#he could go on and on if mark hadn't stop
Note
touch starved reader with an oral fixation x kidnapper!Simon who’s all punishment and no physical affection? Please Simon just a little kiss? with tongues? :( (i just wanna make out with this man while my heart aches for him)
by Allah, you people are dogs. i will write the filth as usual.
DEAD DOVE, 18+ | dubcon. kidnapping. mean!Simon. dom!Simon. masking corporal punishment as affection. kissing. size kink, size difference. some thigh riding. degradation + humiliation (verbal). non-con pet play. marking (heavyyyyyy mentions of Simon biting you like a chew toy). choking. daddy kink (but in the awful, demeaning way). manipulation. forced affection. coersion. forced/manufactured dependency. brief mention of Simon stepping on your back to hold you down so he can whip you w a cat o nine tails. yanno. the usual Friday night.
idk. there's something so hot about you, completely naked, riding Simon's clothed thigh as he holds you up by your neck. tongue out, desperate for a kiss while he just mocks you the whole time.
It's survival.
At first.
A means of masking the innate horror of being stripped of your agency, your autonomy, by a man you barely even know. One you met once before (fate sealed), and now—outside of your apartment complex where he was idling by the foothold, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against the brick wall, head turned. Gaze narrowed as you approached.
Waiting for someone, you assumed, thinking nothing else about the matter.
Nothing else, except—
He looked familiar. You think you saw him before. He was staring at you. Hadn't stopped. Hasn't said a word, either. The silence was oppressive. Heavy. Your hands fumbled with the keys. Shaking. Trembling.
He's pretty, you thought, suddenly. In the way car wrecks can sometimes be. Jarring and awful and hideous, but—
Mesmerising.
Macabre. And that's what he is. Everything from the mask on his face (skulls, go figure), to the absurdity in his size, his width. The way space itself seemed to move around him, bending and distorting just to let him pass. His own gravitational pull. Magnetic. You feel it tugging on you as he pulls another lungful of smoke. Another. Another.
(like an hourglass, a timebomb, almost. you wonder what will happen when it runs out—)
He gives you the creeps. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. A visceral sense of unease curdling in the pit of your belly as he keeps staring, staring. Eyes—crystalline under the broken headlamp, washout into crushed topaz—drilling into your back, sharp enough to flay skin. Everything inside of you says to run, but your key won't fit inside the lock. Won't—
Ever.
And hindsight has always been a bitter thing, hasn't it? Cruel in her mockery. Had you known, then, that he wasn't a workman loitering by the complex, waiting for a friend; or a low-level drug dealer casting webs into the plum hewn aether, it might have saved you. Might have.
Maybe. Because he was there, waiting for you, all along.
Life has a funny way of paying back good deeds. All it took for your life to crumble down around you, rubble falling off of a shaking mountain, was kindness. Was seeing a large man in the pouring rain, already drenched. Black clothing sticking to the granite contours of his body, and offering sanctum in the shape of a rusting umbrella you found at a thrift store for three dollars.
(“here,” you said, chipper. All smiles. “i live just down the street, and you look like you need it more than i do. do you want it?”
and he—
he simply stared. stared. his eyes liquid, molten, as they carelessly dropped, roaming down the length of your body at his own leisure. leering. assessing. it was odd. weird, but—
he huffed, then. seemingly satisfied by whatever you measured up to in his head. his neck lulled back, and he gazed at you from down the crooked length of his nose, tucked neatly away under the thick band of a facial mask. skulls. how could you be so stupid?
slowly, like he was trying not to startle a mare, his gloved hand reached out, curling thick fingers around the hilt of it. he tugged once. in your stupor, you forgot to let go. embarrassment flooded in. he huffed again, quietly amused, as you untangled your numbed fingers from the umbrella.
in your distraction, he moved closer. smelled of ash, of mildew. sweat and stale cigarettes. there was something predatory in the way he slipped through space. a preternatural quiet. an eerie stillness.
you hadn't realised he was there, looming, until he rasped out, “more ‘n you could ever realise, pet.”
and you're sure why you do it. did it. but your hand slips into your shopping bag, eyes widen. heart thundering in your chest.
“are you hungry? i, uh, i just bought some apples, um—”
his eyes are lavascapes. shackles. chains. “i could eat.”)
And now—
Forced to play this strange cat and mouse of his where he treats you like soot on the bottom of his shoe, and you pretend that it's affection. Love. How godless.
Protection, he calls it.
("mine," he whispers, orison soft, into your ear. "ain't go' nowhere else to go, do you, pet? world's big. would eat a small thing like you up. safer here. wit' me. only me.")
You wonder what he'd do if you told him the biggest danger here was the madness nestled inside your head, the one that sometimes made you look at him like he was your salvation instead of the warden holding the end of your leash in a firm hand. Unyielding—like everything he does. Is.
Withholding, too. Everything must be earned. Nothing given. Nothing handed out. And you know that this is a ploy, a tactic. Subterfuge meant to chisel into your sense of self, dehumanise you. Turn you into a simpering, obedient little doll for him to play with as he wishes. You know this, and yet—
It's survival, you promise yourself as he tugs on the hook latched to your collar, testing it for weakness. Survival, when his hands—bare, bare; warmed skin against skin, you could just weep—brush over your throat, nails skimming goosebumped flesh as he wedges one, then two inside, hirsute knuckles tickling your pulse. It tightens the collar to near choking. Intentional, you know. He likes it when you beg—for air, for food, water, him.
Vile man. Awful.
(You want to roll on your belly at his feet.)
This cold, cruel touch lights a fire under your skin. It's been months since he's last done so. Always wearing gloves when he has to. Using paddles, belts, when you misbehave. Never his bare hand. Not anymore.
(“m’hand is for good girls,” he slurred, words merging, meshing together, painted with exertion. He wedged his boot against the small of your back, holding you down, and cracked the end of a cat over your bare ass, thighs. Unbothered by your howls, your screams, as the whip bit into your skin. You've never so much as been hit as a child for misbehaving, and now, as an adult, you have a madman standing over you, introducing you to something called a cat o’nine tails—a favourite in the army, lovie. “bad girls,” his boot pressed down harder, heel digging into your spine. “Bad girls get the whip—”)
Bad. Bad. Because you tried to run, to leave him. He dressed you up, called you Mrs Riley, and you—
Ducked out the back door when he turned away for a second.
Stupid. It was poor timing. A test. He set you up, measuring your loyalty to him, your commitment, and you failed. Failed.
(“this is what ‘appens when spoiled little cunts get their way too much. they act out, don't they? bitin’ the ‘and that feeds. you'll learn soon enough, though—”)
Ghost—sir, sir (master, maker, god; you'll call him anything he wants if he touches you again)—pulls his fingers away, depriving you of his touch once more. And it's all so stupid. So fundamentally wrong, deplorable, but you follow. Needy. Whining for it in the back of your throat.
It's been months. Months without touch. Without sensation outside of leather lashing across your thighs, your ass; harsh, gloved fingers digging into your jaw, braced against the back of your head, as you swallow down his cock in an effort to prove to him you've been good. So good. Can be good. His good girl.
You need to touch him. Need his touch. Ache for it, for something outside of this nook he placed you inside of, denied the privilege of living upstairs with him after you tried to escape.
You want to. Badly. Your fingers twitch. Ghost sees it. Hums.
“Need somethin', pet?”
Your mouth is dry. You swallow. It burns. It hurts. “Yes—”
“Yes, what?”
“Sir—”
Behind the mask he's yet to take off for you fully, only ever hitching it under his chin to devour your cunt whenever you've been good, his jaw tightens, the fabric bunching up.
You reel back from the look of sheer displeasure etching harsh lines into the hollow gaps of his eyes. Heart thundering. Stomach churning.
“Mas—” he cuts you off with a soft sigh. Marked with his irritation. “D—dad—”
Dad. A new one. Daddy. He didn't seem like the sort to be into this type of play, not with his sardonic, deadpan eyes. His mockery. His dessicated humour, awful and biting. You'd have sooner expected him to laugh at you—in that slow, deep hum he gives; a little chuff, full of condescension and jeer—than to get off on it. On you, kneeling between his legs with your chin braced against his palm, mouth open, tongue out, as he fucks into the tight clench of his fist, groaning as you beg daddy to give you a taste.
It's gross. Disgusting.
It's not done for anything else other than to humiliate you. To crush you under the heel of his boot—little bug—so that you will always know where your place is in this scenario. His little wife. Mother, mum—
He pulls on the leash, jerking you forward. Purrs, “good girl,” and then steps back, moving away from you. Cruel. Dismissive. You hate him, hate him—
(Need him so deeply. With every fibre of your being—)
You watch him as he goes, mourning the loss of his presence already, as he paces around your space, your cage. Broad shoulders barely fitting inside. Head ducking to avoid hitting his crown on the popcorn ceiling. It's strange seeing him here like this. Prowling. He usually comes when he wants you, when he needs to enact more merciless punishment on you for whatever perceived evils you committed (not greeting him with a kiss when he walked in, not letting him suffocate himself in your cunt when he had you sit on his face, not making him cum all over your face quick enough when you knew he had other engagements to get to—), or when he ruts, heavily, between your thighs, cold and detached. Seeking pleasure from your icy flesh, and giving nothing in return but white hot agony.
Him here, idling in your presence, is revolutionary.
“S–sir—?”
He hums, quiet. Sits in the chair as you gather the fragments of yourself littered on the ground. His mood is malleable, it seems.
You push, fingertips sinking into the putty of his agreeable temperament. “Can I—”
You waver when his sharp eyes raze over your bare body—clothes are for good girls, after all—pupils sloshing over the edges, bleeding into midnight blue.
Your body is a battlefield. Every inch of skin branded with his mark—pretty, thrawn rings of teeth tattooed in silver, haloed in black and red, desecrate your flesh: neck, collarbones, breasts, belly, thighs (a particular favourite of his), ass, mons; all bitten through, chewed up. It weeps when you move, has blood trickling down your skin. The cracking scabs make him coo, poor thing, all bloody fer me? and he licks at them, sucks, until only a pinkish wound in the mimesis of canines remains.
Uprooted, turned into something new—
His chest expands when he settles his gaze on the sliver of space between your spread thighs. Concealed in tenebrous, hidden from his leering, lecherous view. He cocks his head, considers something unknown to you. His thoughts, his mind, worlds away. Untouchable.
(only to bad girls, he’d snarled out when you asked why—)
“Testin’ my patience still?” He doesn't rip his gaze away from your cunt, speaks to it sometimes more than he speaks to you. “Thought this alone time might’a cleared your ‘ead.”
You flush. Embarrassment roiling through you. His displeasure is a palpable thing. Heavy. You hate the weight of it.
“I need—I need you.”
Another toneless hum. “‘Course you do. Ain't got anyone else.”
He's awful. Hideous. You want to rip his tongue out of his mouth. “I—I want you. Please.”
Ghost doesn't answer. You stopped expecting him to a long time ago, his moods odd measures of ebbs and flows; passive and mild, cracking terrible, awful jokes as he strokes your back, hands riveted to your skin, and then biting and caustic the next. Pushing and pushing until you lash out, snap, so he has a reason to push you down, punished and smothered under his bulk, as he ruts into you like a beast, a man starved. Tells you it's for your own good. That you need him. Would be lost without him.
Bludgeoning a hole into you wide enough for him to crawl inside of. Poisoning you from the inside out with the same nocuous rot that flows in his veins.
Maybe that's been his agenda all along. Maybe. To make you want him as badly as he wanted you. Desperate, obsessive. Going so far as to follow you home, lost little mutt waiting in the shadows outside of your door until you threw him another bone. And when that didn't work, when the food stopped being enough—
He took you. Held you captive in his house deep in the wilderness. A place so endlessly green that you sometimes stare out at it—unfathomable sea of phalthos and jasper—and feel dizzy. You'll get lost out there—
just like he says.
As he turns your obsecration over in his head, you wait, supplicant to this man as you rest on your knees. Pretty pet with a golden collar adorned in gems.
Fitting, you find. With his head cradled against his thick knuckles, you can't help but shiver at the way he looks shrouded in the gloaming embers of a fading twilight. Leonine. A king perfectly at ease in this thick, caliginous atmosphere.
His eyes burn, magmatic, in the low light. Vats of endless ink. Black holes that will swallow you whole if you get too close. But he's poised. Contemplative. Assessing.
And then grips the end of the leash tight in his other hand. Tugs.
You obey the wordless command, crawling on your hands and knees to where he's spread out on the recliner. Laxed, dripping with a careless indifference as you wander to him, resting your chin on the spread of his knee.
Looking up, up, at him, waiting. Wanting.
There's so much of him—a fact that has been the catalyst to your downfall the moment you saw him standing under the awning; this massive creature. Thighs wider than the width of your body. Burly forearms. Broad shoulders. He's big. Indomitable. Thick, endlessly so. But there's a give to his body. Valleys of softness hiding corded muscle. Firm, but—
Your fingers sink into the soft give of his belly when you reach out, bracing against stomach. Pulling yourself further into the bracket of his spread thighs, inching closer to him.
He meets your reverent stare, eyes liquid along his lower lash line.
“Thought you were gonna keep me waitin’ all night,” he muses, giving another pull on the leash. It destabilises you. Your nose bumps into his sternum, and you moan at the sting.
There's a dissonance in the back of your head. A hairline fracture in the line that keeps a degree of separation between pleasure and pain. They meet against the crack in the divide, merging into a abysmal polyphony conducted by his hand.
He watches, amused, as you whimper, sniffing harshly against the burn. It's not bleeding, and not broken—small mercies, you suppose—and you let it simmer into a dull ache as you slowly clamber into his lap.
Ghost leans back as you settle, greedily taking in the sight of your thighs stretched wide over his leg, cunt pressed, tight, against the rough scrape of his jeans. The touch burns. He hasn't touched your pussy in weeks—
“C’mon,” he urges, hand spanning the width of your lower back. Coaxing. “Show me ‘ow good you can be.”
It's all the permission you need. Slowly, slowly, your hips start to gyrate, dragging your slit over the coarse material. The friction is agony. You need more—
He draws his other hand up, curls it around your neck, forcing your head back, back. You gasp, staring at him, dizzy, from down the slope of your nose. The clasp of the collar digs into your skin. It hurts. It's too much.
you don't want him to stop.
His hand is huge. It spans the entire length of your neck, thumb to your pulse, pinky grazing the hollow of your throat. It forces you to lift your chin higher just to let him fit.
He likes it, too, you know. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of his bare hand, scarred and thick; dusted with a cropping of fine hairs along his scabbed knuckles, sitting against the whole of your throat. Swallowing you up. Can feel how much he enjoys the sheer depth between your sizes when his cock twitches, stiffening more
The look on his face is appraising, anatomising. There's a cold measure of distance in his gaze. A barren polynya. You want to cross it. Chart these untamed lands until they're deeply ingrained within your being. Cimmerian effigy burning to keep you warm.
It's survival, you think, and arch into the palm of his hand.
He holds you like a doll. One hand on your lower back, pressing your cunt to thigh. The other tightening around your throat. Bare skin against bare skin, and oh, you could just cry—
But this is not what you need. What you want. And he knows. He always does. Knows the inside of you like it's written down—inked on paper. Thumbs through the makeup of you, chapter by chapter, until no mystery remains.
“Tell me what you need, pet. Beg for it.”
“Let me—” his hands tighten, choking the air from your throat. Crushing your collar against your neck. “Lemme—kiss you, please, please—”
Tighter. Tighter. The world around you swims under a thin ocean. Phosphenes swim, untethered, in your periphery, ghosting along the curve of his shoulders. He might kill you yet. Keeping going, going, until those brittle, bird-like bones in your neck snap—
You'd let him, you think, muscles falling lax. Submissive. Just the way he says he likes even though you know he fucks you harder, touches you more, more, when you act out. Misbehave.
“Kiss me?” He taunts, words abrasive. Strident. Scrubbing hard against your skin. “Ain't that jus’ the sweetest thing I ever ‘eard.”
You burn, blister. “Please—”
“Reckon I ought to. Kissed your pretty cunt ‘fore I even kissed your lips, huh, pet?”
Your chest folds over itself. Stomach knotting. Balling tight. Unease is a razor blade scraping your nerves.
“Simon—”
“Ah, ah—” his hand tightens. Vicious. Chiding. “You ‘aven’t earned the privilege of sayin’ my name, ‘ave you? Cheeky thing. Might ‘ave to take a cane to you next.”
“No, no, no—! I'm—”
“Sorry?” He mocks, cocking his head. Condescension drips from the corners of his eyes.
“Please, sir—”
“Dad is gettin’ tired of this attitude of yours, pet—” his fingers dig into your skin, hard. Biting. A warning, you know. The blunt press of a blade to your jugular. But it thrums along the suture line to your desire, a wellspool of murk coiling low in your guts. You throb, cunt clenching down around nothing. Achingly empty. “Thought we got rid of it this time ‘round. Learned our lesson.”
The words are frank, prosaic. Had you any sense of self still malingering in the back of your head, you might have struck him for the blatant disrespect. But as you struggle to reach for it, pawing around in the vacuous abyss for any fragment of who you were before this, before him, you know—without any doubt—that none exists. Nothing. He’s too ingrained in your marrow, hewn into your skin. Copper sutures holding his filament within you. Cradled between your thighs, nestled in the rotting vacancy of your heart.
He knows you. Every part—
“We did—we did, da—daddy, please—”
It’s shallow. Muffled, like he’s trying to swallow it down, but you feel it rumble through his broad chest. A guttural sound. A groan. Drenched in pleasure, in want. So thick, you could almost taste it.
He hides his need under a layer of derision.
“Such a needy thing, ain't you? Desperate little slag like you wouldn't last out there, would you?”
His hand digs into your hip, pushing you off of his thigh. Eyes skewering into the wet stain on his trousers. A huff spills out—the sound a near perfect mimicry of crushing charcoal in your hand.
“No. You'd be eaten alive. Torn to pieces. World's too big for somethin' like you.”
Mindless, dazed, you nod. Arching into him. The leather leash snaps against your chest. “Yes, yes—”
His cock presses into your thigh, hard, fat. Your mouth waters. Drool dribbles down your chin.
He smells of tinder when he leans in close, blood drenched words biting into your skin. “messy today, aren't you? Be lost without me. Tha’s why you wear a collar, isn't it?”
Pitifully, you nod. Eyes full of tears. Each word is a bludgeon into your resolve. Into your sense of self.
But it earns you his affection, and his thumb presses into the corner of your mouth, unhinging your jaw until it falls open, lax. He holds you like that, mouth lax with his hand still around your neck. The other lifts away from your lips, goes to the thick band around the bridge of his nose, slips inside.
There's no buildup to it. No lingering sense of anticipation. Practical, detached, he merely tugs it down, and lets it snap under his chin.
Your breath is punched out of your lungs at the sight of him. Barefaced. Scarred. His nose is crooked; a jagged hook with scar tissue delineating the spots where it's been broken too many times. His lips are—
Full.
Mangled.
Scars run in thick slashes over them, denting the flesh in places. Burn marks line his pale flesh. Charcoal rubs into his eyes, highlighting the whites of his lashes against smeared soot.
He's—
Pretty.
Like a car crash. Calamity. The broken remains of a town after a hurricane, a tornado, ripped it apart. Ugly, brutal. His face looks like it's been mauled by a bear, a tiger. Scarred and hideous, and—
You shiver. His eyes drop, landing on your own lips. The soot on his brow flutters down, lands on his eyelashes when he lifts his brow up mockingly. Derision curdling an awful smirk on the corner of his mouth. Crooked. Like him. Like his teeth. His nose. His boxy jaw. His lips—
You kiss him.
Can't help yourself, really. There's a pull. Gravitational. Magnetic. You need, need, to taste him. To quench this ache in your jaw that makes you want to wrap your tongue around something, play with it between your teeth. Soft and sweet—
Ghost's lips are plump beneath yours. The thick scar tissue is almost velveteen when it glides over your bottom lip. You moan into it, into the feeling; victory—however pyrrhic—swims like mercury in your veins. Finally.
And he doesn't kiss you back. Doesn't make any effort to reciprocate at all, but he's not tense beneath you. Not stunned. Or reluctant. He’s pliant. Malleable. Agreeable, willing to let you devour his mouth, his taste, as much as you want. Doting. Letting you spoil yourself on him. With him.
