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rosesoutofbounds · 1 year

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Observe - Yandere!Liquid Snake x Male!Reader

Summary: Snake has been resisting torture, so when Liquid finds his partner, he gets a couple of ideas

Words: 2,843

Content warning: Rape/non-con, anal sex, fingering, voyeurisms, humiliation, degradation, reader has AMAB anatomy

Reader pronouns: He/Him

AN: First post on the blog, so I'm kind of nervous. Also, I know this is out of left field, but people keep saying "be the fanfiction you want to see in the world, so FUCK IT. Here's Liquid being a douchebag, then railing the reader. 🌹

2 hours had passed since Snake first woke up in chains. Ocelot’s electroshock torture had lost its novelty after a while, and after about a half hour, and not a single word from Snake about the location of the supposed other two PAL cards, it seemed like Ocelot had gotten bored. Since then, he’d had about an hour and a half to ponder. Meryl had been captured as well, but what about Y/N, the man he’d met in Otacon’s laboratory? He’d left him in the med lab, with the assurance that he would be back within 30 minutes. Had he also gotten captured, or was he holding up? Just one more reason to get out of here as soon as possible.

The door slid open, and Snake’s blue eyes narrowed with caution as he saw Liquid Snake, his genetic twin, step through the door, dragging a smaller, slimmer male by the arm. Snake swore. Y/N L/N, one of the last survivors of the Shadow Moses staff. He didn’t appear to be hurt, but his arms were bound behind his back with a pair of handcuffs, and he was barefoot.

“Y/N…” Snake breathed “Are you ok?”

“I’ve been worse.” He responded. “You look like death, Snake.”

“I feel like death.” He craned his head to look at Liquid. “So… what do you want?”

Y/N felt a low rumble of laughter from the man behind him, and felt the grip on his arm pull him closer into his chest. It was unsettling to be the captive of Liquid, as he looked practically identical to Snake with the same sharp blue eyes, chiseled jawline, and athletic build. If it weren’t for the long blonde hair, and strong British accent they would be virtually identical.

“Well, apparently Ocelot wasn’t able to get anything out of you, so I figured I’d try a method of my own after we found your friend hiding in the med lab.” His voice held an arrogant and cruel tone. “Such a pretty boy, a real diamond in the rough. I’m surprised you managed to hide him away as long as you did, but to be fair, if I had a pet like this, I wouldn’t want to share him either.”

“What’s the point of this?” Y/N asked through gritted teeth. “Are you going to torture me or what?”

“Hmm… not quite. See, I happen to be looking for some PAL cards. They’re fairly valuable to me, since they control the locks to Metal Gear Rex. I can’t exactly have you two running around them, but since my brother has ardently refused to hand them over quietly, you’re going to help me find them.”

“He doesn’t know where they are, Liquid.” Snake said. “You’re wasting your time.”

“I know he won’t tell me.” Liquid responded, running a finger across Y/N’s bottom lip. “You will.”

Liquid suddenly shoved the young man harshly to knees on the cold concrete floor, and dropped a knee on the center of his back, propping his clothed rear in the air. “Here’s what’s going to happen here, little brother. You’re going to tell me where the other card keys are…”

His fingers coiled around Y/N’s locks, lifting his head just a couple inches above the ground.

“…or I am going to fuck the brains out of this pretty little thing right in front of you.”

“You wouldn’t!” Snake hissed, fruitlessly tugging at the metal restraints that kept his body upright. “Damnit Liquid, why not just torture me?”

“Simple.” the blonde responded, running a hand down Y/N’s side. “You can take any punishment we throw at you. He can’t. So what’s it going to be? Are you going to tell me where those cards are, or will you just watch as I fuck your partner?”

“Snake, you better not tell that asshole a damn thing-” Y/N groaned, but was cut off when a gloved hand squeezed around his windpipe. Liquid groaned at the feeling of the young man’s breath catching in his throat. He thrashed weakly, but with his hands cuffed behind him, and a knee on his back, his range of motion was pitifully limited, just what Liquid wanted.

“Last call, brother.”

Snake, as much as it hurt him, stayed quiet. Y/N shot him a quick look of encouragement. Three seconds went by before Liquid gave a fake sigh of disappointment.

