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nightghoul381 · 10 months

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Silvio 3rd Anniversary Event

A Beast's Dream Realized by Beauty

Epilogue

Warning: Explicit Content | NSFW | MDNI

My first voyage and treasure hunt with Emma was an extraordinarily dark reminder of my childhood dreams.

If I could, I’d erase that treasure from my memory.

But that didn’t matter to Emma, who held the box with the worthless paper and stone as though it were a precious treasure.

…I even feel a little happy about it.

That night, when everyone was asleep—

I wrapped Emma, body chilled by the night wind, in my cloak and carried her straight to the bathroom.

(She used to scream with embarrassment every time I picked her up, but now she seems to be getting used to it.)

I put Emma down and she pulled the cloak more snugly around herself.

Silvio: “Look, we’re here. Take off your clothes and get in the hot water—”

Emma: “Did you think I was going to stay quiet the whole time?”

As if timed, Emma’s hands grabbed my clothes and started pulling them up.

Silvio: “Damn it, don’t do stupid stuff like ripping my clothes! Take your own clothes off, not mine.”

Emma: “I only did it so you would feel as embarrassed as me, Prince Silvio.”

(You’ve got guts, if that’s what you’re after…)

~~~~

Emma / Silvio: “……”

By the time we were soaking in the tub after stripping off each other’s clothes, we were both exhausted and remained silent for a while.

Emma turned in my arms, quietly looking up at me.

Emma: “…Please say something.”

Silvio: “…Ack.”

Emma: “That’s just a weird sound.”

Silvio: “After a scuffle, all you can do is make weird sounds.”

Emma: “Fufu, sure. A little while ago we were making more noise than children.”

Silvio: “I wonder what grown-ups would do.”

(Really, what are we doing. Adding to our fatigue, we’re idiots.)

Even though that’s what I think, I don’t mind doing stupid stuff with Emma.

Suddenly her beautiful back comes into view, and I lift her thin arms to look at it.

Emma: “Umm, is something wrong?”

Silvio: “For someone who was caught in so many traps, you don’t have a single scratch.”

Emma: “I was careful because I knew someone would be overly worried about even a small scratch.”

Silvio: “That’s a good attitude, but I don’t like the way you said it.”

Emma: “Hey…”

I suck hard on Emma’s neck, making her shiver and let out sweet noises.

Silvio: “I’m the only one who can leave marks on your skin.” 8823

Silvio: “If you want to go out to sea together in the future, be careful not to get any scratches.”

Emma: “I understand, ahh…ngh…”

(Hearing your sweet for just a second is all it takes.)

(My reason is blown away like an idiot.)

I kiss her again and again as if trying to steal her breath and I run my hands over her breasts.

The sight of her desperately trying to respond while letting out muffled whimpers is so erotic it’s dizzying.

Emma: “Oh God…!”

Her sensitive spots were so aroused that I could see them even in the hot water, and even just lightly brushing against her insides has her trembling.

(I’m sorry, but I’m already at my limit.)

Emma: “Ah, Prince Silvio… not yet, aahh…..!”

Embracing the exhausted and weak Emma, I lift her before slowly lowering her on my cock.

Her walls tightened as if to pull me deeper and I desperately try to endure being taken in all at once.

(It’s so satisfying, but it’s still not enough.)

(My desire for ‘more’ is growing, and I’m forgetting how to control it.)

(Emma tries to take it all in, which makes it even more…)

(Ha… I’m nothing but a lucky man.)

Emma smiles happily when our eyes meet, and my greed grows again.

(I can’t believe that now, I almost like to be pushed around a little bit.)

(I don’t get it, then I look at you and I don’t give a shit.) 8842

(You’re the only one who can give me the kind of weakness that comes with falling in love.)

A few days later—

(Ah…there.)

Emma had handed me a clearly handmade treasure map.

I headed to the location indicated on the map, checked the bushes, and found a wooden box with a few books in it.

(Did you really try to hide it? Even a kid would’ve thought it through a bit more.)

Or maybe this was the result of her desire that I find it.

(…well, you never know.)

The treasure hunt from a few days ago crossed my mind.

Incidentally, the stone from the treasure chest was on display in Emma’s room…

I was embarrassed and tried to pick it up, but I was threatened with ‘I won’t listen to you for a month’ so I had to comply.

(Jeez, a month. That’s torture.)

(Alright. So what’s in the box…paper?)

When I opened the box, I found only a small piece of paper, which for some reason said ‘turn around’.

(I don’t get it, is it some kinda riddle?)

Following the instructions, I turned around…

Emma: “Congratulations!!”

Silvio: “Uwaa, hey! Don’t hug someone while they’re turning around, their heart could stop!”

Emma: “It’s okay, Prince Silvio isn’t that weak.”

(This woman, calmly returning… hmm?)

A soft, sweet scent grazes my nose.

Silvio: “That bag in your hand, is it sweets?”

Emma: “Ah, you knew by the smell. This is the real treasure!”

Emma: “The theme is treasures of the world. I’ve made cookies for all of the treasures you’ve found so far.”

Silvio: “You get fired up over the strangest things.”

Emma: “I thought about that too, but it was already too late to turn back, so I kept going.”

Emma: “Look at this masterpiece.”

Silvio: “Did you purposely make it so elaborate?”

(This is at a level that could be turned into a sellable product.)

Emma: “Yes, Prince Silvio, say aah.”

Silvio: “I’ll eat it myself, give it to me.”

Emma: “…”

Silvio: “Aah shit, fine just feed it to me! Stop lookin’ so depressed.”

Shaking off my shame, I ate the cookie offered to me.

Emma: “Do you like it?”

Silvio: “Don’t bother askin’ what you don’t need to hear.”

Silvio: “…of course, it’s delicious.”

Emma: “Fufu, thank you.”

Emma looks at the box beside us.

Emma: “It makes me so happy to have people find the treasures I’ve prepared for them.”

Emma: “I think I understand a little how you felt at that moment, Prince Silvio.”

Emma: “If you get another chance, can I go out to sea with you to look for treasure?”

Silvio: “We don’t just take chances, we make them.”

Emma: “! I want to make it.”

Silvio: “Look forward to it.”

Since my childhood, my actions were always accompanied by the thought ‘to be king’.

So I didn’t realize I was yearning for the stupid, meaningless exchanges that are so normal for children.

(Now I’m able to have these stupid exchanges as I please.)

(I have someone by my side to keep me company.)

I could only get that with Emma.

(Seriously… How much more are you going to make me love you?)

With a smile as bright as the sun, I desperately try to keep my mouth shut.

From now on, I’ll go out to sea many times and find many treasures.

There's a chance that I’ll find a treasure worth an entire town.

(But I will never find a treasure greater than this.)

As if to be sure, I dropped a kiss on Emma, my treasure.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

#ikemen prince #ikepri #silvio ricci #ikemen silvio #ikepri silvio #ikemen prince silvio #ikemen prince translations #ikepri translations #ikepri silvio ricci

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raayllum · 2 years

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Rayllum-y lyrics from Midnights:

And I wake with your memory over me / That's a real fucking legacy, legacy (it was maroon)

I would've stayed on my knees / And I damn sure never would've danced with the devil / At nineteen / And the God's honest truth is that the pain was heaven / And now that I'm grown, I'm scared of ghosts / Memories feel like weapons

When my depression works the graveyard shift / All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

All the love we unravel / And the life I gave away / 'Cause he was sunshine / I was midnight rain / He wanted it comfortable / I wanted that pain

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye / You were bigger than the whole sky / You were more than just a short time / And I've got a lot to pine about / I've got a lot to live without

Summer went away, still, the yearning stays

One night, a few moons ago / I saw flecks of what could've been lights / But it might just have been you / Passing by unbeknownst to me

I didn't choose this town, I dream of getting out / There's just one who could make me stay / All my days

Can I ask you a question? / Did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room / And every single one of your friends was makin' fun of you / But fifteen seconds later, thеy were clappin' too? / Then what did you do? / Did you lеave her house in the middle of the night? Oh / Did you wish you'd put up more of a fight, oh / When she said it was too much? / Do you wish you could still touch her? / It's just a question

Lock broken, slur spoken / Wound open, game token

My knuckles were bruised like violets / Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked / Spineless in my tomb of silence / Tore your banners down, took the battle underground

I can't let this go / I fight with you in my sleep / The wound won't close / I keep on waiting for a sign

When the silence came, we were shaking blind and hazy / How the hell did we lose sight of us again? / Sobbin' with your head in your hands / Ain't that the way shit always ends?

They said the end is comin' / Everyone's up to somethin' / I find myself runnin' home to your sweet nothings

My friends from home don't know what to say / I looked around in a blood-soaked gown / And I saw something they can't take away / 'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned / Everything you lose is a step you take

Tale as old as time / I wake up screaming from dreaming / One day I'll watch as you're leaving / And life will lose all its meaning / For the last time

If clarity's in death, then why won't this die? / Years of tearing down our banners, you and I / Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts

Good girl, sad boy / Big city, wrong choices / We had one thing goin' on / I swear that it was somethin' / 'Cause I don't remember who I was / Before you painted all my nights / A colour I've searched for since

You’re on your own kid, you always have been

"It only hurts this much right now" / Was what I was thinkin' the whole time / Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out / I'll be gettin' over you my whole life

All you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

Once upon a time, the planets and the fates / And all the stars aligned / You and I ended up in the same room / At the same time

My hand was the one you reached for / All throughout the Great War / Always remember / Uh-huh, tears on the lеtter / I vowed not to cry anymore

You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love / The slowest way is never loving them enough

If you never touched me, I would've / Gone along with the righteous / If I never blushed, then they could've / Never whispered about this / And if you never saved me from boredom / I could've gone on as I was / But, Lord, you made me feel important / And then you tried to erase us / Oh, oh / You're a crisis of my faith / Would've, could've, should've / If I'd only played it safe

And the touch of a hand lit the fuse / Of a chain reaction of countermoves / To assess the equation of you / Checkmate, I couldn't lose

#rayllum #taylor swift #we're not swifties for nothing #caylangst #s4 #arc 1 #arc 2 #insp

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mcrningafters · 2 years

Note

“why do you have that look on your face?”

❥ ⸻𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐈'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕: 12:17 AM.

“what look?” i snapped, i couldn’t believe he was asking me such a stupid fucking question. he had literally grinned in every girl’s face, every time i looked around his diamond fronts created a mosaic disco ball on the face of whichever bitch he was smiling at. dating a d1 athlete had always placed a target on my back, but college had proved to be the worst. the amount of direct messages i would receive with girls boldly declaring their crush on my man was aggravating at first, but i use to he sure that they didn’t have a shot. now it seemed like nemour was starting to like the new attention a little too much. “if somebody would’ve told me my boyfriend was gonna turn into mr. bitches, i woulda went to spelman.” i complained, again blaming my choice of school on him ⸻ even though it was just that, my fucking choice. the conversation i had with my mom right before leaving flashed across my mind. “mija, you say you want to be a doctor. how many doctors do you think are running behind some boy? it’s not smart.” that was the last thing i heard before accusing her of being a hater cause my daddy wasn’t shit. hell, maybe he was right. i stomped through the crowded party, sharp zig-zags in a failed effort to lose my friendly ass boyfriend in the process but i should’ve known better. three of my short strides equaled one of his. the sound of him chanting my name over and over became increasingly aggravated, i knew i was becoming an irritant and i just didn’t give a damn. finally getting through the crowd and out of the fraternity house, i halt. the air was cool an brisk, the choice to not wear a jacket was biting me in the ass but i’d he got damned if i told him he was right in this very moment. “why you following me, don’t you got some groupies to tend to? fuera de mi cara!”

❥ ⸻𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐈'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕: 12:40 AM.

“why you making that face? you finna cum? hm?” similar question, much different answer, totally different position. i was completely vulnerable and open to him, his leg trapped mine and my arms were bound by his own. the palm of his hand worked expertly against my throbbing clit, my head falling against his shoulder as he pleasured me relentlessly. any smoke i had for him had dissipated two nuts ago. he just kept asking questions, as if i had the capacity to answer them. my mouth wasn’t covered, but i was completely gagged. all the mouth i had was replaced by pained whimpers and moans of distress. my slippery cunt delicate to the touch, so delicate that there was a moment of pain after every stroke, the satisfaction didn’t set in until later. on the heels of my fourth orgasm, i reached down and grabbed the chain that sat against his chest for leverage, yanking at it as my body convulsed in his arms. there was a mess underneath him, his entire outfit had to be soaked in my juices, and the leather seats matched. thank god for tinted windows, the movement outside the party never lacked up. if only one person was too nosy for their own good, they would’ve seen me in an defenseless position. but it felt so fucking good; so good that i second guessed by own intuition. maybe he wasn’t smiling at other women, he would never do anything to hurt me because i was all he needed. he wasn’t speaking those words, but he strummed them lovingly against my nerve bundle. i believed him, trusted him fully. would i stop being a brat? hell no, especially not if this was the punishment. @hardaways

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yeoreos · 3 years

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hate sex || jjk (m)

pairing :: jungkook x reader

genre :: 18+, fwb!au, smut, basically pwp

summary :: jungkook decides to show you how much he loves hates you.

warnings :: jungkook is in love with you, smut (corruption kink, big dick!jk, size kink, pussy slapping if you squint, oral (f. and m.), overstimulation, unprotected sex [be safe], sex in front of a mirror, denied orgasm, overstimulation, dirty talk, hair pulling, crying but it’s because jungkook is not showing any mercy on oc, hard dom!jk, somewhat brat!reader, a pinch of soft dom!jk, tattooed!jk, i think that’s it?)

wc :: 3.6k (of pure smut)

note :: first imagine ever please be kind :(( lowercase intended !!! (unedited)

“strawberry funnel cake frappuccino for y/n?”

your ears perked up at your name being called by the barista, indicating that your order is ready. you pushed past people, shocked at how packed it was despite it being a wednesday morning.

as for your situation, however, you needed that coffee. last night, the night of your date with your tinder match, didn’t happen. you realized how much time and energy you wasted looking your best for someone that didn’t even appreciate it. the rest of the night, you spent crying; not for your date, but for the makeup look you worked so hard on not to even get a reaction from anybody. but you didn’t let that stop you.

you grabbed your phone from the beige purse you had in your hands and threw the purse on your bed. from the lockscreen, you swiped left to open the camera app. from the angle it was in, the camera captured your feet.

a few small pictures to upload to instagram wouldn’t hurt, right? and so for the next hour or two you spent in the bathroom having a photoshoot, silently thanking yourself for not throwing away the tripod that sat in the corner of your room, serving no purpose until that moment.

you took a few snaps in the bathtub with the water reaching the brim and your favorite scent littered into the water, along with a few rose petals to decorate it. this is going to be amazing.

you sat in the bathtub, naked, careful not to let the water touch your face. with one person’s face in mind, you took the pictures, added a filter on them, and posted them onto your instagram, without a caption, because you sucked at those.

locking your phone, you sat in bed and went back to sleep, approximately around the time when the sun started rising, so of course you needed that coffee.

your best friend, Jimin, had heard all about it and had even been the first one to like and comment on your post. he commented so many times about how good you looked and how it was your date’s loss that he stood you up. it got to the point where he almost got shadow banned.

that was until he flooded your private message with more comments.

there was a specific comment, however, which caught your eye.

jeonjk97: damn babygirl

of course jungkook would comment something like that. but it didn’t fail to make you feel like you were on top of the world.

fuck him and fuck his stupid self.

and the situation you were in was exactly that.

jungkook always had a preference when it came to girls. although he wasn’t the playboy type, he was still a boy and needed his desires to be satisfied. he preferred the innocent ones; “they have the tightest cunts” he would say.

but it was more to it than that. he knew that the innocence was fun to break down, to stain it with his touch where he knew his one-night stand would come back for more and fall to his feet, practically kissing it. he wanted to watch the way they would turn from someone so pure to someone equivalent to him in bed.

he figured that you were a virgin by the way you almost always had your nose in a book. but the first time he asked you to come over, he was shocked to see that the person you showed to everyone was nothing but a mask to hide it all.

this was the first time you had caught jungkook’s intriguing eyes.

jungkook always reminded himself that he was only there to take, not to give, but it was getting harder and harder to do that each time you gave yourself to him. for him to use but he couldn’t. not when saw you as something more than just a quick fuck.

to make matters worse, you hated him with all of your guts, yelling out words that shouldn’t be uttered to him when the two of you weren’t in the premises of your (and sometimes his) bedroom.

“you’re a small, pretty thing, aren’t you?” he murmured to himself, standing next to your bed. you were sitting up on it, looking at him with a fire behind your eyes and a small smirk playing on your red lips. at that moment, he didn’t care about the feelings he had as all he wanted to was to take his cock out of the confines of his boxers and fuck your throat until you were gagging and choking on it, digging your nails into his thighs for leverage and a request to let you catch your breath.

“yes.” with your chest heaving up and down, the wetness between your thighs became more, the ghost of your orgasm pulling at every nerve in your body. that tingling feeling in your veins has you in a haze, wanting nothing more than just him.

he smirked, his purple hair falling over his eyes, and from the light hitting his back, it casted a shadow over them, making everything more exciting. every feeling and craving of touch for him was heightened, and you were getting tired of waiting.

“hurry the fuck up, jeon!”

bad mistake.

immediately, he went up to you and grabbed you by the neck, pulling you so you were propped on your knees and in front of him. jungkook looked down at your lips and bit his own, thinking about the pretty sounds that would be coming out of them in a few moments.

with his free hand, he trailed his fingers down, teasingly running them down your skin to your shorts. the ghost of his fingers has your breath caught in your throat and as soon as he reaches your clothed mound, he presses his fingers down. you let out a sound near a gasp and shut your eyes immediately. a harsh slap is delivered to your pussy and you mewl out in pleasure.

“don’t raise your voice at me, understand?” his fingers toying your clothed clit was making it hard for you to voice anything back, so you nod your head instead. “words, baby.”

oh he was evil.

“y-yes.” he smirked, satisfied with your response. he had never seen you so desperate for him in all the times he had spent with you.

he was aware of the fact that your panties had been soaked with your arousal, wetting his fingers in the process. “tell me what you want, princess.”

you swallowed air, choking on your own words for a second. you couldn’t believe what you were about to ask for. “i want- want you to fuck me...” with the way you trailed off, jungkook was sure it was more than just that, so he quirked a brow, giving you permission to speak further, “want you to fuck me like you hate me.”

something in jungkook seemed to snap because his eyes went a shade darker and an animalistic growl rumbled from deep within his throat.

