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ceruleanchillin · 3 years

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When You're At The Function F***in It UP And Your Man Walks In (Mayans)

Warnings: Implied sexual content, language, fighting

Characters: Angel, Coco, & EZ

You’re on thin ice as it is sis. The little forest-green dress with the the deep plunge front and slit sides, the one that ended up purchased after your friends hyped you into it. That’s supposed to be in the trash according to one Angel Reyes. That, or reserved for private nights in.

Currently, it was wrapped around your form, helping you grab envious/admiring glances from around the room.

Your hips twisted to the layered bass, using the random behind you for stability. Your friend next to you cheered you on, her inner hype man on full display. There’s a breakdown in the song, and you lose yourself in the rhythm. Suddenly, you hear a familiar voice telling you “Superstar mama, say hi for the gram!”.

Your eyes zone in on Gilly, eyes wide. Everyone knew the Mayans rolled deep when they went anywhere. Where there was one, there was the rest. Especially when it came to the three musketeers and their wrangler, EZ.

Like you were busted sneaking back into your room as a teen, you froze. You narrowed your eyes at your friend who shrugged and mouthed sorry before disappearing.

“Gilly fuck off!” You hissed, moving away from the random. Your eyes scanning the crowded den.

Gilly laughed, tucking his phone into his kutte. “Ayy, don’t get mad at me,” he fluttered his eyelashes and fake coughed into his hand. “I don’t feel so good baby, I’m just gonna stay in tonight.”

You narrowed your eyes at his high-pitched mimicry of your last conversation with Angel.

He wasn’t even supposed to be there. Your friend swore she nixed all Mayan related invites, just for that night, on your behalf. All you wanted was to be able to turn up like you did pre-relationship. Normally you could at clubhouse parties since Angel trusted everyone there with his life. Any party outside of that was a gamble, and Angel could referee like he got a check for it.

Your eyes finally met said man’s across the party and a chill and went down your spine. Angel was propped against the wall across the way, eyes on you.

The rest of party fell away as you made your way over to him, schooling your features into your ‘what did I do daddy?’ pout.

“Nah, don’t come over with that lip poking now.” He shook his head, speaking when you were in range of him.

“And what are you doing wearing this fucking pillowcase out here? What did we talk about?” He pinched the thin strings of your dress.

“Nooo, don’t be mad. I was walking through my closet and it fell on me. Besides, you liked it when I modeled it for you.”

Angel scoffed, refusing to even entertain your comments. Coco chuckled from his spot next to his friend as he lit a cigarette.

“I thought you had club shit, I didn’t even know you’d be here.” You cringed as soon as the words left your lips, the shots you’d taken earlier still putting in work.

“I didn’t know you’d be here either. I thought you were sick. There’s some soup in the car that thought it was getting dropped off. Apparently wrong thoughts is the theme of the night.”

Petty by Angel Reyes.

“Soup? Baby, that’s so sweet.” You tried to pet his cheeks, but he was keeping you at bay.

“You aren’t even sick! Imma give that shit to Gilly.”

“Nooo.” You whined again, still trying to get him to let you touch him in some way.

“Get that bitch you were dancing with to buy you soup.” It was his turn to pout, but there was fire in his eyes as he tracked the guy you’d been dancing with. “It’s all he’s gonna be able to fucking eat in a minute anyways.”

“Sorry I blew up your spot ma, I just wanted to see my plug and get out.” Coco opened the palm of his hand not holding the cigarette and revealed a small bag of weed.

Angel snapped his head towards him, expression incredulous. “Don’t apologize to her, she lied to her man! She gave some puto hope! Get on code!”

“I love you hermano, but this is your guard dog-ass fault.” He pointedly ignored his friend’s heated glare as a girl in the doorway caught his interest, slipping away when she positively returned his gaze.

Angel’s attention was claimed by you once again when you pulled his head down towards you. You smothered his cheeks in kisses, to which he was physically unresponsive.

“I don’t know if I want you kissing on me querida.”

You rolled your eyes. Petty or not, everyone knew Angel’s life force depleted the longer he went without touching you. Even in your tipsy state you could see his fingers literally twitched with the need to take their rightful place on your hips.

“I just wanted to dance like I used to, and you don’t dance. Then you beat down guys who want to. You left me no choice, so let me have kisses.” You locked your arms around his waist, successfully avoiding his half-hearted attempts to push you away.

He scrunched up his face. “How the fuck am I catching strays in this situation? I’m the victim!”

“I’ll make it up to you later if you stop being a hatin’ wallflower and let me grind on you.” Your hips found the rhythm of the slow wind song thumping through the room.

His hands encircled your throat, drawing you closer to his person. Your pupils blew at his darkened expression, your lower half squirming with interest. He pressed his lips to yours, and the party faded to nothing again. His fingers flexed around your throat before closing just enough for him to draw the subtlest gasp from you. He felt it more than heard it over the noise, but it was enough.

He pulled away, licking his lips as you tried to remember where you were and if sin always tasted so good.

“You’ll make it up to me right now in the traitor’s car.” he held up keys you recognized to be Coco’s.

You started to protest on principle, but your body was going through withdrawals from a lite touch (for Angel). He could see the wheels turning, but you were letting him lead you out of the room, palm openly covering your ass.

“Who are you texting?” You asked, more annoyed with how his hands were no longer possessively roaming your body than a real answer.

He quickly pocketed his phone and returned his hands to you. “No one baby.” definitely not telling his boys via group chat to handle the random for him. “Stop worrying about anything other than how you’re gonna get around at work tomorrow.”

--------

It was bad enough you couldn’t make it to New Orleans due to work, and Old Lady “responsibilities”, but this petty fight you were in with Coco was the kicker. You couldn’t even remember how it started, but it escalated back and forth until you weren’t speaking and were back staying at your apartment.

Poor Letty had been reduced to messenger girl, especially now that she had a car. A tug of war with your point being “she was my girl first, that’s how we met” and his point being “she’s my kid, blood first ma” had broken out. You didn’t know what was going to wear through its welcome first, your lack of Coco, or Letty’s patience, but they were competing. It wasn’t like Coco was doing any better if your daily updates from Letty were any indication. He was impatient, tense, chain smoking, and was getting closer and closer to going through with the apology call he was openly fighting.

It wouldn’t be long before you were back to getting your back arched out of shape if that was anything to go by. Not a moment too soon if your own miserable habits were anything to go by. You wanted to use the party to distract yourself, hoping Coco would break first the following day. If not, it was sure to be you.

You spent the whole day throwing your frustrations into decorating your best friend’s backyard. It looked like the French Quarter threw up its best years, but it was the perfect backdrop to lose yourself to some bounce music.

Normally, you could goad Coco into being your twerking post, and that resistance (plus his turned on bi-lingual hypeman compliments in your ear) was everything missing at the moment.

You pouted and weaved your way out of the crowd to your friend who was busy playing good hostess.

“Ah ah, no whining. If you wanna really make it Mardi Gras, shake your ass on a dude.”

You narrowed your eyes, annoyed she shut down and solved your problem before you could whine about it. “Coco hates that shit! Plus he’s spoiled me, it won’t even be the same.”

“Coco isn’t here, and it doesn’t have to be the same, it just has to do.” She turned away from where she’d filled two shot glasses for the two of you. “Besides, we both know your ass is gonna be all in his neck crying about how you miss him tomorrow. Do your thing before you go out sad.”

She clinked shot glasses with you, pleased at her accurate assessment and your sourpuss face.

“Fuck you.” You laughed, voice rough from the burn of the shot.

“Save that for Coco.” She smacked your ass, draped one of the many beaded necklaces hanging off her shoulder around your neck, and sent you on your way back to the crowd of writhing bodies.

It was nothing to find dudes to grind on, and you fell into the synergy. You couldn’t count how many fast paced songs you’d thrown it back to, or how many guys you’d danced with. The stack of beads you’d acquired gave some idea though.

Meanwhile, Coco’s skin was alive with the kind of anger he felt. He’d been seriously contemplating coming to your place and forcing out admissions of how his life wasn’t right without you in it. He couldn’t remember who or what started it, but it didn’t even matter when your scent was starting to fade from his pillow, and his touch starvation was acting up.

All of that went careening out the window when he stumbled upon a pouty Letty, huffing and sucking her teeth at her phone. Turns out you, and “everyone in the goddamn world but me” according to Letty, were at your friend’s blowout Mardi Gras party. Coco knew it was your favorite holiday, but it was news to him that you had any plans since you couldn’t officially go this year. News he didn’t welcome at all, since all of the videos he saw you in you were throwing (his) your ass on multiple dudes. Did you think he wouldn’t fight everyone???

He was already on his bike before he’d even registered leaving the house. He sent a quick summoning call in his boy’s group chat, your friend’s address the destination.

The party was louder and wilder than the videos let on. He’d already spotted his boys by their kuttes, mingling in their respective ways, but didn’t seek them out. They’d find him if he needed them to. Coco on the other hand, needed to find you.

His eagle eyes picked apart the crowd until he spotted you twisting yourself to the rhythm. Coco didn’t know whether to shoot the asshole behind you, or take you away to deal with the feelings you were bringing out of him.

You knew he loved when you brought the South to the West Coast with your hips and ass.

He charged into your space, his hands immediately going for the guy’s arm and snatching him towards him.

“Make a choice cabrón. Get the fuck out, or be an expensive bill and sad memory for your moms by morning.” He pressed his kutte to his person, emphasizing that he was strapped.

The guy raised his palms and quickly exited the scene. Unwilling to test what clearly was a warning that Coco would happily make good on.

You tugged on him, trying to get him to move away from the crowd. Scanning those around you to see who saw or heard, you noticed more than you would’ve liked. They wouldn’t make a fuss, noting his kutte, but still.

“Stop it. What are you even doing here?” You hissed, tugging his arm harshly for his attention.

He turned his gaze, wild with adrenaline and arrogance at his victory, on you. “You should’ve stopped yourself before throwing it back on random fuckers for the internet. This is on you.”

“No, this is on you. If you hadn’t done what you did or said what you said…”. You trailed off remembering that you couldn’t recall what had happened, just the frustration.

“What did I say or do (y/n)?” He noted your visible annoyance that he’d chosen to use your real name instead of a pet name, and with a smirk, he walked you backwards until your back gently hit the fence.

Between not recalling what started the fight, and your man looking amazing, you settled on a pathetic. “You remember.”

“No I don’t, and neither do you.” that familiar prickle of intensity sparked between the two of you.

Everything between you and Coco felt like a live wire dancing back and forth. High energy moments usually ended in either great sex, or separation (sometimes by the force of your friends) to let things cool down.

“I know you’re gonna catch a case if you keep moving like that Johnny. Is that what you want?”

“Nah mujer, that ain’t what I want. I want you home where you belong, but you’re out here playing me instead.” Slender fingers tugged sharply at a few of the beaded necklaces in your stack.

You sucked your teeth and turned your head, ignoring the warm cheeks and butterflies in your stomach at his on-brand admission of missing you.

He placed a hand on the fence next to your head, grasping your chin to turn your attention back to him.

“You’re being a drama queen. I thought I was talking to Angel for a second.”

He threw his head back as laughed, and you got an almost overwhelming urge to kiss him. Or at least bury your fingers in his soft curls, they were begging for it at this po-

“Fuck that, he’s still got me beat. Wait til you see the tantrum he’s saving for you for not getting invited tonight.”

“He was, I just told her to can it because of you. He should be mad at you.” You pouted, but your tone was teasing.

“I could put in a good word for you…you know, if you’re done being petty.” He leaned in, running his lips over the shell of your ear.

“Or I could just offer to throw it back on him to make him forget.”

It was your turn to laugh when Coco tensed, and pulled back from where he’d been teasing you with light touches. You didn’t love him no longer touching you, but faltering him made it almost worth it.

“Or you could take me home and we could both forget…” you clutched at his kutte, leaning into him.

He pulled your hands away by your wrists, his thumbs rubbing over your pulse points.

“Nah, if dancing is this fucking important to you, come on then.” He pulled you after him.

“Cocooo,” you whined, more interested in getting him to touch you again. “Take me home already.”

“My lady wants to dance.” He sat on the outdoor wicker couch and patted his lap. “So dance.”

You stood there in confusion for a second, before what he meant became clear. “I’m not doing that here!”

“You didn’t have an issue earlier, move those hips ma.” He looked between you and his lap again.

Could’ve been the way he was biting his lip, or the laid back way he rested against the couch, but that coupled with lack of access to him, had affirmative words running through your mind.

You playfully rolled your eyes, faking like his request was that expensive. “Only because I want to get you home, and I know you’ll never quit whining if I don’t.”

You slipped onto his lap, the action already drawing attention from partygoers just for the potential of what was to come.

He grasped your hips to still you before you started to move, his palm pressing you back to him by your throat. “And don’t half-ass it yeah…or I might do the same when I get you home.”

--------

It wasn’t until Creeper hit his shoulder and informed him of how hard he was smiling that EZ realized his cheeks ached. He couldn’t help it, he loved watching you dance more than anything.

As soon as you heard a melody you liked, you came alive to it, and stole everyone’s attention. You could find the beat on anything.

That wasn’t his sole reason for cheesing so hard though. Tonight had been the first night you brought your closest friends around the club, and he knew it took great trust in him, his brothers, and your relationship to do that. Your family was on the East Coast, so your friends filled that role for you. Coupled with EZ, they were your world and he thanked you everyday for letting him in.

“Gonna stop calling you boy scout if you keep enjoying the show this much.” Creeper took the seat across from him, half blocking his view.

“Oh you didn’t know how EZ gets down?” Angel’s lips formed that mischievous grin, his eyes taking on the same glint. “You should’ve seen him begging me for tales from Angel’s crib.”

“She and her girls look good out there. Might be too much for you junior.”

EZ rolled his eyes at the ribbing from his brothers, his grin still intact. “At some point I’m gonna be patched, I’m happy to make a cage date for that day. Pretty sure I can take both of you.

Creeper and Angel exchanged exaggerated incredulous expressions.

“See what happens when you go easy on the help?” Angel scoffed. “You sound like you’re hurtin’ for work prospect.”

“Could use some more water.” Creeper shook his water bottle at him, just barely missing splashing him.

EZ rose from his seat, empty beer bottle in hand. “Just remember that day is coming.”

Angel and Creeper laughed raucously at that.

“Don’t get your ass beat in front of your woman lil bro!”

EZ shook his head, choosing to ignore his dumbass older brother. and tossed his bottle in the trash. Slipping through the moving bodies until he was near you, he gently patted your friend who nodded and stepped from behind you.

You jumped, surprised at his sudden appearance, but settled back against him.

“Hey baby.” You gently encouraged him to follow the sway of your hips as he placed his head on your shoulder.

“Hey. I’m back on the slave clock, you want anything?”

You turned to him, his arms instinctively encircling your waist. “Hard tea please.”

“I gotta go to the trailer for that, and get the variety hour table over there a drink. I’ll try to be quick.”

“Don’t rush, but remember, you owe me a dance.” You cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He grinned goofily, his attention solely yours until he felt your girls draping themselves over him.

“Can you get us some too Zeke? Thanks.” “Preciate it Z.”

You giggled pushing them off him, but you knew he didn’t mind. You guys were a package deal and he’d take whatever you came with. At least their requests came with pleasantries.

“Sure ladies, not a problem. Don’t let anyone take her while I’m gone.”

They laughed, giving affirmative replies while you rolled your eyes pushed him towards the side door.

Once he began his drink fulfillment quest, it was like every brother wanted something from him. It was a full house that night and he should’ve known once he was no longer under Angel’s break protection, he was back to errand boy status.

Every task he completed was met with teasing about how his rushed pace clearly pointed to him wanting to get back to you. He didn’t argue the fact, just moved faster every time you were mentioned.

Finally, he was able to to focus on your request when he stopped being flagged down.

He was heading to the trailer when one of your friends stopped him.

“One of the other charter’s guys is annoying our girl. She doesn’t wanna make a fuss cause’..you know.” She gestured to his vest to signify his prospect status. “But I know she’s not feeling it.”

He could feel the the muscles in his jaw flex in anger, feet carrying him across the crowded yard. People moved before he could plow through them, which was just as well, because he wasn’t fully in control at that point, and didn’t think he could slow down enough to sidestep them.

The clubhouse had filled considerably since his absence. He scanned the room for you, finding you in a crowd of moving bodies. Your friend was right, you had a good poker face, but your man knew you.

He didn’t waste time physically separating you from the Yuma patch member. He gently put you behind his person, feeling your small hands press against his back through his vest.

“I’m good baby. He agreed this was the last dance.” Your voice belied your annoyance despite your words.

“I’m guessing he said that more than once.”

“I don’t mind, I know clu-“

Yuma interrupted you. “See, she doesn’t mind. Go find something to do with yourself prospect.”

“I’ve got a project in mind.” EZ pushed you back a little more to give himself room to work with.

“Be smart bare vest.” Yuma smirked, his eyes saying how much he’d love for EZ to make the mistake he was thinking about.

In the span of the next few seconds, Yuma’s vest and shirt was covered in beer and Coco had appeared at the same time. If the obvious way he was holding the bottle didn’t give away he did it on purpose, his dry “my bad” and shrug did.

Yuma swung on Coco who anticipated it and dodged it, before firing back with a successful punch of his own. A sea of Mayans of mixed charter filled the space and EZ quickly pushed you behind the bar before he lost you in the shuffle.

Understanding what Coco had done, he got in the middle to give the Yuma patch what he’d been asking for while he was covered by the chaos.

It didn’t last long before the presidents stepped in, but it didn’t have to. He was happy to take the few licks he’d received, because he was pretty sure he’d broken Yuma patch’s nose, and would get away with it.

His brother’s words against theirs, and the presidents didn’t feel the need to make it a drawn out issue. He pretended to have played bouncer instead of active participant, and it all ended with a basic chewing out.

His only thoughts were of you once his rage had subsided, and he could think clearly again. Had he scared off you and your friends? Embarrassed you?

He was happy to find that hadn’t. Your friends couldn’t help but fawn over him and how “perfect for you” he was. He especially enjoyed reveling in the jealousy of Coco, Angel, Gilly, and Creeper. Coco slightly less salty when he got praise for his efforts.

He got his admiration from you later when you patched him up in the trailer, soft voice telling him how sexy he looked to you, and how you appreciated him thinking of you in his position. You held his face and gently went over everything you could find, while he said on his makeshift bed content to let you.

He couldn’t stop grinning, the one that always got him mercilessly mocked because it was now associated with him thinking of you.

“Seriously EZ,” you dabbed at the final cut you hadn’t attended to. “Thank you.”

“I want you to feel safe with me, it’s only fair if you can accept all this shit.”

You grinned down at him, hair framing your face, and he had to remind himself to breathe at the sight. “I do, all the time.”

He cupped the side of your face, unwilling to fight the urge to kiss you any longer.

You laughed speaking between kisses. “I’m not done.”

“It’s ok, I’m good.” He chased your lips, unashamed to want you so badly.

“Ok,” you returned his kisses, your fingers dancing down the nape of his neck. “But I’d like to cash in that dance you owe me…you know, before we get too busy.”

He rose to full height, hands finding both of yours. “I can do that.”

AN:

I don’t speak Spanish, so if I made a mistake feel free to hop in my messages and let me know and how to fix it please. You’re more than welcome to.

1.) I remember seeing a meme vid about this years ago, and finding it hilarious. I could see this happening with these dudes and their personalities. That, and I just really wanted a lil southern culture in a Mayans drabble. 🤷🏾‍♀️

2.) I did a rewatch of the whole series (including the original), and I’m back on the obsession train. Just tryna to be happy before S4 kicks my shit in.

3.) I kept telling myself I wouldn’t end up writing for these fools and here I am in my Ringling Bros. best🤡.

#mayans mc #mayans imagine #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #Coco Cruz #Coco Cruz x reader #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes #reader insert

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dirty-jammies · 2 years

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GOD. DAMNIT. Why does my brain supply me with the RAUNCHIEST fckin thoughts at work???

Anyway have this

(Silco x GN!Reader x Marcus. Warnings: rough sex, dom/sub, degradation, humiliation, penetrative sex, oral, cum-eating, anal fingering, prostate orgasm)

Imagine Silco cucking Marcus, but to the Nth degree. Imagine Silco involving Marcus and domming the fuck out of both of you.

Silco would have Marcus bound, fully clothed, and sat at the foot of the bed, being forced to watch as Silco fucked you doggy-style within an inch of your life. Your eyes would be rolling back, unable to do more than drool into the sheets and cry out Silco's name, even right in front of Marcus's face. Silco would fuck you as long as he wanted, not caring how many times you cum. Your inner thighs and belly would be sopping wet with lube and your own release. Marcus would watch you get rocked back and forth, all while Silco degraded both of you.

"You think you deserve to fuck my slut, boy?"

"Look at how they react under my touch, as if you could ever please them like this."

"Such a filthy whore, you like being watched? Like being put on display for our guest? That's it, keep saying my name. Tell him who owns you."

Silco would move you to lay back on his chest, letting his cock nail you deeper and put your arousal on full display for Marcus. Marcus would be forced to see you all stretched out, how your body reacted to being fucked by a powerful man. Silco would groan deeply as he came, filling you up, pushing as deep as possible. You'd better thank him afterwards, or you'd be punished.

Silco would toss you onto the bed and spread your exhausted legs. He would grab Marcus by his hair and throw him onto the bed in front of you. Marcus would watch as your well-used hole clenched around nothing, cum threatening to leak out. Once more, Silco's hand would be entangled in Marcus's short black hair, and he would press his face between your legs, making you both moan.

"Eat up, boy. And don't spill a fucking drop."

Marcus would whimper, almost suffocating against your skin, as his mouth set to work. There would be tears in his eyes as he licked and sucked Silco's bitter cum out of your hole. In your fucked-out, oversensitive state, all you could do is grind onto Marcus's tongue. You wouldn't dare say Marcus's name. After all, it is Silco who is allowing you to feel this good.

"Does it taste good, boy? How fucking hard are you right now? Does drinking my cum get you off?"

Marcus IS, in fact, desperately hard. It's all he can do to not grind into the bed under him as he eats you out. He knows he mustn't, though, lest Silco whipped his ass with his belt, leaving welts that stung for days, or punish him with a locked ring around his cock, holding back his release for however long Silco deemed appropriate.

