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succubusmunson · 11 months

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Blood Sport

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: No matter how fast you run or how good you hide, Eddie will always find you and claim you as his prize.

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), kas/vamp!eddie, reader being hunted, cnc, eddie calling reader bunny, pet names, name calling, blood, blood consumption, lord of biting, teasing, begging, mocking, spanking, face and pussy slapping, oral (f and m receiving), ball play, rimming (f receiving), fingering, panties used as gag, overstimulation, slight orgasm denial, unprotected sex, creampie

WC: 5.5K

(i hope y’all enjoy this wild ride!)

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Your bare feet mushed into the muddy ground below you, adrenaline shooting through you and taking full control of your body. You had no clue where you were going, just anywhere to get away from him.

He had whispered the word run in your ears, and you took off and never looked back like your life had depended on it. Soon enough, he’ll be after you, tracking you like some wild animal.

The forest may have been huge, but at this moment, it’s never felt so small. There weren't many places to hide, trees only covering you so much, and no sheds to bunker down in. He would find you eventually, taking you as his prize. Even during the thick night air, he could still see your form running from him. The hunt of it all was the best part, the anticipation of when you would get caught made you run a little slower.

Eddie gave you a head start, even though he always seemed to catch up no matter how far ahead of him you were. You could be seconds or minutes away, and before you knew it, it would be right behind you, taunting you.

You could hear him now, his heavy boots stomping closer and closer to you.

“Come out, come out wherever you are, bunny.” His voice dripped with lust and need. The deepness of his voice had goosebumps forming over your skin, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. If he caught you, the game would be over. You’d be his prize, and he would take you however he wanted, wherever he wanted. “You can’t hide forever, not when I can smell you.”

And he was right. You were sweaty, sure to have blood scratches from thorn bushes, and soaked from the muggy air. He could smell you no matter how far you got. Your scent always lingered, keeping you close.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and your lungs burned from running, but you couldn’t stop now. Just a little longer, and you could rest, let your body relax for just a moment.

“Why don’t you be nice and come out to play?” You hid behind a tree, hoping to be out of his view completely.

You held a hand over your mouth, trying to suppress how noisy your deep breaths of air were.

The fallen branches from trees crunched under his feet; the moon illuminated his giant shadow. Eddie was close, but you had the chance to get away, to slip out from underneath him.

He came face to face with you, his eyes red and his fangs shining in the moonlight. “Gotcha!”

You took off running, slipping on the wet ground below you. He had caught you too soon, but you still had a lot of fight left in you.

“Get back here, bunny!” Eddie’s voice boomed over the window and night animals. You almost stopped dead in your tracks, but you couldn’t give up that easily.

You ducked behind a bush, looking through the twigs to try and see how close he was to you. Now that you got to rest for a quick minute is when you realize just how much your feet and legs hurt. Your breaths were coming out in fast pants. Maybe you didn’t have as much fight as you thought you did.

Eddie was nowhere in your line of sight, and you thought that maybe he had taken off in another direction. That was until you felt a hot breath fan over your ear and a deep chuckle.

“You think you can get away from me that easily?” His big arms wrapped around you, pulling you off from the ground. You wailed, threw punches against his chest, anything to get away though the punches did nothing, didn’t stir him one bit.

He covered your mouth and slammed the front of you against a tree, the bark pinching and scraping at your face. “Naughty little thing, running from me like that.”

“P-please…” you looked to the side at him, your voice muffled, your eyes big, round, and full of innocence. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

Eddie runs the tip of his nose up the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent more. “Now that I’ve got you in my arms, I can smell just how soaked you really are.” He bunches your dress around your waist, his cold fingers ghosting over the warm skin of your thighs, and pulls your flimsy panties to the side. The crisp night air hits your exposed cunt, sending a shiver down your spine. “Bet my cock would slide so easily into your pretty, little cunt, yeah?”

Your blood was coursing through your veins, and Eddie could hear it. He ran his tongue over his sharp teeth, debating on taking a bite. One small bite couldn’t hurt, could it?

Without a second thought, Eddie sunk his teeth into your neck. He sucked, just enough to get the smallest test of your sweet, crimson blood. Another small bite here, another small bite there, nothing too serious to hurt you. He let out a long, low groan that vibrated his chest.

Your blood trickled down your neck as you moaned and whimpered. This shouldn’t be feeling as good as it did. Eddie licked up the small amount of blood, making sure to get every last drop, his tongue pressed against your skin. The pain mixed with pleasure made your cunt drip, your thighs becoming stickier than before.

That didn’t go unnoticed either, Eddie catching on quickly. One of his thick fingers dipped inside your cunt before quickly slipping out. “Just as I thought, you love the pain.”

When you looked at him, you noticed his stained teeth and lips, your blood dripping from them, making them all shiny.

You whined and closed your eyes, trying to think about anything other than him. Eddie was giving in to what your body needed, what it craved. Your body was betraying you. This isn’t what you wanted, or was it? The smallest touch of his fingers had your pussy clenching around nothing, aching to be filled and pumped full of cum.

“Oh, so you wanna be full of cum?” Eddie’s nails raked up and down your thigh, taking his finger and barely rubbing against your swollen clit.

You gasped, digging your fingers into the tree you were pushed up against. “N-no. I just…”

“N-No? You sound so pathetic, bunny.” He mocked your whines with a smirk. “Just say you do. There’s no denying just how bad you want me when your cunt is dripping for me.”

You tried to shake your head, but he pressed it more into the tree. “Let me go, please.” Tears welled in your eyes, slowly falling down your cheeks. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry. You know that just makes me wanna fuck you more,” Eddie pressed his body into yours, his hard, clothed cock against your bare ass. You could feel it throb against you, your body instinctively grinding against him. “I’m going to have so much fun with you, and you’re going to take it all.”

Shaking your head, you tried to push away from him, but it was no use. Eddie had super strength; you weren’t going anywhere. You were stuck, and you had to give in and let him do whatever was on his dark mind.

“Yes, sir.” Your voice was weak, strained.

You watched as he retracted his large hand before coming back down with a hard spank on your ass. Your skin jiggled, your mouth falling agape. “Speak up.”

“Y-yes! Yes, sir.”

“Shit, you’re already following rules so easily.” Eddie finally let up, pulling your body away from the tree. He spun you around so that now you were facing his tall form. “On your knees, pretty girl.”

He didn’t give you time to act, putting his hand on the top of your head and pushing you down. You quickly fell to your knees, the leaves crunching under them.

With shaky hands, you reached up for his belt, slowly undoing it. Eddie watched you with his dark eyes. Seeing how nervous you were only made him harder, his cock twitching in his jeans.

You ran your hand over the prominent bulge, dragging your nails across it. Eddie took a deep inhale, his chest heaving. It was taking everything out of him not to rush you, but he wanted to take his time with you and let it all linger.

Your hands worked on the zipper and button next. The pounding in your heart was harder, faster. His cock was so close to being down your throat, and your mouth watered for it.

Slowly, you pulled down his pants, taking his boxers with them, just enough for his cock and balls to hang out. His cock sprang forward, tip an angry red and leaking with precum. You watched as he spat into his hand and wrapped it around his cock. The precum kept bubbling out his slit, dribbling down his knuckles as he pumped his cock with his hand, the schlick sound becoming louder.

You couldn’t help but lick your lips.

Eddie grabbed the base of his cock, rubbing the tip along your lips, smearing the precum. “You take too fucking long.” He nudged his cock past your lips, rubbing it along your waiting tongue.

You whined as he shoved his cock in your mouth, your tongue gliding along the thick vein that rested on the underside. The salty taste of his precum flooded your taste buds.

“Shh, shh,” he ran a soothing thumb down your cheek before holding your head in place. “You just sit there and look pretty while I fuck your face, okay?”

Before you knew it, his cock was fully seated in your throat, and you were gagging around it, spit blubbering out the corners of your mouth. More tears spilled down your cheeks, coating them in smeared mascara.

“Fuuuck- such a good mouth, just had to put it to use.” Eddie slowly thrust his hips back and forth, his cock fucking in and out of your mouth. You couldn’t help but close your eyes and get lost in the feeling of the tip gliding across your tongue. “You like this, don’t you? Being used like my own personal fleshlight?”

You tried to answer, opening your mouth wider, but all that came out were whines and gags. Tears kept falling down your cheeks, drool dripping down your cheek. Eddie’s cock was making your throat raw, and you could already feel the burn that would surely linger there for days to come. You wouldn’t be surprised if there was already a bruise forming.

“What was that?” He guided your head down his cock, your nose now pressed against the small thatch of curls at the base of his cock and his balls wetly pressed against your chin. “Shit- Couldn’t hear you with my cock stuffed down your throat.”

He squeezed his eyes shut as he held you in place, letting his cock drag in and out of your mouth. Your gags and the soft squelch of your throat contracting around him echoed into the night. Nothing would ever feel as good as your pussy, but this was a close second for him.

Your nails dug into his clothed thigh, inaudibly begging for some air. When Eddie pulled your mouth off his cock, salvia strung from your lips to the tip, mixing perfectly with his precum.

Eddie ran a hand down your cheeks, wiping away the tears that ran down your face. You looked so pretty when you cried for him, whether it was from all his teasing or his cock being shoved into one of your holes. He loved to see you cry for him.

Deep breaths filled your lungs, and you sighed at the bit of relief you felt. The relief didn’t last long, though. Eddie was guiding your face toward his cum filled balls, dragging them over your lips.

“Open up for me, baby. J-just like that.” Eddie had to brace a hand against the tree when you took the heavy sack into your warm mouth, rolling your wet tongue over the velvety skin. He could’ve cum right then and there. “You’re doing such a good job for me, yeah? Just a good little slut for me to use.”

You moaned around his balls in appreciation before sucking them into your mouth. Your tongue cradled them as you slobbered, your spit dripping down your chin and onto your chest.

Pulling back, you let his balls fall from your mouth long enough to spit on them. You reached up and cradled them in your hand for a moment, rolling them around your fingers before you sucked them back into your mouth. The whole time, your eyes never left Eddie’s. You wanted him to see you, watch you.

“Jesus Christ, look at you.” Eddie took his spit-covered cock in his hand, slowly stroking it over your face. He ground his hips against you, the sensitive tip of his cock rubbing against your forehead, precum bubbling out of the slit and into your hair. “Gonna make me fucking cum all over that pretty face of yours, bunny.”

His balls fell deeper into your mouth, your throat gargling around them. That was the moment that he lost control.

Eddie pulled your head away and looked down at your swollen lips, tongue out, ready to catch every drop and tear-stained face. He squeezed at the tip of his cock before throwing his head back with a sharp inhale. Cum shot from the slit. His hips stuttered as his hand shook, “shit, shit!”

Your tongue caught what it could, not swallowing until Eddie could see what a good job you did. The rest hit your face, covering your chin and cheeks.

He slowly looked back down at you, a proud smile on his face. “Swallow. All of it.”

You downed every drop, making a show of it and licking your lips once you were done.

“Let’s clean you up.” Eddie collected what had fallen on your face with his rough fingers before sliding them into your mouth. You sucked them clean, making sure nothing went to waste.

“What do you say?”

“T-thank you, sir.” You shyly looked up at him. You’d do anything to please him.

He shoved his still-hard cock back into its confines before shrugging off his jacket and laying it on the ground beside you. You caught on to what he was wanting and laid down on his jacket, your legs bent at the knees.

“Don’t even have to tell you what I want anymore,” he lay on the ground, his face right next to your aching cunt. “She’s ready for anything, isn’t she?”

You felt Eddie slowly drug your panties down your legs. Once they were completely off, you closed your legs back, sitting up on your elbows. “Wait, wait.”

Eddie jumbled up your panties and reached an arm up to shove them in your mouth. “Sometimes you talk too damn much.” The same arm that shoved the panties in your mouth also shoved you back down to his jacket, forcing you still.

To take extra measure, he grabbed both of your wrists and held them in his rough, strong hand. He was making sure that you could get away or take your panties out of your mouth.

You had no protest at all because once your back hit the jacket, Eddie had your legs gripped tightly in his hands, the air from his lungs blowing against your swollen clit.

“Mmm- mmm,” you tried to moan, but the sounds were completely muffled by your panties.

“Just relax,” he bit at your thighs, switching back and forth between them. You could feel the blood trickle down to the ground below you, but not before Eddie was licking it up. He let the blood linger on his tongue, savoring just how good you tasted before swallowing it. “As much as I’d love to drain you dry, I’d much rather keep you alive, so I slowly drink from you.”

All you could do was whine and dig your fingers into the palm of your hands. He had barely touched you, and you were already silently begging for more. Every part of you ached for some kind of friction, a touch, a rub, anything at this point.

Eddie watched as you clenched around nothing, looking for him to touch you. He thought it was cute how much your body wanted him.

Just as you were about to beg (as much as you could with your panties in your mouth), Eddie licked a long strip up your cunt, from your needy hole to your clit. Your head fell back against his jacket as you let out a deep exhale.

“Can’t get enough of that taste,” again and again, he licked at your clit, just enough pressure to have you whining. “You want more, huh?”

God, you wanted to scream at the top of your lungs how much you needed more.

“Oh, that’s right,” he kissed around your clit, smirking against you when you let out a frustrated huff. “You can’t talk.”

Deciding that you had enough teasing for now, Eddie finally wrapped his plump lips around your clit. A deep moan was pulled from you, and your eyes rolled back at the pleasure you were finally able to feel.

Your nails dig deeper into your hands the more he sucks on your clit, his teeth grazing it, making you arch your back. The palms of your hands were sure to be bright red tomorrow. You wish you could moan louder, let him hear just how he was making you feel, but he knew. Your cunt was soaked, dripping on his jacket below. It was so easy for him to see how good you were feeling.

“Every part of you tastes so fucking amazing.” Lick, lick, lick. “Your cunt, your ass, your blood.” He used his thumbs to spread your pussy lips apart, licking his lips when your slick strung between them.

Eddie dove back, licking all over your cunt, soaking his face in you. Your muffled moans grew louder with each lick and suck. Somehow, you were already close, and Eddie knew, could feel it in the throb of your clit. That only egged him on more.

He slid his tongue into your beckoning cunt, making sure to swirl it around. Your chest heaved, and the pounding in your heart felt harder. Eddie moaning against you didn’t help at all—the vibrations making your head spin in the best way.

Eddie's skilled tongue was making sure you were going to cum on his face, licking deeper than you ever thought possible and fucking in and out of you so fast that you you couldn’t focus on anything. His nose nudged at your clit and it was taking everything out of you not to rip your hands from his and pull on his hair.

Your thighs had started to shake, and he let your hands go. He used both hands to run up the back of the thighs before bending your knees into your chest, giving him more room to do whatever he wanted to your cunt.

Eddie dipped his tongue lower, circling it around your puckered hole. Your hole clenched around his tongue, wanting him to go deeper. You screamed around your panties as the tip of his tongue dipped inside you over and over again.

Shaky fingers raked through his hair before pulling, trying to get him as close to you as possible.

Eddie licked back and forth between your cunt and ass before he took your clit back into his mouth and shook his head back and forth. His eyes never left yours, even when your cunt was in your mouth. He wanted to see you come undone on his face.

One more hard suck at your clit was all it took before you were cumming all over his face. Your cries were muffled, your legs shaking in Eddie’s hand. You couldn’t focus on anything other than your orgasm running through your body, making each hair stand up and your back arch so far off the jacket below you that you could almost reach the night sky.

“Mmmmph!” Your hips ground against Eddie's face as you kept cumming, and he didn’t stop, even once you were finished. Your whole body felt like it was on fire in the best way.

Eddie groaned loudly against your cunt. The feeling of your cum against his tongue and face was enough to have his cock twitching in his pants, making a mess of them.

You ripped your panties from your mouth and threw them somewhere behind you, not caring where they ended up. “E-Eddie!”

He pulled away, the moon making your cum shine on his face. “Sound like an angel when you say my name.” His fingers circled your cunt, making you gasp. You were already so sensitive from one orgasm, but you knew he was just getting started. “Too bad you’re nothing but a needy slut.”

Eddie’s hand left your cunt, reaching up to the top of your dress, it now bunched around your belly and pulled it down enough so that your tits fell out. Your nipples immediately hardened, the cold air making them stiff.

“Look so good like this,” he slowly kissed up your body, making sure to bite every so often. Eddie stopped at your hips, biting at each one until he was sure they’d stung.

Once Eddie had kissed his way to your chest, he took one nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue softly around it. His fingers squeezed and pulled at the other nipple, pulling the cutest whimpers from you.

You bit your lip when you felt his teeth dig into your nipple and pull on it before letting it go. “Feels so good.”

“Of course it does.” He forced your legs back open with his hand, sliding his fingers through your sticky pussy lips. You gasped, grabbing ahold of his wrist. “Awe, you wanna cum again?”

You nodded your head quickly, barely letting him finish his question. “Yes, I wanna cum as many times as you’ll let me.”

“How cute.” Slap! Your cunt stung, his rings catching against your clit, and you tried to close your legs, but Eddie was much stronger than you. Slap! “Beg for it.”

“Fucking- Eddie, please! I’ll do-

Slap! Slap! Slap! “I don’t wanna hear how you do anything I’ll say. Think of something better.”

More tears flowed down your cheek for another time tonight as you tried to think of the words to stay. You didn’t know what to say, you just knew you wanted to cum again, and you were getting impatient.

“Just- please! I’ll be such a good slut for you, and I promise to let you do whatever you want to me. Just let me cum again.”

“Now, was that so hard?” Eddie finally slid his fingers into your waiting cunt, and you immediately clenched around them.

“Thank you, thank you.” You spread your legs further, making it easier for him to slot himself back between them.

His fingers curled right against your g-spot, and you could already feel your second orgasm fast approaching. “You’re about to cum this quick?” Eddie tutted at you, curling his fingers over and over again. “Better hold it in.”

“I-I can't, I can't!” You shook your head, your toes already curling.

With a heavy hand, Eddie smacked each of your thighs, immediately causing them to burn in such a blissful way. “You can and you will.”

Eddie knew how badly you wanted to cum, and he also knew how to skillfully use his fingers to edge you and make you hold it in. You were sure that if you didn’t listen, the inevitable would happen, and you wouldn’t cum again.

“Now, are you gonna listen and hold it in? Or do I have to stop touching you all together?” His fingers slowed down as he waited for you to answer.

“I’ll hold it in!” You grit your teeth, trying to find a distraction while Eddie toys with your sopping-wet cunt.

You could hear how wet you were, your pussy squelching around Eddie’s fingers the more they pumped in and out of you. His pace was slow, making sure to drag at the pleasure, helping you hold your orgasm at bay as long as you could.

“Whose pussy is this, huh?” Eddie had moved so his whole body weight was pressed into you, his forehead resting against yours. “I wanna hear you fucking say it.”

“Y-yours.” Your voice was weak as you stumbled on the words, finding it hard to focus when his fingers felt so good.

“You’re gonna have to speak up, bunny.” He pulled his fingers out of your cunt long enough to slap your cunt again. You were sure that it was going to be bruised in the morning.

“Yours! It’s your fucking pussy, sir- oh my god!” You were so sensitive, so needy that you almost came right then and there.

Easily, his fingers slid back into you, your eyes rolling back. You clenched around them, your orgasm fast approaching again. “Eddie…”

As soon as he felt you were about to cum again, he pulled his fingers out. You watched as they dripped in your juices, hitting your thigh.

“Open up for me,” Eddie traced his wet fingers against your soft lips, waiting patiently. He dragged his fingers across your tongue, making you clean up the mess you made on them. “Don’t you taste so good?”

You wrapped your lips around his fingers, bobbing your head as your tongue swirled around them. Your doe eyes looked up at him as they silently begged him to fill you up again with his fingers, giving you a chance to cum.

“How can I say no to those beautiful eyes?” Eddie’s fingers trailed down your body, tracing over your nipples before dipping lower and lower. They ghosted over your clit, rubbing just enough for you to feel something. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

“Yes- oh fuck.” He caught you off guard, sliding in three thick fingers and filling you up just like you wanted. Your cunt sucked in his fingers, tightening round them. “R-right there.”

The pads of his fingers rubbed perfectly against your g-spot, making you see stars behind your eyelids. “Right here?” Teasingly, he grazed his fingers over the spot again, and you couldn’t hang on any longer.

You were so sensitive from your first orgasm that this one was coming fast. There was no stopping it this time.

Your legs clamped around his arm as you heard yourself cum before you felt it. You gushed around his hand, soaking everything below you and Eddie in the process. You bit at your lip so hard you could taste blood. “Fuck- Eddie!”

His name left your mouth like a repeated prayer, his fingers not stopping until you felt your juices drip down the crack of your ass.

“Shit, look at the mess you made.” Eddie pulled his fingers from your overly sensitive cunt, watching as they dripped more than they did before. The sheen of your cum shined brightly in the moonlight.

You watched with bright eyes as he pulled out his cock and balls again, it still leaking with precum. Your mouth watered at the sight before you.

One of Eddie’s hands ran up your body, stopping to tightly wrap his fingers around your neck. “You know you made me cum in my pants while I was eating you out?” His other hand grabbed the base of your cock, dragging in through your wet folds. “Now it’s my turn to cum and fill up your pussy just like you wanted.”

You whimpered at his words, reaching down to spread your pussy lips apart as the tip of his cock caught on your clit. “God, yes, I've been needing it so bad.”

“Is that so?” Eddie barely slid the tip in, but it was enough for the both of you to moan in unison. “Will never get over how tight your pussy is, bunny.”

The hand wrapped around your throat had you gasping for air, but you just smirked. “Please, fuck me.”

“You want to be filled with my cum that bad?” Eddie grabbed hold of your hip, lifting you off his jacket so you were resting in his lap. “Work for it.”

You couldn’t help but moan at his words as you slowly started to grind your hips against his. Your body weight was on your hands as you used them for leverage.

His cock moved slowly in and out of you, Eddie’s eyes never leaving where the two of you were connected. “Look how good you take my cock.”

Eddie helped you and guided your hips back and forth, his jeans roughly rubbing against your ass. “Can’t give everything to you easily, can I?”

Your head rolled back as you whined out for him. The slow drag of his cock was just enough to set your body on fire. “A-am I doing good for you, sir?”

“Doing so good, just keep doing that, sweetheart.” His hand tightened around your neck as you gasped for air, your hips still grinding against him. “Just taking what you want from me, aren’t you, slut?”

“F-fuck, uhuh!” The burning in your hips started, but that didn’t stop you. The squeeze of his hand around your neck and the throbbing of his cock inside of you egged you on. “Oh my god!”

“Pussy was made for my fucking cock.” Eddie spat on your cunt, his thumb rubbing it along your clit. “Gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

His thumb kept rubbing at your clit as your cunt ground back and forth along his cock. You’d leave only the tip in before slamming down on the rest of his cock. The two of you groaned and moaned in unison, both close to cumming.

Your tits bounced with the grind of your hips, Eddie’s eyes transfixed on them as if you had him in some sort of spell.

“You’re a fucking goddess.” His eyes trailed up your neck, stopping to look and admire your face. Your lips were plump from all the biting, sweat beading on your forehead. “You look so good when you're fucked out, drunk on my cock.”

You couldn’t say anything, words completely leaving you. Your mind was complete mush, his cock the only thing on it. At this point, you’d say anything to him just to cum.

Eddie’s hand let go of your neck to slap your face, bringing you back to him. “Feels too good, doesn’t it?” His smirk is brighter than it has been before.

“Y-yes,” you ground your hips faster, chasing your release. “Your cock feels so good!”

Both of his hands pinned your hips back to the ground, pulling out. You whined but quickly shut up when he slammed back into your cunt. Your whines now turn into pleasurable screams.

“I can’t take it anymore.” His hips crash into yours at a bruising pace, his balls wetly hitting against your ass. “I got fucking cum.”

You arched your back, grabbing his hands and squeezing them as you kept screaming. “Please turn me, Eddie- please!”

Eddie looked down at you, his cock bulging in your belly with each thrust. Your words replayed over and over in his head, the thought making his cock throb hard inside you. “Bunny- Shit! Gonna cum in this pretty pussy.”

“Give it to me, Eddie.” You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you. “Need you to cum inside me, fill me up until it's dripping out.”

His eyes got darker as he leaned down, attaching his lips to your neck. What started as sloppy kisses turned into a hard bite. His teeth puncture your sweaty skin, your blood seeping into his mouth.

Your toes curled, and you pulled on his hair, the bite being enough to make you cum so hard your body convulses. You couldn’t see anything, your vision going totally white. “I-oh, my god! Oh my fuck- Eddie!”

Eddie groaned loudly against your skin as he finally pulled his teeth from the two holes that adorned your neck. The taste of your blood, the clenching of your cunt as you came around his cock. He couldn’t take it anymore. You can feel his hard pants against your neck and his cock cumming inside you with a twitch.

He whispered your name as he kept cumming, spilling everything he had inside you. “That’s it, take it fucking all.”

Your cunt milked him for all he was worth.

The only thing heard over the animals in the night was heavy breathing, the two of you spent.

Your body felt sore, weak, and used by the time Eddie had pulled out of you, causing you to wince at the sensation. You couldn’t see him, too tired to open your eyes, but you could hear him move around you, fixing your dress so it sat just right and picking you up so he could cradle you into his arms.

You felt weak, the bite on your neck stinging more than it had before.

“I promise that you’ll feel better in the morning,” Eddie placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. The total opposite of how he was just acting with his cock inside you. “Just rest for now.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fic #vamp!eddie #kas!eddie #vamp!eddie x reader #kas!eddie x reader

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miss-bridget · 6 months

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Single White (Fe)male.

The months of online flirting led to this moment…..a meet up in the city. He was a commanding and kinky individual…you, were a keen submissive. Your crossdressing days were few and far between….limited now to occasional panty wearing under your normal clothes, or sometimes digging your old heels out and trying not to fall over around the house. He was explicit though…you were to fully dress up for him. He even took your measurements and sure enough, as you entered the hotel room, everything was there. The accompanying note told you he was running some extra errands and would be at least an hour or so…..but it gave you time to get ready.

The thrilling feel of the red lacy panties were equal to the feel of the nude pantyhose as you slipped them on. The dress was predictably slutty….a shiny affair with laces up the front….even the fake tits he got you weren’t outlandishly large. The high heels were nice, a simple shiny black pair with a good height. The wig was dark brown, complimenting your own colouring, your make up was a tad trashy, as you were a little out of practice. The fake lashes were the nightmare, but you eventually got them on and you stood….a surreal feeling as you saw the reflection staring back. Your slim figure looked good in the dress and although you weren’t going to win Drag Race, you believed you were acceptable. You took your seat on the bed and practiced crossing your legs….you weren’t a kid and the hips weren’t quite as supple as they used to be, but you managed to remain ladylike.

The door opened and your date walked in. Tall, bearded and wearing an immaculate navy pinstripe suit. His shirt was a pale grey with herringbone pattern and he wore shiny leather oxfords and equally shiny leather gloves….he was clutching a small bag which he set on the bed. He smiled and kissed you on the cheek, with the gloved hand lingering on your neck. He told you that all the things you shared in your messages would be made a reality, but you needed a few final things to complete your look. He lifted your dress and nodded approvingly at the flimsy underwear…..patting the bulge you tried to control. A good girl needed to conceal their unwanted ‘extras’ and he ordered you to stand. He fished around in the bag and within moments you felt the rope being tied around your wrists. You hissed as the material bit into your flesh, but you stood still as he restrained you. His bondage appetite was no secret as he guided you into the bathroom.

You were positioned in front of the mirror, with your man standing behind you. The pantyhose was now pulled down and his hand snaked around to your cock. You tensed as his gloved hand grabbed you roughly and started to milk you….his other hand tightly over your mouth as you squirmed in his grasp. He made sure you saw everything as you, dressed like a slut was being taken in hand…panties almost around your knees along with your nylons. You grunted and moaned behind the gloved hand gag and finally you orgasmed. It felt like he was draining you dry….his touch was strong and you slumped as the last drops of cum were being extracted. He removed his hand from your mouth and you were breathing heavily. The panties were taken off and he wiped you clean with them, before putting them on the sink….clearly he had plans for them. You certainly didn’t expect the roll of black electrical tape to be produced and used to seal the warm, cum soaked underwear in your mouth….with your wrists bound you couldn’t stop him and you whined pathetically as the crushing tape was pulled tight around your mouth and head.

Satisfied at your muzzling, he got more rope and he spent plenty of time ensuring the rest of your body was secured. You sat propped up against the wall as the final accessories were produced. You could only lie weakly struggling as the gleaming cock cage was locked on and the vibrating plug went up your tight ass. The jolt of the toy started to work you deeply and you blushed under the gag as you let out a soft moan….your aching cock was pushed against its prison. Your new Master promised he would show you a good time, but the differences between being a CD and a true sissy needed to be understood. But you weren’t going anywhere in a hurry.