all of a sudden, you were thrown onto the bed as jungkook got on his knees and tore your panties open, a loud gasp echoed throughout the room.

at first, jungkook took all the time in the world, leisurely toying with your clit and licking your opening until you turned into a moaning mess underneath his tongue, tugging on his bright locks like the floor was lava or something like that. it was only until you begged him to go faster, that he sped up the process of his tongue, assaulting your pussy. his strong grip on your thigh blocked you from distancing yourself from him and whenever you would, he suck on your clit, pulling it into his mouth and using his tongue to abuse the little nub. you grinded your hips into him, embarrassed of how good you were feeling, despite your strong negative feelings towards him on a daily basis.

“perfect little pussy,” he mumbled against your clit, “made for me to fuck.” that was all it took for your orgasm to come crashing down on you, legs shaking, sinful sounds escaping your lips.

but that wasn’t it, he wanted to fuck you like he hated you, so he showed no mercy again when he entered two fingers into you right after your orgasm, the burning stretch making teas accumulate in the corner of your eyes. his mouth was back on your clit, still sensitive mind you, before you could protest any further. his hooded eyes stared at you, wondering how someone could look so beautiful in this situation.

it was only until your back arched off your bed as your mouth was gaped with no sound coming out, fingers holding onto dear life in his hair and pressing his face further between your thighs, that you came for the second time just by his mouth.

it wasn’t like you were against the idea, because in all honesty, you did ask for him to use you, but oh god if you knew the dangerous territory you were stepping in, you would’ve backed away a long time ago.

after you had calmed down from your high, although heart still racing, you slid down to the floor and got on your knees. jungkook wasn’t expecting this, all he wanted to do now was to fuck you until he rearranged your guts, but who was he to back down from your request of sucking his dick.

jungkook was haste to unbuckle his belt, already envisioning how you would look sucking his cock. however, he didn’t have to envision that for too long, because without any restrictions, you licked the crown of his dick, sending a shiver to go down his spine.

as for you, however, you didn’t realize how much you missed his dick until it was right in front of you and you could finally touch it. the pre-cum shined on his tip and it was waiting (im)patiently for you to give it some sort of relief. he reaches down for your hand and brings it to his dick, indicating that you do the action here. you grab it’s base and glide his tip over your mouth, smearing his arousal on your lips.

you part your lips and he allows you to have control over how much you were going to take in. when your warm mouth closes around him, he breathes out loud. you swirl your tongue over the head and taste the salty pre-cum. the feeling of his veiny cock feels so good in your mouth and you couldn’t wait for it to be shoved in your pussy. you start bobbing your head, using your hands for the parts your mouth couldn’t cover.

“oh fuck,” jungkook curses and entangles his fingers in your hair, pushing it back and holding it into a makeshift ponytail. it wasn’t until he wasn’t satisfied with how much you were taking into your mouth, that he starts bucking his hips into your mouth, going slow at first, then deciding to stay at a ruthless pace.

you opened your mouth and slacked your jaw, allowing him to use you as he pleased. jungkook curses underneath his breath when your submissiveness turns him on even more, but he’s quick to guide his cock in and out of your mouth. and truth be told, he could probably do this in his sleep with the amount of times he’s fucked your mouth. you gag around him, eyes glistening with warm tears as he continues his pace. jungkook holds your head when the feeling is too much and he becomes vocal.

letting out loud moans and groans, jungkook goes insane, almost cumming then and there.

but he couldn’t. he wanted to cum inside of your pussy.

your scalp physically hurt when he let go of your hair and slipped his dick out of your mouth, permitting you to catch a breath which he stole.

he picked you up by your waist and threw you on the bed, your head into the soft covers of your bedsheet. jungkook held you by your hips, pulling them up, so your ass was in the air and your head was in the mattress.

he took his sweet time teasing and making you push your ass back for more, but he wouldn’t give himself to you just yet. he wanted to teach you your lesson.

and once he bottomed out, you moaned into the sheets, aware that you were drooling on them. it just felt that good. you loved it all. loved the way he was balls deep into you, loved the way he gripped your hips that it was going to leave marks, loved the way he was chanting your name like a mantra when you clenched around him, loved the way that he was the one fucking you.

as much as you would hate to admit it, jungkook was an all-rounder; perfect at everything he did whether it be sports, gaming, cooking, fashion. you name it, he could do it. including fucking you and that was your favorite part about him. that no matter how much the two of you hated (and one even loved, but that’s a conversation for another day) each other, you would always go back to each other like two opposites on a magnet.

this view was nice, but jungkook wanted more. he wanted to see your face contort in pleasure, but at the same time, he wanted to see the way your cunt would take his cock. so, from the corner of his eye, he peeks at the mirror and considers the idea for a bit before moving around on the bed so you guys were in front of the mirror.

“w-what are you doing- mph!” jungkook enters you without even giving you a chance to complete your sentence. he brutally snaps his hips so his dick dives into your pussy, your walls doing nothing but contracting against his shaft.

jungkook bends down and grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling it as your neck cranes over to see the two of you in the mirror. through your reflection, you could see the way jungkook looks back with the same hungry and lustful eyes. your eyes travelled to your position and the sight alone had you gushing for him, more wetness pooling. you look at the way your hair now looked like (and probably did) it had knots in them, your lipstick smeared across your lips and some parts of it getting on your cheek and chin, your mascara smudged over your eyes. you looked bad, but a good type of bad. it had jungkook ramming his hips into yours even more.

“look at you,” he says although that was what you were doing the whole time, “such a dirty slut. who’s making you feel this good, huh? who?!”

“y-you, oh fuck jungkook, please don’t stop, don’t stop please, i’m going to-”

“don’t you dare.” the way the words came out of jungkook’s chest has your heart rate speeding up and you could’ve sworn he got harder inside of you.

in response, you mewl and shake beneath him, finding it hard to hold in your orgasm. with the way your vision blurred, you knew you were close, your release so close yet so far away.

jungkook leaves open mouthed kisses along the side of your neck, sucking into your skin, leaving a dark purple mouth he knew you were going to try to cover up the next day. for a little while, jungkook stills his hips, ravishing in the way your mouth is hung open and hands were shaking, trying their best to support the weight of your body. he holds that position, his lips pressing tender kisses on your neck. although you desperately want him to fuck you, another part of you wants to cherish this moment.

so, you close your eyes in return and moan.

once he finished torturing the delicate skin of your neck, his eyes get drunk on your body, intoxicating him. at first, he watches through the mirror, watching the way your chest heaved for air. his eyes soon travelled to your back, to your ass, where he saw how deep he was buried into your cunt.

“your cunt is taking me so well, babe.”

once he sees that you were ready to take more, he pulls back and in one swift thrust, he pushed into you, a scream ripping through you. he does that again and again, causing the same reaction from you. jungkook once again stops when he’s fully inside of you, torturing you just to make you beg for him. you need him to fuck you relentlessly, so that’s exactly what you vocalize.

“please, jungkook,” your voice is nothing but a whisper, “please fuck me.”

“you should hear yourself, baby, the way you’re desperately begging for me. begging to be fucked,” he chuckles, “you already came once? or was it twice? how greedy can you be.”

“i’m you’re slut, jungkook. please fuck me.”

it was a light switch. something in him flicked and jungkook immediately started snapping his hips into you. “say that again, you little whore. who’s slut are you?”

“jungkook’s. only jungkook’s- fuck!”

he pushed his cock back before slamming into you with both of his hands on your hips. the lewd and slick sound of your pussy and your wetness leaving onto his cock echoes throughout the room and you could’ve sworn jungkook whimpered.

when that wasn’t enough, the sex god behind you takes both of your hands, pulling it behind you, setting yet another brutal pace. he can’t help but wrap his tattooed arms around your small, fragile ones. his eyes lock with yours, your throat protruding a gulp of air you had swallowed.

“you look so pretty, your hands behind you as i’m fucking you, i wish you could see yourself. fuck,” he rumbles.

you moan at his words, because you couldn’t agree more. his hands were perfect; every inch of your body that he would touch, lick, kiss, all belonged to him. you belonged to him and jungkook was going to make sure you were aware of that by the end of the night tonight.

“moan louder,” he says while thrusting into you. “let everyone hear how much of a little slut you are for me.” he emphasizes the last word. his possessiveness was showing, but did either of you care? no.

as you give him exactly what he wants, he smiles while letting his cock fill you up, his hips hitting against yours with aggression. this all causes sparks of pleasure to coarse through your body, your veins felt like they were lit on fire, but not in the bad way. it was in a way only he could make you feel.

as you look at him through the mirror, you can’t help but find him extremely attractive. you watch the way he looks back at you with a cloudiness in his eyes and the way his pink tongue swipe across his bottom lips. jungkook keeps growling your name, thrusting into you with a different urgency every time

“please- jungkook please, i need to cum!” you were begging, not even caring how pathetic you looked and sounded.

“not until i tell you to,” the evil tone in his voice was evident and you didn’t know how longer you could hold in your release.

jungkook noticed the way tears freely fell from your eyes. something took over him, a sense of care. halting his hips, he leaned down and pressed gentle kisses to your neck. “just a little longer, yeah? you’re my good girl, and my good girl can do it. it’ll feel amazing, i promise.” you shuddered, a whole new feeling blossoming inside of you. a radiating warmth coursing throughout your body.

his hands could feel the way your body trembled and quivered underneath him with each thrust. the way he started his merciless pace had you losing yourself to the feeling of lust and desire. your face scrunches up, a feeling of your coil about to snap in your stomach.

jungkook quickly noticed and brings one of his hands which were previously wrapped around your wrists, made their way around your waist and to your clit, toying with the bundle of nerves. it wasn’t long until you were coming undone, with jungkook whispering praises and sweet nothingness into your ear.

a few moments and pumps later, jungkook feels his dick twitch inside of you. pulling out, he cums on you: your ass, your back, and your cunt.

still feeling high from your euphoria, the two of you stay in that position.

completely mesmerized in your afterglow, jungkook looks at you, you doing the same. the eye contact is far more intimate than what the two of you did just now. he never found anyone more beautiful after sex, but you? it was like a whole new perspective.

jungkook pulls his dick out a grabs a tissue from the table near your bed in order to clean you up, followed by a small, tender kiss pressed onto your temple. “you did so well,” he whispers and you feel your knees become weak. it was either due to exhaustion or because of his words.

you hoped it was not the latter.

#jungkook smut #jungkook is a sex god wbk #bts smut #jungkook fuckboy #fuckboy jungkook #smut #kpop #kpop smut

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Text

That Black Tee

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, penetrative sex, fingers, slight metal arm kink, sex against a wall, semi-public sex, dirty talk - 18+, minors DNI. Summary: It was such a simple thing. Just a simple black tee-shirt. But the way Bucky wore it had you practically melting -- and he seemed to realize it, happily granting your needs A/N: idk guys there was just something about that black tee-shirt bucky wore in episode 4 of TFATWS. it got my mind wandering. and i love practicing writing smut i hope im getting better at it lmao

Masterlist

You knew you absolutely, utterly fucked the second Bucky took off his jacket, revealing that damn black tee.

So simple yet so fitting, so accentuating. He looked casual and cool yet incredibly powerful and dominant with that metal arm fully on display thanks to the short sleeves. Between that damn shirt and the hard expression he wore, you were pretty much done for. It took all you might to not march over to him right that second.

Bucky appeared to be aware of all this as he turned to you, feeling your eyes wandering shamelessly over him in that shirt. He just looked so… him. Not a soldier, not some asset, just him. And he was hot.

He shot you a little smirk, making your eyes widen, suddenly unreasonably worried your boyfriend could read your mind.

You two must’ve been too caught up in your silent communication because the next thing you heard was Sam asking if you were okay.

You jumped and forced yourself to look away from Bucky. "Yeah, Sam," you nodded, "I’m fine."

He hummed, suspicious. "Are you sure?"

But before you could answer, Bucky felt it was his time to chime in. "She’s a little distracted."

Your eyes widened again, this time sending a signal to your boyfriend to shut the hell up. He wouldn’t look at you and instead just laughed to himself.

"Distracted?" Sam questioned.

"I- I’m fine, really-,"

Bucky cut you off, "Actually, I need to talk with her about something."

Your jaw went slack as you tried finding some words of explanation, something to save yourself from this situation as you could see Sam’s concern growing. But nothing was able to come out before Bucky was grabbing your hand.

"You can’t talk to her out here?" Sam asked.

Bucky shook his head, profusely. "It’s a very private matter. Incredibly serious. Just between me and her."

"Bucky-," you just about yelped as he started walking to one of the off-shoot rooms from the living space. Sam tried asking more questions but Bucky promptly shut him down by slamming the door. Hard. It was a miracle the thing didn’t just fall right off its hinges. For whatever reason, that suddenly turned you on even more.

You stood there in the middle of the room watching as Bucky slowly turned to you. He had a playful glimmer in his eyes as he took in your nervous yet needy state. Your thighs were practically in pain from how hard you were trying to squeeze them together, wanting some relief to your core that was set ablaze by him. Him and that damn outfit. That damn hair. His damn face- God, you just needed your boyfriend right now.

Bucky walked towards you slowly, intensely. You tried averting your eyes to save yourself from crumbling but he stopped you. His fingers came to your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He appeared to be just as eager.

"What happened back there, doll?" He asked just barely above a whisper. He held your chin firmly.

"What- What do you-,"

He chuckled. The fucker chuckled at your flustered state. "What do I mean? I mean that look you were giving me. How those eyes were peeling off my clothing piece by piece. Made me want to take you right there."

Bucky’s words went straight to your core. The wetness was pooling profusely, practically soaking through your jeans. You let out a little whimper as his thumb brushed over your lip.

"It’s your tee-shirt," you whispered, surprised that you could even find any sort of words in your dazed brain. He was way too intoxicating.

Bucky’s face shifted in surprise. "My shirt?"

You nodded. "It just… looks good on you."

He couldn’t help but let out another chuckle. You pouted at his reaction which he took as the opportunity to quickly place a kiss on your lips. You tried moving into him, grinding your body with his to beg for more, but he stopped, forcing you two apart.

"Oh, doll," he mumbled as his hand left your chin and slowly made its way down your body. Over the curve of your clothed breast, down your stomach, to your hips… the hand finally dipped under the waistline of your jeans. Without much warning, two fingers traced your folds, dipping slightly in to collect the wetness. He gave a few thrust, teasingly. Bucky groaned. "You’re this wet just from how I look in my shirt?"

You gasped, nodding. Embarrassment wanted to coarse through you but the pleasure from Bucky tracing his fingers to your clit was too much. Slowly, he started with circular motions, making your body jolt. You squealed in surprise. Bucky smiled down at your reaction.

He kept it up, adding pressure every now and then as he continued. Your legs began to shake forcing you to grip his arms in support. Bucky noticed this and brought his metal hand to your hip, steadying you.

He picked up the pace, his eyes boring into yours intensely. You let out a breathy moan at the sight of him, looking at you so hungry and aroused.

"Come on, honey, cum for me," he mumbled, still working on your clit. Every now and then he’d stop to dip a finger in as if gaging your wetness. In those moments you’d groan, waiting for the contact to come back. He never let you suffer long, though, finding his way back to your clit quickly, keeping the pressured motions. "Be a good girl and cum for me, doll, and I’ll fuck you real nice against the wall just like you deserve."

That was the final straw. His words alone practically sent you over the edge. Your body shook as the first orgasm pulled through you, lighting fire throughout your body. Your hips bucked and twisted uncontrollably, almost trying to get away from the touch but Bucky didn’t lighten up. He worked you through it, whispering sweet praises in your ear, making you lose it even more.

Once you came down from the high, Bucky wasted absolutely no time gripping your hips and pushing your back to the nearest wall. You yelped in surprise before his lips attached to yours, rough and demanding.

He lifted you up and grabbed your legs, circling them around your waist. You took the opportunity to grind into him feeling his erection hit your covered core. It lit a new fire in you making you gasp at the feeling.

Bucky moved his lips down your face to your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin. You whined and grabbed onto that fucking tee shirt, still trying to push into him, wordlessly begging him to speed up.

"Eager, doll?" Bucky asked. You could practically hear the dumb smile on his face and it made you want to slap it off. But all you could do in response was nod.

He placed one more kiss on your lips before his hand made its way back down your body. This time he popped the buttons of your jeans open. Briefly, he placed you back down to pull your jeans to your ankles. When that task was done, you were back wrapped around his waist, now feeling the erection more prominently. You let out a deep, uncontrollable moan when it hit.

As if he understood your annoyance, Bucky quickly undid his own jeans. In your dazed state, you must’ve zoned out because the next thing you knew, your panties were just pushed to the side and his cock was breaching your walls. You two were in sync letting our moans and groans at the warmth, the wetness.

His arms held you tight as he began his thrusts, so precise and strong. You were backed into the wall forcefully, enjoying the pressure and pleasure combining into one. Your boyfriend groaned above you, sounds going right to your core which was made evident by the squelching sounding in the room.

Bucky kept his thrusts up as his metal hand left your hip and made its way to your clit. His body held you up with his other arm, giving you a second to marvel in his strength. It was always such a treat when it came out in the bedroom. How he could hold you down or hold you up had your mind spinning half the time.

As his thrusts began to pick up, his metal hand started with the circular motions again on your clit. The coldness meeting your warmth was enough to drive you crazy. Your hands fisted his shirt, trying to keep yourself grounded. You let out a surprised moan at the whole sensation which Bucky seemed to like as he gripped you harder. Your brain was going fuzzy, drunk even, as he pounded you into the wall flawlessly.

"Bucky… B-Bucky…" you choked out.

"Hmm?" You could tell he was staring at you despite your eyes being fluttered shut. He was taking in every inch of your face contorting in glorious pleasure. It seemed to drive his thrusts faster, the circular motions on your clit picking up as well.

"I- I’m gonna-,"

"You gonna cum again, doll?" He asked, a little mockingly. You would’ve bit back if you weren’t in this state but you couldn’t do anything, just take what he was giving. You nodded weakly. "Alright, honey, that’s it… Cum for me, come on. I got you."

It was like Bucky flipped that last switch as his strength and speed picked up. You yelped, clinging to his shirt even tighter.