“I see your choice has been made, but just remember as I’m splitting Y/N open on my cock, that this is entirely your fault.”

Liquid slowly removed his gloves, dropping them on the ground just by Y/N’s head. Then, without a moment of warning, Liquid savagely tore the threadbare shirt away from his body. Y/N gasped as the sting of cold arctic air washed across his skin, raising lines of gooseflesh across his body. Liquid ran his uncovered hands across every inch of exposed skin, across his hips, up his abdomen, across his pecs. His fingers stopped to tease the perfectly pert nipples eliciting a silenced whine from the smaller man. The reaction from such small stimulation had blood rushing to Liquid’s groin. He could already feel his erection staining in his pants, and he’d barely gotten started. With a single push, he shoved down Y/N’s pants and boxers, tossing them aside, and finally getting a look at what lay underneath.

Y/N felt a shiver run down his spine as a gust of cold air came into contact with his exposed lower body, and another when the warmth of Liquid’s hands ran over the smoothness of his ass, the rough texture on his sensitive skin, and the possessive squeeze that accompanied it, making the younger man gasp.

Snake flinched as the last trace of clothing was removed from Y/N’s body. He couldn’t deny that he was attractive, and had often imagined what he might look like if they’d made it out of Shadow Moses, and gotten some time by themselves, to finally see him in all his glory, to see him given all the pleasure he deserved after such an ordeal. But this was the last way he wanted this to happen.

“Flawless…” Liquid breathed. With a sadistic grin on his face, he turned to the petrified Snake. “And judging from the lack of additional marks, I’m guessing you didn’t get a chance to take him before I did.”

He squeezed down roughly on one of Y/N’s asscheeks.

“How about it sweetheart?” Liquid hissed in Y/N’s ear, licking a stripe from the nape of his neck to the base of his ear. “How would you like to have had my brother bend you over and break you in by force? Did you ever tease him with this slutty ass of yours?”

Y/N kept in a retort, biting down harshly on his lip to hold back any reaction as Liquid latched onto his neck, sucking at the sensitive spot. Liquid growled at the young man’s efforts of silence, slapping his ass hard, the snap ringing around the room. Y/N couldn’t help but cry out, and in the moment of weakness, Liquid forced his fingers into his open mouth, effectively gagging him.

“Suck.” He ordered. “Unless you want me to prepare you dry.”

Y/N obediently ran his tongue over the thick digits invading his mouth, coating them with as much saliva as he could before they were removed. Y/N visibly flinched as he felt one of Liquid’s fingers probing at his ass, teasingly circling the tight ring of muscle before pushing in. The intrusion wasn’t painful, but it was so unlike anything Y/N had ever felt, that he couldn’t help but cry out. This did not go unnoticed by Liquid, who laughed cruelly.

“A virgin whore…” he cooed. “My lucky day.”

Before long, a second finger had forced its way into Y/N ass, scissoring him open with quick motions. Y/N tried to regulate his breathing, keeping his eyes on the bright ceiling lights, doing his best to try and ignore the violation of his body. His eyes drifted over to Snake’s, wide with horror, still struggling to break free from his unmoving restraints. Y/N’s cheeks darkened with shame, and he looked away, back to the searing fluorescent lamps that illuminated the room, and for a moment, he almost succeeded in fleeing from the reality behind him, until a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through his body. His hips jerked forward, and a choked moan split from his mouth.

“Found it…”

“What- what are you- a-ah!”

Liquid’s rough fingers started mercilessly abusing the smaller male’s prostate, drawing out moans with blunt stabs that made his legs shake, and his tearing eyes see stars, bringing Y/N’s cock to full hardness in only a few moments. Liquid’s other hand started teasing his erect dick, running his fingers up the length of his cock, rubbing a bead of precum forming over the tip, flushed red, forcing a broken cry out of Y/N. This pleasure being forced on him, he didn’t know it could feel this good. Just as Y/N was sure he was reaching his limit the fingers torturing his prostate were removed, and his body was flipped on his back. He hissed as the cold floor met his flushed skin. He tried to use his bound hands to push himself back up, but was discouraged when Liquid’s boot pressed down on his sternum.