Because you need him, don't you?
Like the air you breathe. The food he gives you—apples, always, on rainy days; salmon and rice in a pretty bowl with your name etched into the porcelain—and the attention, the affection—
(suck my cock, pretty girl. don't make me put a gag on you—deeper, you can take it, can't you? take my fat cock all the way up inside your sweet little cunt—my pretty girl—)
—it’s all so divine.
His hands on your body, your throat, spasm. Once. Just once. Against your leg, his cock twitches. Leaks prespend into the demin. You rut against his thigh, aching for it. Whimpering—
And then he's groaning into the kiss, snarling out your name until it wedges between your lungs, syphoned in from his scorching breath. Another brand in the shape of him.
Ghost kisses the same way he eats—messy, sloppy; all teeth and tongue, and full pretty lips. Clumsy, like no one taught him how to properly hold his silverware and he's trying to mock what he saw on television. Brumish. A broken, contemptuous pastiche of sumptuosity. A starving dog, snarling around its plundered morsel. Protective. Possessive.
It coils around you. Thick, smothering.
He sucks your tongue into his mouth, catching it between his teeth. The sting brings tears to the corner of your eyes, and when you pry them open, you find him already staring at you (always, always, always—), lidded. Heavy pools of desire shaded in the brume of a winter dawn. A bonfire flickering in the distance of a whiteout. Sanctuary from the cold—
He seems to catch himself. Expression flickering. Warbling around the edges. It closes off in a blink. He pulls back. Locks into the ashlar veneer of this indifference he wears like a suit of armour.
But you saw it. It was there. Within reach—
“Need me, don't you?” He drawls, timber a needlepoint between cruelty and desire. Sultry, low. Husky. He knows what it does to you. How he can unravel you at the seams with just his voice alone. “Need me so fuckin’ much, pet. Would be lost without me—”
“Please, Simon,” you whisper, feather-soft. Cunt throbbing, pulsing. Needy. “Please—”
The strident reprimand for using his name doesn't come. His hand tightens around your throat, unconscious. A paroxysm that has pleasure carving itself down your spine, electric.
“Come get it, then,” he rasps, voice wrecked. Raw. Curling at the edges, thickening his accent until the words elide.
Hand to your throat, he drags you close. Closer still. Keeps you sat pretty on his lap as he pulls you in for a bruising, hungry kiss. Tongue shoving between your teeth when you gasp.
His kisses are always hungry, but this is different. Greedy. He devours you whole. Eats you alive. His hand falls to your lower back, holding you tight to his chest.
You moan into it, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Squeezing until your knuckles blanche, joints twinging in discomfort.
After months of nothing, this alone is bliss. His taste soaking onto your tongue, drenching it in the bitter tang of sage, wheatgrass, and stale cigarettes. Intoxicating. It leaks into you, nocuous. Infects from the inside out.
His plan coming to fruition, you think. What he sought out to do all along, ever since you wandered close to this untameable Tartarean guard, and offered yourself up to the jowls of a starving beast.
He pulls away with a heavy breath, eyes charing around the edges; brittle briquette.
“Gonna be a good girl from now on? Come upstairs, be a good mum for dad? Or am I gonna ‘ave to cane this—” his hand drops, grabbing a fistful of your ass in his hand, fingers digging into the skin between your cheeks. Possessive. It cracks like a whip down your nerves. “—tight lit’le arse?”
You shake your head instantly. Quickly. “I'll be good,” you whisper into his chin, tongue flicking out to lick across his scars. The dried sweat on his skin tastes briny. Reminds you of the ocean on a brumous November evening. The incipient yawn of a ravenous hurricane gathering its lot on the shore.
Sirens blare in the distance. Fear curdles in your guts, sits heavy like a stone. An anchor.
“So sweet f’me,” he mutters, words deepening as his head falls back, letting you pepper kisses across the underside of his jaw. Mouthing along the constellation of scars. His voice is rumble. It shivers across your lips, tongue. Shakes the marrow in your bones. “Better stay this way, pet.”
Into his pulse, you murmur, “I think you like it better when I’m bad.”
You can feel the snarl brimming in the back of his throat. Your ass stings with the phantom burn of when he lashed out with the whip. It drags a whimper out from deep within your chest.
His hand tightens around your neck. A warning. “Got some guests over f’dinner tonight. Would love to finally introduce them to my sweet little wife—” deft fingers slip across the dewy skin of your folds, knuckles grazing over your drenched hole. The touch makes you squirm. “But if you’re gonna be bad, then I’ll leave you locked up down ‘ere.”
“I’ll be good,” you swear, words a hushed breath over his jugular. His finger flattens, drawls soft, slow circles around your clit. “Ah, I’ll—I’ll be so, so good, Simon—”
“Good girls deserve rewards, don’t they?” His palm flexes possessively around your throat when you nip at old scar tissue. “Maybe I’ll let you sleep in our bed tonight instead of in your dog house. We can ‘ouse together. I’ll fuck you proper—” he roughly shoves two fingers into your hole, leering when you gasp, back arching in a bow. “Know this pretty pussy has been achin’ for me, ‘asn’t it? Gonna breed it full—”
There’s static in your head, ringing in your ear. The noise distorted, pulled underwater. You think you say something, plead—no, no, no, anything but that—but his hand tightens around your throat, fingers pushing up, up into you, notching against that spot inside that makes your head swim, your vision flicker. The abyssal chasm inside of you aches, rages; its waters swell, currents frothing, slamming against the ceiling of its iron prison, and—
Simon pulls away. Fingers stilling inside of you. No friction, no relief. Hypoxia renders the world silent. Muted. Held in stasis, stagnating at the edge of a gaping precipice he holds you over, secured by the fragile curve of your neck, fine bone china.
Phosphenes swim by. The chossy wobbles.
This distance is agony. You need to be closer, closer, to crawl inside of him, to live in the brackets of his ribs, safe and protected from the world he warns you about. Stone cold. You mewl, whine—
“Gonna be my good little wife?”
Gasping with broken lungs, you nod. Nod, nod until you’re nauseous. Dizzy. Sick—
His spit cools on your lip. Your hackles raise, body shuddering in revulsion—some primal part rears, hisses it’s infectious. Wrong. Get rid of it—
“Not gonna run?”
Slowly, you lick your lips, catching his sickness on your tongue. Swallowing it down until it sinks like a stone to the bottom of your belly. Heavy, for such a small, damning thing.
How absurd, you think. How absolutely mad.
Then you whisper, paperthin, “kiss me again, please, Simon—”
And he moves. Liquid in the gloam. Made more for shadows, midnight, than for golden apricity, where the light is harsh on his face, unveiling ruins and ravines; monoliths meant to be paid tribute to in the dark. Your hands lift to his jaw when he moves in, catching your lips in a bruising, biting kiss.
His touch is searing. Owning. He isn't laying claim: no, you're already his.
It's possessive and angry. No finesse. All slate teeth and tender tongue. They slide together in a strange game; little fawn stupidly nipping at the tiger's heel. He lets you, groaning into your mouth when you arch back, hips pushing into his fingers, taking him deeper. A pale pantomime of what's to come when he lays you on his soft bed, sweet and divine, and buries himself deep.
It should scare you. Ought to. And maybe it does. Survival, you think, but you still pull him closer. Deeper. Because it’s bliss, you find. The world around you falling dead. Silent. Pulled into a vacuum. Teetering on the edge of a black hole, event horizon. He drags you in.
Simon hums, pulling you closer. Touching you—soft, sweet. Palms a gyve. Shackles, chains. His fingers lift from your neck, trailing down the slope of your throat until he reaches the golden loop of your collar's hook. His gaze glides, magmatic, down to where your leash dangles between your heaving breasts.
It's almost tender when he grabs it into his fist. When he pulls, pulls—
Your back arching. His fingers slipping deeper inside your cunt. Obedient little doll.
When he lifts his eyes, the look you find is hot enough to char bone. You taste blood in the back of your throat—
Into the seam of your mouth, he purrs, “good girl.”
—and you swallow it down with a moan.
(after all, you know better than to run from starving dogs—)
#when your kidnapper is mean and rude as hell but you've been dtf since day one: the manifesto#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#i forget where i put peoples hands sometimes and then have to go back and remind myself where everyone's at lmao#hope you enjoyedddddddddddd#i'm gonna go pour myself a glass of bleach bye#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#cod#ghost#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#ghost x you
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Summoning Your Secret Boyfriend Pt. 7
This part was brought to you by the amazing @megasweetbones . They wrote this part, I simply edited it. Go check them and their work! Show them some love!
First Previously AU Summary
“Were you the ones that summoned me, freeing from the bane that is paperwork?” the being asked.
Constantine was momentarily thrown for a loop, but the Brit was able to right himself more quickly than any of the other heroes.
"We summoned you to make a deal. I'm offering my soul-"
"Let me stop you there." The King's smile was mocking. And probably terrifying to everyone else, given his fangs. His lichtenberg lightning marks spasming in a way that could be mistaken as agitation. "I know who you are, John Constantine. Many hold claim to fragments of your soul. But, even if that was not the case, I am the one who holds claim to all souls. As all souls have , and will, pass through the Infinite. Your soul holds no weight here. Neither does your mind or body. Do not bargain with them. And do not bargain with me. Simply tell me why it is you summoned me, as I already know what I want from you."
Constantine looked like he didn't know whether to be offended or not. But it seems fear won out, as well as desperation.
"Forgive me, please, your majesty. Trigon has threatened to destroy our universe, starting with Earth. We have summoned you here to ask that Trigon be forced to return to the Infinite Realms. Or, to at least be stopped from devouring our universe."
It was as if everything paused. The billow of the wind, crackling ice, the flicker of the candles, the shifting of the lightning scars and cape of stars.
"He has threatened... what?" Quiet, almost shocked, the words passed from the Ghost King's lips.
Lips which twisted into a snarl. Fangs elongated. Flickering candles became green blazes. Wind roared back into whipping gales. The King's body distorted with his rage. Unfathomable and nightmarish.
"He dares to Challenge me?!? My Rule? My Authority? He knows of how this world has those under my protection and, yet, still believes he can touch what is MINE?"
If Red Robin and Supernova hadn't already been exposed to this Eldritch madness and the Realms, frequently, they'd probably be near catatonic. Like the other heroes. Most were on the ground or leaning against something. Aquaman looked sea sick. Flash was shockingly still for once. Even Batman couldn’t handle the madness the King oozed.
Supernova can smell that at least two people have pissed themselves. Euwh. What an awful day to have a nose. Especially with his heightened sense of smell. Phantom could probably smell it too, though was uncaring in his rage.
At least Constantine was able to speak in the face of an angry Ancient who Rules the Infinite. His experience with powerful otherworldly beings that could end him at any moment coming in play.
"Please, let us know what deal it is you wish to make in order to have Trigon stopped. He will be here very soon."
"I want you to abolish the Anti-Ecto Acts and free the souls of my citizens, who were captured and experimented on under such heinous laws." Phantom turned to look at Red Robin and Supernova, who should have pretended to be affected like the others. As it stands though, they were standing there. Unshaken and unaffected. "There are those among you who have already worked to undo the damage. But they should not be forced to work alone. I want all of you to support them and my people you have wronged. I want my people returned, safe and sound."
Phantom was finally able to calm down as he spoke. Wind slowed down and candles went back to but a flicker. He turned back to look Constantine dead in the eyes.
"Make no mistake, I would have fought for the Earth, and this universe, the moment I was made aware of Trigon. I have my own reasons for protecting this world and its people. But I expect the same in return. In that you are protecting the health, well-being, and safety of your people? I must do the same. Free my people and erase the laws that allow your kind to hunt us for sport and science. This is not a deal, as it's my job to prevent my people from destroying the Balance. No, this is a warning. My people may question why I'd save yours, given these laws. My people want war. While I deal with Trigon, you will undo the mistakes of your government. Or else, banishing Trigon would be for nothing."
With that, the King left. Ice and the haunting aura leaving with him.
Constantine looked over at the two young men who stood, casual and unmoving. He, as well as every other person in the room, was still shaking. The whole situation called for a drink, or a dozen. But he knew that he needed to get everyone in order to fulfill their end of the deal. The Bat would just knock down any liquor once he was aware and the Anti-Ecto Acts were too important to deal with while drunk. Bullocks.
To be continued?
Note: Hoped you guys enjoyed that! @megasweetbone really out did themselves. Now the question is this a good place to finish? There isn't much more I would add but some aftermath so I want you guys to tell me if I should just leave it as is or not. Once it is finished I am going to ask the others who helped with the story ( @fanfics-or-dragons and @megasweetbones ) if I can post it on Ao3! After all I want to properly credit them so knowing if they have an account so I can add them as a guest writer or credit them another way. Tell me your thoughts in the comments!
-Gremlin
#danny phantom#dcu#dcxdp#dp + dc#dp x dc crossover#danny fenton#superboy#conner kent#ghost king danny#time zone au#super dead tired#kon el superboy#kon el kent#tim drake#red robin#conner kent x tim drake#danny fenton x tim drake x conner kent#danny fenton x conner kent#danny fenton x tim drake#dpxdc#justice leauge dark#justice league#long post#other writers
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my love mine all mine - a sim jake imagine.
synopsis: in which jake decided to dance with you in his apartment kitchen at 3am while playing mitski’s songs
warnings: petnames (baby, princess)
words count: 954
type: fluff
pairing: !non-idol jake from enhypen x female reader!
author’s note: i wrote this while listening to this song… enjoy the imagine!!
english’s not my mother tongue… sorry if i made any mistakes!
You were just finishing cleaning the kitchen table where you and your boyfriend had eaten earlier in the evening when a small gesture slowly touched your back.
A soft melody you knew so well, Mitski's "My Love Mine All Mine," played in the background, adding a quiet and romantic ambiance to your boyfriend's messy apartment.
- My love...? he said so softly you thought he was whispering.
He turned you around with his hands on your hips, then gave you one of his charming smiles... Then you saw him. His white shirt was two buttons unbuttoned and looked wrinkled. He had probably forgotten to iron it... His brown hair was combed and sprayed so that nothing was out of place. His arms adorned with bracelets and his fingers with silver rings that made you fall in love all over again every time he wore them. His neat black pants, accompanied by his most beautiful black shoes, with his white shirt tucked around the belt, matched him perfectly. If you didn’t know any better, you could easily have thought he was straight out of a Cinderella movie: Jake looked like a real prince..
- Jake?
He made a face at you. He hated it when you called him that… His hand moved, letting his fingers take your left hand before spinning you around like a princess in a romantic movie, then letting go as if he hadn't evacuated the butterflies in your stomach.
- Would you dance with me, princess?" he asked, offering you his left hand, the same one he'd used to spin you around.
At that nickname, you grinned even wider, placed your right hand in his left, and watched as he led you toward the kitchen.
Still holding your hand, he stepped back a little, then moved his right knee on his left side as if he was bowing like a prince. Waiting your turn, you did the same and then saw him smile even wider. His smile was bright, brilliant, warm.
As he twirled you a second time, you saw him take your hand and place it on his hip as he intertwined your hands. As the music continued to play, Jake did a little dance step, then stopped.
- I'll try not to step on your feet...
You laughed softly, then began to dance with him. Your steps, your gestures, your dances were as majestic as swans. You moved with such grace and delicacy that you'd think the piano notes of the song were dancing with you as well.
- Do you remember that song?" he asked, and you nodded without hesitation.
Of course you do. It was the song you and Jake met to. You were studying your physics in the study hall of your school when you saw Jake come into the classroom with a wide-eyed look on his face.
‘Uh, excuse me? Do you know where Miss Catherine is? I've been looking for her since earlier, but she's nowhere to be found...' was the first sentence he said to you, before you realized that you were also waiting for her to explain the exercises. Maybe it was luck, maybe the universe had organized things so that you'd meet, but Miss Catherine had never come to explain the theory to you: Jake had. Things went on, and history was made: a friendship that turned into a love affair that seemed new, but had just passed the two-year mark last month.
- You stayed so long to help me with the theory," you replied, continuing the dance. We stayed so long that we almost got kicked out…
Your boyfriend nodded, then laughed. He twirled you once more, then kissed the palm of your hand.
- You're so beautiful, Y/N. You dance like a princess..
You smiled.
- You're dressed so elegantly, Jakey. I’m in my joggings while you’re literally wearing a prince’s outfit!
He shook his head.
- What are you talking about? You’re dressed just fine! You’re so beautiful.. I love this look on you, it might be my favourite..
While finishing his sentence, his nose moved closer to yours, and then your lips touched, causing the world to stop.
- Your lips are so soft. And...
Before Jake could continue, you rested back your lips on his. His arms moved down your back before returning to his original spot: your hips.
Your noses touched, then you saw the sweet smile Sim Jake had on his gentle face.
- I'm glad we met. I never thought I'd say this, but you're the one who brightens my day when I'm sad and makes me feel the best.
Before you could speak, Jake placed his index finger over your mouth, then shook his head.
- Shh! Let me do the talking, baby.
When he cleared his throat, his hands took yours:
- I want to keep living and dancing with you until our heads turn white and our grandchildren look at us and says ‘even at their age, their love is still strong’.
You couldn't help smiling.
- If you only knew how much I love you Y/N.
- I love you too, baby.
He placed his lips on yours, then turned you around one last time.
- As the song goes.... My love, mine, all mine...
Then, as if magnetized, your lips finished the dance together as the last notes of the song echoed through the kitchen, leaving incredible memories in your heads. It wasn't your last dance, far from it: the next one would probably be at your wedding, with the same song playing in the background, leaving your two smiles as the only source of light.
#ghostiiess#enhypen#enha#enhypen x reader#enha x female reader#enha x reader#enha x yn#enha x you#enha x y/n#enhypen x female reader#jake enhypen#enha jake#jake enha#enhypen x y/n#enhypen x you#enhypen x yn#enhypen jake sim#enhypen drabbles#enhypen jake#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enha fluff#enha imagines#enha scenarios#enha imagine#enhypen fluff#jake sim x reader#sim jake x female reader#sim jake x reader#jake sim
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Secret Garden The Musical in Concert Sitzprobe, 26 August 2022
source : Whatsonstage instagram story.
#hadley fraser#mark feehily#another proof that hadley has extra lungs#he could go on and on if mark hadn't stop#hadley's little smile in the end 🥰#and their little handshake#i love you hadley#the secret garden musical
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April Fools' Day
Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul
PS: i shouldve posted this yesterday, but i was too busy trying to fight for my life against all the boops
"Dumb bitch," Sukuna rolled over in bed to grab his phone — which hadn't stopped pinging with seemingly infinite notifications, "just can't take a hint, huh?"
The pink-haired man tried his best not to wake you up; he knew how cranky you could get.
He swiped open on the screen, and waited for his eyes to adjust to the light. As he suspected: this girl who had gotten ahold of his Instagram just wouldn't stop messaging him. Sukuna couldn't even remember her name without looking at her username.
They had met at one of his basketball games and she had tried to get his number; Sukuna didn't even say "no" or that he had a girlfriend, he just walked away from her.
Clara
Heyyyy
Im the girl from ur game last week
Ur like superrrr cute
You
Dont care
Clara
We should totally go out some time
Im free this wknd
You
Sure
Sukuna knew you would murder him if you found out what he was about to do, but he couldn't care less.
Clara
Rlly??
I knew u would finally come to ur senses 😘
Here's my number: xxx-xxx-xxx
Sukuna opened the number in his messages, and opened his camera app. He smiled, flashing his canines.
You
[Sent attachment]
Opened 2s ago
Sukuna sent the girl a picture of him in bed, with you sleeping on top of him. He had kiss marks from your lipstick all over his face and bare chest. You, on the other hand, remained sleeping soundly, completely unaware of your boyfriend's shenanigans.
Then, his texts turned green. The girl had blocked him.
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Marks
Sukuna doesn't understand the hold you have on him.
He's never particularly been a people person. In fact, people annoyed him. This has held true ever since he was a child with his twin brother, Yuji. That is, until Yuji brought you home one fateful day in middle school, claiming to have met a new friend.