One final push on your clit was all you needed before you were crumbling in his arms. Your body shook as your orgasm flooded you with ecstasy. Bucky didn’t want to let up with the trusts, though, chasing his own orgasm and thoroughly working you through your second. He kept pounding, his hand opting to leave your clit to grope at your breasts under your shirt. The metal hitting your skin in a new place made you squeal again.

The sounds and motions were it for Bucky as the next thing you knew, he released inside you, coating your walls and thrusting in and out, letting it leak onto your skin. You moaned at the sensation.

Bucky gave a couple more weak thrusts before he let out a final groan and stilled inside you. Both his arms now were around your waist, pulling you close as you two panted, coming down from the pleasure.

Bucky leaned forward, his head resting on your shoulder. Your hands left his shirt and came up to his hair, where you ran them through his short locks.

"Was that what you needed, doll?" He asked, voice breaking through the heaviness of the room.

You giggled, "Exactly what I needed."

"Hmm," he sighed and straightened back up. He pecked your lips. "Guess I gotta wear this shirt more often."

You gasped, slapping his chest lightly as he laughed. But you couldn’t totally disagree. "I wouldn’t complain if it made an appearance every now and then."

Bucky shook his head, "I don’t understand how a black tee shirt can get you going, doll."

After he spoke, he slowly removed himself from you, letting you down from the wall. Warm wetness began soaking your thighs feeling so intimate, so hot, it almost made you almost suggest round two right then and there but that didn’t seem on the table after Bucky handed you some tissues to clean up. Not to mention the fact there were people in the living area.

You shrugged, readjusting your shirt and pulling your jeans back on. You watched as Bucky also readjusted his appearance. "It’s because it’s on you," you insisted. "You could walk around in the most ridiculous outfits and I’d still beg you to jump my bones."

Bucky let out the most joyous laugh at that. He walked back towards you, securely wrapping his arms around your waist. You placed a kiss on his lips, which he hummed happily into.

"I’m flattered," he mumbled. The light blush across his cheeks confirmed his words.

You smiled, "What can I say? I got a hot boyfriend and he should know it."

Bucky placed another kiss on your lips. "Oh, trust me, I think he knows it now."

You let out a giggle and pulled away from his grip, despite a little protest. "Come on," you said and motioned towards the door, "we should probably leave this room before we get any shit from them."

"Oh, you’re getting a lot of shit once you come out of that room," Sam called from the other side of the door, making both you and Bucky jump. "Might as well stay in here."

You groaned at the words, your face and neck suddenly becoming hot in embarrassment. Bucky just chuckled, somehow finding everything amusing, and wrapped an arm around you.

"Worth it, though," he whispered before placing a kiss on your cheek. You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t at all argue. Just glancing between the wall and that black tee made you suddenly hot and bothered all over again.

Bucky picked up on your gaze, once again practically reading your mind. With a suggestive smirk, he asked, "Round two?"

You bit your lip as his hand began running over the curve of your ass.

"Fine."

Bucky didn’t waste a single second before whisking you off your feet

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu #mcu fic #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #writing*#fluff #slight tfatws spoilers

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aetheternity · 3 years

Text

Answer your damn phone. (NSFW)

Synopsis: Hange keeps calling while Levi's fucking his S/O so his S/O picks up and tells Hange to call back later cause Levi is, "Currently getting his cock drained." Levi responds by fucking his S/O into the mattress. "You know how much Hange's gonna annoy me later?" He grunts completely sheathing his cock. "Scream my name louder." He huffs "I don't think the neighbors can hear." He leans in closer to her ear. "You better make them think I'm killing you after the shit you just pulled."

Levi's teeth were gritted as he leaned his head forward, eyes shut tight. The prettiest tinge of pink bloomed against his cheeks. His fingers creating a permanent mark in your skin.

"Levi, Levi.." You shuddered over his cock.

His knees were bent against your sides as you roughly slammed yourself down on his cock. His hips coming up to greet you. The heat in your stomach heavy as Levi continued to hit your sweet spot on every thrust.

His hair bounced against his forehead, face covered in sweat. Beautiful grey eyes fluttering open a little when you let out a breathless gasp fingers digging into his chest as you leaned close. Your thighs squeezing together as you called out your impending orgasm.

You pleaded his name like a chorus off your lips. Fingers kneeding at your clit begging to push you over the edge. You grunted out some curse words and just as you were getting ready to burst Levi's phone illuminating the darkened room pausing your movements.

You both groaned out in unison. The rough press against your waist moving up to grip at your back. You weren't exactly counting the amount of times Levi's phone had gone off but it was definitely more than two and beyond annoying.

"Why don't you just turn it off!" You grumbled

"She'll come here if it just goes straight to voicemail. The stupid thing's on mute and she'll eventually tap herself out and stop calling." Levi replied, already moving his hips again.

"G-god.. j-just tell her to stop c-calling.." You tried over the heat reclaiming its place in your core.

"She'll come here. It'll b-eee a whole long c-onversation.."

Levi's eyes fell shut again and his lips parted over the word "shit". Breathing labored as you squeezed his thick cock inside your walls. And it was almost like nothing had stopped. Your fingers pushed their way over his forehead, brushing aside the strands of hair covering his temple.

"Almost there.." He gasped, his hands ran up your back to pull you close by your shoulders.

His hips were unrelenting and the bed creaked as your moans grew louder once again. He breathed every noise in his mouth onto your lips. Biting and sucking the already swollen flesh.

"Finish.. c-come on."

This time when Levi's phone went off he didn't even bother to pause. Still ramming his dick into your tight hole. But at this point you'd pretty much had enough. You wrenched the phone off the nightstand and only then did Levi pause in his movements.

"Yeah, Hange?" Levi stared up at you. Eyes wide, still darkened with lust. Hange's voice was elated though confused as she quickly came to the consensus that Levi wasn't the one who picked up.

"Where's Levi?" She questioned

You looked down at Levi with mild irritation. "Well, he can't come to the phone right now because he's busy getting his cock drained." Before Hange could even begin to reply you quickly hung up, turning Levi's phone off, placing it face down on the nightstand.

"Problem solved." You huffed

Levi didn't move, surprisingly enough Levi didn't say anything either. His lips slightly parted and his eyes narrowed. You felt yourself gulp as you let out a little confused murmur of his name.

He didn't say a word, quickly yanking you off his cock. A gasp falling off your lips as he slipped out. He placed your feet on the floor and at this point your actions slightly dawned on you.

"Levi.." You tried again an apologetic glint in your eyes.

He repositioned himself grabbing your hips from behind. In seconds a harsh hand was glued to your nape forcing you down onto the mattress. And in the same amount of time his dick was pressing all the way back into your taut pussy.

You let out a loud moan that honestly would've been embarrassingly loud if not for the accidentally edging over the course of about an hour.

When Levi's hips snapped into yours it made your knees buckle. Fingernails practically tearing the cotton sheets below you. It wasn't like Levi was never rough but it felt so different this time.

"You know how much Hange's gonna annoy me later?" He grunted as he spread your thighs further so he could be right in between them.

"I-I.." You let out a choked moan, head swimming with drunken pleasure.

His fingers so tight around the back of your neck probably drawing blood but you couldn't even begin to care. His dick so deep you felt like it was actually in your stomach. With his free hand he pressed down on your stomach making everything feel so much more compressed.

"Scream my name louder Y/N." He said "I don't think anyone can hear just how good you're getting it."

A tremble rode down your spine as you cried out his name over the heavily shaking furniture beneath you. That all too familiar heat pooled in your stomach and you felt your eyes shutting. You pleaded and begged, pussy tightening like a vise dangerously tight around his cock.

He was keeping it in pretty well until that point. Every noise on his lips beginning to fall like a crashing crescendo. Your toes curled against the floor and your heart was practically beating out of your chest.

"L-Levi! Levi!" You cried out

His growl so close to your ear drum it had you practically weeping. "Come on babe, make the neighbors think I'm murdering you."

It hit you in more than one way and when you came it hit hard. Your back arching up into him, legs shaking but he was still holding your neck in place. You sobbed his name out, immediately feeling sensitive after your orgasm but he kept his pace up.

The combined noises of your skin slapping together and the gasps Levi couldn't keep hidden echoed over the smooth paint of your bedroom. His cock twitched inside of you, whimpers falling off your lips as you knew what was coming.

"Fff-uck I'm cumming." The hand that had been wrapped around your nape fell next to your face and now the sheets actually did rip.

You glanced back as his hard grey eyes rolled upwards. Face awestruck at just how white his lip was between his teeth. Hair shiny where it molded to his face thanks to the sweat. Levi groaned, huffing out breaths against your head.

His hips stuttering forward as he came, abs contracting and expanding on your back. The ache in both of you finally filled.

"Fuck." You moaned as the last of his cum fed your clenching hole.

You were almost glad when he pulled out. Your body flush with so much heat you could barely breathe. His hands came up to your waist flipping you around and at first it seemed innocent until he was pulling you to the foot of the bed. Legs forcibly opened as he unabashedly slid back inside.

"L-levi?" You couldn't help how greedy your moan was.

The way he was shoving his cock into your pussy coupled with his rough fingers massaging your clit. He pulled himself up closer to your face, hips so merciless and swift you could already feel yourself cumming again.

Your head fell back and you screamed in time with the bed angrily banging against the wall.

"Pl-please Leeevvvii." Tears streamed down your face but he ignored you.

His free hand ran over your face to press a sweet kiss onto your lips as he pressed impossibly deeper. Incoherent noises wrenching from your throat. His fingertips burned and you craved something anything to cool your skin.

Your fingernails dug long grooves into his back and he hissed in delight. With one swift motion he quickly had both of your knees bent into the bed sheets.

When he leaned in again your heart practically froze. "Don't. Ever. Touch. My. Phone. Again." He grunted between every thrust.

"N-never."

"Hange'll be blowing up my phone for different reasons now." Levi groaned "It's your f-ucking fault."

You screamed an apology when his teeth sunk into your sweat soaked skin. Toes clenching as Levi's name left your lips for probably the millionth time tonight.

"Mm soooooo sorry.." You moaned breathlessly

"Not yet you aren't." He muffled his own moan by kissing your ear and it went straight to your already sopping wet pussy.

You threw your head back as he surprisingly sped up, head completely empty as you clenched and came around his cock. Quickly coupled with his own loud orgasm his thighs shaking uncontrollably.

You let out what had to be all the oxygen currently in your lungs with a loud exhale. Both of you practically jumping out of your skin as the headboard clattered to the ground behind you. Though Levi's shaky form stayed pressed tight against your body.

"Levi.. I'm sorry." You quickly apologized again.

His eyes stayed dark and his lips were tugging into a thin line. "I'm not done yet."

A couple hard knocks coming from downstairs made you both turn your head. "Please don't let it be the cops again.." You sighed your head flopping back on the mattress.

#aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan levi #levi ackerman scenario #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman smut #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi smut #levi aot #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi ackerman #snk x reader

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aizawaskittenwhore · 3 years

Text

𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦.

𝘧𝘵. 𝘪𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶, 𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰, 𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘪 (+𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘴), 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘸𝘢.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: 18+ 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵. 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴: 1.5𝘬

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘰𝘺𝘴/𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨/𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢, 𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺/𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 18. 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵, 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘪 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴. 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺. 𝘮𝘸𝘢𝘩.

“man, fuck you, the horse you rode in on, and your weak ass dick! just leave me the fuck alone.” you spit, arms crossed as you shoot the man in front of you a glare hot like jet fuel.

𝘪𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶:

izuku midoriya is one of the sweetest people to grace the earth

there’s no doubt about it.

but know he is not afraid to put yo ass in a fucking headlock and pound his way into you, voice thick and raspy as he asks you just who the fuck you think you’re talking to.

he’s grown up quite a bit since high school

and refuses to get bitched by anyone, especially his own girlfriend.

a saccharine smile inches across peony pink lips, spreading over porcelain teeth

“you uh... you wanna repeat that, honey?”

you know you’ve made a mistake

he’s got that look in his eye, ravenous and wicked

“look...izuku, baby, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to snap like that—“

“that’s not what i asked. i asked you...if you wanna repeat that.”

would definitely strap your ankles to a spreader bar, reveling in the way you continue to writhe against it

only to cry out in desperation once you realize that the more you struggle, the wider your legs go

or he’ll make you cry as you struggle to form a coherent apology, words choppy from the the remote controlled vibe is sending shockwaves through your heavily sensitive clit

he’d kneel above you, smile wide and innocent as he turns it up to the second most powerful setting, hard-on growing at the sight of your head lolling back while you try to appease him with sorry after sorry

“i-izuku—fuck, fuck! mmh— it’s too much....please, please, ‘m sorry! i didn’t mean it, ’m too sensitive—please just let me make it up to you baby—“

“all you gotta do is say the magic words sweetheart, and i’ll give you what you need.”

yeah, he’s one of those motherfuckers.

“remind me who’s pussy this is, and this’ll all be over with.”

“god, fine!! it’s yours okay! nobody else’s..now please, please fuck me izuku, i need you—“

doesn’t hold back for a second when he’s staking his claim all over your body, a calloused thumb roving over your clit gently, mindful of your sensitivity but edging you closer and closer to a fifth orgasm

happily smears strings of thick, sticky cum all over your stomach to mark you as his

and doesn’t hesitate to lick it off the supple, soft skin of your torso, the milky white substance congealing with transparent slippery saliva

he grasps your face firmly, fingers pushing your cheeks inwards and causing your spit slicked lips to jut out in a pretty little pout

“open.” he mutters before dripping the salty concoction onto your awaiting tongue, a throaty groan rumbling in his chest as he watches you happily swallow every last drop

“good girl.”

the aftercare is immaculate, izuku taking his time to wipe you clean so tenderly, lips pressing against each and every bruise, your body pliant as he whispers sweet reassurances into your sweat soaked skin

“much better now, right?”

you nod, eyes heavy as you sink into the warmth of his chest, hands clinging to him like he could disappear at any moment

“happy i could help you relieve some of that tension honey.”

“but talk to me like that again, and i promise you that’ll be the last time you call anything about me weak, especially how i fuck you. got it?”

prepare to be not only throughly sore the next day, but to have to conceal fingerprint shaped bruises on your hips and thighs

takes pictures of your fucked out face to have for future incidents where you decide you wanna talk like you have zero home training

and isn’t afraid to flash katsuki one or two whenever he gets to talking about how he could take you from him.

𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰:

“so that’s how you wanna act, hm? if you needed some dick you should’ve just fuckin’ said so instead of always runnin’ your damn mouth.”

he whirls you around, pelvis pressing into the small of your back, rivulets of sweat beading at the base of your neck from his close proximity

he’s such a glutton for putting little bitches like you in their place.

blade sharp canines dragging against the curve of your neck, pathetic attempts to maintain your resolve falling from unsteady lips

“the hell’s wrong with you—you already know i’m with izuku...i’m not doing this shit to him again—”

but you were already gone when his lips slotted against yours, body throbbing at the contact

now izuku was a good lover, a giver, a pleaser at heart

always putting your enjoyment above his

but eventually one grows tired of slick tongues and curved fingers, pretty whines and gentle kisses

you wanted “fuck you”s, spit flying along sick expletives hurled at your bowed, desperate figure, sweet sticky semen coating your throat after it was abused and stroked as though you were a piece of plastic.

and as luck may have it, katsuki was more than willing to provide.

yet today you’d had enough, his subtle touches when you passed one another had garnered izuku’s attention; you’d reassured the male that it was nothing to bother with, that the two of you were just coworkers.

at least when his balls aren’t in your slutty fucking mouth, thick bubbled spit dripping onto your home screen as you text izuku that you’ll be home late for “stir-friday” once again.

the best sex was on days like today, when you got just a little too reckless at the mouth

when you needed a not so gentle reminder of who’s leaving you breathless all hours of the night

takes his time with you, fingers teeming with a slight brine as they’re sloppily thrust into your mouth with a “shut the fuck up talking to me like you don’t know who the fuck i am.”

degradation? baby, you’ve met the man.

“wanna act like a bitch, that’s fine. just don’t complain when i leave you limping like one, got it?”

you’re shoved atop a desk, it’s contents forgotten as katsuki latches onto a tit and proceeds to leave mark after mark, striving to rid any trace of your lover

panties tugged to the side, fingerpads waltzing up the length of your—no, his pussy

kisses down your sternum and the plush skin of your stomach, flipping you opposite him before snaking his tongue between your southernmost lips, devouring you like a man starved

but doesn’t let you cum, not yet anyway

“katsuki—please, i need it, don’t fucking tease..”

hates when you whine because it chips at his hard exterior, he’d give anything to pull another cry from you

“beg for it then. you had so much to say earlier, eh? go ahead and put your mouth to better use, fuckin’ slut.”

spanks you while he eats it from the back cause he can

and don’t even get me started on his size kink

lives for making you feel small against his large stature and even larger ego

“damn, you’re tight...thought deku would’ve broken you in a bit more for me by now—”

his pace is angry and unforgiving like his mouth, leaving you no mercy when he finally takes his place between your thighs

“that’s it...take that shit. don’t run...come on, tell me who’s dick you go dumb for, say it—“

“yours! j-just yours, never ‘zuku. fuck! m’ so fucking close please, please—“

cant fill you up like he wants, but settles for painting your body with splotches of white, watching them mix with your now-purpling bruises

and when izuku calls your phone on the hour to ask when you’ll be home, that cocky fuck answers

“relax. your little girlfriend and i are at the office with some reports, she’s so damn uptight...been on my dick this entire time. “

“should probably loosen her up more, maybe she’d be less annoying.”

𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘪:

he secretly loves it when you get like this

while dabi loves the rush of tossing around some brainless slut with a thing for fucking mass murderers

pussy was much better when it came with a little resistance, a little push back before he got what he wanted

“dabi come on..let her be. i’m sorry sweetness, this guy botherin’ you?”