“Be good, and I might be gentle with you.”

He pulled off his long brown coat, revealing a perfectly sculpted body beneath it. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as he heard the click of a belt being unbuckled.

“Keep your eyes on me, darling.” He grinned, his blue eyes soaking in the sight below him. Y/N’s naked body on full display, flushed and trembling, hair matted with sweat, and cock standing tall. It was picturesque. He was ashamed that he hadn’t brought a camera to capture the moment.

“Liquid stop!” Snake's voice rang out, showing true fear for the first time since Y/N met him. “Don’t do this, I’m begging you!”

“If you want me to stop, then give me the keycards.” Liquid sneered. “Or I’m just going to go with plan A.”

Y/N weakly shook his head. They both knew what was at stake if they let him have what he wanted. A nuclear warhead straight for the heartland of America wasn’t something they could allow, even if it meant being used as a fucktoy for Liquid’s amusement.

With blinding speed, Liquid had freed his straining erection from the confines of his pants, and much to Y/N’s horror, it was massive. He knew that Liquid didn’t care whether he could take it or not. Liquid straddled Y/N’s waist, tilting his chin upwards to force their eyes to meet.

“Don’t you dare look away from me.” He warned. “Or I’ll make this a much worse experience for you, my little virgin whore.”

He sat up, and with two strong hands, lifted Y/N’s legs, pushing them to his chest, exposing his hole. He pressed the blunt tip of his massive rod to the unyielding muscle. Panic set in once again, and Y/N desperately tried to wriggle away. Liquid’s eyes darkened, and his grip on his thighs tightened.

“The more you fight, the more I’ll make this hurt.” Liquid growled. “I’d rather you enjoy this, but I can always do this the hard way.”

Y/N’s head thudded against the ground as his struggle stopped.

“Good boy. Now… relax.”

That was the only warning before he pushed his way inside. Y/N cried out with a mixture of pain and pleasure. He felt like he was being torn apart. He involuntarily thrashed against the dick buried deep in his insides, filling him up like no-one else could, but a hand caging his throat stopped any attempts of rebellion.

“So tight…” Liquid grunted. Buried to the hilt in his constricting heat, begging to be ruined, he turned his gaze down the trophy he’d stolen, eyes blown wide with powerful stimulations that only he could bring. He pulled out until just his tip was left inside, then slammed down, thrusting hard into the velvety feeling of Y/N ass. His pace began slowly, but quickly ramped up as his ass began to accept the cock pushing in and out. Y/N could no longer hide his moans and cries, spilling from his lips as each furious thrust hit deeper than the last, brushing up against his oversensitive prostate with each movement. While Y/N was falling to his own body’s reactions, Liquid was on cloud 9. Seeing his shaft disappear into Y/N’s ass, the feeling of his neck beneath his hands, the pathetic whimpers of pleasure that came with every thrust, it was all perfect. He’d wanted to do this from the moment he’d laid eyes on him in the medical office, and while obviously this was a means to an end, the true prize was fucking Snake’s partner before he could. Maybe Y/N didn’t realize it yet that Snake was in love with him, but that just made it better, and the horrified expression on Snake’s face said enough. Snake couldn’t take another second. Watching his partner being raped and humiliated by a brother he’d barely met was too much for the mercenary to take.

“Stop it!” He shouted. “I’ll tell you everything, just stop!”

Liquid heeded his brother’s words, slowing his thrusts to a lazy, languid rolling of his hips.

“Took you long enough.” He huffed. “Now then, the other key cards. Where are they?”

Snake’s head slumped, as he told Liquid of the shape changing card, how it could respond to different temperatures to form other keys, which would unlock the controls to the Metal Gear. Liquid had a triumphant smile on his face as the information was disclosed.

“I knew you would see reason eventually.” He drawled. “I knew a patriotic champion such as yourself couldn’t stand to see your partner being hurt.”

Y/N sighed in relief, believing that his torment was finally at an end. His hopes died when a devilish grin crossed Liquid’s face.

“But unfortunately for you, like most Americans, you are incredibly stupid.”