You, with your sweet little smile, and your boundlessly generous heart. You with your giggle that chimes through his darkened soul like a golden bell. With the innocent rosy lips that he'd dreamed of having his first kiss with until high school, when it finally came to fruition. You had been irrevocably his ever since then, and it had been almost seven years.
So why does it still feel like you're the one with all the power here?
Why does it feel like you could create a monster out of him if you truly wanted to? Why does it feel like he's constantly at your beck and call? Why are you the one person on this green earth that reduces him to the feeling of an emotion as pathetic as helplessness?
"'Kuna...hurts..."
He'll admit, he takes it out on you.
Like now, when you're lying naked beneath him (his favorite spot to have you in) and begging him to take it easy on you. He's got you covered in sweat, exerting you to your ultimate limit. He loved to see you train until failure, after all. Adored the way your legs quivered when he relentlessly made you keep riding him, despite your exhaustion. Cooed at the way you begged him to be gentle, even though he knows you prefer it rough. You were quick to submit when he had you behind closed doors, despite how independent you appeared outside of them. Sukuna knew you better. Knew how much you loved following his direction. Receiving his praise.
You were lucky you were such a good girl.
Sukuna was torturing you now already, and you hadn't even disobeyed him. He can't imagine what he would do if you were unruly. Actually, he can. And the thought has him salivating even more as he sucks relentlessly at the nape of your neck. You're covered in marks from his teeth or the raw scrape of his tongue. Your throat has been tormented by his worship to the extent that he's even broken skin in the spots where he can feel your pulse beneath his lips.
Even Sukuna has to admit that you didn't deserve this abuse. You hadn't done a thing out of line, besides selfishly tearing the heart out of his chest for good. It was yours now.
The thought makes him growl against you.
God, you weren't even trying.
Your victory over him was so effortless.
It pissed him off.
He doesn't realize that he's bitten you particularly hard until you're suddenly recoiling away, burrowing yourself into his pillows with a small yelp. Your hand has sprung up to press your palm over Sukuna's mouth in some weak attempt at getting him to stop. Your other hand holds your throat as you purse your lips at him, which have also seen a good amount of Sukuna's biting that day.
You looked good in his teeth marks, what can he say?
"Are you mad or something?" You're blinking up at him like a confused little deer. Sukuna can't help that it makes him hungry. You were a perfect prey to him and he would be chasing you to the end of this lifetime. He could tell solely in the way that your stupid little nickname for him makes his heartstrings snap.
He takes a frustrated breath through his nose over your hand, nipping at your fingers over his mouth like a muzzled dog. Before you can pull them away, he's grasping your wrist tightly, his unforgiving grip a warning in itself. Easily, he pins it to the side of your head, rendering you halfway useless.
"Don't interrupt." He murmurs, his gaze burning into yours.
A helpless sob escapes you, but otherwise you stop trying to squirm away from him. You allow the onslaught to continue without a peep, bracing yourself each and every time a new hickey is being bruised into your skin. He doesn't offer you any words in terms of praise, but his grip on your wrist eventually loosens a bit. He never fully lets you go, though.
While he appreciates your cooperation, you eventually go almost too quiet and Sukuna thinks for a moment that maybe he's pushed you too far. He pulls away from your neck to look at you, finding your pink little face screwed up in an intense mixture of pleasure and agony. He feels a content smile spread across his face but it's cut short when his eyes hone in on your lips, which you're currently biting hard enough to draw blood from.
His free hand reaches up and grasps your chin, pressing his thumb below your bottom lip and forcing you to relinquish it. You blink slowly, your logical brain having exhausted itself up until this point. You easily let him pry your teeth apart, panting in his grasp.
"Mouth. Open." He commands.
You squirm in your overwhelming frustration, whining. "It hurts, 'Kuna!"
Sukuna hums in a mock sympathy, watching you suffer with a satisfied grin. You would have these marks for weeks. There were so many now, some more intense than others, and he wasn't even close to being done with you.
"You're being cruel." You accuse, watching your own hardship twinkle back at you in the reflection of his eyes. Your pout is purple and bruised from your attempts to keep quiet. Sukuna leans in closer and presses the sweetest kiss to your lips, as soft as the brush of a feather.
What was cruel was the fact that you had broken down everything Sukuna had ever known about himself. His strength was putty at your feet. His hatred for the world was a joke in your presence. His pride, a mere memory at the touch of your fingertips against his soul.
"You think this is cruel?" He whispers, mocking you. His voice is the taunt of a devilish trickster. "I think I've been going too easy on you. Allow me to rectify that."
There really is no curse more cruel than love.
#jjk#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#jjk smut#fluff and smut#I love a good mark#especially a bite mark oof#smut#barely smut really#my writing#jjk x reader
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-
-
-nsfw/smut-
"c'mon, raise those hips for me."
you're trying, you really are.
"i'm tired," you whined, turning around to view ghost, laying on his back, looking reposed. he lazily rolled his hips upwards, fucking the last few inches of his fat cock into you. the moan that left you was muted by a large hand over your mouth, leather against your lips.
ghost quickly flipped you onto your stomach, watching as your spine curved to create such an alluring figure as yours. his hands were attached to the fat of your hips, fingers tracing the little marks and blemishes that further increased your beauty.
you felt his tip press right at your slit, impatient and greedy, you canted your hips backwards, a sorry attempt at getting him back inside your cunt. instead, this had resulted in a harsh slap against your ass, the sting blurred between pain and pleasure. a small cry left you as tears welled in your eyes, threatening to fall past your waterline.
"patience, sweetheart."
you sniffed, "don't be mean, simon..."
he chuckled, the low timbre having you pathetically clench around nothing. he pressed a chaste kiss at your back, "sorry, 'm sorry, love."
you knew he wasn't. that didn't matter, though.
without warning, he shoved his cock into your pussy, hearing your muffled whimper as he'd done so. "quiet, don't wanna wake up our little girl, do you?" his own voice was strained as he scolded you, beginning to set his own pace. unforgiving and harsh, making you lightheaded and dizzy.
you felt him right at your womb again and again and fucking again. you felt any semblance of your very sanity begin to melt away as he fucked you, so roughly that it almost had you begging for him to go easy on you.
ghost was used to being rather quiet, but you were fucking struggling. any sound from you could potentially ruin what the two of you had going on. and you couldn't take that, not after the lack of intimacy between you two since the birth of your baby.
"there we go, mama. fuckin' perfect." he groaned, watching you quiver underneath his impressive physique.
fuck, you couldn't possibly be quiet after such praise, a moan leaving your agape lips. ghost didn't seem to mind your sudden outburst. instead, the grip on your hips tightening, fucking into your wet and tight cunt with such a primal and desperate need.
he was fucking you like a thing void of a soul, like a rag doll. every single time you felt him back inside, he pushed you deeper and deeper into the mattress. your hands had felt useless, not even able to support your own weight. you offered them to him, feeling his lone hand take both of yours, anchoring himself to you without his pace even faltering. it was a reminder to you both that he's fucking huge, so strong and capable of easily overpowering you. it had you nearly sobbing, your insides squeezing him snugly.
you heard him curse behind you, filling you to the brim and staying still. you shifted, confused on why he'd stopped.
"think you can do somethin' for me, sweet girl?"
"anything, anything for you," you replied almost instantly, words slurred like you'd been inebriated.
"yeah?" ghost started, shallowly thrusting into your cunt. you could practically hear the grin he had on his face, seeming to enjoy your torment.
a small 'mhm' was all you could come up with, words barely being able to form over your tongue and past your lips. a small sob left you as you remained stretched open by him, unmoving.
"wanna have another baby." as he'd said so, he'd delicately traced the stretch-marks over your hips and thighs. his touches were filled with nothing short of reverence.
well, you certainly hadn't expected him to say that. your daughter wasn't even six months yet, your body barely even fully healed. yet, all you could do was give him a nod. once he'd gotten your answer, you felt his body against your back, his lips at your neck. you knew that there’d be marks there in the morning- but that didn’t matter, not when he began to resume that dizzying speed.
"give me a boy this time."
#fanfic#smut#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod smut#cod x reader#ghost cod#ghost mw2#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#thanks for 6k omg <3<3
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— CALL ME LITTLE SUNSHINE | part i
pairing: rockstar ! eddie x innocent ! reader
tags: pet names. dirty talk. making-out. fingering. oral; (fem receiving). marking; (hickeys). loss of virginity. corruption kink. semi-public sex. eddie is entirely pussy whipped.
w/c: 6.7k.
a/n: welcome to part one! it's been a hot minute since i've posted anything as thought out and in-depth as this so if you could take a few minutes to reblog or comment some feedback, i'd very much appreciate it. ♥
"Corroded Coffin! Corroded Coffin! Corroded Coffin!"
The ever-growing crowd had been calling for the band the entire time you'd been waiting in line, which, after looking at the watch tucked beneath the sleeve of your cardigan, had been almost an hour and a half. The chanting had gotten so loud that, at some point, you'd stopped being able to hear yourself think, instead relying on Steve's large hand clasped around your own to tell you when to shuffle forward.
You felt out of place, unlike Steve and Robin. Everywhere you looked, people were dressed in leather and chains; piercings here, there, and everywhere; fishnets; big black platform boots; heavy make-up; and tattoos. And then there was you, dressed in a simple summer dress, hugging a knitted cardigan around your shoulders, wearing strappy sandals, and looking like someone right out of the Stepford Wives.
Other people noticed; you'd swear it, though no one said anything. As you looked between people, you caught a few of them looking at you, their expressions a motley of emotions that made you shift uncomfortably. Metal music had never been a particular favourite of yours, and concerts like this—where people were packed in like sardines—definitely weren't your preferred scene. The thought of being alone, snuggled beneath a blanket, and enjoying a glass of Moscato was much more appealing.
But you'd promised Steve and Robin that you'd come.
Well, no, not exactly. You hadn't promised either of them anything; instead, you'd given in to their constant whining. Steve and Robin had hung themselves from your legs as though they were dramatic, tantruming toddlers, pouting, and begging you to go with them. And after promising to cook dinner every night for a week—no, wait, a month!—your resolve finally broke.
That was how you found yourself finally walking through the double doors of the stadium. A gust from the air conditioner greeted you as you stepped inside, blowing your hair into your eyes and lip gloss, but it was a welcomed relief.
"I think that took literally forever." Your feet were already aching, and the thought of standing for another two hours was mentally and physically exhausting. Sure, you'd listened to some of Corroded Coffin's songs and thought they were good, but you weren't looking forward to standing in a sweaty crowd.
"Right. That was crazy, and they only have two scanners going. It's going to take forever to get everyone inside." Steve replied. His fingers tightened around yours when he felt your strides slowing, and he turned to notice your attention was on the merchandise display a few feet away. Following your gaze, he found the band tees hung up on a pinboard, images pressed onto the fronts and backs of each one. Some showed the band's tour dates and the cities they were scheduled to stop in, while others had stylised versions of Eddie's face.
Steve practically beamed with pride. He was proud of how far Eddie had come since they'd met—from school freak to famous rockstar. It was a big change, but a well-deserved one, given all the shit he'd been through. Somehow, he'd remained modest and hadn't forgotten where he'd come from; he'd gotten his uncle out of the trailer and into a two-bedroom apartment; he thanked his uncle and friends during every interview; he'd even forgiven his childhood bullies, though he never forgot what they'd done to him.
"Come on," he said while tugging your hand. "We should get in before the show starts," he said when you hesitated, teeth tugging on your lower lip as you continued to eye the shirts, bandanas, and posters on display. It was called the Upside Down Tour, and the band had released a limited-edition shirt for the tour.
"I want to get a shirt; this is the first concert like this I've ever been to. I want something to remember it." You explained. You wriggled your fingers in his, hinting that you wanted him to let go. If you'd have blinked, you might have missed it, but you swore that Steve and Robin shared a look—the kind that carried secret conversations and amusement.
Your heart stuttered in your chest, painful and sudden, while your mind raced to a dozen terrible thoughts. What if they regretted bringing you along, even though they'd practically begged you to go? What if they were angry? Fuck, what if they hated you? You must have looked like you were about to pass out because Steve took pity on you, reassuringly squeezing your hand as he stepped closer.
"Shit, sorry," he apologised with a crooked smile. "It's all good. We can pick one up after the show, okay? We need to get inside before security locks the doors."
"Oh," you answered. You ducked your head to hide your face, which felt like it was burning with embarrassment. You suddenly felt childish for letting your anxiety get the better of you, especially given that this was Steve and Robin, who had been nothing but kind from the moment you'd first met them. "Of course. After the show."
As though she sensed your distress, which she more than likely did because you radiated emotions like the sun radiated heat, Robin grabbed your other hand, lacing her fingers with yours, and gave you a sympathetic smile that mimicked the one on Steve's face. You loved them, but sometimes you hated them. So often, Robin and Steve seemed to be on the same page, on the same mental wavelength, having entire conversations with the lofting of a brow or half-smirk while you were on your own, a stranger looking in.
You tried not to think about it and tried desperately not to let negative emotions get the better of you tonight. You were at a concert with two amazing people, about to see a fantastic band play live. It was going to be a good night. Steve showed his ticket to one of the women managing the traffic flow, who motioned down a steep staircase into a standing pit right in front of the stage.
As you predicted, the crowd was already massive; there were too many people to fit comfortably within the stadium, but no one would complain as long as everyone behaved. And everyone would behave if they were able to see the band play. It wasn't long before the lights went down, and the crowd's cheering rose to a thunderous crescendo.
You felt the violent vibrations of the bass guitar as the bassist began the opening rift—how it rattled the ivory cage around your lungs until your entire body swayed to the rhythm. A sudden fireworks explosion dazzled and blinded you as the crowd rushed forward. Then the atmosphere turned electric, casting a weaving web on the crowd and drawing them in.
When the smoke settled, you saw the band had taken their places on stage, dressed in black denim, leather, chains, tattoos, and wild hair. They preened beneath the attention of their peers as the frontman and lead singer, Eddie Munson, moved to stand before a microphone. "I hope you're ready to rock, Hawkins, 'cause we're not stopping until the cops come knocking!"
Steve grabbed your wrist and dragged you in front of him, pushing you closer to the stage. That was how you found yourself standing front and centre. One of his hands grabbed your hip firmly, ready to break the fingers of any other wandering hands. He wrapped his other arm around Robin's shoulders, holding her to him as they sang along to a song you didn't know the words to.
It wasn't your proximity to him or the bruising grip of his fingers that warmed your blood, but the singer on stage. You'd seen pictures of Eddie in the trashy magazine you picked up from the gas station occasionally; each one seemed to be a different headline, each as scandalous as the last. Corroded Coffin's singer caught with another woman? Eddie Munson, Satanic Priest! Some of them were ridiculous, and none of them had been particularly entertaining, especially when, in every interview, he seemed humble, perhaps even flustered by the fame.
The sight of him on stage sent heat dripping down your cheeks and into your neck, spiralling through your veins to gather at your core.
He looked like a devil but had the face of an angel—wild curls bounced around his face, you caught glimpses of his inked skin, and there was a perfect trail of hair on his abdomen. He strummed at his guitar strings as though it were his lover, plucking the cords with perfectly practised movements. You wondered what else his fingers could do, and a wild blush crept into your face.
As though your thoughts weren't mortifying enough, he seemed to have noticed. His eyes found yours in the crowd, as if he could see straight into your brain and was plucking the fantasies from your mind.
The world slowed to a crawl and faded until it was just the two of you and your racing thoughts. You drank in the sight of him. You caught glimpses of his tattoos, watched how droplets of sweat rolled down the hollow of his throat as the heat of the stage lights bore down on him, and watched how his lips moved as he sang, the rasps of his voice enough to make you tremble.
You tugged your lower lip between your teeth, almost afraid to look away; you wanted this moment to go on forever and ever. But as abruptly as it began, the fantasy ended when he looked out across the crowd, and as he did, the world snapped back into place. Your heart was racing, and your breath was erratic.
You felt silly having been caught up in such an intense moment with a perfect stranger, even if he was handsome and famous—a perfect mixture of exhilaration and embarrassment. You glanced at Robin and Steve, hoping they hadn't noticed your captivated state. They hadn't.
The two were still singing and enjoying the music, bouncing up and down as a guitar solo swept through the speakers. Worrying your lip between your teeth, you looked back at the stage, trying valiantly to refocus on the music. After a while, the guitar's pounding bass and electrifying energy were enough to pull you back into the moment.
You felt captivated, as though whatever dark spell he was weaving had fallen upon you, too. His performance was filled with raw emotion and a rebellious spirit, with the lyrics resonating with something deep inside you, echoing your desires, and enticing a wildness to spark in your veins.
You stole another glance at him, and his eyes again met yours. It was almost as if the universe had conspired to connect you two in a chaotic sea of people. With a sudden burst of courage you didn't think yourself capable of, you gave a bashful smile and lifted your hand, waving at him.
He saw and acknowledged you with a knowing smile, to your surprise and amusement. It felt like a dirty secret. You would swear that your face was on fire from how hard you were blushing, your fingers wringing together nervously at the front of your dress.
It seems silly. In fact, you knew it was silly, childish, and stupid.
You didn't know him, and he didn't know you. You knew the media's version of him—the stylised rockstar who'd grown up poor, defied the odds, and came out on top—the playboy who had a different girl every other week and who'd been caught having sex with fans in odd places. But what you'd felt, however brief, had ignited a fire in the pit of your stomach. You felt it smouldering as you were lost in the music and its wild energy.
The last guitar riff played, and the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. You expected the crowd to thin down now that the show was finished, but they remained, hooting and hollering, vying for his attention.
"He was incredible!" You shouted as you turned to Steve, straining to be heard above the crowd. He gave you a funny expression and tilted his head to the side, causing a stir of hair to fall into his face.
"What?"
"I said," you shouted while moving closer to him. "That was incredible!"
This time, he heard you, chuckling under his breath and holding you in place when you tried to slip through the crowd. And then you saw Eddie standing at the edge of the stage, a security guard at his side. You could see they were talking, now if only you'd learned to read lips. Except you didn't need to read lips to know he was pointing right at the three of you.
Your heart stopped mid-beat, your mouth running dry, as a second security guard approached the three of you. From where you were frozen in time, you didn't see Steve and Robin grinning at each other or the glint in their eyes.
You were star-struck, staring at the security guard as if he'd grown a second head. And he might as well have because things like this didn't happen. Maybe it happened in the movies, but not real life and you weren't some perfectly poised beauty. You were a real woman with feelings; they were all over the place right now.
You grabbed Steve's arm when he stepped away, pulling him to a stop. He looked down at you with a furrowed brow. "What the hell is going on?" you hissed at him, not angry but entirely surprised and uncertain. He gave you a dashing and daring smile.
"Think he just invited us backstage."
"What?"
You'd tried to convince yourself that this was a wild dream. You even pinched yourself—twice. Things like this didn't happen to ordinary people, especially people like you. The shy woman who had to have a drink in her hand, the woman who took sips to fill the silence when talking became overwhelming, the woman who stammered and blushed with little more than a wink from a handsome man.
But it was happening. And now there you were, backstage, with Steve and Robin at your side, staring at a door with the band's name written in block letters. You could hear people milling about inside.
The security guard knocked, and you heard the muffled sound of movement, followed by something being knocked over and a chorus of laughter. Finally, the door was hauled open.
"Eddie!"
Robin's outburst startled you. She pushed past you and Steve, then the security guard, and threw herself at the man. You gawked at them, eyes wide as your soul burst to life, heart skipping several beats when he spun her in a circle. Robin's feet didn't touch the ground as they laughed.
You couldn't believe it.
There, standing not even five feet away, was the lead singer of Corroded Coffin, Eddie-fucking-Munson—the very same man you'd been eye-fucking on stage not even an hour ago. A part of you wanted the ground to open wide and swallow you whole. Another part screamed at you to cling to him as Robin had done.
"Hey," Steve whispered, leaning slightly closer to your ear. "Are you doing okay? You look like you've seen a ghost or something."
"What?" You replied, your voice rising an octave in panic. Your gaze whirled between Steve and the duo, who seemed oblivious to your presence, and then back again. "Yes, well, no! You didn't tell me you knew him!"
"Who? Eddie?" He asked.
"That guy, right there, the famous guy hugging our friend?" You were incredulous, your arm flailing in their direction, much to Robin's amusement and Eddie's confusion. "Yes, him! You two know him?"