Silco would rip down Marcus's pants just enough to expose his ass, then spit onto his hole as Marcus groaned into your skin. Two lithe fingers would shove into him roughly, and Silco would laugh.

"Use this to get off or don't get off at all, boy. Bet you wish it was my cock, hm? Maybe another time. Finish your treat and cum in your fucking pants, then you'll be free to go."

Marcus does, writhing and pressing back against Silco's fingers that were abusing that spot inside him. He shamefully dirtied the front of his uniform pants, the dark stain impossible to miss. Upon the enforcer going limp, Silco would withdraw his hand and pull back Marcus's hair with his clean one, spreading you open embarrassingly wide to make sure Marcus finished his meal. Impressed, Silco's hand in Marcus's hair became gentler, and he may even mutter out a small "Good boy."

Silco would untie Marcus and allow you both a moment of reprieve. You would be curled up in Silco's arms, and Marcus would rest his head on your lap. After the sweat had cooled, Marcus would be free to leave, if he wanted. Even though Silco was the hardest dom in the undercity, there would always be three glasses of fresh water and a stack of warm towels waiting on the bedside table for all three of you.

#Pajama writes #silco x reader #silco smut #silco x gender neutral reader #marcus x reader #Marcus smut

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rocorambles · 3 years

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Hit It Till It Breaks

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Mafia AU, NSFW, Drug Dealing, Dub-Con/Non-Con Sex, Dub-Con/Non-Con Drug Consumption, Drug Addiction, Manipulation, Humiliation, Degradation, Prostitution, Slight Pet Play

Prompt: Hard At Work

Summary: Growing up, you’d always loved fairy tales and happy endings. You’d always believed that despite how bad things might seem or get, there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. But you’re quickly realizing that this isn’t a fairy tale, that there is no happy ending, and that sometimes, you only go downhill, farther and farther from the light.

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist to see how everyone decided to run with this spicy prompt.

(Thank you as always @sawamooora for helping me keep this a coherent degenerate mess~)

It’s hard to believe that bright eyed girl holding her college diploma in the photo on your nightstand was you not that long ago. And your heart clenches when you remember how hopeful you had been. So excited to venture out and experience life. Ready to enter the job market. Ready to be an adult.

Doors opened and closed. But you hadn’t let it deter you at first. It just wasn’t meant to be. You can’t expect to get the first job you interview for!

But then more and more doors opened, only to be shut in your face.Your rose-tinted glasses began to crack as your funds quickly dwindled, as you lowered your standards, desperately mass applying to any small time company vaguely related to your major, only to be turned away at every step.

And now, here you are, barely able to make rent, barely able to even feed yourself with the little you have from odd part-time jobs you’ve managed to stitch together into some sort of financial life line.

Well, you HAD been barely able to make rent, but your hands tremble when you stare at the letter notifying you that your rent will begin to increase starting next month, mind speeding into a panicked haze as you unsuccessfully try to think of what to do, how you can possibly afford to live even in this dump anymore. And before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re scrambling, stumbling to your bathroom, throwing open your medicine cabinet as you rummage for the little pills that you know will help slow down your racing thoughts and provide much needed clarity.

You swear everything seems clearer as soon as the smooth texture hits your tongue and you can finally breathe, slumping down on the cold tiles of your floor, pill bottle still clutched in your hand as you allow yourself to relax, praying for any ideas to flow through you. And it hits you like a ton of bricks when your grip on the plastic container accidentally loosens and the bottle clangs against the floor.

A humorless chuckle slips past your lips as you stare at the rolling cylinder.

Drug dealing. Fucking drug dealing.

You can’t believe you’re even thinking of going down this route, but your mind flashes back to old roommates, old friends, old classmates who had nonchalantly made a pretty bundle on the side, carelessly tossing around and selling all types of prescription drugs on campus. And you vividly remember how simple they had made it seem, how they had all gotten away with it. Scrumptious meals, pricey alcohol, far beyond a college palette, and beautiful clothing were the only “consequences” for their crimes.

If they could do it, you could too. Or so you’d like to think.

But as naive and ignorant as you are about this line of work, even you know there’s a difference between selling to silly college students on campus, and selling it at a popular nightclub owned by an infamous crime syndicate.

Even as far removed as you are from the more seedy underbelly of the new city you live in, you know of the Seijoh Syndicate. Everyone in town does. It’s hard not to when they literally run and own the entire place.

Oikawa Tooru and the rest of the Seijoh Four run their domain with an iron fist. They’re practically nonexistent, merely a scary story to keep people in line, for those who abide by the laws and keep their noses out of trouble, but an all too real nightmare for those who choose to defy them. And you shudder, remembering the horror stories you had heard of exactly what happens to those who decide to try and start their own nefarious business and practices on Seijoh streets without Oikawa’s permission.

But surely they wouldn’t pay you any mind? Right? Surely a mere girl in her early twenties selling the leftover prescription medicine she has in her cabinets for one night won’t do any harm?

Maybe it’s stupid to go to such a prevalent and well known club, especially one that’s notoriously favored by the Seijoh Four. But you convince yourself that it’s the most crowded venue in the area with a target demographic who’s guaranteed to buy you out, even at the obscene prices you plan on charging. How would anyone even notice you? Where else could you go? What options do you even have?

So despite the nervous pit swelling in your stomach, you soldier on, plastering a cheery smile at the bouncer who easily waves you in without a second glance, slipping into the sweaty mass of bodies, going deeper and deeper until you’re surrounded - skin, bones, and muscles pressing against you on all sides, safe from any prying eyes.

Or so you believe.

You know who the Seijoh Four are. You even know their names. But never have you met them, never have you ever seen a picture of what they each look like. Not that it would help you if you did when you’re so laser focused on finding potential customers, not even bothering to look around to see if anyone’s watching you. So you carry on, unaware of the four sets of eyes looking at you in amusement from their roost high above the writhing crowds.

There’s nothing subtle about the way you sloppily nudge people, practically shoving your pills in stranger’s faces, almost wildly waving your merchandise around you in a desperate attempt to pull in buyers. Sweaty nervous hands fumble as you exchange little plastic baggies for wads of cash and Matsukawa raises a brow in disbelief while Hanamaki cackles when you drop your merch and payment, getting on all fours on the trashed dance floor to recollect your goods.

It might be the most amusing show they’ve had in a while, but Iwaizumi feels a pang of pity at the wild hopeless look in your eyes and he swiftly stands, brusquely telling the other three that he’s going to go down and tell you off with just a warning, only to be stopped when Oikawa smoothly stands to his feet, effectively blocking Iwaizumi’s path.

“Now, now Iwa-chan. Don’t be so hasty. Let me go talk to the cutie. I’ve been so bored recently and she looks like she’ll be fun! Plus you’ll make her cry with that scary face of yours.”

Suddenly the sight of you bumbling around isn’t quite as entertaining as the remaining three men watch the brunette prowl towards you, heavy realization of what’s to come sombering the mood.

You’re frantic, flitting about the throngs of flailing limbs and swaying bodies, frustration from not being able to get through your supplies fast enough weighing at your conscious. Sure, you’ve managed to accrue some cash, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough to even feed yourself for the coming week let alone make a dent in the daunting rent that looms over you. And you can feel hot tears prick at the corner of your eyes when you see that it’s almost closing time and you’re still stuck with more than half your inventory, no closer to figuring out how to survive. So when a hand firmly rests on your shoulder, you whip around, ready to take your anger out on the poor soul who’s managed to catch you at the worst time. But you freeze, vicious words stuck in your mouth when you see the handsome man beaming down at you, a thick wad of rolled up bills haphazardly dangling from his fingers.

“I heard you might have some stuff I’d be interested in.”

You wonder if this is all a dream, if the man in front of you is (ironically a devilishly) handsome angel swooping into save you when he casually asks you how much stuff you still have, how much you’d be willing to sell everything for, not even blinking an eye at your outrageous price tag. You’re so stunned by how quick he is to call it a done deal, not resisting even a bit as he wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling you after him, saying some vague comments about wanting to go somewhere a little more private since it’s a bigger trade. All you can think about is how you’ll finally be able to eat something other than instant noodles and not have to worry about rent as you throw yourself back into interviewing, too lost in thoughts to be wary of how you’re being dragged farther and farther away from the rowdy crowd.

But the sound of a door slamming shut behind you jolts you back to reality and Oikawa fights back a laugh at how adorable you are, eyes blown wide like a deer in headlights as your head swivels side to side, dismay and panic making you tremble when you survey the private room you’re in, throat nervously gulping when you notice the three other occupants.

You’re so predictable and Oikawa just rolls his eyes fondly at how you swiftly turn around, trying to lunge towards the door in an attempt to escape, taking his time to leisurely make his way towards you, brown orbs taking in every inch of you as Matsukawa and Hanamaki hold your writhing body in place.

It’s so satisfying watching you crumble to pieces before his very eyes at just the mention of his name, despair and fear swirling beautifully on your face when he continues to introduce the rest of the Seijoh Four. It never gets old, that deliciously addicting feeling of power he feels when people tremble from just a few syllables and he relishes in your pleading apologies and your tears, patiently waiting for you to finish your little sob story, barely listening to the details as he focuses in on how gorgeous you are, broken and vulnerable.

And really, there’s no need for him to pay close attention to your blabbering anyway. It always comes down to one thing…

“So you need money, cutie? How about working for me?”

“Oye! Oikawa-”

“I’m just asking her some questions, Iwa-chan.”

There’s tense silence and your eyes nervously flicker back and forth between the two imposing figures staring each other down, green and brown eyes clashing in a silent argument. But as if they’ve somehow come to a conclusion, Iwaizumi tsks and looks away while Oikawa turns his attention back to you, a sickeningly cheerful grin on his face.

Blood curling fear lances through you and you’re almost grateful for the two pairs of strong arms holding you tight, their grip keeping you from falling to your knees as your legs threaten to give out under the pressure you feel as Oikawa thoughtfully looks at you.

You know the smart answer would be to adamantly say no and promptly figure out a way to leave this moment far behind you, even if it means forfeiting any money you had made tonight. But...a job is a job, right? And surely a job in the Seijoh Syndicate would be more lucrative than anything you’re doing now, right?

Oikawa hides a smile at the way he can see the cogs in your head turn, apprehension turning to curiosity as you stutter out questions about pay and what the job would entail. Desperation is a good look on anyone, but it suits you particularly well and just like that, hook, line, and sinker, he has a new cute live-in maid to replace the recently vacated role.

Working as Oikawa’s maid is more...normal than you would have expected. Not that you’re complaining and other than the embarrassing maid outfit he makes you wear, complete with frilly bow and garters, the chores are mundane. Bring breakfast to him and wake him. Clean his room and do his laundry when he’s away at meetings or jobs. Make sure guests have refreshments when they come over to his large estate, a mansion you now also call home.

If you’re honest, it’s much more relaxing than the multiple part-time jobs you had been juggling previously, and with free board, free food, and the substantial paycheck that regularly makes its way to your bank account, you can see your future brightening up again. When your duties are done for the day, you resume practicing for interviews and keeping up with the industry, feeling emboldened and empowered to finally resume working towards the career path you had always dreamed of.

But the more time you spend with Oikawa, the closer and more entangled in your life the brunette becomes. Alarm bells ring wildly in your head as you’re forced to join him for meals, forced to dress in elaborate gowns and jewelry while you’re waltzed around on his arm, forced to travel around the world with him, and attend to him like a glorified assistant. He’s too charming, too familiar, too bold, and you can’t help but feel like you’re racing towards some inevitable crash as he easily brushes aside any boundaries between the two of you.

You know so many women would kill to be in your shoes and you can understand why, not completely immune to his playful smile and the lilt of his voice yourself. But you know better, know exactly how dangerous it would be to get involved with a man like Oikawa Tooru.

It’s clear from the crimson stains on the clothes he leaves for you to either dispose of, or have cleaned. It’s clear from the wails and sobs of woman after woman he uses and tosses aside like garbage on an almost daily basis. It’s clear from the guns, knives, and weapons, most of which you don’t even know the name of, filling up all the walls, drawers, and cabinets.

So you do your best to keep your distance, building titanium walls around your heart. Always polite, too terrified of what would happen if you pissed him off, but cold enough to deter him from more amorously or intimately testing his boundaries.

And it seems to work as he turns his eyes towards other women, leaving you alone after throwing a few flirty comments and winks your way and ultimately falling in bed with some other poor damsel. But you nervously gulp when it’s just the two of you one night and just as you’re ready to make yourself scarce after turning down his bed and laying out his pajamas, his voice beckons you over and you anxiously bite your lower lip at the sight of pills of all shapes and sizes splayed out across his desk.

Other than your prescription medicine, you don’t have a lot of experience with drugs other than the few blunts here and there during your college years and you had always strictly kept to your recommended doses, never even entertaining the idea of taking more. So the sight in front of you is overwhelming and you hesitantly stare anywhere but at the table surface, anxiously waiting for Oikawa to explain why he called you over. But what you’re not expecting is the warm hand gently grasping your wrist and holding your arm out, small objects being carefully placed in your outstretched palm, and soft coaxing from Oikawa to “give them a try”.

Every part of you is screaming to throw the pills and make a run for it, begging you to come up with some excuse or just outright reject his offer. But it’s as if your body is frozen and he firmly pushes your hand to your mouth, grip tightening enough to make you wince when you hesitate to listen. The slight pain is enough to remind you that you’re not exactly in any position to negotiate and you force yourself to down the pills and gulp down the glass of water he holds to your lips.

The last thing you remember is the unsettling feeling of beginning a descent to an unknown place from which there is no return as Oikawa pulls you to his bed. And then euphoria floods through you as your body slots against his larger frame.

It feels good. Too good. Unnaturally good. But it’s intoxicating and you can’t help but let yourself drown in the hazy waves crashing down upon you, feeling lighter, freer, happier than you have for years. You vaguely register roaming hands, a hot wet mouth, a body on top of yours, something hard pressing against the apex of your thighs, filling you, consuming you in heady pleasure only amplified by the drugs coating your insides.

Bliss. Pleasure. Pure unadulterated joy. And then nothing.

When you come to, the weight of what had happened last night comes crashing down on you, making your foggy mind throb even more and you can feel bile rising inside of you as a toned arm around your waist tightens its hold on you. Oikawa grunts in annoyance when you claw your way out from his hold, scampering on shaky legs to his bathroom, heaving and expelling the contents of your stomach, trying futilely to cleanse yourself of your employer’s touch.

You flinch when you hear footsteps approach, shrinking into the corner of the tiled room, body crouched and curled into a tight ball as you try to save any shred of dignity you still have by hiding your naked body as much as you can from his prying eyes. Salty drops threaten to trail down your face when he hovers over you, sweetly cooing down at you “not to be like this”, “you liked it so much last night”, “come back to bed with me” only to stream down your face when his countenance swiftly changes, handsome face glowering down at you before brusquely turning away and snapping at you to “get on with your work then if you’re going to be an annoying bitch”.

It’s easy to convince yourself that you’re just being smart, just trying to survive as you obediently wash up and don your humiliating uniform, that it isn’t just you being a coward as you submissively go about your usual work day, still sitting with thighs pressed against Oikawa’s legs at meals, making no move to brush off the heavy arm he slings around your shoulders, only slightly flinching when his fingertips teasingly play with the hem of your skirt as he converses with the rest of the Seijoh Four.

But you can’t deny that all you are is a weak fool, desperate to live when you shakily accept the pills he pushes towards you again that night, silently crying yet not doing anything to prevent the inevitable as you swallow any self-respect or pride you had along with the smooth pellets under his watchful gaze, too scared of the glimmer of gunmetal you see on the inside of his jacket to even think of resisting.

And history repeats itself. Over and over again.

Oikawa smiles at how different you are from that skittish creature who fled from his every touch, smirking at how naive and innocent you still are as you try to hide how eager you are for your daily dose, unaware of how he’s slowly been increasing it every night, ignorant of how you unconsciously lean into his touches, pretty lips wrapping around his fingers as he hand feeds you.

Do you know what an animal you are in bed these days? Do you realize how little there is left to differentiate you from one of his filthy whores when you’re so doped up on whatever he gives you, moaning like a pornstar and leaving vicious red claw marks on his skin as you bounce on his cock?

And he knows it’s time to move onto the next phase of your conditioning when there’s not even a speck of shame in your clear eyes when the sunlight begins to filter through the window, knowingly smiling in satisfaction when instead of slinking off to wallow in your regret you shimmy down between his legs and begin to nuzzle and mouth his morning wood, face full of nothing but wanton desire as you take his cock in your mouth.

He doesn’t give you anything that night. Or the next night. Or the one after that. He doesn’t so much as even look at you outside of your usual eye contact, not a single flirtatious word slipping past his lips.

You should be grateful. This is what you wanted, right? To keep things strictly professional between the two of you. To not be coerced into the artificial pleasure you’ve been swallowing on a daily basis for the last month now. To not feel like just another warm body for Oikawa to taint.

Your interview notes and open tab of job listings are right there, begging for your attention, practically screaming at you to pursue the life you’ve always dreamed of.

Yet here you are, not even a week later, on your knees in between Oikawa’s legs as he leisurely reclines in his chair, peppering his inner thighs with kisses and rubbing your face against the growing bulge in his trousers, begging and pleading for another dose, feeling utterly empty and cold inside, unable to sleep, unable to focus, unable to function without the nights of hazy ecstasy.

Your heart drops at the long disappointed sigh the brunette releases.

“Drugs are expensive, cutie. I was just being nice and letting you try some new batches we’ve been producing, but now that they’re on the market, I can’t just keep on giving them to you for free.”

He rolls his eyes when you adamantly tell him you’ll pay whatever the price is, a condescending smirk splitting his face from how quick you are to shut up, soul crushed when he reveals the extravagant cost, a price he knows you can’t afford with the salary he’s providing you with.

But he artfully softens his smile as he begins to unbuckle his pants, sliding the fabric down and letting his throbbing cock spring into view, chuckling when it lightly slaps your face as it’s released from its confines, wondering if you’re drooling from the sight of his erection or the pills he’s playfully placing along the length of it.

“I know you don’t have that money, cutie. But I’d be willing to accept other forms of payments.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before you’re rushing to take him in his mouth and he loudly laughs at how obscene you look, slobbering all over his length, fervently bobbing your head up and down, hastily trying to deep throat him to reach the pill strategically placed right at the base of his shaft, lips puckering as you inhale the drugs, swallowing around him in a way that has him groaning as you stuff your face full of chemicals and pre-cum. And it doesn’t take much longer for him to wash your mouth and throat with warm rivulets of sticky white fluids as he watches the goods take effect, his balls tightening and cock straining with arousal as you reach between your legs, fingers playing with your tight dripping hole while your lewd moans vibrate against him.

It’s pathetically endearing how you can’t keep off of him after that, insisting on sitting on his lap during meals, your cute ass grinding against his clothed cock, always dropping to your knees in between chores, warming his cock in your greedy mouth, always asking him how many pills you’ve earned so far. You really are just his little slutty drug addict now, aren’t you?

But he needs you to be more than that, needs you to learn that you belong to anyone who’s willing to give you the high you crave, needs you to realize that you’re just a free use drug addicted whore for anyone and everyone to use.

So despite how tempting it is to just plunge balls deep inside your tight little pussy, he shoves you off of him one night as you try to grind against his body, feigning exhaustion and boredom of your body, watching in amusement at the panicked crazed look that flashes across your face at his words. Well aren’t you a beautiful sight, throwing yourself at his feet and groveling, saying you’ll do anything for another dose.

Anything, huh?

In your defense, even through the daze of your withdrawal, there’s still a wary expression on your face when Matsukawa and Hanamaki enter the room. Maybe you aren’t as broken as Oikawa had thought. But when you see the little baggies filled with the tablets you’ve become far too familiar with twirling between the duo’s fingers, you practically lunge at them and Oikawa finally allows himself the pleasure of reaching into his pants and stroking himself to the debauched sight playing out in front of him.

Maybe he needs to fuck you in front of a mirror more often if this is what you look like from an outside perspective. It’s like you were made to be used, to be just a warm toy for men to use and Oikawa can’t help but think you look best like this, cocks penetrating both your front and back holes, your body squeezed between two bodies. And he fondly smiles at how you have Hanamaki’s face between the palms of your hands, your lips locked in a sloppy kiss as your tongue ravages the strawberry blonde’s mouth, searching for the pills the man had playfully placed on the tip of his tongue in front of your very eyes before winking at you and telling you to come and get them yourself if you wanted them so badly.

They keep your daily training a surprise, mixing up who gets to wreck your body each day, how many cocks and rounds of cum you’ll need to pay with, what pills and dosage you get. Always keeping you lost and confused, making sure your mind is just a muddled mess that can only think of reaching your next high by any means necessary.

Hell, even Iwaizumi takes part when he realizes that you’re beyond the point of no return, that Oikawa wasn’t joking when he said that there is no other choice for you anymore. This is your life now. This is who you are now. This is your “happily ever after”. He knows all that, can see all that in the way your dazed eyes only come to life at the sight of your addiction, your otherwise listless body perking up at the sound of the tiny objects rattling in their container. And yet a small sliver of guilt has him growling at you to get on all fours, ensuring your face isn’t visible, turning you into just another body for him to mindlessly use as he pleases.

It’s an uncomfortable position, borderline painful as your knees rock back and forth on the hard floor with every brutal thrust of Iwaizumi’s hips. But you don’t care, the aching pain in your legs just dull background noise as you fixate on the tablets scattered on the floor in front of your face, dropping your entire upper body low to the ground, only your hips raised high as your mouth snaps forward. You’re so close and you mewl as your lips make contact with the first pill, uncaring of the pitiful sight you make licking and lapping the floor, whimpering when a hand firmly grabs you by the hair and roughly pulls your face away from your feast.

“Maybe we should get you a dog bowl, cutie. It’s humiliating even for you to be eating from the dirty floor like that. Hold her hair for me, Iwa-chan.”

You crane your neck back and forth, jaw jutting forward as you frantically fight against the tight grip holding you back, mouth drooling and tongue extending like a ravenous animal. But it’s no use and you whine, too focused on your unfinished “meal” to notice how Oikawa is still standing in front of you, cock pulled out from his pants, his hands rapidly fisting the shaft. And only when thick white spurts glaze the remaining pills do you whip your attention towards him, staring with hopeful wide eyes when he crouches in front of you and grabs your face.