his counterpart, keigo, was a top tier scumbag with grade-A looks, words mingling with a dulcet voice that could turn water into wine if he pleased

sienna wings bristled against his shoulder blades as he leaned down, an arm coming across your chest casually, bent over the back of the couch

“don’t call me that shit. actually, both of you are bothering me.” you grit, a hand swatting away tanned nimble fingers that were slowly making their way towards a breast

“see what i mean kei? she’s being a fucking brat. can’t stand bitches like her, always thinking they’re too good for guys like us.”

dabi takes a seat to your left, cyan eyes raking over the curve of your hips ravenously, staples gleaming in the bar’s gentle yellow glow

he was going to have so much fun breaking you in.

“ i think i know what her problem is....somebody just wants a little attention, right? hell, look at how she’s dressed...”

keigo’s eyes have taken on a darker energy, a hand winding around the width of your neck and squeezing lightly

“i don’t want anything from either of you assholes—wait, the hell are you trying to—ah!”

taking advantage of your pliant state, dabi’s hands begin to roam over exposed skin, a scarred set of hands slithering up your top

his abrasive fingers tweak your nipples roughly, rolling them between a forefinger and thumb with a lustful glare

“come on...don’t you want us to make you feel good? tell us you don’t want us to cream you like a fuckin’ twinkie, and we’ll leave your bitchy ass high and fucking dry, just like this.”

you hate them, the last thing you want is for either of these douchebags to be what gets you off

but god do keigo’s lips feel like heaven on earth when they’re against your pulse point like that, and dabi’s profuse experience shows in the way he manipulates your body to make you sigh in ecstasy, fingers slipping past drenched lace with ease to tease your sensitive clit...

“we—we shouldn’t do this out here, someone might see...s-shit, ah fuck—”

“so what? don’t want everyone to see how much you like getting double teamed?” keigo taunts, tongue darting out to soothe the harsh bruise he’d finished sucking into the skin beneath your ear

“nah, i think we’ll take you right here. besides, it’s just us and the boss man tonight. ‘should let him watch though, maybe he’d learn a thing or two about what a good fuck really looks like instead of that hentai shit.”

“so...you in or not? my hand’s starting to cramp.”

you nod, the motion serving at the catalyst for a number of debaucherous things that would soon happen to your body

marking is an absolute must

keigo’s practically feral once he knows you’re his to play with, love bites littering the expanse of your tits, neck, even the inside of your thighs

dabi marks you too, but he’s not nearly as nice as keigo, leaving handprints all over your ass, each one accompanied by a harsh yet tolerable burn

you can thank his quirk for that

they’re sloppy and they know it, dabi’s spit creating web-like strings connecting your pussy lips together, the metal barbell wedged between tongue muscle retreating from beneath your trembling thighs

meanwhile keigo’s reveling in the way your spit coats his dick in an effortless gloss, a hand keeping your head steady as he drives into your throat with reckless abandon

the saliva making its way down through the valley of your breasts while you struggle to breathe, eyes watering in both panic and pleasure as the two use you like a toy

they take turns, metal and heady sweat flood your tastebuds when dabi takes on keigo’s previous stance

dabi certainly makes sure you give his balls special attention. it doesnt enhance his pleasure, he just likes seeing you get so nasty for him.

not so high and mighty when you’re gargling the dick of one of japan’s most wanted, are you?

keigo’s dick reaches depths you didn’t think possible, tip prodding your innermost spots and making you sputter pathetically around dabi’s length, eyes burning as you try to control the heat in your lungs

“nah nah nah, don’t get all teary eyed now—thought it was “fuck us and our weak ass dick”? hm? well this weak ass dick’s makin’ you choke like a two dollar whore, and keigo’s about to pump that sloppy cunt full of cum...still think you’re better than us?”

you’re tossed between the two men like a ragdoll, until your body’s spent and you’re bred so good that you drip with their mix of fluids every time you shift a little

the men don’t hesitate to compliment your endurance, praising you for being “such a good little fucktoy”.

which in dabi’s words, is the closest you’ll ever get to a “sorry for bothering you”.

𝘢𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘸𝘢:

let me tell you a thing or two about shota.

he has no time, or tolerance, for bullshit.

between his atrocious sleep schedule, nightly patrols, and his day job as a high school teacher, he doesn’t have the capacity for mind games

so when you’d snapped on him like that, he did what he felt like was the most logical thing

he left you alone. he wasn’t about to get into some childish argument all because he didn’t give you the reaction you’d wanted over a dress

aizawa’s not a reactive man by nature

so when you’d purchased the sultry number, seams tight and neckline waivering on indecent

he’d merely hummed at the article of clothing in approval, committing the sight to memory before going back to finish reviewing his lesson plans for next week

which to you, wasn’t good enough. you wanted him to exhibit some sort of lust, something that made you feel like you still had him in the palm of your hand

it wasn’t like the two of you weren’t having sex, no not at all. but you wanted to feel like he wasn’t just attracted to you, but craved, desired, was desperate for your touch every now and again

and when he’d given his...lackluster feedback, you exploded, the two of you briefly exchanging words before you’d said that. shota was in no mood to argue, so he excused himself from the room to continue his work

“sorry if i actually want to, you know, feel desired by my own boyfriend? god, it’s like you don’t even look at me anymore.”

that comment stung, even recalling your wounded tone made his heart ache

was he really not paying attention to you?

but, unsurprisingly, the feelings of anger didn’t abate. just what made you think you could play these games with him, the two of you were grown, you knew if you wanted something all you had to do was ask—it made no sense

steel pen tip digging into the hurried scrawl of kaminari’s essay....if you could even call it that, he rose from his desk, relieved his tense neck from the presence of hair by knotting it into a high ponytail

beginning to strip as he made his way toward your shower

you wanted him to look at you? alright. he’d do exactly that, and then some. just remember, be careful what you wish for.

“shota? look... i’m sorry for how i acted earlier. i should’ve just communicated how i felt instead of blowing up on you like that, i just get frustrated with how much you work and how we never see each other, and it makes it hard for me to—mmph!”

he meets your lips with a subdued roughness, hands splayed across your hips, water trickling across stiffened knuckles while he fumbled and scoured for any piece of you he could manage to grasp

“you said you feel like i don’t look at you anymore.”

“lets fix that. i have a proposition for you. if you manage to hold eye contact with me for however long it takes for you to cum, my body’s yours to do whatever you want with.”

“however...look away for even a second, and i’ll have no problem reminding you just how much you can take before you’re begging for me to fuck you. you know how...efficient i can be. sound fair?”

now something he’d alluded to, but never said about this little agreement? there was no way for you to win.

on days where his exhaustion levels weren’t at an all time low, he’d find himself lapping at the slightly acidic, rich nectar between your thighs for hours and hours on end

so what made you think you even had the resolve to maintain eye contact the entire time?

you lose, though that was to be expected

and shota couldn’t be happier about it

now while it’s practically canon that he’s into bondage, let’s switch things up a bit

honestly, he’s the type to love proving a point.

he’ll make you ride his dick, not letting you stop for a second even though he’s practically in your stomach at this point

bad at it? he doesn’t care. your knees are giving out? not his problem.

“sho-please, i can’t, ‘s too big...fuck—“

“damn, and to think i had ‘weak ass dick’ before. now you can’t take it? pick a side sweetheart, your desperation is showing.”

he’s not incredibly vocal in the bedroom as that’s just not who he is

but makes an exception when it comes to making fun of you

“come on, you can swallow more than that, right? tch. you’ve gotten lazy.”

is another one of those “take a photo for future reference” type of people. but he’s respectful of not only your privacy but his own, and keeps it in the hidden photos folder of his camera roll like a sane adult.

he had to learn the hard way about the importance of concealing scandalous materials that one time hizashi was using screen sharing to suggest a new learning course during a staff meeting

only for the blonde to scroll and several pairs of eyes in the room to be blessed (or cursed) with the sight of a rather ecstatic looking woman bent in a position that would make a gymnast blush

also likes to give you sloppy, shallow half strokes to drive you to the point of insanity before spreading your ass cheeks and molding your body to the bed beneath you

“you wanna know what i was thinking about when you walked out with that dress on? hm? i wondered... ‘how long it would take before we used it as a cumrag after i was done with you?’ i thought about doing this.”

oh, and by the way, there’s a mirror above your bed for a reason. but we’ll get into that some other time, won’t we?

#izuku midoriya x reader #bakugo x reader #dabi x reader #hawks x reader #aizawa x reader #deku smut #bakugo smut #dabi smut #hawks smut #aizawa smut #mha smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #kittybutmakeitferal #thanks once again for 1k you nasties!

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doopdevil · 2 years

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what are you waiting for? | n.romanoff x fem!reader x s.rogers | PART THREE

PART 1 | PART 2 | MASTERLIST

warnings: cursing ; one-sided love ; angst ; anxiety ; big argument ; death ; grief

pairings: natasha romanoff x fem!reader ; steve rogers x fem!reader (not poly)

word count: 2,770

summary: natasha is at her limit, and perhaps so is steve.

a/n: just as i was about to post this, firefox crashed 😭 anyways i hope you all enjoy this part, it’s about to get real sad up in here!! also, i hope i’m not rushing the story too much. i just really want to establish a certain tone contextually, but if i’m going too slow or fast, lmk! and finally, if you’re interested, my requests are open, and i’m accepting prompts & characters from this list! thank you so so much for reading and i hope you enjoy it!

“Carol, when will you be coming back to Earth?” Natasha queried.

“Not in a while. The planet I’m at was hit hard by the snap. A civil war could break out if I don’t interfere soon.” the pilot languidly explained. Carol’s usual confident demeanor was weakening by the second. She, like the rest of them, was exhausted.

“Understood. Let’s end this meeting for now and touch base soon.” Those who remained of the Avengers said their goodbyes, leaving Natasha alone again.

The assassin visibly slumped in her seat. It was currently 6:00 p.m. Someone who cared for her, a relative or friend would tell her to make dinner. But no one was there to do so. Hours passed like minutes and before she knew it, the redhead had fallen asleep on her humongous stack of papers. A little drool soaked a document-turned pillow. She sat up with a groan and sighed. Nat thought she might as well send it in any way, as she used the sleeve of her maroon sweater to violently rub on the paper. Natasha had been having a terrible day for the past five years now. Every time she’d think that things couldn’t get worse, the universe would prove her wrong. The majority of the responsibilities of leading the Avengers fell on her, thus beginning the feeling of crushing weight on her shoulders. If Natasha wasn’t working, she was asleep, and she didn’t sleep much. She’d volunteer at the nearby shelters, help ration supplies, and work with people who had been alone like she was. Nat was no stranger to being alone. But its presence was not a friendly one. Tony was gone. He and Pepper were secluded in a little cabin, with a new toddler, and everything they needed. God knows where Bruce or Clint was. Steve would come and go, often taking missions in foreign countries. He’d do anything to avoid being in your old apartment. It was dusty and barren – and it reeked of guilt. Although the captain continued doing the best he could, most of the responsibility fell on Natasha. She continued to rub out the stain on the document with growing agitation. The crinkly tear was unpleasant, ringing in her ears as if it were mocking her. Maybe she could send a drool-stained document in, but she sure as hell couldn’t send in a ripped one. On her last nerve, she threw the contents out and began heading to her room.

Only Natasha could navigate the organized chaos that was her room. But the room had an emptiness to it. Despite being filled with things that had belonged to her, and to people she loved, they were soaked in the dust. Upon further inspection, it would’ve seemed that she hadn’t touched some of those things in years. Natasha headed towards a soft, lumpy pile that lay next to her bed. She fished a familiar item out and frowned. Y/N’s hoodie. The last time she saw you, you had eagerly lent it to her. “I know you want to be all cool and tough Nat, but you can’t fool me! Just take the damn hoodie!” The Russian was never one for being vulnerable, but she’d make an exception for you. The soft baby-blue garment scrunched up in her clutching hands, its cozy essence standing apart from everything else in the room. It was glowing with its apparent usage and obvious lack of dust. A bit smelly too. Natasha felt the need to hide every time she’d do this. She’d hold your hoodie close to her as if she were holding a hollow shell of you. The assassin refused to wash it. Somehow after all these years, she could detect your familiar scent. She took in a deep breath and held. 20 seconds had passed and she was still holding it in. It was one of the only pieces of evidence that you had indeed, existed, working against the startling fact that you were gone. When she forced herself to exhale, small, silent tears began to flow from her glassy eyes. Even all alone in the compound, she hated crying too loudly. If she remained quiet, no one would know a thing. No one would know how much she loved you.

The blonde soldier awoke with a start. He silently cursed at himself for making that mistake again. Assuming that you would be laying next to him, head tucked in his muscular arm, content and comfortable from the torments of the world. But what greeted him had been a blonde head of hair on top of a bareback that slept towards the window. Sharon Carter. Back when he refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, she was just a friend and trusted ally. A reminder of what he had lost so long ago. With you being his wife, other romantic endeavors hardly crossed his mind. And then you started to drift apart. Steve took no joy in pushing you away, but the last thing he wanted was for his dangerous life to interfere with yours. Although the captain can admit, maybe he pushed a little too far. So much in fact that he had inadvertently created a rift that neither of you could repair; all for the sake of his peace of mind. He despised that the last words exchanged between you two were so painful. “I don’t want to have children with you.” Even now, he could hear your muffled sobs behind the hotel door with a horrifying clearness. He could’ve sworn you were right next to him.

To say the captain was hesitant to date again was an understatement. When the blip had first occurred, he was dead-set on bringing you back. Even when things were the worst, he and the Avengers always found a way. Then you’d all be together again; a dysfunctional yet tightly knit family with lots of time to make up for. Steve would finally be able to tell you how sorry he is. All of his guilt and regret would come forth into the open. But now he knew that was just wishful thinking. Years had passed and he had only just mustered up the courage to ask out Sharon. That could only happen after years of guilt and grief, leading to the inevitable: acceptance. His support group helped a lot, and eventually asking Sharon out didn’t seem so self-serving. You’d want him to be happy, right? At least that’s what he kept telling himself. On nights like these, Sharon would always fall asleep immediately, leaving Steve to hold her with nothing but you in his thoughts. He couldn’t be here anymore.

Steve rose up from the bed as quietly as he could, sneaking towards a pair of shoes, his keys, and a brown leather jacket. The captain would be out for a while. He desperately needed to leave a place that made him feel like something wrong towards you; the contrary of a husband: a traitor.

“Natasha, please.”

“No.”

“I beg of you, Nat. I need this. I need you.”

“No.”

“But you’re the only one who can do this!” you cried.

Natasha sighed. She knew you’d get to her eventually. You and your alluring presence, perking up adorably at the sight of her giving in. Nat knew how delighted you’d be if she accepted, and she wasn’t one to lose out on an opportunity to make you smile. Regardless of how ridiculously childish it felt.

“Fine. I’ll get you the damn seal.”

The amusing sounds of carnival music, laughter, and tacky game effects filled the vicinity. There it stood, powerful and commanding, only a few booths away from you and Natasha. A titillating game of bullseye, all for the prize of an adorably plump seal doll. It had clearly enamored you the second you laid your eyes on its strange, and quite frankly, painful-looking ones. Poor carnival seal. If anyone had the coordination and skill to rescue it from its prison; it would be Nat. She really tried her best to seem nonchalant. But it wasn’t easy with you standing so close to her, squealing in anticipation whenever she hit the target. It felt surreal when you kissed her cheek.

“Natasha! You fucking did it!”

Nat’s face in concentration melted into a soft smirk. That fluffy seal would be your prize, and you being so happy would be hers.

“I’ll take the seal for this lovely lady,” Natasha felt bold, glancing towards you. A surge of confidence radiated off of her once she gave you the enormous plush doll. Making you happy wasn’t a chore, it was an honor.

“Nat. Thank you! You’re the best, really,” you chirped, before lunging into her for a hug. Natasha always spoiled you and it never ceased to flatter you. If anyone else had asked her to play a carnival game to get them a seal doll, she’d laugh in their face. Knowing how much she favored you, as much as you enjoyed being with her had filled you with a sense of longing.

“Anything you want Nat. You’ve dealt with me going absolutely insane over… well over all of this!” You gestured towards the scenery surrounding you. A moderately packed carnival glowed in the evening dusk, the lively lights, and chatter enough to affirm that people were still awake. You had asked Steve to go with you, but he apologetically turned down your date offer. He had a long mission in Europe to leave for, and once he was back the carnival would likely be gone. You loved these little pieces of fun in life. Small reminders of your childhood, sacred places to hide away from the clutches of adult responsibility. You were desperate for a break, and Natasha saw that when your face fell at the sight of Steve leaving. She couldn’t leave you alone like that.

“Anything?” she asked in a whisper, almost shyly.

“Yes, Natasha. Anything.”

Natasha’s eyes opened immediately, alert and prepared as always. The bright light from her phone illuminated her bleak, dark bedroom. Steve would be coming by. Great. If anything could derail that intoxicating dream, it was him. Her copper hair swished as she turned towards the clock. 6:00 a.m. It was still dark out. She had only gotten four hours of sleeping and it showed; but quite frankly, she couldn’t care less. Natasha groggily left her room to greet Steve (and maybe even punch him for waking her up.) She turned down a hall where the plexiglass window revealed a sullen Steve, sitting with his bare feet submerged by water.

With an exasperated sigh, she hugged her hoodie closer to her, as if to fight off the goosebumps that started to form.

“Isn’t it a little late for beer, Cap?”

Steve turned with a small smile.

“I think I’m entitled to a drink or two on the weekend, Nat.”

“Well then, I guess I am too,” she said as a matter-of-factly, sitting down next to him, legs crossed and shaking from the cold. In an attempt to numb herself, she swiped a fresh beer from his hand.

“I know you well enough to know when you’re upset, Steve,” Natasha continued, “Why the hell is Captain America drinking at 6 in the morning?”

Steve paused. Natasha was nothing if not relentless.

“...I feel guilty.”

“Here here, man. We’ve all been in that boat. I mean, we’re supposed to be the Avengers and we couldn’t even stop all of this bullshit.” She was clearly too tired for pleasantries.

“Don’t get me wrong Nat, I do feel that way. But I was referring to Y/N.”

She retained the sound of your name with a jolt of pain. The spy had gotten far too familiar with not hearing it. It broke her heart to notice another sign that you were fading away.

“I’ve started dating again… but I can’t stop comparing her to Y/N,” he sighed.

Natasha would begrudgingly continue to do what she had always done. The right thing. It wasn’t his fault that she was hopelessly in love with his wife.

“Steve, that girl loved you more than anything.”

“Not exactly helping, but-”