#cd #glam girl #caught sissy #bound

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thran-duils · 3 years

Text

And Those I Can’t Charm, I Can Kill (P.1)

Title: And Those I Can’t Charm, I Can Kill (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mafia!Tony Stark. Too many fringe gangs were making ties and your father noticed. He reached out to the Stark mob for an alliance, offering up a piece of his territory at first. When Stark told him he had enough land, your father offered up the next best thing: you. He knew Stark needed a wife and what better way to solidify a relationship between the two mafia families? You were not naïve, you knew the life and you were trained with guns and negotiations. Your father had made sure of that. The two of you had seen each other on multiple occasions at mafia get togethers and knew of each other. Stark accepted the transaction but little did he know he was going to get a little hellion handed over to him that would not kiss the ground he walked on. He would grow to love it too. Words: 1,656 Warnings (more WILL be added, I am sure): Eventual smut, power dynamics, sexism, smut, public sex, fingering, dom/sub powerplay, kidnapping, violence, death, knife kink, gun kink, angst with a happy ending

Author’s Note: READ the intro! This chapter starts there.

Introduction || Part Two || Masterpost mobile || Fanfic masterpost

You barely remember the wedding ceremony. There had been no courting, no engagement whatsoever to speak of between you and your now husband, Tony Stark. Your marriage was a business transaction between him and your father. The ceremony had been short and sweet, the reception being the thing people were most concerned with and between your father and Tony, the food and drink had been exceptional. You had kept your head about you, not drinking too much, and turning down drugs that had been offered. Tony had done the same, much to your surprise. He was being as cautious about you as you were being about him in turn; neither wanted the other to get the jump on them.

A town car, driven by one of his men, had come at the end of your night to take the two of you to the airport to your honeymoon. On the drive, the car was quiet, the pair of you on your phones or looking out the window, with small comments about the reception sprinkled in. Neither of you were pretending this was anything more than it was at this point; you were practically strangers, only having crossed paths a couple times a year before now.

Plus, you were not inclined to speak with him considering what you had been told by one of your bridesmaids. Tony had apparently been bragging about how he was going to get you into bed on the honeymoon. One of your girlfriends had happened to overhear him speaking to a handful of his men in what was supposed to be a private conversation. There had been comment from another about your ‘rack’ looking ‘delectable’ in your wedding gown and that term had made you gag. Another told him it should be ‘easy’ to get you on your back considering your reputation for clubbing. You despised the men in this business sometimes.

He had not gotten you into bed on the honeymoon. Much to his extreme annoyance; he had trouble hiding his temper, that much you had figured out already. You had kept yourself occupied with local attractions and the pool for the weekend.

His mansion was foreign to you and even after a month, you had still not settled in. And he was still trying to strong arm you with his comments and behavior to be submissive. Just like he was doing right now with his trying to order you around to get him and his men drinks. Fat chance. You stayed relaxed on your floatie, hearing June, your personal favorite of the servants because she was not an idiot and could hold a good conversation, gathering up the champagne to take over to them.

<><><>

Later in the evening, you came out of your closet, finding Tony walking into his. He was uncuffing his dress shirt and he stopped seeing you.

“That’s a nice dress,” Tony commented, his eyes running over you quickly, eyes only lingering at the tight fabric around your hips for the briefest of moments. “Mind telling me where you’re going?”

“Out.”

“Y/N.” There was warning in his tone.

He had an annoying habit of tracking you whenever you left the house. Whether or not he thought you were going to betray the marriage deal, cheat on him, or he was just a control freak – the last being very likely considering the sexism in the mafia – you were unsure. But it drove you up the wall he wanted tabs on you all the time.

Sighing as you dug through your clutch to make sure you had everything you needed, you told him, “I’m going out with my friends.”

“Where?” he pressed.

“The Bungalow,” you answered seeing your friend texted that she was outside. “It’s in Santa Monica.”

Tony chewed on the inside of his cheek, staring you down. You looked up at his silence finding the glower being aimed at you.

“What?” you asked exasperated.

“Be back by midnight.”

“You’re not my fucking parent, Tony.”

Tony rose his eyebrows in annoyance at your tone. “No, you’re right. I’m your husband. And as your husband, I’m telling you I want you back home by midnight. It doesn’t look good if you’re out partying until 3:00 in the morning all the time. That shit is gonna stop sooner rather than later.”

“It’s almost 8:00 and it takes a half hour—”

Tony cut in, “Then it sounds like you better stop arguing with me and get going.”

Clenching your jaw, you turned away from him and stomped out of your bedroom.

“Maybe invite your friends here next time! It’s not like there’s not a bar and pool here,” you heard him call after you.

You were suppressing the urge to scream as you descended the staircase. Just because you were married did not mean your life had to end. In the hall, you ran into one of his guys, Bucky, meandering with a drink in hand. He spotted you and gave you a smile. You forced an extremely fake one for a split second before storming past him out the front door.

Instead of forcing your friend to have to drive you home so early in the night and cutting their fun short, you risked taking an Uber by yourself back home. There were still cars outside which meant mafia members were still over. It was ten after midnight. You had had half a mind to invite your friends home, prepared to throw Tony’s words back at him about the pool and the bar. But you were afraid that the mafia would still be here and that had proven to be a legitimate fear. Plus, if Tony had lost his temper, you did not want to put your friends in that awkward position of witnessing that.

You slammed the front door as loudly as you could and immediately made your way towards the kitchen to make yourself a stiff drink. Throwing your clutch onto the kitchen island, you kicked your shoes off as well, leaving them haphazardly on the tile. You could hear music and voices coming from down the hall in what you assumed was the billiard room.

The vodka cran was stiff just like you wanted, and you took a huge gulp, leaning on the counter.

Natasha walked into the kitchen, and she paused seeing you before smiling; you returned it weakly.

“Looking for the chip stash,” she told you as she moved towards the pantry. She rummaged around in there and emerged with a couple bags. She asked, “Are you going to join us?”

“No, thank you though,” you told her. “I’m gonna watch Netflix. That’s what people do when they’re forced home before midnight, right?”

Natasha looked uncomfortable and said, “I… suppose. Well, if you change your mind then we’re in the game room.”

“Thanks,” you said again and she left you there, like she could not wait to exit that awkward conversation.

<><><>

Tossing the chips on the table, Natasha told Tony, giving him a cringing look, “You really pissed Y/N off. You gave her a curfew?”

Bucky rose his eyebrows as he grabbed one of the bags. He slowly opened it, waiting for Tony to respond.

Tony looked down at his watch and realized it was in fact almost 12:30. He had lost track of the time. “She’s home, then?” Natasha nodded and he smirked in triumph. “Good.”

“So, did you?”

“She doesn’t need to be out dancing in clubs all the damn time now. It’s embarrassing and frankly insulting for me,” Tony responded. “She’s not available and she shouldn’t be acting as such. She’s got to respect me. If my own wife won’t, then what’s stopping everyone else from not doing it either?”

Natasha chewed on that and shrugged. “I can see that. But maybe you shouldn’t be so gloating about the fact she obeyed your rule. You should thank her for listening to you. Just my opinion. Might help melt down the ice a little bit.” Tony scowled and she pressed, “You know I’m right. Her coming back when you asked should build some trust, right?”

Tony said after a few beats, “In the morning.”

“No, now.”

“Who is whose boss, here?” Tony asked her, cocking his head incredulously.

She nudged him and he let out an exasperated sigh as he got up from the couch, putting his drink down on the table.

“You said you had next game right?” Rhodes asked as Tony walked by. He was playing against Wanda at the pool table.

“Yes, and I’m going to kick whoever’s ass it is,” Tony answered, leaving the room.

<><><>

Tony walked into the bedroom, finding you under the covers, watching Netflix.

You told him scornfully, “I know, I know. I was ten minutes late. I’m sorry. In my defense, I took an uber home because I didn’t wanna make Jasmine leave early. So, they got lost for a few.”

He held up his hand, his brows raised. “Easy, tiger. Ten minutes is not a huge issue. I was just… coming up to check on you.”

“Well, I’m fine,” you muttered, eyes going back to the television.

He pointed at your glass and asked, “Want a refill?” You eyed him suspiciously and he said, “Just asking.”

“No, thank you. I had enough at the bar, and this is gonna be my last.”

Tony nodded and said, “Right. Well, be sure to drink water before you go to bed. And thanks by the way… for listening to me and coming back on time.”

“You’re welcome…” you told him, confused as all hell at his out of left field behavior.

He nodded again and clapped his hands before turning on his heel and walking out.

“What the fuck?” you said under your breath to yourself.

Since when was he that calm?

Slowly, you sunk back into the pillows. You shot another look at the door, wondering what had gotten into him.

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl

Fic tags: @patheticallysentimental

#tony stark x reader #mafia!tony stark #mafia tony stark #mafia marvel #marvel fic #my shit

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axwalker · 3 years

Text

AFTER

I’ve never liked the way PB wrote everything that happens after Drake gets shot trying to save MC --they don’t even go to a freaking hospital!!

I think this might have been done before but I wanted to share my own version of it. I hope you enjoy it!

This is my contribution for DAY THREE OF TRRAW hosted by @trraw

This ONE-SHOT belongs to The Walker’s universe but it’s a stand alone. MASTERLIST HERE.

I hope you enjoy it!

Book and Pairing: TRR Drake x Alexis (MC)

Warnings: Shooting, coma.

ALL MY FICS ARE +18.

Words: 2,868

Disclaimer: All characters and some dialogues and places belong to Pixelberry.

Tagging perma:

@mskaneko @drakexwillow @burnsoslow @thegreentwin @kat-tia801

@gkittylove99 @no-one-u-know @twinkle-320 @forallthatitsworth @marshmallowsandfire @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @princessleac1

@twinkleallnight @tinkie1973 @moneyfordiamonds

DRAKE

My lungs draw in air, bringing consciousness and chaos rushing back to me. And pain. So much pain. My vision is blurred as if I’m underwater. I can’t move; I can hardly take some shallow breaths. Gunshots, screams, and fire sound through the ringing in my ears. My left arm is heavy with deep, piercing pain. I feel dizzy and disoriented, but I have to make sure where Lexie is. She has to be alive. I remember the gun pointing at her, and terror, as I’ve never known, invades me, carrying adrenaline through my blood.

“Lexie,” I croak. “Lexie!” My gaze darts all over, assessing. A pool of blood, seeping into the floor below me, freeze my veins. Please, God, don’t let it be her. I struggle to sit up, but the sharp pain stops me. Trembling, I turn to see the hole in the skin of my forearm, up to my elbow. The screaming starts again closer, and I realize that Alexis is not hurt.

My relief is short-lived when I realize Alexis’s crying inconsolably. She seems desperate; her hands are drenched, red. Her dress is soaked up in blood. For a minute, I panic again, but I realize it is my own blood she has all over her. I sigh, relieved, and try to tell her that I’m in fine, but I can’t get the words out of my mouth.

I struggle to stand up, but I feel someone or something trying to keep me pinned where I am. It’s not Lexie because she’s kneeled next to me. Telling me … something. I can’t hear her. Her hands go from my face to my chest and my hair. Huge tears are rolling from her eyes. Suddenly, her soothing touch stop, and I want to scream. Leo is holding her; she seems so broken. I want to take her in my arms, tell her that I’ll be okay, but I can’t speak.

Finally, my eyes fall shut under a wave of dizziness that I can’t avoid. The last thing I see is Alexis’s sad face before blackness comes down.

A thousand stars twinkle in the sky; I’m lying in the middle of the woods. Lexie is next to me, her small hand engulfed by mine. Despite the frosty wind, I feel warm, content for the first time in a long time. I want to stay here, like this, with her forever.

Suddenly, we’re back at the palace, and she’s in my arms. We’re swaying slowly at the rhythm of an old waltz, and I realize it’s the happiest moment of my life. Just moments ago, her warm body was writhing, moaning beneath me. She was mine.

Now she’s here. With me. You have to wake up now, she says. Please, Drake. Wake up, my love. I don’t understand what she’s talking about; I try to hold on to her, but she keeps crying and begging for me to wake up over and over again.

I try to tell her I’m here with her. That I’m never going to let her go. That I regret every second, we wasted because I refused to listen to her. That I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together. But I can’t. My eyes refuse to open, my brain to cooperate. She’s so close and so far away from me. This is punishment for chasing after what wasn’t mine. For using Liam’s trust and deceive him. For hurting Lexie. I hurt the woman I loved when I swore I’d never do that. Never love anyone. I shouldn’t love anyone. I know I don’t deserve her, but I just couldn’t help myself.

Her tornado-like personality sweeps people up, and it was so powerful, it drew me in so that I wanted to kiss her and touch her and make her mine.

Please baby, please, stop crying.

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

My eyes flare open, and my body spasms. Terror surge through my veins as I slam into the floor. Not the floor, a bed. My brain registers white sheets, fluorescent lights, incessant beeping—a sharp pain sliced through me. I try to scream, but something in my mouth and down my throat pushed air into my lungs instead.

“Drake.” A voice in my head. Soft and sweet. “Drake, look at me.” The voice is outside my head. I reach for it. I need it more than air. Lexie? I try to turn my head.

“Easy, now.” A man’s voice. Authoritative. Hands push me down at the shoulders. “Calm down,” he says. “That’s it. Don’t fight the machine.”

I try to inhale and exhale, but I can’t control my breathing. All the while, fluorescent lights come and go—my eyes. I’m opening and closing my eyes. I’m in here. This is me. The pain. Holy fuck, the pain. A red-hot sledgehammer to my right arm.

“Drake,” Lex says. Warm fingers fold around my hand. “It’s all right. Try to lie back.” Slowly my brain put things together. A bed with white sheets and beeping machines. This is a hospital. And Lex is here.

“Lexie,” I say. Or try to. The fucking tube in my mouth and down my throat blocks the word. I gag as more air pushes in.

“I’ll call the attending,” says the man, who must be a nurse. “Just stay with him. Keep talking and help get him oriented.”

Stay with me, my Lexie. Forever. My eyes fight hard to stay open. A plastic tube and white tape obscure my vision, but through and around it, I see her. Standing over me with brown hair falling down around her shoulders. Like a beautiful, peaceful dream after a long, dark night.

“Hey, Walker,” she says softly. Her little fingers intertwine with mine; her other palm runs smoothly over my forehead. “You’re all right. Just listen to my voice.” Her touch is so soft on my head. “You’re on a ventilator. Okay? It’s breathing for you. Try not to fight it. I’m right here. Keep listening to me. The respirator is to help you breathe until you come out of the sedation. That’s all.”

I wink again, unable to do anything else. Lexie reaches out her hand and caresses my cheek. I move my eyes and see Li and Savvy behind her.

My eyes fall shut in intense relief. My best friend and my little sister. Memories of safety and love from my childhood play on fast-forward—scraped knees and the time I fell from the treehouse. They were there for me. Over their shoulders, I see Bertrand and Max smiling. Savvy is here, Lexie is here, and Liam is all right. Everyone is.

“Hey there, Drake.” A tall man in a white coat is at the side of the bed now. “I’m Dr. Lahela. Let’s take a look at you…” He shines a light in my eyes. “You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Walker. You’ll need some physical therapy for your arm, but you’ll be fine.”

Alexis takes my hand and squeezes it. “You better never scare me like this again, Walker.” Her voice finally breaks. “I can’t live without you, Drake. Please, don’t do that again.”

I can’t talk, so I look at her trying to compel everything I feel for her. I treasure every shy smile, every kiss, every single laugh. I love her, and I don’t care if I deserve it or not. I’m never letting her go.

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One Year Later

The day is finally here. I’m not one for nerves and that bullshit, but there’s no ignoring the tightness in my chest as I walk down the street. Even though I have the address memorized, I recheck my phone to verify that I’m at the correct address. It’s there in my text messages, the location Lexie sent.

We’ve been together for more than a year, and sometimes I’ll get texts like these. Lexie loves to be spontaneous. I never know if I’m going to show up and find some dark bar where she wants me to fuck her in the bathroom… or if it’s going to be this really fucking cool bookshop where we’ll linger for hours, talking about books before she eventually buys both our favorites.

Those dates mean everything to me. I love the sex—fucking love the sex—but Lexie is a world into herself, and I could spend the rest of my life exploring her and still not know everything there is to know.

Today’s different, though

It’s not just any day, not just any date.

It’s been a year since the attack.

I touch the box in my pocket, take a deep breath, and push through the doors and into the restaurant. After a quick word, the hostess leads me up a set of stairs to the roof. I shake my head as I look around.

Lexie does nothing halfway.

The roof isn’t huge, but there is a gazebo in the middle that I’m nearly certain isn’t there during regular events. A small bar has been placed in the side, and the rest of the space is cleared of tables and chairs. It will just be us tonight.

She’s leaning against the railing and looking out across Portavira. We’re high enough to have a decent view of the sea. Personally, I only have eyes for her.

She’s wearing flat sandals and a stunning red dress; it clings to her body all the way down to her knees before flaring out. I will never know how she walks in the damn thing, but I appreciate how good her ass and tiny waist look on it as I walk over and lean against the railing next to her.

“I’m surprised you didn’t have me jumping on a plane to find you this time.” Something she occasionally does. She loves to travel. And I love her: ‘Surprise, I’m in Athenes, come get me’ texts.

“I did consider it.” Lexie turns to me with a grin. Her mouth is painted a crimson shade identical to her dress. Fuck, the woman is so beautiful it makes my chest ache. Not just her face. All of her, inside and out. She bumps me with her elbow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I love you.”

Her sexy grin turns into a full on smile that lights up her entire face. “You’re such a guy. All it takes is a short dress and a red lipstick.” She teases.

“It’s not that.” I take her hand and tug her toward the table set up for us. As we walk over, I study her expression. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.” Lexie catches my raised eyebrow and sighs. “Look, this day is never going to be easy for me. I thought I lost you, but I promise I’m okay.” She hesitates. “How are you holding up?”

I answer her honestly. “I’m fine. I know this was a horrible day to you, but I barely remember anything.” I take Lexie’s hand and brush my mouth over her knuckles. “So, why’d you pick this place?”

She looks around, the light wind pulling at her silky hair. “It’s romantic.” She turns her hand in mine to lace our fingers together. “We’ve both been working a lot lately. While I fully intend to take you home, so you fuck my brains out, I thought it’d be a nice change of pace to have a nice Italian dinner first.” She smiles. “And this place has a cool seasonal menu.”

The bartender delivers drinks that Lexie must have ordered for us—both Macallan’s 18 years. We order and then sip in silence for a few moments. I shift the ring box, an ever-present reminder of what I plan for tonight at the beach.

I’m not used to feeling off-center. I sure as fuck have wasted too much time doubting myself. I do not doubt that I love her wildly. That she’s the woman for me. It’s her answer that frightens me.

And I’m still not sure tonight is the night for this.

“Drake.”

I realize I’ve been spacing out and grimace. “Sorry. What did you say?”

Lexie leans in, her expression going playful. “I said, ‘Is that a box in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?’”

I follow her gaze down to where the square is very plainly in view pressed against the slacks of my front pocket. “Well, fuck.”

Her eyes go wide. “Seriously? It’s not earrings or a bracelet or something?”

I pull the box out of my pocket, and I’m fucked up to realize my palms are sweaty. Jesus fuck, this is not how I planned to do this, but here we are. “It’s not earrings or a necklace, no.” I set the box on the table between us and take a breath. This might not be how I planned to go about things, but that doesn’t mean a fucking thing. Very little goes to plan when Lexie is involved; that’s one of the things I love most about her. I’ve learned to roll with the punches.

I take Lexie’s hands and hold her gaze.

“That night, I was terrified. When I saw that gun aimed at you, I thought I might lose you. And I can’t live without you.” Fuck, this is harder than I expected. It’s not the opening myself up that’s so challenging. No subject is off-limits with us. It’s more that I want the perfect words to describe how I feel, and I’m shit at words. I’m not a damn poet. I’m just me, and just me will have to be perfect because she deserves nothing less than perfection. “This year has been really fucking good, O’Brien. Every time I think I can’t love you more, you go and prove me wrong. I love the adventures and shit we get into together, just like I love the long afternoons we spend with takeout and movies and board games and shit. And the lazy mornings in bed. I love it all.”

I release one of her hands to open the box. It’s an heirloom, but it meant so much to my grandmother, I hope she likes it. Lexie deserves perfect. It’s a single ruby against a simple setting that lets the gem stand on its own.

Lexie stares at it for a long moment and then at me. “Drake, that’s so perfect.”

“You’re one hell of a woman.” I don’t move, barely breathe. “Will you marry me, Lexie?”

She screams and throws herself at me. “Of course I will.” Her lower lip quivers a little. “Damn, you’re going to make me cry after saying all those sweet, perfect things.” She holds still while I slip the ring onto her finger. She holds it up, smiling at the way it glints in the city lights. “A perfect fit.”

“Just like us.”

“Just like us,” she repeats. A heartbeat passes. Another as I try to rein myself. Then I lean down, take her face in my hands, and kiss her desperately like she’s the last thing I’ll ever taste. I kiss her with the power surging through my veins, with all the strength of my desire and happiness over this day. With all the want that’s burning through me—want of more than just her body. Everything I long for, everything I hold precious, I pour into her mouth—and my Lex responds beautifully. Her arms twine around my waist, pressing her soft belly against me. I’m so damn hard, I just want to push myself against her until she spreads her legs and lets me in. Instead, I slide my tongue into the softness of her mouth. She gasps. It makes me smile around her lips, knowing that I can make my girl gasp with just a slip of my tongue. I explore her slowly, wrapping an arm around her back and cradling her head, so when I thrust my tongue into the hot, soft sanctuary of her sexy mouth, she doesn’t have to work to stay upright. I kiss her soft and slow, and longer, harder until she’s gasping and my hand is slowly caressing her neck. Her back is pressed against the rail, and I’m thrusting against her. She’s rocking against me, too, and I stop. I see the waitress coming. We’ll have to wait a few hours until we’re together at the cabin, and I have time to explore every inch of her. Even if I know, it will never be enough.

She’s blushing, and it’s so fucking adorable I want to kiss her all over again. “You know, for a guy who says you’re not good with words, that was one hell of a proposal.”

“I just love you so fucking much, baby.”

“That’s why I’m going to marry you.” She hooks the back of my neck and brings me down for a kiss.

Lexie leans back and meets my gaze. “I don’t suppose you’re thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That we should pay the tab, get the food to go, and take it back to our cabin.”

“A man after my own heart.” She kisses me again, sweeter this time. “I love you, Drake Walker. So fucking much. I can’t wait to marry you.”

#axwalker writes #trraw2021 #drake walker #drake x lexie #drake walker fanfic #trr fanfic #tw shooting #drake x mc #drake walker x mc

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decayandfanfics · 3 years

Text

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut.

A/N: I’m trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.

As always, let me know what you think!

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Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Out of sight, out of mind (interlude)

They disappear one night the same way they appeared.

Without a word.

It feels like waking up after a long dream. The way the sunrays enter your little kitchen, splashing your space in golden light looks almost ethereal, no longer their figures staining your white walls, standing out of place in the middle of your living room.

It feels a lot like the mornings after some heavy rainstorm.

It’s over. You think, breathing heavy and tired.

The apartment is quiet and cold, foreign to you. It reminds you a little they way you feel in hospitals. Places without personality, places without any personal touch. Even when everything is in place; the blankets are neatly folded in the closet and your toothbrush is the only one in the bathroom (Toga surely took her time tiding everything up) but you cannot feel at ease in it.

Maybe you are no longer the same person that use to live alone in this place, because it doesn’t feel like you belong inside the four walls that began to close too tight around you now, and even when you know you should run to the next police station and ask for help and protection because you’ve been hostage in your own home for weeks, you can’t get yourself to do it. It feels like a betrayal, somehow. Even when they held you captive, even when they’ve threat you and berated you. Even when there is no guarantee they would not be back to end the job after what you did to Dabi, after what happen with Shigaraki.

He looked like he wanted to hurt you last time.

Sorrow soft and silent start to rise, your heart breaking slowly with realization, smothering you, drowning you gently as you stand alone in the middle of your home, because they will never be back.

He will never be back.

It’s fine…I’m…safe. I’m safe.

You feel the jarring stab of grief, your heart cracking open under the pressure and the loneliness you’ve been trying to keep under control all this time, so you let out a shaking sob, finally admitting to yourself the ugly truth.

This is more than a little crush.

More like falling in love.

And your sweetheart has red eyes like jewels and a starved need for ruin.

So, you curl in a corner of your couch, hugging a pillow that smells way too much like soap and leather, finally allowing yourself to cry because this is painful, the kind of infatuation that can get you killed, that can destroy your life and ruin you. Him never coming back is a gift made of grief and poison, but you’ll take it because you know this is what you get in exchange of an attachment like this for a man who does nothing but harbor resentment inside the dark pit that is his chest.

You cry your eyes out, you cry desperate and lonely, holding tight to the pillow that still smells like him, no longer trying to suppress the nasty wound his gaze carved into your heart the moment his eyes met yours.

You cry because you think he hates you, because he didn’t just decide to go. Shigaraki choose to run away from this just to spite you and your infatuation because he wanted to stab you back. Because that’s the kind of man he is, that’s the kind of man that you allowed to hold grip onto your heart.

So, you stay curled in the corner of your little couch, sobbing and weeping over the painful mess you’ve made, wishing for the kiss you didn’t get the chance to steal and swearing that if you ever see him again, you’ll squeeze that devious grin out of his sharp face with your bare hands because if he wanted to hurt you by leaving without a word, then he should be fucking proud.

_____________________

He wasn’t joking when he asked her if she could handle rough.

“Oh my god” she sobs, inked tears staining her cheeks.

She looks like a mess, but he prefers it that way. He favors that she’s different, a complete opposite with her heavy makeup and revealing clothes, her smudged lipstick painting her chin and her breasts bouncing heavy, scaping her torn little dress. A perfect depiction of ruined and lewd.

She gags when he squeezes her neck hard, his index fingers curled as he yanks her body against the brick wall, too angry to care for his companion. No. He just wants to thrust into her as fast and rough as he can so he can get off the soon.

“Oh my-” she pants trying to hold herself against the wall, but he pulls her neck to him, pressing her back to his chest and then he yanks forward and bites her hard in the shoulder, his teeth leaving a purple mark on her skin.

“Shut up.” He grunts maddened when she sobs and squirms against his body, her smell entering his nostrils, making him gag instantly because he cannot stand the cheap perfume mixed with cigarettes, sweat and sex.

He cannot stand the smell of her hair, nor the shape of her body, or the height difference.

He cannot stand her lewd screaming.

So, he covers her mouth with his hand and shut his eyes tightly closed before resuming his brutal animalistic pacing, trying not to think in the salty flavor of her skin in his mouth. He just needs his release; it’s been a while since he gave himself to this kind of pleasure and for all things he’s ever done, he never fucked this angry before.

Tomura thinks he’s not particularly sexual on a daily basis. He doesn’t go walking around thinking about the next time he gets laid, not when he’s never been that interested in girls anyway, because he just…doesn’t like things nor people. So, his approach on sex is more like a task to be filled if anything else (like eating), rarely relying on another body since he doesn’t want to be touched at all. Now, of course he’s done it now and then, sometimes paying for it, sometimes a nightstand after some vodka in a seedy bar, but always quick to dispatch the person involved.

For Tomura, sex is about him wanting something and obtaining it the easiest way possible to just keep on with his life.

Or at least that’s how it was, but some reason he’s been feeling incredibly starved for it lately, and after being in a heck of a terrible mood and some heated lash out at his crew out of nowhere, he decided to pick his anger and put it somewhere else before killing one of his comrades.

Now, the woman is drooling all over his hand with all the choking, making him feel nauseous so he lets go of her and just digs his fingers on her hip keeping his index up, his long nails clawing at her skin, making her whine, squeezing him tight in reflex.

She tries to catch his wrist to move one of his hands to her breast, but he yanks away to pull her hair, growling a curse against her ear, swallowing hard.

This feels so wrong.

It’s not the right cup size.

It’s not the right smell.

It’s not the right height.

It’s not the right woman.

The mechanic friction is finally working its wonders because Tomura feels his low abdomen tighten before finally getting off.

No, he doesn’t see stars, nor grunts in feverish pleasure. He doesn’t taste her neck nor smiles when he cums. As soon as he releases, he shoves the woman as far away from him, removing the condom with disgust and decaying it (the thought of feeling her bare wet cunt against his naked skin revolving his guts).

He adjusts his clothes before throwing the woman some cash and just walks away, concluding that this was the most unsatisfying fuck in world’s history.

Tomura looks at his hands, feeling the sticky sensation of her saliva and her sweat, troubled because his face it’s super itchy but he feels so disgustingly dirty, that he doesn’t even need to smell them to know that her musky tacky perfume now lingers on his palms.

Maybe if I rub my hands, I can decay it away. He thinks, trying his hypothesis to no avail. ‘kay, that was pointless.

He manages to rub the fabric of his sleeve against his brow until the skin begins to show red dots of blood as he thinks seriously that he could kill for a hot shower, even when he’s not the cleanest guy around (he showers when he can. If he can’t do it, then he just doesn’t think about it), but he can’t stand the way the prostitute’s scent remains on him like a sin, and the thought is so ridiculous, because he’s done plenty of horrible disturbing shit in his life to now feel all guilty and nasty for a “less-than-mediocre” fuck.