“When Iwa-chan lets go of your hair, you’ll get to have the rest of your treats, but you also have to eat the special seasoning I’ve generously given you, okay? If I see even a speck of it left, you’re not getting anything tomorrow, understand?”

Oikawa laughs at how vigorously you nod your head and with a nod in Iwaizumi’s direction, you’re released and the two men watch on as you lick the floor until it’s sparkling clean, slumping your face in the mess of your own drying saliva as you reach euphoria once more. You wail as Iwaizumi shoves you off a cliff and into floating clouds of bliss with one last thrust, the drugs in your system weaving a comforting cocoon around you that you melt into, unable to escape its soothing pull, giggling in content as his seed fills you to the brim.

There’s silence as Iwaizumi pulls out of you, tucking himself back into his pants before sitting besides Oikawa, joining him as he continues observing your used and drugged up body sprawled across the floor, a dopey smile on your face as cum begins to leak out of your spent pussy.

Minutes pass and Iwaizumi sighs, knowing what Oikawa is waiting for him to ask despite how insistent he has been over the years about not wanting to be involved in this particular side of the business...

“Are you going to have her start working at the brothel soon? She seems just about ready.”

“Not yet. I want to give her a few test runs first before I have her work full-time at that establishment. She’s only been with the four of us, so I’m curious to see how she is with a complete stranger. It’s perfect timing too since Sawamura is coming over for a meeting soon and I know he won’t damage the goods if I gift her to him for a night or two. Plus, she hasn’t completely lost her mind yet so we can get some more use out of her before we toss her aside...”

The brunette rambles on, tone light and airy as if he’s just discussing the weather or a TV show he watched, as if he’s not mere feet away from a woman he’s utterly destroyed and rebuilt into just another brainless profit-making doll.

And Iwaizumi tunes him out, already having heard almost this exact speech countless times by now, unable to even keep track of how many others like you there have been in the past, unwilling to think about how many more there will be in the future. But he snorts at Oikawa’s typical closing line.

“I guess it’s almost time to find a new cute maid.”

#haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader #tw: yandere #tw: drugging #tw: drugs #tw: addiction #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon

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tuiccim · 3 years

Text

Never Have I Ever

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Previous Nat x Reader

Word Count: 1289

Warnings: Smut, NSFW 18+, language

A/N: This is for the HBC’s @the-ss-horniest-book-club Drunk Drabbles / Divider by @firefly-graphics

Tonight’s team night had devolved into fits of laughter over drinks. Even Bucky and Steve were feeling a bit tipsy as they sipped on some Asgardian brew Thor had given them. You looked around the room at all of your friends, Steve, Sam, Tony, Natasha, Wanda, Vision, Clint, and Bucky, whom you were curled up with.

“Time for shenanigans!” Tony announces, holding up two bottles with a shit-eating grin on his face. “I propose a round of Never Have I Ever.”

“You’ll have alcohol poisoning before it’s over, Tony.” You say to a chorus of laughter.

“Haha. You can start us off, wiseass.” Tony says, taking a seat once more.

“Wait, how do you play this?” Steve asks.

“I’ll say something like ‘Never have I ever been frozen” and if you have, you take a drink.” You explain.

“What’s the point of the game?” Bucky asks, arms still around you.

“To learn each others’ dirty little secrets and get drunk doing it.” Sam smirks.

“Let’s go.” Tony gives you a pointed look.

“Never have I ever slept with a reporter.” You smirk at Tony. You watch as he, Natasha, Sam, and Steve all take a drink, “Really, Cap?” Steve turns bright red and you cackle, “Your turn, Steve.”

“Oh, uh, never have I ever worn a thong.” Steve glares at you while you smile sweetly and take a sip of your drink along with Nat, Wanda, Clint, and Sam. “Okay, Clint I get, but Sam?”

“What does that mean?” Clint says as the rest of you laugh.

“Well-” Sam begins.

“No, no! I don’t wanna know! Just go on with the game.” Bucky hollars.

“Fine. Never have I ever slept with a fellow Avenger.” Sam gives a cocky grin.

You roll your eyes and take a drink as Bucky, Natasha, Wanda, and Vision do the same. Slyly, you exchange a glance with Natasha who smirks and then says, “Never have I ever had sex with someone without them coming.” You, she and Wanda giggle as every one of the guys take a drink. “You go, Clint.”

Clint, who had witnessed an interesting exchange a moment ago, smiles wickedly as he opens his mouth, “Never have I ever had sex with a female Avenger.” You and Natasha suddenly look like deer in headlights. The guys scoff as they again take a drink but when you and Natasha both lift your glasses, Clint lets out a screech of “I knew it!”

Bucky looks over at you in shock. He didn’t know that you and Natasha had slept together. You had a short friends with benefits arrangement with the beautiful redhead that had ended a few months before you and he got together. You bite your lip as you look at him. His gaze swinging between you and Nat. “You and… Nat?”

“It was months before you and I. It was just a casual fling.” You’re embarrassed to be talking about this in front of everyone but you loved Bucky and didn’t want to lose him over a purely physical fling.

Bucky stares agape at you. “We gotta go,” Bucky says as he grabs your hand and exits quickly.

“Bucky!” You say in shock as he drags you to the elevator. Bucky is silent as you ride the elevator up and when you walk into Bucky’s room, ready with an apology on your lips, but you're shocked as he presses you into the wall and kisses you fiercely. His rock-hard erection presses against you as his mouth works over yours. You undo his pants and look down as you pull his impressive length out. Your mouth waters immediately and you slide to your knees. He looks at you with barely controlled lust as you stare up at him begging permission with your eyes, “Baby?”

“Fuck,” he shoves his cock in your waiting mouth, “so fucking hot. Got so hard thinking about Nat fucking you.” His hands are in your hair as he fucks your mouth with swift thrusts. “Fuck, Doll. Did she fuck you good? Make you moan and cum all over her face and fingers?”

You moan around his cock. You loved having him inside you in any way. You licked and sucked as your hands wandered over his balls and base of his cock.

“Jesus, Doll. This mouth of yours is so fucking good. Did you make Nat come with it? Did you work that hot little tongue over her cunt until she screamed? Fuck! I’m gonna come. Can I come down your throat, Doll?”

You moan and suck him deeper as you feel his release hit the back of your throat. He gives a long moan as he gently withdraws from your mouth. Looking down at you, he strokes your cheek, “Such a good girl. Strip, lay on the bed, and hold your knees for me.”

You comply immediately and the minute you grab your knees, Bucky’s hands push your thighs even further apart and his tongue teases over your slit causing you to whimper. He licks over you until he reaches your entrance and then he shoves his tongue as deep inside you as he can. You arch and moan as he fucks you with his tongue, twisting and curling it inside you until you’re writhing. He drags his tongue up to your clit and two fingers push into you.

“Oh, fuck, Bucky!” you cry out.

“That’s right, doll. Tell me how good it feels.”

“Oh, God. It’s so good,” you whine as you writhe under his attentions. His tongue flicks over your clit as his fingers fuck in and out of you. “Fuck, baby. I’m gonna come.”

Bucky swirls his tongue around your clit more quickly as you buck against him. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves and you clutch handfuls of Bucky’s hair as you ride it out on his tongue. Before you can react, Bucky has crawled up your body and sheathed himself inside you to the hilt. You arch and your breath hitches feeling the stretch of him.

“Nat ever do this to you?” Bucky asks on a thrust.

“She has strap-ons in varying sizes and lengths.” You smirk at him but throw your head back and cry out as he thrusts hard against you again. You smile at him before saying, “But she never pounded me like you do. No one’s ever fucked me the way you do-oh!” You cry out again on another rough thrust. “It’s never been this good with anyone. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. I crave you.” You look into his eyes and you both still.

“I love you.” Bucky says the words for the first time.

“I love you, too.” You grin at him as he captures your mouth and begins thrusting into you with swift thrusts. “Yes. It’s so good, Bucky.”

Bucky’s hips slam into yours over and over again, perfectly hitting that spot deep inside. The coil in you tightens and you lift yourself into his thrusts.

“Fuck, Doll, I’m close.” Bucky groans in your ear.

“Oh, God. I love you.” You let out a sinful moan as you are thrown over the edge again. Bucky’s hips stutter as he cums on a long groan.

You lay together sharing kisses and touches as you calm down.

“I meant it. I’ve never wanted someone like I want you. I’ve never loved someone like I love you.” You say to him.

“I feel the same way, Doll.” Bucky says. “I was a little jealous when I found out about you and Nat.”

“And a little turned on, huh?” You tease.

“You noticed?” Bucky chuckles.

“We could always invite her to join us. Then we could both fuck the Black Widow.” You smirk.

“Doll!”

Masterlist

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bored-mumma · 3 years

Text

Steve Rogers - Smut Alphabet - NSFW

MASTERLIST

18+ only. Very sexual nature. Swearing.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He’s the king of aftercare. He’ll get warm cloths and clean you up, will grab you a glass of water and massage any place you ask him. If there’s anything you need after sex Steve will be more than happy to do it for you. Especially on the days your legs feel like jelly.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Favourite body part of his is his arms. The way they can just pick you up and carry you, no matter your size. Or how they can pin your down against the bed when his face is in between your legs.

Steves favourite body part of yours is your thighs. The way they move when you walk, how soft they are in his hands or the feeling of them wrapped around his waist. He can’t get enough of all of your body, but your thighs are just something else.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Inside of you nearly every time. Thanks to the super serum he can’t have children anyway so there’s no pregnancy fear for you. Though it’s mostly about the feeling. Being buried deep inside of you and bringing you to your orgasm as well, so he can feel you clench around him, is a feeling he can’t describe. It’s pure heaven to him. Although some days he ends up cumming in your mouth instead, not being able to resist your lips around him and watching you swallow everything he gives.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There’s nothing he wants more than to fuck you in the compounds gym. Seeing you work out, getting all sweaty in your tight gym clothes does crazy stuff to him. It got to the point he’ll no longer work out with you, finding it too difficult to concentrate.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very experienced at all. He’s only been with a couple women, all but one of them was more than 80 years ago.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

The “upstanding citizen” ironically. You straddle Steve, wrapping your legs around his body (he keeps his knees unlocked and thighs spread slightly). He then stands and supports you in their arms. You can start on the bed and have them pick you up without disengaging. (Or for the truly bold, you can hop aboard from standing position!)

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Most of the time he’s pretty serious. His number one priority being getting you off as many times as possible. However, occasionally when you’re both in more relaxed, silly moods, Steve can crack jokes and make you laugh as well as make you feel great.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He doesn’t really do much down there. Which is fine, you’re not fussed about that and he’s not fussed about yours either.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

No matter what position or what mood he’s in, sex between you both is very intimate. Eye contact, loving whispers, moaning in each others ears and hands linked together. Its an act that brings two people to one.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Not very often since you are always usually up for it but sometimes he can’t help but get himself off in the shower. His sex drive is pretty high and he knows sometimes after a pretty rough night you may need a few days to recover before you can go another round. Although masturbation isn’t his favourite thing to do, he’ll still do it on the days he doesn’t get laid.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He’s a slight masochist, loving the pain he feels when you pull his hair hard or drag your nails down his back. He always loves a bit of orgasm control too. You riding him and getting him so close to cumming but as soon as you hear his moans getting louder, you stop all movements. He’ll get his revenge though and the next time you two have sex he’ll edge you with his tongue.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

In the safety of your shared apartment. He doesn’t care where in it and has taken you on every surface but he doesn’t like to do anything outside of your home. He’s got a reputation to keep up but not only that, the thought of someone else seeing you in an intimate position makes him crazy jealous.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

If you sit on his lap then your night is instantly sorted. Especially if you lightly rock your hips as you straddle him. He could be in the middle of the most important paperwork but if you do that then he’s gone from your loving boyfriend to just an animal.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Two of the biggest things he would never do is humiliation play or breath play. He loves and adores you too much to ever even consider humiliation play and breath play feels far too risky for him. Especially when you count in his super serum strength - one mistake and you’ll lose all breath.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He can’t get enough of your mouth. You knelt on your knees before him, head bobbing up and down as he grips your hair. Torn between throwing his head back in ecstasy or keeping his eyes fixed on you. Its now to a point where he gets excited every time he sees your hair up in a ponytail since thats what you do before giving him a blowjob.

He also loves to give you oral back too. Feeling you writhe against his face as he uses his arms to hold you down in place, hearing you cry out his name as he holds back your orgasm for the third time. Its his happy place.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually pretty rough but not overly fast. His strong thrusts are one that some may consider to be at a fast pace but since you know how fast he could get, it didn’t seem so to you. However on the occasion, he’ll go more slow, more sensual. Usually those nights consist of oral on you and some plan missionary, him going deep but slow and whispering how much he loves you.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He’ll take whatever you give him! A good few hours of fucking at night time or just a quick ride in the shower before the day starts works for him. As long as you both get off, he’s not fussed.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’ll try basically anything you want to do. To him, one of the most important part of sex is making sure you have an orgasm (or a good few!) and if you want to try different ways of doing that, he’s usually game. He also feels very comfortable in talking to you about things he’s heard about and is interested in trying and again, most of the time you say yes to them. You both only have one very strict rule. Before trying out any new kinks of play things, you have a conversation about it beforehand.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Neither of you really know how long he can last since it’s usually you who has to tap out first. After three or four rounds lasting at least an hour each, you can’t even walk. Thankfully Steve's aftercare game is strong and takes care of everything for you.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

You own a couple of toys for when Steve is away from you on work. But when Steve found them he couldn’t help but bring them into the bedroom together. Especially ones that vibrate.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not very often as he loves the feeling of you having a wave of pleasure beneath him but every once in a while he’ll be in the mood to make you suffer. Orgasm control as he eats you out. Tongue going up and down your body but missing all the places you wanted it the most. Fingers circling your clit but refusing to give as much stimulation as you wanted. Anything to get you begging for him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s not loud in volume but very loud in words. He’ll deny it but you’re certain he has a praise kink. Always whispering in your ear about what a good girl you are, how well you take him. He never stops talking/moaning and it turns him on to full extent when you do it back.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He can’t even tell you the amount of time he’s looked at you during an Avengers conference , eyes going over your body which is wrapped in your work suit - an outfit he has fucked you in so many times before. Instead of paying attention, he’ll sit there and think of all the ways he’ll play with your body later. To the other Avengers, he’s Americas man in blue, someone who is just a soldier and can do no wrong. But you and him knew his mind is one of the filthiest you’ve ever known.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

A good 9in.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive never goes down. He’s ready wherever, whenever you are. It’s usually you who initiates sex since its just easier that way. After four years together, Steve has never turned you down.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s out like a light! As soon as the two of you are finished, cleaned up and started to cuddle, you can hear his gentle snores. He doesn’t mean to do it and always tries to wait for you to sleep first but never actually manages to.

#steve rogers #imagine steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #captain america #imagine captain america #imagine the avengers #the avengers #imagine steve rogers smut #steve rogers smut #steve rogers alphabet #steve rogers smut alphabet #captain america alphabet #captain america smut alphabet #the avengers alphabet #the avengers smut alphabet #smut alphabet

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chokemeanakin · 3 years

Note

Heyyy first wanna say that I love you!! 💜❤️🤎🧡💙🤍💚🖤

Next, I’ve been really sick lately, like haven’t been bail to take down food for a solid week, and in and out of hospital for the last two weeks, so could you please write up an Anakin small fic or head canon or just anything with a really sick reader, but she finds it hard to exsept help? Your fives have been keep me alive I swear haha

Okay LOVE YOU💖💖

YOOO IVE BEEN WANTING TO DO THIS FOR WEEEEEEKKKSSS you literally read my mind !!! 😆😆😆 (also I’m so sorry that you’re terribly sick, I’m sending you all my love and I hope you get better soon. I love you too boo thang ❤️) HERE WE GO:

(Also fun fact whump is my area of expertise so if this gets to be really long I apologize — it’s just hard for me to narrow stuff down, anyway, enjoy)

Anakin x Sick (fem) Reader Headcanons:

Gif from @swprequels

The minute you get sick, you immediately shut yourself into your room and hide from the world.

You hate people seeing you at your worst, most vulnerable state. So weak, and needy, and messy and in pain. You’ve always been the type to push people away, no matter how sick you get, because you just can’t let them see you like that.

But like.... imagine you’re new to the temple or something. You haven’t been there for very long, and you still don’t really know your way around. And you wake up at night with the worst stomach pains, like writhing around in bed and crying and begging higher powers for any kind of relief sort of pain.

And you somehow manage to wrench yourself onto shaking legs and dig through the bathroom cabinet, only to find that you have no medicine that can help you.

The next logical step is you go to the medbay, but you have no idea where that even is. And so you’re left to drag yourself down the halls to the only other person who you can think of to help you, the only other other person you want to see right now.

Anakin opens the door shirtless, rubbing sleep out of his bleary eyes. You wish you could feel worse for waking him up when he was obviously sleeping, but your stomach is twisting and turning and a layer of cold sweat is forming over you and you need his help. So you swallow your pride and stand there as he asks, “Y/n? What’s wrong, baby?”

He doesn’t hesitate as he gently ushers you into his room, holding you up as he leads you to the bed. You’re glad, because you don’t think your legs can hold you up for very much longer. And he’s kneeling in front of you, taking your face in his hands and wiping away your tears as you clutch at your stomach and tremble beneath him.

“I-I don’t feel good,” is all you can manage before wincing at a particularly painful stab, shuttering as the nausea worsens.

He’s so worried, eyes scanning over every inch of you. He’s less soft now, and more action as protecting you and figuring out what’s wrong is his first priority.

“What hurts?”

Everything hurts, but you settle with the most pressing offender. “My stomach.”

His eyes drop to your arms, which are wound around your middle like you could squeeze the pain away. You’re hunched over, shivering violetently, skin pale in the darkness. Very obviously sick, although now he has to decide whether it’s bad enough where it warrants a visit to the medbay. His heart twists painfully.

“When did it start?”

“A couple hours ago.”

“Did you eat something?”

He’s rubbing his thumb along your cheek, capturing each cold tear as they’re occasionally squeezed out of your eye.

“Not that I know of,” you whisper. “I had the same as everyone else.”

“Okay,” he says after a moment, then stands. He keeps one hand gently cradling your face as he reaches behind you and pulls the blankets back. “You wanna lie down?”

You want to say yes, but suddenly you’re hit with a particularly excruciating twist of the stomach, and you know it wouldn’t be a good idea. If you move even slightly, you’re pretty certain you’ll be spilling your dinner all over the floor. The thought has you moaning slightly, curled even further into yourself, shaking your head. “Can’t.”

“Alright. That’s okay. Do you think you’re gonna be sick?”

A terrible wave of embarrassment washes over you, but you force yourself to nod.

Anakin doesn’t even have to ask to know that you won’t be able to make it the bathroom. He wouldn’t want to subject that to you anyway, knelt on the cold tile floor before the toilet. No, he wants you to be as comfortable as possible.

So he takes his garbage can and makes sure it’s clean before setting it on the floor or in front of you, in case you need it quickly. You’re hanging your head, sweating and shivering and whimpering every so often as the pain builds and builds and washes over you in waves.

“It’s okay,” Anakin sits beside you, hand rubbing your back in grounding circles. “Focus on your breathing. It’ll pass soon.”

You stay there with him like that for a long while. At one point, you’re begging him for some pain meds, or anything that can take the pain away, but he has to refuse because you’re just going to throw them up anyway. He feels awful saying no, because you begin to cry again and lean forward.

He senses it right before it happens. With lightning reflexes, he snatches the bin off the ground and holds it under you just as you begin to get violently sick.

It’s not pretty, and that thought is knocking at the back of your mind as you clutch onto the rim of the bin, emptying your stomach over and over and over, barely able to catch a breath before you’re hit with another round.

Anakin sits right next to you through it all, dragging his fingers along the nape of your neck to gather your hair over one shoulder, rubbing soothing line and circles into your back, hushing you and telling you to let it out, that you’ll feel better once it’s over.

He’s right about that. Throwing up scares you, and you hate it with everything in you, but for the time being you feel a little better. Once your food stops forcing its way back up and you can finally breathe, there’s a moment where the awful stabbing pain in your stomach is quiet and you can open your eyes and lift your head.

“You think you’re done?”

You take a moment to assess your nausea, not wanting to be hit with a surprise attack and make a mess all over the floor. But for the time being, your stomach has settled and now you’re left as a trembling, weak, shell of a human, barely able to sit upright on your own.

You nod and wipe your mouth, disgusted with the contents now on the back of your hand. Your pajamas have been soaked in sweat, and you’re sure you look absolutely disgusting. You’re too weak to care a whole lot, but the shame still bubbles up in your chest.

Somehow he’s got a glass of water, and he’s handing it to you so you can swish and spit. “Small sips, angel.”

Anakin sets the bin down, running his hand over your hair once more before standing. The loss of his warm presence has you shivering violently, teeth clacking together. “You want a bath? Or do you just want to go to bed?”

You don’t think you’d be able to sleep with your clothes stocking to you like this, so you choose the bath. He kisses your forehead once, saying, “I’ll go run it now. Stay here in case you get sick again.”

You nod and he leaves, the sounds of the faucet turning and water splashing into the bath sounding from the bathroom. He comes back to help you up, hands fitting right onto your disgusting sweaty and vomitty body as he half carries you to the bathroom.

And then he helps you get undressed, lowers you carefully into the water, kneels by the side of the tub and holds your hand.

Your eyes are closed and your head is pounding, achey and queasy and tired. You know you have to wash up, but you can’t seem to lift your arms.

So he does it for you 🥺

Squeezing some shampoo into his palm, gently rubbing it into your hair, using his hand to shield your face as he carefully washes it out. Running his hands over your arms and the top of you chest with soap, lathering you up and then rinsing again. And then he’s squeezing water out of a cloth, running the damp material over your face to clean it of sweat and sick.

And when he’s done, he stands and promises to be right back as he takes the bin full of vomit to the communal bathrooms, dumping it out in the toilet and then washing it in the showers. It’s early hours of the morning so no one is there, but he’d do it even if people were looking at him like he was crazy. 🥺

And when he comes back, he helps you out of the bath and bundles you up in a big fluffy towel. Runs it over your skin and dries you up, and helps you stand as you request to brush your teeth.