"What about Eddie?"
The sudden appearance of his voice made you squeak in surprise. His voice was dark, deep, and delectable, like chocolate, and hoarse. It felt like liquid heat pouring down your spine, flooding every intersecting bone until you trembled. Eddie smiled, and his cheeks dimpled in a way that had you blushing wildly.
You stared as Steve and Eddie swept each other into a bear hug, slapping each other on the back and again on the arm as they came apart. Robin gave you a playful poke in the side, bringing your attention back to her.
"What about Eddie?" She asked, which inevitably brought all of their attention to you. You shifted beneath the weight of their combined stare. Your eyes found Eddie's, and you looked away quickly.
"Yeah, what about Eddie, girl?" He playfully added.
"Nothing! It's just that—um—well, I didn't know you—uh—that they knew you. That's all." You say, stumbling over the words like an awkward teenager. You mentally kicked yourself, but in truth, you'd never been good at talking to people. You'd always been a little shy, and everyone made fun of you before Steve and Robin slowly started coaxing you out of your shell.
And it wasn't as though he knew you. He probably hadn't seen you in the crowd. Now that you think about it, Eddie was just as likely to be smiling at them, not you, when he was on stage. But that didn't do anything to pull the blush out of your face or stop the way you shuffled under the gaze of the trio.
"Oh, yeah," Eddie said with an awkward laugh, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. Your eyes went a little buggy when his shirt rode up, revealing that trail of hair that disappeared into the band of his jeans.
You looked away quickly before he could catch you staring, finding something on the wall that suddenly fascinated you. He didn't notice, or at least didn't say anything if he did. "Yeah, yeah, the three of us went to high school together. It seems like a lifetime ago."
Robin stared at him, her expression incredulous. "It was, like, five years ago, Eds. Don't you dare make me older than I am!" She said as the back of her hand connected with his stomach. Eddie huffed as he doubled over dramatically, clutching his stomach and coughing as though she'd just punched the air from his lungs. You laughed despite yourself, momentarily drawing his attention to you; he flashed you a dazzling smile before hustling the three of you inside.
It would have been spacious inside the room if it wasn't filled with boxes of merchandise, band equipment, and the rest of the band. The little composure you'd managed to hold onto disappeared when Steve and Robin rushed inside, similarly greeting the others, hugging and laughing like old friends.
You lingered at the door, unsure what to do with yourself, when you felt a hand against the small of your back, fingertips tapping just above the curve of your ass, high enough to be respectful but low enough to send a delicious shiver down your spine.
"Come on, sweetheart. They don't bite," Eddie said with a laugh before leaning down to whisper in your ear. You felt his breath against your neck, the warmth of it making you shiver as he caught a glimpse of your cleavage before you hugged your cardigan around yourself.
"Well, I might," he added. "If you ask nicely."
He didn't wait to see your reaction, but from the beaming smile plastered on his face, he'd heard your squeak of surprise. Instead, Eddie flounced into the room, joining Steve, Robin, and the others as you followed.
Once official introductions were made, you sat at the end of one of the couches next to Eddie, who seemed entirely unaware of your nervous inner turmoil. Occasionally, his thigh brushed against yours, jostling you in his excitable state as the group recalled their high school years.
"You were quite the ladies' man in high school, Steve. Don't act bashful now," the drummer, Gareth, said with a booming laugh. You found yourself smiling and laughing with him, amused by the way Steve rubbed at the back of his neck and tried to deflect.
"I remember Robin telling me that the girls used to call him King Steve." You added. Gareth howled with laughter at how Steve flushed a deeper shade of pink. You smiled at him, pretty and sweet, but should have known he wouldn't let that slight go unanswered. You hardly had time to steel yourself before he returned fire.
"Hey now," he said, his smile positively devilish. "Don't start throwing shade if you can't handle the sun, sweets. Because I could tell some stories about you, too. Well, no, I couldn't. I don't think I've ever heard those bed springs squeak."
You choked on a mouthful of beer, coughing as you glared at him in horror. "Steven Joseph Harrington!" Your face burned at the revelation of a secret you'd shared with him one drunk and wild night. Using his full government name was enough for him to know he'd crossed a line, but the laughter of his friends encouraged him.
"I can't help it if that's the truth, you know," he said with a shrug.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Eddie shouted, shaking his hand wildly to get everyone's attention, especially yours. You squirmed in your seat, pushing yourself hard against the arm of the couch to try and escape his intense stare when he rounded on you.
"Never? As in never, ever?"
At that moment, you wanted the ground to open wide and swallow you. It wasn't that you were embarrassed to be a virgin, but the attention made you uncomfortable. You'd never been the type of woman to want a one-night stand with a stranger. Steve had offered once when you'd both been drunk and confessing secrets, but you'd never felt the itch.
And it wasn't that you considered your virginity to be a cherished and sacred part of yourself. But you'd never wanted to be that vulnerable with someone unless you trusted them entirely.
"Bullshit." Eddie spat, not nasty, but disbelieving. "You've gotta be shitting me. A pretty thing like you hasn't ever had sex? I know you're lying."
You stared at your hands resting in your lap, fingers wringing the hem of your dress until the stitching threatened to fray. From across the room, you heard the vague sound of Robin talking, mumbling something about you being as ripe as a cherry. She purposely popped her lips, and you wanted to die.
"Jesus Christ," you managed to choke out. "Yes, okay, I'm a total virgin. Can we talk about something else, please?"
The universe appeared to take mercy on you because the conversation changed topics at breakneck speed. One moment, Eddie was gawking at you; the next, he was focused entirely upon Jeff, who'd bought up something called the Hellfire Club. You took the opportunity to down the rest of your beer, letting the flavour of it wash away the taste of embarrassed tears.
The night went on in relative peace. You drank with them, listening to their wild stories of high school shenanigans and offering your own when prompted. You hadn't realised how much time had passed until you glanced at your watch and gawked: two in the morning.
"So, never?" Eddie asked without warning, his voice soft and almost innocent, breaking the silence that had blossomed within the room. You pulled your cardigan around your shoulders as though the thin material could shield you from his gaze. The others had fallen asleep, either drunk or high or just beyond exhausted. It was just the two of you.
Just you and Eddie.
"Look," you said with a sigh, your face burning again. "I really don't want to talk about that."
He held his hands in the universal sign of hold up. "I'm not judging you, sweetheart. I'm just curious. A pretty thing like you has to have a trail of broken hearts behind her."
You laughed despite yourself and relaxed back onto the couch, enjoying the warmth radiating from him. He was so close that you could see the way his Adam's apple bobbed with each swallow, the way he traced his lips with the tip of his tongue, the way the fabric of his jeans stretched across his lap, the bulge there. . .
You snapped your head away when he caught your staring.
"It's not like that. I've had boyfriends. I've just never felt comfortable doing anything with them. Not that they were bad people. I didn't want to do it because everyone was doing it. Then I got busy, and dating stopped happening. You understand? Of course you do. You're famous; I doubt you have much time for dating. Not that anyone wouldn't want to date you."
You were rambling, the words falling from your lips like verbal vomit, and you couldn't stop. Eddie silenced you, moving without warning to close the distance lingering between the two of you. He grabbed you by the back of the neck, his fingers rough and warm, pulling you into the wall of his chest so that he could slot his mouth against yours.
Eddie Munson tasted like cigarette smoke and alcohol, dark desire wrapped in leather. Eddie Munson smelled like adrenaline and sex, a woman's wet dream. Before you knew what you were doing, you kissed him back, desperate for more.
Eddie led you into an adjacent room, his fingers enveloping yours, providing a comforting anchor. The soft snores of the others faded into a distant hum as he closed the door. Your gaze traced the contours of his back, the curve of his shoulders, the way his studded jacket draped over them, the weight of his chunky black boots and the ruggedness of his ripped jeans. The belt cinched around his narrow waist, crowned with a buckle shaped like a bat, adding a touch of mystery to his rugged charm.
He turned abruptly, his hand slamming against the door beside your head, eliciting a startled yelp from you. Eddie pressed against you, your hands instinctively clutching the fabric of his shirt. Caught between the desire to pull him closer and the instinct to push him away, you found yourself staring at him with wide, uncertain eyes. Your heart pounded against its ivory prison, the uncertainty of the moment adding to its frantic beat.
"E—Eddie?" You managed to stammer his name, your voice impossibly quiet, overflowing with uncertainty and a mix of fear and desire. He didn't seem to mind. He smiled at you, his breath washing over your mouth and nose like a sweet rum, leaving you light-headed. You squeezed your thighs together as tight as you could, desperate to stifle the growing heat at your core.
He felt it, your nervous shifting and the wild beating of your heart as he cruised a hand along your body, from your hip and then over your breast to clutch the back of your neck. He rubbed his thumb over your racing pulse. "Has anyone ever kissed you like this before? Pushed you against a wall, touched you, told you how beautiful you are?"
Your face burned. Eddie knew that you'd been kissed before; you'd told him as much. But you'd also told him you were a virgin. At twenty-four, you'd almost grown out of being embarrassed by the fact.
"No," you answered in a low exhale, trying to duck your head to avoid his smouldering stare. His eyes were blown with lust, almost black as coal, as he pushed his thumb against your chin, forcing you to look at him.
He leaned in closer, the feel of him like a weighted blanket on your chest, making it harder to breathe but in a pleasant way. It made your head fuzzy, like floating in a beautiful daydream, except his lips ghosted over yours. The faintest of touches had reality snapping into place around you.
"Never, ever?" Eddie whispered, his lips brushing, tugging, teasing yours. He was so close that he'd invaded all your senses until all you saw, heard, and breathed was him. He held fast when he wanted to move. Eddie waited for someone to give in to desire and bring the other into the flames. He wanted and needed it to be you.
The tiny whimper you made shot through him, racing through his blood like a bolt of electricity until his cock throbbed. And then you took the plunge, a hand at the back of his neck, the other hauling him in by that pretty studded jacket so you could brush your mouth against his.
It was all he needed—a silent confession, unspoken permission.
Eddie pushed against you until you felt the studs of his leather jacket and his dangling chains pressing into you through your clothing, your dress suddenly restrictive and in the way. His hands were everywhere, cupping your face, running through your hair. And then he dropped to his knees with a thud, pressing kisses down your stomach, leaving wet marks against the fabric of your dress as he ran his hands up the backs of your legs.
"No one ever touched you like this?"
You felt like you were going up in flames. His touch was fire licking your skin, beautiful and pure, leaving you trembling. His hands moved up the back of your thighs, and when his mouth found your belly button, tongue swirling once, then twice, you grabbed him by the shoulders to steady yourself.
"Words, sweet girl. I need you to answer," he said in a husky tone, pinching the back of your thigh to bring you out of your mind and into the moment. He looked at you from beneath his impossibly dark lashes, his eyes dark, twinkling with mischief.
"Never," you managed to gasp when his hands began drifting high, pushing your dress up until he could bunch it at your hips. And then he was face-to-face with your panties, groaning dramatically, making a sound that would make a pornstar blush.
"Have mercy," Eddie moaned, his breath hot against your mound even through the barrier of clothing. His eyes moved back to yours, and you flushed with embarrassment. He was staring at you like he wanted to devour you. "Even your fucking panties are adorable. That little bow? I'm going to take my time unwrapping this present."
Yet, despite this admission, he didn't take his time.
His mouth landed on your clothed cunt without a preamble. Your knees shook and threatened to give out as he worked his tongue against the wet fabric, tasting your arousal and letting it slide down his throat like a fine wine. Eddie found that virgins were quick to get wet. His calloused fingers kneaded the globes of your arse, pulling you closer, his talented tongue pushing your panties into your slit so he could tease your clit with gentle licks.
You bit your knuckles to stifle the sounds of your moans as pleasure snaked through your veins, creeping through your bloodstream until you broke into a sweat.
"Put your hands in my hair," he demanded with a rough voice, and like a mindless fool, you complied. His hair was a mess of wild curls that you pulled on, sinking your fingers deep into his plush locks when he started to work your panties down your thighs. "Good girl."
"Oh god." As the fabric pooled at your ankles, your head hit the door with a soft thud. You were like putty in his hands—willing to walk through the fires of hell if it meant he'd keep touching you. Eddie freed one of your ankles and threw your leg over his shoulder, bringing you closer.
Words could not describe the feeling of his tongue against your slick folds or the sensation of the tip flicking against your clit. It was like lightning arched through the sky to melt the skin from your bones. You were burning up. And he'd lit the match.
Eddie was loud and messy, lewd. The sounds that clawed up his throat were pornographic. Each wet schlick of his mouth was accompanied by a throaty moan as he sucked your clit and teased your throbbing hole with the tip of his tongue.
It was an out-of-body experience—you never realised you could feel this good. Eddie held you by the back of the thighs, his grip firm, pulling you onto his tongue until your flesh goosepipmpled beneath his touch. You could have collapsed when he withdrew, a line of saliva connecting the tip of his tongue to your clit.
"Words, pretty girl. You gotta use them, or I'm going to stop."
You whined desperately, weaving your fingers deeper into his wild hair. "Please don't stop, Eddie. . ."
"Then talk to me. Let me hear those pretty sounds."
He waited only a moment, his dark eyes staring into yours with the intensity of the sun. He took in your flushed cheeks and shallow breaths that made your chest heave. Then he resumed his meal. The sound you made in response was embarrassing—at least, it should have been. You should have wanted the ground to split open and swallow you. But you didn't.
"It's good," you choked out, squeezing your eyes shut as he ran the flat of his tongue along your slit, the tip flicking your clit in a delicious way that made your hips twitch; forward, then back, like you wanted him to eat you alive but also to escape.
The feeling was exquisite—like nothing you had ever felt—knocking the air from your lungs, making the muscles in your legs tense and your core weep. Your whole body jerked under his tongue, a shiver shaking your spine, your bones turning to jelly as he licked and sucked your drenched cunt. "Oh god. . . I think. . . I—I'm close."
You'd had orgasms before, but nothing quite like this. It was a slow build, each swipe of Eddie's tongue amplifying the pressure between your hips, sending jolts of electricity through your veins until your nerves crackled and popped. It was difficult to describe; you could taste the words on the tip of your tongue, but they melted away with each moan he drew from your lips.
And then it spread out through your body, a searing warmth that threatened once more to melt the skin from your bones.
"You're so wet, sweetness, m'fucking drowning here," Eddie said. Even though his words were vulgar, the low growl with which he spoke sent you tumbling down the other side of pleasure. The first wave zinged through you, knocking the air from your lungs and sparking every one of your nerves to life.
You bit your knuckles hard until you tasted blood, but the flavour was quickly lost as the second wave seared through your limbs. Eddie didn't stop—not once. Each swipe of his tongue against your clit, each push of it into your virginal hole, sent wisps of fire shooting through your veins, adding stars and galaxies bursting to life behind your scrunched-shut eyes.
When you returned to earth, you found yourself trembling, his strong hands the pillars that kept you upright. Eddie kissed his way back up your body, slowly working your dress up as he went until he could pull it over your head. He threw it over his shoulder, the fabric a distant memory as it hit the ground, lost and now forgotten.
"No one ever made you cum before, have they?" He whispered, his breath hot, his smirk feral, as he teased his lips along the slope of your neck. You whined when your bare cunt rubbed against his dark denim jeans, the rough drag of the rips and tears against your lips sending you hurtling toward the sky once more.
"No," you managed to say before catching his mouth for a wild, clumsy kiss. Eddie happily obliged, pushing his tongue into your mouth and licking your teeth so you tasted yourself.
"Touch me. . ."
"What do good girls say?"
"Please."
You would die if he didn't touch you in the next three seconds. You would collapse to the ground, melt into a puddle at his feet, and literally die.
Thankfully, he took pity on you.
Eddie kissed you deeply, with the fire of a thousand suns; his hot breath stole through your lungs when he swallowed your moans, leaving you on the verge of combustion. You felt lost in him, touching him here, there, and everywhere as you tried to strip him. Eddie didn't let you. He grabbed your wrists and held them at the small of your back, and he moved you both across the room.
Your lips never once parted. The moment was composed of hot breaths, searing kisses, and teasing bites, weakening your knees terribly. Eddie fell back into a high chair in front of the make-up mirrors. You were desperate to climb into his lap, to wind your legs around him and leech the warmth from his chest, but instead, he turned you and pulled you into his lap, back to chest.
"Eddie," you whispered his name in a sigh, heady with desire. "I want more. . ."
He pressed a kiss against the shell of your ear, smiling in response. His lips were wet, his mouth wanting as he lowered it to your next, sucking a mark into your plush skin. "Open your eyes, sweetness."
Eddie hooked your knees over his thighs, spreading you open and exposing you to the mirror. The tips of his fingers ghosted along the crease of your inner thigh, making your breath hitch in anticipation. "You're beautiful," he said with a hum, nuzzling his nose into your hair. You caught his eyes in the reflection and saw the stark desire that had turned his pupils black, the hunger.
And you saw the expression mirrored in your own reflection. Your skin was flushed the subtlest shade of pink, pussy glistening with arousal. Eddie honestly thought you were the prettiest thing he'd ever fucking seen; so sweet, so innocent.
The stretch of his thick fingers was immediately exquisite, the slick of your arousal coating them entirely. Eddie watched the mirror, transfixed by the way it dropped from around his fingers, sliding down the curve of your ass to darken his denim jeans.
He felt you clench around him, tension seeping through your body as the pain collided with pleasure, twisting through your veins like snakes, intertwined, threatening to consume you from the inside out. You cried out when he crooked them, hips rising in search of more; his other hand cruised up your body, the soft swell of your stomach, cupping a tit in the palm of his hand, thumb teasing your nipple into a hardened peak.
Eddie growled against your neck. He was as hard as a rock, and each jolt of your hips had your arse rutting against his aching cock. You reached back to grab his hair, winding your fingers through his wild curls as the pleasure mounted. You were a guitar, and he had years of practice. He watched the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way you couldn't sit still as he fucked his fingers in and out of your cunt, the way you clawed at his jeans.
You put a hand over your mouth to stifle the way you moan, loud, wantonly, like a whore. You felt dirty—like this was a scandalous secret. The thought of being found was erotically terrifying.
"You getting close, sweetness?" Eddie asked; no, he growled the words against your neck, teeth clipping the sensitive skin. "I can feel it. You're squeezing my fingers so fucking tight. Are you thinking about my cock? How much better it'll feel than my fingers?"
As though to emphasise his words, his thrust against you, his erection hard against the globes of your arse, leaving him moaning as his own muscles twisted with desire, pure liquid heat pouring through his bones.
"Cum for me, baby."
He wasn't asking; no, he was demanding.
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#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#rockstar!eddie x innocent!reader#call me little sunshine#call me little sunshine - part one
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vegetable patch (3)
farmer!captain john price & (brief) hybrid!simon
cw: hybrid au, bunny!reader, farmer!price, pregnant!reader, pregnancy, man-handling, fingering, pwp/smut, full nelson (sex position), oral sex (f receiving), threesome, guard dog!simon, double penetration, older!price, mindbreak, (there's a lot happening),
part one (simon) | part two (simon & johnny)
bunny says: like the fic? leave a comment! really like the fic? suggest your own!
john never thought it would get to this. when he bought the farm and raised his hybrid guard dogs, he never expected to have a bunny around. let along a pregnant one.
but almost six months into your pregnancy, he had grown affectionate of you. sure you were a bit to handle sometimes, but in a way pregnancy, a roof over your head and a fully belly (in both ways) has made you softer. less of a wild animal and more of a pet.
it was cute.
the one thing that didn't change was your insatiable lust. originally price thought that two strong hybrid dogs would take care of your little bunny cunt, but not even those could stop you. let alone the heaviness of your middle.
the boys were out patrolling the yard with you safe in the house. you were curled up on simon's doggy bed with your hands on your belly and your hands situated on your belly with your head propped up on a pillow.
it was cute, john found himself almost enamored by the sight of you as he relaxed on the couch with a beer in his hand. you were just so small, the little bit of chub at your hips only made you seem cuter.
he got up from the couch and left the beer on the table as he walked toward you. he crouched down and rubbed your cheek. you leaned into his touch and whimpered a little. he chuckled and said, "good girl."
your eyes opened a little and you looked up at price, "what time is it?" your little tail did a wiggle under the over-sized shirt that you wore. he chuckled and pulled you close to him.
he fully sat down on the floor and took you into his arms, delicately. his hand grazed your middle, "not even close to lunch, the boy's are still out. it's just you and i."
you dipped your nose into the crook of his neck and you whimpered, "i feel wet."
