a hard, steady pace. He shifted his grip again, angling his hips until he was stroking a spot that had you writhing and clawing at his shoulders, moving from his mouth to cry out.

Already heavy, the air felt suddenly so much thicker, hotter, each rock of his hips making your breath come in short puffs, broken by steadily rising cries and answering, gruff groans from Dojima. Each plunge back inside set your body further on edge, your walls clenching around his cock as if reluctant to let him go. Unwinding one arm from his back, you moved you hand between the tight press of your bodies, clumsily stroking between your legs for the final push you needed.

Your heart pounding and sweat beading on your skin, your cunt squeezing even tighter around him, Dojima dipped his head, growling in your ear. “Shit, I’m gonna cum, I can’t hold it anymore.”

The pitch of his hips, the stroke of your fingers, the sweltering heat of his body, and the gravelly, husky words in your ear were just the right blend to make your body shake in climax. You moaned and chanted his name, again and again, head thrashing against the unyielding wall behind you, rolling your hips into his. In almost the same moment, Dojima followed, hips jerking erratically until they tapered into several long, hard, stuttered thrusts while he pumped you full of his cum.

You came to your senses, slowly, gradually more aware of the slick of sweat that covered your bodies and how heavily your chest rose and fell, blood drumming in your ears. Dojima lay his head beside yours on one shoulder, huffing hotly into your skin, hands holding your backside in an iron grip. But though you felt sweaty and exhausted, releasing all the pent up desire and longing left you thoroughly satisfied.

After a moment of recovery, Dojima relocated the two of you to his bed. He continued to hold you as close, arms shifting to twine around your waist and back. You tucked your head beneath his chin, enjoying the slowly settling thrum of his pulse and his breath. You imagined the passion wasn’t completely spent for the night, but it was certainly a good start.

#kinktober #kinktober 2020 #kinktober day 25 #day 25 #day twenty-five #ryotaro dojima #dojima ryotaro #persona 4 #p4 #writing #fandom #ao3 #archive of our own #fic #fanfic #fanfiction

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wlw-imagines-blog · 5 years

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Just Good Business (Modern!Peggy Carter x Modern!Fem!Reader)

Anon asked: Hi love! First, thank you so much for the Peggy shot... my heart it's so happy... second, can I pick numbers 1, 2 & 7 from the PROMP list #1, with Peggy, but Modern Life!AU? bc my queer ass needs modern Life Peggy Carter... Thanks love

Prompts:

1 - “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

2 - “Please don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you cry”

7 - “I hate how much I love you”

Summary: Corporate/CEO au, This is less fluff, more angst and heartache. Ex-lovers fall in love.

Warnings: Some behavior alluding to dom/sub themes, ambiguous ending.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Thank you for the lovely comment! This is hornier than I expected, sorry.

Corporate galas were always the worst. Hosting them was a special punishment.

Wearing tight dress clothes and slicking every hair down, just to schmooze a bunch of greedy business men with too-realistic hair and too-orange spray tans. This wasn’t your forte, but necessary evil if you wanted your company to stay current and work with other businesses.

The room was filled with the thick scent of perfume and alcohol. Chatter and music flowed freely as you held court at your table near the front of the stage.

“Make sure to tell me when the Prince of Wakanda gets here,” you said to Peter, one of your personal assistants. “I want to be the first one to greet him. Stephen Strange said he was going to be late, so don’t give him a hard time at the door. And someone make sure Tony Stark never sees Justin Hammer; I don’t want either of them to make a scene.”

“Don’t worry,” Pepper Potts was seated to your left. She was going through the guest list, just like you. “I’ve already told Tony to behave tonight.”

You downed your cocktail. “I’m sure he will. Honestly, I’m more worried about Hammer.”

The whole table chuckled.

“I can’t believe I want to leave my own party,” you whispered to your executive assistant, Natasha. “I must be doing something wrong.”

She frowned, looking at your now empty glass. “I can get you another drink, but that’s about all I can do to help.”

You shrugged, gesturing to keep the cocktails coming. At least the drinks dulled the pain.

Just as she disappeared, Peter got your attention. “Ma’am? We have a bit of a problem.” He pressed a finger to his ear piece. “Wanda requested your presence at the front door. There’s some sort of issue with the guest list.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Parker?”

“Um, someone is asking for you.”

You raised an eyebrow before standing. “Alright. Fine. Tell Miss Romanoff where I am.”

You maneuvered around dancing couples and astonishingly drunk men to the entrance of the ballroom. Clint, the head of your security detail was standing back while Wanda stared wide eye at the trouble-causing guest.

“What seems to be the problem, Miss Maximoff?”

She looked up from her tablet, clearly frazzled. “Ma’am, there’s someone here, claiming that they’re suppose to be on the list, but I have no record of them, whatsoever...”

You turned to look at the offender, eyes widening when you recognized her.

Margaret Carter.

Peggy.

Owner of some massive airline over the sea, heiress, and millionaire. A fashion icon, and icon for entrepreneurial women everywhere.

You swallowed, hands suddenly clammy.

Peggy’s eyes bore into you, raking hungrily over your form. Her luxuriously red lips twisted into a smile.

“It’s okay, Wanda,” you were embarrassed at how shaky your voice was. “She’s with me.”