And then he brings you back into the room and helps you dress in some of his clothes, a pair of his sleep pants that he has to tie the string extra tight so they’ll stay up, and roll the cuffs up to your ankle about 10 times until you can walk without tripping. And he’s also got some sleep shirts that he’s never worn, and you swim in that also so he rolls up the sleeves until you can see your hands.

And now all you want to do is fall back into his pillows and go to sleep, but he asks you to hold on a while longer so that he can get you some meds. And he has you take some pills, encourages you to drink some more water, (“slow, baby”), and then he helps you lie back and get comfortable.

And if you wake up later in the night to get sick again, he’s waking up right along with you, holding you and hushing you and being the sweetest person you could ever ask for.

In instances like this, you can’t help but need and accept his help. And he doesn’t mind giving it, in fact he wants you to come to him. Anything that brings you pain, he’ll destroy.

And he’ll make sure you eat as much as you can, and that you’re drinking water. Constantly asking you how you feel, if there’s anything he can do. Runs a cold cloth over your face to soothe the fever, and massages your aching muscles until you’re all better.

The voice he uses when you’re sick 🥺. He knows that any noise can hurt your head, so he lowers his voice and it’s so smooth and deep and rumbly. So soft and gentle 😭 the sweetest voice bc his baby is in pain and he just wants to take it all away 🥺🥺

In other cases where you’re sick, like you have a cold, you’re more stubborn. You shut yourself away as soon as you get the first symptoms, denying any hint that you might be getting sick, until suddenly he realizes he hasn’t seen you in days and stops by to find you buried under covers, surrounded by tissues, all lights off in your apartment, sleeping fitfully.

And so he’ll sigh a little, clean up your apartment and then sit and watch over you. When you wake up, you’ll groan and burrow deeper into the covers and demand he leave. But he’ll just tell you to be quiet and drink this water.

Demands you tell him the moment you feel sick next time, even though he knows you never will. And then when he gets you some medicine and food, your cheeks are red with embarrassment and fever as you bashfully accept them.

But ofc you’ll get over it soon because Anakin’s here now and you might as well be miserable in his arms. So you push the covers off your overheating body and reach across the bed for him, practically falling into his lap from where he’s sitting on a chair by your bedside.

And he just simply catches you and strokes your hair and hushes you as you bury your wet eyes and flushed cheeks into his chest, sniffling pathetically.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he’ll promise, and hold you in his warm arms and rock you until you fall asleep.

Getting sick on Republic Cruisers is the worst. When that happens, you’re either on your way to or back from war. And so usually people are busy and running around, or exhausted and beat up. The ship is cold and everyone has their own problems to worry about, but you feel like ass and you just want to be alone with Anakin.

He feels awful when he sees you, and will order everyone out of the pilot’s room. And then he’ll clear the passenger seat off, urge you to sit down, wrap you up in as many blankets as he can find, and when he can only find a couple, he’ll sacrifice his Jedi robe. And you’ll nuzzle deep down into the cacoon of blankets and inhale the scent of Anakin’s robe, fall in and out of consciousness as you’re lulled to sleep by the soft sounds of the ship.

Anakin wishes there was more he could do for you in these instances, but the food isn’t good and there’s not usually any medicine. So he’ll keep a hand on your knee, or let you hold his hand in your lap as you sleep, and he’ll send a little surge of peace and soothing energy through the force and into you.

Will 100% find an excuse to carry you off the ship when you land, and then spend the rest of the day lying with you and tending to you and trying to make you feel better 🥺

He’s so caring and so protective and sweet. His gentle side really comes out, because his #1 thing is that he needs the people he loves to be safe, so if an illness is hurting you he will do anything he can to take the pain away.

Yes, he can’t take care of himself sometimes. But the minute you’re feeling a little under the weather, suddenly he has a PHD in medical science and he’s nursing you back to health like an expert 🥺

Also he’ll never deny you kisses when you’re sick, even if you warn him he might catch it, he just hushes you and kisses you softly on the lips. Then on the chin, then the nose, then the forehead.

Will always brush off your inability to accept help. If you say “no” or “leave me alone” or “I’m fine go away” he’ll just roll his eyes and plant himself there. Bc no matter how stubborn you can be, he’s even more.

And when you keep apologizing, obviously feeling awful for having him take care of you, he’ll just hush your worries and hold a tissue to your nose and go “blow.”

And then he’ll stay with you and watch over you until you’re all better. And even when you get back into the swing of things, he’ll watch over you like a hawk while you’re recovering 🥺🥺

You might get shy and ashamed and embarrassed when he tries to help you, but he doesn’t mind. You’ll just have to come to accept the fact that he’s always going to be there for you, to help you and hold you and make you all better ❤️

Sweet boy is so good to you 🥺🥺🥰

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Note

Okay but vamp!harry x reader where the reader goes for a late night walk alone because she’s feeling anxious (Harry tries to insist on coming with but she says no) but soon he can sense somethings wrong and goes to look for her and finds her in a dangerous situation! I need protective vampire Harry 🥺

Disclaimer: Reader with ADHD, Vampire!H x fem!reader, cock warming.

Harry's been doing humanly things. Moreso trying for his little human whom he doesn't want to dissapoint when she's making ećlairs or pop tarts for him and all he knows is to eat them despite of being a helping hand. His fingers are magical —--- they relax her in the most livid way while he's feeding from her. Honestly, it's all she wants. Her making sweets for him and him pleasuring her in the most bizarre way.

But. Sometimes she get's emotionally exhausted that the physical activities looks like breaking a mountain for her and all she does is snuggle under the snoozy layers of her childhood blankets cuddling her cat to calm her down.

Now her tranquility is Harry.

It's one of those days. She's been feeling like a failure. An utter dimwit for not getting what's happening in her sociology class, why her neighbours are always grumpy with her and why she isn't able to study anything. It's depressing her.

Harry never left her side. She's like a honey gooed all over him not even letting him bring the pizzas he ordered for them, "Don't!" She squeaks in a weak voice catching his wrists and he sits back cupping the nape of her neck looking straight in her eyes to assure her with his whole existence, "'ey baby . . my sweet girl 'm not goin' anywhere. Delivery boy's been waiting outside -- just a mo', yeah?" He sponges a gentle kiss at her temple stroking her cheek to calm her down.

They've rented a VR receiver and alot of silver movies watching them while eating pizza. She giggles and Harry smiles goofily when he had to hit the receiver twice to make it work, "c'mon you should know how all of this work old man." He strides towards her pulling her up with armpits into his embrace and tickling hard.

"Old man huh!? Ol' ma —" He pretends to eat her whole and she squeals between her laughs, "'m sorry you're my man!" Huffs smugly giving her a breather and pecks her not twice but thrice. If he could kiss her all day. He would. She's his human. It surprises him sometimes when he's alone with his thoughts. He loves her to fucking bits and pieces.

When she's like this everyone and everything feels outta her reach. As if they're miles away from her and she's standing in barren cold. In the amidst of sappy movie she shrinks closer to him stuffing her face into his ribs wounding her leg around his abdomen and he makes her feel warm wrapping his arms around her to push her up on his thigh. Snapping his gaze down at her when the lil sniffs of her reached his ears, "What's wrong kitten . . . hurts to see ya like this baby. Love you so much." He never fails to promise that he loves her to core.

"'M jus . . . thinking tha –-- that when I'll die you'll be still here 'n . . . 'n y'would get so lonely." She hiccups without a break, "Dunno. Can't stop crying 'm sorry." She gives out an ugly sob into his chest. It's breaking his already feeble heart. God he could scream the affection to the moon he have for this girl. In such a tragic moment all she is thinking is about him.

He cups squishes both her cheeks with his calloused palms telling her to breath with slow gestures then when she's way better speaks in his softest voice, "My baby listen to me hmm? We're never thinking of future don't wan'ye to wreck ye'r beautiful brain for stupid deaths --- secondly too bad miss Y/N 'm gonna cling to ye like leech of your nightmares." He wipes her tears away ever so caringly and gives her eskimo kisses while she giggles snorting at the end when Harry brought his big goldfish orbs in the middle to make her laugh.

"'M glad to have you." She whispers smudging her wet lips softly against his's into a heart melting blood warming kiss and Harry shushes her when she whines clutching the hem of his sweater, "bite me? She asks politely rather than being batty as for she was being within past days rilling him upto extreme to get her neck and skin sprinkled with hickeys that turns into bites.

"Don't wanna hurt ye', lovie." He pushes her hair away peering down at her with pleading worried eyes, "you wouldn't. promise." He nods flushing her against his chest positioning her head into the crook of his neck. Making her hug him like a koala bear.

Rubs her back. Pats her hair. Sways her along him rather than the seductive warnings he used to give her. He's afraid. She's too fragile at the moment. He'd never forgive himself if something will happen to her, "'m gonna bite. Stop me if ye' don't want it o' hurts." He runs his palms at her sides making her all squirmy.

He pushes her fangs ever so gently to her sweet spot. If she's made of glass making her moan and tight her grip around him warming up his cock in his trousers. It's not always about you dumber. He scolds himself. Suckling lightly and pulling back in a pinch of moment. It's the first time he has almost pretended to drink from her. She's all sleepy in his hold. He carries her to bed and when tries to untangle himself so he could turn the telly off she whines not letting him.

Despite of these much blankets she's still feeling cold. From inside. It feels empty and she isn't liking it at all. Writhes and squirms causing Harry to ask, "ye okay there lovie'?" When she shakes her head with glassy eyes and a pout he understands.

"Cold." Is all she had to say and he's guessing the next, "in ye'r tummy?" When she bobs her head confirming he sighs softly pulling the elastic of his trousers down to free his dick getting rid of the item woving his calves with her, thighs between thighs and places a firm hand on her back moving his thumb into circles non-stop.

"Oh me lil dovlin' c'mere . . want me cock to warm ye up baby? 'S okay s' okay darlin'." He murmurs against her lips tugging at his foreskin hissing when the head of his thick cock gets pushed between their bellys due to approximty. Precome oozes from his strokes and he takes her panties off swiping his crown over her hole to lubricate her. Wounds his arm around the nape of her neck to lap at her mouth swallowing her whines and cries while sliding inside her compact walls twisting his stomach awfully, "shhh. shhh baby love. I got ya. Gonna take care of ye ---- try to sleep. I'll be waiting fo' ye in the morning." Once, situating himself deep and snug inside her. He keeps on embracing her like a little baby.

Next morning though she woke up happy. Harry made her brekkie. Special smiley pancakes with heart shaped eyes from the little strawberry toppings. He really took advantage of his time while she was snoring her ass off. A peach smoothie and cashewnuts. Fed Meowsie. Gave her his morning lovin'. They had the meal together.

He helped her learn some of her course. Then in afternoon made lunch together egg fried rice and stirred vegetables Y/N went to give some of it to their neighbours. Lady Nat asked her if she's okay cause she has stopped stomping in her flat and it made her feel good, weirdly.

Maybe it's seasonal sadness that she couldn't get out of it. Harry's in the kitchen cleaning up shelves when he hears the rustle of carpet. He peeks from the wall to find her pooling into a big hoodie and slipping into her shoes. He frowns throwing the rag away to walk towards her immediately, "where ye' goin' lovie? Ye' okay what happened?" He runs his hands over her shoulders to her hair making her meet his eyes.

She nods squeezing his wrists, "don't worry just wanna . . . take a walk — clear my head." Hearing this he quickly moves to wear his jacket.

"'M goin' with you." He declares and she knows if that'll happen she wouldn't be able to, "No. Alone." She fumbles with the strings of her hoodie. He sighs not fond of the idea brows knighting together thumbing at her jaw with concern screaming in his eyes.

"Can I mark you then?" He asks knowing what hides in the shadows of outside; creatures evil than his entire existence. He doesn't want to make her feel like she owes him explanations for her each and every movement but gosh does it scare him to his bones. She's the only person who could make him weak into knees and a mesh of puddle at the thought of even the thorn pricking her, "okie." She cranes her neck and it still amuses him she's exactly how she was when he first met her. That gentle rose under the moon meant for Harry to care and water with love.

After adorning her with a crimson mark and little peck he tugs her closer hooking his nose to her hair taking a good sniff of her cocoa scent, "keep your phone in ye' hand and don't walk through the cherry street." There's nothing there but stray dogs that she's afraid of. It's better he advises her.

"Ai. Ai captain!" She salutes him stomping her feet and he chuckles kissing her cheek wet-ly, "Go before I change me mind."

He wanted it not to creep it to his mind but it's not helping AT ALL. He's been restless and it's been fifteen minutes since she has left. He's sitting sunk into sofa with Meowsie snuggled under his chin while he shakes his knees, cracks his knuckles, combs his hair and groans into his palms. In short throwing tantrum like a toddler missing her already and constantly worrying about her. Something doesn't feel right at all. That gut wrenching horror of losing her biting him alive.

He mutters a fuck it going to look for her and bring her back home. He was right. He has always been. Good at instincts. For fuck's sake. He's a vampire!

Y/N was walking along the path which's the lead way to a park when a dark vibe gloomed over her head. The next she knows is she's being pinned to a wall with demonic eyes snatching at her soul: it takes her breath away outta horror.

"No wonder why Harry kisses the earth you walk on." He chuckles darkly accent an old Scottish and she gulps eyes stinging with tears, "I would to . . if I get to drink such sweet ripe blood." Her eyes widens when his fangs pokes out from his gums glistening under the lamp light.

She tries to kick him in balls to get rid of his painful grip when an angry growl echoes towards them loudly and the person who had her trapped wooshes from her sight in a bolt to ground making her shriek.

"She's not a fuckin' feeder stay the fuck away from her!!" Harry grits spitting venom. Choking the person under him, "tol' ya she's my girl and I'll shred everyone alive if they'll even breath in her direction." She has never seen him this furious. Tone harsh and snappy she never heard coming from him it makes her cry.

He had warned his fellows when the news of him spread that he has bonded to human. But well they've thick skulls.

The man under him just smirks pushing him away and coughing into his elbow standing up. "Whatever thought sharing is caring, Styles." Harry glares him resentfully. Fisting a punch at his side but stables himself when a dainty hand wraps around his fingers clutching tight.

He turns ducking down to her level cupping her cheeks and tries to examine her for any kind of injury, "ye' okay? Did he hurt you? Tell me and — " she rubs her nose with the sleeve of her hoodie shaking her head vigorously.

"No. 'M fine sorry should've listened to you." He puffs out a breath of guilt letting his forehead fall against her's, "don't be sorry -- it's none of ye'r fault baby."

"Glad you're safe." He whispers hugging her with the sway of bodies, "I love you." She tells him honestly tip-toeing to kiss him and it unfortunately reaches his silky jaw only.

"And all the things you do for me." He grins down at her. He lives on praises. The cheeky bastard.

"How about eatin' ice-cream while taking swings in the park?" He intertwines their hands warmly kissing her knuckles and she quips excitedly, "sounds great!"

AN: idk why read more button isn't working sorry for the bug.

#harry styles smut #anon request #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurb #harry angst #dom harry #harry styles vampire smut #vamp!h #vampire harry

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thesightstoshowyou · 3 years

Note

Last one then I'll leave you alone, I promise 😁

3, 5, 13, 28, 30, 33, 34, 37, 38, 43, 54, 65, 70, 71, 75, 79, 82, 93, 95, 97, 99 and 100 with pennywise and/or bob grey

Sorry that was a lot😁

Lmao. I laugh every time I look at this request.

Alright then. *Cracks knuckles* I accept your challenge. I ended up changing just a few words here and there to make the quotes fit Bob a little better, but most of them were left as they are.

Follow-up to this

F Reader (NSFW)

Warnings: Dubcon, creepy elements, degradation, choking, drool, fingering, oral, daddy kink, hair pulling, biting, blood, creampie

The yawning mouth of the funhouse stares ominously back at you. A chilly breeze blows at your back, brushing your hair over your shoulders, nearly pushing you forward. It’s as though the maw is inhaling, trying to suck you in.

“Let’s go!” your friends shout, shoving you toward the entrance. You tag along, squashing down the unease prickling on the back of your neck. It’s a cheap, shitty funhouse. It’s fine, calm down.

The mouth spins when you enter, disorienting you, making you stumble. Your friends laugh and hurry through the obstacle course of swinging, neon clowns. You screech at them to wait up as you dodge the nearest grinning face, but their laughter already grows distant.

When you step into the mirror maze, all sound vanishes. It’s deathly silent, and the prickling trepidation returns full force. The lights above flicker at random intervals and you must blink your eyes several times so they can adjust to the cold, intermittent light.

After you run smack dab into a plexiglass sheet, you move slower and hold your hands out in front of you, calling your friends’ names as you go. Intently, you listen, but there’s nothing, no sound, no laughter, no funhouse music. Only your feverish panting reaches your ears. Everywhere you look is only you, a hundred wide-eyed, sweating reiterations of your face.

“You guys, this isn’t—

You round a corner and crash into a solid chest. Your gaze travels up, up, until it passes over full, wet lips and falls on mischievous blue. You blink, not believing what you’re seeing until huge hands encircle your arms and squeeze.

“Bob!” you breathe. So, he is real. You really hadn’t imagined that strange night in the dilapidated Neibolt house. He’s tangible, warm under your palms, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths.

“You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in here until you walked in. Tasty slut,” he growls in response, that odd, warbly voice bringing you right back to that terrifying night a few weeks ago. You’re so shocked you don’t think to protest until he has you backed against a mirror.

“Uh, um, I-my friends, I need—

“Um, um, um, um,” he mocks, gripping your jaw and cackling in your face, “Don’t you want to play with me?” He pouts, wiggling your head back and forth. His other hand travels lower, cups your cunt through your pants. You gasp and weakly push against his chest as desperate heat burns through your gut at the contact. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about him daily since that night.

Bob chuckles low in his throat, “That tickles.” His huge hand finds your throat, shoves you hard against the mirror behind you. He looms over you and a twinge of fear wraps itself around your spine when you realize how completely powerless you are. You can do nothing but comply.

As though he can read your thoughts, he grins, drool spilling over his lips and down his chin to patter onto the front of your shirt. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, “Show me that pretty fear.” Bob clenches his fist, cuts off your air and your eyes go wide, your mouth falling open in a silent plea. Your eyes dart around, but there’s only Bob and you reflected from every angle. You’re alone, well and truly alone with him.

The fear grows, crawls down your throat, jumpstarts your heart, takes hold of your limbs until you’re thrashing, but it’s useless. His strength is almost inhuman. The helplessness is horrifying.

A groan chokes from your constricted throat when he reaches spidery fingers into your pants. When they dip into your folds and find you dripping, he titters and whispers, “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you? Hmm? Yes, you are, don’t lie to Pennywise.” You gasp, cough, suck in a huge breath of air when he releases your throat.

Pennywise?

Your thoughts derail when long digits sink into you, curl, make you writhe when sticky warmth erupts in your belly. Bob’s teasing, “Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic,” only adds to the desire jolting through you.

All too soon, the fingers leave you and you groan at their absence. Instead, he grips the waistband of your pants, tugs the fabric down your legs until one of your limbs is freed enough that your thighs can be pushed apart. Bob kneels, throws one of your legs over his shoulder and noisily inhales the scent of your dripping cunt. Embarrassed heat crawls up your neck and you must look away when he sighs in appreciation.

“You look good all soaking wet. Needy, needy little cunt, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy,” you moan, shocked by the words that spill past your lips. Bob moans, dives in and laves a long tongue across your waiting wetness. The slurping sounds he makes when he sucks on your clit are obscene, but you mewl sweetly in return, hips rolling against his tongue, hands scrabbling for purchase on the chilly mirror behind you.

“Look at you, grinding against everything. You’re really desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“B-Bob, p-please, oh-oh—

You can’t finish your sentence when he sucks you back into his mouth, the sloppy, wet sounds bouncing off the mirrors and plexiglass sounding so loud in the silent maze. One of your hands finds his hair; it’s soft under your fingers when you grip the brown locks and grind into his mouth.

“Yes, that’s it, dumb cunt, just like that. It’s okay, slut, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while I’m between your legs,” he murmurs against your slippery flesh. Then, as suddenly as he started, he pulls away, stands, twists you around, and smashes your cheek into the glass.

“Touch yourself for me. That’s right, do it, whore. Debase yourself.” You’re too far gone to protest, too lost in need and Bob’s menacing presence. Your fingers roll over clit, your breath fogging up the glass when you release a shaky exhale.

Your eyes widen minutely when you meet your own gaze in the mirror. You’re a wreck; mascara smudged, sweat beading along your brow, pupils blown wide, mouth hanging open. Jesus, what will your friends think if they find you….

When a moan slips off your tongue, Bob growls, “I love the sounds you make when you come undone. Come undone for. Me. If you keep making those sounds, I’m not going to be able to stop myself.” He chuckles at that, as though the very idea of controlling his urges is comical.

The drag of a zipper reaches your ears and a little spike up wanton fear pulses within you. Bob laughs in your ear, presses his thick cock to your messy entrance, whispers, “I’m gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, needy whore, yes, I am. I want you to see how pretty you look when you’re spreading your legs for me. Did you lock the door when you came in? I think you forgot, stupid thing, forgot to lock the door. That means anyone could walk right in and see you like this, but that’s too bad, too bad little girl. I need you. Now!”

You’re confused by his words. What door? You’re given no time to think when he surges forward, burying his enormous cock too deep, too quick. You scream, claw at the mirror, pleadingly meet his wild, gold gaze—wait, gold again—in the mirror. You’d beg him to slow down, be gentle, but it’d be just as pointless as your struggle.

Tears stream down your face when his hips slam into you so hard the glass shakes under your palms. Bob coos in mock sympathy, groans in your ear, “You know, you look real pretty when you cry. You know that, hmm? Of course not, silly girl. No one fucks you like I do, do they?

Deliriously, you shake your head, your screams morphing, transitioning into garbled versions of his name. Bob nods, grips your hair, nods your head with him, sings, “Yes, good slut, perfect slut.” He enunciates the ‘T’s,’ the sounds so sharp you can feel them popping behind your ribs, “Say my name over and over again, and, once you think you’ve said it loud enough, scream. IT. I want the whole neighborhood to know who’s making you feel good. These walls are pretty thick, you and I can be as loud as we want.”

Your fingers leave your clit and fly to the mirror. You need another hand to brace yourself, to keep Bob from pounding you completely through the glass. He hisses, tugs your hair until your neck is bared and you can’t see yourself in the mirror, murmurs against your flesh, “Did I say you could stop, cunt?”