"yeah, havin' wet dreams about simon, mama?"
"no." you said, "about you." as your hand reaches for his shirt and you held onto it. you buried your face deeper into his neck as he held you on the hardwood floor.
price's eyes went wide for a moment but then slowly got up with you in his arms. it was like holding a sack of potatoes. the most prominent part of you was the puppy was slept soundly in your belly.
"then i guess we must go to bed then. i know you love simon's bed, but my knees and back won't let me fuck you on the floor." his voice was gruff.
you giggled, "be gentle, baby's sleeping."
"of course, bunny." he replied as he brought you upstairs to his bedroom. there was a spare room for guests and an extra room for the three hybrids of his home.
but right now he was taking you to his room where he could fuck that sweet bunny cunt. it hadn't been the first time he had ever done it, but every time it was something else. a wild little hybrid now tamed and under his gentle care, the way he tamed his boys.
the bed was large and soft, he placed you down and started to work on the jeans he wore followed by the flannel of his shirt. he was hairier than simon and johnny, who had tufts here and there to show their hybrid heritage. but price was hairy that was a man was.
you wondered if a human got a hybrid pregnant then what would the baby be. because from the size of price, you were certain to have a heavy newborn. you got off your shirt and sat there naked on the bed, exposed to your farmer.
his large hands touched your belly gently, thumb grazed the stretch marks, "keepin' the little pup nice and safe, huh? bein' a good mama for me?
you nodded, "only the best for you, sir."
he reached down and rubbed your chubby little cheek, "i can see why simon trapped ya." he chuckled, "cute thing like you shouldn't be wandering the woods. that little cottontail will get into too much trouble."
he got onto the bed and man-handled you into his lap, he wanted to feel you as deep as he could. he wanted to know the inside and outside of bunny cunt. but the position he got you into was more of a wrestling move to keep you pinned against him.
you put your knees up to your head and he had your arms pinned back against him. your squirmed a little, you sort of loved the idea of being trapped. john was propped up against the oak headboard with his little pet bunny in his lap with her cunt soon full of his cock.
it was a little hard to do with such a big belly in the way, you had to squish it a little as you were moved to fit his position. you faced the door that led out of the bedroom and with a few misplaced thrusts, you moaned when price sank his cock into you.
"ah, sir!" you whimpered.
he thrusted into you and kept you in the position. it tested you physical limits but john was a strong man and you were a flexible bunny. after all you had to get through his fence somehow. but now you were all nice a plump with child.
price groaned at the idea of you pregnant with his child next. such a sweet little bunny carrying the farmer's seed made his cock throb while buried inside of you. you sweet noises were music to his ears.
"you like that, mama." he groaned, "you like when i fuck you hard?" he kissed the shell of your ear, "simon got lucky to have a taste of you first, because if it were me. if i caught you in my vegetable patch, then you'd never get the taste of my cock out of your mouth."
you kicked your legs out a little bit as he sank into your further, as deep as it would go. you could feel his cock pressed against your womb. your ears twitched and you felt soaked.
"you'd like that wouldn't you. maybe a little bit more time before you go on birth control would do you some good. see if you can take this old man's seed in your pretty, fertile cunt." he grumbled, "bunnies are known for their many babies."
you felt something churn in your stomach as your pregnant belly bounced with every hard thrust. the sex was rough, heat filled the air as you two moved together.
"i like how you look, mama. all swollen with pup. i bet it was so easy for you, took simon's seed so nicely." he purred as he held you tightly, making it slightly uncomfortable.
but you felt on cloud nine, until the bedroom door opened. and on the otherside was none other than your lover, simon. you whimpered and kicked out your legs.
simon was covered in muck, blood across the shirt he wore. he watched you as you were cock drunk and raised an eyebrows, "price." he said, "what are you doin' with my girl."
"she needed a little tlc, simon." he replied, "you know what bunnies are like. they could be having thirteen kits and still beg for another." he looked over your shoulder and asked, "what the hell did you get into."
"had to scare of a coyote." simon replied, "he could smell bunny all the way from the fence. that's how i knew you were fuckin' her."
"then get that shirt off and help me out." john replied as his pace became harder. you saw stars and your mouth hung open for a moment in pure lust.
with his shirt off and dropped to the floor, followed by, his jeans. he was soon on the bed and licking at your sweet cunt as price fucked you. you were trapped between the two men and you felt a dizziness in your mind.
this was somehow more intense than the threesome you had with johnny and simon. simon only let those in his 'pack' have a taste of his pregnant mate, which meant coyotes like graves were off limits. if simon ever saw graves' paws on you.
simon kept your legs open with his strong hands, the tips of his claws left indents in your skin as he lapped at your cunt. his tongue did touch price's cock which made the older man feel hot all over.
you were the loudest out of the three of you, your voice was high pitched and you felt so full. you squirmed against both men but they kept you still as best as they could.
you came once, then twice, the three times from the pleasure from both men. it was sensory overload. your mind went blank by the third orgasm that the men pulled from you. which left simon painfully hard.
"got any room in there, price." simon said as he pulled away from your cunt and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. his cock stood at full attention in his underwear.
"well, she'll need a good stretch if she's havin' your pup." price chuckled, he could feel himself getting closer. you on the other hand were mindlessly moaning without being able to form words.
your pussy was so wet that he slid in next to price with ease. the stretch made you whimper like an animal, but soon you were dropped back into the depths of pleasure as both men used you.
price let go of your arms but caged you with his around your middle. you felt sore, but your brain couldn't register much. your mouth hung open and drooled a little. your brain felt like it was broken in half.
"i know you can't smell it, price." simon said, "but bred bunny smells the best." his hands were on your belly and soon were price's. simon felt superior for having seeded you first.
sure his other packmates had their fun, but everything from the pup in your belly to the cotton on your tail was his. he watched your gasp for air as you tried to formulate thoughts.
his poor pregnant mate, such a beating to your pussy. but it was okay, he knew that you liked it. bunny's had a pension for a little pain.
both men, fucked you without much abandon. they ever managed to pull one last orgasm out of you which tore from your throat as you went limp against price's hairy chest. the feeling of two cocks inside of your cute little cunt was just too much.
and not wasting any seed, they flooded your poor pussy with human and hybrid seed alike. they stayed in you for a moment more before they pulled out at the same time. cum oozed out of you and simon petted your belly.
"johnny's gonna be jealous he didn't get to join." price remarked.
simon replied, "before he went out on patrol with me. he stuffed a sock in her mouth and fucked her in his bed on the floor. she's got all of our seed in her."
price held you in his arms as you twitched and moaned from the aftershocks of your activity. he watched simon kiss you before he rubbed your belly, "good mama. good little bunny, now you rest and keep growing that pup. simon and i will come back for you later."
you managed to give them a weak nod, your brain felt flat-lined but the lingering feelings of pleasure still shook you to your core <3
#bunny writes#call of duty#reader insert#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty smut#call of duty x reader#simon ghost riley#cod hybrid au#hybrid au#captain john price#captain johnathan price#captain john price smut#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley fanfiction#john price smut#john price x reader#john price cod#john price#bunny!reader#guard dog!simon#farmer!price#ghost call of duty
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Omg imagine Chuuya using his ability to ride you harder
Oh my fucking god, what writer's block?
This just blew me away for no reason at all, bro what?
Contents: Chuuya using his ability while riding you.
Warnings: Smut, top male reader, biting, marking, riding, daddy kink.
Chuuya was far from satiated.
He had been riding you for a while now, back dripping sweat as he grinded down on your cock for the nth time, breath uneven and sped up, eyes filled with tears that had not yet fallen.
His naked body was moving in a way so slutty you had to grip his waist and leave marks on his skin to remind yourself that he was real, here, and not a dream.
His dishevelled hair stuck to his sweat-covered forehead, his lips chapped and bloody from your rough kisses and his own teeth. There were bite marks all over his neck, chest, torso; you hadn't left a single inch of his pale skin untouched.
You were sitting back against the headboard of your shared bed, Chuuya in your lap as he bounced wildly on your cock, loud ah-ah-ahs echoing around the room as sounds of skin slapping skin almost drowned them out. His fingers were gripping onto your shoulders for balance, gripping so hard you knew he'd drawn blood with his blunt nails without needing to look.
But it wasn't enough, wasn't enough, just WASN'T.
Chuuya suddenly glowed black, his trembling thighs outlined by the glow that seemed to come from every inch of his skin. You felt the weight on your thighs increase suddenly, and he sunk down so low on your dick that even your balls were embedded into him.
"Fuck, Chuuya," You gasped, fingers digging even deeper into his skin as he grinded down on your cock again, using his ability to take you even further.
"Ngh!" Finally, your tip hit that spot that you could find so easily in him.
Ecstatic, he did it again, hips eager and wanting, eyes finally dripping tears. He cried out as he sped up, his movements somehow even wilder, the only thoughts in his head ways on how to chase that pleasure.
"F-fuck yeah," Chuuya gasped, jaw loose. "Ah, feels so good, [Name]!"
You hardly had the breath in you to speak, what with him going to town on your cock like it was his last day on earth, clenching so hard around your cock you saw stars.
"Such a little slut, Chuuya," You managed to say somehow. "Using your ability like this, heh, who would have thought? You like it that much?"
And he nodded in response, eyes glazed over. "Daddy's little slut. Only yours."
Your eyes widened, and then you chuckled, pulling Chuuya close and letting him bury his head into the crook of your neck as he continued assaulting your cock. You knew full well he would rather admit to being short than repeat his words once he could think again, but the moment was raw, and so you decided to push him a little more.
"Daddy's slut, huh?" You murmured into his ears, your hips rising to meet his half-way through. "Such a good slut, taking all of my cock so well. You sure know how to please daddy, don't you, Chuuya?"
He nodded, arms wrapped around you so tight it was as if he was afraid you'd leave without cumming in him.
He was trembling all over now, and even with the assistance of his ability, his movements had gotten sloppier. You knew he was close, so you reached forwards, grabbed the hair at the back of his head and pulled him into a kiss.
When he came, ropes of come shooting out of his dick, he collapsed almost immediately against your chest, panting. You kept going, thrusting up into him for your own orgasm, and he let you.
Once you'd painted his walls white, you slowed down to a stop.
Chuuya refused to get off of you, so you let him lay on you, cock still buried deep into him, even though his ability had withdrawn.
A moment passed, and you let him catch his breath.
You planted chaste kisses all over his face, making him smile softly, eyes closed. There was a big mess where you two met that you knew you had to take care of, so you carried him to the bathtub. Even when you sat down in the water, holding Chuuya in your lap, he hadn't let you pull out of him.
For a while, there was a comfortable silence.
Then, "So... Daddy, huh?"
As you burst into laughter, Chuuya smacked your shoulder weakly, ears red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.
"Fuck off," He mumbled, burying his head deeper into your shoulder.
"On a more serious note, though," Your smirk faded into a soft smile, and you peeled him off of you just enough to look him in the face. "If you're into that just tell me, hmm? I don't mind."
Your voice was so quiet, and your expression so gentle that even Chuuya couldn't bring himself to deny it. Yes, he was into it. And yes, he was very, very embarrassed about it.
So he said nothing, choosing to return to the crook of your neck instead, and you let him. It was a silent conformation, the best you could get out of him.
#dom male reader#top male reader#bungou stray dogs#dom reader#sub bsd#sub bsd x you#bsd x you#sub bungou stray dog x you#sub bungou stray dogs#sub character#sub character x you#sub chuuya x you#sub chuuya
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𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
heavily injured from a battle in the xianzhou luofu, you thought it would be the first and last time you see your stellarmate—but then you wake up in his arms, with him treating your wounds despite showing signs of disinterest in your bond when you first met.
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 soulmate au, angst, unrequited love, mentions of blood and injury descriptions, possessiveness, blade's pov, him just taking care of you with a sprinkle of angst
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 stellarmate = soulmate (inspired from stellar jade so original i know) this is actually from the blade fic that i plan on writing but this can be read as a standalone! also, if you get the ts reference in this we are automatically besties. may blade wanters be blade havers
𝐰𝐜 1.8k
soaking the dirty piece of cloth in the cold water, blade let the icy liquid gather in the fabric before lifting it out and wringing it dry until it became nothing but an improvised damp towel.
it wasn't even guaranteed that it was clean enough to be put on your forehead, since the cloth was only ripped off from your dirtied skirt. however, he had no choice but to use it in the end. your body went into a shock after losing too much blood in a battle between you and some mara-struck soldiers, resulting into a high fever.
with the moon positioned at its highest point in the night sky, blade guessed that it was already midnight, meaning that he hadn't caught a wink of sleep ever since he fled the xianzhou with your unconscious body in his arms and warped to a planet he first thought of. this was nothing new. he could stay up all night and his body wouldn't feel anything at all.
blade approached your resting figure in the small cave you were both currently residing in. observing your face for a moment, which was formed in a deep frown, he brushed away the stray hairs out of your face as carefully as he could, then placed the damp cloth on your forehead.
your fever wasn't going down throughout the evening, with your body covered in sweat and hastily wrapped bandages. your shoulders were bare since your most grave injury was a stab wound near your heart, caused by a sharp blade of a mara-struck soldier, and so he was forced to rip open the top part of your shirt to stop the bleeding.
beside your now wrapped wound was none other than your mark. your stellar mark. blade can only stare at it. even when he was placing a bandage over your wound, he didn't dare touch the area where the mark rested on your skin. until now, he was still in disbelief over the fact that the aeons gave him a counterpart, his other half. after all the torment and pain, he, of all people, was blessed with a stellarmate.
he went over to the bonfire in the middle of the cave, where he was boiling medicinal herbs with water using a bowl he made out of stone. years worth of travelling between planets made him gain knowledge of which food to eat or which plant is safe to intake. emerald-iii wasn't a foreign land to blade; he had visited the planet before twice, accompanied by kafka.
speaking of his companion, blade thought back to the xianzhou while waiting for you to wake up and for the medicine to finish cooking. she must be looking for him right now, maybe even asked silver wolf to track him down. your astral express friends might be searching for you too.
he closed his eyes. the image of you lying in your own pool of blood appeared in his mind. blood was also dripping down the side of your mouth, and your eyes were already starting to close when he found you. the pain and rage and fear he felt all over his body was nothing compared to his never-ending death. and he felt his mark burning too, wanting to seek revenge to the people who hurt what was his, wanting to kill them clean with his broken—
"b—lade?" your broken voice came out in a pained wheeze. you coughed shortly after, throat dry and parched. blade turned around and looked at you. your eyes were barely open, but he can see your confusion and distress. "you're...h-here?"
"fool. don't try to talk. you are currently in a weak state." he scolded, glowering at you with his crimson eyes narrowed in slits.
you shook your head repeatedly, slowly lifting your shivering arms and wrapping them around yourself. "i-it hurts, blade..." you complained as tears lined up your eyes, fingers brushing against your wounded shoulder, "...and it's c-cold."
blade gave you a blank stare. he didn't know what to say to you. it was the first time you talked to each other properly, and the first time you were alone together. but it seemed like you were in a state of delirium, seeing that you weren't scared of expressing yourself.
you whined while sniffing, "so cold...why is it so cold?"
he sighed in defeat and shrugged off his tailcoat, leaving him in only bandages wrapped around his torso. he scooted over to you and covered your body with his coat. "we are in emerald-iii, therefore, the weather is constantly changing. endure it while i finish the medicine."
"medicine?" you asked curiously, pulling his coat up to your face.
blade clicked his tongue in annoyance. "one more question and i will abandon you here."
you were silent for the next minutes as you patiently waited beside him. he removed the stone bowl from the fire, and saw that the water has turned a greyish green due to the medicinal herbs. to further melt down the remaining floating leaves, he gave the liquid a quick stir by moving it in a back and forth motion.
bringing it up to your lips, he commanded, "drink."
moving your head forward, you sipped from the bowl, but you immediately coughed it out. after recovering from the series of coughs, you let out, "it's bitter—!"
"you dare complain when i boiled these herbs for hours just so they become pure enough to consume." blade snapped impatiently, "do you wish to be well or not?"
you nodded quickly, not wanting to anger him any further. "okay. i'll drink it."
it took you a few more tries before you get to take all the medicine down your throat, your face scrunched in disgust by the time you finished drinking it.
without warning, blade scooped you up and placed your head against his shoulder. he started taking off your bloodied bandages, and once it was all removed, he examined the wound. he already cleaned and stitched it up hours ago, but it was still bleeding. it can't be helped. the supplies were sparse and the cut was too deep, and with your fever adding up, he was not sure if you'll survive the night.
sweat began lining up his forehead. gritting his teeth, he took a fresh batch of bandages and started to wrap them on you again.
why? why was he doing this? why was he trying to keep you alive? each time the bandage circled around your arm, blade's movements became more frustrated and quick and rough. he didn't even notice you gazing at him with a dazed expression until you chuckled softly.
blade scowled. "speak if you wish to say something."
"are you real?" you murmured weakly, your hushed voice cracking in between words, lacking the usual gentle tone yet it was still tinted with naivety and awe that it made him freeze. all the frustration and anger was washed away and was instead replaced with confusion to your question.
your eyelids kept drooping down, not allowing him to see the beautiful shade of your warm eyes that reminded him of the brightest stars of the xianzhou sky. it was fine; as long as he gets to hold you like this, your head against his shoulder, your bare skin against his with the moonlight shining over you, then everything was fine.
feeling his heart skid to a stop for a thousandth time that night, blade can't help but to slowly reach out, and although his bandaged hand hesitated to land on your skin, afraid it might tint your innocence with his sins, he allowed himself to caress your cheek. it did not surprise him at all when your face fit perfectly in the palm of his wounded hand, your warmth proceeding to seep through his thin and bloodied bandages. a stray tear suddenly fell down your smooth skin, and this time, he didn't hesitate to wipe it off with his thumb.
"what do you mean?" he whispered, leaning in closer to you. you didn't answer for a minute, your breathing growing heavy.
then you laughed. "i don't know," you said, "i feel like i just made you up."
more tears escaped from your eyes as you continued, "you wouldn't...boil some strange herbs for me, or wrap me up in your coat. or treat my wounds, or even talk to me. you wouldn't want to be near me. you wouldn't do that."
"i have no time for your nonsense." blade replied with the intention of sounding harsh, but it came out weak instead. you smiled at him tearily, placing your hand on top of his.
"we are going to be unbound soon." you assured him, and blade swore his stellarmark was stung the second you said those words, "and as soon as i get well, i will immediately seek the aeons and get our marks removed. then you wouldn't have to see me ever again."
he swallowed, speechless for the first time. unbeknownst to him, he was slowly pulling you closer to his chest, his fingers digging into your skin in an attempt to keep you all to himself. his breathing grew uneven as he thought of you walking away from him, forgetting him, not thinking of him, and you belonging to someone else that wasn't him. his heartbeat grew irregular at the thought of not seeing you again.
blade had the sudden urge to cover up his mark and protect it from the world. it was his. it was his and his alone, and no one was going to take it away from him. not even the aeons.
"but do you want to know a secret?" you continued quietly, your smile growing wide, "if the aeons would give me a chance to pick a stellarmate again, i would choose you."
yes. he was going to keep this mark. and he was going to keep you. ever single person who will lay their hand on your skin will meet the sharpness of his sword, and every single one who will stand in between your bond shall face his wrath.
"i would you choose you, again, and again, and again, until you want me back. until you love me back."
the second you wake up from your delirious state, he'll tell you of his new plans, and he imagined you in disbelief, surprised and hesitant and hopeless but you'll nod and you'll take his hand, and you'll run, run, run, and leave it all behind.
"oh, look at the moon," you exclaimed, pointing a finger to the crescent shaped light, and he ignored the way your breaths were growing shallow each time you talk, "look at the moon, blade. it's so pretty. the moon is so pretty."
blade pulled you closer to his chest and rested his chin on top of your head as a sinister grin started to grow on his lips, along with an unfamiliar flame beginning to ignite in his amber crimson eyes. you were his. you were his.
and not even elio can change that.