So, he walks away, utterly unsatisfied. His anger dragging behind him, leaving a bloodied mess of chaos and longing for something far brighter than a rough fuck behind some lost alley, because he wants more than that. He wants the name, the body and the holy spirit that inhabits the girl with dangerous gaze and healer hands. He wants her violence, her anger and wild bravado, all for him to feaster and be consumed by it.

A violent delight that he can’t afford, not when he’s busy surviving until he finds the doctor or his master’s weapon, so he repeats himself that his infatuation, this sickness will disappear eventually, he just needs to get his priorities straight and focus.

He’ll do it, time will get everything in place again.

Cold creeps into him, the city lights filling the streets between car noises and people returning their homes. All of them busy minding their own lives, completely unaware of the hooded serial killer walking by, quietly sneaking into the fire escape of some old building.

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III

Internal medicine is one of those courses that drains every bit of life out of you. Arguably the hardest in a career full of hards, you now live under the constant threat of failure because this shit is a monster, and you know the statistics too well to not being aware that this course has the highest rate of reps in all the damn faculty.

So, you enter your uni mode; sugar-rush based diet and coffee like the world is ending to keep your brain functioning like is a nuclear reactor, sleeping four hours at nights and barely dreaming. Of course, it’s not just that class, is that you have three more besides that one, all of them of high difficulty for you to rejoice in your misery, so yeah. You live like a zombie.

I’m going to be rich; I’m going to be rich; I’m going to be rich… You repeat to yourself every morning after showering, watching your body in front of the mirror, admiring the sharp angles and purple eyebags that already began to claim your face.

Oh, and the hair loss due to stress is just the cherry on top of the cake, really.

Yes, your brain is at the brim of collapse right now, but classes start again, and your friends are there to suffer with you and it makes you feel accompanied and secure. Is just another semester of tears, panic, pizza and everything that implies to be a twenty something student, so you are thankful nonetheless, because you don’t have the time to think about the other thing…

You don’t think about it.

You don’t really think about it.

You don’t even think about it.

And you don’t say the name either, you refuse because you’ll do anything to forget about him, anything to erase the memory of his dark figure like a shadow against your white kitchen, too clever and insolent for your own good.

But it’s okay, you don’t think of him, or his slender fingers taking the bishop to strike down your king, and the way his dry lips curve upward before some smartass remark. You don’t think of his lean body towering over you, touching yours in so many places but none at the same time.

No, you don’t think of him while awake, but sometimes he visits your dreams to terrify you with his cadaveric hands and his face hidden by his hair. Ready to strike you down, a hand extended in motion to decay you into oblivion.

Sometimes he hovers over you, kissing your neck while ravaging you, incredibly close and raw and intimate, his mouth snarling dirty words you’ll never dare to say out loud. Dreams where his warm chest press against your naked body and your lips sings lewd lullabies just for him, welcome him to feaster on your skin with your face nuzzling against his scarred cheek, covering your face with his silver hair.

Sometimes he just sits in your kitchen as the sunlight reflects over his milky locks. His hand holding his cheek over the table in serene expression, calling your name to play again as the black king spins between his delicate fingers.

___________________

Tomura has a meeting with this new allied Twice found, like three days from now.

He’s not particularly excited about it, surely, it’s just another capo wannabe with grandeur delusions, but it could be worth it. Maybe he could get some money out of it since the league is completely broken after his sensei’s incarceration. They are in desperate need of a hideout, now more than ever since Kurogiri vanished and he’s sure the heroes must have captured him. (Thinking about this is pointless anyway because he doesn’t have the means to get him back)

Minding his own business, he walks with his hoodie on, passing between civilians like he’s one of them, completely invisible when he sees her.

It catches him by surprise. His heart stopping dead on its tracks, wide eyes and tight lips, uncertainty filling him all of the sudden, but he’s accustomed to make hiding spots out of nowhere, so he gets behind some store sign where he can watch her safely.

She stands outside a coffee shop, animatedly talking with some guy who wears the same clinic uniform that she has on. A school mate maybe? She’s an intern in a hospital so, they are probably on shift. Another doctor like her.

She looks tired and paler, but beautiful, nonetheless. The way her lips move give away she’s talking about something clinic, because her face has that firm expression she always does when she’s being professional.

She already looks like a doctor and God knows he’d gladly be sick every day of his life if she’s the one to treat him.

His feelings betray him. He was sure after a month she would be completely out of his system by now, this stupid illness already cured, but shit just doesn’t go away. It pisses him off to no end because she’s not worth the aggravation. C’mon, she’s just another boring normal civilian, she doesn’t do anything important or interesting. She’s not remarkable in any way that serves him, because not even her quirk is truly useful. Not when it threatens to kill her every time she uses it.

And looking her objectively, she’s not even that pretty, but somehow, he’s torn between his desire to make her see him and get as far away from her he can.

Searing jealousy pierces him, hate raw and jarring dripping from between his ribs when the man leans over and whisper something that makes her laugh and for a moment, he seriously thinks he’s going to kill him right there, no quirk needed because he would just love to gut him out in plain view for her to see what he thinks of her stupid friend.

He hates the man, but he hates her more because she dares to laugh, she dares to enjoy life and people meanwhile he crawls hungry and cold between ruined places.

Like sensing his glare, she suddenly turns her head with her eyes directed to the spot where he hides, her expression changing from joyful to confused in seconds, making him laugh because even when he’s sure she cannot see him, she knows he’s there and it feels like she’s tied to him somehow.

Her face gives away disappoint when she fails to catch him and the thought of her grieving after he left delights him, but he’s sworn to let her behind, so he rejoices for a moment in this little victory of his pettiness over her charms, before turning away from her, fully believing that this is the last time he thinks of her.

Chapter 13

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Hey lovely readers! since English is not my native language and writing Shigaraki is kinda hard because he changes and grows, and because he usually says many things about himself, but then he goes and do completely different things (like when he says he hates everything, but CLEARLY he’s fond of twice and stuff like that) so much in manga, it would be lovely to know what you think of this! I think it’s the only way to be better at something really, So, any questions, comments and concerns, please feel free to comment!

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #bnha 306 #bnha fanfiction #the great book of sayings

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distopea · 2 years

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@nezumivc103221

They're sitting by the fire; people are chatting, laughing and drinking. Nezumi passes Mads a bottle and leans into his side, a smug smile on his lips as he whispers into Mads' ear: "Do you remember—last night—? Do you remember the shape of my lips when I took your cock in? The feeling of my throat when you pushed into me? Do you remember how I choked and struggled to breathe?"

Nezumi's hand sneaks towards Mads' knee and slowly pets his hand upwards. He nibbles on Mads' ear, then speaks again: "I want you to do that to me tonight. Your hands on my body. Your lips stretched around me. I want to feel your tongue like you've felt mine. I want my hands in your hair. Fingers gripping—tugging—as I moan your name and you swallow me."

Gathering around the fire was a common tradition in the Circus that Mads had learnt to appreciate. It was a moment of quietness and sharing, where everyone was bringing bottles of alcohol and different kinds of foods, drinking and eating before wrapping everything up for the day. Usually, he was among the quietest people, having his plate full and listening to Mika telling their stories when they were still young farmers in the Highlands, running after the sheeps and trembling under their blankets when they would believe the Kelpies were after them.

Tonight, Nezumi was sitting by his side, busy himself with his own conversation, even if sometimes, their knees would bump against each other. Mads was sincerely trying his best not to be too obvious either, but it was highly complicated to remain impassive right beside him. Their sexually had peaked for the past few weeks, Mads discovering a world of pleasure he had never experienced before, and while he was a man of control, he almost felt like a teenager – his thoughts always clouded by the vivid memories of two bodies colliding together. Yet, as Nezumi handed him the bottle of sake, Mads thought it was more than time to chase those nasty thoughts away, because he couldn’t crave such intimate contact every day.

But that was before Nezumi would open his mouth. As he believed the young man would simply comment about something regarding the current conversation, Mads’ blood suddenly boiled under the bold and crude statement directly whispered inside his ear. The soldier swallowed his spit, harshly, and brought the bottle at his lips, trying his best not to choke on its neck when he sensed Nezumi’s fingers skimming his knee.

Yes… He could remember perfectly. Those teary eyes full of mischief looking up at him, mouth full and lips swollen. The sounds of his moans were muffled by the gag of his throat, and yet, he had been so eager to swallow him all. The very thought of his warm cavity enveloping his cock, pulsing, swelling, until he had felt that warmness in the lower part of his belly and spurted right in the back of his throat. He shivered and looked aside, dark blue eyes animated with a fire Nezumi could perfectly translate. He had been looking for it, after all.

“I remember.” Mads whispered, his thumb discreetly brushing the under part of Nezumi’s thigh. He wasn’t the kind of person to easily blush, but surely, his heartbeat was intense right now. He pretended to put the bottle of alcohol by Nezumi’s side so his lips could linger on his neck, his warm breathing ghosting the crook of it. “Come get it, Nezumi. You can’t say those words without expecting me not to lose control right away.”

He nibbled his neck, a bit more passionately than usual before he eventually stood back up and flushed his hands inside his pants pockets, probably to change their shape and hide his half-hard erection. He nodded to excuse himself and while he passed behind Nezumi, his fingers were brushing his nape, tenderly. “Come with me.” He invited, ready to prove once more that he was a man of his words.

#; nezumivc103221 #⌇ask ( 𝙈𝙖𝙙𝙨 )#⌇voice of the navy ( 𝙈𝙖𝙙𝙨 | ic )#⌇he’s the angel of small death ( 𝙈𝙖𝙙𝙨 / 𝙉𝙚𝙯𝙪𝙢𝙞 )#⌇NSFW ( 𝙈𝙖𝙙𝙨 )#; you have to take responsibilities for what you did to him Nezumi #; he has never met someone so BOLD and he's losing it #; if he doesn't come right away with I swear he's going to carry him back to the trailer lmao

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glimmerglanger · 4 years

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Whumptober 2020 - Day 13

Part 13 of the oof!au. There’s a lot of hurt to go around and not a lot of sleep.

General Information: Post Order 66 Vader-Captures-Obi-Wan AU. Eventual happy(ish) ending. (Getting closer). Past/eventual Codywan. Past one-sided Vaderwan.

Warnings: Fall-out from past torture, captivity, mind control, and non-con. Guilt.

No 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE?

Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation

Communication with the few people Obi-Wan had left to trust in the galaxy wasn’t easy, but he remembered how to do it, sending a coded message off to Alderaan, hoping for the best. He knew an immediate answer was unlikely, but lingered on the bridge, anyway.

The alternatives were not appealing. He knew he ought to, really, go to the quarters he’d been given. He’d visited the room, once, during the time they’d spent aboardship. The walls had been grey, and for a moment, standing in the doorway, he’d had a jarring sense of being in two places at once.

He’d held onto the doorframe with his hand, breathing slow and steady through his nose, making himself focus on the present, the way he’d learned to do long ago, the first time he’d come back from a mission that left behind more than physical scars. The room on the ship had a little bed, sheets neatly tucked in, and even a viewport.

There was no drain in the floor. In fact, the door set off to one side implied the presence of an actual fresher. Maybe even a sonic shower. There hadn’t been time to enjoy such a luxury with the ship broken down and dying. Obi-Wan had managed to step inside the room, to remain there for less than a minute before he had to open the door again and stumble out, backwards, going until his back bumped the far wall, his heart beating too fast in his chest.

“Sir?” Cody had asked, emotions a knot that Obi-Wan couldn’t work through, ragged concern in his voice.

And Obi-Wan had managed to say, wondering why Cody had been in the hall outside his quarters, “We should get back to work.”

There was no work to be done, while he waited for a message back from Bail. He fiddled with small repairs on the bridge, and breathed a sigh of relief when a reply came through, sparing him the need to make further excuses to avoid his quarters and the silent stillness within them.

The reply he got, short and coded, limited as much as possible to give nothing away if it were intercepted, included coordinates and a brief message. He decoded it and read it over twice, before Cody said, frowning at the screen, “That’s deep in Wild Space.”

“It is,” Obi-Wan said, considering the travel time of such a voyage, wondering what would be waiting at the other side. He knew barely anything about the rebellion that Bail mentioned in the missive. Nor could he imagine why anyone in it would be happy to see him.

“Is that where we’re going?” Tektek asked, walking over from the station he’d been repairing; weapon’s systems, Obi-Wan thought, the lay-out of the bridge wasn’t quite the same as the Negotiator’s had been.

Obi-Wan shrugged, staring at the coordinates. “That’s up to everyone, I suppose.” He glanced over at Tektek, working a smile onto his mouth. “You can all go wherever you like.” There was, at least, a kind of relief in that realization.

His men - this portion of them, anyway, and Obi-Wan did not know how many more survived - were free. Freer even than they’d been during the War. Free from the orders of the Senate, free from any minders that might have been sent after them from Kamino, free from the control in their heads. They could go and do whatever they liked. Finally.

“Sure,” Tektek said, a little frown on his face, “so where are you going?”

Obi-Wan reached up to rub at his chin with a hand he didn’t have anymore and closed his eyes, briefly, marshalling his expression. “I suppose,” he said, when his voice felt steady, “I’ll go see what’s waiting at the end of these coordinates.”

He had nothing else better to do. He could return to Tatooine, but… it seemed unlikely Luke needed his protection, anymore. He’d run, after his first trip to Mustafar, tried to bury himself away from all the rest of the galaxy.

It hadn’t worked.

There seemed to be little point to trying the same thing again.

“Set a course,” Cody said, and Obi-Wan turned to blink over at him.

“You don’t have to take me there,” he said, cautiously, because Cody’s emotions were always held so tightly. He felt like he was walking on a wire, like he was waiting for an explosion. His men were hurt inside, he could feel it, and he still didn’t know how to help. He’d tried to apologize several times, but it got him nowhere. He got the distinct feeling that having him around made them feel worse. And so he swallowed and said, evenly as he could, “This is your ship--”

“Our ship,” Cody interrupted, echoed by Tektek and the other troopers around the room.

Obi-Wan’s heart ached. He didn’t know how he was hurting them, or how to make it stop, but he was touched that they still wanted to include him. “Our ship, then,” he said. “But, if you want to drop me--”

“We don’t,” Cody bit out, emotions all sharp edges, just for a moment, gaze snapping up, his eyes dark and fierce.

Obi-Wan held his gaze - it was rare, Cody seemed to avoid looking directly at him, most of the time - and said, “I’d like to give everyone the option to decide.”

Cody blinked and then shrugged. “Of course,” he said, and then looked away, jaw clenched before he continued, “Do you want to go alone?”

Obi-Wan thought of his quarters, the empty cell on Mustafar, his hovel on Tatooine, and shuddered. He said, before he could stop himself, “No. I -- no. Not alone. But--”

“There you are,” Bones interrupted, storming into the room with a scowl, and it took Obi-Wan a moment to realize he was talking to Cody. “I told you to get down to the infirmary after the situation was resolved.”

“It wasn’t resolved,” Cody shot back, and Bones scowled at him.

Obi-Wan slipped towards the door while they were arguing. He thought, perhaps, he’d better ask around, make sure his men really wanted to head off into Wild Space. Force knew they deserved the choice to determine their own future, and if it kept him busy, well…

So much the better. Moving helped him stay awake, in any case. And he wasn’t ready to risk sleeping.

All of his men - they weren’t really his men anymore, he knew that, they were their own people - seemed to want to head off to Wild Space. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps they just didn’t know where else to go, yet. Perhaps they wanted to stick together.

He understood that.

Obi-Wan spoke to as many people as he could find, eventually ending up near one of the group freshers on the ship. He stood outside for a moment, feeling gritty and filthy, mind buzzing with loud exhaustion.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d bathed properly, the last time he’d been able to just stand under water for as long as he wanted and clean himself off. He knew he stank. There was blood caked over his skin, peeling off here and there, augmented with oil and filth from ship repairs.

There were troopers in the room. He felt their presence and reached his hand out, almost touching the door controls.

There had been communal baths at the Temple. Beautiful, tiled rooms with pools of various temperatures, to accommodate Jedi from different worlds. Some had been fresh water, others salt, some had contained nutrients that gave Obi-Wan a terrible rash, but brought on the colors in Master Fisto’s skin.

He’d grown up playing in the pools, relaxing, surrounded by those he cared about, by his family.

The Jedi were all dead. Aside from Master Yoda, he did not know for sure that any others survived, though he hoped, he hoped so desperately that his message had gotten through, that there were others out there, safe and hidden and--

And he shoved all of those thoughts aside. He just wanted to be clean. He’d scrubbed down around his men - not his men, their own men - before, during the war. But - but his presence hadn’t hurt them, then. Being around him didn’t make their emotions stain out into the Force, so thick that it tightened his throat.

He took a step back, turned, and made himself go to his quarters. It was just a room. Just a few walls and a bunk. It had a fresher of its own and he worked to keep his breathing steady as the door closed at his back.

He focused on his pulse - racing - as he walked across the room, tugging off the blacks he’d been wearing for too many days. He left them piled on the floor, reaching out to turn on the water - he didn’t want a sonic shower, not then - and freezing as he caught a look at himself in the mirror.

He’d not… seen himself for some time. Not in anything but the reflections off of Anakin’s helmet. He’d managed to convince himself that those were, for the most part, warped. Perhaps they hadn’t been.

His hair was a tangle, grown to hang over his ears and in his face. There was so much white in it, far more than he remembered even from Tatooine. His beard was starting to grow back in, stubbly across his cheeks and jaw. White in that hair, too, he noted.

There were dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks cut sharp. He’d lost weight he couldn’t afford to lose. Too many ribs stood up against his skin. No wonder the troopers kept trying to get him to eat; he’d lost count of how many nutrient packs they’d brought him over the days of repair.

His skin bore new scars. He could see the edges of the brands Anakin had left on his back, the burns raised and red. His gaze roamed across the mirror until he couldn’t avoid, any longer, looking at his left arm.

It just...stopped, a bit above where his elbow had once been, and he shuddered, hearing Anakin’s voice in his head, staring across into the past, into Tektek’s eyes, Anakin saying, “This is fair, isn’t it? You deserve this, don’t you?”

Obi-Wan made it to the toilet before he gagged, vomit rising up his throat so suddenly it made him dizzy. He spat down into the bowl, afterwards, shivery all over and breathing hard. The smell of burned skin was stuck in his nose. He needed to bathe. That was all. Needed to get clean. It would help, he knew from experience.

The water was hot, when he stepped under it. He scrubbed at his hair, at his skin, vicious with the movements, watching filthy water swirl around his feet and down the drain. Eventually, the water ran clear. Obi-Wan braced his hand against the wall and let the water run over him, the warmth feeding the exhaustion in his head.

He didn’t remember the last time he had slept. Whatever he’d done in the bacta, back on Mustafar, it hadn’t been restful. Nothing on Mustafar had been restful. Whatever he’d done as Cody carried him away hadn’t been sleep, either. Unconscious wasn’t the same as sleeping.

He shivered, turning off the water eventually. There was a towel, hanging outside the stall. He grabbed it and learned how to dry off with one hand. There was a little clothing locker out in the room. It had a set of blacks - clean - in it. Obi-Wan pulled them on quickly.

He liked having clothes to wear, again. It made him feel… further away from everything Anakin had done, even if they didn’t fit right. He knotted the left sleeve, awkward with only one hand, and then stood there, breathing.

Exhaustion battered at the back of his eyes. He knew, perfectly well, that he ought to lay down and sleep. It would help. He’d always done what he needed to do. So he marched stiffly over to the bed and made himself lay down.

The mattress and pillow were nothing special. They felt the same as his bed on the Negotiator. He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Sleep. That was what he needed. He’d recovered from - well, perhaps not worse.

But he’d recovered. Before. From similar torture.

He’d had help.

He exhaled and closed his eyes, stretching out his mind throughout the ship, checking on the troopers. They all felt worn thin. Exhausted. Hurt and aching. He did what he could to soothe them, the dark behind his eyes getting heavier, harder to hold at bay, and he slept. Briefly.

He dreamed of hands holding him down, fingers burning hot as brands pressed into his skin, smoke rising off of his body as he thrashed and tried to get away, unable to scream as Anakin stepped behind him, lowering a long, slightly curved brand, glowing white hot, pushing it--

Obi-Wan jerked awake with a whine caught behind his teeth, sweaty under his clothes, breathing raggedly, his blood pounding wildly in his veins. According to the chrono beside the mattress, he’d been asleep around an hour.

“Force,” he panted out, shaking, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and resting his elbow on his thigh, hanging his head down, trying to control his breathing. He could still feel the burning. Still smell char in his nose. He pushed to his feet, swaying for just a moment, and swallowed bile.

Sleep could wait, he decided. Surely there was something on the ship that needed doing. He stepped out of the room to find Cody walking down the hall, a frown on his face and his hands clenched at his sides. Cody paused as his door opened and said, “I thought you were sleeping.”

Obi-Wan made his mouth curve up in the edges. “Not tired,” he lied. “Thought I’d get something to eat.”

Cody’s gaze cut to the side. He nodded, said, “Alright,” and followed Obi-Wan, without another word, down to the mess hall.

There were other troopers eating, when they arrived. Obi-Wan grabbed a nutrient pack. They watched him, all of them, keeping an eye on him as he crossed the room, their emotions bunching up from his presence.

He paused beside Tektek, looking at his recently shaved head, and asked, thoughts jerky and uncoordinated with exhaustion, “Are there scissors around here, somewhere? A razor?” His hair hung too long, falling into his face, and he hated--

Hated the memories of fingers clenched in it, of Anakin, pulling him around by the strands, forcing his head down and--

“Yes, sir,” Tektek said, looking up at him, grip tightening on his fork for a moment.

“Do you think I could borrow them?” Obi-Wan asked, trying to smile and not quite managing it, trying to be normal, trying to be...whatever it was they needed him to be, to stop them all radiating such agony into the Force. He glanced down at himself and said, aiming for rueful, “I don’t know how well I’ll do, but anything is better than this.”

“I’ll help you, General,” Mav said, standing from where he’d been sitting across from Tektek. He had - perhaps of all of Obi-Wan’s men - gone through the most different styles during the war. He’d never quite settled on one he liked. Or perhaps the different choices were what he liked, in and of themselves.

“You don’t--” Obi-Wan started, but Mav had already turned on his heel and marched off. Obi-Wan blinked, watching him go.

Tektek said, “Sit here, sir, he’ll be back in a moment,” and Obi-Wan had thought they didn’t want him around - he made them hurt - but it must not have been so terrible. Perhaps they could just tell how much he didn’t want to be alone.

He sat, with a little smile, Cody pulling out the chair beside him and joining them, wordlessly. Cody, he noted, with a sideways glance, still looked exhausted, hurt radiating out of him. Obi-Wan needed to have a word with Bones.

He opened his nutrient pack, sighed at the contents - still better than the gruel he’d subsited on under Anakin’s care - and took a bite, aware of glances being exchanged over his head. Conversation resumed, slowly, as he ate.

“We were talking about what to name the ship,” Tektek offered, his food finished, though he made no effort to get up. “What do you think we should name her?”

Obi-Wan glanced up, surprised he was being asked. “What’s her name, now?”

It was Cody who answered, flat, as Mav made his way back through the room, supplies in his arms. He said, “The Executioner.”

Obi-Wan grimaced, swallowing the last bite. He’d learned to eat quickly very young, and never forgotten how. It was so much harder for people to take food away from you if you’d already swallowed it. He said, “Yes, I think we can do better than that. Are you keeping her, then?”

Tektek glanced towards Cody and then shrugged. “We thought, sir, well. This is one of the Empire’s new models. She’s built to fight. Be a shame to let her go to waste.”

Obi-Wan nodded. He thought about Coruscant, about the Temple, about all of his family, slaughtered, about his men, turned inside out and trapped in their own minds. Anakin had done many things, but he hadn’t been the architect of all this suffering.

“It would,” he agreed, finally, as Mav reached them and deposited his supplies on the table.

He’d found a brush somewhere, and Obi-Wan felt an embarrassing sting in his eyes just from the sight of it. It had been...a long time, since he’d brushed his hair. Mav reached out, making to touch his shoulder, and then froze when Cody made a sharp, abrupt noise, stiffening beside him.

Their emotions were a painful tangle, so many emotions, all trying to tug Obi-Wan down. He felt so tired; it made them more difficult to handle. He braced his hand on the table, reeling with it all as Mav asked, “Sir, is it -- can I--?”

Obi-Wan managed a nod, after a moment. “Yes,” he said. “Go right ahead.”

And Cody stayed tense as a compressed spring beside him, as Mav tried to work through the tangles, eventually giving up and cutting out the worst of the knots. The troopers around them bandied names back and forth as Mav worked, and each hank of hair that fell made Obi-Wan feel lighter, until he thought he might float away.

“How short do you want it?” Mav asked, eventually.

And Obi-Wan said, “Shorter,” without even thinking about it. He didn’t want it long enough for anyone to twist fingers into it, he wanted--

“I can clip it,” Mav said, cautiously, and Obi-Wan nodded.

The razor buzzed at the back of his head, slicing away more of the hair, until Obi-Wan could imagine that all the parts Anakin had touched were gone, laying around him across the floor, and they shouldn’t have done this in the mess hall, but…

“There you go,” Mav said, when he finished, turning off the razor, and Obi-Wan reached up to run his hand over the top of his head. The hair wasn’t shaved completely. It prickled his palm. He didn’t think he’d had it so short since his Padawan days, and--

“Thank you,” he said, looking up and crooking a smile onto his mouth. Mav nodded; he felt… steadier, through the Force. Not so raw and shredded as he gathered things up, and Obi-Wan said, quietly, “So, about the name.”

“I was thinking,” Cody said, tone stiff and flat, and he hadn’t moved, though he was long finished his meal, “The Recompense.”

Obi-Wan froze, swallowing, but his men - they were their own men - well, if anyone deserved a chance for justice, a chance to make things right… He nodded, and said, “A good choice.” And he was happy to just sit there, listening to them all discuss it, for a while.

Obi-Wan couldn’t just sit in the mess hall forever, as much as he wouldn’t have minded. Bones swung by, eventually, told him he looked exhausted, and pointedly suggested he ought to go sleep.

Obi-Wan didn’t have the energy to fight, so he nodded and made his way towards his quarters. He tried to sleep again. He made it a few hours, before he was roused, the taste of vomit in his mouth and the burning memory of Cody’s hands blazed across his skin.

He got up.

Over the next days of travel he snagged pieces of sleep here and there, knowing, deep down, that he needed more. He sorted away his own nightmares, working through them, but when he was sleeping… the pain of everyone else on the ship tended to slip into his head.

He didn’t only have his nightmares, in the days that followed.

He dreamed the dreams of others, and they all featured him, every single one. He closed his eyes and watched himself scream - had he looked like that? - and felt himself struggling against a borrowed body, as, in the dreams, he did terribly things to his own body, and--

And he knew he needed sleep, but… Staying awake hurt less.

They’d nearly reached the coordinates where they were to stop when Obi-Wan found a little room where some of the troopers had gathered - they were cleaning their blasters, almost silent - and he slipped inside, settling in a corner. They noticed him, he felt their emotions shift at his presence, but none of them said anything.

They just… glanced his way as he folded his legs and drew his back straight. They’d likely gotten used to him meditating. He’d done it often, once upon a time. He tried to sink down into the Force, looking for serenity within his mind, and jarred, just a little, when Cody came through the door a few minutes later.

Obi-Wan kept his eyes closed, kept focusing.

Meditating would help restore his energy, somewhat. He drew in a deep breath, planning to order his thoughts, and sleep snuck up on him, swallowing him down.

Obi-Wan dreamed of burning shackles around his wrists - both of them - and Anakin, as he’d been once, but with burning yellow eyes, snarling, “This is what you deserve, isn’t it? Say it!” And pain and pain and pain and--

He woke with his heart trying to beat out of his chest, trying to tear through his ribs. There were hands on his shoulders, familiar and well-known, a voice saying, “--up, just a dream, it’s--”

Obi-Wan lurched, snapping his eyes open, his veins burning and his gut hard, reaching out for the Force, desperately, trying to tell what was real and what was only in his head. Cody was - was crouched in front of him, touching him -- holding him down, fingers digging into his skin -- radiating horror and concern and guilt and--

Obi-Wan flinched, couldn’t help it, a reflex in his spine making him pull back, trying to scramble away. He felt Cody’s emotions flare out even as he jerked his hands off of Obi-Wan’s shoulders. And that was worse, somehow, being alone, again -- laying in an empty cell, alone, nothing but the drain and --

Cody froze, went still and stiff, emotions blanking, and there was movement, past his shoulder, sudden and jerking. Obi-Wan flinched again, curling his arm up, automatic to protect his head, strangling off a cry in his throat, and Cody twisted to look over his shoulder, snarling, “Get back! All of you! Now!”

Obi-Wan listened to them scramble back, their emotions all torn to shreds, pulling him deeper into a spiral of his own making. Shame and horror surged through Obi-Wan. He knew it hurt them to be around him, he should have been more cautious. They all felt agonized, flayed open, and he worked to control himself, to pull the nightmare apart into wisps, clearing his throat to rasp, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Cody said, voice cracking.