“P-Please, I-I’m sorry, please pull my hair, please fuck me, h-hurt me!” You have no idea what you’re saying, needy words tumbling from your mouth of their own accord. Bob laughs, high and loud. The grating sound bounces off the mirrors, worms its way into your skull, makes you wince.

You scream when sharp, needle points sink into your neck, burning pain tearing through your neck. You try to rip your hair out of his iron grip to look in the mirror, but Bob holds you too tightly. Belatedly, you realize he’s biting you when he moans against your skin and wet warmth trickles down your chest, but you’ve never felt teeth like this before.

Bob tilts his hips, assaults your fluttering, sensitive walls with every inch of that unforgiving cock until you’re screaming and begging all at once. Climax washes over you like a rogue wave, twists your insides, sweeps away the pain until you’re sobbing your thanks, “Th-Thank you, Daddy, t-thank—

“How do you feel about adding another person to the mix?” He interrupts you with a giggle, tongue lapping at the blood pooling in your collarbone. Breathless, numb, you frown in confusion, wondering what the hell he’s talking about now. The hand in your hair retreats and your head tips forward, but what you see in the mirror has your mouth falling open in shock.

Bob is no longer behind you. Instead, there stands a…clown; face painted white, a shock of orange hair sticking out wildly from the top of his head, crimson lines streaking down from his eyes to his full lips, your blood dripping from his chin. He bucks his hips and you choke on an inhale, the movement jarring you out of your stunned silence.

A white, gloved hand claps over your mouth to quiet your frantic scream. The clown viciously pistons his hips, the bells of his dingy costume jingling as he cackles wildly at your panicked expression in the mirror.

“What’s the matter, missy? You don’t like Bobby’s new make-up?” Startled by his words and his weird, warbly voice, you meet the clown’s jaundiced gaze in the mirror. You mind races, confused questions and icy fear flicking through your mind just like the flashing lights above you.

The clown inhales deeply, a cruel smirk pulling at the corners of his ruby lips. “You’re such a sweet, sweet treat for Pennywise. Think I’ll keep you here, keep you all to myself. My own, personal slut. Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you. Now, be a good girl and let me paint that tight little cunt.”

His hand slides to your cheek, squashes your face against the mirror once more. You shriek and clench your eyes shut as he jackhammers you into the glass. A few more thrusts and he’s grunting, growling, hilting himself and spilling warmth deep in your guts.

Once the erratic jerking of his hips finally subsides, you risk a look. Tentatively, you peel your lids apart. Behind you, the clown still stands. In his hand is—

“Balloon? For being such a good pet.”

#bob gray x reader #bob gray #robert gray x reader #robert gray #pennywise x reader #pennywise the dancing clown #it movie #it 2017 #it 2019 #it chapter 2 #n sfw #writing prompts #thank you for the ask

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shinsoukokuvalentine · 3 years

Text

What the Water Gave Us

Hi all! Time for a fic! This one was part of a zine and can also be found on Ao3. Warning for graphic depictions of violence.

The screaming. The screaming wakes him, shrill and agonized.

Ryuunosuke’s eyes shoot open, and in one swift motion, he jerks upright in bed and tosses his thin sheet to the side, chest shaking as if he had just experienced a nightmare.

But the nightmare’s claws remain deep in his mind, for he can still hear the screaming. It cries out again, very real and very loud, echoing from the cove. It almost seems to call to him, and shivers travel down Ryuu’s spine every time it splits the night. He’s never heard someone scream like that.

Swiftly reaching into his nearby chest, Ryuu grabs his clothes before even making it completely out of bed. He rushes through his motions, the screams piercing his ears, hurrying him as he throws on his trousers and boots.

The bright moon guides his path. He runs out the door of the mill, plain and modest, leaning a bit in its old age. He runs down the trail, through the thick pine forest, nightingales ceasing their calls in fright as he darts past their trees. He runs, and the screams grow louder, drawing him closer.

He reaches the cove as his heart, pounding in his ears, nearly drowns out those screams. Squinting, he looks down to the small, rocky beach, encircled by high cliffs. With the moon’s aid, he can barely see a figure writhing in the sand.

Ryuu wastes no time in running down the stairs carved into the cliffside. The screams compel him, even in their wild dissonance, begging for him, pleading for him.

Soon Ryuu can only see the figure. He has eyes for nothing else, charging straight towards the hurting man, the glass-shattering cries. He feels ready to give his life for-!

He stops. The illusion breaks as the man’s struggles slow and his screams die down. His voice quiets, dropping the spell, trading his cries for dry rasps and gurgles as he coughs up blood.

And Ryuu’s once-enraptured gaze quickly becomes one of pure malice.

“You,” he snarls.

The siren stares up at him with its mouth hanging open and its body convulsing. Ryuu instantly sees the source of its pain: a harpoon embedded deep in its side, fresh blood still flowing from the wound, turning the sand dark and wet beneath it. The siren’s scaled tail lashes, glittering like hundreds of opals, and its wide eyes stay fixated on Ryuu, deep purple and vibrant gold. It gasps for air. Ryuu scowls.

“You picked the wrong man to come to your rescue,” he snaps. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t wait here and watch you die.”

The siren only stares, twitches. It whimpers, possibly the only noise it can make, a far cry from its seductive song or its calls for aid. Ryuu scoffs.

“You’re pathetic,” he says. “Your song has haunted my dreams for months, and this is how you choose to show your face again?”

Its wide eyes reflect the moon, its choppy hair shines in the silver light. And it stares. It wheezes, it trembles, blood drips out of the corner of its pink lips, and it stares.

With a growl, Ryuu reaches down, scooping the monster into his arms in one motion.

“I swore to kill you, siren,” he snaps. “Not some fool with a harpoon.”

The siren’s eyes close as Ryuu carries it home, harpoon and all, holding it close even as its blood begins to stain his clothes. Its tail drags on the ground as he walks.

When they first met, Atsushi hadn’t eaten a human in moons.

His stomach growled as he stared up at the ship from the ocean floor. The bland taste of the fish in his hands still lingered on his tongue, its blood dissipating into the water around him, its dull scent unappealing even in his hunger.

Flashing lights to his right drew his eye, and floating there, Dazai raised one eyebrow.

“If you hate it that much, why keep eating it?” He asked, the bioluminescent stripes along his tail lighting up in patterns so he could “speak” underwater. Atsushi’s shoulders sagged a small bit, relaxing at the familiar presence, sinking deeper in shame.

“Because I don’t have to promise it anything to catch it,” he flashed back, dim lights flickering among his scales, an aquatic equivalent to mumbling. “Have you ever considered how bad that sounds? Seducing someone just to kill and eat them?”

Dazai, ignoring him, swam closer. His dark hair flowed around his face as he moved past Atsushi, and he looked at the ship above with growing hunger in his eyes, his scales lighting up to say, “I wonder how many humans it holds.”

Atsushi shrugged, continuing to nibble on his fish. It tasted like coral and sand ground into a paste.

“Wanna look with me?”

Dazai’s lights drew Atsushi’s attention once again. He stared at him, at the eager but cunning glint in his smirk, the way his tail wagged slightly. And Atsushi sighed, the gills on his neck ruffling.

“Just one look,” he flashed back. Dazai grinned and darted upwards, with Atsushi following in his wake. He left his half-eaten fish behind.

Their heads only barely broke the surface. The ship’s hull creaked as they looked up from its side, careful to stay in the shadow cast by the sails. Dazai’s eyes immediately resembled angelfish; large, bright, and flashing like diamonds.

“Atsushi,” he whispered, staring straight at the ship. “Those flags.”

Following his gaze, Atsushi saw them too; black flags, marked with a skull and crossbones.

“Pirates,” he breathed. Dazai nodded, but his following smile almost appeared giddy.

“Do you know what this means, Atsushi?”

Atsushi only stared forward. He watched the men on the ship, those he could see, scrambling back and forth like rats. Even with sea salt filling the air, he could still catch their scent when he opened his mouth.

“With the pirates around, less ships have been coming to the island,” Dazai said. Atsushi could see him from the corner of his eye, looking back and forth between him and the ship. “Less ships, less humans, less food.”

Atsushi closed his mouth when it began to water. Despite the fish in his stomach, it still growled when he began to imagine biting into a human again, its blood dripping down his chin, its bones crunching in his jaws.

He clenched his fists as if that could silence those thoughts.

“We wreck this ship,” Dazai murmured, “the humans - the food - will come back.”

Atsushi shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He could still smell them.

“We don’t have to eat humans,” he stammered. His body quaked when he heard Dazai’s low chuckle.

“Oh, but Atsushi,” he said, “you really want to.”

Atsushi’s eyes snapped open, his gaze whipped upwards to the ship again, and he breathed in their scent. His stomach growled again, louder.

“When was the last time you used your song?” Dazai asked. Sympathy oozed from his words as he cooed, “When was the last time you tasted human meat?”

Atsushi said nothing, eyes darting from man to man, as if tearing his gaze away from one would make him less hungry for the next.

“Why fight your instincts?”

Suddenly Atsushi’s eyes stopped. They stared, fixated on one man, unwavering. The man stared back.

He looked over the prow of the ship at the sirens. His mouth hung open, his white shirt billowed in the wind like sails. His gray eyes, like storms over the ocean, bored into Atsushi while his black hair danced around his face. They seemed to stare at each other for moons.

Then the pirate screamed.

“SIRENS!” Rang his warning cry. Atsushi’s song filled the air before the pirate even finished.

The next few minutes happened in a blur, whirling past Atsushi’s head in a song-filled bloodbath. He only remembered Dazai joining his melody, lending his voice, causing men to tumble into the sea as if begging to be devoured. He remembered the ship crashing into the rocks, splinters flying, more men screaming. He remembered many of them dying by his fangs.

He remembered the taste of man. Sun-hardened skin squished between his teeth, hiding large, juicy muscles beneath it, their bones and organs bursting with flavor in his mouth.

But none of them were him.

When his high finally fell, like a wave building to its peak only to break, he stared at the remains of his meals. He couldn’t fathom eating so much, but he felt full for the first time in a long while.

Even so, he was hit with the realization that his prize had escaped; the man he had truly wanted, the man who had raised Atsushi’s song from his throat. He was not among the dead, the loose body parts floating in the water like shark bait. Atsushi couldn’t smell his blood.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Atsushi,” Dazai flashed his scales, beaming as he gnawed on a leftover bone, picking it clean.

But Atsushi only looked up at the surface again, watching the wreckage sink. The sky above had begun to turn dark.

His heart pounded, his stomach ached; his prize was still out there.

Their attacks increased in number. It became Atsushi’s addiction; eating whatever humans he could whenever the craving arose, although they could only satisfy him temporarily. None of them were him, and his cravings all but consumed him.

“Hello? Earth to Atsushi.”

Atsushi jumped a little when Dazai’s hand clapped onto his shoulder. The other siren grinned, rubbing his thumb on the fabric of his stolen tunic.

“We’re not here to think about him tonight, okay?” He said. “You’re relaxing if I have to force you.”

Atsushi nodded, faking a smile for him. His insides felt as if they were tearing themselves apart, collapsing inwards, but he smiled.

“And you like this place?” He asked as his eyes began to dart around. The humans walking around the port city each smelled delicious, and he had to resist opening his mouth, tasting the air for their scent. The days when he resisted eating their meat seemed years ago.

But none of them gave the pair of sirens a second glance, not when they looked completely human, even though Atsushi still wobbled on his new legs. A siren’s shapeshifting abilities could only provide the form, not the skill.

“Trust me,” Dazai said, holding onto his wrist to drag Atsushi’s tottering body alongside him. “Travelers pass through this town all the time. No one will bat an eye at this tavern.”

Atsushi’s lips flattened into a tense line, but he only nodded as Dazai pulled him into the inn. The sign above the door, reading “The Bucking Seahorse,” swung back and forth in the evening breeze.

Warm light filled the tavern, lit by a fire at the left wall and candles hanging from the balcony above. Tables sat scattered around the ground-level floor, with various townspeople and seafarers clustered around them, some laughing and grunting, others keeping quiet.

“You haven’t tasted human ale yet,” chuckled Dazai, pulling Atsushi to a table near the fireplace. “You’re in for a treat tonight, Atsushi.”

Silent, Atsushi could only nod. He let Dazai order, trying to ignore how his stomach growled, how the scent of humans filled his lungs until it nearly stifled him. When his tankard arrived, he chose to drink instead of breathe.

He couldn’t be sure how much he drank. It tasted vile at first, yet the more he downed, the better the ale tasted. It poured into his head and overpowered every feeling except a strange, warm buzz, spreading numbness from his fingers and up his limbs. It felt like drowning and breathing deeply all at once.

And for a moment, he forgot.

Then, like a bell ringing all around his head, he remembered when he smelled that scent once again.

Immediately his senses were flooded. He opened his mouth, breathing it, sure of it over the scent of alcohol and tobacco.

“What’s wrong?”

He heard Dazai’s voice, but he didn’t respond. The noises of the tavern filled his ears, loud and boisterous, growing rowdier and the night grew longer and the tankards emptied. Atsushi only stood and looked towards the door, eyes struggling to focus.

It was him. Atsushi could pick that dark hair out of a crowd, his storm-like eyes from a sea of gray.

He seemed paler than before as he walked forward, into the tavern, his hair pulled back in a small ponytail, his white-tipped bangs still hanging around his face. Eyes traveling, distaste pricked at his expression, his lips in a frown.

He bumped directly into Atsushi. Either because he hadn’t been looking where he was going, or because Atsushi’s body moved without his consent and he stepped in front of him. The man snarled.

“What do you think you’re-?!” He began to snap, immediately grabbing Atsushi’s shirt, but he stopped when he saw his face. Just like before, he stared.

Despite the ruckus of the tavern around them, everything seemed to silence. Atsushi could finally see his face up close, with his fair skin and pale, thin lips. Atsushi’s lungs held his breath captive.

Then the man’s features darkened. His brow furrowed, his lips turned downwards in a deep scowl, and hatred like Atsushi had never seen flared in his eyes.

“You,” he snarled like a wild dog.

Atsushi’s hands seemed to move on their own. They settled on the man’s cheeks, stroking them. They felt softer than sea moss.

And before the man could sputter out another word, Atsushi’s voice filled the space between them.

His mouth formed words, notes, a song spilling from him before he understood its meaning, and

the man’s eyes and body began to relax. His expression softened, almost melting in Atsushi’s hands. A smile even formed on his ever-so-slightly parted lips.

Atsushi reveled in it. He wanted him to keep smiling, to stay content in his touch, in his song. The look in his eyes almost seemed hypnotic, unfocused and turning upwards.

“Atsushi!”

Though he still sang, Atsushi turned ever so slightly to Dazai, who stared at him and grabbed onto his shoulder.

“What are you doing?!” He hissed.

Atsushi couldn’t answer without breaking his song. But as he looked back at the man’s face, to his own hands, he could see the scales forming on his skin, watched as his claws grew longer.

“Your transformation’s breaking,” Dazai snapped.

Atsushi could feel his breath hitch. His song faltered. In that split second, he saw everyone else in the tavern watching him with that same vacant look on their faces. Each of them had fallen under the spell of his song.

But he didn’t stop. If anything, his voice grew louder. He just wanted to watch his one human, watch the contentment and happiness on his face. Atsushi’s voice alone seemed to cause shudders of pleasure all throughout his body.

Atsushi’s mouth began to water again. He opened his jaws wide, fangs extending as his transformation shed off his body like dead skin. The trousers he had been wearing fell to the ground as his legs turned back into his long tail, and he leaned forward even though he struggled to stand, bringing his mouth to his human’s neck.

He jumped when the gunshot rang through the air. His voice broke, his song ending abruptly as he tore his gaze from his human and to the door where armed guards suddenly stood, guns in their hands..

“I TOLD YOU I HEARD A SIREN!” One of them shouted at the man directly beside him, wax filling their ears to block out Atsushi’s song.

Paralysis shot through Atsushi’s body like a lightning bolt. His human began to stir, Atsushi’s spell wearing off as he looked directly into the barrel of a gun.

Dazai scooped him into his arms and ran before the bullet flew through the air, bursting from the gun with a deafening bang. Atsushi covered his ears as Dazai jumped out the nearest open window, landing in the alley, tumbling to the ground.

“I can’t leave you alone for a minute, eh?” He huffed as he sprang to his feet, hurtling onto the cobblestone road. Atsushi clung to his neck like a hatchling.

People in the street began to scream, shouting and pointing at Atsushi as Dazai darted past them, Atsushi’s tail failing.

“THEY’RE RUNNING AWAY!”

Heart pounding, Atsushi looked behind them. He watched as the guards burst back out of the tavern, their boots pounding on the cobblestone street, their bullets flying past the sirens’ ears.

“We just have to make it to the ocean,” grunted Dazai, scrambling in and out of alleyways to avoid the guards’ bullets. Atsushi could only nod, panic and confusion and dizziness overwhelming his body, flooding his head. He couldn’t taste anything but ale, couldn’t smell anything but his human.

They wound around paths, the smell and roar of the ocean growing nearer, yet still too far. The world seemed to spin around Atsushi, blurring in front of his eyes.

Then he could see it. Dark, glittering in the moonlight. Dazai gave a small, strained smile before a cry of pain split the air.

Dazai stumbled. His lips turned downward in a grimace, but he still hobbled out onto a pier, gripping Atsushi to his chest. The scent of siren blood began to spill from him.

Atsushi didn’t have the chance to see where he had been shot. Before he could even ask, Dazai tottered off the pier and into the ocean.

The cold water slammed into Atsushi, petrifying him. He could only see bubbles, could only hear the roar of the ocean, could only see tinges of red in the water. His head seemed to spin in circles.

He gasped when he broke the surface, looking around frantically.

“DAZAI!” He shouted, eyes darting back and forth. Nothing rose from the water.

One glance behind himself, and he saw they had been followed. The guards ran out onto the pier, pointing their guns at the water, shouting orders to the nearby ships.

“FIRE ON THE SIRENS!”

Atsushi dove back under the surface, darting back and forth. His blurred vision trailed behind him as panic rose in his throat like bile.

“Dazai!” His scales flashed.

That had been his mistake.

Pain suddenly flared up from his side. He screamed, bubbles pouring out of his mouth. The smell of his own blood mingled with Dazai’s.

He thrashed, whipping around to the harpoon buried in his side. Instinctively, he sunk his teeth into the rope, tearing into it easily before it could pull him back to its ship.

He could hear his own heartbeat now. Blood trailed behind him. He only thought of swimming, of swimming far away from the gunshots and guards and ships.

He swam until the pain overwhelmed him. His body fell still, feeling as if fire flared from both of his harpoon wounds, piercing beneath his ribs and out of his back. Only the tide moved him as he cried out, a sound absorbed by the sea.

He only knew he had washed ashore when he could clearly hear his own screams.

He wove his song into his cries. Perhaps instinctively, perhaps desperately; he couldn’t be sure.

He couldn’t tell how much time had passed. He simply blinked, and the sky changed, the stars moved. Blackouts washed over him with the frequency of the sea, rushing over and off his body, stinging his side with every salty wave.

Atsushi’s voice slowly gave out. Rasps and choked noises replaced his screams, and his wide eyes stared upwards. Dreams began to pile on top of him, dreams of seeing his human, of hearing his voice.

He stared upwards at him. Even if this were a dream, Atsushi only wanted to see his face, to imagine him standing close once more. He gasped for air when he meant to speak to his illusion, remembering the low tones of his voice in a faroff mumble.

Everything grew dark again as warmth wrapped around Atsushi. His head rolled back, the pain overwhelming his body until it enveloped him, pulling him down into itself. But at the same time, he thought he felt himself lifting into the air, something like arms holding him tight.

If only his human would truly hold him that tenderly, thought Atsushi as he could no longer keep his eyes open. Maybe that’s all he had wanted.

Maybe if he lived, he could fix things, he mused as his cruel dream carried him away, taunting him with his human’s voice, his touch. Maybe they could just be happy together. Maybe his human would forgive him.

Atsushi smiled sadly as darkness overcame him. Dreams could be cruel.

#shin soukoku #sskk #atsuaku #akuatsu #siren au #mermaid au

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cockasinthebird · 3 years

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Dear anon,

Here’s the Second Part to the request you made about Billy watching Steve masturbate! I would link the first part but then this post wont show up in the tag because that’s how it works, apparently

I think this might be one of my favourite things I’ve written, and yes I know I say that quite often, but there’s nothing wrong in enjoying your own stuff!!!

And I hope that you all enjoy it just the same~

The second time, he sits in a very expensive chair, specifically the one Mr Harrington occupies whenever he’s actually home and dealing with work from his office, the room covered in mahogany furniture and shiny leather seats.

He spins around a few times, taking in the grand paintings on the walls, none of them of the family whose house this is, the glamorous curtains, the small and tasteful plants, and the head of a stag hanging in all its grandiose above the fireplace. Expensive, fancy, ostentatious. A showroom of importance and wealth.

Any one piece of furniture in this room costs more than Billy’s own house, and there is nothing Billy loathes more than rich assholes that think they can buy the world. Which just makes him defiling the heir to this fortune all the more fun for him.

The leather creaks underneath him as he stops spinning. From atop the desk he brings a glass of scotch to his lips, and gives it none of the respect Mr Harrington would believe it to be deserving of; simply bottoms out like it’s a shot of vodka. He licks his lips clean and swallows a few extra times to really enjoy his stealing of the oldest bottle in the liquor cabinet.

Then finally he stands up, slams the glass down with almost too much force on the dark wood, and walks around the desk to sit down in another leather chair, this one facing a couch on where Steve lies naked.

“Enjoying yourself, daddy?” he asks with a smile that runs from one ear to the other, on the verge of cracking his sexy facade.

And Billy laughs heartily at it, throws his head back a bit. “Oh don’t start on that, pretty boy! I am not ready to explore either of our daddy issues just yet.”

Steve can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, then settles it into something more smooth and delicate, teasingly so, as he runs a hand down his side, from chest to hip where it rests. He’s lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, his front turned fully toward where Billy admires the view - still dressed from head to toe - Steve’s cock hard from attention alone, the flushed head resting against the leather. And he waits patiently for whatever Billy has in mind.

When Steve had come home today, Billy had done the whole Marco-Polo charade till Steve found him pouring a drink from the glass bar behind the large desk. He hadn’t bothered complaining or asking any questions about why Billy is in his father’s office, simply sat down when commanded, and stripped without any hesitation when told.