“Ma’am?” Wanda blinked uncertainly.

Clint rested a hand on your shoulder. “Is everything okay, Miss Y/L/N?”

You nodded, managing an effortless smile. “I’m fine, Barton. Let her through.”

Peggy glided by, long red dress floating around her. It was slinky and off the shoulder, with a long slit that revealed a slender leg. She hadn’t changed a day. Her hair was still dark and perfectly curled, no wrinkles or crows feet. Still infuriatingly effortless, and graceful beyond belief.

She offered you a delicate smile. “Hello, doll. Long time, no see.” Peggy extended her hand, palm down.

You regarded it for a few seconds, before acquiescing. Taking it, you brushed your lips against her hand. You released it just as quickly. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Peggy, I’m glad you found your way. here.”

She laughed richly, and you could feel your chest flutter. You beat that down quickly. “Can I find you a place to sit? Anything to drink?”

“Sounds lovely. Lead the way.”

You brought her to your table, subtly shooing away your personal assistants. They scattered as Peggy sat down.

Question upon question swirled in your head, but each felt coarse and juvenile. Where have you been? What happened? Why did you leave me?

“What would you like to drink?” Was what came out instead.

“A Manhattan,” she responded. “Bourbon instead of rye.”

You snapped to get Peter’s attention when Peggy reached out, hand on your knee. “No, Y/N. I want you to get it.”

The muscle in your jaw tightened. Peggy always had a talent in stoking the angry fire in your belly. You closed your eyes before holding up a hand to stop Peter from making his way over. His eyebrows furrowed, but he stayed away.

It took strength to look at Peggy. “What are you doing here, Margret? Were you feeling nostalgic? Do you just want toy with me like you use to?”

“No,” the look in her eye had shifted from playful to serious. “I came here to apologize.”

“What?” you shifted in your seat. “Why?”

Peggy shook her head. “You were always so suspicious, Y/N.”

“Only with you. And only with good reason,” You crossed your arms, praying that the low blow still hurt.

All she did was smile.

“We’re better off as friends, Peg.”

Peggy caught your wrist, gentle smile still gracing her face. “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” She whispered into your ear.

You recoiled, chest suddenly tight, mouth unbelievably dry. “Peggy... I can’t change the decisions you made. You didn’t want the commitment, so you went back to your golden castle on the hill. You left me.”

“And I’m admitting it was a terrible choice.”

“Then why did you make it?” You jerked your wrist away. Your skin was hit where she touched you.

“I was pulling you in too quickly... we were making decisions too fast... I was I was scared.”

You scoffed. “You’re not an easy one to scare, Miss Carter.”

“I know, Y/N, just, hear me out. Please?”

“I’ll need something to drink first,” you muttered, rising. You stalked to the bar before Peggy could stop you.

“A Manhattan with bourbon, and a Martini, dry.” The bartender nodded and set to work.

“She’s definitely not on the guest list,” Natasha hummed, startling you.

“We’re did you come from?”

“The front desk. Wanda caught me up on everything.”

You sighed. “I know what you’re going to say...”

“She needs to leave, before this gets messy.”

“I know, I’m working on it.”

Natasha nodded, mouth in a thin line. “I know you are. Do you need any help?”

“No, just make sure everyone steers clear of my table. Give me some time.” You massaged your temples.

She squeezed your arm in assurance before disappearing into the crowd.

You took the two drinks back to the table, shooting a humorless smile to Peter and Wanda who were watching anxiously. Natasha came by and scolded them back into work.

Sitting down, you placed the Manhattan in front of Peggy. “Okay. Shoot.”

She grinned. “You really haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

“I resent that statement.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I love you?”

“No, not really.”

“I do, Y/N. I always have. Everyday I think about what I should have done, and how I should have stayed here, with you,” She touched your hand. “I know how much pain I caused you. And you must think I’m an absolute prick for coming here and putting my heart on the table for you.”

“I do.” You said without malice.

She smiled. “I respect that, Miss Y/L/N.”

“So what?” you were confused. “Do you want us so get back together and pretend like you didn’t disappear for three years? I can’t do that, Peggy, I simply do not have the time.”

“That’s not what I want,” she leaned in as a throng of people passed by the table. “I want to be around you again. I miss the way you laugh and command a room. Or how you speak your mind and use to let me in.”

“I hate how much I love you,” you choked out, teeth grit, chest tight once more. “Do you know that I’m a completely different person, Peg? Three years of solitude really does that to a girl. You might not like me anymore.”

She reached up and stroked your cheek. “At least let me get to know you again.”

The tears caught you by surprise, blurring your vision before you could stop them.

“Please don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you cry,” Peggy said, wiping away the moisture.

You looked away, batting at her hand. “I only ever cry when you’re in town, Peg.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Come on,’ you stood, sniffing. “Let’s get out of here. We have a lot to talk about.”

“But, this is your event, don’t you have to stay?”

You shrugged, offering your hand. “Natasha’s more than capable of running this circus. Please, let’s just go somewhere. I want to go.”

Peggy nodded, gently taking your hand. You moved to pull her, but she stopped you. She delicately raised it and brushed her lips against your knuckles. A soft smile made its way to your lips.

“Let’s go.”

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