“I know I failed you all,” Obi-Wan said, the edges of their dreams still curled up in his head. He could just close his eyes, feeling exhaustion digging its poisonous fingers into his brain, letting the words spill out. “I don’t blame you. For wanting to stay away from me. I--”

“Obi-Wan,” Cody sounded like he’d been gut-shot again. It was the first time he’d said Obi-Wan’s name in...so long. Obi-Wan shivered at the sound of it. Even during the war, it had been rare for Cody to use his name. He’d saved it for those special occasions, when he thought Obi-Wan was going to die.

“I’m very tired,” Obi-Wan said, trying to offer Cody a way out of this conversation, a way forward. And it was true, anyway.

“I’ll get you back to your quarters,” Cody said, softly, and Obi-Wan nodded. He should have never imposed on them, anyway.

Shouting woke Obi-Wan from a dream of clawing hands and teeth, eating into him. He jerked, terror translating over into the waking world for a moment--

And he reached out with the Force, trying to find out what was going on, and the first thing he touched was Cody’s mind, close by, overfull with fierce, bright emotions, all burning edges, protectiveness and anger blazing out of him.

“Sir!” a voice yelled from the doorway as light flooded in, and Obi-Wan’s memories slotted into place. He’d… fallen asleep in his bunk. He had no idea how long he’d slept, but his head felt heavy. “We’ve reached the coordinates,” Shortfuse said, worry and excitement moving through him. “And there’s a ship waiting, sir. Thought you’d want to know.”

“Kriff,” Obi-Wan said, rubbing at his face, glad to have something to focus on, something to hold onto. “I suppose we’d better go see who it is.”

“I’m not sure you should be here,” Cody said, five minutes later, as they reached the docking port on the ship. He’d said it three times already, expression flat and emotions tightly contained. “We can handle this.”

“So can I,” Obi-Wan said, lightly, checking the blaster in his hand again. He disliked using the weapons, but he disliked more the idea of using Anakin’s bloody red lightsaber, ever again. He listened to the docking ports whirl and hum, stretching out his senses towards the other ship, shivering at what he picked up, hesitating to believe it was real.

“Besides,” he said, as the airlock hissed, preparing to open, “I don’t think we’re going to have trouble.”

It had been years since he’d felt the mind on the other side of the door. And it was not...quite the same. There were major differences. But…

He held his breath as the airlock rose, caught a flash of white, and heard Cody make a harsh, flat sound. Cody grabbed him - apparently not so leery of touching him, now - and yanked him back a step, blaster up and drawn on the man in trooper armor on the other side of the door, who was also moving, shoving the figure with him back a step, moving in front of her, blaster raised.

Obi-Wan gripped Cody’s wrist, forcing his hand down, snapping, for the benefit of the rest of his men, “Don’t shoot! No one fire a shot, do I make myself clear?”

And, from behind the trooper before them, a familiar voice said, cracking with shock, “Master Obi-Wan?”

Ahsoka stepped around the side of her partner - and Obi-Wan thought he recognized Rex’s mind, too, not understanding how that was possible - ignoring him when he tried to pull her back a step, hissing, “What the kriff are you doing?”

“They’re not chipped,” Obi-Wan said, staring forward, at a ghost. He’d thought Ahsoka dead, like all the rest of their family, but there she stood in front of him, taller and sharper, her montrals curved and pointed, but her eyes just the same, wide and shocked and aching.

“Master?” she croaked again, taking a step towards him, looking him up and down, her expression growing more and more horrified by the moment. And then she was to him, reaching out, and Cody made a hard, sharp sound in his throat, gripping Obi-Wan’s arm and pulling him bodily back a step.

“It’s alright,” Obi-Wan said, not sure who he was talking to, specifically. Perhaps all of them.

Past Ahsoka’s shoulder, the trooper in the airlock removed his helmet, familiar blond hair still trimmed short, a few new scars over his face, and Rex was alive; Ahsoka was alive. Bail had sent them to Obi-Wan, he’d--

Ahsoka made a hoarse sound, and threw herself at him, arms around his neck, pulling him close. Obi-Wan buried a flinch, an automatic drive to jerk away from her. He managed, after a moment, to curl his arm around her, instead, while, somewhere far away, Rex demanded, “What the kriff is going on?”

#whumptober2020 #no.23 #exhaustion #references to past torture and non con #mental anguish #guilt and emotional trauma #oof!au #my writing #codywan #they're getting there #and look #help!

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fortheloveoffanfic · 4 years

Text

The Arrangement

John Wick x Reader (A/n- writing sex from John’s perspective, don’t expect me to do it again. Shit’s hard af. Pun not intended but appreciated)

Masterlist The Arrangement Masterlist

Warnings- NSFW/SMUT, dom/sub, thigh riding, kinbaku, sense depravation, gagging, hair pulling, erotic photography, angst.

I Can Be Your Whore

Nights without sleep were frequent and it was quickly becoming harder to count how many days had passed. The mission was supposed to be a quick one, they were supposed to make it quick. They were the Marines after all. But something had gone sorely wrong, the other side was more prepared than they thought, with everything from bombs and traps hidden in the sand to an old, depleted base infested with fighters. Some of them were men, hardened in life, but most were merely boys, at most sixteen, who’d been snatched, or probably given up by their families for a cause they under different circumstances, they wouldn’t have understood.

John hated it. Of course, he’d been trained, toughed up and taught that it didn't matter how old they were, as long they held a gun in their hands, they were a threat. But they were still kids, and putting bullets in the heads of mere teenagers wasn’t what he’d signed up for. Though, it was too late to change his mind now.

By the time the sun had sent, the desert taking on a chill, most of their enemies had seemingly disappeared; they’d either killed them all, or whoever remained, had escaped. Still, their squad’s captain had thought it would be best to stay, though hidden as best as they could be, ready to attack if anyone returned.

“Wick,” his sergeant hissed loudly from his hideaway behind a structure so broken that it resembled a huge boulder, “Get around,” he made a circle motions with his pointer finger, "Find Darby and kill whatever’s in your way, got it?”

“Yes sir,” John nodded stiffly, giving his gun a final once over before sneaking out of his designated hiding spot. With the night as his cover, John kept low, his steps light and hurried as he inched towards the building. If it weren’t for the blood rushing in his ears, he might have been able to hear the erratic thumping of his heart. His nagging thoughts were clouding his better judgement, forcing him to go around the deteriorating stone building and not through it and as hard as he tried, John just could shake them off.

Something’s wrong, more wrong than usual.

Something’s wrong.

Something’s wrong!

“Darby?” John called out to a man standing in the center of an empty room, he could see him though what he could have only assumed used to be a window, “Darby, what the fuck are you doing man? Cap’s looking for you.” Still, the man didn’t make a move to turn to John, instead, still standing with his back to him, completely unprotected while the heaviness of nightfall skewing his defining features

Anything could happen

And something was wrong.

“Darby!” John called a bit louder, hoping to not draw out any of their enemies, “Man, don’t fucking play, they could-” When Darby eventually turned, John still could barely see his friend’s face, though, what he could see was only illuminated by a blinking red light coming from his chest. “No,” he gasped, his mind going a mile a minute. It would be foolish to get any closer, but he couldn’t just leave his brother in arms like that, with a bomb strapped to his chest.

Then it hit John; it wasn’t just them. The entire team was scattered about the place, if that bomb went off, when it went off, they’d be lucky to see life after it.

“I’m sorry,” Darby sobbed and when John moved to jump through the gaping hole in the wall, Darby stumbled back, “You can’t do this Wick.”

“Why the hell not?” John’s words were a gravely grunt and he slung the rifle behind his back, “I’m not gonna just let you die,” they’d known each other since the academy, Darby was probably John’s only friend since he’d left the orphanage at eighteen, he couldn’t just let things play out like that.

“Cause you’re gonna get yourself and the rest of the team killed, you need to go out there and tell them to run,” when John drew closer, his footfalls now heavy on the concrete, audible and echoing.

“John,'' another voice called out to him, though John thought it was strange, though still familiar. No one from the squad ever called him by his first name, in fact, he thought it had been months since he last heard it.

“You need to go!” Darby warned.

“John?”

“Just fucking go Wick,” Darby tried to shove him away, just as John flashed his torch on the bomb, the tangle of wires confusing to the untrained eye and the timer with barely five seconds left.

“I’m not leaving you!” John argued.

“John,” again, she called his name.

“You don’t have a choice,” Darby was already accepting his fate, walking backwards through an old, worn doorway, “You were a good friend Wick.”

“No!” What happened next was a blur and all John registered was the perilous beeping off the bomb, the time up, and then the deafening ‘boom’ as it went off. He’d only gotten to the window he’d come in from, making it out just as the explosion began.

“John!”

She. She was like the first rays of sunlight after months of winter. Her touch was warm and calming, her words soothing, but only because they were said with her voice.

Her face took shape in his mind first, leading him out of the disaster safely, though it was funny, that wasn’t how John remembered it. His version had more pain, more gore, more death. But after she’d taken his hand, it had seemed to fade, consuming black gaining a welcome light. She protected him, she gave him something that reminded him that the world wasn’t all bad.

The light she brought, it was brighter than most others, brighter that the flames that had remained though, it was fading. Fading fast and John couldn’t keep up. She couldn’t leave, she can’t leave him, not like this. Not when he needs her.

He awoke with enough of a startle to have Y/n’s bones jumping out, grabbing her shoulders harshly, his grip tight and assaulting. “John,” her breath caught and her eyes were wide.

It took a while; his mind settling and his heaving chest resuming to some state of normalcy. John’s eyes, from what Y/n could make out in the darkness of the bedroom, still looked frenzied and wild. His hair was matted to his face, sweat soaked and greasy. Y/n had never seen John like that; he wasn’t like the man she knew, the one who was in control of everything around him and who could dominate a room by just walking in, instead, he seemed shaken and afraid, maybe even a little broken. Still, Y/n loved him, she’d love every version of him, always, even if he’d never know it.

“Are you okay?” She asked tentatively. Now that John had settled, Y/n was afraid that she had overstepped some unwritten boundary.

“Yeah,” John cleared his throat, quickly reassuming his usual self, not wanting Y/n to see that side of him for any longer. When she offered the glass in her hand though, John accepted it with a mumbled thanks, taking a few gulps of water, not even realizing how dry his throat was until the glass was at his lips. “What are you doing awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she downcast her head, fiddling with the tie on her robe, “I got up to get some water, and I heard you. If I overstepped, I’m sor-”

“You need rest,” John cut her off. Y/n desperately longed to ask what his dream was about, what had upset him so deeply that he was screaming and tossing fitfully in the sleep, but she knew that there were some things that John simply wouldn’t entertain. He spoke when he wanted to, always giving what he thought was enough, never making the mistake of oversharing. As a testament, she could count every personal detail that she knew of John with her fingers. Y/n wished she knew more, she wanted to, if only he’d let her in.

“Are you okay?” He turned on the lamp, searching her gaze and temporarily forgetting his own troubles, “Talk to me,” he urged.

“I’m fine,” she reassured, “Would you like me to do anything before I get back to bed?”

“No,” his dismissal was gruff and brief, “Goodnight Y/n,” leaning over, John pecked her forehead, his groomed beard scratching her skin, the feeling lingering even after he pulled away.

“Goodnight John,” Y/n stood from the bed, starting the walk out of his room. But as she neared the door, Y/n couldn’t bring herself to leave, she didn’t want to just leave him like that, it was her job to make him feel good, to tend to his needs, not just sexually, but be a listening ear and a comforting haven. “John?” Y/n turned, finding that he was still sat up against the pillows, just about to turn the lamp off. His response was a hum, one that encouraged her to ask her question, “Can I sleep with you? Just for tonight, please?”

John sighed heavily, debating her request. He’d made it clear months ago that he didn’t have any interest in sleeping together, Y/n didn’t ask why, but she suspected that intimacy and that level of vulnerability wasn’t something he was used to. Or maybe he just wasn’t capable of it all together. She didn’t like that thought.

“Come here,” John eventually beckoned her over, “Take that off,” he gestured to her robe, watching intently as it slid off her shoulders, revealing the little silk nighty that Y/n was wearing beneath. “Now come,” John peeled the sheets back and Y/n got under, letting him drape them over her. The entire interaction felt awkward and unlike all the other times he’d given her instructions. Maybe it was because those had come after she’d seen him when he was down, maybe it was because even he seemed a so uncomfortable giving them.

It was uncharted territory for them both.

When they were both tucked under the duvet, Y/n turned on her side while John remained flat on his back, “Goodnight John,” she offered, gripping the covers loosely.

After a minute, John’s low voice broke the steady silence, “Goodnight Y/n.”

The hardwood beneath her tucked legs was cool, though not chilly, and as she'd been stationed there for going on three hours, the position had gone from being slightly uncomfortable to one she'd grown accustomed to. Occasionally, when he wasn't typing, John would reach slightly to the side and affectionately run his fingers through her hair, which cascaded down her shoulders in loose waves. No words were exchanged between them; he didn't care for chatter while he worked and Y/n was too deep in thought to concern herself with menial conversation anyway.

Her mind kept replaying everything that ha happened since the night before, when she’d gone into his room and then asked if she could sleep in his bed. Y/n had awoken without him that morning and she just finishing the washing up after making breakfast when John had finally appeared, his white t-shirt stained at the front with what looked like ink and smelling oddly of glue. He'd looked a little worn too, as if he'd been up extremely early, though, Y/n didn't dare be the one to strike up the topic. Likewise, John seemed completely unaffected, not even speaking to Y/n until he decided to inform her that they'd be spending the afternoon in his study and what he'd expected her to wear.

Just a couple hours later, Y/n was sauntering into the study, waiting in the doorway for an invitation. His eyes, steady and dark, had roved her scantily and provocatively clad figure, dressed in a set of black, frilly lingerie, leaving very little left to the imagination; a thin g string, a bralette that barely covered anything and a garter belt attached to her underwear and dark stockings. Little silk bows and chiffon frills had been strategically placed to soften the appearance of the outfit, but it was what it was, as John had stated on the card stuck to the gift box, “a pretty thing for my favorite whore.” Her shoes were courtesy John too, a matching pair of peep toe stilettos that added six inches to her ordinarily demure stature. John absolutely adored seeing her in heels.

He hadn’t said anything, simply waving her in and gesturing to the floor next to him, and Y/n knew well enough what his soundless signals meant. They meant she’d have to stay put until further notice. And she did, closing her eyes in contentment when he’d smoothen his hand over her hair and letting her thoughts run wild when he’d immerse himself in his work; his fingers tapping keys on his laptop and occasionally making lengthy phone calls that always ended with heavy exasperated sighs. Y/n thought of everything; from how mollified she was to be some sort of haven from the stress and how much she yearned to be more than just an escape to what life would be like for her in the next year, if John decided that he didn’t want her anymore.

When a frustrated swear left his lips and he tossed his pen, Y/n almost jumped, not daring to look up at him, but still concerned, “Is everything okay Sir?”

John turned his head towards the meek question calling his attention. It was rare for Y/n to speak without permission, she was typically inclined to sit in silence, until he requested otherwise. She was certainly the perfect little pet. But that afternoon, when her concern pierced the quiet, he wasn’t upset in the slightest. In fact, John didn’t quite know what he was feeling, he hadn’t since the night before, when she’d woken him from his nightmare and then asked if she could spend the night with him in a way he usually preferred not too. Half of him wanted to hate it, so he could maintain control, so she wouldn’t get too close and forget her role in his life, but the other half urged him to enjoy it; he hadn’t laid with someone like that in almost twenty years, probably when he was Y/n’s age.

What had made it worse was when he’d awoken before six am, only to find himself turned towards her back, with one of his bulky arms draped over her, holding Y/n to him. Startled and unnerved by their closeness, by the unspoken intimacy of spooning, John had hastily shuffled out of bed, pulling on a t shirt to go with his sweats, he’d brushed his teeth quickly and wandered out to a logwood shed near the side of the house, where he kept some bookbinding equipment. It was something he usually did when he wanted to clear his head; sex was stress relief, bookbinding was for clarity. Though, it hadn’t really worked that morning, for when he came face to face with Y/n in the kitchen, John still wasn’t sure what he felt when he saw her. Their trip was supposed to convince Y/n to continue as his sub, not turn their relationship into something it wasn’t. Yet, that was exactly what it had been doing; lately, their interactions felt…..romantic, and John didn’t do romance.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, only just realizing that he hadn’t responded, and, being too frustrated with his work to pay any more attention to it, John decided to take control where he knew he’s always had it. “Come,” he patted his knee, pushing back his chair a bit to allow for Y/n to have some room.

Easily, she sank into his lap, facing her front to his, her immodestly exposed breasts just a glance away. His rough hands found the curve of her waist, her skin warm and silken beneath his familiar touch, “I haven’t given you much attention today, have I?”

Pouting, Y/n’s petite hands found his firm biceps, the muscle straining beneath his simple, dark button up. Through her lashes, she looked between them, her gaze only ever reaching his lips, spotting the rare fleck of grey in his groomed beard, “No Sir.” Her fingers inched upwards, reaching his shoulders and massaging them slowly. Tension tightened his muscles, though, under her ministrations, John could feel it starting to melt away, “But it’s okay,” she continued absently, “Even if I miss you, I know you’re busy.”

Smiling softly, John admired her in his arms, the way her brows loosely knitted in concern and how her quips sounded so innocent and youthful, “You miss me babygirl?” He grinned mischievously, guiding her into grinding his thigh, knowing full and well how much she’d enjoy it.

Hesitating, Y/n blushed and a shy smile tickled her pink lips, “I always miss you when you're gone Sir.” There was a slight shake in her voice, and that was how John could tell that the friction brought on by the coarse denim coupled with the flimsy strip of fabric constituting her panties was already having an effect on Y/n. Her grip on his shoulders tightened and he could feel her nails digging in as she arched her back, now moving on her own, moaning quietly as her arousal grew. “Sir,” she gasped, pressing down on his thigh.

“So beautiful,” he hummed, moving some hair away from Y/n’s face, one hand still holding her steady at the waist. His erection strained against the zipper of his jeans, begging for freedom, “You want more, don’t you?” Watching her like that, knowing that he was the one with all the power, the one who could leave her a horny, frustrated mess or bring Y/n sweet release. The power that John wielded over her, it was more than enough to get him drunk. He liked it, no, more than liked it, he absolutely adored it. “Beg for it,” he rubbed his thumb along her flushed cheek, gritting his teeth at his strained hard on as he smiled, “Beg for my cock, like the little slut you are.”

“Please,” whimpering, Y/n ground harder, feeling her swollen clit throb want need, her body longing for more, “Please Sir, I need your cock.” The sound of Y/n’s low, rasped voice had John’s grip on her waist tightening and his breathing going ragged. “I want you, so bad,” her quivering voice continued.

“Only me?” He grunted, moving his free hand from her face to palm his crotch through his pants, “Say it Pet, say you're mine. Tell me who you belong to,” Her eyes were screwed shut, and for the first time in almost a week, John felt like he was truly in his element. There were no blurred lines, no maybes or what ifs, nothing extra about the way she made him feel; they were merely reminiscent of master and sex slave.

“Uhh,” the hitched breath came with Y/n’s long manicured nails sinking deeper into his shoulders, probably growing more and more frustrated as seconds ticked on. “I’m yours Sir, only yours.”

“So good for me,” John praised lowly, “Now go upstairs to my room, and wait face down in bed. Understand?”

Whining in annoyance, the ache in her center surely begging for attention, Y/n nodded, dragging herself out of his lap and letting her wobbly feet lead her out of the room. Taking a moment to collect himself, John stood a few minutes after, undoing the buttons of his shirt, shrugging it off only to toss it to his leather chair, not caring whether or not it slipped off. On his way up to his bedroom, he also undid the worn brass button on the top of his jeans, the mere inch of freedom not doing much for his acing arousal. He wanted her; to feel her around him, warm, wet and tight.

As instructed, when John arrived in the room, Y/n was sprawled on the bed face down, her hair shrouding her face. Taking a moment to drink her in for the absolute vision she was, he proceeded to make his way to one of his bags, set on the bare top of the sleek dresser, opening up the zipper- unless he was going in, John always kept that bag closed when he traveled. It was the bag that held his…...toys, for when he brought subs along. It was in fact a rare occurrence, to have one of his play things accompany him to trips; John rarely vacationed, and business trips hardly afforded the time for beautiful distractions.

From the small suitcase, he produced some rope, the fibers not too coarse, rough enough to leave behind a few mementos and made especially for the purpose he’d intended. Doing a double take, John also snatched up a plain, black, silk blindfold, unintentionally, it matched Y/n’s lingerie perfectly, a ball gag that they were both readily familiar with, and their favorite safe word substitute; the little blue ball. Going over to the bed, John crooked one of his legs on the mattress as he sat, placing the armory within reach. “I want to tie you up today,” he hummed nonchalantly, bringing his hand to her ass, rubbing his palm in slow circles on her smooth skin, “It’s been awhile since we’ve done that. What do you think? Would you like that?”

John’s hand momentarily slipped between her thighs, his thick, sturdy fingers brushing her clothed cunt, feeling how Y/n’s wetness had seeped through the fabric. Just the slightest touch was enough to have her moaning softly, his question falling out of memory as she tried to wiggle into his hand. Y/n could feel John’s eyes, his gaze warm each time it swept her scantily clad form, his digits now pressing into her clit through her black panties. Eliciting another depraved groan, she shifted on the perfectly made sheets, burying her face in the pillows.

When John raised his hand again, it was to spank her, hard and without warning, resulting in Y/n crying out half his surprise half in pain. Just as her skin reddened, he rubbed again, gently, warding off any bad bruising, “I asked you a question,” his urgent growl was near her ear and his hot breath blew some of her hair, “Would you like that? To be tied up and gagged so I can use this pretty pussy however I like.”

“Yes,” she choked out, desperate for more, “Please Sir, use me,” Y/n encouraged, “I’m yours.”

Smirking, John wasted not a moment more; peeling off Y/n’s panties and getting to work. The knots were tied with trained precision and insurmountable patience. Work like that wasn��t often done quickly; intricate patterns across her chest around her neck and binding Y/n’s hands behind her back in three places would certainly take time, each placement meant specifically to maximize her pleasure. It was meticulous work, but it was no secret that John Wick was a patient, focused man, one who’d ensure that every detail was to his liking.

After her chest and hands, were Y/n’s legs, which were comparably easier. In no time, he’d parted her legs, folding her calves over her thighs and binding them tightly, effectively rendering her physically powerless. With each knot, executed with expertise and tightened with experience, John felt himself slipping into the comfort and ease of being in total control. He knew every risk, had assessed them several times over and had worked out the solutions, he knew exactly what he was doing and John knew with absolute certainty that whatever happened next was totally up to him. Y/n was powerless, at his mercy and absolutely trusting of his judgement. She was his, and when all else failed, went wrong or awry, John knew that he could seek Y/n out to offer him what he sought most; control.

Satisfied that she was bound, John placed the ball in her hands, reminding her of how it was to be used before crawling off the bed to admire his handiwork. Y/n looked so perfect, the kind of perfect that was the thing of a pornographic film, the kind of perfect that he wanted to save the sight for a long time. That was when the idea struck him, and John walked around to the side of the bed, situating his lips over her ear, “You look gorgeous like this,” he pecked her cheek, “I want to take pictures of you,” sending shivers up her spine as he did, John caressed her neck, occasionally twirling silky locks around his fingers, “Nod if that’s okay.”

When she hesitated, John thought that she was going to signal no, by squeezing the little toy fitted in her palm, but eventually, Y/n appeased, nodding against the sheets. “Good,” he murmured, returning to the dresser, using a little remote to turn on the stereo before collecting a semi-professional camera. Setting the right mood after that was merely child’s play; closing the heavy curtains and dimming the lights a little before finding the perfect angle, where the camera would catch every salacious detail.

With heavy metal blasting through the speaker, masking any noise that would threaten the moment, John slowly worked his way through different angles. Every snap was more arrestingly vulgar than the last and his cock twitched eagerly, ready to be buried between her thighs, fucking her into oblivion. Being with her, dragging his hands along her body as her cunt squeezed his cock, hearing her strained noises and having Y/n it his whim, Y/n specifically, was unmatched. It was otherworldly, he’d even go as far as saying the power made him feel as if he were something of a god.

“That’s it Kitten,” he praised lowly, “You’re so fucking sexy, and you’re all mine.” Through with the pictures, he made short work of getting completely disrobed, then climbing onto the bed, between her legs. Even in the low lighting, he could see the slickness gathered on her folds, the prurient view making him buck his hips.

Without more warning that a hand on her waist, he took her from behind, the blaring music shrouding his unmanned grunt. Y/n’s body shifted higher up into the bed as a consequence of his roughness and thoughtlessly, John grabbed a handful of her messy tresses, wrapping it around his fist, yanking her head back and planting his lips on her neck. His hulking frame was only restrained from crushing her by his free forearm sunken into the mattress as a brace. Beneath him, he could barely make out her muffled whines each time he thrust into her violently.

Maintaining his volatile pace, John released her hair, only to hold her to him with his arm secured around her chest. As he ground against her, the fibers of the rope holding her hands against her back chafed his sweaty chest while the ones binding her legs rubbed against his thighs. She felt so fucking good too; warm wet walls closed in around him, accommodating him perfectly. And the way it felt when his balls slapped her cunt was utterly euphoric. It was always easily to lose himself during their scenes, nothing beyond the physical mattered and he knew exactly what her limits were; how much he could give and take without hurting her. Maybe he couldn’t understand what he felt when they weren’t naked and touching each other, but when they were; John was in a realm that he’d created.

John could feel her tensing up as he fucked her with rabid intensity, holding back on her release until he permitted. “Come for me,” he growled into her ear, burying his face in the side of her head. The fruity smell of her shampoo tickled his senses, cementing her presence. Y/n was there, with him, all he’d have to do was persuade her to stay.

Her walls pulsated around his member, waves of hot, slick moisture rushing out to sticky their thighs and she struggled to scream, dribbling around her gag. Y/n’s juices leaked onto his already heated skin as she milked him, weaning John closer towards his own orgasm.

It was hard to maintain control of his thrusts as his toes curled with the exultation accompanying his climax. It was like a lid had been blown off, in the most pleasurable way. Fighting to continue bucking his hips, John filled her up, spilling ribbons of cum as he stayed nestled deep inside. “Fuck,” he groaned, the husky solicitation drowned out by the edgy screaming from the speaker “You know how good it feels to cum inside you sweetheart?” The words were garbled and choked, though John knew Y/n would appreciate the sentiment, if she’d even heard them. He liked when she knew, it made her feel good, and he could tell.

Collapsing on top of her, his body far more relaxed than it had been when they’d been downstairs, John took a moment to gather his thoughts and catch his breath before pulling out and rolling off her, wincing ever so slightly as he did. The first thing he did after that was undo the straps of Y/n’s ball gag, followed by the silk blindfold that had formerly barred her vision. John would have had to be blind himself to miss the moisture from her eyes that had soaked through the fabric. “Are you okay?” Worry immediately plumed in his chest. Had the music been a bad idea? What if she’d squeezed the ball and he’d missed it in his selfish haste?

Stopping before he continued with the ropes, John searched Y/n’s reddened eyes, cupping her cheek and using the pad of his thumb to brush away what appeared to be the final tear, “Talk to me babygirl. Did I hurt you?” She Y/n trusted him, and if he’d missed the signal, then John had just betrayed her; how could he expect her to stick around after that?

Trying to slow her heavy breaths, Y/n nuzzled his palm, licking her lips, and sighing soft before managing a breathless, faint smile, “No Sir, that was…….amazing.”

An immense sense of relief washed over him at her reassurance, and with a relieved chuckle, John leaned over to affectionately peck the top of her head, missing the way she closed her eyes contentedly at the simple gesture. “I’m glad to hear that,” he sighed, tucking some behind her ear, “You were very good today, I think we’ll have to get you something special when we get home. How does that sound?”

As he moved on to undoing the intricate knots, one by one, releasing her arms first and revealing angry red bruises where the rope had been tightest. He knew she was used to them by then, but when they left in a couple days, Y/n would have to wear a sweater. John was so consumed with the task that he’d barely noticed that she hadn’t answered him, already thinking of what he could get her. Y/n had never been hard to please outside of the bedroom, she was simple and John thought she could find the best in anything, and anyone.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he huffed, eventually shuffling off the bed, using some tissues from his nightstand to quickly clean up before pulling on a pair of sweats, “I’m going to run you a bath,” and catching the heaviness of her eyes before he disappeared into a bathroom, John warned sternly, “Don’t fall asleep yet.” Vaguely, he heard her mumble a simple ‘Yes Sir,’ in response, and it was in a tone so dazed that he knew better than to trust it, deciding to hurry up on getting the tub ready for her. He knew Y/n well enough that after intense sessions, she was subject to dozing off, too tired to do much for herself

All in all, it had taken about an hour to finish after care, though John never minded. It was his job to take care of Y/n and it was certainly one he enjoyed. Despite the time they’d taken with him helping her in the bath, it hadn’t felt that long before they were finally on the bed again, with the dirty covers pulled back. Armed with a brush, he situated her between his legs, gently combing through the wet tangles. From the very start, John could tell without her ever having to say it that she preferred when he brushed her hair dry, as opposed to using the dryer. He didn’t mind though, he’d cut out any amount of time just to do it if that was what Y/n wanted.