#blade x reader#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#blade hsr#blade honkai star rail#honkai star rail blade#hsr blade#hsr x y/n#hsr x reader#hsr x you#hsr#honkai star rail x you#honkai star rail blade x reader#honkai star rail imagines#hsr blade x reader#hsr blade x you#angst#honkai star rail angst#ਏਓ ladadiida
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saying somethin' stupid like 'i love you'
fwb!gojo saying the forbidden L word during the deed ????
slightly nsfw, minors please don't interact. also fluff bc i miss gojo :(
not proof read !
thankyou so much for all the support on my recent ♡
satoru thinks you're so cruel. one minute you're holding onto him, nails digging into his back as if you needed him to live.
chanting his name so so beautifully as he trapped you between his bare body and the bed, relentlessly thrusting into you.
and then the next you were back to acting like even his mere existence irritated you. in a way it does but not in the way he thinks.
not once had you been there the morning after. only the crumpled sheets and your nail marks served as reminders that you were here, with him.
“gojo can you not-”
“that wasn't what you called me last night. what happened to toru?”
you glare daggers at him as one of his hand held your notebook high up. he was ridiculously tall and he liked abusing that privilege. especially against you.
“shut up” you walk past him without bothering to take your book.
“hey you mad baby?” he chuckled, getting in front of you, stopping you again.
“come on, answer me. why'd you leave? i thought we agreed to go to class together hmm?”
you roll your eyes at him and crossed your arms.
“that's what you said. i didn't agree.”
“aw you're too mean” he pouted as you scowl and try passing him again only to be stopped by his hand on your arm.
“i wanted you to stay.” his words were heavy, his face not showing even the slightest bit of his shit eating grin he always has on.
he turns to you, his round sunglasses were low on his nose and you could see his oh so beautiful eyes.
you look away because if you don't, you were pretty sure you'd be hypnotised and you'd do whatever he wanted.
“if you keep doing this i won't stay over anymore.” your words shot a painful jab at your own abdomen. his grip around you loosened slowly until he lets go completely.
“alright then.” he hands you your notebook, more like placed them into your arms as he walked away, eyes never meeting yours.
the next ‘sleepover’ took place three days after the banter with satoru. he hadn't called or texted the whole time but when you asked if he was up for it, he replied almost immediately.
so here you were again, him ramming into you as you cling onto his bare body for dear life. you could feel your climax coming as your grip grew tighter and tighter.
satoru was the same, chasing his high. he had missed you a lot the past three days but tried distancing himself just so his feelings for you would simmer down.
it only resulted him thinking about you all day and even more during the night. he finds himself wishing you were here with him, either giving you the pleasure you both agreed upon or just you laying down next to him. he didn't care.
he just wanted you to be there. with him.
and now that you are, his heart clenches the way you clench around him as the both of you cummed simultaneously.
he holds your body tight as you both work your way through the orgasm, euphoria rushing through both your veins.
“fuck y/n…” he groaned as he felt your grip loosen. he can't let you go just yet.
“i love you”
he hadn't meant to say it really. not like this at least.
“satoru we've been through this-” you push him weakly but he stays grounded, eyes boring into yours.
“i mean it.” he says, one of his hands found themselves caressing your cheeks as the other supported him while he hovered above you.
“you don't have to say it back or… feel it back…” satoru's voice was full of emotion.
“but just give me a chance to show you how much i love you. then we can work things out from there.”
you find yourself falling into the charms of gojo satoru. it's not everyday he offers his heart to someone. he doesn't offer it at all but now here he is, handing it to you on a silver platter.
“alright”
you could see satoru's face visibly light up and his blue eyes gleammed. he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips.
“thankyou” he traced his fingers on your jaw, his touch so soft, so addicting.
“you better treat me like a princess” you chuckle as he physically melted at the sound.
“oh i plan to do exactly that, and more, lovely.” he leaned down to place another kiss on your lips.
#jjk smut#jujutsu satoru#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk fic#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#gojo smut#gojo x reader#jjk angst#satorugojo#gojou satoru x reader#jjk satoru#jjk drabbles#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu geto#nanami kento#geto suguru#gojo x y/n#gojo x you#satoru x you#satoru x reader#satoru smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x y/n
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I'm an Idiot
Pairing: Luke Castellan x fem!reader
Summary: Luke has a dream about about his best friend y/n that leads to him ignoring her so she doesn't find out his true feelings
Warnings: angst, Luke being an idiot, smut 18+ only please, language, it's a LONG one but it's so worth it I promise
"Shit, Luke," y/n moaned out, her soft breathes fanning against Luke's scarred cheek, "right there."
Luke thrusted himself deeper, groaning out at the sensation and burying his face in the crook of her neck. "God's, y/n, you're so fucking tight."
Luke pushed in slowly once more, burying himself to the hilt. He was going painfully, torturously slow. Luke wanted nothing more than to fuck her senseless until all she could do was scream his name, but not if it meant hurting her so he held himself back from driving into her full force and taking her like he so desperately wanted to.
Y/n knew what he was doing and responded by wrapping her legs around his hips, pulling him in deeper. They gasped simultaneously at the new angle.
"Don't-", he stuttered, "Don't do that." He held her hips down to prevent her from moving again, gripping it so tightly he was sure it would leave a mark and the thought sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. He panted against her sweaty collarbone as he tried to regain his composure.
"You don't like it?" She whispered in his ear seductively, raising her hips up to meet his.
Of course he liked it. He fucking loved it, but it was testing the restraint that he was already in a losing battle with. If she continued to pull him in deeper like that he was sure to snap. Luke could feel her clenching around his cock and fuck it made him want more.
When he didn't answer, y/n leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Stop holding back, Luke. I want you to fuck me."
With a sly smirk, Luke pulled out of her before-
Luke startled slightly as his eyes opened to the early morning sun that filtered through the windows of the cabin. He could hear the birds chirping outside and the slight footfall of other campers making their way to breakfast.
He sighed in frustration and rubbed a hand down his face, only to freeze when he felt a body stirring against him. He slowly lowered his hand, his brown eyes falling to Y/n's sleeping form next to him. She was fully clothed with her back to him as her shoulders rose and fell with each even breath she took.
Luke had one arm wrapped around her waist while the other was trapped beneath her head. Her hair falling over his arm and onto her pillow in a perfect halo. For the daughter of Hades, she sure looked angelic in this moment.
He realized he must have fallen asleep during one of their late-night talks, given that he had woken up in her cabin rather than his own. Luke was honestly thankful for her company. His sleep was typically plagued by never-ending nightmares, but never when he slept with her tucked into his chest.
Noticing that she was still sound asleep, Luke decided to relax and enjoy a few more moments of rest before he would inevitably have to wake her for breakfast and break them out of their comfortable bubble. He closed his eyes and pulled her body closer to his, tucking his face into her hair that smelled faintly of her jasmine and coconut shampoo.
Unconsciously, Y/n snuggled back against him, pressing her body back against his. Her round ass pushed against the bulge in his pants that he hadn't realized had been rapidly growing since he woke from his dream. Luke grunted at the contact and swore under his breath quietly. Nightmares may not be a problem when sleeping with y/n, but for the last few months other dreams had started to become a bit of an issue.
Luke had had a crush on her since the first day she walked into camp four years prior, something Clarisse and Chris never hesitated to poke fun at him about. How could he not? She was gorgeous, funny, and fiercely protective of those she loved.
The two of them had always had a flirty sort of banter that probably went beyond the bounds of friendship, but he never really made a move, of course, fearing his feelings wouldn't be reciprocated and valuing their friendship too much to jeopardize it.
Just like he was about to if she woke up and felt his hard on nestled between her perfect thighs.
It was probably a dick move to leave before she woke up, but Luke would have to come up with an excuse later because there was no way he was going to be able to conceal what the dream of her panting and writhing beneath him had caused.
Ever so carefully, Luke shifted his weight toward the edge of the bed and slowly began to pull his arm out from under her head, freezing when she stirred in her sleep. He swore quietly under his breath and waited until she stopped moving before pulling his arm away from her completely.
He tiptoed his way to the door, the old hardwood floor groaning slightly beneath his weight as he walked. Luke reached the door and turned to take one last look at her sleeping form that was now nestled against the pillow beneath her head, soft snores emitting from her pink lips. He smiled to himself and closed the door quietly, bounding through the camp on his way to take a very cold shower to relieve him of his 'little' problem.
The sound of her front door clicking into place made Y/N stir against her black silk sheets before she woke entirely, noting the now empty bed beside her. She furrowed her brows as she sat up, noticing that Luke's shoes were gone and so was he.
It confused her, to say the least. Luke had never been one to sneak away before she had woken up, usually opting to wake her with whispers that sent tingles down her spine and butterflies to her belly.
Luke had been acting strangely the last few months, but he never hesitated to crawl into bed with her when she complained of insomnia or nightmares. Having him around while she slept had eased what normally plagued her, and she knew it did the same for him. She shrugged lightly to herself, figuring that he had camp counselor duties to attend to, and she would catch up with him later. Still, disappointment settled in her chest at not being able to wake up with his body wrapped around hers.
Y/n was a camp counselor herself, but since she was the only current daughter of Hades, she was more or less in charge of only herself when she wasn't training the younger campers. She rose from bed, tidying the cabin around her before throwing on a pair of spandex shorts and her Camp Half-Blood shirt to get ready for her daily training sessions after breakfast.
She made her way down to the pavilion by herself, basking in the warmth that spread over her tanned skin where the early morning sun broke through the trees. She could hear the rumble of conversation from the other campers who were already sat for breakfast as she drew closer.
Y/n made her way through the breakfast line, her eyes scanning the area for a familiar mop of dark curls as she piled strawberries and pancakes onto her plate. She turned to make her way to her usual spot, noting that Luke hadn't yet made an appearance there, which was odd since he had obviously left before her.
Y/n took her usual seat next to Clarisse, saving the spot to her left for Luke whenever he decided to show, with Chris, Travis, and Connor sitting opposite her.
"Hey," Chris greeted her around his mouth full of pancakes.
"Hey," she replied distractedly, her eyes still scanning the pavilion.
"Who are you looking for?" Clarisse asked, noting her odd behavior and trying to follow her wandering eyes.
"Luke, of course," Travis said with a smirk.
"Who else?" Connor added with a smirk identical to his twin brother's.
Y/n's face flushed a light shade of pink as she resigned herself to pushing the food around on her plate with her fork. She knew that her crush on her best friend was painfully obvious to everyone—well, except for the one person who truly mattered. It wasn't like she really tried to hide it, always saving him a seat on her left at meals and choosing Luke as her sparring partner or simply cuddling up next to him by their nightly campfires.
She was hopelessly in love with her dark-haired best friend, but she never attempted to make a move, fearing rejection or, worse yet, jeopardizing their friendship. Still, Y/N couldn't help but blush when he would wrap his arm around her innocently and tuck her into his side or become flustered when she caught a glimpse of his well-defined abs when he would lift his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow during sparring sessions. Needless to say, she had it bad.
"Hey guys," Percy greeted the small group of friends as he sat to Y/n's left, leaving an empty space for Luke. Annabeth took her seat across from him. "Where's Luke?"
All eyes at the table turned toward her, and she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "How would I know?" She speared a strawberry on her plate with a bit more force than necessary.
"Oh, I don't know," Chris shrugged his shoulders sarcastically. "Maybe it's because he spends more time in your bed than in his own these days." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, earning a smack to the head from Clarisse and a glare from Y/n.
"Speaking of the lover boy," Connor says, his eyes falling to Luke as he makes his way through the breakfast line.
Y/n tries her best to act nonchalant, fighting the urge to turn and look at him. Instead, she resigns herself to pushing the strawberries around on her plate.
When Luke finally makes his way to their usual table, he pauses, noting the empty spot left for him next to Y/N. He battles with himself silently as his feet carry him closer. He wants to sit next to her more than anything, but just the thought of her leg accidentally brushing his under the table causes his dick to twitch in his cargo pants. There was no way he would be able to hide a boner with this many people around. Normally, he had a bit more self control, but thay dream had really done him in.
He had been fortunate enough not to encounter any other campers on his way to the showers this morning to relieve himself. His hand had been wrapped around his length, stroking himself in a fast rhythm as he imagined y/n lips wrapped around him, quietly moaning out her name as he came in his fist.
Luke quietly groaned to himself as he rounded the table, feeling y/n's piercing eyes on him as he took a seat between Connor and Chris. Everyone at the table froze, forks hovering midair in confusion and disbelief at the strange behavior. Luke didn't even pay them any mind, trying his hardest to avoid your gaze that had sparked with what looked like disappointment, fearing that if he started blushing he would never stop.
"Okay," Clarisse said, drawing out the word and breaking the silence that had fallen over the group. "Cabin Twelve is throwing a party on Friday. Are you guys in?"
"We're always in," the Stoll twins spoke in unison. Y/n thought it was funny when they did it, but Luke always found it disturbing and creepy.
Luke was barely listening to his friends’ discussion as he pushed the food around on his plate. He was trying to avoid looking up, knowing that Y/N was across from him, trying to meet his gaze. He knew she had given up when she let out an almost inaudible sigh, and he suddenly felt guilty. He hated ignoring her, but it physically pained him not to hold her and draw her in for a kiss when she pouted her perfect pink lips at him. It was as if Aphrodite herself was trying to punish him.
"I don't know," Travis shrugged his shoulders, taking a sip from his cup. "I'll probably ask Silena to go with me. What about you?" He looked over at his half-brother, who was still staring down at his untouched food. "Luke?"
"Hmm?" He hummed, breaking out of his thoughts and looking up from his plate for the first time since he sat down.
"Are you bringing anyone to the party?" Travis asked again.
"Oh, um," Luke was at a loss for words. There was only one person he truly wanted to ask, but he knew she wouldn't see it as anything more than friendly. They had attended parties together in the past, but it seemed inappropriate to him now that he had come to the realization that he was in love with Y/N. "I don't really know. I haven't thought about it."
Connor, being Connor, decided to stir the pot a bit. He opened his mouth to say, "What about Laura from Cabin Ten? She has a pretty massive crush on you."
Luke shrugged and finally took a bite of his breakfast, not noticing the way y/n's eyes watched him anxiously. "Yeah, I guess so," he replied, a bit distractedly. It would seem weird if he didn't take anyone, but he couldn't take y/n without torturing himself to the brink of insanity. He still couldn't shake the image of her beneath him or the faint sounds of her breathy moans that echoed in his mind.
Y/n had decided that she had had enough. She slammed her silverware onto her plate, swiping it up, and marched her way over to the fire pit. She threw her offerings into the flames and made her way to her first activity of the day. Tears stung her eyes, and jealousy clawed at her chest as she marched past the table where her friends all sat, looking slightly concerned at her sudden outburst.
Luke's eyes trailed after her, watching her back until she disappeared over the hill. He sighed to himself and ran a hand through his curls. He had thought that if he kept a bit of distance his body and mind would relax a little but he was more tense than ever.
Clarisse kicked him under the table causing him to wince and rub at his now sore shin. "What the hell has gotten into you?" She shouted at him.
"Ouch, what are you talking about?" Luke glared at her as he continued to rub his sore leg.
"I'm talking about y/n," Clarisse said, her brows raising as if what she was getting at was obvious. It was, but Luke didn't want to admit what he was doing was stupid.
"What about her?"
It was Chris's turn to chime in. He turned to his half brother and said, "Since when don't you sit next to her at breakfast, and since when don't you two go to bonfires together?"
Luke groaned in irritation, his face growing hot. The last thing he wanted was for them to pry and find out the real reason he was ignoring his best friend. It was embarrassing the way he was dreaming about her, and jerking off to the thought of it like a fifteen year old who just discovered women exist.
"My world doesn't revolve around y/n." He grumbled.
Percy snorted from his spot across the table. "That's bullshit."
"Language!" Luke, Annabeth, and Clarisse all chastised him at once.
Clarisse turned away from the son of Poseidon and back to Luke. "He's right, though. You two are always flirting with each other, and it's painfully obvious. Do us all a favor and put us out of our misery. This tiptoeing around each other is disgusting."
"What Clar means to say," Chris said, shooting a look at the curly-haired girl who merely shrugged, "is why are you avoiding her? We all know you like her, so why are you holding back?"
"Because he's a chicken shit." Percy chimed in with a smirk.
"PERCY!" They all yelled and the blonde rolled his eyes.
"Oh, come on! I'm thirteen, for crying out loud!" he yelled back, slamming his hands on the table. They all ignored him and went back to their conversation at hand once more.
"All we're saying," Chris said, gathering his plate of offerings and standing up, "is that you two have been riding this line between something and nothing for too long. Man up and ask her to the party." And with that, he threw his offerings into the fire and walked off toward the rock wall.
Sparring practice was a bit more tense than usual that day, and it was obvious to everyone around them. When they had all chosen their partners, Y/n had been quick to ask James from Cabin Ten before Luke could even take a step in her direction. It caused a stir among the other campers who witnessed the out-of-character behavior, leading them all to wonder what had happened between the two counselors.
Usually, she would make her way to his side, joking about trying her best not to mess up his 'pretty face', but today she wasn't really in the mood to joke and be ignored by her best friend.
Luke sat frozen for a few seconds, utterly shocked that she had chosen someone over him. He guessed he deserved it for the way he had acted at breakfast, but it still stung knowing that she was angry with him. So, instead of standing there looking like an idiot, he grabbed Percy by the back of his shirt, pulling him away from where he was attempting to flirt with Annabeth. He left her to pair up with one of her siblings as he dragged Percy to a spot where he had a clear view of Y/n.
They began to spar, and while Luke was the best swordsman the camp had seen in over three hundred years, his head wasn't in it today. Percy disarmed him repeatedly while his eyes wandered over to Y/N. She was currently grabbing a drink of water while James stood at her side, whispering something that made her throw her head back and laugh.
She pulled at the hem of her orange tee, lifting it up to wipe the sweat from her face. Luke's grip tightened on his sword when he saw James's eyes lingering over the tattoo on her right hip. He made to step forward when Percy's hand on his arm made him freeze and look back at the younger boy.
"I don't think that's a good idea. She already seems kind of irritated with you," Percy warned.
Luke scoffed, shaking his head, and walked over to where she was smiling with her hand placed gently on James's bicep. The sight made his blood boil, and he had the overwhelming urge to rip the boy's arm off.
"Hey," Luke said, directing all his attention to his best friend, who, at the moment, wouldn't even glance his way. "Can we talk?" When she continued to ignore him, he lowered his voice more and whispered, "Please?"
Y/n couldn't help herself; she lifted her gaze to his and nearly caved when she saw the pleading look in his eyes. But then she remembered how he had snuck out of her cabin that morning and proceeded to ignore her throughout breakfast. Y/n folded her arms over her chest and put on her best poker face.
"I'm a little busy right now."
"Oh, really?" Luke asked in a patronizing tone, crossing his own arms over his chest. Y/n had to try her best not to glance down at his bulging muscles. "Busy doing what, exactly?"
"Well, if you really want to know," she stepped closer to the blonde on her right, "I was just about to accept James's invitation to the party Friday night."
That was a total lie. Y/n had actually been about to turn the boy down and state that she probably just wouldn't go, but she figured if Luke could go with a date, then so could she. Maybe it would help her let go of her crush on Luke once and for all. She knew she deserved better than waiting around for the boy to come to his senses.
Luke scoffed, his face scrunching up with the action. "You're kidding me, right?"
This made Y/n angry. Luke had no right to be upset over her accepting a date to a party he didn't even want to attend with her.
"So what?" She took an angry step toward the curly-haired boy. "You can talk about asking Laura to the bonfire, but when I accept an offer from someone who's genuinely interested in me—"
Luke interrupted her. "You seriously think this guy," he gestured to James, "is seriously into you? Have you forgotten that he and his siblings sleep with people and then dump them just for entertainment?"
James stepped forward, trying to put himself between Luke and Y/n, something that irked the girl to her core. She didn't need anyone to defend her. "Hey, woah. You don't know shit about me, man, and you don't get to talk to her like that."
Luke's features darkened as he narrowed his eyes at the boy who was just a few inches shorter than him. "Back the fuck up and mind your business. She doesn't need you to be her knight in shining armor."