“Jeez, let me finish! I mean that she loved you enough to want you to be happy. I’m positive that the last thing she’d want is for you to spend the rest of your life in pain over her. It would break her heart. If you’re really serious about this new girl, appreciate her for what she is rather than what she’s not.”

“I guess that is what she’d want,” he paused.

“What do you want, Nat?” Steve suddenly asked, cloudy blue eyes glancing towards her.

“World peace. A Thanos torture chamber. Another beer, perhaps. What do you mean?”

“You’re wearing her hoodie.”

Natasha was at a loss for words. She’d wear the thing so much she hadn’t taken into account that people would remember it belonged to you. Steve was frowning, staring down into the water with a hesitant look. He began to speak, his tone pained and honest.

“I’m not an idiot Nat. I should know if one of my best friends is in love with my wife.”

“I… don’t want to talk about this with you.”

“If you have something to say, just say it. You’ve been itching to punch my face for years now, haven’t you?” he asked.

She had managed to keep her emotions in check for all these years, and she wasn’t going to give up now. Not because Steve was depressed with a death wish. Natasha briskly got up, itching to leave whatever this was.

“I’m not mad, Nat. I just want to talk about Y/N with someone who understands-”

“No, you fucking don’t!” So much for keeping it all in.

“For years, I have stood by while you were with her. I let you because I thought you could handle it, treat her better than I ever could. And then you fucking leave her for the niece of your ex? Unlike you, I will not stop fucking mourning. I refuse to stop until I’ve torn apart every last bit of those who’ve taken her from me, and you just gave up! Why do you get everything for not doing a damned thing?” Her emotions spilled out like wildfire, finally bursting into flame after years of being contained. Regardless of the aggressive nature of her words, she was honest. That was enough for her.

For a second time that night, Steve had felt guilty. He shouldn’t have brought it up. Here he was, picking a fight with the woman who had only sought to put everything back together. Before he could speak, her confused voice filled the silence.

“Someone’s at the door,” both of their eyes instinctively bored into the surveillance screen as if they hadn’t even been arguing in the first place.

“Oh my god.”

“What is it?”

“It’s Scott.”

Shock. It tore through your body like rose thorns, paralyzing you in a state of utter confusion. You were back in the hotel as if all of the dust had come together the second you broke apart. Although, it was different. Your eyes scanned the room frantically. Somehow, it was no longer the same bedroom you were in seconds ago. Now it was a sort of sitting room. Whose apartment was this?

In a frenzy you ran for the door, desperate for answers. All of your belongings from what used to be your hotel room were gone, leaving you with no phone and even more questions. You sped down the stairs into the lobby, desperate for even a glimpse of someone else. What you had descended into was chaos. People were running around the ostentatiously decorated lobby, just as confused as you were.

“This man keeps calling my apartment his fucking hotel room!”

“I swear, I didn’t break-in. That was my hotel room before-”

Before he disappeared, you thought. You weren’t the only one to disintegrate into ash. Just how many people were gone? Running towards the doorman, you begged him to let you borrow his phone. Glancing onto the screen, you were taken aback. 2023? What the fuck? In a state of hysterics, you called a number Natasha had given to you months ago, or perhaps years ago, in case of emergencies.

The phone rang.

It continued.

You chewed your lip nervously. Where was she?

The ringing was tearing you apart, tears filling your eyes at the lack of her voice. Silence had never been so deafening.

“Y/N?” You had never felt so relieved or heard Natasha sound so vulnerable. Her voice was shaking with an unfamiliar tremble.

“Natasha?”

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fizzycherrycola · 2 years

Text

PrUK, June 1815

Set after the Battle of Waterloo, this is my submission for @historical-hetalia-week.

Warning: Blood, smoking, description of a battlefield.

Inspired by the phrase: “Buddies in Bad Times.”

Mars at Rest

Waterloo, Belgium; 18 June, 1815

Cracking against flint, a match sparks and burns, breaking the deathly silence.

Prussia brings the flame to his pipe, lighting the tobacco, watching it glow red before he inhales that woody, calming scent, letting it fill his bloodstream and permeate his mind. It doesn’t do much to dull the throbbing ache of his muscles, bruised and overtaxed, pricking in sour protest of every shift and gesture, but it quells the final itch of caution, a nagging leftover from the battle, dying out at last. Shutting his eyes, he exhales, long and slow, then turns to gaze upon the shattered countryside.

The field of victory is never a pretty sight.

Belgium’s rolling hills are riddled with bodies, military uniforms dotting the landscape in navy, crimson, and black. A few fires are smouldering here and there, dark smoke billowing off of charred grassland and wool fabric, torn flags rippling from the heat. Among the dead, like phantoms, riderless horses stand quiet, their heavy heads hanging low; sad statues lost without their masters. Dusk soaks the scene in a strange, muted haze, with clouds catching the sunset and blazing as they sink below the earth.

It’s a familiar view and Prussia idly wonders how many battles he has witnessed in his abnormally long life. Hundreds? Thousands? The uniforms and weapons may change, but in his memory, the conflicts all blend together in a sea of blood, a churning stew of grisly images stretching back to the Crusades. The shock and horror long ago morphed into tepid acceptance, better suited for survival, because when staring down a brigade of stampeding dragoons, there is no time for doubt, and the field of failure is a far worse sight than this.

Turning his back to the sullied terrain, Prussia puts his hand on a short, crumbling brick wall, barely more than a fence now, and hops, throwing his boots over the side to perch atop it. His tendons sting, a mild jolt of pain shooting up his wrist, but he ignores it; he rarely listens to his body, anyway.

“You look like shit,” Prussia tells his exhausted ally.

Barely upright, England is sitting on the ground, leaning against a broken cannon wheel that got stuck in the rubble. Coat draping his shoulders, he holds his bandaged side, red seeping through, and still manages the strength to glare up at Prussia, putting those impressive eyebrows to good use.

“And whose fault is that?” he grunts, voice dry and hoarse.

“My best guess would be France,” Prussia teases, popping the pipe between his teeth.

It certainly isn’t his own fault; Blücher had him awake and on horseback before dawn, in near-darkness, marching with fifty thousand armed men at a relentless pace. With a glowing pride behind his ribcage, he witnessed their discipline and how they shoved away exhaustion. They trudged past swollen rivers and muddy swamps to reach the battle in time and hurl themselves at The Emperor’s army; leaping into death’s jaws for duty, glory, and all the inspiring nonsense their superiors shouted about.

“I’ve been fighting since eleven, this morning,” England clips.

Prussia shrugs, a leisurely roll of his shoulders that cracks his joints. “You can’t pin this on me, not when I gallantly saved your ass and won the fight.”

“Gallantly?”

“Besides, I started marching before sunrise.”

England’s eyes go wide and, ever the storm cloud, he blusters: “Then what, in God’s name, took you so bloody long?! If you had arrived even 30 minutes later, Wellington’s entire force would’ve been routed and we’d have lost the damn continent a second time! Can you imagine what would’ve happened if--…. Agh....” He grimaces, eyes squeezing shut, and folds over his injury.

Sniffing, rolling the pipe stem over his tongue, Prussia gives his companion a moment before replying. “Calm down, old man. You’ll tear your stitches open.”

With an annoyed groan, England slumps against the wheel, head tilted back. He’s not in any shape to be shouting; a crumpled mess in the grass, sweat and dirt caking his freckled cheeks. The dark cherry smear is wide, probably from a sword, reaching around his bandaged belly from front to back in a half-circle, a nasty slice that would’ve quickly slain a mortal man. Leaning in, Prussia gestures at the wound. “Did you at least get him back for that?”

England cracks one eye open, an adamant emerald cutting through his dishevelled features. “’Course I did,” he croaks. “Just who do you take me for?”

Prussia cannot help the grin that splits across his face. Even in such a state, England isn’t one to go quietly, not ever, and certainly not against France. At Villinghausen, he took an artillery round to his right arm, and instead of lying down, he hastily shed his scabbard belt and made it into a tourniquet, snarling as he tied off his mangled limb. He fights death with every iota of his being, clawing at it with his bare fingers when he has to. In him is a tenacity, a brilliant refusal to comply with fate.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Prussia says, and England grunts, in the typical way that he does when accepting a compliment. “Do you know where you’re headed next?”

“Not at the moment. I’ll need to drag my bloody arse back to camp for a briefing.”

“If you’d like, I can bring you a cane.” England frowns, a deadpan look that tickles the corners of Prussia’s mouth. “Or maybe, I could take a cannon off its wheels, fashion a wheelbarrow, and cart you over there.”

“If you’re going to continue to mock me, you could at least offer me your pipe.”

Snorting a chuckle, Prussia obliges, sliding off the beaten wall, pebbles and dust shifting in his wake. He crouches down to his knees and passes his pipe, ignoring the rusty odour that drenches his companion, the pungent taste biting past the tobacco. England takes the piece, a languid thumb smearing blood on the bowl, and Prussia sits back, plopping onto the grass.

“We should get drinks again,” he mentions.

Lips curled over the stem, England sucks in a deep breath, then exhales. “Hm. Tempting.”

“Did you know that you get drunk faster when you’ve lost a lot of blood?”

“I do, unfortunately. Learned that in the Middle Ages. But I’m in no state for drinking tonight.”

Of course not. It won’t happen, not tonight and probably not tomorrow. Nothing less than total destruction will do; Wellington and Blücher will have them chasing after Napoleon Bonaparte like hounds on a hunt. It could be weeks before they can relax again, as they did after the last war ended.

“In Paris, then. When all this shit is over.”

England smirks. “Fine, but it’ll be on your coin.”

Amused, Prussia’s eyebrows fly up. “Oh ho! You're going to burn through my wallet? That’s the thanks I get for saving your army?”

“Think of it as restitution for arriving late.”

“Arschloch.”

“Twat.”

Prussia smiles, forgetting the world for a moment, until his back twinges and he has to flex again, twisting his lower spine with a crack and settling lazily, chin resting in his palm. He threads his free fingers in the blades of trampled grass, and if he concentrates, he can imagine it still thundering with horse hooves. He’ll write about this day, scrawl it into his journal and preserve it, violence and agonising victory. Another monumental event whisked away by time.

“I’m guessing this campaign will last a couple weeks,” he murmurs. “Maybe a month, at most.”

“Quite likely.”

“The Thief of Europe doesn’t have much time left.”

England squints. “Why do you sound disappointed at that?”

Prussia sighs, plucking a dry weed from the dirt. “He’s... different from other humans. People like him are only born once a century, and when he’s gone, that’ll be it. God, I wish I’d arrived earlier today, witnessed his genius strategies from start to finish.”

“You admire Napoleon Bonaparte?”

Prussia nods. “As a tactician, yeah, I do.”

England balks. “He ruined your army not ten years ago.”

Prussia tosses the weed aside, sees it land on a pile of smouldering fabric.

Those weeks were as startling as they were cruel; he watched, appalled, as his mighty military was obliterated in just 19 days by a damn Corsican. Cold hate knotted his stomach and he wished to cut the general down himself. But, when Bonaparte entered Berlin, he visited the tomb of Frederick the Great and instructed his marshals to remove their hats, saying, “If he were alive, we wouldn't be here today.” And the sight seized Prussia like a pair of iron tongs grabbing coal, immediately seeing the similarities between Old Fritz and this new ruler, igniting respect and melting his bitter anger.

What a loss it is that Bonaparte isn’t of Prussian lineage.

“Flawlessly,” Prussia declares, passion stirring in his chest. “Nearly every action he takes is flawless. How he rallies his troops, the speed of his attacks, the level of cunning he uses to out-manoeuvre his opponents...!” He releases his fists to the sky, shoulders high and back straight. “Bonaparte might be insane, but he wages war like he was born for it.”

Blinking, England’s mouth contorts in disgust, as if Prussia just blew his nose obnoxiously loud. When he gives no response, Prussia doesn’t slump, exactly, but his hands fall and disappointment needles at his heart. On second thought, it may be a little rude to brazenly praise the bastard who slapped the shit out of every army in Europe... including England’s, just an hour ago. “Ah, never mind.”

“You’re vile and you have a terrible taste in personal role models.” Although England speaks bluntly, the comment lacks true venom, sounding more like a report on peach farming than a judgement of character. He returns to the pipe, puffing fumes like a London chimney stack.

“I’ve got amazing taste,” Prussia boasts. “That includes my tobacco and maybe my halfway decent sense for allies, too.”

England coughs, hacking up a lung full of smoke before he frowns and looks away. The faint colour on his cheeks would be brighter if he hadn’t lost blood. Prussia snickers.

Perhaps he is vile, but war is an unstoppable force. It will be here, until the end of days, and it has never done Prussia any good to waste time ruminating over its monstrosities or wallowing in the shadow of defeat. After the punishing mistakes of Jena and Auerstedt, he studied, pouring over accounts of Bonaparte’s battles, reading until his eyes were bloodshot, and when asleep, he dreamt of battalion formations scribbled across a map. Every revelation was scratched into his journals, pages upon pages of tactical strategies interwoven with jealous praise, because damn it all, France didn’t deserve such a magnificent general.

Regardless, he resolved to find a use for his painful failure, for the eradication of his brave men, and, if this recent victory is anything to go by, he succeeded, climbing over the wall of the dead to return stronger tomorrow.

England shifts, eyes catching something and he slouches. “Christ,” he mutters.

“Huh?”

“Here they come, now. New orders.”

Turning, Prussia at first sees nothing amiss. A few soldiers on horseback are ghosting over the slumbering site, weaving between bodies, torches held high to light their way in the sluggish darkness. They may be hussars, searching for any injured souls to rush away for medical treatment, but it’s more likely that they are commanders, taking vague stock of their casualties to draw up reports.

Then he spots it, a lone rider is approaching them at a trot.

Tall on his mare, shako and red uniform unsullied, the soldier lumbers closer and comes to a halt. He gazes down at them; a pale torch casts flickering light over his stern, olive eyes.

“Netherlands,” Prussia greets, waving at the giant. “Good to see you’re alive.”

“Indeed,” Netherlands responds, a deep thrum in the evening air. Aside from his gaunt features, made worse by the wars, his face betrays little. His smiles are rarer than England’s, but for that matter, his scowls are just as uncommon. A stony and mild-mannered man; perhaps that’s why he found success in commercial business. “I’m here at Wellington’s request.”

England sighs. “Let’s hear it, then.”

“I’m tracking down each of us; we are all to meet at an inn,” Netherlands explains, gesturing with his torch. “It’s just down the hill, at the centre of the battlefield.”

Prussia frowns, a knot forming in his stomach. “Did you say you’re tracking people down?” He could help; pushing past the soreness in his frame is no issue. However, there are several thousand dead in the field with night falling and he has neither horse nor light.

“How many of us are still missing?” England asks.

“Only a few,” Netherlands says. “Most are on their way to the inn as we speak, but I’m still looking for Scotland and Hanover.”

Prussia gnaws his lip. “Fuck, I saw them.”

Netherlands straightens, his gaze snapping to Prussia. “Were they near a farmhouse?”

“Yeah,” Prussia pushes himself to stand, ignores his creaking bones, and points to one of several brick buildings in the distance. “Not the one on fire, but the other one, on the left.”

Those tiny spaces saw incredible chaos, a screaming whirlwind of bayonets and musket fire boxed into humble kitchens, spilling out of windows and stable doors. It was no surprise that when Prussia arrived, darting through a gap in the infantry line, he found Hanover broken. Decorated in dust and bullet holes, wounds weeping blood, he couldn’t speak above a wheeze. In the heat of battle, Prussia could only stuff him behind a heap of straw, tell him to keep quiet, and scour the arena for a medical officer. He found one only after his men took the building and directed the soldier to Hanover’s location.

Hopefully, he didn’t succumb to his injuries.

Prussia relays this to Netherlands and the Dutchman gives a firm nod.

“Thank you,” he says, turning his horse to the farmhouse. “I must continue searching. Once I’ve finished, I’ll join you at the inn.”

“Very well, then,” England murmurs.

With that, Netherlands departs, his mare thumping across churned soil and his torch flame receding into the blue dusk.

England hands Prussia the pipe and gingerly pulls his jacket on, his torn shirt and bruised skin taking shelter under red wool. “You saw Scotland, too?” he casually asks, averting his gaze.

“Yeah,” Prussia answers, tapping his pipe, dumping out the ashes and spent tobacco. “Don’t worry. He had a few scrapes, but he’ll be fine.”

“I wasn’t worried,” England mutters. He glares at the buttons on his coat, wincing as he attempts to close them around his battered torso. Prussia busies himself by wiping a handkerchief over his piece, catching England’s subtle glances and the tension in his fingers. “How do you know he’ll manage?”

“Because when I asked him if he needed saving, he told me to ‘fuck off.’”

England’s grimace softens, his lips curling upward just slightly and Prussia can pretend he didn’t see that, because relationships between brothers can be complicated, sometimes. Stashing the pipe away in his haversack, he hefts the bag over his shoulders, its firm weight pressing down on his sore back. He huffs, stretching and shaking out his irritated limbs to wake them up. Then, he moves to help England stand.

“Absolutely not,” England snaps, gripping the cannon to pull himself up and steady his wobbly knees.

“You’re going to walk a whole kilometre like that?” Prussia snorts.

“Shut it.” Brow furrowed in concentration, England extends an arm for balance and delicately shuffles one foot forward. He’s stable for a moment, until he tries a second step and buckles, stumbling into Prussia, who catches him easily.

Prussia tuts. “Nah. It’ll be morning by the time you get down the hill, Herr Eyebrows. Come on, let’s go.” He swoops a hand under England’s arm, the one on his good side, and drags him into a walk assist.

“Oi!” England squawks as his arm is tugged around the back of Prussia’s neck. “Just wait a moment, you prick.”

Naturally, Prussia ignores his protests and they start hobbling towards the inn. England continues muttering half-hearted curses for a bit before settling into silence. It’s another minute or so until he leans on Prussia properly, and Prussia pulls his stubborn companion closer, guiding the awkward steps of their dirty boots through the fouled pasture. He can’t help thinking it’d be a lot nicer if he was carrying England out of a tavern instead.

A cool wind carries the scent of gunpowder and other burning things that overpower the rural air. Dim twilight transforms puddles of blood into ink and corpses into obscure, lumpy masses of shadow. Prussia directs their route through the quiet field, squinting in the dark at things that may be shakos or rocks, branches or muskets.

“Look at the state of it,” England grumbles. “I’ll kill the frog all over again for this mess.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind breaking military code for schnapps right now,” Prussia admits. And then, he has a thought, a twisting queasiness that’s probably nothing, but.... “Hey, are those drinks still on, in Paris?” Pupils flicking over Prussia’s face, England tilts his head and quirks a shaggy brow. Quickly, Prussia delivers a cocksure grin, switching to a more joking tone. “Did I scare you off with my war talk?”

A pause, then England exhales through his nose, turning so Prussia only sees his straw hair. “No, don't be ridiculous. I know what you meant.” His fingers curl around the shoulder strap of Prussia’s uniform and he glances back, face set in a haughty look, eyebrows up and lids low. “I’ll come. Just so long as you shut up about how much you love French generals.”

Prussia’s barking laugh fades to a sigh and his cheeks hurt from smiling. “All right, I can promise that.”

They go on, walking together through hell, burdens made milder in solidarity. Maybe Prussia is a hypocrite, he thinks, aweing at the genius of war, but also wanting it to be done, tiring of it and the stench of decay. How it drives splinters under his skin, bruises his friends and steals their respite, their freedom to while away time as they please.

Regardless, they will outlast The Emperor, his battles, and whatever comes next. They will earn their peace soon enough.

End / Fin