That afternoon, like every other after they’d been together, she was quiet, opting to pick at a thread on her towel as he worked. Y/n’s silence was often welcome and he never wanted to push her into a conversation, but that evening, John knew that they had to talk. He’d put the matter off for too long anyway. “We need to talk,” he began.

“Huh?” She twisted to face him, eyes wide with curiosity and lips agape. She was gorgeous like that, so youthful and innocent, far unlike how corrupted and tainted he was.

“It’s about our contract, it ends in two weeks,” he licked his lips, unable to gauge her reaction, “I was thinking, if you’re still happy with our arrangement, we could go through with another year.”

Still, even with furrowed brows and pursed lips, John could barely tell how she felt, “You want me to stay?” She broached meekly, tilting her head, “And we’d be just like this, for another year?”

“Yes, unless there’s something you don’t like.” For some reason, his heart quickened. It was far different from the very first time he’d asked her to be his sub, when he’d taken her to dinner in Manhattan. Y/n hadn’t seemed too onboard with the idea back then either, but that evening, with his touch on the center of her back and the evidence of their time together staining the dark sheets, the stakes were higher. Back then, he just wanted her, but right now, he didn’t want to lose her.

Averting her pensive gaze to the mahogany floor beyond the California king, Y/n’s voice shook slightly as she inquired, “Can I think about it?”

In an instant, taking him completely by surprise, John’s heart dropped to his stomach. Needless to say, that wasn’t the answer he was expecting, and really, all he could do was think that her indecision meant no. Still, he couldn’t pressure her, it wouldn't be fair, and all he could do was say; “Yeah, sure. Take your time.”

*****

Tagging- @theonlyone-meeeee @wishuhadstayed @danietowwo4 @baphometwolf666 @iworshipkeanureeves @howtoruinsomeones-perfect-day @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves

#keanu reeves #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #john wick fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #the arrangement

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yeenybeanies · 3 years

Text

Robotics and Dentistry

happy new year! this piece is part of a few writings i’ve done in a lil crossover between doom and transformers that @that-prey-lounge & i have been talking about for a while now

setback ( transformers oc ) & the doom slayer / william ( doom )

2,013 words

language warnings, mild mentions of gore, some mouth exploration

thanks for reading!! reblogs > likes!!

“ How the hell did you get something stuck in there? Isn’t your diet liquid? ”

“ It is, yes, but I— “ Setback frowned and tightened his jaw, though it only further irritated the pain in his mouth. This was an embarrassing predicament he’d gotten himself into, and couldn’t get himself out of alone. “ I got frustrated, and I bit a demon’s head off, ” he muttered.

Will stared at him for a long moment, giving him a hard deadpan. Setback returned it in kind, refusing to break under the humiliation. This, unfortunately, was not the first time he’d used his teeth to finish off an adversary—squishy or otherwise. It wasn’t a common tactic he employed, mind, but sometimes the situation called for a swift, decisive crunch to conclude things.

“ Does it hurt? ”

“ It’s bothersome. ” Yes, it hurt, but he didn’t want to admit it so easily––not with Will looking at him like that. “ Are you going to help me or not? ” The mech pushed a sharp huff through his vents. He had half a mind to disregard Will and deal with the pain himself. Surely whatever fleshy bit stuck in his teeth would rot away eventually. In the grand scheme of things, it’d only be a minor pain for an insignificant amount of time.

“ That’s fucking nasty. ” The human grimaced, but he clearly found some humor in the situation as well. He waved his hand, gesturing his consent to be lifted. “ Let me see. I’ll get it out for you. ”

It was nasty. Not only the feeling, but the sound of flesh crunching and tearing between his teeth still lingered, fresh, in Setback’s memory. He wrinkled his nose, but bent forward and brought his hand down to gently sweep the human off of his feet. He regarded him with a hard stare, as if warning him to keep his amusement in check. Its success was debatable at best. Setback found himself hesitating, even as he brought Will nearer to his face.

“ Well? ” Will swatted the tip of Setback’s nose, making him huff. He started to open his mouth, but he’d only just parted his lips when Will all but lept in, pushing past his incisors and canines. Setback grunted in surprise, jaw jerking down to accommodate the sudden presence.

Oh, he did not care for this.

Putting demons in his mouth was nasty, as Will had pointed out, but war brought out terrible things in people. Biting demons in half was one thing. Humans, however, were a different story—or this human, at least. Biting down on Will, or harming him in any capacity, was the last thing Setback wanted to do.

“ Jesus Christ… I didn’t know you actually had individual teeth. ” Will laid prone on the mech’s tongue, waist deep in his mouth, and studied his surroundings. Setback had dentition remarkably similar to a human’s, which Will found surprising. While all teeth were ( obviously ) larger, there were unmistakably molars, incisors, and some rather long, sharp canines. “ What the hell are these for? I have never once seen you chew anything. ”

Setback flinched a little at the thump to his lower right canine that followed. He tried to speak, but quickly realized that he couldn’t form any words around the human in his mouth. Will chuckled at the attempt nonetheless. The deep, growling voice so close, echoing around him, felt funny.

“ Yuhh hurry uh, ” the mech grumbled—or tried to.

“ Damn—you have li’l lights in here too? ” Will pulled himself further into Setback’s mouth. Luckily for the both of them, giant alien robots don’t have gag reflexes, so, while it was an odd sensation to feel tiny, human hands rubbing at the back of his throat—presumably at the biolights there—it wasn’t one that was going to make Setback hurl. It did, however, chip away at his already waning patience.

“ Ui’yuhh— “

“ Do they go all the way down? What’s the point of—hey! ” Setback pinched the human’s lower leg between two digits and unceremoniously pulled him out, dangling him upside down in front of his face. A string of oral fluid dripped from him. The mech levelled Will with a glare.

“ You are not helping, William. ”

Will looked up at his captured leg, and then met Setback’s glare, unbothered. “ I’m looking. Gotta find the damn thing. Let me back in. ” A smirk crossed his features. No doubt he was feeling a little smug about being needed.

“ Top right. Towards the back. ” He scrunched his nose and squinted at the human. Will was enjoying this. For what reason, he couldn’t figure out. Nevertheless, Setback opened his mouth and lowered him back in. He set him down with his back to his tongue, and leveled his head so Will could adjust his position himself.

The irritant, as he’d said, was lodged between his top, back molars. Will, now with direction, quickly found it and gave it an experimental tug. Even just a minor jostling of the tender area sent a twinge of pain into his circuits, and made him growl softly around the human.

Will felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound—or perhaps it was the sound itself that vibrated through his bones.

“ Looks like a piece of… I dunno, rib? I’m gonna pull on it; I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bite my arm off. ”

Setback hummed in response and locked his jaw in place. While he did trust his own conscious control, it didn’t hurt to add the extra safety measure for Will’s sake. Will pulled himself almost fully into the mech’s mouth, gripped onto the debris with both hands, and planted a boot against the hard palate for extra leverage. He gave a short countdown so Setback could brace himself––not that he’d thank him for such a courtesy––and gave a hard yank. The debris didn’t come free immediately. Will had to twist and wiggle and shake it, loosening it from between Setback’s teeth. The growling gradually grew louder, more intense, until it ended in a sharp grunt right in time with Will falling backwards on his tongue, the dislodged remains clutched in his hands. Setback closed his eyes for a moment and allowed himself a sigh. The mechanisms in his jaw groaned as the strain against the locked joint eased.

Will gave the slick, metal tongue beneath him a pat. “ There ya go, big guy. Feel better? ” He tossed the offending bone out, but made no moves yet to remove himself from Setback’s mouth. Instead, his attention returned to the teeth between which the bone was stuck. “ Doesn’t still hurt, does it? ” With hands much more tender, he rubbed along the sockets the teeth settled in—gums? They’d be gums, he supposed, though the words “ robot gums ” sounded strange in his mind.

The touch was not pleasant. The first rub agitated the soreness, and the second did so only marginally less. After the third rub, Setback growled a noise of protest. His tongue bucked under the human, pushing him up and towards his mouth opening, but Will blocked himself in, a hand and foot braced against the back of an upper and lower incisor.

“ Wait—hold on. ”

“ Hnn? Uah? ”

All of these new sights and sounds had Will so curious, so fascinated. Surely there could be no downside to knowing more of the anatomical workings of his Cybertronian companion.

“ Let me look around a bit more. This is all new territory. ”

Setback made a disapproving sound and gave Will another nudge, but the human kept himself stuck.

“ C’mon! You already let me explore all over your outside. I wanna check your cool-ass teeth out some more. ” Though he knew Setback couldn’t see him, he still made a puppy dog face—the same one he’d make whenever he sought the mech’s reluctant cooperation. “ Think of it as me learning more about you so I’ll be able to help more in the future. Or you could think of this as an exercise in how to be careful with me. ”

Setback rolled his eyes. He was careful with Will. He even had half a mind to argue—if his mouth weren’t currently full—that Will had admonished him for being too cautious with him on multiple occasions.

However, despite Setback’s reservations, and his suspicion that Will was just looking for excuses to continue his exploration, he found some merit in said excuses. With a heavy sigh, both reluctant and exasperated, the mech relaxed his tongue under Will. He could have his fun, if only for a little bit.

Will wasted no time. He laid back on the tongue and put both hands to the roof of Setback’s mouth. The fluid coating the mouth interior was slick to the touch, and made everything slippery. His hands glided along the palate in vague circular motions, feeling over the smooth metal. They then drifted back to the gums, this time on the opposite side from the sore spot, and traced the seams along the teeth. Fingers followed the seam from molars to incisors, and back to Setback’s upper left canine. To put things simply, it was a big fucking canine. Will estimated that it must have been six or seven inches long. He tested the tip’s sharpness on the heel of his hand, then did the same with the cusps on a molar.

“ Why do you have such big teeth? ”

The tongue shifted under him. Setback hummed, but, with Will occupying his mouth, he couldn’t offer anything of any coherence.

Looking to the outside, Will found amusement in how the teeth resembled stalactites and stalagmites, how it looked and felt sort of like he was spelunking in a cave. In a way, he sort of was. He twisted himself so he was back on his stomach, unbothered by the slime coating his clothing and skin, and crawled his way further into the slick cavern.

Setback was finding it bizarre, to say the least, to have Will––or anyone, really––rummaging around in his mouth. The taste was inoffensive, but the feeling was strange. It took a good bit of willpower not to shudder at the sensation of those little hands poking and prodding and rubbing around in there.

It also brought him some level of mental discordance. Most things that went in his mouth were either fuel or foes. Will was neither. Will was… a friend. Will was his only friend in this damned solar system.

And his friend was in his mouth, arguably in a very dangerous place. Yet, he was perfectly safe. That much Setback would ensure. He would not harm this human.

“ What would happen if you swallowed me? ”

Setback blinked. “ …huh? ”

Will gave his tongue a final pat, then pushed his way out of the mech’s mouth feet-first, right into his awaiting hands. He wore a pleased grin on his face as he shook his arms free of some of the goop.

“ I think I could fit. Where’s your fuel go when you drink? You’ve got some sort of stomach-thing, right? Or tank? ”

Now that he was free to do so, Setback unlocked his jaw and flexed it, working out the stiffness. The absurdity of the question was starting to sink in, slowly but surely.

“ I have a tank, yes…. Multiple tanks where energon is stored until it can be pumped where it is needed. ” Setback regarded the human with a dubious look. He did not like this line of questioning. “ Before you ask: no. I will not swallow you. ”

“ You say that now. ” Will’s grin took a turn for the smug.

“ I do say that now, ” Setback said. He scowled down at Will. “ I think we’re done here. ” Will started to protest, but Setback took a knee and lowered his hands to deposit him on the floor. Then came the pouting.

“ You’re welcome, ” he said. His indignation was light, but present. Setback rolled his eyes.

“ Thank you, William. ” He placed the tip of his index finger to the human’s chest and gave him a gentle shove, pushing him a step back. “ Go clean yourself off. ”

“ What if you just close your mouth with me in there? ”

“ William–– ”

“ What if I say ‘ pretty please ’ ? ”

“ Go. ”

#tf #doom #g/t #g/t writing #g/t fiction #g/t tf #g/t doom #setback #doom slayer #hyena writes #hyena ocs

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luxuriq · 4 years

Text

Cold | Alpha!Hanzo & Alpha!Genji

> NS/FW warning < | > NON-CON WARNING <

Part 2 [coming soon]

Summary: On a cold night, an Omega takes shelter in a garden shed of a mighty estate. Little does she know that the owners are still awake.

Words: 5,123

A/N: Why is it that some of my fav kinks have to be popular in a fanfic trope that I generally dislike. (ノωヽ) Anyways, this is my first attempt at writing abo, let me know how I did. c:

❀ — ❀ — ❀

The sky was heavy with clouds, the moon and the stars hidden, making the night appear much darker. The sound of rain falling and the rustling of leaves blocked out any other noises. Her breath fogged – it was unusually cold for late spring.

She pulled her coat tighter around herself as she ran down the empty street, hugging the wall fence like a shadow. She tried to suppress the shudders, but her clothes were almost entirely soaked through and the chill of the night was becoming really sharp. Moreover, the rain was getting stronger. She had to find shelter soon or risk hypothermia.

A batch of trees materialized out of the darkness ahead of her. Their branches reached over the wall fence, entwining with branches of the trees on the other side of the wall. That sparked an idea in her head. She’d been following this fence for a while now and she knew that the main compound building of this estate was all the way on the other side. Meaning this area here had to be a backyard. Hopefully, the owners were keen on gardening and had some kind of a shed back there.

She adjusted her backpack straps a little and swung onto one of the lower branches. The wood was slippery and her fingers almost numb from the cold so it was slow going, but she eventually managed to reach the height of the wall and peek over it. She strained her eyes to see through the dark of the deserted garden and— there! Luck was on her side. There was indeed a shed at the end of a gravel path coming from the direction of a huge mansion that was a pretty safe distance away.

She was well aware of the fact that this was risky. But her body was aching from the cold and there was a very slim chance of some rich and pretentious owner of this mansion deciding to garden at such a late hour on a rainy night. And the low trees with easy to reach branches on the estate’s side of the fence would provide a great escape route should anything go wrong.

She climbed down the branch, over the wide wall fence and dropped down into the garden. She silently landed in a crouch and sneaked through the neatly cut bushes and small trees towards the shed, ignoring the lingering feeling of dread. Her life was risky enough just because of the way she was born – there was really no need of increasing that risk by taking shelter in a garden that most certainly belonged to a powerful Alpha. And yet here she was, freezing cold and in desperate need to get dry.

After she slipped through the door, finally protected from the wind and downpour that just began, she only felt relief. Therefore, she needed a moment to process what she was seeing. There were some gardening tools in one corner, but most of the shed was filled with archery targets, bows, arrows and wooden swords.

A new wave of anxiety flooded her, but she tried to reason with it. Kyudo and kenjutsu were quite popular, especially among more traditionally oriented people. Maybe their hobby wasn’t gardening, but archery and sword-fighting – it didn’t really matter. All of these things are better performed during the day and when it’s not raining, so no reason for anyone to come in here during the night. And tomorrow, she will be gone before sunrise.

She picked the far corner where she was hidden behind some archery targets that conveniently obstructed the view. Taking off her wet coat, she hung it to the back of one of the targets, where it could hopefully dry until tomorrow. The hoodie underneath was mostly dry, as well as a small blanket in her waterproof backpack. Her jeans were a different matter, cold wet stains uncomfortable against her skin, but she decided against taking them off. It felt too much like exposing herself.

She dug into her backpack again, pulling out a small bottle and a bar of chocolate. She took a sip of her home-made concoction, completely unaffected by the taste that once made her gag and the burning sensation down her throat. She was just glad it worked as well as it did – her nerve-wracking, anxiety-inducing heats were a thing of the past, which meant she was in control of her body at all times, and although some Alpha might still sniff her out … well, she never stayed in one place long enough for that to happen. She wasn’t exactly sure about all of the side-effects of her home-made suppressants, but the recipe she based it on might have warned about bad things happening to one’s reproduction organs if used without break. Maybe that was the reason she used it so excessively. She refused to let whatever twisted fate that made her what she was define her life even more. Like being completely out of control once a month wasn’t enough, she would not have any Alpha – or anyone else for that matter – control her for the rest of the time when she was sane enough. She refused to be someone’s private pup factory.

And so she took one more little sip, silently cheering to possible infertility, and then stuffed her mouth full of chocolate. Pulling the blanket over her, she curled into a ball, adjusting her position on the floor in an attempt to find the most comfortable one.

She barely managed to close her eyes when she heard the sound that immediately flung her into a state of panic.

Footsteps. Getting closer.

As quickly as she could, she freed herself from the blanket cocoon and tugged on her dark coat. She pressed herself against one of the targets, fishing a knife out of the inner pocket of her coat. She didn’t have to wait long for the door of the shed to slid open.

“Man, what a downpour!”

It was a man’s voice. She gripped her knife tighter.

She couldn’t see what he was doing, but there was a sound of wood clattering (maybe the practice swords colliding?) while he was humming a catchy tune. She stayed behind her cover completely still, although everything in her head was screaming to either fight or run. Her knuckles were turning white from the tight grip she had on the handle of her knife and she prayed to whatever deity that might be listening for the man to go away.

Then the humming stopped. She held her breath. There was no sound of the door closing. What was he doing? Her eyes frantically searched for an escape route.

The footsteps – slower this time – heading towards the back of the shed.

Her body was tense as a bowstring, ready to leap at whatever came around the line of targets. Briefly, she realized that her hands were shaking.

A man appeared before her, his short green hair drenched in rain or sweat she couldn’t tell. She didn’t pay much attention to his appearance because as soon as the stench of an Alpha filled her nose, she flung herself at him like a feral cat. Her knife connected, cutting down his forearm, and he let out a surprised yelp. Almost at the same time, his other hand reached after her and she stabbed her knife in the direction it was coming from. He pulled away just in time to avoid the blade, taking a step back and crashing into some gardening tools.

With his hands finally at his sides, she leapt away from him, but in a different direction than the one she charged from – towards the door, towards freedom.

“Don’t try to follow me,” she snarled, her knife still pointed at the man as she retreated towards the door.

The green-haired Alpha was just staring at her like he couldn’t quite process what was happening.

She took another step back, already feeling the breeze coming through the open door. Almost there. A smile was threatening to surface and she had to bite her lip to keep it under control. Her wide eyes were reflecting a mix of panic, terror and a manic feeling of being victorious, which made for quite a terrifying sight.

And then her back bumped into something hard, stopping her dead in her tracks. Her heart sank. She was almost too afraid to turn around and face the new threat.

“What is the cause of this commotion?” came a deep voice from behind her.

The decision was made in a split second. She swiftly spun around and stabbed at whoever was standing behind her. A hand caught her wrist and held it in an iron grip, forcing her to drop her weapon. She slowly looked up into a pair of cold, dark eyes.

She wanted to scream in despair, but she was completely frozen by his watchful gaze. His Alpha scent was both haunting and intoxicating, and she resented her body for betraying her so easily.

“An intruder,” the newcomer said in an icy tone. “You will be punished for trespassing.”

He inhaled deeply through his nose and blinked. He leaned a little closer and sniffed the air again.

“What is it, brother?” the other one asked, taking a step closer and sniffing the air as well.

His eyes suddenly turned predatory, “Oh. Is that ...”

“Luck favours us, Genji. We must go and tell Father to cease the negotiations immediately. A stray Omega just waltzed right into our home. For free.” The dark-haired Alpha in front of her was watching her intently.

“Wait, you mean we can’t have her right now?” the green-hair – Genji – asked, staring at his brother in disbelief. “It’s been so long since we last touched an Omega! C’mon, Hanzo! You know Father doesn’t like to be disturbed during the night. We can tell him tomorrow and in the meantime, get acquainted with our new little Omega here.”

Hanzo thought for a second, then nodded. “We have to make sure she is worthy of carrying an heir to the Shimada clan.”

They were talking about her like she wasn’t even there, like she was just some object free for them to take. That’s what pissed her off about Alphas the most. And before she could think it all through, she punched Hanzo in the face.

He moved just enough for her to miss his nose, her fist connecting with his cheekbone instead. The grip on her wrist loosened up a little and she tried to yank it free.

It didn’t work, however. He gripped her even tighter with both hands, fury flashing in his eyes.

“How dare you,” he growled.

“Let go of me,” she demanded, but her shaky voice betrayed her.

“Omegas were made to be claimed by the Alphas. It’s in your nature,” Hanzo was saying through his gritted teeth as he hoisted her up and threw her over his shoulder.

She kicked her feet and banged at his muscular back with her fists, “In my nature my ass!”

“We are doing you a favour. You have gone completely feral without a proper Alpha to take care of you. Once we knot you, you will calm down,” Hanzo continued and started walking away from the shed.

“Let me go!” she screamed again and again, but the dark-haired Alpha was deaf to her pleas.

“Well, at least she’s got spirit. I think she will be perfect for us,” Genji commented in a light conversational tone as he trailed behind his brother and the Omega. “This late-night training session really paid off, isn’t that right, Hanzo?”

She didn’t see much of her surroundings as the Alphas navigated through the estate, her vision blurred by the tears of despair. A sound of doors sliding open and then she was falling. A rather comfortable futon eased her landing and she quickly scrambled onto all fours and looked around.

They brought her into a smaller tatami room, traditionally decorated and mostly empty. The sheets smelled faintly of flowers – more importantly, they didn’t smell like any of the Alphas, which meant that this was probably a guest bedroom or something similar. And there was only one escape route: through the door blocked by both of the Alphas.

She didn’t want to just sit on the futon and be an easy target, but she also didn’t want to back away. Where to? Being caught in a corner seemed even less appealing.

Before she could really commit to anything, Hanzo was crouching beside her, tugging her coat off her. She pulled her arms closer to her body, glaring at him in defiance.

“Cooperate or I will cut the clothes off your body,” the dark-haired Alpha growled.

She felt that Alpha growl all the way down in the pit of her stomach, her Omega instincts slowly awakening. At that moment, she hated herself, her body for responding to what she did not want and the twisted fate that made her this pathetic, submissive creature. Finding a nice Alpha mate who would take care of their Omega? That was just some fairytale bullshit. All Alphas were assholes, thinking they owned every Omega they came across. There were no happy endings for the ones like her in this world.

Her body was screaming to submit to the Alpha in front of her and yet she continued to scowl at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

Suddenly, Genji appeared on the other side of her, crouching down and caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers. She jerked away from him, surprised by the gentle gesture.

Hanzo took advantage of the distraction and grabbed the hem of her hoodie, pulling it up. She quickly put her hands down, keeping them pressed to her body and refusing to let him lift the fabric. But then Genji grabbed her wrists and with combined strengths, they unceremoniously stripped her of her clothes.

She shivered as the cold air enveloped her bare skin, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. As she moved, the feeling of slickness between her legs became more apparent and it was mortifying. Wide-eyed, she stared at the Alphas, waiting for them to pounce. Hanzo was watching her with a focus of a predator, despite in the middle of taking off his clothes. Genji was also maintaining eye-contact with her as he brought something to his nose, inhaling deeply. She recognized the bunched-up fabric as her underwear and she grimaced.

“Your scent is delicious, Omega,” he purred as he dropped the fabric and began stripping his clothes as well.

Hanzo was way ahead of him – already naked and advancing on her. Her gaze involuntarily trailed down his muscular body and to the hand stroking his almost fully erect Alpha cock. This was the first time she was seeing one in person and it made her both terrified and wanting. Even in this state, it was already bigger than any of the silicone replacements she had been using to ease her heats.

“Brother, wait,” Genji said, placing his hand onto Hanzo’s shoulder.

For some reason, a little spark of hope that he will stop this horrible thing and let her go appeared in her head.

“I found the Omega,” he continued in a rather neutral voice. “It is only fair that I get to breed her first.”

“And I caught the Omega,” Hanzo growled at him. “If it were only you, she would have gotten away.”

Dismissing him, the dark-haired Alpha turned to face her again.

“Open your legs, little Omega. I can smell your arousal,” he growled, but it was a different kind of a sound, one that made her core throb.

She tightened her grip around her legs, glaring at him with silent hatred.

His face darkened. With no warning whatsoever, he grabbed her ankles and pulled her legs towards him, making her fall onto her back. As an immediate response, she started kicking and flailing her arms.

“Let go of me!” she screamed, trying to aim her kicks at his face but with little success.

Hanzo held her ankles in a painfully strong grip, no signs of it letting up. The hopelessness of the situation was demoralising, but she didn’t stop squirming in his grip. He lifted his hands, pulling her legs up and in turn bringing her body closer. She twisted around as best as she could and gripped the futon in the final attempt to escape.

Another pair of hands gripped her wrists, forcing her to let go and flipped her back around. She knew it was Genji who now had her hands pinned down to the ground above her head, could see the flash of his green hair as he moved into a better position, towering above her.

“Hush, little Omega,” the younger Alpha purred. “We’ll make you feel real good, I promise.”

She looked at Hanzo with tears in her eyes. There was no way she could escape them.

“Please,” she sobbed, finally going limp in their hands.

Begging was her last resort – not that she had any hopes for it.

Silently, Hanzo gripped her ankles in one hand, using the other to guide his hefty cock to her weeping cunt.

“Please, I don’t want this,” she whispered, the image of the Alpha in front of her blurred due to her tears.

“Your body is telling me otherwise,” Hanzo said in a low voice. “Begging me to fill you, to breed you, give you the knot it so desperately wants.”

The head of his cock pressed against her slick folds. Her whole body tensed up in both anticipation and fear. She closed her eyes, the thought of watching him do this to her unbearable. She wanted it to hurt, she wanted her body to hate it. But when Hanzo’s girth finally entered her tight channel – the penetration practically effortless due to how wet she was, it was anything but painful.

The way his cock filled her up, reaching deep and stretching her walls so perfectly, was better than anything she’d ever used during her past heats. Another wave of pleasure raked through her body as Hanzo thrust into her again, her body reacting in a completely opposite way than her mind. She tried to hold on to that little bit of sanity she had left, tried to convince her body that this was not what she wanted; and yet, her pussy clenched down on the Alpha’s cock like her life depended on it, her back arching as every snap of his hips sent a sweet sensation through her body.

“No,” she whimpered quietly.

Hanzo changed his grip again, holding her by the back of her knees and keeping her legs slightly spread apart up in the air. This position gave him more access and he immediately set a punishing pace. His cock suddenly felt thicker and more filling, especially around the base, teasing her tight entrance even more intensely … With horror, she realized that his knot was already forming and she was fairly certain Hanzo wouldn’t be pulling out.

As an automatic reaction accompanying her urge to get away, she started wriggling in his grip again, which resulted in a situation quite the opposite of what she wanted. The Omega responding seemed to motivate Hanzo even further and he started pounding into her even more ferociously. She could only cry out and she wasn’t even sure if it was in protest or pleasure.

She barely even noticed Genji adjusting his hold on her wrists, now doing it with only one hand.

With his free hand, he gently petted her head and murmured soothingly, “You’re taking him so well, Omega. You’ll be perfect for us.”

She jerked away from him, startled by the tenderness of his touch.

“If you promise you will not kick, I will touch you. You would like that, wouldn’t you, Omega? Me playing with your clit while I breed you and make you come,” Hanzo purred, seemingly unaffected by how fast he was thrusting into her.

Her body screamed for some attention on that part of her body; wanted it, craved the high it will bring.

Mustering up all of her resolve and courage, she spat in his face, “I don’t want you to touch me. Anywhere. At all.”

She had thought he would be pissed, had mentally prepared for it and was willing to accept the consequences. However, the dark-haired Alpha only chuckled darkly, his thrusts suddenly slowing down to powerful snaps of his hips all the way in and all the way out. His knot had grown and was now harshly pushing and tugging at her cunt every time he moved, sending little jolts of pleasure through her body.

“Oh, I will enjoy breaking you into submission, my feisty little Omega.”

Hanzo leaned down and pressed his nose against her neck, humming appreciatively. His beard felt all prickly against her sweaty skin and she grimaced. He inhaled her scent again and licked her neck.

She wanted to scream in frustration, but the breathy sound that left her mouth was something entirely different. Hanzo ripped his half-formed knot out of her and she sobbed in a mix of pain and pleasure. Against all odds, she hoped it wouldn’t fit back in, but she had a hunch Hanzo will make it fit. He rammed back into her, knot and all, the tip of his cock hitting her cervix and making her yelp.

Suddenly, Hanzo yanked her up and flipped her onto her stomach, his cock staying buried deep inside of her. She tried to crawl away, but his firm chest pressed against her back, squishing her against the futon. His hips were moving in a slow rock. Her eyes widened in panic as his knot swelled to its final size, stretching her cunt to its limits. She choked out a quiet moan.