They were nose-to-nose now, exhibiting the typical dick-measuring contest, and Y/n had had enough. She pushed her way between the feuding boys (yes, boys), placing a hand on each of their chests. While James looked down at her with a smug grin, Luke refused to tear his gaze from the blonde, wanting nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face.
Y/n tried to meet Luke's gaze, but he wasn't backing down. With a heavy sigh, she let her hand drop from his strong chest and backed away, though it physically ached to do so.
"Let's just go, James." And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away, with James right behind her. Subtly, he flipped Luke off behind his back.
The days leading up to Friday were awkward and tense for Luke, Y/N, and the friends who surrounded them. In the mornings, when Luke arrived for breakfast, Y/N would suddenly be in a rush to get to her lessons. At night, she would lock the windows and doors of her cabin, pretending not to hear Luke knocking and pleading with her to let him in and talk.
By the time Friday rolled around, Luke was absolutely miserable without his best friend, and he was kicking himself for being so stupid. He wouldn't have had any reason to be jealous if he had just come right out and told Y/N that he was in love with her the very day he had realized it himself.
Now, here he was, looking like an absolute idiot, all alone, leaning against a tree with a drink in his hand as he watched his best friend snuggle up next to James by the fire. She was laughing and smiling as he spoke, but never quite like she did when she was with him. Every once in a while, her eyes would catch Luke's, and it made his heart skip a beat in his chest until she would quickly avert her gaze and give her full attention to her date for the night.
"Where's your date?" A voice spoke from his right and he pulled his eyes away from Y/n to see Laura batting her eyelashes up at him.
Luke shrugged and took a long pull from his cup, the liquor burning his throat a bit on the way down. "Didn't bring one."
"That's odd since I overheard that you were going to ask me." Laura licked her pink-painted lips and smiled, placing a hand on his chest. "I was waiting for you to ask, but-"
Luke's attention was pulled away as his eyes landed on Y/n, who was walking away from the party and back toward the cabins. He didn't even give an explanation or say goodbye to the Aphrodite girl as he pushed past her to follow his best friend. He was almost certain he heard her call him an asshole but he really didn't care.
Luke followed behind Y/n all the way to the cabins, unsure if she was aware of his presence. He figured she probably did, since she had the instincts of a goddamn wildcat, but was probably still just ignoring him.
He was a few yards away when he watched her reach her cabin and go inside, and he didn't hesitate to walk up the front steps and knock. Now that everyone was at the party, he could possibly get her to talk to him without an audience.
Nerves settled in his chest as he raised his fist and rapped it against the dark wooden door, waiting on the edge of his figurative seat for her to open the door and face him. Luke listened closely to the shuffling on the other side of the door before he heard a sigh and then the click of a lock. For a moment, he thought that she had locked him out and turned with a heavy heart to make his way back to the Hermes cabin to wallow in his self-pity until her soft voice reached out to him.
"What do you want, Luke?" She sighed heavily as she stood in the doorway, the door partially blocking her chest.
By the way she was attempting to cover her chest, and the way Luke could see her bare shoulder and the strap of her bra, he guessed that she had been in the process of undressing and getting ready for bed. He was trying, and failing, not to let his eyes wander as he made his way back up to her door.
"Can we talk?" Luke asked quietly, his voice and eyes pleading with her to say yes.
She hesitated for a moment before nodding and opening the door for him to step through. He let his eyes wander over the expanse of the cabin that he had seen a million times before in an attempt to give her some semblance of privacy while she found something with which to cover up.
It wasn't until she cleared her throat from behind him that he turned, and his heart stopped in his chest. She stood there with her arms crossed and shoulders tense, now covered in a soft gray sweatshirt. His sweatshirt. She still wore the black jean skirt that she had been wearing at the party, and he saw her top and bra discarded on her dresser, meaning that she was completely bare underneath his sweatshirt. Luke felt his dick twitch in his pants and had to shake the thought from his mind before things got out of hand.
He took a shaky breath and ran a hand through his dark curls before he spoke. "Listen, y/n/n, I'm really sorry about being a complete dick the last few days and for ignoring you. I was just going through some stuff and I didn't want to upset you or lose you as a friend so I thought if I ignored you until I could figure out how to get over it, things would be better."
Y/n didn't say anything as she waited for him to continue.
"It turns out," he took a deep breath, "I can't get over it, and I don't think I want to."
"What are you talking about?" She took a few steps until the distance between them closed, and she cupped his face in her soft hands, forcing him to look at her. "Why would you even think you could lose me as a friend?" Her eyes darted between his, but his were focused solely on her lips.
"Because I don't want to be just friends with you," Luke whispered before he closed the distance between them, his lips grazing hers. "Tell me to stop."
Y/n shook her head and tangled her fingers in his dark curls. "I can't," she said. And then she pulled his lips down to crash against her own.
Luke reacted immediately, his hands falling to her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss was messy and uncoordinated, all teeth and tongues as they finally let themselves feel everything they had been holding back. When Luke swept his tongue along her lips, she moaned into his mouth and tugged his curls, eliciting a deep groan from Luke. Eventually, the two ran out of breath and had to pull back, their chests heaving from the lack of oxygen.
"Is this why you've been ignoring me?" she asked against his lips, wanting to taste his mouth on hers again, but not before she got her answer.
Luke smirked and shrugged. "Well, that and I've been having some pretty intense dreams."
Y/n pulled back, brows raised, and Luke's heart dropped for half a second before she smiled up at him through her long lashes. "About?"
Luke tightened his grip on her hips and dragged her closer and she gasped at the feeling of his hard length pressed against her hip. "Mind if I just show you?"
When she nodded, Luke didn't waist a second hoisting her up, her legs instantly snapping around his waist and his hands falling lower to cup her ass. He carried her to her bed, laying her down before kissing her with a bit more coordination than before. He slotted himself between her open thighs, rutting into her gently causing a breathy moan to fall from her perfect lips.
Y/n didn't waste any time ridding him of his shirt, throwing it down to the floor and allowed her hands and eyes to wander down the expanse of his toned chest and abdomen. It wasn't like she had never seen Luke shirtless before, having patched him up more times than she could count, but this seemed more personal like he was willing to let her see and have every part of him.
Luke's own hands wandered up the front of her sweatshirt that she had stolen from him so many months ago, travelling higher and higher until his hand came into contact with her bare breast. He took it in his hand, kneading and squeezing before rolling her soft nipple into a firm peak.
Y/n smirked and dropped her hands to pull the material over her head, growing more confident than ever as she watch Luke swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion. She leaned up ever so slightly and placed a soft kiss against his throat, causing him to groan and drop his head down to lay between her breasts, his soft curls tickling her sternum.
"The feeling is mutual." She whispered into the air between them, kicking herself for not coming up with anything better to say.
Luke lifted his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "'The feeling is mutual'? That's all?"
Y/n rolled her eyes and lifted her hips to push her core against the bulge straining in his pants. "Shut up and fuck me."
"Yes, ma'am." He smirked against her lips before dragging his body off the bed and standing at the edge.
Y/n looked confused before Luke quickly shed his pants, leaving him in just his black boxers, before he grabbed her under her thighs and pulled her to the edge of the bed. He kneeled on the floor, ridding her of her skirt and panties in one fluid motion. He nearly let out a moan at the sight of her glistening cunt and used two fingers to swipe through her folds.
"Did I do this?" Luke asked with a smug grin. When she didn't answer, he slapping her ass, making her jolt and throw her head back with a moan. So she likes it rough? Noted. "I asked you a question."
"Yes." She answered breathlessly, her fingers tangling in the sheets with anticipation.
Luke didn't say another word before he brought his tongue down to her weeping cunt and licked a stripe all the way up to her clit with a flat tongue. Luke groaned at the taste before diving back in for more. She tasted so sweet and heavenly and Luke was absolutely certain the next time he had ambrosia, it would taste like her.
Y/n's moans filled the empty air as Luke devoured her like a man starved, dipping his tongue into her hole before moving higher to suck harshly on her swollen clit. Luke moved one of his hands from her thighs to push two fingers into her, noting how tightly she squeezed his fingers. He curled them upwards ever so slightly, feeling her hands fly to his hair instantly and tug harshly. He moaned around her clit, sending vibrations throughout her whole body.
"Shit," y/n moaned as her back arched off the mattress, "Luke, I'm so close."
Luke pulled away from her, fingers still working in and out of her, bringing her closer to the edge by the second. "Let go, baby. Cum for me."
Between his tongue, his fingers, and the fact he had called her baby, y/n let herself go, cumming with Luke's name tumbling from her kiss-bitten lips over and over again. Luke continued to lap at her, enjoying the sweet and tangy taste of her release on his tongue, until she was squirming and all but pushing him away from the overstimulation.
He got the message and sat back on his heels, enjoying the sight of her post-orgasm, hands still fisting the sheets as she watched him lick his fingers clean. He moaned around the digits, teasing her until she physically couldn't take it anymore.
Y/n sat up and grabbed hold of his camp necklace, pulling him to lay between her open legs once more before smashing her lips to his, tasting herself on his tongue. Luke smiled into the kiss when she bit down on his bottom lip and tugged.
"I want you," she spoke against him breathlessly, "to fuck me."
Luke pulled back, placing his hands on either side of her head to support himself. "Who taught you patience?" He joked, but groaned when her hand snaked down to palm him over his boxers.
Luke got the message and decided that he was done teasing her, for now. He shed his boxers quickly and quickly aligned himself with her dripping cunt. He rubbed his tip through her folds, collecting her arousal before looking up at her, searching for any signs of hesitation.
He got his answer when y/n smiled up at him softly and pulled his forehead down to rest against hers. She angled her hips up and his tip slipped in, elicting a moan from the both of them. Luke moved slowly, pushing in deeper, inch by agonizing inch. His breath caught in his throat and his mouth hung open when he was fully seated within her.
"Are you okay?" Luke asked softly.
Y/n nodded and rolled her hips against his, letting him know it was okay to move. Luke captured her lips with his before pulling out and thrusting back into her.
"F-fuck." He groaned against her mouth, thrusting into her again. "You're so fucking tight." He trailed his lips down her jaw, leaving kisses all the way down her neck until he reached the soft spot just behind her ear. He bit down on the soft skin there.
He was going torturously slow and while she loved that he was being so sweet and gentle, there would be time for that later. Right now she just wanted him to take her and fuck her into oblivion. This had been a long time coming and she was done with the soft, hesitant actions.
"Luke." She whimpered against his ear, her breath sending shivers down his spine.
"Hmm?" He groaned, too consumed by the feeling of her heat sucking him in.
"Fuck me harder."
Luke pulled back, not sure he had heard her correctly. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. "What?"
Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist and spoke again. "Fuck. Me. Harder."
Luke didn't need to be told a third time once he was sure he wasn't imagining things. He grabbed her thigh and lifted it higher before driving into her. They both groaned at the new, deeper angle, sweaty chests heaving as they grew accustomed to the overwhelming sensation.
He set a new, harsher, faster pace, grinding his hips into hers to add to her pleasure. Y/n finally got what she wanted as he pounded into her already sensitive cunt. She bit her lip to try and contain her moans and Luke wasn't having it. On the off chance this was a one time thing, he wanted to hear just how good he was making her feel.
Luke pulled her lip from between her teeth, kissing her softly before saying, "Let me hear you. I want everyone in the whole camp to know how good I make you feel, that I'm the only one who can make you feel this good."
He pulled out and angled a particularly harsh thrust into her caused her to moan without a care for anyone that happened to pass by her cabin.
"Fuck, Luke, feels s-so good."
"That's it, baby, let them know who you belong to."
Y/n clenched around him and Luke could feel himself growing closer to the edge, but he would be damned if he didn't bring her to a second orgasm before he let himself go. He leaned back just enough to reach a hand between them, using his two middle fingers to rub at her bundle of nerves.
"Shit, just like that. I'm so close."
Luke would do just about anything to hear y/n praise him like that for the rest of his life. He could die tomorrow and he would be at peace with it now that he had heard the way his name sounded tumbling from his lips and the way her body reacted to his.
"Oh gods, I'm gonna—" with a hoarse cry, y/n reached her peak, clenching around Luke as her nails scratched at his back. She had probably drawn blood, but neither of them could find it in them to care at the moment.
Luke worked her through her orgasm, picking up his own pace as he chased his own high. With a few more calculated thrusts, Luke came with a low groan, biting down on the juncture between her shoulder and neck as he spilled inside her.
With a heavy sigh, Luke rolled off of her, reaching his arms out to pull her sweat soaked body into his. Y/n nuzzled her face into his neck and tangled her legs with his, breathing out a sigh of contentment.
Neither of them said a word until Luke finally caught his breath and asked, "So the feeling is mutual, huh?"
Luke's grin only grew when she slapped him on the chest. "Shut up."
"So if the feeling is so mutual," she glared at him, and he chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender. "Then why did you go to the party with James?"
Y/n sighed. "Well, my best friend, whom I really wanted to go with, was being a total dick."
Luke looked down at her apologetically. "So why didn't you tell him then?" he whispered.
"Because I've been in love with him since we were sixteen, but I didn't want to throw away our friendship in case he didnt like me back." She whispered back, finally laying it all out in the open.
"You know what I think?"
Y/n bit her lip nervously. "What do you think?"
Luke tilted her chin up to look at him, bringing his lips closer to hers as he said, "I think I'm an absolute moron for ever making you think that I don't love you the same way."
#luke castellan#percy jackon and the olympians#luke castellan smut#smut#demigods#x reader#luke x reader#fanfic#imagines
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i fucking love ur writing sm mamas!
anyway. Toji making reader pregnant cause toji found out that reader loves kids <33333
It’s fine if you don’t want to. Anyway love you and your writing darling . 🎐
No, noonie, stop bc like, are you in my brain or smthn!!?? I was thinking about this exact prompt for a long while, and I see this appear in my inbox??! Well, well, *cracks knuckles* you've just given me the perfect opportunity mwahahahaha!!! This has been in my drafts for a minute, but I'm glad it's finally done! And omg tysm for loving me and my stuff, honey!! Hope I make ya proud with this one :') ilysm ♡
Also, I'm mixing in another request into this one since it's a pretty small request (reader sucking on Toji's Adam's apple as he pounds you), plus it makes things easier for me in terms of writing out stuff. Hope that's okay with the other requester; if not, my apologies!ヾ(｡﹏｡)ﾉﾞAnd btw, tysm for 1.6k followers, y'all!! Love every single one of you~☆
Cw: Toji x fem! reader - explicit content, so minors DNI - mating press - Daddy kink - fingering (f! receiving) - breeding - unprotected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up!!) - reader skips the pill - fluff at the end bc why not - pregnancy (test at the end) - pet names (angel, baby, darlin', good girl, mama, sweetie) - oral fixation/reader sucking on Toji's adam's apple - the reader has stretch marks on their body bc I said so - praise - overstimulation - clitoral play (sucking & swiping).
Wc: 3.4k
Toji, by all means, was not a man deserving of children.
His terrible childhood and upbringing have molded him into an emotionless and reserved person who only feels as though the only person he needs to look out for and care for is himself.
So when the premise of children came to him, he wouldn't give it the time of day. That is until he ends up having youths of his own. Even then, he would do the bare minimum of taking care of them — food, clothes, shelter, and taking or picking them up from school. And to top it off, his job wasn't befitting of a father — a hitman going mission to mission for money that he used to spend for himself, now going to the needs of his kids.
Toji knew Tsumiki and Megumi were better off without a father like him. Fatherhood (or children in general, for that matter) is no easy task, and it's clearly one he's not good at.
But all that changed when you came into the picture.
Never had he seen his kids warm up to someone, an outsider, so quick. Even when he mentioned his children to you at the beginning of your relationship, you didn't falter and happily wished to meet them. And the day you finally did was the day everything became a lot brighter for the entire Fushiguro family.
Not only did Tsumiki and Megumi come to trust you with every visit, but their adoration for you grew tenfold the more you were involved in their lives. And all Toji could do was watch you do your magic, whether it be watching animal documentaries with Megumi, making flower crowns with Tsumiki, or playing with them and the other kids at the nearby park.
And the most impressive part about it all was you teaching and including him in how he could get more involved with his youngsters. Now, his kids are closer to him than ever, going so far as Megumi clapping back on his father's snarky comments and Tsumiki having the man play tea parties (to his dismay, but whatever to makes his little girl happy).
It wouldn't have been possible if he hadn't had you around. You were just such a breath of fresh air to him and any child that came your way. Attentive and caring to the young ones as if you were a natural at mimicking the maternal role. He knew you'd be a great mother to any child, especially your own.
It was that thought alone that made Toji think about you having children. Or better yet, having a child with him. Making you pregnant with his baby. Making you his.
Toji walks down the stairs after putting his son and daughter to bed, his heavy footsteps beating the wooden floor beneath him with every step. He then enters the kitchen area, where he sees you washing the dishes from today's dinner after putting the food in the fridge.
When you notice his presence, you look up and offer a charming smile in his direction, your face illuminated beautifully by the ceiling kitchen lights that the image almost blinds him.
"Hey there." Your voice is always sweet to his ears, still smiling even when you turn back to washing dishes. "The kids?"
"Just finished puttin' 'em to bed," your eyes stay at the sink, but you can feel his heavy footsteps come from beside you. "But they said I suck at tellin' bedtime stories."
Your giggle is heard through the noise of dishes clacking on the rack. "Well, maybe you're not using cartoon voices like I told you to. They like it."
"Yeah, no, I'm not doin' that shit." You chuckle some more at his complaint, and he grabs a dry cloth to dry up dishes from the rack.
It's quiet between you, but Toji will sneak glances at you while you work through the dirty plates. His thoughts from before return, and all he can think about is you with a swollen belly.
The mere idea of having you bear his child fogs his brain. Witnessing your body change and expand with the growth of your little one within you, it's too much for his mind to indulge in.
The more he thinks about it, the crazier and hornier his mind goes. Unable to function suitably, Toji sighs heavily through his nose and places the dish and dry cloth on the countertop.
You notice him make his way behind you, his hands traveling down to your hips as his chin rests atop your head. But you pay him no mind and continue with your task. "Hey, darlin'."
The nickname has you hum to him, eyes focused on the soapy sponge and plate in your hands while your ears wait for him to continue. "Yes, Toji?"
He doesn't reply instantly, roaming his large palms up and down your waist and hips instead. "Ya know I love the hell outta you, right?" He goes on when you nod. "Always takin' care of me and lovin' me. But that love also goes to my lil squirts." A smile creeps in on his scarred lips as you giggle at his way of referring to his children. "It's just crazy to me how you're able to have 'em follow y'r every step, yet I can't even get a hug or smile before they leave for school unless I remind them."
"Well, maybe if their father didn't always bully and call them 'squirts' and 'brats' all day, they would show you some love."
"Shut up," Toji flicks water from the faucet onto your face, forcing you to laugh more from your teasing. His heart swoons from your laughter, having you sway side to side with his body behind you. "But I mean it; you're so good with kids. Makes me wonder how come you never had y'r own yet."
"I just love kids." It was a simple answer. "Plus, I never really had time to care for a child. Got work and stuff, you know. And besides, I practically treat Tsumiki and Megumi like my kids."
"Mmm," he replies aimlessly.
"However," you resume while placing a wet bowl on the rack. "I wouldn't mind having a little one of my own. Now that I'm pretty comfortable with where I'm at in life, I'd love to have a little baby to share it with."
Toji lets your words sink in before saying anything. Now that he sees where you stand on the topic, finally, he can voice his opinion.
"Y/n..." he treads carefully with the words he's about to say. "I've been thinkin' about somethin'."
"Thinking about what?" You can't deny the uneasy atmosphere with Toji's mysteriousness, yet you listen as you turn off the sink faucet.
The two of you stop swaying your bodies with each other. "How 'bout we have a baby?"
Your body goes rigid at the question, and breathing subsides as your mind goes rampant with reflections too fast to comprehend. He wants a child—another child!? With me??!
"Like, right now?" The only question that escaped your lips, your voice hushed to a whisper. No one else is here in the space but you two, although the talk you're having right now feels virtually forbidden to the tongue.
"Doesn't have to be right now," Toji moves his head to your shoulder, his hushed, gruff voice clear to your ears. "But as long as it's with you, one more kid won't hurt, right?"