~~~

Author’s Notes

Waterloo is currently located in present-day Belgium. However, in 1815, this land was officially controlled by the United Kingdom of the Netherlands. Belgium would become independent in 1830.

Many historians disagree on what time the Battle of Waterloo began, with some sources saying the fighting started at 11:30. I had England say “eleven” as a rough estimate based on his own assumptions, like the direction of the sun.

Blücher was the Prussian commander during the battle. Wellington commanded the Anglo-Allied army.

“We’d have lost the damn continent a second time!” This is probably not true. England is exaggerating because he’s upset and his stab wound makes him feel vulnerable.

Villinghausen was a battle that took place in 1761 during the Seven Years’ War.

Arschloch = Asshole.

Although Prussia wishes he could’ve seen Napoleon’s tactics at Waterloo, he probably would’ve been disappointed, since Napoleon made several strategic errors in the battle.

Hussars are a light cavalry unit. Shakos are a type of military hat.

After losing to Napoleon in 1806, the Prussian army went through a massive overhaul. Many improvements were made and commanders were instructed to study Napoleon’s tactics for future wars.

At Waterloo, the Prussian and Anglo-Allied armies defeated the French, which was a devastating loss to Napoleon. It eventually led to his abdication and final surrender, just weeks later.

#aph england #aph prussia #pruk #hws prussia #hws england #aph netherlands #hws netherlands #hetalia fanfiction #historical hetalia #gilbert beilschmidt #arthur kirkland #hetalia #historicalhetaliaweek #hhw day 7 #set in 1800s #blood cw #war cw #injury cw #my writing

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riddikulus-writings · 3 years

Text

Escapades

A/N: I don't write porn but the new The Suicide Squad movie has re-woken my Joel Kinnaman thirst and here we are, trying out my hand. I also accidentally wrote a part two if you want to read it here

Word Count: 1115

Pairing: Rick Flag x Reader [Codename Nyx, after the Greek Goddess]

Warnings: No plot. At all. Vague knowledge of writing sexual escapades. Choking. Slight breeding kink. Creampie. Unprotected P in V sex [wrap it before you tap it, guys!!] Rick won't shut the hell up during drunk bathroom sex. Bad pun at the end?

That’s when they found themselves crashing backwards into the small bathroom nestled in the back of the bar. Stumbling over one another in their sudden fervor to be tangled up. The second the door kicked shut, clothes were ripped off. Rick’s shirt slung over the top of the stall. Nyx’s pants slid from one leg. She was pinned to the wall, one leg slung over his hip. Rick’s grip bruising on her thighs as he moved his lips up her neck back to bite at her bottom lip. Panties shucked to the side, he slid two fingers over her the wet slit of her sex before pushing them inside and curling.

He eagerly swallowed the sweet sounds she made as he worked her open. Reveled in the way her hips rocked against his hand. One hand slid up his neck, knocked off his hat to grab at his hair and the other raked trailed down his bare shoulders. He moved to bury his face in her shoulder, “All this for me? Listen to that-- you‘re soaked. Such a good girl for me, yeah?”

Nyx whimpered something desperate and bit into his shoulder in a failed attempt to muffle her whines-- all it did was spur a growl from his chest. Rick felt her tense, could feel her release building up and he pulled free his fingers. Nyx’s head fell back, her mouth open, about to protest when he stuck his fingers in her mouth, “Taste yourself.”

Either she does or he does. He’d rather his first taste be straight from the source.

His other hand began working at his belt and suddenly her hands were there, instead, batting his away. Rick slid his hands underneath her shirt, fingertips skimming along her skin with feathery touches that became weighted to her ribs like bricks when her hand clasped around his cock.

His hips moved almost on their own as she stroked him. Rick’s eyes fell shut, mouth open. They were forehead to forehead and Nyx couldn’t help the almost evil grin she had when she heard his desperate pants as she worked him. When she slid her thumb over his tip his eyes shot back open and he hiked her leg higher up on his hip, “Keep that there, sweetheart.”

Again, she’d opened her mouth for a snarky half-drunk remark that slid to a sharp gasp when he pulled her drenched panties to the side, again, and drove himself in to the hilt in one slick movement, “Ah-fuck--”

“Yeah?” he pulled her other leg up, pressing her further into the wall, “You like that?”

She loved it. Basked in the stretch of him filling her. The filthy sounds, the almost pornographic groans falling from his lips. Her spine scraped up the wall with every thrust of his hips meeting hers and all she could do was cry out his name. He leaned in and captured her lips once more. It was an aggressive kiss, teeth and tongue and the sweet spicy tang of Fernet.

Even though the hot kisses she wouldn't shut up, her groans echoing through the cramped space. Rick smiled against her lips, "Be quiet."

"I-- can't," she gasped out, breaths jerking with every slide of his cock through her folds.

Nyx's already fuzzy world spun suddenly and she was standing on her own two feet, bent over the small ceramic sink. She was about to protest about the lack of Rick filling her senses but the idea was interrupted when her panties were ripped and he once again entered her in one full thrust.

His hand found her throat, pulling her back up against him, "All that mouthing off and it takes finally fuckin' you to shut you up?"

Desperate nods had her cheek rubbing against his stubble, "Uh-huh. Uh-huh--- yes, fuck, Rick--"

"Fuck, you're so damn tight, sweetheart." His eyes found them in the smudged mirror and he had to slow his hips to prevent from coming right then; Nyx was flushed, mouth hanging open. Eyes rolling, hair falling in her face. An evil grin spread over his kiss-swollen lips at the sight and he grunted out, "Look how pretty you are, taking my cock like this."

She didn't open her eyes and his grip on her throat tightened, pulling another desperate moan from her; another coat of her slick coated his cock, her cunt gripping him even tighter than before. "I said look."

Finally her eyes opened and both her hands moved from the edges of the sink to his forearm, fingernails digging in, “Rick, I’m gonna--”

“I got you, I got you,” he muttered, free hand finding her clit to help her through her impending orgasm, “C’mon, baby, cum on my cock.”

She did, gritting out his name in a whispered chant. If it weren’t for his legs bracing hers open, he was sure her legs would’ve clamped shut. Her whole body tensed up, cunt clenching and fluttering around him unbelievably hard as he worked her through wave after wave. At this angle he couldn’t silence her, save for the grip around her throat, but even then Nyx was quite vocal. His own release was close, his hips stuttering in their rhythm. His voice came out in a whine, “Want me to fill you up? Feel me drippin’ down your legs the rest of the night? Fuckin’ pretty little filthy thing.”

“Oh, God, please.,” she’d turned her head, nestling her face in the crook of his neck as she moved her hips back against his, “Please, fuckin’ breed me please please oh fuck--”

He pressed into her, grinding against something devastating inside her as he reached his peak, painting her walls in thick ropes as he pinned her against the edge of the sink. They stayed like that, her pussy still fluttering around his softening cock, her legs shaking. He turned his head and pressed his nose to her temple, taking slow deep breaths as he reveled in her.

Five minutes? A half hour? Their drunken haze had gotten worse if anything, but after an unknown amount of time she’d finally found her voice, “Where are my pants?”

Finally, he eased out of her, chuckling quietly. “Around your ankle.”

Somehow, getting dressed was more intimate than the previous activities. They helped each other right themselves, straightening each other out. Smoothing wrinkled clothes, flattening wild hair. Nyx picked his cowboy hat from the dark tiled floor, setting atop her own head, “This is mine, now, cowboy.”

He creaked the door open, holding it for her. Rick had to lean in extra close so she could hear his quiet remark over the loud music of the bar, “Gonna save a horse, later?”

#Rick Flag smut #Rick Flag #Rick Flag x reader #The Suicide Squad #rick flag x you #Rick Flag The Suicide Squad #dc #dceu #dcu #rick flag x female reader #suicide squad fan fiction #suicide squad fanfiction #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag imagine #rick flag oneshot #dceu fanfiction

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theepisceswriter · 3 years

Text

JJK men based off songs in my sex playlist (Nanami, Gojo, Toji, Ijichi)

A/N: my poundtown post just hit 1K today, so I had to come through and deliver my JJK besties with some new content since I haven’t posted anything for them in a while. I hope you guys enjoy ! 💜

Synopsis: Sex songs I think go with the men of JJK + specific lyrics + a small Drabble based off of those lyrics, not using the lyrics as words, but scenarios kinda

TW: mature things obviously, long post bc each Drabble is 300 words+, roughness and degrading & public sex for Toji, mommy kink and teasing for Ijichi, 18+, MINORS DNI!

NANAMI: Dance For You by Beyoncé

Loving you is really all that's on my mind

And I can't help but to think about it day and night

I wanna make that body rock

Sit back and watch

Tonight I'm gonna dance for you

“Think of our bedroom as a strip club tonight.” Your hands traveled up the length of Nanami’s arms until you got up to his collar bones, using the elevated height the heels gave you to your advantage as you pushed him back into the clothed chair you had stolen from the living room, having thought this whole night out in advance to make sure Nanami left the bedroom the next morning for work beyond satisfied and rushing back home to you for round two. It’s what the man deserved after working as hard as he did all the time; a little stress reliever to make him forget about paperwork and the confinements of a work desk for once.

“No touching. I can touch you, but you can’t touch me.” You ordered, earning no sign of protest from the blonde, as you made your way over to the speaker where the soft sensual melodies were ready to go and infiltrating the room as soon as you pressed play. With your face turned to the wall, you could only wish to see his initial reaction when you dropped your robe to reveal your lingerie clad body, the red of the lacy garments and matching garter complimenting your skin beautifully which was only accentuated by the dim lighting of the candles you had placed around the room.

You turned around just in time for you to catch Nanami shifting in the confines of the chair so he could manspread his legs out and it didn’t take long for your eyes to find out that the erection pressing against his work slacks was the reason why. Getting down on your knees, you crawled over to where he was situated in slow movements mimicking that of a lion or panther with your back arched as far as it could to give him a nice view of your ass. A thousand blinding suns couldn’t take his attention away from you. His glaring gaze you could feel on you despite his signature glasses covering his pupils.

Your hands slid from his ankles up to his thighs, teasingly grazing at his erection with your breast making a small grunt fall from his lips, up until they were at his shoulders. Which you then used to prop yourself up on his lap with, testing the sorcerer's patience with each languid movement of your hips against his laps. It was barely a swirl and more of a ghosting feeling than an actual one, but my god was it still driving him crazy. And as if that wasn’t enough, your hands moved behind your back to unclip the decorative bra you had on and allow it to fall down your chest until your hardened nipples were exposed to his gazing eyes, discarding of it somewhere in the room as you threw it over his head.

“Come here.” He finally spoke up, broad hands grabbing ahold of your waist and moving you so your crotch was directly over his. He had enough of the teasing and dancing, he needed you right here right now. His hands roamed all over your body, even pausing at the meat of your ass to grope it momentarily, before his hands were trailing up your chest and stopping right at the hilt of your breast. Taking each of them into his large hands as he leaned forward in one swift movement to take one of your hard nubs into his mouth, gently biting down on it before soothing the burning sensation with his warm tongue.

“Daddy hasn’t been taking care of you like he should of been lately, hm? I’m going to make up for the whole week tonight, babygirl. Fuck you soo good until you’re begging me to stop.”

GOJO: On the Way by Jhene Aiko

Got me squirtin', take off the sheets

I want you to see it

You're what this pussy needed

“Come on, I know that pretty pussy of yours has more to give to me.”

You could hear the teasing smirk in Gojo’s mocking words from above and if the tears pooling in your eyes with each painful overstimulating thrust of his fingers into your sore pussy mixed with the override of your senses from nearing your 3rd, possibly 4th, back to back orgasm, didn’t have your eyes so blurry then you would’ve looked up and saw the exact same image of the blue-eyed man you were envisioning.

“I-I can’t Gojo, it’s too much,” But despite the whimpering and protests that left your lips the fast fucking of his slender fingers in your cunt don’t stop at all. At least not like you had hoped, the white haired individual pausing only to discharge a wad of spit on your clit to massage in with his rough thumb. Your poor pussy is too weak at this point to even clench at his fingers, but the picking up of your breathing and flushing of your cheeks is enough for him to know that you’re nearing the edge.

His fingers covered and slippery with your slick curve up inside of you warranting a sob to rip from your lips. His three fingers that work the inside of you as good as his cock mixed with the gentle massaging of your clit is all too good to the point where it's mind-numbingly good. You don’t even have time to warn him of the warm feeling in the pits of your uterus getting really to flood out before your eyes are rolling to the back of your head and you’re choking on any words that are trying to escape your lips.

You can feel the warm clear liquid gushing out of you, the insides of your thighs soaking wet with the substance and the spongy noises that infiltrate your ears as Gojo works you down from your high and milk you of every last drop of your squirt.

“Good fucking girl,” He praises you with a low growl, fingers finally slipping out of you for the first time in the last 30 minutes. “Are you finally ready for my cock now?”

IJICHI: Yeah, I Said It by Rihanna

Yeah, I said it,

I want you to fuck me tied up

The trace of your taste on the panties you had stuffed into Ijichi’s mouth has him salivating until it’s dripping down the sides of his mouth, wanting and eager to taste you and hoping that you’ll take some mercy on him and finally give in to what he wanted. His cock is red and sore from the cockring you placed around his balls, making sure he wouldn’t get any release even if you were generous enough to gift him with the warmth of your folds, but most importantly it was standing straight up at your attention; aching and waiting to see what your next move would be. It’s not like he had even an inch of dominance in his body to grab you and just take you, but even if he did he wouldn’t be able to because of the restraints you had placed around his wrists and ankles to tie him to the bed. The flesh around them red and sore from trying to do their best to wiggle out of their grip.

He wanted you so bad to the point where it hurt him, but he also wanted to stay tied up waiting until you were ready to use him.

A quiet gasp tore itself from his lips when he felt the ghosting fingers of your soft fingertips dance upwards on his thighs and gently rub up against the ache that was his erection, allowing it to jerk in your direction as a reflex.

“My poor baby.” You finally spoke up with a hint of remorse, your words cooing softly.

The dewy flushness of his cheeks from crying finally getting to you. Not to mention that you had finally reached your wits end and wanted him just as bad as he wanted you in this moment. Removing the underwear from his mouth you replaced them with your tongue and lips only for a couple of seconds before you were pulling away to say, “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.” Your lips trailed from the side of his mouth down to his chest until you were at his nipples, toying with the sensitive flesh with your tongue to fluster him even more.

“I need your pussy.” His voice is hoarse and choked up from finally being allowed to speak after so long. Words that he would usually find dirty and too embarrassing to speak out loud flying out of his lips like its nothing, cheeks flushed with pink after the realization. “I need you, mommy. I need you so bad.”

“Good boy.” You praise him as you take your straddling position on his lap. The simple task of you taking his cock in his hand to remove the cockring already having him ready to cum. Rubbing his red swollen tip along your folds to collect some of your wetness until you’re satisfied with the pleading whines that leave his lips and sink down on him until you’re at his hilt.

“Mommy is going to give you exactly what you want like promised.”

TOJI: Anytime, Any Place by Janet Jackson

I don't wanna stop just because

People walking by are watching us

I don't give a damn what they think

I want you now

“Turn around.” Toji’s words were practically growled out at you as he grabbed ahold of your wrists and turned you around on his own accord against the grimy cold brick wall of the alley before you could even comply with his words. Too wanting and needing for the warm hug of your walls around his cock to wait for you on his own accord. It wasn’t his fault he was feening for you so badly to the point where he pulled you out of the hole in the wall club and had you pressed up against the rough brick wall adorning an alley that led to it. If it wasn’t for that tight skirt you knew he liked, the one that adorned your curves beautifully and showed off enough thigh that had his cock painfully hard the moment he saw you, then maybe the two of you could’ve had a normal night out as a couple, but alas you weren’t.

You could hear the rustling of the fabric holding Toji’s pants up come undone from behind you, the sound only making your thighs press together from excitement having been conditioned by that sound to know exactly what was coming next. His thick erection was pressing against the backside of your skirt in an instant, his warm breath fanning over your neck as he positioned himself directly behind you as close as close would let him. You teasingly wiggled your ass up against his throbbing cock which only egged him on more, the girth of his length slipping inside of you with ese before he could even fully crinkle your skirt up around your waist. The sudden intrusion had you biting your lip to hold back your moans, but that only warranted Toji to wedge his fingers between your jaws to force your mouth to stay open.

“I want them to hear every single moan and whine that comes from between those pretty lips of yours. Let them know that you’re getting fucked out in the public like the slut you are.” One hand came to your waist to press you back against him and give you no choice but to take every inch of his cock as he pounded into you ruthlessly like the two of you were in the confinement of your bedroom and not indeed in some random alley that anyone could come into any minute like the two of you had done.

With his other free hand he grabbed at a large chunk of your hair and forcefully tugged your hair back until your eyes were met with his feral ones, tears brimming in your eyes from a mixture of pain and pleasure that always came with his actions and soon saliva began to drip down your chin from the way he was forcefully holding it open. You couldn’t talk and warn him of the two strangers looking at you two from further down in the alley even if you wanted too, but your eyes moving to their direction instead of him gave him a big enough hint.

“Let them stare,” He growled as the force of his thrusts made your hips hit against the wall, sure to leave a bruise, “Let them see how you let me fuck the shit out of you until you’re a blabbering fucking mess.”

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tripleaxeldiaz · 3 years

Text

nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy

read on ao3

Eddie’s fine. Really. He’s got a fresh scar on his right shoulder, a twin to his other one, and a couple more medical bills to pay off, but other than that, everything is good.

Why shouldn’t it be? Things could be worse — he could’ve lost his arm, could’ve been shot in the spine instead, could’ve not survived the trip to the hospital. But he did — he’s healed, he’s still breathing, and he’s ready to get back to work on Monday, to stop staring at the inside of his house and get back to the life he’d finally started to feel settled in. There’s a twinge in his chest every time he thinks about actually being back out in the field, but it’s just nerves, a small worry at getting back into the swing of things. He knows the team and how well they work together, so he’s sure one rope rescue with Buck is all it’ll take to feel normal again.

He’s fine. Or almost fine. Really, he is. He doesn’t let the tremble in his hands or the ice in his gut tell him otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t really register, the first time it happens. There’s a glint of light in his periphery, and for a second, his arms go numb. It’s just a second, though — he sees the flash again, sunlight shining off an axe Ravi is packing onto the truck, and he moves on, doesn’t think about it again.

The next time, the wind whips by his ear a little too fast after a call at the pier, and he turns around so quickly he cracks his neck, the thought of bulletbulletbullet ricocheting in his head. It gets him a concerned look from Bobby and reminds him that he never called that therapist his doctor mentioned at his last visit, but he elects to deal with it later and moves on.

Things keep happening, but they’re all small, insignificant — someone laughing too loudly at dinner, the feel of hot asphalt under his hands as he reaches under the ambulance for a runaway bandage roll, a phantom jolt of pain in his shoulder when someone accidentally jostles him running to the truck.

Tiny things, meaningless, not even worth remembering.

He’ll get used to them, eventually. He’s been healing, isolated from the real world for months now, it’s going to be a bit of a shock to his system and his senses.

He doesn’t call the therapist.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s happy. Genuinely happy, in an open, honest way that Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen. His laughs are still loud but they’re freer, unrestrained, and his smile is bright enough to light whatever room he’s in. It makes something sing in Eddie’s chest, especially when all that wattage gets directed at him. If he’s honest, the music’s been there for a while, it just took lying in his own blood, reaching toward the only thing that felt like safety, for him to finally put a name on the song that’s been playing.

Talk about shitty timing.

Because Buck’s with Taylor now, and as much as he still doesn’t care for her, she’s helping with Buck’s new attitude too. He sees the soft smiles that linger after a text from her, and he only gives himself a minute to wish it were for him instead before reminding himself how much of a miracle those smiles are at all.

If he had watched Buck get shot, been splattered with his blood, been soaked with it as he tried to stop it from leaking out of his chest, he’s not sure he would’ve had any kind of happiness to spare.