The feeling of being this full, this stretched out couldn’t compare to anything she had ever felt before. And beyond all the pleasure, the fear, the throbbing of her tight walls, there was a sense of completion, a sense of accomplishing something she was supposed to do. It was a dreadful feeling.

Hanzo’s loud moan pulled her out of her thoughts and in the next moment, there was an explosion of warmth in her belly as he painted her walls with his thick Alpha cum. A shudder ran down her spine, a more primal side finally taking over and relishing the feeling of this powerful Alpha breeding her so well. She arched her back, her cunt squeezing down on his knot, wanting more.

Hanzo let out a quiet grunt and rolled to his side, pulling her with him. Pushing his legs in-between hers, he kept them spread open while his hand dived straight for her core.

“Milk my knot. Beg me to give you more,” he growled.

When the rough pads of his fingers finally made contact with her sensitive nub, her body ignited in pleasure. It was due to both: Hanzo expertly playing with her clit and that delicious, hefty knot stretching her walls to oblivion. She barely even noticed Genji lying down next to them. He lazily tugged at his pre-come-dripping dick, watching his brother force an orgasm out of the Omega with interest.

It didn’t take long before she was writhing in his arms as waves of pleasure hit her like a storm – suddenly and strong. Too strong. Her pussy clamped down on Hanzo’s cock, making him groan and buck his hips as he released the final drops of his seed into her womb. She mewled quietly at this peculiar feeling of fullness in her belly, something she has never experienced before.

As the high calmed down, she sagged against the Alpha’s body and closed her eyes. Hanzo silently rearranged her limbs so that she was lying in a fetal position with his hand resting over her belly. It was the middle of the night, she was exhausted, well-bred and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep. And when she woke up, maybe this nightmare would be over.

Her eyes snapped open. She was tied to an Alpha who she did not know, who did not ask if she wanted this, who was most likely intending to keep her after he kidnapped her; and then there was another Alpha who was waiting to have his go with her and was guilty of all the same things. She felt like she was going to throw up.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed until Hanzo’s knot finally dissipated. She stubbornly kept her eyes closed throughout the whole waiting period, not only to make it more bearable but also to ignore the green-haired Alpha lying beside her, giving her the hungriest eyes she had ever seen.

When Hanzo finally pulled out, a copious amount of his thick cum flowed out of her spent cunt. But it was no time for celebrations. Hanzo’s hands hadn’t even left her body yet when she was yanked out of his grasp with ease.

She was on her back again, in the same position as before, but this time with Genji on top of her.

“Finally you’re mine, sweet Omega,” he purred into her ear.

At least she got the big bad out of the way first. Genji seemed nicer compared to his brother, gentler even.

“I wanted to make our first mating special and long,” he continued, “but my dear brother took his time, torturing me with the view. I’m afraid I won’t be able to last very long.”

He pushed back her legs, almost folding her in half. Wasting no time, he pressed the tip of his cock against her entrance. Thanks to her and Hanzo’s mixed fluids, it slipped in smoothly and with a lewd squelch accompanying it. Immediately, he thrust all the way in, making her gasp in surprise.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Genji moaned.

Holding her hands above her head, he practically lay down on top of her, keeping her legs spread with his body. There was no warm-up, just a brutal pace right from the beginning. She saw stars every time his massive Alpha cock hit her cervix, but not in a pleasant way. And yet there was some twisted pleasure coming from the fact that he was so close to her womb.

His knot had already started forming – he wasn’t lying about this being a quick session. And yet Genji fucked like it wasn’t even there, pushing it in and out of her sensitive pussy like a madman. She squirmed underneath him, crying out repeatedly.

“I love how you sing for me,” Genji purred.

He nuzzled her neck, inhaling deeply. Then his teeth grazed her skin and she froze. An Alpha knotting her was definitely bad, but Alpha’s teeth anywhere near her neck was a lot worse.

“I would love to make you mine,” he hummed. “A little bite is all it takes...”

“Watch it,” Hanzo interrupted him with a hiss.

She glanced to the side. Hanzo was lounging on the futon some distance away from them, showing off his naked body with no particular care. It was almost like he had been taking a nap until his brother’s words woke him up and now he was glaring daggers at Genji through half-lidded eyes.

Genji didn’t pay much attention to the other Alpha. He only chuckled lowly, dangerously.

“Maybe Father will let you pick your mate. I wonder who you would choose.”

He brought his hand up to her neck and slowly pressed down. Her eyes widened and she started wriggling underneath him in panic. That made Genji chuckle and he pressed down on her neck even more, not enough to completely cut the air off, but enough to make her struggle.

“Don’t,” she wheezed, her hand gripping his wrist. “Please.”

Genji leaned in, his mouth open slightly as if mimicking her; the corners of his lips curled upward in a devilish grin. He was watching her with interest as he squeezed her neck more firmly, effectively cutting off her airways. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish on the land, her eyes wide with terror. She had thought Hanzo was the worse one; that he was the brute. But Genji was even worse, manipulating her into a fake sense of security and then fucking her just as ruthlessly.

The green-haired Alpha let out a breathy chuckle and whispered, “You’re squeezing down on my cock like crazy. I think you might actually be enjoying this.”

Just when her vision started to get a bit blurry, he released his hold on her neck and she sucked in a lungful of air. And yet the relief was short-lived. Genji’s knot had grown considerably, had gotten almost too big to fit in, so when he rammed it in, the mix of pain and pleasure made her gasp.

He moaned loudly, shamelessly, his hips continuing to rock against her despite his knot already locking in. It made her toes curl and she found herself walking right on the edge of another climax. His hips only stilled when he was ready to add to the mess inside of her, filling her up with his thick seed to the point of where she thought she might burst.

Genji ground his hips against her a bit longer, determined to give her everything he had; and in doing so, he managed to push her off the edge again. She moaned when a shock of pleasure ran through her body, sparks dancing in her vision, her fingers digging into the futon. The reaction was purely physical, but the high was so intense that she completely forgot about the reality of the situation, her brain kicking back into primal mode again. And with her mind clouded from all of the different sensations, she simply found it very satisfying – being full of Alpha cum like this.

Genji eventually rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. She was exhausted, her womb full of rich Alpha seed, her pussy still gripping a solid knot; she didn’t put up much of a fight. Her head was resting against his chest and she was able to hear his heartbeat, still going a bit faster than normal. His hand found its way to her lower back, his thumb caressing her skin soothingly.

“You did so well, sweet Omega,” the green-haired Alpha purred lazily. “You will be an irreplaceable addition to the Shimada clan.”

A hum of agreement came from somewhere in Hanzo’s direction.

His words caused a shiver to run down her spine, her blood suddenly turning to ice. This nightmare was only just beginning. Despite the proximity of Genji’s body, she suddenly felt really cold.

❀

#hanzo shimada x reader #hanzo x reader #genji shimada x reader #genji x reader #omegaverse #alpha hanzo #alpha genji #alpha/omega #overwatch #oversin #arya writes

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hardkinkbardkink · 4 years

Note

What if geralt puts jaskier’s little cock in a cage. Maybe the smell of jaskier’s lust is getting in the way of hunts, and at first it’s just a practical thing, but geralt ends up loving how desperate jaskier gets and how much he works himself up, unable to get any relief without geralt’s intervention anymore. geralt watches him trying to rub his soft little cock through the cage, whining and begging for geralt to just let him out, and pretends that he's not getting off on this too, but he iiiis

(chastity anon continued) maybe geralt squeezes the cage until the metal creaks, and the cage is the only thing that stops geralt from crushing jaskier's cock with his witcher strength. maybe geralt milks jaskier's prostate with his fingers, acting all aloof while jaskier whines about not getting to come *properly*. maybe jaskier ruts his caged cock up against geralt at night, desperate for stimulation but unable to get any no matter how hard he tries. (is that too much? i'm a bit drunk lol)

you know what is too much babe? me, taking eight thousand years to fill an ask, especially a Magnificent, Amazing, Showstopping ask like this. awful. tragic.

everyone & their mother's done a cock cage prompt and u know what???? they should, it's a good bloody prompt

anyway fuck me sideways this took ages, im sorry x i'll try very hard to get more prompts out before uni starts. sub!geralt has really been haunting my dreams so possibly expect more of that? no promises, love yous x

incidentally finishing & posting this also mildly intoxicated. tumblr formatting is homophobic. here it is on ao3 cos i really need that x

***

Geralt's nose twitches.

The trail is fresh. Impossible to miss. He closes his eyes, focuses his senses.

All he can smell is the heady, overpowering scent of Jaskier's release lingering on the bard's hands.

"Jaskier," he says. Growls, maybe.

He doesn't turn to look at him, though he can hear Jaskier flinch. The spike in his heartbeat makes his blood pump faster, his scent more pungent, like a particularly cloying perfume. Geralt clenches his fists and his teeth and he's strung so tightly he fears his control might snap.

"What? What is it, witcher, I'm--I've been quiet, out of the way, what could it possibly be this time?"

Geralt can't answer. Won't answer. Focus. Focus. The frigid wind pushes his hair into his eyes and the creature's trail comes to him once more.

Sword drawn, Geralt moves forward into the night, irritated and glad to have something to sink his blade into.

***

"Ah, Geralt!" comes a distressed shout, and then Jaskier's half-running in his direction, tripping over his own feet. His doublet is undone, and so is the chemise. A mark sits high on the side of his neck, still wet from the mouth that left it there.

He grabs for Geralt's bicep, claws urgently at one pauldron before shoving himself between Geralt and the wall behind him.

"Nothing to worry about, dear witcher," Jaskier says breathlessly, ducking to peek from underneath Geralt's arm. "Just a--a misunderstanding, is all. Some parties in our arrangement failed to mention they were otherwise, ah--engaged."

"Jaskier," Geralt says as threateningly as he can manage. He's too fucking tired to deal with this again. And again. And again.

"She didn't fuck like a maiden," Jaskier mutters, and, mournfully, Geralt abandons the message board he'd been scouting, heading instead for the stables with the bard in tow and a group of young men yelling their displeasure in the town square.

***

"I don't see how this is--" Jaskier squeals, tries to shrug out of Geralt's grip. "--in any way necessary, Geralt, the silk will crease, gods have mercy."

Geralt pulls the hood lower over his eyes and walks swiftly, one gloved hand clasped tightly around Jaskier's arm, dragging him down the cobbled street. It's busy this time of day. Jaskier's incessant moaning draws them only more attention.

"Another word and I'll have your mouth sewn shut," Geralt hisses privately to spare them the unnecessary scandal.

Perhaps it is only because he finally realises the gravity of the situation that Jaskier falls silent. Geralt doesn't care for the reason. He quickens his pace.

The shop stands where it always had, inconspicuous and private, tucked away in the shadow of a large armourer. Dust rises from the stale clothes stacked on the shelves, tickles Geralt's sensitive nose; he doesn't spare a glance at the gaudy fabrics. A merchant greets them and Geralt nods at him knowingly, walking straight past him to a heavy door at the shop's back.

"Geralt?" Jaskier says tentatively, his voice quivering.

Geralt pushes the door open and shoves Jaskier inside.

The woman is a different one than the last time he'd visited, though it had been many decades since he'd had any need for services of this kind. Never this one in particular, still.

Jaskier stutters at his side, head whipping around wildly.

"Geralt? Geralt, you filthy old man, what--

He sighs in annoyance at the mischievous glint in Jaskier's eye.

"A gag, perhaps?" the woman asks, amused, and Geralt almost considers it.

"A cage," he says instead, grabbing Jaskier's shoulders and pushing him towards her.

Jaskier flails his arms like a drowning man.

"A--a what now? Geralt? If you think you can keep me in a gods-damned cage, you bastard--"

Perhaps the gag would be a wiser choice.

"Just some parts of you, sweetheart," the attendant says calmly, making to tug at Jaskier's trousers.

Geralt holds Jaskier's arms firmly behind his back as he's stripped from the waist down. He can't help but glance down over Jaskier's shoulder when the woman examines his limp cock.

"Such a sweet little thing," she comments with a smile and gives Geralt a nod before disappearing deeper into the shop. He watches the sway of her hips beneath her skirts.

"Geralt?" Jaskier whispers. His heartbeat drums dully in Geralt's ears, too fast, too loud. "Geralt, what are you doing to me?"

Jaskier's stopped thrashing, though the wheeze of his breath remains anxious in anticipation.

Geralt doesn't answer.

The woman returns quickly, a vial of a viscous, translucent oil in one hand and the steel cage in the other. Geralt marvels at how small it is, though he keeps his expression neutral.

"I'll--" Jaskier begins, though the words die in his throat when lithe, slick hands grab his cock abruptly.

"You'll want to watch, master witcher."

Geralt does.

It's a quick affair, now that Jaskier's given up his struggling. He stands still as a statue, head turned away and eyes squeezed shut. His hands shake when the woman threads his delicate balls through the metal ring, and he gasps when she gently tucks his cock into the cage.

"The fit is a bit snug," she says, lifting Jaskier's newly caged prick, turning it this way and that to get a better look. "Would you like something bigger?"

Geralt shakes his head. Jaskier doesn't try to reply.

The attendant hands him a small padlock with a key in it, and Geralt has to take his gloves off to fasten it on Jaskier's cage. The key goes around his neck, safe beneath his armour.

Geralt tugs Jaskier's trousers up, ties them roughly and perhaps too tightly. He can just make out the cage's shape under the fabric, an obscene bulge that's sure to get Jaskier longing stares.

He hands over most of his purse and urges Jaskier out, back into the world.

***

The bard is silent for three days.

They trudge the path in blissful peace that Geralt will yearn for when it breaks. When they make camp, Jaskier refuses to help. He sets up his bedroll as far as he can, shivering through the night, huffing indignantly. He won't eat until he thinks Geralt is asleep.

The atmosphere is so tense Geralt wonders why Jaskier won't simply leave, until he remembers the little silver key around his own neck.

They get to town, eventually, and Geralt sets out on a contract almost immediately. He doesn't hesitate to leave Jaskier at the inn, for once confident no trouble will befall him. The assurance is a surprising comfort.

On the fourth night Jaskier rouses Geralt from a fitful sleep, perched carefully at the edge of the bed.

"It's enough, isn't it?" he says softly, his expression shattered and pained. "I've learned my lesson. You can--please take it off."

Geralt blinks a few times. Takes a deep breath that chokes him with the urgent scent of desperation, unresolved lust. He thinks, and he thinks.

"No."

"Geralt--"

"No," he repeats calmly, closing his eyes again. "You wear the cage or I cut your useless cock off."

Jaskier gasps, and stutters, and goes quiet again, though not for long.

"If that's what it takes to stay with you then I--I will. I'll do it. But you--" A hand settles lightly on Geralt's abdomen. "You will take it off? Eventually. Right?"

Geralt hums dismissively. He revels in the neediness in Jaskier's voice, his uneven breathing as he settles back on the floor. It nearly rocks him back to sleep, until--

The whimper is a soft thing, barely audible, and yet it's enough to hurl Geralt viciously into wakefulness. He cracks an eye open, breath caught in his throat.

The darkness does little to hinder his sight; he gets a perfect view of where Jaskier's sprawled out on his bedroll, legs spread obscenely, hand desperately clutching his trapped prick. Geralt watches as he tries to get his fingers between the bars, tries to touch his swollen cock through the unforgiving metal. He whines again, louder this time as his head rolls from side to side.

"Jaskier," Geralt says abruptly. Jaskier jumps, though his hand doesn't fall away.

"Sorry," he breathes, voice thick like he might cry. "Sorry, I need it so badly, Geralt--"

And Geralt can smell it, is the thing--the salt of Jaskier's tears and the crushing, overbearing desire that now clings to him. He can't escape it, and maybe--maybe he doesn't want to.

He wouldn't ever admit it, but Geralt's cock grows unreasonably hard as he watches Jaskier frantically try to get off. He'd never thought about it, how good Jaskier would look, how good he'd sound--how achingly wanting he'd become after just a few days in chastity. It almost tempts Geralt to unlock the cage, so he can watch Jaskier's tiny prick bounce when Geralt spreads him out on the bed and fucks him within an inch of his life.

Almost.

"Go to sleep, bard."

***

The cage, Geralt comes to find, does not work as he'd hoped.

Yes, Jaskier's overeager cock can't get him in trouble anymore, and Geralt's glad for that, truly--fending off angry cuckolds never was his favourite pastime.

As far as distractions go, however--well.

The persistent, all-consuming scent of unfulfilled arousal so intense it nearly knocks Geralt to the ground is a slight problem.

He doesn't mind, really, when Jaskier looks so tempting biting his lip and rubbing his thighs together, so delicious pawing at his own prick and his swollen sack. When he begs and pleads and a whine slips into his normally sure voice, turning it thick and watery with tears.

Geralt refuses, refuses, refuses.

Jaskier does not ask to leave.

He gets drunk a lot, now. A cup of wine turns into three and then the whole carafe, and for once Geralt doesn't feel the need to keep a watchful eye and a hand on his sword. He leaves Jaskier to his will and heads to bed, calm and content.

Sleep doesn't seize him for long hours, so when Jaskier makes it back, stumbling noisily through the door, Geralt hums to let him know he's awake. He keeps his eyes shut.

It's a while before Jaskier climbs into bed beside him. The warmth of his bare skin pressed close against Geralt is a shock; the realisation that the cold, hard shape digging into his thigh is the metal of the cage trapping Jaskier's prick is--

Fuck.

His heart doesn't stutter when he feels the hot puffs of Jaskier's breath on his neck, but it might have, were he a weaker man. A hand creeps tentatively over his chest, limbs winding around him until Jaskier lies halfway on top of his supine body.

"Geralt," Jaskier breathes, sounding wrecked, and his hips move abruptly forward, clumsy thrusts against Geralt's side that make Geralt feel the curved steel even through his clothes. "Please, Geralt, please let me get off."

No, slips right to the tip of Geralt's tongue and stays there, unsaid and distant. The way Jaskier's words bleed together sets Geralt on edge. He doesn't dare move a muscle when Jaskier keeps rutting the cage against his body, keeps trying in vain to seek his pleasure. Dry lips settle on the edge of his jaw, grow wet with sloppy kisses. Geralt's own cock swells in his smallclothes, unrestrained.

"I'll do anything."

A hot rush of power hits Geralt head-on, nearly steals his breath away. The word echos in his head. Anything. Anything.

Jaskier moans faintly, right into Geralt's ear. The arm thrown across his chest moves lower, and for a moment he thinks Jaskier is going to touch his frightfully hard cock and it'll be over. He wouldn't have enough restraint to stop himself, then.

But Jaskier merely reaches to touch his own prick, like he did so many nights before; desperately trying to fit his long fingers between the bars, caress his plumped, reddened, tortured cock. Geralt releases the grip he'd had on the blankets underneath him, flexing his fingers against the ache in his knuckles. He wonders if--and he wants to--

His sudden movement doesn't startle Jaskier, to the bard's own credit or the wine flowing through him. He groans when Geralt bats his hands away from where he's fondling himself, leans forward and sucks a mindless mark to the side of Geralt's throat.

Geralt thinks of the way Jaskier's whimpers had sounded in the deep nights just as he grabs hold of the cage and squeezes.

The effect is immediate, though he doubts Jaskier gets any physical stimulation off it. Still, he chokes on a breath, and whines, and suddenly he's trembling wildly against Geralt's side.

Geralt tightens his hold just a little. They both hold their breath when the metal creaks pitifully beneath his fingers.

"Geralt," Jaskier says again, but this time his voice waivers with dread.

Geralt's whole body hums, sings, screams at him to grip just that much harder, fuck--perhaps enough to warp the cage, so it always digs into hot flesh and reminds Jaskier that it could have been his bare prick crushed in Geralt's fist instead, perhaps--

He lets go with a shuddering exhale, rolling swiftly on his side, back turned to where Jaskier's gulping down lungfuls of air.

"Tomorrow," Geralt says, all too loud in the darkness. "You can--I'll let you come."

"You'll take it off?"

"I'll let you come."

Geralt doesn't sleep, arousal hot in his core, skin prickling with anticipation.

***

"Fuck," Jaskier whispers heartily. His hands tremble where they rest, bound, at the small of his back. Should've got the gag, too. "Fuck, you bastard."

He's quite the sight, like this, knelt on the bed with his knees spread and his face shoved into the blankets. Open. Presenting. Captive and helpless and entirely at Geralt's mercy.

Geralt has yet to decide how merciful he's feeling.

He gets an eyeful of Jaskier's round arse sloping beautifully into the arched curve of his spine. Geralt aches to touch, yet he does not.

"You said--" Jaskier begins, muffled against the bedding.

"I know. Patience."

His own cock throbs, confined in his leathers, and Geralt reels at the thought that Jaskier's suffered through this for weeks.

He weighs his options. Reaches for the oil he keeps in case he needs to take Jaskier's cage off. Pulls his hand back before he manages to grab it, thinking. Thinking.

Jaskier wails when Geralt buries his face between his cheeks, tongue flat against his tight, untouched hole.

"Geralt, Geralt, Geralt--"

And Geralt never thought he would want this--never thought he could have this--but a flame of possession, of ownership flares bright and hot in his chest, and he knows he won't ever want anything else.

"That's filthy, you--"

Jaskier mewls and gasps, his thighs quivering until they give out, knees sliding impossibly more apart. Geralt fucks him with his tongue and goes near-delirious when Jaskier cries, big, heaving sobs shaking his body. He tastes decadent. He tastes of despair.

Jaskier's bound hands reach Geralt's head, long fingers weaving into his hair, pulling, holding. Geralt works his jaw greedily and Jaskier's body parts for him, unravels and blooms until even Geralt can't stand it any longer.

The outraged huff Jaskier gives when Geralt flips him heavily to sprawl on his back is vaguely amusing; nearly enough to cut through the thick cloud of desire settled over Geralt's mind, though not quite.

Oil spills over his fingers before he knows it, slicks Jaskier's feverish skin, makes it glimmer and glisten. His fingertips caress the steel cage almost reverently. He stares at it, at Jaskier's gorgeous prick flushed an angry red, swelling against the bars. He stares and it's as if a spell carves itself into his bones, heavy and binding and inevitable.

He pushes two fingers inside Jaskier just as he leans in to put his mouth around that cute little prick, cage and all. It clinks against his teeth. Geralt forces his tongue between rigid metal bars, desperate for a taste. Jaskier writhes beneath him, but his arms are still tied behind his back, immobilised between him and the bedding.

The cage is so small it doesn't even reach Geralt's throat and that's--

Fuck.

Geralt pumps his fingers blindly into Jaskier's tight hole, fits a third one in before he reasonably should. Jaskier moans delectably. His pleas grow in volume.

"Please let me come, pleaseletmecome, I'll be so, so good, I--I've been so good, Geralt, gods--"

Geralt presses his hips against the bed and guides his mouth higher, over Jaskier's trembling belly, over the ribs Geralt can now make out beneath his skin. He sucks a mark there, right over the bone. Moves higher. Thrusts his fingers faster, until he feels Jaskier jolt and his moans drip into a constant, maddening staccato. He puts his mouth around a nipple and finds it delightfully sensitive. He'll try, on another day, to get Jaskier to come just from having his tits fondled. Now, though--

Geralt wonders if he can fit a fourth finger without reaching for the oil.

He can.

A bite just below Jaskier's jaw. A hand closing tenderly around the cage. Squeezing. Crushing. Jaskier goes still, silent, breathless--he clenches tight-tight-tight around Geralt's fingers as the sharp scent of his release pierces the air.

"Good boy," Geralt says, watching Jaskier's soft cock spurt pitiful drops of come over his abdomen. Most of it catches on the cage. Geralt yearns to lap it up, but not before--

His own hand feels heavenly around his cock when he finally makes to undo his breeches. Geralt kneels between Jaskier's splayed legs; watches his hole spasm around nothing, the way his prick tries to twitch in its confines. It isn't long before his orgasm creeps up his spine, mind-numbing in its intensity.

Geralt spills over the cage.

Only then does he settle between his bard's thighs once more to lick him clean like a newborn cub.

#cw dubcon #cw chastity #cw bad person geralt?#dunno #honestly luvs #this is a fucking piss take

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slasherscream · 4 years

Note

Poly JD and Veronica Headcanons where you and JD share a braincell and Verona is like “,,,nO!”

A/N: this guy knows what i’m about

jd x reader x veronica ft. chaotic bastards and their tired wrangler

——————–

You’d always been a little wild. The boldest of Veronica’s friends. Bold enough that you hadn’t allowed yourself to get run out of her life just because Chandler was determined to make a pet project out of your best friend. Fuck the social structure of high-school and your place within it.

It was a small tug-of-war over her at all times but more often than not Veronica always gravitated back to you even as she played right hand to Heather (which never failed to enrage her). Then the most mythic bitch in school kicked the bucket-

You were in the cafeteria trying to decide if you wanted to gag because of the food or because of all this sudden pretending that Heather Chandler was a fallen angel.

The reason you haven’t been voicing your thoughts is because no one would want to hear them. At the moment not even Veronica would appreciate them. That you could tell, which was surprising. You’d been able to tell that the pressure of being first class high-school royalty had started getting to her in the last few months. She’d let some of your more scathing comments towards the Heathers begin to slide. She’d even started making some of her own. The thought of those good times brings a smile to your face.

Someone walks by your table, blowing like a trumpet into a tissue and whimpering Heather’s name. Your good will is short-lived.

“Oh get a life,” You scoff under your breath.

“So someone else does find this little display sickening.” You look to your left and there’s Veronica’s unexpected boy toy, Jason Dean. Before him you thought she was done with high-school guys. There are exceptions to every rule, you guess.

“Beyond sickening,” You’ve bottled up so many of your real feelings all day that you can’t stop your motor mouth from getting away from you, “The simple act of dying does not Mother Teresa make. This is a clown show the girl was a stone cold bitch.“

A moment of silence and then laughter. The genuine kind that makes your shoulders shake no matter how quiet you do it. Despite your bad mood the sound makes you smile.

“The name’s-”

“I know your name.” You interrupt and hold out your hand, “I’m Veronica’s best friend. Y/N.“

“Well then…. seems this meeting was overdue.” He shakes your hand but you two linger for a moment longer than necessary.

So that’s, that.

Veronica feels a small bit of dread when she’s walking to her locker and sees you and JD both leaning against it, not even noticing her yet, so focused on one another.

There’s no jealousy at how close you two are leaned into each others space though she thinks there should be.

Right before she can make up her mind on it you two notice her at the same time and both your faces light up. So there’s that as well

You and Veronica start to get close again in the days following the death of Heather. Although there was no real distance in the relationship before other than a Chandler sized wedge that often tried (but failed) to come between you two.

Now she’s gone and Veronica …. Veronica seems like she’s trying to lean on you. Like she wants to tell you something but can’t find the words. You had to pull her out the shower yesterday. She was fully clothed and just sitting on the floor of her tub. She might’ve been crying but with the shower spray you couldn’t tell and she’d pulled herself together quickly.

You don’t mean to talk about Veronica’s newfound emotional state with JD. But you were a little shaken up and when you walked into 7/11 to find him there you were talking before you could stop yourself. A reoccurring theme.

“I don’t want to sound …cold or something but I just don’t get why this is effecting her so much. She hated Heather, you know. Sure they were “friends” but Veronica hated her. But she’s like…actually depressed and shit.“ You say, shaking your head. “It’s just weird-” “Well she’s got us looking out for her. She’ll be fine.” JD throws an arm around your shoulder and without thinking you reach up to squeeze his hand. You’re too deep in thought to see how his face softens as he watches you.

You hear the rumor Kurt and Ram are spreading about Veronica and want to put your fist through a wall. Or through them.

You run into JD before you run into Veronica.

You were skipping a class, hiding out behind the school and trying to get control of your temper. A shadow falls over you and you look up ready to snap at a fellow classmate or play innocent to a teacher. It’s just JD and the anger on your face settles because you know he won’t judge you for it.

“What’s got you in a mood?” He asks and sounds like he actually gives a damn about the answer.

“Have you heard the shit Kurt and Ram are saying about Veronica? It’s fucking disgusting. They’re disgusting-” “What are they saying about Veronica?” He interrupts you before you can start in on a rant about how much you hate Tweedledum and Tweedledee. He looks much more alert and serious than he had a minute ago even as he slumps against the wall next to you, shoulders and sides pressed together.

You tell him. You tell him about the specific bullshit they’re pulling with Veronica right now. You tell him about the bullshit of the past they’ve put many a innocent through. You tell him everything that’s ever made you want to put those two six feet in the ground and lower.

“Little intense.” JD says at the end of it all even as he’s eyeing you with a renewed interest. His jaw is still set with anger the same way yours is. You think about how you’re both bound to get a headache or cramp soon.

“Maybe they deserve a little bit more than a little intense,” You snap and then regret it, “I’m sorry. Veronica’s been through enough this week and I’m kinda just ready to start swinging at this point. Swinging a knife."

"If you do start swinging a knife give me a call and I’ll help you get rid of the body, tiger.”