Now they’re looking at one another in silence. Billy spreads his legs as wide as the armrests will allow, and runs his hand rough up and down his girthy cock trapped inside denim still, and Steve’s dark and lustful gaze follows the movement attentively.

“You look amazing like this, Stevie,” Billy mutters, voice thick and salacious as he touches himself through too many layers. “I wanna watch you.”

Steve hums pleasantly and slowly starts slipping the hand on his hip down toward his full erection.

“You said last time you love watching me…” Fingertips graze against his cock, teasing and gentle and slight. “You ever watch me jerk off in private?”

Billy swallows hard, contemplating whether he should tell the truth or if that would be too intrusive to admit. But Steve has yet to get upset at Billy for any of his deviant behaviour. “Yeah, a few times.”

And for the truth he’s rewarded with Steve wrapping his fingers around himself, slowly moving up and down, squeezing around the head that leaks into his hand.

“Ah-h, good,” Steve’s voice starting to waver as he strokes his dick; wetting it with his own pre. “I think about you a lot when I masturbate, fuck, thinking about you at all gets me hard.”

Billy blinks slowly, wanting to meet Steve’s gaze but finds it impossible to look away from how Steve’s hand moves a bit faster. He removes his own hand from the bulge in his jeans and grips the armrests of the chair.

“Do you ever finger yourself when you think of me?”

Steve licks his lips at that, and smiles with certain intent, although Billy doesn’t notice as he’s mesmerised as always by the way Steve touches his own throbbing prick.

“Not always, but whenever I do finger myself, I only think of you.”

“Show me,” Billy demands without hesitation - softly, but with no hint of ‘if you want to.’

But Steve wants to. His breath hitches at the stern tone to Billy’s words, the restraint in his movement clear as he slows down and eases his grip.

“You want me to finger myself in front of you, here, in my father’s office, on his expensive couch?” Steve asks, incredulously, feigning reluctance, yet doesn’t stop the now lazy caress of his lengthy cock, keeps smiling, stays posing on his side.

Billy sits silent, doesn’t respond right away, instead he pulls up a small, inconspicuous, clear plastic bottle from the pocket of his shirt, and tosses it onto the couch.

“Yes.”

Steve looks at it; there’s no labels or text or anything, really the most boring and ordinary little container, but there is no doubt in his mind what it is.

“How do you want me?” he asks and finally meets with Billy’s eyes, a fire there burning hotter than the sun could ever dream of.

“However you do it when you’re alone - when I’m not here to fuck you into your mattress. Show me just how badly you want my thick cock.”

And as is often done in situations where words aren’t needed anymore, Steve simply bites his lip, keeps the bottle firm in his grasp, and gets up on his knees. He turns around on the couch, angling his perfect ass towards where Billy sits patiently like a statue, then bends forward; arching his back and spreading himself before his audience to grant a good look of everything. His leaking prick hanging between his legs, hole exposed fully.

“Fuck, Steve…” Billy nearly gasps at the view - didn’t expect to be this affected by it as he shuffles around in his seat, almost overwhelmed by the urge to just shove his tongue through Steve’s rim and eat him out till he’s cumming and crying. Billy adjusts the taut fabric of his jeans before settling in his place.

The cap of the bottle pops off loudly, lube drips onto Steve’s fingers, and with a careful motion, as to not waste a single drop, he brings his hand behind himself. He runs three digits flat and slick over his entrance, getting himself proper wet, staring straight at how attentively Billy watches, the self control damn impressive as those bluest of eyes twitch at the sight of Steve slipping in his middle finger.

Steve coos and keens, perhaps a bit excessive, perhaps egged on by the way Billy’s knuckles turn white as he strangles the leather armrests. He holds one hand on the back of the couch to keep himself steady as he quickly finds an all too pleasant rhythm that leaves him craving more.

Billy hasn’t been this turned on, this painfully erect, since the first time he saw someone play with themselves, back when he was 13 and stole a porn tape from a thrift store in Cali. He still has it hidden away, mostly for sentimental reasons now, because nothing can compare to watching Steve finger himself open, moaning and dripping worse when he adds a second finger.

“Ah-h, mmh- Billy,” Steve teases with his name on that lascivious tongue.

And every sound that escapes makes Billy’s lust boil hotter, bubbling under his skin, the urge to touch like a strong current pulling him under. Touch himself, touch Steve.

It takes all of his strength not to stand up, close the short distance between them and drive in two fingers past that gorgeous clenching ring of muscle, opening up Steve faster so that Billy can fuck him hard into the leather of daddy’s dear couch, press his face against the cushions and have him cumming in less than a minute.

Steve pushes in a third finger, thighs trembling as he moans out, “Shit, oh-” with an overt shudder running through him as he hits just the right spot.

“Feel good, baby?” Billy asks softly, voice husky and smooth, as he unbuttons his shirt slowly.

“S-so good, ah-” Steve’s prick leaks onto the seat, between his knees, fingers pumping fervently in and out leaves him writhing as he abandons any sense of rhythm, and Billy recognizes the way he’s calling out, cursing, close to mumbling his words.

Knows that it won’t be too long now.

“Fuck, Billy! Billy- Billy-”

“Yeah?” Billy groans out, pleased with how erotic his name can sound when it comes from such a pretty mouth.

“I’m- I’m close.” Fingers go as deep as they can, as quick as they can, it’s almost kinda impressive how rapidly he moves those digits, and it all goes to show that this might be something he does more frequently than originally suggested.

Billy unbuckles his belt, flicks free the button of his jeans, and lets the zipper run loose, immediately bringing some sense of relief to his own pent-up, aching cock. He then removes his hands again, one elbow on the armrest, chin in hand as he continues to simply leer at how Steve fingers himself, how his brows are pulled high and tight, how his eyes can barely stay open as they fight the urge to roll back.

“Think you can cum untouched like this?” he asks, impatience apparent in his rumbling tone.

“N-no, fuck, ah-h-” Steve cries and bucks his hips onto his fingers.

“Hmm…” Billy hums like he’s dissatisfied with that response. “I’ve seen you do it before.”

“Mmhn, ahh, yes, yes- in your ha-ands, not- not on my own,” Steve whines and meets Billy’s gaze with all too sincere eyes.

And fuck if that doesn’t make Billy’s full erection kick and leak in its entrapment - to know that he can make King Steve cum on his fingers or dick alone is empowering, strokes his ego just right.

“Fuck, Stevie, baby,” Billy growls with exposed teeth all predatory and lecherous. "Touch yourself. Cum for me, all over daddy's expensive leather couch."

Steve doesn't waste time before he brings his other hand to his weeping prick, and as he wraps his fingers around it to eagerly jerk himself, Billy grunts lightly as his own cock twitches with overwhelming jealousy.

It really doesn't take more than a few strokes till Steve buries his face against the backrest, crying out loud as he moves his fingers hard and precise, back arching in the most beautiful curve, spilling all over the dark seat as he pumps himself dry of every drop, thighs visibly tensing and quivering.

“Gorgeous,” Billy breathes out, convinced that his grip on the armrests will soon tear the leather apart, his underwear completely soaked with pre.

Steve’s arms fall till his palms rest against the leather seat, his entire being pulsating and shivering with every heavy breath, sounding like he just ran a marathon. But as he moves to change his position, perhaps get more comfortable, Billy intervenes-

“Didn’t say you could move,” there’s barely a hint of play to his tone, “Stay just like that for me.”

So Steve does just that - shuffles around a bit on his knees to kneel better, swallows thickly, and hangs his head low to look at Billy from between his legs.

Billy in turn finally pulls his pained cock free with a loud and telling grunt of relief, the air almost sharp in its coldness, but it’s soothed by his firm hand running up and down his slick erection. Already he knows that this won’t last nearly as long as he wants it to; feels it in the way the coil twists pliantly, thighs and abs flexing at his every move.

“Mmh- shit, arrh, baby I- I want you to show me- fuck- spread your ass out for me.”

And Steve obeys all too readily, moving his hands back to grab a full cheek in both to spread them as far apart as he can, exposing his fluttering hole, puffy and well loved.

The sight of it makes Billy’s hips buck off of his seat, an interrupting moan punches the air out of his lungs, his cock spurting pre something horribly, the sounds of his jerking motion obscene and loud and overwhelming as he grips himself harder- tight like how Steve’s ass would feel right now, wrapped around him, sucking him in, milking him dry, right here in his father’s office, soiling the leather, defiling the high and mighty importance with moans of the heir’s hole getting ravished-

Just the mere thought of what Billy might get to do with Steve in every single room of this house, all goddamn 12 of them, has him cumming in near record time - a loud and unexpected orgasm that crashes through him as he lifts up and into his hand, cursing loudly towards the ceiling, cum shooting all the way up his chest to clash with the sweaty tan skin, painting him in white, pumping till he’s sore and lets his cock go with a hiss.

Suddenly so exhausted he could probably fall asleep right here, eyes closed and struggling to catch his breath as he slumps in the chair. That is until hands land on both his knees, squeezing gently and caressing him, and when he opens his eyes to look down there’s Steve, kneeling between Billy’s legs, a slight smile and the most adoring gaze, a glorious vision that shoots straight through Billy’s heart and overstimulated cock simultaneously.

Before Billy gets to make the next move, Steve crawls closer, brings out his tongue to run it hot and flat over Billy’s flaccid dick, pulling forth a pained, “shit, ah-h!” then continues with soft kisses up his stomach, across his abs, till he reaches where cum has been splashed across Billy’s pecks. And under the watchful stare of blue skies, Steve lets out his tongue once more, licks a stripe through the white pool and swallows with an almost delighted little hum.

A whole show that Billy will play over and over in his head those few nights Steve isn’t around.

And Steve finishes his climb straddling Billy’s thighs, kissing him deeply and passionately, as if he’s not satiated quiet yet, mixing the taste of them with dancing tongues, sweet and salty and strong still with an aftertaste of scotch.

#Harringrove #My Writing #lemon #part 2 of that one request I responded to a few days ago #2.4k words #I should start tagging how many words #so that people know how long it is before clicking #Read more

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power-chords · 3 years

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Post-trip round-up, integration, thoughts (cut for length & some Heavy Shit)

WOW I needed that and I am so glad I realized I needed that. It has been well over ten years since I last took LSD, and my reluctance to indulge in psychedelics again was rooted in a long and complicated history that I don't really need to hash out here, but doing a mild dose of mushrooms last weekend gave me the confidence and conviction that I was ready.

Would it have been wiser to take a less bonkers dose for the first time in a decade plus? Probably! Do I regret a single moment of it? Not a whit! It's tough to overstate just how powerful, therapeutic, and restorative a good acid trip is, even an occasionally intense, uncomfortable one. I do not recommend eating multiple tabs of extremely good blotter on your first rodeo, but Adam's even more of a veteran psychonaut than I am, so I was 1000% well cared for, totally safe, and in a comfortable, familiar environment. In that setting, and in a positive frame of mind, acid is not going to throw anything at you that you are not equipped to handle. I would love to make this an annual or biannual thing.

The cool, funny, wacky delightful stuff:

Put it under my tongue at 10 AM-ish. Went to go listen to some music and doodle until it kicked in. I forgot that the come-up is like, do not make any fucking plans involving hand-eye coordination LMAO. I was trying to doodle Bowery Ballroom in an old sketchbook, and that devolved quickly. The markers were old so some of the caps were really stuck on there, and I wound up devolving into fits of laughter from the absurdity of pulling the caps off with my teeth.

Ink stains on my hands started writhing and trailing and were very cool. That was the first thing I noticed. I got very sad that I stopped drawing and making art, which was something I did all my life and almost went to school for but stopped doing as an adult. And then I realized I could start drawing again any time if I wanted to, and I didn't have to be GOOD at it or a proper artist for it to be worthwhile and fun. Felt immediately happy again.

Adam decided to watch Lethal Weapon???? I was like, Don't Like That. Even though he had headphones on and I couldn't hear anything. I am ambivalent about screens at best when I'm tripping, and at worst I don't even want to be in the same room with them. Guns and violence seemed comically, brutally stupid. Turned my back to the TV and continued drawing and writing until I could no longer hold a pen. Eventually Adam got on my wavelength and was like yeah, this is too much! (He took like, twice the dose that I did. I have no idea how he was even able to talk to me, but he managed!)

Felt the need to message Liana while peaking, picked up my phone, and saw that she had already sent me this:

I thought that was HILARIOUS (tbh it actually was, and it was not just the acid talking)

For the first few hours of teeth-grinding, reality-shearing intensity, Adam and I mostly lounged in bed with the shades pulled all the way up and the window open, cuddling and petting Ernie. Fantastic bonding experience for the whole fam.

Looking at every surface in the apartment became like looking at a stained glass ceiling, or an infinite mandala, or the muddied rainbows in oil-slicked puddles. It looked like Ernie's fur was breathing and someone had colored all over the white parts of him with a highlighter. Adam agreed with this assessment. Formica on the kitchen counters was bananas. So were the trees outside, rippling like celluloid and brighter green than I had ever seen them.

The two of us spent a good 15 minutes doubled over with laughter because Adam suggested a contraption for funneling Fancy Feast directly into Ernie's mouth, kind of like shotgunning a beer

Adam: "I can't believe I used to to this and get on the subway and try to do things with people." Me: "What? How did you even figure out how to get from Point A to Point B?" Adam: "I mean, we didn't, really. We usually got lost. It was fine, though." Truly, it's about the friends you make along the way!

The second half of the trip, when things are starting to mellow out a bit, is when you become a real rock star. I went outside for a walk around the neighborhood, and to sit in the park with my headphones on while watching kids play on the playground, and it was ECSTATIC. I was just overjoyed. My face still hurts from smiling.

Forgot that I needed money to realize my goal of obtaining a popsicle, so I had to detour back into the apartment and explain all of this to my husband before resuming the popsicle quest. He thought it was very funny, but sympathized.

Fresh air, popsicles and San Pellegrino on acid. On another level! 100/10.

Bathrooms still universally suck, LOL. -10/10. Not a fan of that bathroom while tripping face! Every time I had to pee it was like WELL here we go again into the Pink Squirming Hell Chamber (I am making this sound like more of a big deal than it actually was)

15 HOURS. 15 HOURS Jesus Christ lmao I did not stop seeing weird shit on screens and surfaces until like 1 AM. And even then, if I stared long enough, funky colors and patterns would re-emerge. It's a commitment. I feel happy and refreshed, but also totally exhausted. Definitely have to budget a full weekend of No Plans for any future trips.

The Heavy Shit:

There is some Cronenberg-level body horror right before the visuals get super rainbow-stained and stereotypically psychedelic, which sounds bad, but I promise it isn't. It's watching the veins pulse under your skin and change into very saturated colors, pores and hair and scars become very defined and wiggly, and as someone who has so much bodily anxiety related to my alopecia/IBS, it was weirdly... freeing? You get to experience all this stuff in an entirely new frame of mind, shedding judgment and old thought ruts. I remember thinking, "I do not need to feel shame about my body," and letting go of so much baggage.

At some point mid-afternoon I decided to retrieve my phone from the drawer again, and saw that I had a missed call and a voicemail from my dad. I decided to play it back, and he was just phoning to tell me that he was listening to a live version of "Sally Simpson" and Keith was doing this thing where he wasn't even touching the cymbals, and had I listened to that specific performance before and noticed the same thing, and wasn't he truly the greatest drummer that ever lived? "Anyway, no need to call me back, just wanted to let you know. I love my bubbie!" (His term of endearment for me.) And I went to go sit in bed and weep for a straight 15 minutes, the most cleansing, purging cry you could possibly imagine, while Adam hugged me and rubbed my back. I was overwhelmed, overcome by this feeling of cosmic Love and Connection with my family and my husband and all of my friends.

I had been sitting on and burying so much fear and distress from the past 18 months, the chronic, low-grade trauma that was worrying if COVID was going to kill my father, my best friend and closest confidante and the one person on earth who I feel truly Gets Me on a spiritual level, and all of that came out. Fully processed and released every ounce of grief. What replaced it was the absolute, unshakable faith that no matter what happens — including my greatest fear, which is inevitable, no matter how far off it may be — he will always be with me, and a part of me, in the music we both love, and I will never, ever lose that.

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binniedeactivated · 4 years

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saint. || soobin (3.0)🌪

ayo! welcome to saint 3.0 !

pairing: soobin x reader genre: au word count; 4k

it was a rough day for you. school work was heavy and it’s also have been a couple of days since you kissed yeonjun and to make matters worse, soobin wasn’t released yet. you tried your hardest to forget about the kiss and of course yeonjun’s heartless ass went back to treating you the way he was before. but nothing was the same in your mind at least. you didn’t mean to do it, it just happened at a time where you were desperate. you hadn’t noticed the impact soobin had on you until then. and you and yeonjun had already decided to keep it to yourselves so in your heart you promised you would never do it again.

you were tossing and turning in your sleep amongst loud patterns against your window. you positioned the pillow over your head hoping that the tree branch found somewhere else to brush against. but it didn’t. you needed this sleep more than anything, especially since you had your first exam in the morning. it was too annoying to sleep through so you got up and lifted your window, you saw someone standing outside your house gazing up at you. you rubbed your eyes in disbelief and looked back below you. and there was soobin, smiling up at you as if you were the best thing in the world. your heart raced and nothing stopped the jitters you were feeling. “come downstairs”. and like a child on christmas you bolted down the stairs in your robe and opened the front door. you hadn’t had time to stand there and look at him before you were picked up and your lips were curling around his.

he didn’t even have to say anything and neither did you. your legs wrap around his waist and he’s letting his tongue wander your mouth as if it was never there before. you take the moment to enjoy the way his soft lips melted on your own and you wanted to smack yourself for even kissing yeonjun. it was a stupid move to make especially when soobin’s lips were your glass slipper. there was no pair better than his. stumbling into the house as quiet as possible soobin is still holding you up with one hand while shutting the front door and locking it with the other. he places both hands on your ass while he sucks on your lips and carries you up the stairs. he closes your bedroom door behind him and lays you back on your bed. his body felt so warm hovering over yours. his hand caresses your cheek and he uses his other hand to caress your thigh. you missed his touch. you missed his scent. you missed him so much. finally getting the air you both were yearning for, your eyes glossed over his with need.

“i missed you, princess”. he whispers with his lips only centimeters from yours. you saw the love in his eyes but you wish you hadn’t. it only made you feel even more guilty for what you did.

“I missed you too. why were you throwing rocks at my window? it’s 3am. when did you get back?”.

“late this afternoon. i wanted to take a minute to get myself cleaned up and act natural with my parents for a little while. but I couldn’t help myself”.

you sigh, combing his hair back with your hand. “you know I have an exam in the morning”. he leans in and kiss you on your cheek.

“I know. and I know you’ll do well regardless. but I missed you too much. how was yeonjun?”.

“a jerk like always. but I don’t have to worry about him now that you’re here, thank god”.

“he’s an ass but I also think you’re a brat too”. soobin laughs. you playfully scoff. “you’re supposed to be on my side”. you reply.

“see look at you. bratty behavior”.

“I’m not a brat”.

“yes you are”.

“am not”.

“the fact that you’re making this an argument and pouting about it shows how much of a brat you are”.

“I’m not making it into an argument”.

“then just accept the fact”.

“make me”.

soobin furrowed an eyebrow with a grin waiting at the corner of his lips. he started to bite the insides of his cheek shortly after.

“sit on my face”.

you could almost choke, “what?”.

“you heard me”. soobin turned to lay on his back next to you, and you began to nervously babble about nonsense of how loud you didn’t want to be but soobin didn’t care. he grabbed your waist and placed you on his torso. he sat up on his elbows.

“take off your panties”. he interrupts. “soobin it’s late”.

“i don’t care. take them off”. he said again while helping you this time. he reaches his hand up your thigh high night gown and slides your panties down your leg tossing them to the far side of the bed.

“you don’t even have to do anything. just sit down. understood?”. he ordered in a serious tone. and you nodded with your nerves being wrecked with each movement. he let his hands rest on your thighs while you inched your way up to his face until you were finally hovering over it. soobin glances up and smirks, “your pussy looks prettier from this position”. he compliments. you tremble as he ropes his arms around your thighs making you clasp down on his mouth. his tongue his automatically roaming your folds and you felt you heart jump.

he teased you, letting his tongue slurp up and down your mid region barely letting it touch your clit. you stammered his name and he ignores you, doing whatever he wanted to do. it took no time for you to start collecting moisture. the more his tongue avoided your sensitive nub the wetter you became. his lips were so delicate and moist between your legs. your heart pounded and you began gasping hard. you gripped your headboard.

soobin loved hearing you whiny for him. he loved how his mouth made you feel. he could care less how late or early it was. he was willing to please you in every way possible. your soft whimpers were like candy to his ears. you got more needy. before you were nervous but now you were chasing the high that you really needed. your legs began to shake while he let his spit pile up before slurping it up in his path. “sssoobin!”. you whine. your eyes half lidded while you felt as if you were in some sort of euphoric trance. “i waant...”. you began. and that’s exactly what soobin was waiting for. he was waiting for you to beg.

“what do you want baby...?”. he lowly groans while slicking his tongue over your hole making you shudder. you tried to best to ignore the crucifix that was hanging on your wall. you apologized to jesus in advance for what you were about to say. “I wwwannt you to liickk...”.you moan while soobin is groaning and absorbing your wetness beneath you. you felt yourself go into a fit of light throbs.

“lick what?”. he questions again like he didn’t know. you let your hand rest on the base of his jaw. your mouth hung low while he was lapping his tongue over your now wet folds over and over. your breathing got heavier.

“godd soobin--”. you whined biting your lips like so. “cccan yyou lick myy clit pplease”. you stuttered and begged like some horny idiot. your clit was throbbing obnoxiously and you couldn’t take soobin ignoring it any longer. “hmm”. he hums. “pplease daddy”. you beg again. soobin smirks again while tongue kissing his way up to your throbbing and soaking clit writhing his tongue around it like you wished. you convulsed and felt butterflies wreck havoc in your abdomen. he groans while he was eating you, and you had to admit it was one of the hottest things he’s ever done.