So he adds this feeling, this particularly green beast twisting in his chest, to the list of things that he’s just going to have to get used to, and moves on. Buck is still in his and Chris’ life, still at their house more than his own, still the center of both of their worlds, and that’s enough.

It has to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, Eddie, you look like shit.”

He glares at Chimney as best he can, but he’s too tired for it to hold any heat. “Good morning to you too, Chim.”

Hen sits next to him at the table where he’s nursing his second mug of coffee of the day, downing the first one before driving Chris to school. She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, and he tries not to melt into the touch too much.

“You don’t feel warm,” she says, “but you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

He shrugs, staring down at his coffee. “Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

That may be an understatement. Not sleeping well implies sleeping at all, which Eddie’s not sure he’s been able to do in the past few days. It was easy enough when he first got home, still on pain meds that made his eyelids constantly heavy. And when Chris crawled into his bed the night after his sling came off, quiet but sniffling and burrowing into his side, it was a relief to gather him up close, a hand stroking through his hair as they both drifted off, clinging to each other. It was good for both of them, necessary to remind them both that Eddie is still here, but Chris went to his own room on Monday night instead of Eddie’s, and Eddie refused to take that choice away from him.

So he’s been alone, in a too dark room with a too big bed and a too loud brain that only shows him flashes of light and blood and fear whenever he does try to close his eyes.

Just another thing he has to get used to.

He sees Chim and Hen exchange a look and hopes to God they don’t press it. He’s beyond frayed, his state of exhaustion warring with his almost constant state of hypervigilance, and he’s not sure if he’d snap or cry or both if they try to ask him any more questions. Either way, that’s not how he wants them or anyone else to see him, especially not at work. At work, he’s Mr. Cool, always level headed, always in the game, always on top of it. Despite the jumpiness, despite the sense of dread that seems to be a permanent fixture under his skin, he’s been able to keep that attitude going, even getting lost in it sometimes, feeling like the Eddie of four months ago again. If that starts to unravel, who knows what other parts of him will fall apart with it?

Luckily, they seem to get the hint, a pat on the back and a squeeze on the shoulder as they leave the loft to restock the ambulance. But even once they’re gone and he’s alone in the quiet of the loft again, Eddie feels exposed. Fragile. Vulnerable. Teetering on the edge of an abyss he can’t afford to fall into. And he hates it, because this isn’t him. He’s the protector, the provider, the guy who’s survived getting shot twice now, and as much as he encourages Chris to be open and emotional, it still feels wrong to him, like something too close to failure. He knows, rationally, that talking about the mess in his head would probably help, but it would also feel like a loss. Like this one-sided war he’s been fighting was all for nothing.

He hears Buck before he sees him, his unmistakable bounding up the stairs echoing through the whole loft. Just that sound, just the knowledge that Buck is about to be in his vicinity, is enough to yank Eddie back from the edge. He’s not settled or calm or better, but he’s not worse. These days, that’s all he can really ask for.

Buck takes Hen’s vacant seat, stealing a sip of coffee and chattering about a traveling art exhibit he thinks they should take Chris to. Eddie feels the vice on his ribs loosen, letting Buck’s voice and enthusiasm wash over him, pushing him back to center. He doesn’t quite make it, not when Buck stops talking mid-sentence, brow furrowed and looking so intensely at Eddie he can probably see right through him

“You look tired,” Buck says.

Tired isn’t a strong enough word. But he smirks half heartedly instead, willing a little bit of his confidence back to get the subject changed sooner. “And here I thought I looked good today.”

“No, you always—“ Buck clears his throat and shakes his head, “You just look like you could use a nap. Are you okay?”

And for the first time since he woke up in the hospital with a new hole in his body and extra demons in his head, Eddie doesn’t want to say he’s fine. In the face of earnest blue eyes and worry lines, he doesn’t want to lie, and that’s exactly what an I’m fine would be, no matter how much he’s been trying to ignore it. He doesn’t want to downplay and pretend that it’s nothing, because it’s Buck. Buck who has seen him lower than he’s ever let anyone see, who slept on his couch so he was never too far away from him or Chris, who knows when Eddie needs to be pulled or pushed or pressed or none of the above.

He doesn’t want to just say he’s fine, because he’s not.

The courage to say so finally fills him, just in time for Buck’s phone to light up, Taylor’s name flashing across the screen on two messages. Buck doesn’t even glance at his phone before flipping it face down and pushing it to the side, but it’s too late — Eddie feels his walls going back up, any bravery leaving to make room for the reminder that Buck is in a good place and Eddie will do anything to keep him there. He’ll take another bullet, he’ll keep every emotion under lock and key, he’ll carve his own damn heart out of his chest if he has to. He cannot — will not — be the reason that smile that’s become so natural on Buck’s face dims by even a watt.

The crease in between Buck’s brow has only gotten deeper the longer Eddie hasn’t answered, so he musters up the most genuine smile he can. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise.” The lie cuts through his throat like broken glass.

Buck squints at him, scooting forward until his knees are digging into Eddie’s thigh. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

“Of course,” he says, another lie, more salt in the wounds he’s already given himself. Buck’s quiet for a few long moments, studying Eddie’s face, and Eddie prays that he doesn’t crack, that Buck doesn’t keep pressing. By some miracle, he doesn’t, just rests a hand on Eddie’s knee and squeezes before heading to the pantry for a snack.

The vice is back as soon as he’s out of sight, and Eddie’s list of things he has to learn to live with is starting to feel a little too long.

~~~~~~~~~~

Healing isn’t linear. It’s something he’s heard from every doctor he’s seen, every therapist he’s been assigned to, something he’s experienced first hand, physically and emotionally. So when he wakes up one morning feeling rested, energetic, and normal, he’s wary. He doesn’t want to focus on it, afraid he’ll scare this fragile feeling away, but he also wants to soak in it as much as he can. Wants to remember the easy laughs with the team and the night of board games with Chris and Buck when he’s inevitably surrounded by darkness again tomorrow.

He falls asleep and he doesn’t dream and he wakes up and feels...normal. Again. Same thing the morning after, and the morning after that. For a whole week, he doesn’t wake up with the taste of blood in his mouth or a soreness in his shoulder. He hears birds and sees the sun peaking in and feels something dangerously close to good. The wariness is still there, but every day it gets pushed a little farther back in his mind, making it a little easier to believe that while this feeling might not last, maybe it won’t be as dark when the clouds roll back in.

He’s wrong.

The restlessness comes back with a vengeance — a thrumming in his blood that won’t let him sleep, that amplifies every sound to sharp snaps that remind him too much of the gunfire he’s been trying to forget, putting him constantly on edge again. There’s a heaviness too, making it hard to breathe, hard to move, even though staying in one place for too long feels like putting a target on his back for the monsters that have made a home in his head.

He tries to keep his cool, tries to keep the facade up, but it’s hard to keep your balance on a frayed tightrope.

Bobby notices the shift right away.

It doesn’t help that even the quiet thump of the oven closing makes Eddie flinch where he’s sitting at the kitchen counter. He had hoped that watching Bobby make breakfast would calm him, remind him of the countless hours he’s spent in Abuela’s kitchen doing the very same thing, but it doesn’t. He’s still jittery, worse than he can remember being, and everything just feels like too much.

Bobby sets a to-go container down in front of him, and Eddie flinches (and curses himself) again. He looks up, confused, and is met with Bobby’s I’m about to tell you to do something and you are not allowed to say no look. Usually it’s Buck on the receiving end of that one.

He tries for a deflection. “Are we going somewhere, Cap?”

The look stays in place. “We are not. You are. There’s enough in there for you and Chris, take it home and don’t let me see you here for the next 48 hours.”

“There’s still three hours left of shift.”

Bobby pushes the container closer. “Go home, Diaz. Be with your kid. We’ll talk when you get back. And if you won’t talk to me, we’ll find someone you will talk to.”

Normally, he’d fight back. Raise his hackles, insist he doesn’t need any special treatment or intervention. But he feels like his insides have been scooped out and replaced with lead and cement and he’s tired. He barely has enough left in him to keep himself upright.

He slowly picks up the container and gets up to leave. Bobby calls his name as he gets to the top of the stairs.

“We’re here for you,” he says. “You’ve been through too much to be handling this on your own. Just let us know how we can help.”

I would if I could, but I don’t even know where to start.

He just nods, hopes his face looks some degree of reassuring, and heads to the locker room.

~~~~~~~~~~

The way Chris’ face lights up when he sees Eddie waiting for him in the front office is enough to thaw the ice in his chest for a minute. He can hear the exact octave his mother’s voice would reach if she heard about him pulling Chris out of school for “no good reason”, but he also could not give less of a shit.

He feels a little bit more like a person with Chris in the backseat. That’s a good enough reason for him.

They set up camp in the park near their house, Bobby’s food and extra snacks Eddie picked up spread out between them, and Chris fills Eddie in on all the things he missed while he was working. He tries to focus on everything — Chris’ excitement about his upcoming science fair, the Sour Patch Watermelon sugar stuck to the tip of his nose, the way his hands move with his words. Eddie feels better, more settled, just getting to bask in the sun and in Chris like this, but he still feels heavy, like every move he makes has him fighting against gravity, threatening to pull him into the dirt.

There’s a crack from the playground in front of them, and Eddie’s blood turns to ice. He’s halfway to standing before he sees it��s just some kids snapping sticks in half to build some kind of log cabin. He lets out a slow breath as he sits back down and wills his heartbeat back to normal.

Chris is staring at him, eyes intense and brow furrowed, very similar to someone else they know.

Shit.

As soon as he’s settled, Chris moves to sit in the criss-cross of his legs. He’s a little too on the lanky side for this anymore, but Eddie’s absolutely not going to complain. Chris twists until he’s looking Eddie in the eye. Eddie does his best not to look away.

Chris rests a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay if you’re feeling bad,” he says. “You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

The crack comes from Eddie’s own heart this time. His kid has been through so much in 10 short years, and it’s only made him wiser than he should be, compassionate and understanding and open, ready to be there for anyone without a second thought. He’s good in every sense of the word, and Eddie’s in awe of the fact that he, somehow, has something to do with that. And the last thing he wants to do is lie to his son, but he just...can’t. Talk about it. Not now. Not yet. Not in a way that will keep Chris this good.

He has no way of articulating all that, so he just wraps his arms around Chris’ middle and squeezes him close.

“I know, buddy. Thank you. I’ll be okay, and we’ll talk soon.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not everything.

It seems to be enough for Chris, though. He nods and pats Eddie’s face before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a library book. “Well, I’m gonna read to you until you feel better, just like you do for me.”

It’s the first real smile Eddie’s cracked in months. He kisses the top of Chris’ head, settling his chin there as Chris leans back into his chest.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

They sit there for a while longer, Chris reads to him about Percy and Annabeth and Grover, and Eddie, inexplicably, feels a little bit lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s Jeep is parked outside when they get home, and Chris practically breaks down the door to greet him. It looks like he’s gone all out, too — Chinese food on the table, the promise of cookies and cream ice cream in the fridge, and a list of movies that Chris ecstatically agrees with as Buck lists them off. Chris hurries off to change and clean up for dinner, and Eddie moves to start opening plastic lids and cardboard containers.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he says. He leaves out just having you with us is enough.

Buck waves him off. “Anything for you two.”

He could leave it at that, keep up the comfortable silence as they move around the kitchen in tandem, but there’s a nagging memory that he has to ask about or he’ll never stop thinking about it.

“Didn’t you have a date with Taylor tonight?”

Buck tenses ever so slightly, a container of dumplings shifting in his hand. “Cancelled,” he says with a shrug.

Eddie knows there’s more, but Chris comes back before he can ask, and it doesn’t feel like a conversation they can have in front of a 10 year old. So they eat, and fall into the familiar banter between the three of them, and for half an hour, Eddie can be present. He can forget the last six months and the weight still hanging off of him and live in this moment, with the two most important people in his life, and pretend that this is all there is. Just these two and their joy and warmth that wraps around him tight enough to make him feel alive again, if only for a little while.

Two bowls of ice cream and one and a half movies later, Chris is dead to the world. Buck carries him to bed and Eddie tries to ignore the new ache that’s sprung up of the course of the evening, the one that wants and pulls towards Buck like a magnet. The one that almost purrs when Buck settles back on the couch so close they’re touching from ankle to (good) shoulder, contentedness washing over the living room as they find a rerun of The Shawshank Redemption playing on cable. It’s not perfect, there’s still a roiling in his blood that won’t seem to leave him alone, but he feels better than he has in God knows when.

Buck shifts closer to Eddie, eyes glowing in the light of the TV, and Eddie never wants him to leave. “Thanks for coming tonight. I— Chris and I both really needed this, I think.”

“I told you, anything for you two. Always.”

He ignores the way his stomach flips and tries to focus on the movie. He gets about five minutes of peace before another thought comes back, still nagging him, mixing with his anxiety enough to actually force him to say something.

He aims for cool and casual. “So, you and Taylor...everything okay?”

Buck gives him a very long, almost challenging look before turning off the TV. Seems he missed that casual mark. “I should be asking you the same thing.” “Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m really worried about you, Eds.”

“This isn’t my first time getting shot, I know how to handle it.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as bitter as it does, but he can’t bring himself to care, either. He doesn’t have the energy to keep a filter up anymore.

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“I’m fine, Buck,” he says sharply, and he’s surprised his teeth haven’t fallen out of his head yet with how hard he’s lying through them. He hates that he’s lying to Buck at all, but those smiles he’s gotten used to have been fewer and farther between recently, and he knows it’s his fault. He might feel like his own seams are coming apart, but he’ll be damned if he rips Buck open too, even if it means pushing him away from his mess. “You’ve got a life and a girlfriend to worry about, I’ll figure everything out on my own.”

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend. We broke up.”

Eddie pauses, curses the faint hope that sparks in his chest. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been a little distracted by someone else for the past few months. It didn’t feel fair to her to keep it going.”

He gives him another long look, and Eddie might be a little dense when it comes to things like this, but that look breaks through loud and clear. This is it. This is real. This is everything he’s wanted for the past six months — and probably longer than that — but now that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel right. Buck was happy, free, finally settled into his own skin, and it’s all gone now because of Eddie and his stupid, broken everything. He knows he won’t be able to give Buck everything he needs, at least right now, but Buck needs to know that too. “Buck—”

“Nope,” he says with a firm shake of his head. “I know you’re gonna try and blame yourself for this somehow, but…don’t. It was bound to happen anyway. Because you’re right, I do have a life, but it’s you two. You and Chris. That’s all I need it to be. That’s all I want it to be. And I hate that it took so long for me to figure out, that it took you getting shot, but we’re here now.” His eyes shutter a bit as he looks down at his hands. “At least, I hope we are.”

And there it is. So simple, so easy, for Buck to admit this huge thing that Eddie thought he was dancing around on his own. The ease reminds Eddie, through his fog of sadness and anger and every other bleak feeling that’s been controlling him, that that’s what makes them work so well together. Honesty. Being able to show all their ugly, mismatched inside parts to each other and still find the beauty, the ways to help, the ways to hold each other together when they need it the most.

And Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever needed to be held together more than he does right now.

“Ask me,” he whispers, the sound seeming to echo around the room.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me if I’m okay.”

Buck shuffles on the couch until they’re facing each other, takes both of Eddie’s hands in his.

“Eddie,” he says softly, “are you okay?”

The world blurs as the tears he’s been fighting finally break free, but he feels strong. Brave. Like he can do anything now that Buck’s holding his hand.

“No,” he says, a crack in his voice but the conviction behind it still firm. “No, I’m not okay.”

The floodgates open, and he lets everything wash over him, all the things he’s been holding back, forcing away in the hopes that they’d just disappear one day. He’s floating and sinking and lost in the waves of it all, but strong arms wrap around him and pull him close, and there’s relief. Not a lot, not enough, but it’s there, for the first time since he woke up in the hospital. He feels safe here, with Buck wiping away his tears and pressing kisses along his hairline. He honestly forgot what safety felt like, was sure he’d never feel anything like it again. But he knew it that day he was bleeding out on the street, and he knows it now — it feels like Buck’s sweatshirt and smells like his aftershave and sounds like whispers of it’s okay and I’ve got you.

It all subsides, eventually, but Buck still holds him close, presses their foreheads together so there’s nothing else Eddie can focus on. His eyes are piercing, bright like Eddie only usually sees when Buck has a plan that refuses to be derailed.

“Let me help, Eddie,” he says, punctuated with a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I know you think you can do this yourself, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to. Let me help you carry it.”

His voice left with the rush of everything, so all Eddie can do is nod before sinking back into Buck, into relief. Even that simple motion, the silent acknowledgement that he’s not alone anymore, is enough to let small seeds of hope sink into him and take root. They’re still weak, still unfamiliar, but they’re here, waiting to grow.

And Eddie knows, with a certainty that he forgot he was capable of, that Buck will be here to help tend to them, no matter how long it takes for them to blossom.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie wakes up the next morning, he still feels weighed down. There’s still an edge, an unease low in his gut, anxiety still crawling through his veins.

He’s not okay. But he looks over and sees Buck — breathing even, arm thrown over Eddie’s stomach, keeping him close — and the ever-present darkness fades from an angry black to melancholy grey. Not perfect, not even close, but better.

He’s not okay. He hasn’t been for a while. But now, finally, he feels like he will be.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #tim i know you read fanfic you can HAVE this one so we can get a recovery arc #i don't even need credit just DO IT #ficcery

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multiplefandomsblog · 3 years

Text

request(s); IZURU SMUT WITH AFAB READER - IT DOESNT MATTER WHAT THE CONTENT INCLUDED IN IT IS,I JUST, NO ONE REALLY WRITES FOR THE SCARY M A N 😢😢😢

paring(s); Izuru x AFAB!reader

warning(s); cussing, woAHH reader is a prostitute hired by enoshima, reader is AFAB, oral sex (m receiving), humiliation kink whoop, degradation kink double whoop, ah yes dirty talk, degrading names, spit-play, prositution, multiple orgasms, wall sex, slow and steady wins the race, dumbification, begging, dacryphillia, sadism, kind of like fuck or die???? but not really??????? AND DEAR LORD I HAD NO IDEA WHAT I WAS DOING WITH THIS GOD oii

note; i actually had a dream similar to this— also i lowkey got attached to these characters and now im seriously considering making a series of this???? DHSBJDDBF IDK IT REMINDS ME OF, LIKE AAAA IDK

wc; 4.1k+

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Everything was terribly boring.

It was funny; that had been the only thought Izuru seemed to have in his brain, even as you were on your knees sucking him off like he was your last meal. Glaring down at you, he stifled a disappointed sigh. In all honesty, you weren’t bad; but he knows he could do much better, perhaps even find much better. It was almost a guarantee that he’d get someone else to do the job for him much better.