You both sound a little too serious about your casual banter and you both part ways….wondering, to say the least.

Veronica breaks that afternoon when you’re comforting her about the jock duo and trying your hardest to be sweet and understanding about how she must be (somehow) missing Heather Chandler.

Turns out you were right about Veronica acting weird. It’s not really grief so much as it is guilt coloring her actions because she and JD totally killed her.

You feel shock but not disgust. Veronica couldn’t do anything to disgust you except occasionally get the wrong snacks for movie night. You love her. She’s your best friend (and truthfully a lot more, but that’s not important) and you hold her close as she finally cries, pressing kisses to her head and cooing comfortingly all while you think carefully about JD.

You do the dumb, impulsive thing and tell him you know the very next time you see him. He yanks you into an empty classroom faster than you can blink.

You should probably be scared of being alone with him. But you just pull yourself from his bruising grip and sit down on the teacher’s desk impassively.

Eventually your calm makes him calm even though your silence itself should be unnerving. Or maybe you’re just two cats playing a waiting game with each other. Nothing but the tension before the pounce. Finally “First off I’m not gonna tell anyone because I’d never do anything to get Veronica in trouble. Second? Well … if there was ever someone at this school that needed to die-”

That’s how you find yourself involved in the plot to get back at Kurt and Ram. Instantly you know JD is lying when he says Ich Luge bullets because you do happen to be taking German this year. Also it just sounds like grade A bullshit. But even as you and JD exchange a knowing glance while Veronica isn’t looking you don’t call him out on it.

JD kills Ram and Veronica misses Kurt, thinking this is all far less serious than it is. You take the gun from her and give chase, herding him back towards JD where he shoots him and you’re both left staring at each other with a level of captivation that can’t be normal. Then you glance at Veronica.

There’s was a satisfaction to seeing the two get what they deserve until you see Veronica’s fast building panic. Which is great … because now you feel guilty.

You soothe her as best as you can while JD sets the scene of the crime to perfection and Veronica makes a hasty note.

The three of you rush back to the car where you hide and Veronica and JD make out to throw off the cop you know isn’t far behind.

Once he leaves you poke your head up from the backseat and are met with the sight of your best friend in a bra and her boyfriend shirtless. You try to look away respectfully but you know you gawked for a second, Veronica’s red face and JD’s smug smirk telling you that much. The embarrassment is blessedly short lived before Veronica begins to blow her top.

Another few days another funeral. You try to ignore all the feelings that have been welling up inside you. It doesn’t really work and so, despite wanting to be there for Veronica through another difficult time (caused by totally avoidable murder), you’ve been avoiding both her and JD.

Until JD comes crawling through your window. He doesn’t pull any punches when he asks you if you’re regretting what the three of you did but upon studying your stricken expression just from seeing him quickly changes the question.

"You feel it too?” and well…. isn’t that interesting. You don’t do anything else together but confirm your mutual feelings. After-all neither of you would ever do anything to hurt Veronica.

But JD seems certain that Veronica is just as in love with you as you are with her. Which is why he drags you out of your room and to Veronica’s house in the dead of the night just to force you both to confess to each other.

He doesn’t kiss you until after Veronica has and it feels like some sort of pact. You were in it before but now you’re his and Veronica’s and more importantly than both those things Veronica belongs to the two of you.

There are still a lot of people who you both want dead but you, being Veronica’s best friend, convince JD for the sake of your relationship’s longevity to not kill everyone who is a problem in Veronica’s life.

She’s very grateful for that.

So the rest of high-school goes by without a hitch. College, however -

#jason dean x reader x veronica sawyer #heathers imagine #jd x reader #veronica sawyer x reader #jason dean x reader #veronica sawyer imagine #jd imagine #heathers #heathers the musical #this got intricate but i couldn't do it halfway and also damn #veronica i'm SO sorry you have two nutcases after you #reader: veronica i'd kill for you-#veronica having learned a lesson from JD and brandishing a gun: not if i can help it-#stumacherstan #this has been sitting in my drafts for EONS jesus christ

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thotantics · 5 years

Text

⚤ pairing — reader + Park Chanyeol

✎ word count — 6,699

✦ genre — smut, pwp

✗ warnings — graphic description of sex, public teasing (lowkey), panty kink/smelling (is this even a kink? maybe it’s just My kink but im sure chanyeol would share it tbh), sex in a parking garage, fear of getting caught, switch!yeol, slight choking, gagging, oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected sex (always be safe pals), lots of talk ab body fluids

[requested] — If tumblr ate it, I was suggesting a reaction from Yeol from you discreetly stuffing your panties(that you just slipped out of) into his pocket during a break at the group’s dance practice, right before they get back to work lol everyone’s reactions would be fun if you’re in a mood for them all but Yeol is our baby so I’m most curious about him 💜💜💜🤤💜 @kimkaijong-in

[A/N] — this was supposed to be like under 1k words but clearly a bitch got carried away. im so sorry sdlfkkjdfk but i love this a lot, i think it came out rly great and im so proud i was able to keep coming back to this so easily :’)

_____________________________________________

Standing in the bathroom stall, cheeks flushed with heat, you couldn’t stop yourself from dipping a hand down the front of your panties. Watching your boyfriend rehearse always got you all hot and bothered - his big body was a sight, long limbs toned and his hair sticking to his forehead from sweat. He’d been so focused he hadn’t paid you much attention since you showed up early to pick him up. Naturally, practice was running late, but that was fine by you. You were enjoying the show. Clearly. Perhaps a bit too much.

The slick between your thighs was surprising when you pressed your fingers between your lower lips. You knew you were turned on but, god, was this just how worked up Chanyeol could get you? Entirely unbeknownst to him, too. It was impressive. You didn’t tease yourself too much, just enough that you could gather some of the flood from your heat and press your sticky fingers into your mouth. You smirk to yourself as you suck the taste of your arousal from your fingers, stepping out of your underwear and discreetly tucking them into the pocket of your hoodie.

If you timed it right, the guys would be taking a water break whenever you came back from the bathroom. Sure enough, the last few seconds of the song could be heard through the door as you reentered, and when it shut off and started to repeat again, you spotted Chanyeol in position, double over from exhaustion, hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Let’s take five,” Junmyeon calls, breathing heavy as he thumps Sehun briefly on the back. “Just a bit more and I think we’re done for the day.”

As the group started to disperse, members flopping heavily onto chairs or sprawling out across the floor or rushing over to get water, Chanyeol headed in your direction, one large, sweaty hand coming down on your shoulder as if he needed you to keep him upright.

“You ok?” You ask, smoothing a hand up his chest, his shirt damp with sweat.

“Grab me a water, will you, babe?”

“Sure.” He slumps down against the wall and you cross over the mini fridge, grabbing a chilled bottle of water and handing it back to him before you sit down against in the floor next to him. He drinks deeply, chugging the entire bottle in record time, chucking the empty container to the side carelessly, taking in a lung full of air before he glances over at you with a tired sort of smile.

“You wanna grab dinner somewhere later?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” You smile up at him innocently, tucking an arm into the crook of his elbow, your free hand rummaging discreetly in the pocket of your hoodie. You press your damp panties into the pocket of his shorts, snuggling up against his side so he doesn’t realize what you’re doing.

You know you’re successful when he tilts his head down to make eye contact with you, leaning in for a kiss. He’s only after a brief meeting of lips, but you tuck your free hand around to cup the back of his neck, keeping him close enough that you can dip your tongue into his mouth, giving him a taste of what you had in store for him.

Chanyeol pulls back after you swipe your tongue along his lips, leaving the taste of something familiar on the tip of his tongue. Something very familiar. He smacks his lips, tasting the remnants of your arousal that had lingered on your taste buds, brow furrowed ever so slightly as he gauges your impish expression.

His mind is reeling. For half a second he humors the idea that you had some elicit affair in the bathrooms, and blood rushes to his face but he knows that’s not the case. The way you arch a brow expectantly at him, biting playfully at your lip tells him this is something very deliberate on your part, something intended to torture him.

Maybe Chanyeol can be a little over dramatic at times but the very idea that you would slip away just to finger yourself and come back with the taste of your delicious cunt lingering on your lips just to tease him felt like torture instantly.

His face crumples into a silent plea, lips full and pouting, his eyes wide and imploring. “Jagiya?”

“Yes, Yeol?”

He glances around you, making sure nobody is within earshot, and he leans in, forehead bumping into your own, eyes squeezing shut, “Don’t do this to me..”

“I shouldn’t kiss you?” You giggle.

“Not with that dirty little mouth of yours.” He hisses, “Not now.”

“One more kiss and I’ll be on my best behavior until we get back home.” You promise.

He sighs as he tilts his head and leans in with his lips leading the way, crashing down softly against your mouth and pressing his tongue past your lips all too eagerly. It’s faint, but the taste and scent of your pussy juice is undeniable after that first kiss, and the fact that it’s faded so much has him groaning in desperation as he pulls back from your mouth. Already, he’s starved for it.

Sitting there next to you, Chanyeol tries as hard as he can not the think about your wet, tight little cunt, just inches away from his hand resting comfortably on top of your thigh. Luckily the break doesn’t last long, and he’s called away from you to rejoin the others. He’s visibly sulking as he leaves your side, and out of habit he crams his hands into his pockets, dragging his feet as he makes his way to his position in the group before the music starts up.

You can’t help but to smirk to yourself watching as his left hand fumbles for a moment with the present you had stuffed into his pocket. It’s with an innocent frown on his face that he turns around to face the front wall of mirrors, but he’s not looking at you. Instead, he’s looking down into his left pocket, and he’s starting to pull out what he’s discovered.

The lacy red fabric immediately sparks recognition on his face the moment he pulls just half an inch of it out into the light, and you almost laugh at loud at the comical look he gives you - panic mixed with disbelief as he crams your panties back into his pocket in a hurry as the music starts to play. He’s so distracted he’s off beat not even 20 seconds in and gets immediately called out by Baekhyun, who bumps into him. You sit off to the side trying to stifle your laughter, watching as he continues to fumble his way through the choreography.

Eventually, Junmyeon stops and takes him aside, and Chanyeol meets your eyes from across the room as Junmyeon talks to him. He’s seething at this point, pissed that you’d distract him to this extent and especially when he notices the demure smile you offer him from across the room.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah.” Chanyeol insists, hands shoved deep in his pockets, left hand fidgeting with the underwear you’d slipped to him, shoulders squared defensively, “I just need a second to head to the bathroom, my-my stomach’s just off and I’m- I can’t focus. Just…one sec.”

Without waiting for Junmyeon’s response, Chanyeol storms over in large strides where you’re sitting. For a second you think he’s going to yank you up by the arm and drag you off with him, but instead, he waits until he’s close enough, and you stand, and he tells you under his breath, “You’re going to pay for this.”

“I hope so.” You murmur in response, watching his back as he continues out the door.

Chanyeol’s breathing is ragged as he wretches open the nearest bathroom door. He tucks himself into a stall and hurries to pull the offending garment out of his pocket. As if it’s not bad enough that you managed to slip a pair of panties into his pocket, it just had to be these specific ones? Chanyeol had purchased the set for you last Valentine’s Day, a scandalous, skimpy, lacy thong with a matching bra, both see through and blood red. Any time you wore it drove him absolutely mad with desire.

He can feel the dampness in the cotton strip that would settle between your legs, and his mouth goes dry, mind reeling as he recalls the taste that had lingered on your tongue when you kissed him earlier. Chanyeol can’t shake feeling like a pervert as he does it, but he lifts the panties to his face and inhales your scent from them anyway, rubbing his nose against the damp cotton middle, groaning softly to himself as his cock throbs painfully hard against his zipper.

“Shit.”

It’s tough, but he gets his erection under control and manages to leave the bathroom without feeling too awkward. He notices as he reenters the practice room that you’re doing a very good job of playing it cool. You’re sitting in the same spot he left you, fiddling around on your phone while the others wait for him. In his left pocket, he’s got a death grip around your panties, his gaze fixed as he rejoins the group and they move back into their starting positions.

You lock eyes with him as he dances, and Chanyeol barely blinks, he’s watching you so intently. He manages to stay on beat and he doesn’t miss any moves out of sheer determination. The faster that he gets this choreography down, the faster he can be alone with you.

You can see it in his eyes, the urgency that’s building with every passing second, the desperation that consumes him to the point that his body is running on auto pilot. Luckily you had only thought to torment him like this right at the ass end of practice, and the moves he needed to work on were burned into the forefront of his memory. Plus, after the first mishap, running off to the bathroom to inhale the scent of your arousal still clinging to your panties, Chanyeol would have done just about anything to finish up practice so he could just take you home already and punish you for the torture you’d put him through for the last hour and a half.

It’s out of sheer will power and determination that he manages to muscle through the choreography for the last leg of practice. They have a lot more to do but Chanyeol doesn’t have it in him to focus any more on what needs to be done the moment he’s allowed to stop dancing. That’s tomorrow’s problem. Instead, he stalks over to you like you’re his prey, collecting his things and stuffing them into the opposite pocket that your panties are in, then he grabs you by the wrist and tugs you out the door, nodding wordlessly as a goodbye of sorts to the others as he goes.

Chanyeol has every intention of taking you straight home and fucking your brains out but the moment you press your breasts up against his arm as you walk hand in hand, lacing your fingers daintily through his own, much larger ones, he glances down at you only to see sweet, innocent eyes batting up at him adoringly and he throws that plan directly out the window. There’s no way in hell he’ll be able to make it another minute, let alone the short drive back to his place.

He doesn’t make it easy to follow after him, making huge strides with his long legs before he makes his way to the parking garage exit, shouldering it open and making a bee line for his Mercedes. He glances around over the tops of the surrounding vehicles, hand clammy as he holds your wrist, still, a bit too tightly in his haste to get you hurry along with him. When he’s sure you’re alone, he turns, stopping you mid-protest.

“Chanyeol, wait, I don’t wanna-”

His mouth crushes against your lips, your protest falling on deaf ears, breathing heavy into your mouth as he drops his duffel bag to the ground, uncaring, cupping your face with both hands and backing you up until you hit the rear door with a thud. Chanyeol presses his tongue into your mouth, prying open your lips by thumbing at one corner of them until you submit. He crams one leg between your thighs, effectively pinning you against the vehicle, tightly against him, and then his big hands move down the front of your body, brushing over your breasts through your clothes, pawing at you.

“There’s no way I’m gonna last another minute without having you. I just need to see how wet your tight, little pussy is.” He whispers, mouth trailing hot down your throat. “I just need a taste, baby.”

Before you can protest, he’s on his knees and shoving your jeans down your thighs. It doesn’t give him very easy access to the part of you he’s after, your thighs smushed together but you’re aching for him, soaking wet and he’s staring you down like he’s going to eat you alive right here out in the open.

Breathing heavy, you watch as he spreads you best he can with both thumbs despite pinning your thighs together with your jeans, parting your lower lips delicately with his thumbs, his lips pressing a tender kiss at the cleft of your pussy before he licks a fat stripe up your center.

“Fuck..”

He grunts, diving in deeper, licking you more fully this time. You watch, a hand flying up to clamp over your mouth to keep yourself quiet, as he licks, greedily swallowing the taste of you. His eyes, previously shut, fly open and meet your own, and he pulls back a breath away from your cunt to murmur huskily up at you, lips brushing your throbbing, slick skin as he speaks, “You fuckin’ taste so good, baby. I can’t wait to fuck this pretty pussy, split you wide open on my big cock.”

His tongue laves out against you again, slurping obscenely, so loud you know if anybody’s in the vicinity, they could hear. The sounds are echoing around the concrete walls, and he’s shameless in his venture, mouth open and tongue flicking slow and precise right against your most sensitive spot.

“Ch-Chanyeol,” You hiss in warning, voice trembling. “Take me home.”

“You little tease,” He pulls back again, lips and chin glistening, to stuff a finger up into your cunt roughly, the single digit so long and thick, your muscles clamping down around it. “You think I’m just gonna do whatever you say? You think you deserve that?”

You’re about to argue that someone, anyone, could catch you in the act but before you can open your mouth to speak, the unmistakable sound of voices growing closer cuts you off.

Chanyeol reacts faster than you, frozen in fear, eyes wide and pussy exposed. He stands and hurries to fumble in his pocket for his car keys, unlocking the Mercedes and manhandling you safely into the spacious back seat. He follows after you just as a group of three young men walk past his car, not paying him any attention as he shuts the door, and you’re so thankful his windows are so darkly tinted to keep you hidden in this moment.

As the three people walk right on past, heading to their destination, you stare wide eyed at your boyfriend, who’s breathing heavy and trying to keep himself in check. The change in lighting now that you’re in his car makes the slick on his lips shine at this angle, and you reach out affectionately to wipe his face off with your hand. He catches it, one massive hand wrapping around your wrist once more and he presses your first two fingers into his mouth, silently sucking while you watch, eyes lidded, heart thundering.

It’s debauched and far too risky, but Chanyeol doesn’t care, moving to lean over you, effectively forcing you onto your back in the backseat, his big hand forcing your fingers, slick with his spit, down the front of your panties.

Mouth falling open in a silent moan, you maintain eye contact as the sound of the people you heard finally fade away. Chanyeol drags a heavy finger down your slit from your sensitive nub, pressing two of your own fingers inside of yourself.

Chanyeol smirks at you, entirely amused as he encourages your movements with pumps of his fingers steadily drawing your own in and out of your wet cunt. He bites at his lip, chuckling darkly at the look on your face, then he murmurs to you in the silence, “I’m gonna fuck you, baby. Right here.”

You shake your head rapidly. He nods. You pout.

“Just take me home.”

“No. You did this, now be quiet and take it like a good girl.”

He presses a finger of his own inside of you along side the two of yours, effectively stretching you open and shutting you up. Nearby, someone’s car starts and Chanyeol leans in after you jump in surprise at the sound being so close by, mouth against your ear.

“You’ve been bad, baby. Consider this your punishment.”

You mean to tell him again to just take you home and fuck you, because you know this parking garage is about to get busy with the evening shift ending. More voices come from farther away and you squeeze your eyes shut tight. You’re doing your best to completely block them out, blushing furiously as Chanyeol easily tugs your jeans the rest of the way off and exposes your tits from over the top of your shirt.

Chanyeol runs a circle round one of your nipples with his tongue, mirroring the movement of his fingers circling your clit at the same time. He smirks up at you, grazing your nipple with his teeth.

“You’re the worst.” You groan down at him quietly.

“You deserve it.” He huffs in response, “Making me crazy like this.”

Pressing at your entrance, he teases you with shallow dips inside, flicking his two middle fingers back away from you, teasing you with the least amount of pressure he could manage while his teeth sink into a sensitive spot at the center of your cleavage.

Your hips buck up into his hand, seeking to draw his fingers into you deeper but he continues to tease, dipping in not even to the first knuckle and withdrawing while he sucks an angry red hickey into the center of your breasts. You gasp and moan, hips rolling under him, your hands flying up and gripping onto his hair, holding him close while you writhe under him.

“If you keep making noises like that someone’s gonna hear you.” Chanyeol mumbles against your skin, placing a tender kiss over his love bite before he drops down lower. It’s a cramped area but his backseat is large enough to accommodate even his long limbs as he shifts down half way into the floor, half way leaning over the seat he has you sprawled on, and he kisses the inside of your thigh.

Each hungry press of his lips on your skin draws him nearer and nearer to where you’re aching for him to be. His lips graze the fold of your leg, tongue coming out and licking up it in such a way that has your pussy throbbing. He hums, nuzzling closer, but the moment his lips touch your core, he pulls his head back, eyes blazing.

“Hey..” You protest weakly, watching in confusion and disappointment as he sits upright, his hands moving to the front of his baggy shorts. It’s a little bitter, the way you accept him right away, denying you oral sex. Maybe you did deserve it. A little. Besides, it’s not like you’re really going to protest if he wants to stick it in you really quickly. Your muscles clench just thinking about it, and god knows you’re already wet enough to take him in easily.

Chanyeol’s thick palm rubs over the tip of his dick, smearing precum down the shaft and lubricating himself with it, his eyes locked on yours, chest heaving. You grab onto your breasts, fingers toying desperately at your nipples, hips thrusting up to graze the head of his dick as he strokes it slowly.

He always makes you feel small when he mounts you like this - big body hunched over, one hand tucked down to guide his cock home towards your center. His shoulders shroud you in darkness, concealing your almost fully nude body in shadows, protecting you from anything that it’s the backseat of his Mercedes. You forget all about the parking garage, about any other people coming or leaving, you forget about everything except the way he’s dragging the blunt tip of his cock through your folds.

Rubbing your wetness top to bottom and back again, he slicks your puckering asshole and your swollen clit alike before he lines himself up at your cunt, letting his upper body fall over you some as he moves both hands on either side of your head. It’s with practiced precision that he enters your heat.

Chanyeol groans like a grizzly as he sheaths himself, and he doesn’t give you any time to adjust to being speared by him before he’s moving within you. It’s a deep push inward and a slow drag out with his hips, like he’s unable to stop the movement, his lips falling into the crook of your neck to fog up your skin with his breath as he gasps against you.

“Shit,” He hisses, “Feel so good, baby.”

He pushes himself up away from you, keeping most of his weight on his legs and lower back so he’s buried heavily and deep inside, and he lifts your outside leg, hooking your knee over the inside of his elbow.

“That ok?”

“Yeah.” You murmur, fingers dancing along the muscle in each of his thighs, taut and flexed as he begins to move again, this time quicker and harder. You’re so worked up, you feel the beginnings of an orgasm fluttering in your lower belly embarrassingly fast. Chanyeol grunts and his jaw flexes as he stares down at the way his thrusts make your tits bounce enticingly. His free hand reaches for one, gripping one nipple between two fingers as he massages the fullness of your breast.

He’s relentlessly driving you towards an orgasm, you feel it building and building and you’re about to burst, cunt pulsating around his pistoning cock until you’re unable to keep yourself quiet anymore. Moans fall from your lips uncaring who could hear, who could be walking right past his Mercedes.

“Hngh, Chanyeol, fuck! I’m gonna cum, I’m-”

He cuts you off, a hand smothering your desperate cries with his palm, covering half of your face with his big hand. “You gonna cum on my cock, baby?” He asks you quietly, voice dropping an octave as his eyes flash down at you. You nod, clinging to his forearm as you breathe desperately through your nostrils.

“Yeah?” He asks, slamming his hips harder, driving you euphorically towards your end. “You don’t fucking deserve to cum on my cock yet, baby.”

You don’t even register his words until after he’s withdrawing himself from you and stuffing his slick, throbbing cock back into his underwear and pulling his shorts back up around his waist. He’s breathing heavy and avoiding eye contact with you, glancing around the parking lot to make sure the coast is clear.

You’re left laying on your back, leg cocked up, foot resting against the headrest of the passenger seat, pussy leaking and mind spinning with ravenous thoughts of need and desperation.

He opens the door of the car and shocks you to your senses, and it’s as you bolt upright, trying to save your decency and hide your nether regions that you realize what it was he had said to you. Chanyeol walks around the back of the car, adjusting himself, wincing as he walks, and you follow him for a moment before your head whips around, paranoid, looking to see if anybody is near. There’s not a soul in sight besides the two of you right now, but you feel shame sinking into your stomach at the thought that there were very likely any number of people nearby when you were being loud just moments earlier.

Chanyeol hops into the passenger seat and buckles his seat beat, his eyes meeting yours in the rear view mirror. “Are you gonna ride back there? Buckle up.”

“What?” All the blood has rushed completely out of your head, your brain feels hung over and foggy and oh, so frustrated.

“Get up here, then, babe.” He chuckles at you, fishing his keys out of his pocket and starting the car. He turns the air on, blasting you in the face with coolness that seems to help wake you back up a little bit more. You shimmy into your jeans, trying to ignore how uncomfortably slippery you are between your legs as you climb over the middle console and into the passenger seat awkwardly.

Chanyeol waits, watching carefully until he sees that you’re safely fastened into the car before he throws it into drive and pulls out of his spot. You don’t speak for a while, staring out the windshield and ignoring the throbbing in your core, until he’s out of the garage and on the main road heading towards his place.

“You seriously did that to me?” It’s rhetoric question, you don’t need an answer to but Chanyeol speaks up, laughing in a mischievous, croaky sort of way.

“Yes, I did. Don’t you think you should earn the privilege of cumming on my cock?” He comes to a complete stop at a red light and turns to look at you, expecting an answer, but you scowl at him in silence instead. He smiles.

The light turns green and he pulls out onto the main road. It won’t be too long of a drive before he makes it to his place, but you’re angry and there’s only one thing on your mind, that just so happens to be laying thick and rigid in his lap.

He’s not at all expecting it when you unbuckle your seat belt, the little “ding! ding! ding!” alerting him to the fact that you were taking it off before he glanced over to see you shifting up to sit on your knees in the passenger seat.

“What are you doing??” He’s instantly argumentive about it, frowning in your direction every couple of seconds, trying to focus on the road. “Put your belt back on!”

You don’t listen, hands shoving down the front of his shorts just enough that his cock springs free, and even in the midst of him chanting, “Aish! No, nonono, stop! Jagiya~ don’t, it’s not safe, heyhey no don-”

His protests stop the moment he feels the velvety warmth of your mouth around his cock. He lets out a choked groan, thankful for the upcoming red light that he’ll be able to stop the car for a few seconds. You feel the deceleration and take the opportunity to position yourself so you’re more comfortable, leaning over the middle console is painful on your tits no matter how you lay, so you opt to lean across one of your arms to cushion yourself, mouth drooling over his dick as you reposition.

Chanyeol stares down at the back of your head, leaning down further in his seat in an attempt to see your mouth around him but before he can get a good view, the car behind him honks, and he glances up in a panic to see that the light had turned green. He pressed a little too heavy on the gas and floored it on accident, causing you to lurch down farther on his cock, gagging as his length crammed farther down your throat than you were prepared to take him.

He moans loud, throbbing and leaking precum that drags across your bottom lip as you pull off of him entirely to take in a ragged breath. You glance up at him, murmuring in a patronizing tone, “Be careful, Yeol.”

“You fuckin’ be careful!” He snaps, hand shaking as he moves it from the steering wheel to signal a right turn.

You know that means he’s nearly home, so you grin, ducking back down and attempting to swallow him whole on purpose this time. He reaches the back of your throat and you begin to gag, but you relax your muscles, opening up to slide him farther back until your nose is against his pubes. Your eyes are watering and Chanyeol’s hips buck just the smallest bit.

You’re going at it hands free, bobbing up and down in his lap, trying to avoid bumping your head on the steering wheel, but Chanyeol graciously shifts his seat back a few extra inches to ensure your safety at least in whatever way he can manage. Once he’s off of the highway and driving on smaller roads he’s more comfortable in, he threads one hand in your hair and drives easily with the other. His grip starts off tender but it’s as you get him nearer to busting down your throat that his touch is forceful and almost mean.

“Fuck, you’re such a slut.” He groans, making another right turn into his usual parking spot outside of his apartment. Once he’s safe in another parking garage, shrouded by almost complete darkness save for the street lights flooding in from outside, he leans his chair back even more, his grip on your hair punishing as he drags you off his cock and to his mouth, kissing you wet and sloppily before he shoves you back down on his dick, gagging you on purpose.

You’re fully prepared to let him cum down your throat, sucking him in earnest and for some reason, now that he’s not where he works anymore, perhaps? You feel less exposed now that he’s so close to home. You’re noisy as you go at it, slurping and sucking, moaning around the shaft of his dick, leaning farther over the middle console and reaching one hand out to press forward into the front of his shorts and massage his heavy balls. He needs to cum, you can tell by the weight of them. He needs to empty himself bad and it’s all you care about, to drain him until he’s sated.

It takes a lot of self restraint, but you pull away from him and wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, locking eyes with him, “Do I deserve it yet?”

His eyes flash like he’s gonna get pissed for half a second but you smile and he softens immediately, shoulders slumping, cock throbbing in his lap, still exposed. “Let’s go find out.” He chuckles, stuffing himself back in his pants and hurrying out of the car.

Once again, you find yourself being dragged along behind him. He’s like a kid almost, the rush of excitement coursing through him so intensely that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. You find yourselves giggling and playing along the way, teasing him with tickling hands across his torso as he tries to key in the code to get in the apartment, bumping into walls as you round the corner and head for the stairwell that leads to his apartment. He keeps shushing you, but in doing so he’s louder than your laughter, so you clamp a hand over his mouth, laughing breathlessly into the front of his shirt, leaning heavily against him while he fumbles to slip the key into the lock and open his front door.

You duck under his arm and dart inside in a flash, hands moving to the bottom hem of your shirt and lifting it over your head in a quick motion. Chanyeol barely has time to lock the door behind him before he’s turning eagerly to watch you strip. You’re bent over, shimmying out of your jeans, when he dramatically staggers back into the door with a thump.

He hits his knees and scoots over to you on them, eyes big and pleading as he looks up at you, hands reaching to grasp your hips, smoothing them around to grip your ass.

“Oh, baby..” He groans quietly, burying his face into the softness of your stomach. “Finally.” He nuzzles a few kisses against your skin, sweet in contrast to the way he gagged on you on his cock moments ago, or the way he cruelly denied your orgasm.