“like this?”. he asks and your chest was heaving trying to capture some air. it felt like you were being suffocated with bliss, his wet tongue contorting against your clit. “yes! ohmygod”. you whine again. soobin unropes his arms around your thighs just to grip your ass. he pushes both cheeks up as far as possible to make sure he was licking and sucking every bit of you, and also to make your clit more accessible to his tongue. he relished the way it poked out as soon as he did so and it made him suck it even harder than before. you wanted to yell and scream and moan his name as loud as possible but it was impossible to do that while your parents were in the next room. the slurping sounds of soobin’s tongue was enough to make you cry. your heart beat was going at the same systematic pace as your throbs and it was driving you insane.

“ssoobin please!”. you whimpered clutching the headboard in absolute gratification. it was becoming way too overwhelming for you to handle. since his arms wasn’t trapping you, you decided to move further up in the air where his tongue couldn’t reach you to get away from the pleasure for a bit. “who told you to move?”. soobin growls and pulls you back down onto his mouth. his lips continued to dance at a rhythm that had you shaking. you didn’t know how much longer you could last.

“ssoobin i’m going to--”. you felt your muscles clench before your body spasmed. soobin’s tongue was twirling around your clit while you were releasing on his face. his tongue only prolonged it and there weren’t much to do since you grew limp. as some point soobin gained some mercy and laid you down on the bed, using his drenched lips to suck purpling hickies into your neck until you were finished. you made a complete mess of yourself and you were embarrassed. but soobin was proud of you.

“good job princess, you’re getting better and cumming harder”. and for some reason soobin babying you through this process uncaged a different amount of butterflies. it made you feel accomplished and safe at the same time. “it is supposed to be that powerful?”. you breathed. “if the stimulation is good yes”. soobin smiles while pushing a sweaty strand of hair to the back of your head. he kisses you on your lips and you snuggle your way into his chest.

“are you okay? do you want me to buy you food?”. soobin offers. “no it’s okay. plus I have food here”. “alright. you should sleep so you can be ready for tomorrow”. you laid your chin on his chest gazing at him. “are you going to go?”. “I was going to after you fell asleep”.

you snuggled him closer to you. “don’t go” you sort of whined. soobin thought it was adorable. “your parents will kill us both if they find us here in the morning”. “they leave before me. and they don’t come in my room anyways”.

“you sure?”.

“yes”.

“well alright. I bought extra clothes in my car just in case. wait a minute though”.

soobin sits up and drags his shirt off his body. it was way too wet now to be wearing to sleep in. as soon he pulled his shirt off his head your eyes boggled. you hadn’t ever noticed or saw soobin’s chiseled frame, his wide shoulders and spacious back. especially up this close anyways. he wore a thin gold chain that swept over his neck whenever he moved and you had to say it complimented his body well. he laid back down like nothing happened. you were just admiring him. he truly was perfect. “geesh soobin”. he laughs of course.

“all yours”. he winks. you lay your head into his chest again. “I’m glad”. it took nothing for the both of you to fall asleep after that. luckily at least one of you woke up on time or the both of you were going to be terribly late. that person was you. you happily woke up a little earlier to take a shower actually. you now fully understood why people were so happy after having a good orgasm.

with a towel wrapped around your body you walked back into your room forgetting soobin was even in there. he was sound asleep on his back just as cute as he wanted to be. his pink heart shaped lips were in the cutest pucker and his hair was dangling over his eyes adorably. you followed after your urge and kissed him on his lips. “wake up soobin”. you cooed softly. you kissed him a few more times and combed through his hair before his eyes fluttered open sleepily. he smiles at you initially with his dimples sinking into his cheeks. he looked like a baby.

“we have to get dressed for school”. “5 more minutes”. soobin replies, throwing the blankets over his head. you pulled them back down playfully. “no get up soobin”. you laugh. “please?”.

“soobin we’re going to be late”.

“no we’re not. you’re just an early bird”.

“the early bird gets the worm right?”.

soobin eyes you, letting his eyes wander down your frame. he hadn’t noticed you were wrapped in a towel, basically naked. he smirks, clutching the bottom hem of the towel.

“what’s this? are you trying to tease me?”.

you snatch yourself away from his hand.

“no. I forgot you were even here”. soobin scoffs.

“yeah right”.

“I did”.

you sincerely did but the idea of teasing soobin made your mind spin. it sounded fun, and you decided to make that your new playground. you walk away from him and he watches you. you smirk to yourself while purposely bending over to pick up something off of your floor. “don’t know why that was there” you say, disposing it into your trash bin.

soobin has his hands behind his head now, licking his lips. he looked sexy but you weren’t going to say that. instead you pretended to look for a shoe under your bed, letting your back arch as deep as possible.

“now you’re teasing me”.

“I’m trying to find a shoe”.

“while naked?”.

“i mean, I am in my room aren’t i?”.you snarkily comment. after looking for no such shoe you get up, not even being able to concentrate prior to being pulled onto soobin’s lap. the pressure of the bulge in his pants felt good against your core. but it was way too early for this.

“soobin what are you doing?”. you ask nervously, feeling his large hands slide down your love handles. soobin grins, “you’re so lucky we have school. I’d tear you up right now”. he slides his fingers down to your clit teasing it softly before coming to an abrupt stop. you moaned a bit.

“just for teasing me though, I don’t think you deserve to be touched. we should go”.

and those were his last words before he smirked to fetch his clothes. you wanted to kill him.

but then again you couldn’t, because he brought you breakfast before your first exam. he kissed you on your lips before you entered your classroom, confident that you’d pass. soobin turns around to see yeonjun staring at him with a disgusted look.

“ew. and when did you even get back dumb ass?”.

“shut up. I got back yesterday afternoon. they had no evidence on me”.

“so you weren’t going to call and tell anyone?”.

“what for? you know now. I’m at school right?”.

“whatever. you need to study if you want to pass these damn exams”.

“I hope i can, shit. I’ve been out for a minute”.

“yeah I heard theres a ski trip for the people who pass”.

“ski trip?”.

“yeah some shit like that”.

“damn my parents must’ve doubled up on the tuition here”.

“for real. how it feels being a free man though?”.

“you’re acting like i was a wanted criminal”.

“you were wanted. and found by the police”.

“whatever. I just missed my baby”.

yeonjun made another gagging sound. “you guys are fucking disgusting. what did your parents say when you got back?”. soobin shrugs. “they just asked me how the event was. I think they were glad I was finally doing normal school boy shit for a change”.

“well at least you know what to do to make them happy”.

“I don’t care about making them happy anymore. they’ve never tried to make me happy. you’d think if you had only one other person to pay attention to it would be a little easier.”.

“is that why you love that damn girl so much? because she gives your dumb ass attention?”.

“if i were to fall in love with attention I’d be in love with the whole damn school right now. she pays me a special kind of attention”.

“I’m going to puke on you”, soobin shoves him and laughs.

“shut the fuck up yeonjun”.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

“I just hope math isn’t any harder”. you explain,

“today’s exam wasn’t even hard. I doubt they’d make math impossible”. taehyun replies with his lab coat, goggles, and gloves in full effect, squirting a liquid chemical into the test tube. you always thought chemistry was boring but you were happy Sister Christine finally assigned you a lab partner who actually cared about getting the project done. “it’s fizzing”. he announces, “yeah thank you I can totally see that”. you utter in pure sarcasm. taehyun laughs and apologizes lowering it the your level so you can write down your observations.

“I just hope I don’t fail”.

“you won’t. just don’t think about it”.

“then how will i remember?”.

“how do you forget what you’ve learned that fast?”.

“everyone can’t be smart and skip grades like you taehyun. you’re like one of the youngest seniors here”.

“i’m seventeen”.

“exactly”.

“most of you are only a couple of years older than me. plus you all fail because you don’t apply yourselves. the boys are focused on wanting to be the next Choi Soobin and the girls are focused on actually being with Choi Soobin”.

you laugh, “that’s not true”.

taehyun grabs another test tube and plastic dropper. “I take it that you are one of them--god i thought you were different”. he sarcastically jokes.

“I take it that you’re one of the few guys who wants to be Choi Soobin”.

taehyun squirts the chemical inside, getting the dropper ready for the next chemical to mix. “why would I? he’s a menace”.

“he’s changed a lot you know”.

taehyun scoffs, “yeah--either you’re dating soobin or you’re his biggest stalker because what the fuck”.

you laugh, “what? why?”.

“because come on who even knows that you creep”. he accuses before squirting the chemical inside of the tube only for it to react way too quickly and it’s contents to fizz up to the top, exploding. taehyun panicked and held it over the sink while you were hysterically laughing at the mess and his surprise. you knew it would mean a bigger mess for you both to clean but you thought taehyun’s face was worth it.

“was that supposed to happen?”.

“those are the chemicals she told us to mix on the paper”. taehyun laughs along with you.

“the moment i’ve been waiting for. finally, students who got this far into the experiment”. sister christine smiles, she was obviously pleased. “you could’ve gave us a warning you know, that would be nice”. taehyun mentions while wiping the outsides of the tube until it was clean. you took a bunch of paper towels and began wiping the table down until it was completely dry.

“this only makes your lab report that much easier to write”. she exclaims before going to help another student. taehyun sits the test tube in the rack and tries his best to wipe his goggles clean. the both of you were glad that was your last experiment for the day. but you both couldn’t help but to laugh.

you adjusted your backpack strap on your shoulder. “yeah but if you need help with math i got you. it’s nothing to be honest”. taehyun explains while you both exit the classroom. “that would be so helpful actually. I don’t want to fail”. taehyun slips his phone out of his pocket. “what’s your number?”. he asks and you give him your digits while he diligently types it in his phone. “I’m going to call you later, we can go over some practice problems together”.

“that would be such a great help. thank you taehyun seriously”.

“no problem. I’ll catch you later”. taehyun turns to leave and so do you. the only difference is taehyun actually made it down the hallway. you were greeted by soobin’s chest.

“geesh soobin. you don’t announce yourself?”.

“who is that?”. he questions, completely regarding your initial question. his face looked cold and mean-- you thought it was kind of hot. he was always adorable when he smiled and his dimples showed but him deadpanning you like this was a different story.

“can you stop being possessive for one moment? please?”.

“who is that?”.

“it’s taehyun. he’s going to help me study for math”.

“why did you give him your number?”.

“so he can reach me. how else are we going to study? through telepathy?”.

“you don’t need taehyun. I’ll buy you a tutor”.

“soobin please stop being ridiculous. Whose to say the tutor isn’t some other random guy?”.

“it won’t be. I’ll make sure it’s a woman”.

“What if I like women?”.

Soobin deadpans you again with the most serious look. his hotness was undeniable at this point.

“don’t play with me”.

“What if I want to play with you?” You cheekily snarl, walking to your next class. This game was sort of fun up until you were in the car with him. you’d glance over and he’s tousle his hair over a couple of times but his face couldn’t be read. you’d ask him if he was angry and he’d simply say “no” and to spice things up a bit he’d reply with, “what do I have to be angry for?”. but you didn’t know what to think.

you arrived at his house and he was ushering you in like you’d never been there before. his parents were in a separate part of the house in another dining room having a meeting with some guy. you were kind of relieved they didn’t see the both of you enter. you didn’t know if you were ready to meet them yet. halfway up the stairs though you could hear his mother call out, “soobin is that you?” to which he replied, “yes”. and they left it at that. you figured she was making sure that was soobin she heard walking in and not some stranger.

his hand was on the small of your back as he guided you down the hall to his room. he closed the door behind him with the back of your shirt in his grip. you wanted to ask him if he was angry with you again, but in one swift movement you were being pushed down on your stomach atop of his bed.

“whose taehyun?”. he asks again with his veiny arms on both sides of your body. you felt his warmth hover over you while he attaches his lips to the back of your neck nipping at your skin lightly with his teeth before sucking it. he didn’t want to be mad at you but when you were playing you were making it seem as though you and taehyun had something more than just studying habits. you grew nervous.

“he’s helping me with math I told you that”.

“mmm” soobin scowls while reaching his hand up your thighs and making you sit in an arch with his thumbs. he glides your panties down your legs slowly and you could feel the outline of his thick cock pressed against the back of your vaginal lips. from the feeling alone you knew you wouldn’t be able to take his length. you gasp and your heart pounds expeditiously fast.

“don’t lie to me”. he growls and you tremble at how dark his voice had gotten. you heard the sound of his belt unbuckling and you grew cold feet. “I’m not lying soobin--he’s just a friend-- I’m sorry”.

“you’re what?”.

“I’m sorry!--please i don’t think I can take it”.

you apologized again hoping he wouldn’t ruin you. he lets your hips go, letting your body lay flat on the bed. he chuckles at your fear. you hadn’t known you were shaking.

“playing with me isn’t a good idea”.

#choi soobin smut #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #choi beomgyu #txt #txt au #choi soobin choi soobin au

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my-galaxy-is-purple · 4 years

Text

2:25 am

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XUWkGio9teI

“Fuck, not again…” “move!” “It’s okay Hana we got this”-he heard you talking under your breath and hitting your legs frantically on the couch out of frustration.

“Nooo!”- you whined when Jungkook took your controller out of your hands and flicked your nose. “babe, it’s literally almost 3 am, what are you doing?”- he chuckled. Voice still laced with sleep, a little groggy and weak. After whining and throwing a little tantrum you finally rolled over onto your back and faced your boyfriend. He was standing by the foot of the couch, wearing a pair of old sweatpants and glasses. Nothing else. His v-line was showing from his baggy sweats barely holding up on his thin waist. You gulped a little and from embarrassment looked down, laughing.

“I’m playing overwatch, what else does it look like?! It’s all your fault you know? So don’t…”-you didn’t get to finish your sentence. Kook caught your flustered gaze and how your big blue eyes traveled all the way down from his glasses to his waist so he took the opportunity and splayed your legs open a little to lay in between.

“What was it you were saying again..?”- he smirked looking up at you from his position. He smiled after catching how pink your cheeks have gotten and how big your eyes were turning from a sudden intrusion and then laid his head down on your tummy. All of a sudden he was clutching your shirt, well, his t-shirt you were wearing, and slowly hiking it up, inch by inch.

“Kook what are you doing..”-you couldn’t let but slip a little whimper when you felt his cold long fingers touch your ribs and then plant a chaste sweet kiss to your navel.

“It’s late and you have to be in the studio early and I…” “Shhh babygirl let me make you feel good”he whispered and continued his ministrations. His long black hair was tickling your sides as he kept peppering kisses all over.

You giggled. “Kookie, stop, it tickles”

All of a sudden he sat up and gave you a stern look, jaw clenching.

“Y/N. I was waiting for you in bed for almost two hours. You never came. And then I come out here and see you like this, just in my t-shirt, laying on the couch, making those pretty little whiny noises from playing a stupid game, and then you dare give me that innocent big-eyed look looking me up and down and now you want to say its late?”

You got quiet. He wasn’t even playing around. What got into him?

“Kookie I…”

“Nuh uh, don’t call me Kookie when I’m trying to get in your pants babe”

Now that made you shut up. You felt blood rush into your face, hands that were holding his wrists all of a sudden shaking… from anticipation.

“Yes sir…”

“Good girl.”

He chuckled and spread your legs a little more, pushing your clenched thighs out. He then proceeded to take one of your legs and put it over the headrest of the couch. You got even more embarrassed, all spread out and open for him like that.

You felt chills run down your spine and cold hit your already soaked panties.

He took your hands from your face you were so desperately trying to hide.

“I want you to look at me, okay baby? don’t close your eyes. Can you do that for me?” He cooed and pinched your cheek with childish admiration.

You nodded right away, a little too eager maybe even. He put his two fingers on your lips, sign to open your mouth.

“Ahh what have I done to you babe…” he closed his eyes from satisfaction of having you take his fingers all the way into your mouth with a swirl and pop. Your knees were begging to close, you couldn’t help but try to bring your thighs together to get some kind of friction, but he stopped you in your tracks.

“Nuh uh uh babygirl. Behave.” he slapped you on the core ,where you needed him the most at the moment, and grinned at the whimper it brought out from you.

“Yeah? You want me that bad, Y/N?”he put his big hand on one of your inner thighs to keep you spread open. Then he brought down his other hand and finally touched you. He massaged you slowly, painfully slowly and you couldn’t help but roll your hips to try to get him to go faster. He just tsked and slowly brought his other hand that was resting on your inner thigh before to your face. Caressing your cheek he then trailed it down to your throat and lightly wrapped his thin long fingers around it pressing down just enough to warn you for what’s to come if you defy him again. But you couldn’t help, the slow pace he had on your bud was not enough so you whimpered more and more, moving more and more. He put more pressure on your core, sliding your soaked panties to the side and sliding his index finger in you. His hold on your throat tightening which made your eyes roll in the back of your head.

“What have I done to my pure innocent angel huh…Is this what you like now babe? Being chocked by your lover while he fucks you with his fingers deep and fast?” You whimpered, unable to say anything cuz of his grip on you. He let go all of a sudden, causing your whine of unapproval. But he slid down and laid between your thighs, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, glasses fogging up a bit.

Jungkook liked to be in total control in bed and you didn’t mind, being his sub turned you on. But sometimes he would get in one of those moods when he wouldn’t let you touch him without his approval and it annoyed you a little. You were too spent and turned on to even say anything so you just brought your hands down and cupped his face, taking his glasses off and sliding your hand over his neck and collarbones, a little timid, scared he would make you stop and punish you, but he just smiled. Soft, loving smile, not his Dom smile.

“ I still remember the first time we hooked up babe.” he ran his hands up and down your sides, all of a sudden taking your shirt off.

“You were so inexperienced, so fragile, scared even…”he threw your shirt to the floor.

“I remember first time I fucked you.” His words were making you blush even more, your heart racing.

“I can never get that feeling out of my head. Touching you for the first time was insane. I had so, so many emotions built up inside me and getting to finally make you feel physically loved was…insane” he squeezed your left boob tenderly, running his fingers over your hard nipple, smiling from how you shuddered.

“Now look at you. It’s been so long but you still seem so innocent and small and fragile, and you still make me lose my mind every time I see your legs shake like that because of me.” The need in between your legs was getting too much to bare. You put your hand in his hair and nudged him a little.

“Now look at you, so needy for me. What do you want babe? Say it.” He smirked finally touching you again.

“You…”

“What do you want me to do babygirl?” You could feel his hot breath right above your wet entrance, squeezing around nothing.

“I.. I….”

“Shh, don’t be shy baby, we both know how dirty you can be”

“I want your tongue…on my pussy”

He gave your entrance a little smack, took off your panties and dived in. The way he was licking your folds and eating you out mixed with the after mess his words left in your mind got you shaking in seconds. You were trying to squeeze your legs together from how sensitive you were getting but he wouldn’t let you. He was eating you out like a man starved. Right before you were about to cum he stopped. You had tears tackling down your red cheeks. You couldn’t even say a word to be angry with him for edging you so badly so you just slayed there, still shaking, tears spilling from your eyes.

“Aww, baby, I have ruined you so badly.” He looked up and cleaned off his chin and lips with the back of his hand. “sometimes I feel guilty for taking your innocence. Would your parents still like me so much if they knew what I did to their babygirl in bed..?” He was fingering you mercilessly again, lips close to your ear, whispering.

“Would they approve of me still? I can’t believe I have made you so dirty and needy…” “Kook, I can’t do it anymore, I need you, please…” his eyes widened at the usage of a nickname, but he let it slide seeing how blown your eyes were and how you were writhing underneath his touch.

“Take it babe” he gritted through his teeth.

“Wanna ride me?” he asked taking you by shock.

He flipped you both over, you were now straddling his waist. You just realized his sweats were still on, stained from your wetness. You could feel how painfully hard he was right underneath you, bucking his hips up from need. You helped him get out of his pants and eagerly straddled him again, slowly sinking down on him. No matter how many times you did this you could never get used to seeing him underneath you, so beautiful, so spent from need and want, all yours. You opened your eyes and saw his head lulling back on the couch, exposing his gorgeous neck and all of a sudden you got a terrible urge to wrap your hands around it, but you didn’t want to cross a line. You didn’t know what to do with your hands in the moment so you put them on his chest.

“Go on baby, you can do it” your eyes widened at his words. Did he notice what you wanted to do?

He didn’t wait and took one of your hands and put it on his neck urging you to go harder. You were still a little nervous until you felt him twitch inside you and let out a strangled moan. He was enjoying this. Ultimate Dom Jeon Jungkook liked to be choked by his girlfriend…wow. You were just getting into it when he flipped you again and turned you around “I won’t last much longer babe”he rasped out and pushed your head into the couch perking your ass up and slamming inside you. He was going rough, abrupt, deep thrusts, making you cry out both in pain and pleasure.

“Are you close??”

“Yess, please kook, touch me please I want to feel you close to me..” you were never really vocal in bed, but his crazy pace was making you lose your mind. He gripped your hair and pulled you up by the arm, wrapping his right hand around your throat from the back and gripping your waist so tightly with his left that it would surely leave bruises. After couple more deep thrusts you felt a knot in your stomach come undone and you felt him twitch inside you and you were both cumming. He slowed down and kissed your spine, letting you fall forward into the cushions and pulling out from you.

“Babe, we’re gonna need a new couch…” he chuckled sitting you up and looking at the mess you both made on your velvet couch.

#bts #bts jeon jungkook #@jungkook #smut #btssmut #bts smut #bts scenarios #late night #bts drabble #kpop #kpop imagines #boyfriend #boyfriend jungkook #jungkook smut #overwatch #jungkook overwatch

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pleasancies · 3 years

Text

Experiment 1

wordcount : 2.1k+

content (warnings) : lady whump, lab whump, mild body horror, panic attack, torture, emeto.

***

Prev. Chapter

She almost wish her mind couldn't go back to normal. The aftertaste of the cake is still present in the back of her tongue. So sweet it made her sick. A thought went across her head saying she should shove her hands to her throat just to throw it out of her. Perhaps she could even fake getting food poisoning just to delay the experiment. But then they'll see the cameras. They'll knew.

What use of throwing away perfectly good food anyway? Especially if it's in her stomach.

Avis shook her head. She couldn't be that kind of person. Happily eating in exchange for her obedience, it's too much like Fenrir. The half-mad girl from last night. It couldn't possibly be her. She's too... animalistic.

Yet even know as she circled her enclosure, Avis mouthed her old name for fear it would slip her out of her mind a second time. Fenrir is the only one that sticks now.

The sound of rushed footsteps between the halls emanates under the floor. Avis could hear faint hums of machinery and the rustling of papers. Small trickling sounds came from the leftmost corner of her room, where a portion of the cafeteria resides below. It's afternoon. Only a day before the test.