Sitting on the throne of a comfortable chair, he had barely broken a sweat, nor had he even moaned a single time. Of course, that would frustrate you; you were squeezing whatever couldn’t fit in your mouth, ‘faking’ moans—or at least that’s what you told yourself you were doing—to send vibrations down his spine, and swallowing all the filthy pre-cum of his cock had released. And the man didn’t even have the gall to at least pretend to like it.

It irritated you.

Why had he even accepted Enoshima’s offer for you if he hadn’t even been enjoying it? You hadn’t even touched yourself yet, and you were the one completely soaking in your panties—whilst you swore you heard him sigh, and not one of pleasure. Every part of it was humiliating for you.

“This is boring, get off.” You perked your head up, popping your lips off the unsatisfied pink tip, and to your humiliation, you looked up at him with sad, puppy dog eyes; ones that you hadn’t even purposely put on. You felt your heart drop all the way down to your stomach, “Boring…?” Well, that did it.

Desperation turned into anger, and before you knew it, you had been crawling on this man’s lap, thighs straddling him, and hands digging into his shoulder as you looked down at him with feigned dominance. You gritted your teeth, he hadn’t a single reaction, just a look of genuine curiosity, and the same look of bored annoyance. He didn’t seem to like being suddenly touched, not like you even cared. Boring, huh? You’d prove to this self-entitled fuck, you weren’t as boring as he thought you to be.

“... What do you think you’re doing?” With his question of genuine intent to know, his dull tone of voice seemed to have affected your interpretation of what he truly meant to say. Despite the condescending and almost offended tone, he truly wanted to know. Someone like you, crawling into his lap as if you hadn’t been face-to-face with possibly the world’s most dangerous human being; brought a small spark of interest in his chest.

Maybe you had some potential, he would think. “Are you trying to prove yourself to me?” With his eyes gleaming with curiosity and anticipation, you leaned back as you felt him lean in. With his nose inches away from yours, you shrunk just a slight but kept your act as strong as you could hold it for.

You gulped, gaze and grip faltering underneath his piercing gaze. Suddenly you felt small again. Your previous surge of dominance seemed to crumble and collapse as he brought his hands up to grope at your hips, reminding you who was really in charge here. He narrowed his eyes as he felt your hesitance and yielding, his large hands that had cupped your ass had practically been supporting all your weight as you backed down in the body and in mind. Damn it. He wondered where your confidence went, it was only just getting fun— but perhaps, all good things come to an end.

Well. He wasn’t going to let you give up that easily.

Suddenly, he let go, causing your ass that had once been held up by his hands, to fall back and knock onto his knees harshly; and you swore you could see a ghost of an expectant smirk on his face. Surprising you further, Izuru uttered 4 words that only seemed to confuse you, yet excite you all the same.

“Go on then. Try.” Your breath hitched, averted eyes now confused and focused them back onto the long-haired male. “W- what?” Izuru’s eyes narrowed at you, and the impatient look he had sent to you almost felt like a reward as you felt yourself growing more sodden. “Try and prove that you aren’t just another hole. That’s why you’re still here, no?” He spoke, and you swore you could hear his voice lower in tone.

He rested his hands on the armrests of his chair, leaning back ever so slightly as he got comfortable; as if he was about to watch a performance made just for him—which hadn’t been far from the truth.

But to your surprise and not his, you obeyed.

If this was your chance to prove yourself to him— the ultimate hope that everyone seemed to be intimidated by—you’d take it. Of course, you would.

Despite the growing anxiety in your heart that you’d mess up, you pushed it down and put one brave façade; he would sense your fear if you displayed it too much.

Your efforts turned futile anyway; you should’ve known he’d sense your hesitance.

Acknowledging your hesitance you thought hadn’t been too obvious about, Izuru brought it up. “What’s stopping you? Your fear?” Izuru hummed, leaning down to peck at your chest, “Well, that’s understandable; you should be scared.” Followed by the light sound of his lips against your heated shoulder.

“... Though I assume that’s not what you’re afraid of at this moment.” Assume? More like knew. You were so predictable to him, a flick of your finger could tell him exactly what you’re thinking. With a tender gaze you were surely seeing wrong, he stared up at you expectantly as he waited for your answer.

“Well?” You gritted your teeth at his sudden gentleness, taking more offence to it than you should have. You didn’t like being treated with kid gloves, not by him at least; for all you know, he kills children. “I’m not scared of anything—” He was huge, of course, you were terrified. ”How do you know I’m not just trying to slow it down, so you’re ready for it?” You challenged, shifting yourself above his tip that still glistened with your saliva from the earlier blow. Izuru looked at you, nearly taken aback.

It made you feel incompetent. As if he thought you couldn’t do it, as if he thought you couldn’t give him the best night of your life. Of course, you’d be offended. No one likes being underestimated, especially not by him. It just brings you a whole new different feeling of humiliation.

And he knew that. He just wanted you to hurry up, you know, provoke you a little. Foreplay was… Boring; he’d think with a small smile.

“Surely, you’re not that idio—” He cut himself off with a sharp inhale, lips parting and eyebrow twitching from the way your slick cunt slid over the tip of his dick, sinking in with ease. “I- I’m not what?” You breathed out, a shaky, smug grin contorting on your face as you tried your best to conceal the fact his dick had felt like it had literally been splitting you in two. “Hnnahh— Jesus-” You dropped your head for a second, nails digging deeper into the material of his suit; surprisingly, he didn’t care all that much about the material damage—at the moment, he cared more about the fact you hadn’t even sunk half his dick in yet, and you already looked like you were near-tears.

Maybe care would be an overstatement.

You bit down on your once-smug smile, jaw going slack as you felt the pleasant curve of his dick, rub against your vaginal walls ever so slightly—following the movements of your own heavy panting. “You shouldn’t be so cocky, S/o.” He didn’t seem to hear the irony hiding in between his almost-mocking words.

You scoffed at his taunting statement, staring him straight in the eye as you walked further into his trap, and sunk down lower—stifling a wince as you felt him sink in you alarmingly deep. How big was he!? Well, you already knew the answer to that question. Your jaw still hurt from earlier. But that stretch had been positively incomparable to the stretch your pussy had currently been experiencing.

Izuru pursed his lips, silently groaning at the way your walls clamped onto him as if you were already trying to milk him of his cum. You were so tight, he noted in his mind; well he wasn’t going to complain. As a sex worker, he would’ve expected you to be looser, easier to slip in; it seemed one of his predictions had been incorrect.

In a dry, uncaring tone, he addressed the bead of sweat forming on your forehead from the stretch. “Can you really take it? You look like you’re in pain.” the part that irked you the most had been the small undertone of genuine concern for your being. Yeah, Izuru; the ultimate I-don’t-care-if-you’re-dead, cared if you could take his dick.

Maybe your heart would’ve been swelling with joy, had it not taken a large hit on your pride. You were a sex worker, not the protagonist of a fucking romance comedy.

You could feel yourself growing angrier and angrier by the second; a large part of you just wanted to get him off and leave—but there was a larger part of you that… strangely wanted to please this man, prove him wrong.

Don’t get me wrong, the urge was purely sexual.

Rolling your eyes at his ‘concern’, “Can you just- Nh!” you held your breath before clutching onto his suit a little more desperately than you wanted to as you sunk the rest of him inside you. Embarrassment made its debut in your reddening cheeks as you unwillingly let a few whimpers slip out. “—B- be fucking quiet? For on- Mn! O- once?” He paused before retorting back in that same blunt tone, seemingly unamused by your curses as he had been busy watching your bodily reactions closely, as well as feeling them first hand. “... You’re shivering.” He addressed the tremor of your shoulders, as well as the contractions of your walls against his cock.

“It- It’s cold.” You lied through your teeth, to which he found annoying; surely, you knew that he would read through that lie, so what was the point of even trying?

Sighing in annoyance, he bucked his hips, exhaling sharply through his nose as you yelped and collapsed onto him, body going limp as you felt him hit your sweet spot. With a slightly panicked moan, you dug your shined face deeper into the crook of his shoulder, causing him to shiver as he felt the breath of your moan hit his neck. “Hnn-! A- a- already?” Izuru scoffed quietly, “I thought you wanted me to be quiet. Which one is it?” Izuru’s condescending voice kissed your ear, and you felt your own shivers being sent down your spine from his voice alone.

Putting on an annoyed façade that would soon shatter, you rolled your eyes—something you would probably be doing often tonight. “You’re really annoying, you know th-? Oh-! Oh fuck-!” You moaned, eyes shooting open, revealing your dilated pupils to the wall behind him. With your hands fanned out on his suited back, you arched your back against him, grinding slowly as you hugged him off the back of his chair.

Mewling quietly, you found yourself trying to stifle your own moans, so you could hear better his own; only to pout as you heard nothing. Your sole purpose and presence with him at this moment had been to please him. You… needed to please him.

And only Atua knows what Junko’ll do to you if she finds out you didn’t satisfy him.

Sighing in slight frustration, you felt him tense underneath your touch as you locked your lips onto his neck, lips searching and exploring every inch of the sensitive skin of his neck. Izuru’s eyes widened a fraction, only to lid as he felt himself growing bored again. “What are you doing?” You muffled against his neck, “I’m trying to find your erogenous zone—“ a large grin grew on your face as you felt him go rigid and stiff against you—as if he wasn’t already rigid and stiff—as you grazed your teeth on a certain spot on his Adams’s apple, a sign that you hit the jackpot.

“There, huh? I never would’ve guessed…” You spoke through gentle moans caused by Izuru’s natural reaction to fuck up into you harder. He shivered, sure, he was good at everything; but even he didn’t know he had an erogenous zone—or rather, where it was.

And now you had this information.

You felt your confidence sprout back up again as you felt him melt, slowly but surely into your embrace, and slowly but surely, you tried gaining back control of what had been happening.

That had been your plan; but as soon as your hands reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair, he flinched, nails digging into your hips harshly. “Hands off.” He growled, crimson gaze darkening in irritation from your feather-like tugs.

Yeah, your plan.

His scalp was sensitive, and he had made the mistake of reacting so strongly to your touch to it, right in front of you no less. It was a weakness; one you’d surely take advantage of as you fucked this man. Or rather, as he fucked you. Izuru grimaced as he could practically hear the mischievous grin in your voice, “Yeah?” with a warning tone, Izuru tried stopping you, “S/o.” you probably shouldn’t have felt as excited as you did from his warning voice; especially from a guy like him, but there was a part of you that really wanted to know what would happen—what he was warning you about.

So you made the best mistake of your life; and tugged the already impatient man’s hair.

Izuru hadn’t given you the time to even inhale a single breath, as he had you pinned to the wall in half a second. Shit, he’s fast. Well, what did you expect? Izuru was definitely more than ordinary—and as you still felt the stretch burning between your legs, you knew that more than anyone. “I- Izuru?” Izuru sighed as you shrunk underneath his hold, forcing him to hold you up by his hips that had been pressed up against you. Your cattiness seemed to disappear the moment he manhandled you to the wall; it was predictable. All bark, no bite. He wondered why he wasted his time with you.

With your eyes wide and helpless, Izuru remained unamused. “Let’s get this over with.”

Underneath the shell of your body, you could feel your blood boil as the man thrusting into you, had given you that familiar condescending stare of pity. He didn’t seem very pitiful as he watched you writhe and squirm underneath him from his unrelenting pace, though you could still read the emotion clear as day; your eyes glared right back at him—though you could barely see where you had been glaring, as your vision had been blurred from your own tears.

He was planning to push you to your limits, because, maybe when you’re sobbing and begging for him to stop; maybe then, you’d be less boring.

‘He was the ultimate at everything; of course, he would be good at this too-’ “Fuhh...- fuck!” Your first orgasm of the night washed over your body, shaking uncontrollably as you had been less than prepared for it. You’d often have to fake your orgasms or get yourself off once the person using you was done. So you, whether it was fortunately or unfortunately, weren’t used to cumming so quickly. Previous thoughts of distaste had been long forgotten, as you had now been completely weak; moments away from breaking down and throwing away your dignity to prolong sex with Izuru.

Sobs spilled out of your mouth as Izuru helped you ride out your high. The man watched you from above, hands hooking underneath your thighs and slamming you against the wall harder than your body had gone slack in your arms. For him, it felt more like he was pleasuring you—but for some reason, he didn’t mind all too much.

Through tear-stained eyelids, you glared at him, your warm body still trembling from the near-mind-blowing orgasm he granted you. “I- I can take it.” At least, you thought you could. In all honesty, you didn’t care. You wanted it, and furthermore, he hasn’t even cum yet. Your job wasn’t finished. If you had to be fucked until your mind broke for him to cum, you’d do it. You didn’t have a choice—but even if you did, you wouldn’t deny him; you’d have to be insane to.

“How... persistent…” Izuru murmured quietly to himself, bringing a hand up to tap your chin, causing you to perk your head up and flush at the gentle touch; the way he looked at you made you feel as if you were a mere science project being examined. It may have not been ideal, but being gazed at like nothing but a lowly bug is better than being ignored.

It was so easy to fuck you into submission, he thought. Grunting, he pulled all the way out, lip twitching at the lewd squelch of your pussy. He almost lost himself in the way your walls fluttered around the tip of his cock once again, before tightening as if you were trying to welcome him back in.

Izuru, with a sharp inhale, roughly slammed back in, hitting all the right places despite the thrust being as quick as a flash of a camera. You gasped for air, you felt as if you had just been punched with his hips—and before you could recover from it, you felt him pull out yet again, only to slam back in, a small exhale huffing out the man’s lips as he kept on doing that same repetition.

“F- faster— Pl- please!” You choked out as tears welled up in your eyes, his thrusts had been so powerful and forceful, yet so calculated; as if he was aiming for your G-spot every time he thrust in—which he was. He growled under his breath, voice still monotone but more strained than before—it was almost impossible for him.

“You’re too tight to go fast.” He deadpanned, “if I go any faster, I might break you.” He didn’t really care whether he broke you, but who in their right mind would want to be broken?

It was almost comedic how quickly you perked up at the mention of being broken. “I- I wanna! Really bad, r- real bad! Please!” You blabbered and begged like an idiot, your dignity long gone. He hissed at the way your pussy gushed with your juices and excitement, struggling yet again to piston himself into you. “Do you only think with your cunt?” Izuru narrowed his eyes down at you, disbelief and disgust gleamed in his red eyes; and it only made you squeeze around him unwillingly.

You shrunk, shaking your head as a babyish pout contorted onto your lips. “N- no, I-” The slow slapping noises of his hips on yours grew in volume, and your eyes widened as you could feel and hear him getting more frantic, hitting you deeper—places you were sure weren’t even supposed to be touched were abused by the crown of his growing cock.

Through a tone that tried its best to be calm and composed, Izuru shakily breathed out. “Open your mouth.”

“W- Huh?” With slurred speech and crossed eyes, you tried your best to find his red eyes through the tears that blurred your vision. You were so fucked out, you weren’t even sure if he had actually said anything or if it had been your imagination.

“You heard me, don’t play dumb.” You hadn’t been playing dumb; you were dumbed. But Izuru held no patience for your games, and you could definitely feel that in his increasingly painful grip on your ass—he was sure to leave a bruise on your skin. With a confused look in your eye, you hesitantly dropped your jaw for him, whimpering and jolting as you felt something wet spew into your mouth. Before you could whine or even get the chance to complain, Izuru had forcefully knocked you against the wall again, lightly hitting your head as he steadied you against the surface with one hand as he used the other to close your jaw.

You hadn’t even registered the fact you had spit into your mouth as your mind had been too foggy from the intense feeling building up in your stomach once again. “Swallow.” Without so much as a questioning noise as a reaction to what he had done, you obeyed. Swallowing thickly with bleary eyes, you tried your best to keep eye contact with the man who seemed way too calm for the aggressive pace he had been maintaining like a pro.

Not thinking much of it, you dropped your jaw and flattened your tongue down against your chin; it was almost instinctual as you obediently showed him you had swallowed all of it. It seemed to please him, as he traced his thumb absentmindedly over your jawline; it almost felt like a reward, to be touched like that. His gentle hands differed greatly from his pace that fastened within each second that passed the both of you by.

Your moans grew in volume, and you could feel yourself getting overwhelmed by how fucking good it felt to be fucked by him; moans and groans turned into full-blown hysterical sobbing as you felt your second climax approach. He grunted in frustration as he felt your walls clamp around him once again, convulsing as you gasped for air, his breaths huffing out in small intervals as he tried to get himself to his own high.

Nothing was said as you threw yourself into him, hugging himself close to you as if he was your lifeline despite your twitching body—you weren’t sure how long you could hold on before you passed out, but you tried your best to stay conscious. He hadn’t cum yet.

It may have frustrated him, but it also frustrated you. Running your hands down his neck to his well-defined jaw, you cradled his skull before attaching your lips onto his neck desperately, practically slobbering over him like a dog as you kissed and sucked at his neck—to which he groaned quietly at. It was a terrible job, you were necking him so sloppily, and he hated himself for grading your performance when really, he should’ve been indulging in it.

The sounds of his hips slapping against yours, combined with your small moans that you tried to muffle against his neck, had overwhelmed his senses and he found himself going blank in the mind for less than half a second.

It was dangerous, to leave yourself vulnerable like that.

So without another word, sound, or thrust, he hoisted you up and dropped you against the chair; in which you unravelled like a velvet carpet over the soft, plush furniture. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you didn’t want to part from him, you didn’t want it to stop. There, he continued his assault to your already battered cunt, grunts and sharp sighs spilling out his mouth as he concentrated on getting himself to climax.

“F- fuck, Izuru— Izuru, you’re splitting me- in t- two!” You sobbed out, arms flying up to wipe your tears away that prevented you from seeing the esthetical man above you. With his hair looking like it was flowing behind him, and the thin layer of sweat shining on his skin, you felt your heart beat a little faster— what?

You hadn’t even been able to register the dread of the realization of your feelings, as, without warning, Izuru creamed inside you. His hips stuttered to a stop, and he leaned himself completely over your body that had folded over the back rest of the chair, nose meeting the crook of your mid-chest. “Hhah...” He panted, clammy hands that had been gripping onto your skin tightly, loosened as he took a second before getting up and off you.

You scrambled up from your position on the chair, legs and pussy numb as you struggled sitting up.“Wait Izuru—!” You called out for him, catching his attention as he cleaned himself up with a convenient towel Junko had left on the table.

Zipping up the fly of his pants, he stared at you, waiting for you to continue what you had been planning to say as he flattened the creases of his suit.

“W- were you...” You gulped, flushing as you recalled what you had done earlier. “Were you satisfied?” Your voice had been meek, afraid of his answer for more than one reason. Junko really would show you despair if she found out you didn’t satisfy him. “... I’ll let her know I was.” You sighed in relief, shoulders going slack as you fell back on the chair. You’d live another day.

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