And your breath hitches when a hand finds its way to the surface of your stomach, his fingers lightly teasing with the flesh of your abdomen. He places his lips on your neck, and you bite your bottom lip to repress a whimper. "Mmmm, why do you want more?" You still press him with questions despite almost dissolving into his kisses. "You already have a gorgeous girl—"
"I wan' have your girl." He murmurs softly to your ear before lightly biting the lobe, and a moan slips past you.
"A-And...a beautiful boy..."
"I want your boy."
"Toji, please," you surprise the older man by turning your body to face him fully, eyes surveying his. "This is no joke! Just because I don't have my own kid doesn't mean—"
You're silenced when Toji brings a hand to your cheek, cupping a side of your face. "I'm not jokin', sweetie. I know I'm not the best dad in the world — hell, I'm pretty lousy at it. But you," he leans forward while you instinctively go backward, hitting the sink behind you. "You're basically a mother to mine and a real damn good one, too. And since ya said things are good now, why don't I make you a parent fr' real."
"Toji—"
"Like I said: it doesn't have to be today or tomorrow. But as long as it's you," his thumb brushes your cheek as he looks deep into your eyes. "Let me give ya a baby, angel."
All you can do is look into his emerald orbs that examine you for a response. The silence between you two is accompanied by the ticking sounds of the clock on the kitchen wall. And after a few seconds, you sigh and place a hand on the big one caressing your cheek.
"If I say yes," your reply has his brows lifted. "Will you give me foot massages and a bowl of ramen at three in the morning and not be a bitch about it when I ask?"
Toji gives you a smile, his scarred lip tugged upwards. And you return one to him as he kisses your forehead.
"Works fr' me."
This is how the two of you end up in the bedroom; the ceiling lights toned down to a low shade, clothes discarded on the cold wooden floor, and the sound of lips smacking fills the silence.
"Mmmm, Daddy..." You whimper through the kisses, your hands find purchase on his strong shoulders, and you yelp when he bites your lip. His lips gradually embark downwards to your neck clavicle. Kisses and light suck to your nipples make you hum in pleasure, and a gasp prompts out when his teeth graze the bud of your soft mounds.
A hand sneaks between your legs and nestles in between the lips of your southern entrance, his big fingers enter inside with the use of the soapy fluid of your cunt, and you wail from the contact while he sucks on your breast.
"Such a good girl, angel." He lets go of your nipple to coax you, his mouth sucking your skin as his mouth continues its journey south. More licks on your body feel hot, kisses placed on every stretch mark he comes across. And he stops when he passes your tummy, coming up to see the view of his digits pushing to and fro inside your leaking chasm. "My fingers feelin' good, mama?"
"Yesssss," you hiss, eyes sewn shut to concentrate on the pleasurable sensation in your slit. He chuckles at your delighted expression before he leans down to suck on your clit, earning a shriek from your puffy lips. "Stoooop, I-I'm too sensitive—Ahhaaaannn!!"
He releases your tender bud from his mouth after placing a chaste kiss on it. "Sorry, baby, gotta have you nice and wet fr' me." He sucks and laps around on your wetness for a few more minutes before withdrawing his mouth from your leaky chasm, substituting his tongue with his big fingers to swipe on your clitoris. Broken sobs seep out from you. "Cummin' on my fingers and tongue, that's my girl."
The throbbing commotion between your legs has your ears ringing and your head pulsing. You've already come three times for thirty minutes. He's such a greedy man, but whatever it takes for you to prep for him.
Speaking of which, Toji props your legs onto his shoulders while aligning his cock to your folds, lathering the girth with your juices. Your heart beats irregularly with anticipation on the rise, a position you're all too familiar with. Toji sees you gawking at his glans kissing your folds, and he sneers salaciously. "Ready, sweetie?"
You give him a smile even through entering your lustful haze. "Skipped the pill and everything, Daddy." And with a kiss on your cheek, Toji wastes no time and pushes his length into you with every inhale you take. And the both of you moan when the cockhead slides right into your vulva. Every inch of his dick descends into you, making you full of his size, and whimpers fail to be suppressed as he scrapes your velvety walls deliciously.
After letting you adapt to him, his hips start with a slow rhythm for you to properly situate yourself with the mating press. However, with how you're gripping around him, it doesn't take long for him to quicken his pace. Soft wails soon become stifled squeals with the bite of your lips from the growing cadence, and your eyes begin to water when the underside of his shaft grazes your inner walls.
But when the tip of his cock finally touches your cervix, a choked scream sneaks past your restraint. And Toji chortles. "Mmmmm, that's what I wanna hear." He grinds his pelvis deep into your cunt, resulting in forced squeaks from your tongue.
"Ahhhnnn! Daddy, please—Oh, Jesus," It hurts to think when Toji accurately jabs your delicate cervix, tears streaming down your pretty cheeks. "Oh, God, it's too much, too mu—Oooohh!!"
"I know, darlin', I know." He comes down to your face, yet his pace does not falter. His speed increases and becomes harsher by the second, and your head pounds hard with every rut. You nibble on his neck, sucking on his Adam's apple as he drills his dick into you. "Nnnngh, so tight on me, mama. Gonna make me go crazy."
As if he wasn't going crazier already with the erratic rut of his hips. Driving his cock deep inside and the sound of his balls smacking your folds is all you can hear. Your face is now entirely hot, matching the tingling sensation of skin slapped together between your legs. You dare to peek down to see the union of your sexes, Toji's member now harboring a white ring near the base. Strings of your slick and his spit keep you two connected during this moment, and more incoherent shrieks are pulled from your throat.
"Nnnaaaaa, ahhhaaaa!!! D-Daddy, please!!" While there's uncertainty about whether your pleas will be heard, you still express yourself to him. "It's coming, it's coming! I'm gonna cum, gonna cummmm!! Nnnmmph!!" And when he comes down to you with his complete weight caging you in, the pressure of his body has you submit to him completely.
"Yeah, wanna cum on Daddy's dick." He says with his condescending, guttural tone that almost makes you melt onto the satin sheets beneath you. "G' ahead, mama—Hmmph! Make a nice mess while I finish here..." His strokes become ever intenser than before; his length brushes your inner walls, and continuous pokes to your cervix prompt your orgasm to climb faster. And you soon fall into a wave of pure ecstasy, your cunt clamping around him desperately while your body trembles.
And Toji is forced to fall into a release of his own when the walls of your slit contract around him, spilling into you with the flex of his abdomen. His sweaty body is on top of yours, and your breathing matches his as you two experience each crescendo.
Heavy exhales sync as you two calm down within your intimate embrace. Your mind slowly returns from its foggy state with the calm atmosphere soothing your body, and your quivers now subsided while the older man lays kisses and sucks on your neck. But it comes to a halt when a sudden yelp comes from your swollen lips because he thrusts into you again, even with your vulva being extremely sensitive.
He lifts his head from the crook of your neck, and it's not to your surprise that he has a smirk on that dumb, handsome face of his. His lips curled to where his teeth peek from under his scar. "Ya know I gotta fuck you more than once, right, sweetie? Make sure you're all filled up 'n all."
You suck your teeth with furrowed brows, but a smile comes up with breathless giggles. "I'm telling you, Mr. Fushiguro, you're most definitely treating me to daily foot massages when I get pregnant."
"Whatever you say," he shuts your threats with a kiss on your soft lips. "My pretty darlin'..."
⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆
Toji twiddles with something in his hand while you lay on his chest in the shared bedroom. The kids were taking a nap after coming from school, leaving the two of you to enjoy the leisure of each other's company.
But today was a different day compared to any other. Because even if you two are looking at the television with the old rom-com displayed, neither of you is actually watching. Too busy distracted with the smiles plastered on your faces to care for what's on the screen. The only thing corrupting your minds is a matter that has you two in glee after a week of anticipation and mutual work.
The man peers at his hand to look at the object between Toji's fingers. Nothing but a pink and white stick — a pregnancy test. And at the center of the device conveyed two red lines, the signature implication that you were indeed with a child. His child.
"Hey, Toji," the call of his name has him look down at you, still facing the television despite your attention not wholly on it. "What do you think they are?"
"Hmm?" It takes a few seconds for it to click until he notices your hand brushing around your belly. He chuckles. "I'm hopin' for a girl. Wan' 'em to look and act like you."
You hum aimlessly at his answer before you berate him with more of your thoughts. "What if it's a boy? I think it'd be cute to have another mini-you running around the house."
"Nah, one mini-me is enough, and he already talks back to me like he's a teen." You giggle at the light sour face he shows and his complaints about Megumi. "Besides, I don't want another me. I'm already a lousy dad, and I didn't have the best childhood. I wouldn't want you to deal with a child that's exactly like me..."
Silence ensues with the answer; it's the only response you deem appropriate. That was the case until you say what was next on your mind.
"Toji, I'm sure your upbringing wasn't the best because people weren't there for you when you needed them. And although that's shaped you into the man I love, even I wouldn't want you to go through all that for a second time." You can feel the weight of his green eyes on you while you speak, though you don't turn to face him. "Nevertheless, times are different. You have me to love and care for you now—you and your beautiful children. You might not be the best dad in the world, but you've done a great job taking care of them."
"Thanks to you." He interrupts you, and you laugh.
"Yes, thanks to me. And because you have me, this little one won't be going through what you went through. I promise you, you're not alone in this. Because I'm pretty scared as this is my first pregnancy. But that's okay since I have you to take care of me. I'll be there to help you, and you'll be there to help me. As long as that's true, we'll do just fine."
Taken aback by your response, the older man turns to the pregnancy test still in his hand. The more he looks at the device, the more he ponders what you said. And a small smile creeps up on him, coming to a decision himself. At this point, it doesn't matter what the sex of the child will be to him. What warms his heart is that you promise to be by his side, helping him watch your little one — his child — his family grow as the days and years pass.
"Now," your voice brings him back to the present, whipping his head back to you. "I can't say the same if we end up with twins. Because you'll just have to deal with one while I have the other."
Toji puts the pregnancy test on the nightstand and goes for your nose to pinch it. "Fuckin' kid, who told you were funny, huh?" Your laughter only fuels him to mess with you more, but that's okay. He's smiling at your silliness, and that's all you want right now.
Because, even if they're not here yet, no child should have a father who doesn't know how to smile.
#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑭𝒊𝒄𝒔#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk thirsts#jjk fluff#jjk fanfic#toji fushiguro smut#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro x you#toji smut#toji x reader#toji fic#toji x y/n#dilf toji#fushiguro toji x you#fushiguro toji x reader#fushiguro toji smut
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Restraint - Miguel O'Hara x fem!Reader
summary : you convinced Miguel to wear a muzzle to fuck you, and let's just say it drives him insane.
content warning : SMUT (18+) minors dni, pnv sex, unprotected safe (be safe kids), miguel becoming a tiny bit angry because he can't kiss you nor bite you, possessive miguel, no use of Y/N
word count : 1,1k
note : needed to get this out of my brain, enjoy (english is not my first language and i tried to proofread it properly fdbfdgf)
Miguel grunted, his teeth clenching over the empty air. He snarled, thrusting further into you, trying to press his face into your neck to squeeze the metal and get closer to your skin.
You had managed, in a way that still impressed you right then, to convince Miguel to wear a muzzle during sex. You had smiled, telling him that "you won't be able to resist, it's impossible for you," because the words 'bite' and 'Miguel' were simply inseparable, whether in everyday life or just in bed. With an air of pride and restraint, he had replied, "I'll resist, and you'll be biting your fingers off."
And now, he was pounding into you, body all sweaty with the muzzle on. The restraint had enough space between the bars and his mouth that he only managed to partially graze the sides if he tried to spread his lips or his tongue.
At first, he had put it on almost like a medal, because he was convinced that he would overcome his cravings and control himself perfectly well. How wrong he was.
As soon as he realised that he wouldn't be able to kiss your lips again, that had been a problem. But to admit at that moment that he didn't like it would be to admit defeat a little too soon. However when he realised he couldn’t bite you ? Now that was a problem.
His hands came to grasp your body more tightly than ever. The lack of grip he had with his teeth resulted in his fingers digging into your skin, which turned red under the pressure.
His fingers were pinching, his hands grabbing everything they could get their hold of that he couldn't bite. He took one of your breasts in his hand, his thumb starting to play with it, but when he lowered himself to lick it, he was instantly stopped by the distance between his tongue and the metal. He frowned, but eventually resisted using just his fingers.
Then he realised he couldn't trace your belly with kisses and light nibbles. But the real weight of his little wager began to sink in when, on reaching your legs, he realised what a mistake he'd made. The soft skin of your inner thighs, where the traces he had left the previous time he had fucked you were beginning to fade, was beyond his reach. The very idea that he couldn't make sure it was newly marked, right here, right now, was driving him crazy.
And then, when he got to your pussy, disaster. It was already so wet, glistening with your own desire for him. He was already salivating at the thought of tasting it, of getting drunk on it until he fell off, of hearing you moaning as he made you go from orgasm to orgasm.
But he couldn't, the cool metal dampened by Miguel's breath on the muzzle sending a delicious shiver down your spine when he tried to kiss you there.
He grunted quietly, frustration really beginning to set in, and started to work his fingers instead of his tongue. You breathed a sigh of relief as he came back to you, wanting to nestle into the back of your neck, wanting to kiss it, to feel your cheek pressed against his. But once again, he was stopped by the meagre metal frame. This was where deprivation became sincerely complicated. He hadn't noticed until now how much power his mouth had over your pleasure. He still had control over his words and his voice, but everything else was forbidden to him.
He bit his own cheek as he thrust in you, the first thing he wanted to do with the moan you let out was to swallow it, to relieve himself from the taste of your voice, your whimper and all the others that were to come.
The idea occurred to him to suggest removing the muzzle, thinking that the argument of "but it ruins our common pleasures" would do the trick. But he stopped himself, setting off at a frantic pace, his frustration reflected in the depth and power of his thrusts. All those delicious noises you were making, he wanted them for himself, in his own body, he had caused them and they were rightfully his.
So he tried to press the muzzle aside, hoping that by contorting his lips he would be able to kiss your shoulder, but he couldn't.
"Cariño," he breathed at last, slowing slightly, "What do you say I remove this stupid thing, hm?"
The little flash of satisfaction lit up your eyes like lighters.
"What is it ?" you whimpered, looking up at him through your lashes. "Can't handle yourself ?"
His nose wrinkled under his frown, his lips forming an angry pout. But he had to retain some pride, so, reluctantly, he replied:
"I can handle this perfectly."
He turned you over, your head on the cushion, ass up for him, resuming its previous rhythm as your cries were muffled into the pillow. He'd thought maybe if he heard them less he'd be half as tempted to want them for himself, but the urge weighed.
And the noise that his pelvis made against your ass was pushing all the right buttons.
His fingers dug into your skin again, the desire to bite and kiss you becoming more and more unbearable. Perhaps in another position he would be less tempted?
So you moved into cowgirl, your pelvis undulating against his as his hands gripped your ass and your thighs. But seeing you like this, your teeth biting into your lips from time to time, prevented him from thinking straight. It was his own teeth that should have done that.
"You look frustrated," you noted as you leaned over him.
You had taken care not to kiss or bite him either, but you allowed yourself the small temptation to kiss his neck, and Miguel's desire was growing by the second. Then, with a mischievous smile, you came back to face him.
"I wonder why," you smiled, licking from bottom to top the surface of the muzzle in a slow, almost lazy gesture.
It was too much, he couldn't take it any more. So with a sharp jerk, he grabbed the strap of the object of all his torment and pulled on it, the strap ripping immediately.
He pounced on you, hungry, his lips attacking yours, swallowing your every moan with monstrous satisfaction. Inevitably, he lunged at the crook of your neck, biting down harder than he was used to into your flesh. He consumed everything in his path, insatiable.
"I'll burn that thing," he said between a kiss and a bite, thinking of the pleasure he would take in destroying the muzzle.
One thing was certain, he would never tire of devouring you whole.
#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x you#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x fem!reader#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel x reader#atsv miguel#miguel ohara#miguel x you#miguel spiderverse#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel x y/n#miguel spiderman#miguel atsv#madschiavelique ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎
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i loved the hickey fic🥵
can i request a role reversal fic?
reader marks up joel and is unashamed about it
Pairing: Joel Miller x reader
a/n: thank you love, hope you'll like this although its been so long you probably forgot about this. and if you're interested, this is the fic they were referring to
It was just you and Ellie in the kitchen this morning. You were laughing about another funny dream she had last night, this one involving Joel trying to tame a gigantic sheep so he could ride it or something, she didn't quite remember the purpose, not that it mattered.
But as you both quite literally felt on the verge of tears from the image the dream was painting in your minds, the main character of said dream, appeared in the doorway, throwing you both a dirty look as if watching two of the three people he loved the most in this entire world didn't fill his old heart with pure joy.
"It's too early to be this chipper" he grumbled, walking to you to leave a quick kiss on your cheek as he reached for the coffee pot behind you.
A gasp sounded from the other sound of the counter
"oh my god what happened to your neck?!"
And it was then, that Joel Miller, the unafraid, stone-cold killer of a man that he was, turned red from hairline to neck.
"O-Oh fuck I-" His eyes widened, his hand going to cover your work on his neck, but it was all useless, because the second Ellie's eyes landed on the smirk plastered on your face, she knew.
"oh my god ew" she groaned, rolling her eyes, her focus going back to the eggs on her plate.
"You remember Janine, that woman I told you about?" you explained, talking to her
She laughed at that, remembering your conversation about that woman who's always flirting with Joel.
"you filled Joel's neck with hickeys because of her?"
Joel wasn't even red anymore, he was turning purple, his eyes were wider than a deer's caught in the headlights, and you suspected he hadn't taken a breath since he first entered the kitchen.
"this..." you smiled, trailing your fingers on Joel's neck "is my own little way of telling her to keep her hands off my man"
Joel choked, he literally choked on his own saliva and just then, just when he was about to have a heart attack, Tommy entered the house, his eyes immediately going to the image before him with more than a little amusement.
"What have I walked into?" he grinned, walking over to the kitchen "And why does my brother look a breath away from exploding?" he laughed, his hands gesturing to Joel.
"y/n here was giving me way too much information that I certainly didn't want to know" Ellie explained, looking at you pointedly for the last part of her sentence, making you chuckle.
"About what?" Tommy asked
"About the work of art I left on your brother's neck"
"wha-Ohhh" he breathed, smiling like a smug bastard as he understood what you were talking about "Janine tried something again I presume?"
"You presume right" you smiled, giving Joel a little kiss on the cheek and stifling a smile at how terrified he seemed "for the last time"
"You ok baby?" you asked, stroking his cheek
His gaze was on Ellie, his mouth parted in shock.
"You still with us man?" she asked, giggling softly, making him shake his head to try and get his mind to start working again.
And then, then the words came tumbling off his tongue, filled with what sounded like pure panic
"S-since when do you know what a hickey is!?"
Everyone in the room except him laughed, but when the shock on his features persisted, and Ellie regained her composure, she answered.
"I'm not a kid Joel, I know what sex is"
Another pang to his poor heart,
he felt all the organs inside him twist into a knot
what the fuck was happening?
Did she just say-
"sex!?" he cried, looking a second away from having a mental breakdown "I-I never said sex- H-how do you even know- I- You- You're too young- I-I"
"ok ok ok" you tried your best not to chuckle, intervening before his heart really decided to stop "How 'bout we go outside for a moment huh? Take a few deep breaths? How about that?" you murmured, soothingly drawing circles on his back
He looked at you then, looking every bit as disheveled as he sounded
"y-yeah" he swallowed thickly, "I-I think that's a good idea"
He looked back at Ellie for a moment to make sure this wasn't a nightmare and he didn't just make that up, before you both left the room.
And as if on cue, the second you did, Tommy and Ellie started laughing like maniacs.
"I don't think I've ever seen him so scared" Ellie laughed, as Tommy sat next to her, patting her back
"Neither have I" he chuckled, none of them saying anything before an idea came to his mind.
a hell of a funny one
"ten bucks if you tell him you know what porn is"
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fluff#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#fluff#joel miller imagine#joel miller blurb#joel miller angst#fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#the last of us hbo#tlou hbo
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