Avis fiddled with foam on her padded cell, restless. Claw marks had littered the room. She spat to a corner but the aftertaste won't fade. The former rebel felt a chill up her spine.

I can't do this. I can't even remember-

Her nails puncture the palms of her flesh. The prickling pain was enough to push the tears back to her eyes.

No matter how teary-eyed she get, tears shouldn't fall. That was forbidden. Avis promised herself long ago she won't debase herself that way. She'll be angry, she'll be stoic, but she'll never wail like a little girl. Not when she's still capable of running and especially not when she'd just got a cake and fucking enjoyed it after betraying her friends the other day. That kind of person doesn't deserve to cry.

***

Avis writhed under the restraints pinning her down. Her chest bare with electrodes taped to the surface. Head partially covered with a thick helmet with cables and dials. Her hands and legs are strapped tight. She banged her wrists under the metal, even clawed the meagre surface she could get her hands on. She turned her attention to Lisette. The interned nurse was repositioning the gurney, putting her upright.

"I'm using drastic measures. I hate pain just like you, but it's the only language you seem to understand."

Lisette crouched down to fastened the feet harness then went on, "Or maybe, you do love pain. Out of some weird sense of repressed guilt. I'm charitable enough to think you have a conscience. Perhaps that remaining bit of humanity of yours is repenting the only way it could."

Avis hurled herself forward. She strained to break free but her hands and body were still perfectly in place.

Lisette yanked a piece of her hair. "Aren't you listening? I hate it when I'm ignored."

"Stop acting high and mighty. You dealt with any kind of slight with coercion and sadism. Surprising that the Empire is still standing when it's servants are this volatile."

"Volatile? I'm not the one clawing off my professor's chest." Lisette stuck a needle to her forearm. Not the trigger serum this time. That doesn't stop Avis from tensing her shoulders.

"He's not MY professor. He's not even a real mentor to you. Stop trying to appease him. No matter how hard you work they'll never respect you as equals."

"That's because I'm a nurse. I don't have the qualifications to talk of the things he works on."

"And how many times do they disrespect you even in things you're educated in?"

Lisette yanked another clump of hair. "Not enough to count."

The young nurse moved on to setting up a pulse oximeter on her fingers. Avis kept her face neutral. The rattling from glass jars and bottles set her on edge. She could hear her own veins rushing behind her eardrums. Lisette had noted the changes. She talked of the daily reports she made while Avis was kept under. The bone structure were slightly different. The skin of her palms were thicker, too resembling some sort of padding. Even without her powers on.

There was a gaping, empty sensation where her heart should be.

"I don't understand your deal, Lise. Clayton has John nannying me around and doing his busywork. They don't even think you're capable of disposing the really nasty chemicals."

Lisette scoffed, "On the contrary, John was the load in our team. He was an intern. I don't, contrary to this uniform. Blame the wartime budget cuts. John is meant to be temporary. Any student can do his lab assistant work. My work is essential."

She was nineteen years old. They started out young, Avis thought. But then, starting work as a child is common in the lower classes. Someone with Lisette's upbringing would have the equivalent of competing to enter the Institutes as young as they can.

"Do they consider your role as important though?" Avis asked.

Before she could answer, the man they've been waiting for arrived.

"Good morning." Professor Clayton comes in without his usual long coat. He grabbed the report Lisette set on the table. He alternated between eyeing the paper and on Avis. The serious air around him is still present, yet somehow his gait was lighter. Happier.

"Morning, Professor. I hope your injuries are getting better." John comes along with him, bringing a stack of notes and documents.

Lisette beamed at their arrival. She greeted him then went on to rub sweat off Avis's neck.

"It's nothing," Clayton said. He examined her teeth, nails and eyes, to Avis's dismay as she can't even turn her head away. "The case of our second Fenrir here is a more pressing matter."

"You mean me ripping your tits off isn't an emergency?"

John glared at the laughing Lisette. She shrugged, "What? It's funny."

Clayton seems to take it in stride. He wrote a few notes on the report and went, "It happened a week ago."

He put the report back, then nudged her chin upwards with his pen. "You however, are in danger, now. Do you know what you're here for?"

The heart rate monitor perked in panic. Avis found herself staring at John. He didn't even look at her. Fiddling with a machine at the farthest corner from them with an anxious look. Behind him is a mirror showing the observation room.

"I'm here for an experiment. You said it's going to hurt," Avis said.

"I said that didn't I?" Clayton glanced at John. "Then we should get going. John, the Neuron Overrider?"

"Hold on," the lab assistant pulled the cart containing the machine to their direction. It was a small and long rectangular box. On the back is the sockets, plugs, and buttons. He connected it to the rest of the machines and the display monitors in the observation room, Lisette helping.

One thing Avis noticed was how unbreakable the entire setup was. The metal pinning her down is reinforced with a layer of genetically modified bones. The cables were as few as they could possible get away with, but it's outer casings were made out of flesh. Ripping it off would be as difficult as tearing off a snake with her bare, unpowered hands. Most of the machine casings were made of ivory. The machines and cables were positioned to be as far away from her reach. If it's big, it's stationed right besides the wall where another cable would link it to the computers on the other side. The small ones were hidden under the gurney, with the same reinforced cable connecting it to the observation room.

John crouched besides Avis, a small panel on his lap. He pulled out the cables on the front side of the overrider. A thick string of reinforced flesh with a suckling cup at the top. The thing flattened and made squelching sounds as it occupied Avis's temple. She felt the prick of a needle puncturing her skin.

"Fenrir, hey, Professor's mostly scaring you. I know it'll hurt, but you could say stop anytime."

John pulled another set of cables and plugged it to her wrist and ankle.

"I don't believe you to be honest."

She felt him squeezing her hand for a brief second. He didn't say anything, not even looking at the woman as he went to the observation room. Avis stared at his back, bewildered.

The next voice she heard was Clayton's. Behind the glass, the microphone close to his mouth. "Preliminary testing of serum 1730-B's effects. Begin Log 1351/02/08/87."

"Preface: Subject is F-041, female, 29 years of age, average physique, no major health issues, and a history of terrorism. Subject has been uncooperative and showed severe agression in the preparatory stages of this testing. Subject's exposure to serum 1730-B occurs via prolonged contact of Subject F-037's blood to the major arteries. This exposure is unplanned and unrecorded."

Really, severe agression? Avis chuckled at the idea. All I've been doing this morning is wiggle like a dying worm.

"Today we will be testing trigger reactions and rate of transformation. Previous instances of Subject F-041 mutations has shown them to exhibit similar alterations to the body as Subject F-037. So as the deterioration of certain brain functions that followed afterwards. Yet it is unknown if Serum's 1730-B retains its full potency with secondhand exposure. Dr. Fritz, if you please."

John spoke, "Yes, Professor. Brain imaging shows no signs of abnormalities. Vital signs as examined by the nurse is normal, baring the increased heartrate caused by anxiety. No signs of abnormal muscle growth nor any changes in the skeletal structure of Subject F-037. We may move on to the first experiment. Injecting epinephrine."

"Is that all I am to you? Another test subject to perv on?" Avis said.

John's eyes go wide in horror. He would ramble on over how wrong she was and her untrustworthy nature, but Avis wouldn't get the satisfaction to see it. The overrider had been activated.

A wave of terror crashed through her. Avis shrieked. Her limbs grow. She thrashed under the restraints. Her hands and feet, now enlarged, manicly shake itself off the overrider's fleshy electrodes. But it had dug it's teeth in, sending jolts and jolts of pants-soiling fear.

"What did you do to me?"

She began to hyperventilate. Her mouth tasted bitter. She's stuck. She couldn't fucking move. The metal holding her down was too strong. The air has left the room. Avis felt her heart jumped to her throat. Fight and flight hormones brimming out with nowhere to go. The whirr and buzz of engines filled her ears. Avis could even hear Clayton's breath and the shuffle of papers outside blending into a senseless cacophony. The sensors squelched, crushing her chest as she frantically thrashed at the table.

John shakily announced something. Their distorted voice intensely loud. Avis couldn't even begin to grasp what he's saying.

But she felt it.

Her vision gone dark in an instant. The pain was mind-breaking. A thousand burning razors and needles digging right into her core. It was almost transcendant. Taking everything out of her brain except for agony. Her muscles twitched and convulsed. A blood-curdling scream filled the hallways. The overrider was in her hands and feet, but it seared through her ribcage.

"STOP. MAKE IT STOP! PLEASE!!"

The pain doubled in intensity. She froze, wide-eyed, unable to move but the uncontrollabe twitching of her arms and legs. She could even feel it in it her teeth. Waves and waves of agony renewing the sensation. Avis was no stranger of getting hurt. She'd been shot, beaten, even forced to work with a barely healed broken leg. But this, Avis never even thought pain this great could even exists.

Avis hurled. Her vomit washes over the sensors. She was grateful Lisette had positioned the gurney to be tilted upright.

If John ever made a case against his Professor, Avis couldn't hear it. The pain took out her ability to think. Even the passage of time is incomprehensible. But eventually, the pain recedes.

A man's hands. Patting over her head. Suckling sounds and a sense of relief. Cold over her chest. Water trickles to her throat.

Avis woke up. Chest still heaving. She turned to the mirror. The faint reflection showed her body in its current state. Her teeth had grown so big it repositioned her jaw. Furs lined up her shoulders. Her hands— it's more claw than flesh. She's not human anymore.

"Don't worry, Fenrir. This is the strongest you'll ever get. With training, you could do more. It's temporary, of course," John said.

So much strength, but Avis was completely exhausted. Her limbs too heavy too move. She could feel the dull aftereffects pinching at her joints.

How many times do i have to do this?

#whump writing #lady whump #lab whump #body horror #panic attack #torture #emeto cw

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mcfreakin-bxtch · 4 years

Text

I Would

The Mandalorian x PlusSize!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, Dry Humping, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Language, Fluff, Soft Couple

Word Count: 2.3k+

A/N: Thank you to @whiskeyslasso for requesting and being very, very patient with me ❤️ if anyone else would like to request or just talk/ask, my inbox and anons are open (multifandom!)

This could also be read as Part Two to Beautiful, as they are essentially the same characters/mindset

“We’ll be okay.”

“You say that all the time.”

“Yeah, and here we are. Still.”

The Mandalorian sighs. “Okay,” he relents. “But if anything happens, anything at all, you—”

“Radio to you and have my blaster on me at all times.” You smile. “I got this, Din. But we do this every time, this isn’t my first time being left alone without a certain Mandalorian hovering over me.”

You walk to him and wrap your arm around his neck and let the other trail up his chestplate and to his shoulder; his arm wraps around your waist, resting at the base of your spine. You don’t want to hurt his feelings, but he can be overbearing at times, especially when you have the Child with you.

He sighs again, quieter this time, but nods and gives you a playful slap to your ass, making you giggle and smile up at him.

“I want this ass when I get back. Understand?”

Your heart skips a beat and you pout your lips. “Promise?”

He growls, making you giggle again and give a light kiss to the beskar. Before Din can reciprocate—in whichever way he feels like—you feel a tug at your pants leg. The both of you look down at the little goblin, staring back up at you with beaty round eyes and a grimace.

“I think he’s a little jealous.” You muse teasingly.

Din grunts in agreement. “Of course the womp rat is.”

You chuckle and bend down with a small groan—you really need to see about finding some comfortable padding for those cots—and pick the Child up and sit him by your side.

“Say ‘bye’.” You coo, waving his hand at Din playfully.

The Child babbles unintelligibly, but Din nods as if he understands him. “I won’t be long. Stay safe, cyar’ika.”

You nod and blow a kiss. “Be careful.”

“Always am.”

And it’s always hard watching him leave.

–

By the time Din gets back, you’re sitting on the floor with the baby surrounded by various items and toys you bought from a market not too long ago. The Child attempts to sit up, but stumbles in his footing; your hands hover by him, waiting to catch him. He turns to you and gurgles, one green, grubby hand pointed towards you and the other towards the hull, where you can hear Din moving around.

“You’re so cute!” You exclaim in a mimic of a mother’s adoration. “Just the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen! My little guy!” The Child laughs.

Din freezes just as he steps over the last step, but before you can ask what’s wrong he stalks towards the mess and glances down. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” You smile. “Nothing new.”

He picks the Child up, giving his head a soft caress. It never fails to make your heart glow with a fierce fondness you’ve never felt before. “Did he eat?”

You hum in affirmation as you start to clean up the messy area. When you look back up, Din is already gone with the baby and you’re left alone, sighing and throwing the various items into their respectful boxes.

“Well,” you puff with your hands on your hips. “That’s do—”

Everything goes dark. Pitch black. You can barely see in front of you, even with the small patch of light drifting through the Crest’s glass.

“Din?” You call out.

Your body starts to tremble. The fear that someone or something has actually gotten on to the ship somehow floods through you like a freezing tidal wave, and you’re about to reach blindly for your weapon when a pair of bare, soft hands stop you.

“Stars!” You gasp, resting your hand over your racing heart. “You can’t scare me like that, Din.”

Nothing but your breathing. Then, “I don’t like it when you say that.” That’s a little to the right.

Your face scrunches in confusion and you tiptoe until you feel you’re directly in front of where his lovely, baritone voice came from. “Say what?”

“What you said to the kid. It makes me feel... good, and secure when I leave knowing he’s safe but... puts ideas in my head.”

You raise your head. “Well, I would do anything for that bugger so you don’t gotta worry about him.” Your eyebrows wiggle playfully, just for your amusement. “And that’s not such a bad thing.”

“I know.” He says quietly.

“C’mere.” You bring him into your arms.

The two of you stay in the hug for a few moments, just revealing in the warmth and the close proximity of each other. It’s—it’s amazing, holding him in your arms like this. With his job, with your lifestyle, it’s hard to find moments of peace like this; to be able to actually sit for a minute and isolate from the outside world, even if just for a second. Sometimes, there needs to be a reminder; you know that Din needs this more than you do.

“C’mon,” you gently pull away from only far enough to grab his hand and start to lead him—one arm stretched in front of you—blindly to your shared bunk. “You made a promise.”

It takes a few bumps and some inaudible curses, but when you finally feel that empty space and the scratchy fabric of the blanket under your fingertips you sigh in relief. It’s short lived with a welcoming tap of encouragement by the Mandalorian behind you and you immediately take the hint and crawl onto the springy, hard cot. You wait and shiver in anticipation as you lay on your back, legs already spread and pussy wet and wanting.

Din practically collapses on top of you with a small groan mixed with your oof as the weight of him settles on top of you.

“You’re heavy, old man.” You giggle nonetheless.

An offended noise erupts from his chest, his breath heavy on your cheek as he hovers over you. “Old man, huh? I don’t see you complaining about that when I’m balls deep inside you.”

The crudeness has you shuddering and your legs tightening around his hips. “Eh, you’re not that bad.”

His fingers ghosts over your ribs and before you can fully realize what he’s up to, it’s too late.

“DIN!”

He continues his attack on you, tickling your sides as you writhe and wither beneath him in heavy fits of laughter. His own, though softer than yours, joins yours and this—these moments are nothing but treasure to you; better than any quarry, any job, any credit, and you find in this precious time how much you truly appreciate and love him.

“A-alRIGHT alright stop I yield I yield!”

Din finally, finally stops and lets you pant as your body settles from it’s electric shock. His hands travel down the slope of your body, stopping at the soft fat of your thighs and gripping, pulling you impossibly closer; your hips clash, his half-hard erection grinding against your clothed pussy, making you moan quietly at the delicious friction.

His unruly curls brush against your forehead as he leans down to give you a kiss. You moan into it, opening your mouth and accepting his tongue with an less than equal match, but you’re more than happy to lose to this battle. Your hips move against his, picking up a steady rhythm as you feel him become harder. When his lips disconnect from yours, you whine and tug at his hair to bring him back; he growls and meets your desperate kiss with a bite to your lip.

“Take off your shirt.” He orders you.

You don’t hesitate to tear the flimsy fabric up and over your head and behind him. Your nipples perk under the cold draft that seems to always come naturally with the ship and a light tap to your hip indicates that you need to lift them. Once you’re out of your pants, you hear him start to work on his, all the while one of his hands cups your now bare cunt; he whistles softly at the pool of juices gaping from your entrance.

“Maker.” He whispers, almost in awe you think. “Already so fucking wet and I’ve barely touched you.”

His thumb circles around your clit, causing your hips to lightly buckle into his touch. “Just for you, daddy.”

Din groans and dips a finger into your pussy as reward. You moan at the slight stretch, his thumb unwavering in its tease.

“I don’t think I can wait, not this time mesh’la.” He gasps and you hear a slickness that’s both coming from your pussy and him as he thrusts his cock into his hand; at least, that’s what you’re assuming, given that you still can’t really see.

“I-it’s okay.” You whisper wantonly. “I’m ready. I just need you.”

You blink and next thing you know, you’re flipped onto your hands and knees, his hand pressing down on your neck. You take the hint and lay your head down on your pillow, clutching at whatever you can find to anchor you, thrusting your ass against his hips; the tip of his slippery head slides against your cheeks, earning you a hearty moan from the man above.

“Your ass is perfect cyar'ika.” He praises with a slap. You whimper and wiggle your legs, spreading them even further apart. “A needy little one, aren’t you?” Another slap, this time harder than the first.

“Y-yes daddy.” You whine.

“‘Course you are.” He seems to mumble to himself.

Before you can say something, anything at all, you hear a lewd squelch—that doesn’t come from your pussy this time—and his hand slides up your slick folds, an extra warmth and wetness coating your cunt and mixing with your juices. Your knuckles are probably pale white by now with how hard you’re clutching the blanket and you’re about to scream at him to do something to you before you implode by your own horniness; it’s been a while for you, too.

Without any warning, he thrusts into you with one, smooth motion. You cry out as he sinks into you until he can bottom out, holding himself deep within you as he attempts to calm down as you adjust.

“Move daddy.” You beg. “Please.”

Din moans, shuddering and already panting when he slowly pulls out until the tip is in and thrusts back inside with a hard snap of his hips that sends your body forwards; his heavy grip on your hips holds you steady. You mewl as he does it again, each thrust harder and harder until the slaps of skin against skin echoes throughout the cockpit. Your pussy envelopes him, welcomes him back into your slick and tight canal until he’s a moaning mess.

“Ma—oh Din.” He stops, taking a breath and shifting his hips. That gets him to hit that spot inside you. “Shit ri—Din that’s so good, keep going.”

“Yeah?” He grunts and scoots closer to you so that his thighs are pressed tightly against the back of yours. “Gonna cum, little girl? G-gonna—kriff.”

The coil in your lower stomach is already burning you. His thick, long and beautiful cock stretching you, hitting every spot inside you that either gets you closer to your impending orgasm or hits your cervix rather painfully, but it’s a welcome pain that the pleasure he’s giving you easily soothes.

“Y-you-r pussy is so fucking tight.” It sounds like he’s talking through gritted teeth. “So w-warm and tight. Clenching around me—”

You moan loudly and reach an arm behind you to grab on to his thigh, digging your nails into the hot skin as he stutters in his thrusts; you can feel him pulsing and twitching inside you, every vein and wrinkle scratching against your walls. You clench down on him as it starts to feel impossible to breathe, incomprehensible and nonsense babble escaping your lips like a dam broken and your legs shaking under the weight of your release. Your clit throbs without any attention, and you have to beg him,

“Please please daddy, touch me.”

“I—shit I am, princess.”

“No,” you whine, tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggle to find the words you’re looking for. It doesn’t help the intense and welcoming pressure building deep in your core, travelling through your pussy. “My—my clit, Din. Touch me, use me daddy.”

He stops deep inside you and leans over and down so that you feel his hair on your face again before he kisses you. They’re short, sloppy pecks, but satisfying. He pulls away and fits his hand underneath you, cupping your pussy—to the point where he can feel his slick dick push into you on the tips of his fingers—and circles your aching bundle of nerves with a rough thumb.

“I’m—” Your throat is closing up and your tummy coils with the boiling need that’s overwhelming in its nature and fuckfuckfuck everything is going white—

“That’s it. That’s it little girl, cum all over me.” He rasps.

You do. The pressure is blazing and your cunt holds no restraints against his weeping cock, desperate to find his own release. It feels too good, impossibly and otherworldly good, and your lower body follows the rest of yours as you finally fall. Din still thrusts inside you, faster and practically putting all his weight on your lower back as he holds you down.

“Shit—princess I’m cumming.” He growls, harshly and deafeningly.

“Yes. Yes.” You encourage with breathless whines. You do your best to move with him, and after a few more thrusts he abruptly pulls out and spills all over your ass, painting the pudgy red flesh with pearls as he whimpers and groans; the soft splats of his hand around his cock and his cum spilling onto you makes you twitch and your cunt clench painfully and tearfully around nothing.

Din falls down next to you, panting along with you. You stay on your stomach, too tired and fucked out to move, feeling his cum dribble down your ass cheeks; some even drips down to your wet, abused pussy.

He says your name. It’s quiet and calm, and your eyes droop as you mumble, “Yeah?”

“Think you have another in you?”

You grin. “Always, daddy.”

Tags: @scarlett-berserker, @justlovetoreadfics, @lil-baby27, @mando-vibes, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch, @im-the-music-whore, @certifiedhunter, @softpedropascal, @domino-oh-damn, @okaydacre, @lemongrove, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd, @elusive-ivory, @dizzydazed, @bluejeancntrygrl, @dadzawas-eyebags, @moonstruck-witchy @our-mrlangdon, @parody-the-emi, @evalynanne, @purplewaterbird, @vikingqueen28, @tedpicklez, @blunt-cake-yes, @agoldin, @lustriix, @readsalot73, @kateb013, @eupphoriaaa, @imalovernotahater, @everything-lost-and-unsaid, @dlmafa1, @hoodedbirdie, @drunkenliterary, @fioccodineveautunnale, @fangirlfree, @mrsparknuts, @amarvelousmandalorian, @ironheart-hanako, @bunniotomia, @thisisthe-way, @sando-rann, @meganoid1997, @adikaofmandalore, @cahooter, @charliepeaceout, @dreamgirl-67, @phoenixhalliwell, @acrylics-and-sunshine, @sunkissed-winter, @oloreaa, @equalstrashflavoredtrash, @dyn-djarin

#i love you all #STAY SAFE AND BE CAREFUL #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x plussize reader #the mandalorian x plus!size reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #star wars #fanfic #beautiful

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