Smiling, you thread your fingers through his hair affectionately as he kisses his way down to your pussy, moaning in between each kiss before he kisses right at the cleft of your sex. You tug lightly on his hair, making his eyes look up at you, tongue coming out to stroke flat against your clit.

“I think it’s time you stop playing around, babe.” You tell him, biting at your lower lip while his tongue spreads you open, mouth sucking and swallowing the taste of your flooded opening.

He nods his head against you, but otherwise doesn’t respond verbally except to moan when you tug on his hair harder. You pull him back away from you, ducking down, capturing his glistening lips in a searing kiss. Regardless of how tortured he felt by your little games today, you had felt just as tormented, just as needy and desperate for him as he had become for you. The tension building in your lower stomach thrumming, throbbing in your core and you were over playing games and teasing at this point.

After a brief, messy kiss, you tuck one hand around his throat, feeling his adam’s apple bob as he swallows, eyes wide as he stares up at you. “Fuck me, Yeol. Now.” To emphasize the final word, you squeezed, just enough to have his mouth falling open in a silent gasp, just hard enough to take his breath away for half a second before you let him go.

“Yes, baby.” Chanyeol’s voice is breathy as he scrambles to stand, following after you like a lost puppy as you turn on your heel and head to the bedroom. He catches up easily with his long legs, arms wrapping around your middle, holding your back to his chest, pressing his erection into your lower back with a groan before you turn in his embrace.

You both make quick work of getting him out of his clothes; he lifts his shirt while you shove his shorts and boxers down all in one sweeping motion, and when you straighten back up, he lifts you, tucking you around his waist as he crawls onto the mattress with you under him, kissing at his neck.

He manages to roll his hips and angle you under him just right so that he can slip inside of your cunt easily, hands free. You both groan in tandem as he bottoms out.

Your body responds to his instantly, clenching around his cock as if you were afraid of losing this feeling before you reached your peak. Chanyeol’s hips press forward, dragging out to the tip before diving back in and then snapping against you, sticking you hard each time with his rigid, throbbing member.

He’s quicker than usual in this position, slumped over you, back hunched, face buried in your neck. Usually he fucks deep and slow but the desperation has built in him and he’s rocketing into you with as much speed and force as he can generate, grunting and panting and fogging up your skin.

You hold your breath, focusing on the way he feels and the way he sounds, losing yourself in the feel of his body weight crushing down on top of you slightly, constricting your lungs from filling up all the way, aching in your ribs and aching deep, deep in your womb.

He pulls back before it gets to be too much, as if he senses your discomfort long before it comes to you, hands caressing your face, lips pressing against your eye lids before he tells you in a low tone, “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.” You gasp.

Chanyeol pulls back enough to look down at your eyes, never ceasing his movements as he asks, “Can you ride me?”

You’re more than happy to, albeit unwilling to let him slip out, so you tuck your legs around his waist, locking his feet at the top of his ass and he flips you over and sits up, keeping himself in you until you adjust your legs on either side of him, then he scoots, dragging you on top of him up the mattress until his head is rested on the pillow, stacking both of them up so he’s propped up into a more reclined position.

The moment you start to grind on his cock, hands planted on his chest, Chanyeol gets loud. He loves watching you fuck him, but after a night like this one it feels particularly desperate, the way he moans and ruts up against you. You relish in the sounds he’s making, fingers threading in his hair, drawing his mouth to your breast. His lips kiss gently at a puckered nipple before his tongue lolls out, licking a tight circle around the bud before he latches onto it and sucks.

You keep fucking him, the walls of your pussy clenching him tight while you grind down hard, giving friction to your swollen, needy clit. Alternating between grinding and bouncing on his cock, you focus on his mouth, watching the wet licks of his tongue on your nipple, the way his lips pucker and look all the more pink and delicate as he sucks your breast. It’s overwhelming, and sends you hurtling, once more, straight for a much needed orgasm.

“Aish!” He cries out, squeezing his eyes shut, hips bucking up to meet your thrusts but he’d wild, sloppy, so very desperate that he throws you off rhythm. “Fuck, fuck, just like that..” He gasps, words spilling out over your tit, bruised by his insistent kissing, licking, sucking, one hand gripping your opposite breast while the other squeezes your ass, keeping you tight against him.

“Make me fucking cum,” You gasp, “Fuck, please…please..” Your eyes squeeze shut, focusing on the wet slap and squelch that fills the room, the way your boyfriend is desperate panting, wheezing each breath that comes out in hot puffs against your tits, tongue still stroking, lips still sucking. It’s a desperately animalistic meeting of skin, quivering and clenching and throbbing, sloppily coming together in rough, pulsating waves until the tension finally snaps.

You cum first, blood rushing through your ears, pounding in your veins as your pussy rhythmically squeezes and releases in hot gushes over Chanyeol’s cock. You roll your hips, jerky and simpering, your whole body responding to the orgasm, head throw back and toes curling.

The feel of you cumming on his cock sends him over the edge, mouth still on your breast and half way sobbing, “I love you so fucking much..”

It’s a euphoric laugh that sings out of you, your eyes opening to watch as he cums noisily, head falling back on the pillow, planting his feet and jerking up into you to fill you up to the hilt with his cum.

“I love you, too, baby.” You coo down to him, rocking your hips nice and slow to ride out both of your highs together, a hand stroking soothingly down his chest. “Did that feel good? Hm?” He nods wordlessly at you, eyes squeezed shut, “You came so much.” You giggle.

“Did I fill your pussy up?” He asks, voice hoarse as his eyes open, bleary and tired, to see you nod your head, looking down at the mess of sex fluids leaking between where you’re still connected. He smiles wearily, eyes fluttering shut again, “Good. You definitely, definitely deserved it.”

#chanyeol smut #park chanyeol smut #exo smut #mine #kimkaijong-in #woohoo babey i did it! i completed something!! something that im happy with!!

2K notes · View notes

ddaenggtan · 5 years

Text

Backalley Brawl | myg | M

This is....just as unedited as 666 medici lmao, but! Here, have this! It takes place in the same universe as the 666 medici drive fic, so this is the same MC, just...with a different friend lol. I'm lowkey hype because the more people you meet in this verse, the more I get to play with them, and they're some of my favorite characters I've ever come up with.

Also shoutout to @strawbxxymilk bc its her birthday!!! I was going to write a jungoo fic for it, bUT NO im not gonna, i decided to be benevolent and let the renkook agenda stay on hold for a single day :)))

Word Count | 3.5k, I think?

Warnings | This is pure pwp, I'm not kidding, absolute filth. Semi-public sex, deepthroating, facefucking, gagging, yoongi’s kind of a dom??, unprotected sex (ur not a vampire or a werewolf, wrap your johnsons), rough sex i think, breeding kink, f masturbation (kind of?), cumplay, mention of knots, yoongi got a phat ****, degradation, i think thats it?? Idk tbh my brains p fried from finishing this

The smell of wet dog has been following you all night; from when you got up and went to Joon’s shop to tease him a little while ordering an arrangement, to the store to order food for your pet, the club to handle some business and find a satisfying meal, and even now as you wander the sidestreets and backalleys in an attempt to either lose your apparent shadow or draw them out. You aren’t scared or even apprehensive - you’re just annoyed, because the scent lingers in your throat and there’s very little that’s worse than the smell of werewolf.

You stop in a darkened alley, one hand on your hip as the other fishes your phone out of your dress pocket. There’s not a single soul nearby from what you can tell. Everyone that isn’t sequestered in their homes and beds is packed into the clubs and bars a few blocks away. The scent gets as closer than it’s dared to all night, probably only arm’s length away from you; the hints of woodsmoke and sap tell you everything you need to know.

[You, sent: ] Is there a reason you’re hiding in the shadows, pup, or are you just going to be creepy all night?

Behind you, a text tone dings through the air followed by a muffled curse. You hear a sigh, and then footsteps.

“Oh good, so you aren’t going to be creepy all night,” You tell him without turning around.

“You could’ve just texted me hours ago if you knew I was following you.” His voice is muffled slightly, but there’s no mistaking the pout in it.

“And you could’ve just called like I told you to instead of being weird, but alas, we both chose different paths in life.” When you turn, your struck not for the first time at how soft the werewolf in front of you looks.

He’s one of the smallest werewolves you know. They all tend to be rather large and imposing, but not him. No, he carries his power in the way he stands, relaxed and lazy no matter what’s in front of him because he knows it’s not a threat. The power he holds in the long fingers is but a millisecond away, and everything about him screams that he is all too aware of it.

The thought makes your stomach flip and heat sink low between your thighs.

His nostrils flare ever so slightly, and you have no doubts he can smell your train of thought. He adjusts ever so slightly, flipping the black wavy hair out of his eyes and adjusting the red plaid flannel he’s got tossed on over a nondescript black shirt. He’s more fidgety than usual today, and your eyes narrow.

“Why didn’t you just call, Yoongi?” You ask as you take a single step closer to him. His muscles tense ever so slightly.

“You remember what happened last time,” He mutters. “Didn’t want a repeat.”

That’s fair , you think. It still doesn’t explain why he decided to stalk you through the night when he could easily have just approached you in one of the several secluded places you’d been.

“I-” He cuts himself off before he can get more than a word out, and when he brings a hand up to fiddle with the choker around his neck, you notice that he’s shaking slightly. You take another step toward him, and he mirrors you by taking a step back. You look closer.

His black shirt is slightly damp at the neck, and the sleeves of his flannel are in tatters from where he’s picked at them with his claws. There’s not much light in the alley where you stand, but with your enhanced vision you can see the way his pupils are shrinking and dilating rapidly. The barest hint of a fang worries at his lower lip.

You’ve never seen him so out of control of his shift before, and it almost worries you. Not only because, against all odds, you care just a bit for this werewolf, but also because out of control werewolves are dangerous even to vampires. You’re confident in your abilities, but you know better than to think you can take down a fully trained, mature, crazed werewolf like Yoongi on your own.

“Should I call someone for you?” You ask. You manage to keep your usual bored tone in your voice, but if he could pay attention, the tight grip on your phone would give you away in heartbeat.

“Yes, I mean, no, it’s not-” He huffs. “No, that’s why I came to you. I didn’t get to Joon in time, y’know, it hit early, and now I’m, uh, I don’t have the-” He huffs again, running long fingers down his temple.

“I’m in rut,” He eventually spits out. Heat floods you at the words; you’ve been with werewolves in rut before, you know what it’s like for them. The need to claim and breed, to ensure their line continues, constantly at war with the want most ‘wolves have to not hurt anyone around them. It’s why Namjoon created his signature potion, a concoction to stave off the need so long as it was taken before all of the symptoms set in.

Yoongi has been precise about taking it ever since you met him, content to live his life without a mate until he met someone he loved enough to want children with. You’ve never seen him this out of his mind, and yet the fact that he can stand here and have a conversation with you while his instincts scream at him to do anything else is only another testament to his control.

It only makes you wetter, and you can tell by the way he groans and his nostrils flare once again that he knows the effect.

“So you thought you’d come to me?” You ask as you slip your phone back into your pocket. Yoongi’s gaze hardens slightly, the muscles in jaw working as he bites back whatever retort he had in mind. “Or, rather, you thought you’d come for me?”

Yoongi steps away again as you step forward, and you cock a brow at him.

“I’m not going to force you to do anything, okay, Meds?” You stifle a laugh at the shortened form of your nickname; Medici was kind of a mouthful for the younger generations. It’s sweet that he’s so thoughtful, though. “I just...some of the others have mentioned that you’re good for this, what with all the…” His hand waves through the air, gesturing at all of you for a moment before he makes fangs with his fingers.

“What with our uncooperative biology and my love of roughness,” You finish for him.

“Yeah,” He responded lamely. “Yeah, that. I just don’t want you to think that you have to do this. Because you don’t. I just don’t know if I’m going to be able to stop if you say yes without you making me.”

His thoughtfulness brings a fresh wave of arousal, paired with the realization that he believes you could control him even in rut. You step forward again and he maintains his distance until his back hits the wall of the alley. You don’t stop, though, getting close enough that you feel his breath mix with yours when his lips part ever so slightly.

He stifles a soft moan, no doubt able to taste your arousal on the air with how enhanced his senses must be at this point. You run a finger down his sweat-soaked chest; the hitch in his breath only cements your decision.

“Who said I would want you to stop?”

Yoongi groans, low and deep in his throat, and you smile at the sound.

"Only if you're sure," He mutters. You don't dignify his words with a response. Instead, you slide a hand under his flannel and along the edge of his black shirt, teasing at the hem with your fingers. They ghost along the thin strip of skin you can see, and his eyes flutter closed.

"I'm sure, pup," You whisper. The growl he gives in response isn't something you hear; it's just felt. In the tips of your fingers as they hook under his joggers, in the flip of your stomach, and in the way you can feel the damp cloth of your underwear sticking to you.

"I am not," He growls, one hand moving to tangle in your hair and push you to your knees. "A pup." Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you tug lightly on his waistband, and you stifle a moan when you realize he's not wearing anything underneath. The hand in your hair tightens and pulls you closer to the hard length hidden behind the soft material of his joggers.

"Fuck, Yoongi," You whisper, already mouthing along the outline of his cock.

"Get to work." His words ring in your ears as you pull firmly down and reveal his shaft in all its glory. You've had longer - Taehyung and Namjoon are both exceptionally gifted there - but you doubt anyone could match the girth Yoongi sports.

You wrap a hand around him and slide slowly upwards, committing the relieved sigh he releases to memory. There's a wide gap between your thumb and the rest of your fingers, further proof that he has the girth to make up for any lack of length, and you give it a soft kitten lick.

Yoongi cuts his groan off before it can even start, but his hips buck into you. You grin and look up at him before licking a stripe all the way to his head. His jaw tenses and the hand not tangled in your hair grips the wall behind him hard enough that some of the brick crumbles.

He sucks in a harried breath when you wrap your lips around him; your jaw already aches from the stretch, but you can’t find it in yourself to care because when you look up at him again, his fangs are digging into his bottom lip and his eyes are clenched shut. You tease him for just long enough that he looks down at you, a demand written in the way his lip curls upwards. With no further warning, you slide down him, taking his entire length into your mouth.

He chokes on a moan and stuffs the side of his hand between his teeth in an attempt to stay quiet. His hips are moving the barest amount against you, and you can’t help but be impressed that he’s still so in control.

You want to see him lose it.

You lick your way off of his cock before sliding back down, letting the flat of your tongue run along the vein as you do. You repeat the motion, letting the very tip of his cock hit your throat before you hum around him and bring one hand up to grip his balls. His hand tugs lightly on your hair and you resist for a single second before you let him pull you off.

“Fuck, if you keep doing that-”

“You’ll cum?” False sweetness coats your voice, and it makes his expression twist in a snarl. “And here I thought you’d last longer than the others.”

“You want me stuff that mouth of yours so full you can’t talk? Because I will,” He tells you. You cock a brow and grin.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Yoongi.”

You’re turned before you know it, back against the brick wall while Yoongi’s free hand moves to stroke lightly along your jaw. It’s everything you can do not to nuzzle into the calloused pads of his fingers and you’re glad you resist when his grip hardens and he pulls your jaw down.

You let him slide his cock between your lips, precum smearing along your lips as he does. He’s heavy on your tongue. It’s intoxicating.

“Your mouth is so good like this, baby,” He says as he begins to thrust in and out of your mouth. “So wet and perfect, you know that? Can’t talk back with your mouth stuffed full of cock, can you?” You hum around him and his thrusts start coming faster and deeper. He’s just long enough that tip of his cock hits the back of your throat each time.

You can taste him on your tongue and his pre-cum drips down your throat with every thrust. One hand stays buried in your hair, keeping your head in place against the wall as he fucks your face, and the other moves to support his weight. A quick glance tells you his eyes are focused on where his cock disappears between your lips, mouth hanging open just barely as he pants and groans.

“God, you take it so well,” He pants. “Like it was just made for me.” You clench around nothing at his words; it’s not the first time you’ve heard them, by far, but fuck if you don’t love it every single time. A smile plays out over his lips, highlighting the sharp canines that you love. You can feel a growl building in his throat and you can’t resist the temptation to make him verbalize it.

You tighten your lips around his shaft and hollow your cheeks at the same time that you swallow around him. His rhythm stutters and he pulls out of your mouth in a rush, free hand darting down to wrap around the base.

“You’re such a little bitch,” He hisses. His vice grip on his dick doesn’t lessen even as he pulls you up to your feet and spins you around. His hand disappears from your hair, both of them running up your thighs to push your dress up so he can squeeze the meat of your ass. He slaps it once before a tearing sound fills the air and your underwear falls to the ground. "Gonna teach you to have some respect, baby."

His cock slides into you easily and you can't stop the moan that tears from your throat. The stretch burns in the most delicious way; there's little resistance as he pulls out, and the way he sinks back into your heat has your nails scraping against the brick wall.

"Fuck, Yoongi," You whimper. He chuckles at that and snaps his hips into you again and again. Your moans echo off the alley walls, and only seem to spur him on. He's completely unforgiving, ramming into you quicker and harder with each passing second.

"Yeah, that's it," He mutters, fingers digging to your hips. "Fucking take this cock, baby, you're so good for me, yeah? Sucked my cock so good I almost came, and now your sweet little pussy's gonna milk me dry. You want that?"

You whimper, rolling your hips back to meet his bruising pace. He doesn't hold back and you have no doubts that were you a regular human, you'd be bruised beyond belief at the way he fucks you.

You aren't a normal human, though, and you're thriving with how hard he fucks you into the wall.

You clench around him and draw the first real moan you've heard from him. He runs a hand up the curve of your back, making you shiver slightly, and a particularly hard thrust has your walls fluttering around him.

"Can't fucking wait," He moans. "Gonna flood you full of my cum, coat you with it. Everyone you see is gonna smell it on you, they're all gonna know just how good you've been fucked."

"Yes," You moan, "Yoongi, please, do it, please."

He grips your thighs tight and spins you around, barely pulling out for a second before he's picking you up. Your ankles cross behind him as your back hits the wall and he slams into you once more.

"Fuck yes, baby," He moans, leaning forward to mouth at your neck. "Gonna breed you so good, fill you so full of my cubs, like a good little bitch." He doesn't miss the way you moan and his teeth dig sharply into your skin. "You like that, don't you? You want everyone to know how good you are, how you take me like a bitch in heat. Fuck, you're so wet, you know that? Wet and hot and fucking perfect for me, the best fuck of my life."

"Yes, Yoongi, please, I'm good, I want it," You pant.

"Say it," He demands. "Tell me what you want from me."

"I want you to cum," You moan, clenching around him again. You've been with enough werewolves in rut to know what he wants to hear, and you're so cock-drunk that you don't even have the fochs to tease him about it. "I want you to breed me, fill me with your cubs, wanna be yours."

Yoongi curses and his thrusts shorten until he's just grinding his hips against yours. The pressure against your g-spot is just enough that you're starting to tip over the edge, but you hold it back. You want to cum after him.

"Shit, you're such a perfect little bitch for me," Yoongi groans. "So perfect and sweet, can't wait to see you dripping in my cum."

You chance a glance at him and nearly cum on the spot at the sight of red ringing his irises. You're instantly reminded of the power behind his grip, the way he could tear you apart right now if he really wanted to, if he wasn't distracted by the feeling of your warmth surrounding him.

Your hands dig into his hair and pull him into a hard kiss. Your mouth hits his in a clash of teeth and tongue, both of you too fucked out to care as he grinds and swells inside of you. Your hands move down, pushing at him until he slides out. The sudden emptiness makes you ache but you're on a mission. You also don't want to be stuck against a wall in an alley for however long it takes his knot to deflate.

"What-" Yoongi whimpers, doing his best to claw you back to him. You grin and drop to your knees again, sliding him into your mouth once more. It's more of a stretch now that his knot is swelling but it's worth it for the way he slides himself to the very back of your throat before pulling out.

"I want to taste you," You tell him as you wrap your hand around him and start to slowly stroke. "I want to watch you cum down my throat and watch me swallow it all." His breathing turns ragged and there's a high-pitched whine in the air that you aren't sure he knows he's making. You look up at him, wide eyed and pouty. "Please?"

Yoongi curses briefly before he thrusts his cock into your mouth again. You can feel the pressure building and you set to work, bouncing your head on his shaft and letting your tongue flick into the seam and lap up pre-cum before swirling back down around him to the base. His arms are braced on the wall behind you and he doesn't move at all.

His knot swells even bigger and catches briefly on your teeth, and the noise he makes sends you over the edge. You slide your fingers down to rub circles into your clit, hips rolling into the touch. Yoongi must smell it, or maybe he looks up and sees it, you aren't sure - your nose is buried in the patch of hair between his thighs as you gag around him - but he moans. It's loud and vibrates through his body and into yours, and it makes your orgasm wash over you in a wave of white. Yoongi chokes on another moan and he nearly explodes in your mouth.

It seems never ending; his cum shoots down your throat, and it just keeps coming as he thrusts shallowly into your mouth. It collects on your tongue, and with his next thrust, you can feel it drip down your lips and chin to land neatly on your chest. You're glad he wasn't deep enough to get truly stuck in your mouth - though that could've been fun.

Eventually, Yoongi settles. His chest heaves with the force of his orgasm, and his eyes haven't changed from the deep red.

"You...fuck," He whimpers as he tucks himself back into joggers. He winces a little at the friction against his still decreasing knot and helps you to your feet, straightening your dress as best he can. "C'mon."

You raise an eyebrow and look down at where he's laced his fingers with yours. The red in his eyes brightens ever so slightly as he tugs you forward, free hand wrapping around your waist to hold you close to him.

"Just where are we going?" You ask quietly, nose brushing lightly against his.

"My place," He responds easily. "Gonna eat you out until you cum as much as I did, and then I'm gonna fuck you as hard as you know I can."

The appeal of his secluded cabin must be clear on your face, because he's whisking you out onto the street and towards his home before you can even respond. A quick glance shows no sign the two of you were even there, save for your ruined panties on the ground and deep gouges in the brick.

#yoongi smut #suga smut #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #werewolf yoongi #vampire reader #reader insert #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #ddaenggtan

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sooibian · 4 years

Text

Elude (1)

Moodboard | Prologue

Main Characters: Kyungsoo x Reader (ft. Baekhyun)

Genre: Dystopian AU

Warnings: Mentions of death, murder, illness and suicide

Tags: @squishysoo-12

Word count ~ 1400

A/N: Kinda unedited, sorry! Please let me know your thoughts.

***

You gradually opened your eyes to a rectangular room. It was just adequate enough to accommodate a small table besides the single bed you lay on. On the table stood a battery powered fan and a carefully placed wooden cup of ginseng tea. There were three open shelves affixed to the opposite wall for all your belongings. On the adjacent wall, a pathetic excuse for a window fitted with thick iron bars. Your servant's quarter was devoid of any plug points, ceiling fan, iron nails, sharp edges - for obvious reasons. You had only gone from one prison to another. At least you had the room all to yourself.

You took another glance at the wooden cup. There was a note underneath it.

That was quite an entrance -B

You felt a faint throbbing in the back of your head. Flashes of events from earlier came rushing to you.

Realization hit you like a truck. You froze.

You were in treacherous waters. This house belonged to the man you hated and feared the most. The sheer proximity to him filled you with a sense of dread. No one must find out. But then again no one would find out. Your father succeeded in keeping your identity a secret. As far as the world was concerned, his daughter died in the same car crash that took his wife. You were merely the daughter of two ordinary fisherpeople. The kind the world didn't care about. And to your credit, you had mastered the art of obscurity.

You read the note again.

Byun Baekhyun!

Byun!

Commander Byun was the President's right hand man - second in charge. He had played a major role in thwarting the Rebellion by having several spies on his payroll, eventually causing the Rebels to lose faith in each other. He was the man who had saved the President's life during the Rebels assassination attempt. Not by the showcase of his bravado, but by deceit.

Commander Byun had lost his wife in an illness at the time of the Rebellion. The event didn't weaken him in the slightest. It turned him into a bigger monster instead. Baekhyun must be his son. You wondered how he dealt with it all. The loss, the fear, the chaos.

You were swimming among sharks. And nobody was to be trusted. Your father had taught you to be smart. You would quietly accept any punishment they gave you for fainting, lie low and go on about your job as any other servant would.

You glanced at the teacup again. Unable to remember the last time you had ginseng tea. Although it had gone cold, you relished every sip of it. As if it was your last.

***

The news of your fainting episode had spread like wildfire. It had earned you a nickname in the kitchen - Princess. Your poor partner was stuck with 'Sloth' since the past two years.

"Set these plates on the dining table, will you Princess? Be careful about it", the head-chef ordered.

The volley of taunts and jibes had just begun.

The mahogany dining table, although elegant, seemed a little ostentatious. But then again, what about this place wasn't a gross display of wealth.

You set the three plates in order as instructed. One for the President at the head of the table. One for his wife and the other for their son.

Like any other family, there were stories about this one, too. Apparently, in her younger days, the First Lady was betrothed to a high ranking officer in the Army. The officer died under mysterious circumstances within a week of his engagement. The President had married her almost immediately after, in a hush hush affair. Speculations galore over her decision to marry a man almost twice her age. Some called her a gold digger. Still do. While many called it a moment of insanity.

Their son mostly flew under the radar. His name is Doh Kyungsoo. He is in his mid-twenties. And he’s being trained to be his father’s successor. He has a regimented daily routine. There are hardly any photographs of him in the public domain. Except the ones from the National Day parades. In the pictures, he's always sat next to his father. Dressed in the same black generals uniform, minus the maroon stars, his expressions unreadable. That was all there was to know about him.

You heard footsteps approach from behind, heading towards the kitchen, as you sat straightening the table covers and mats. You didn't bother to turn around. Dinnertime wasn't for another hour at least. It must be your partner making useless trips from the kitchen. Probably trying to get rid of her nickname by overcompensating. The thought filled you with rage. Half of the population was left to starve in detention centres and here you were, along with a small army of people, fussing over a dinner for three.

"Good evening, Imo! Mmm....smells delicious as always"

You heard a gentle but masculine voice coming from the kitchen. The kitchen staff was all women and none of the soldiers or guards were allowed to visit.

"Kyungsooya!", you overheard the head chef squeak, "where were you all this week? Promise you won't disappear on me like that again! I've been so worried! Imo has been cooking all of your favourite dishes! Oh my God, son....you look so frail! You haven't been eating well, have you? You have to fill up on all that I've cooked today, okay?"

Kyungsoo merely chuckled affectionately over the head chefs fretting.

Her sugary sweet tone towards a dictator's son made you want to gag.

You realized that you'd already started off on the wrong foot. And now you'd broken another unspoken rule by not greeting him when he walked past you. You rushed inside the kitchen just so that you could make amends.....it was your turn to overcompensate.

You hurried to the kitchen, stole a quick glance at Kyungsoo, not meeting his eyes and bowed down almost in reverence. To your utter surprise, he bowed back!

He seemed nothing like the man you've been seeing in the newspapers or the State controlled news channels all these years. His otherwise shrewd and stoic expressions looked much softer sans the uniform and the glaring spotlight of manufactured story-tellers. The thick round glasses gracing his face made him seem like the friendliest person to ever exist.

If this was an act, he was pulling it off with immense conviction.

You pretended to do something around the kitchen, picked up a few rag cloths and walked out. And all the while you felt Kyungsoo's eyes lingering on you.

***

The head-chef had a small garden for everyday herbs she used in the kitchen. Every morning you were supposed to water the plants and make sure they didn't die before you did.

"Morning, Princess!"

You recognized the owner of this voice and groaned internally.

You stood up only to bow down to him, "Good morning, Soldier Byun"

"It's Baekhyun for you", he said with a cheeky grin.

A small smile was all you could manage in response.

"You should come see my garden sometime", he said excitedly.

"You keep a garden?", a quizzical smile spread across your face. You just wanted to get this conversation over with. But didn't want to seem disinterested.

"Yes, but it might be a bit too.....bit too refined for your taste. Anyway, I have a question for you. Do you know what's the most important thing big mansions like these have?"

"A good staff to run the place smoothly", you said almost immediately regretting it.

He chuckled, "Correct, but the answer I was looking for is trapdoors"

Your face fell. Whatever his plan, you didn't want to partake in it.

"And there's one right underneath your bed", he thrust a small locked black box in your dirty hands.

He was now dangerously close to you, his voice down to a whisper "A little something from my garden, and I want you to hide this there"

"What...what happened to the girl who worked here before.... before me", you blurted out.

"I killed her", his nonchalant reply disturbed you. Also made you wonder whether this was some kind of a distasteful joke.

"But you have nothing to worry about, Princess. As long as you do exactly as I say"

A look of pure dread clouded your face.

He let out a small laugh and smirked, "Don't worry about it too much. Just follow my lead"

#exosnet #exo series #kyungsoo series #baekhyun series #kyungsoo fanfic #baekhyun fanfic #exo fluff #exo angst #kyungsoo fluff #kyungsoo angst #exo dystopia #baekhyun angst

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