Liquid’s hands seized Y/N’s hips, and snapped his cock back into him, starting up again harder and faster than before. Y/N cried out in the sudden stimulation, pleasure that came so suddenly that bordered on painful, fruitlessly trying to fight back against the sensations that overwhelmed his body.

“There’s no point.” Liquid cackled. “You’re not getting away from me, so just lie back like a good boy, and fucking take it.”

“You said- you would- stop…” Y/N gasped out between thrusts.

“I lied.” He laughed sadistically. “Did you really think I would let you go without blowing my load in this tight little ass at least once?”

“Liquid!” Snake screamed with anger and sorrow. “I swear to god, I’ll kill you for this!”

“You can try… but right now, I’m too busy to care.”

Liquid bucked into the helpless male below him, and slid his hand down to his hard dick, pumping it in time with his thrusts. The feeling of his ass clenching down on Liquid’s pistoning cock, and the sight of his shaft sliding in and out of Y/N’s glistening hole was enough to drive him out of his mind.

“This is mine.” He snarled. “You are mine. Even if you make it out of here, if you run to the farthest reaches of the world, you will always belong to me.”

Y/N couldn’t fight it any longer. With the pressure on his prostate, the hand on his cock, and the degrading words in his ears, the coil snapped, and he came hard, ropes of white coating his chest, and as he did, Liquid’s lips crashed into his own, stealing a kiss that wasn’t his to take, and slamming deep and, shooting his own load in Y/N’s ass. After a few moments, he pulled away from the smaller man’s limp body, dragging his massive shaft out of the abused hole, watching as it continued to spasm even after his orgasm was long over

“Slutty little ass… clenching down on nothing.” he sneered, giving it one last slap before he went to retrieve his discarded clothing. “Don’t worry, pretty boy. I’m not done with you yet.”

For Y/N, the world was nothing but haze. He could only dimly register the feeling of Liquid pulling out, the sticky feeling of his own release over his body, and the hushed whispers of Snake, telling him how sorry he was. He flinched as he felt a pair of strong arms picking him off the ground, and a coat being pushed over his shoulders as he was carried out of the room.

“All mine…” he heard Liquid whisper as he lost consciousness. “I’ll make sure you never get away.”

#liquid snake x reader #yandere liquid snake #yandere liquid snake x reader #liquid snake x male reader #yandere x male reader #yandere mlm #yandere liquid snake x male reader #yandere metal gear solid

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privateanxieties · 2 years

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this dance we always do

Summary: It’s Peter’s birthday, and she’s still holding out hope that this time, they’ll finally cross that line they’ve been dancing around forever. Their friends are in agreement, scheming and plotting. Peter doesn’t react well, so she takes matters into her own hands.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (she/her); friends to lovers, pining, extremely fluffy, romance, shit-talking, happy ending;

Words: 6.8K

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The perfect present, she decided long ago, would only be found by enlisting May's help. After an entire lifetime of gift giving between them, coming up with ways to impress Peter Parker was getting more difficult with every passing year.

Comfort items would no longer do, and neither would the nerdy stuff Peter was usually head over heels for, because he could get most of them himself now. The really expensive things… well, they were out of reach for both of them.

Instead of searching for presents this year, she'd go in search of ideas first, and the best stop for that would undoubtedly be May's house. She dropped by with a prior phone call one June afternoon and made sure to wring every last bit of information out of May - subtly, of course. Perhaps too subtly, even, because the woman seemed entirely confused as to why she wanted to talk about Peter's life when she'd known him for most of it.

She came clean over cookies and tea, and May was more than happy to help in unexpected ways. She recounted one of her failed attempts at getting Peter a gift for his 21st birthday that consisted of a long lost wrist watch that had belonged to Ben. Her beloved husband had received it as a gift himself - from Peter's father, when he turned 21. But Ben was also the kind of man who put family above all else, and who would've sacrificed anything for their comfort and security.

The watch had been exchanged for seven hundred and eighty dollars, which made the difference in whether they got evicted or not one year. May found out only when she confronted him about it, and had wanted to find a way to get it back for a long time.

It was not easy to find, and it wasn't easy to purchase either, but finally, on July 22nd, a day before Peter's birthday, she did find it.

Her rainy day fund would have to be rebuilt from scratch, but not buying that watch would have weighed much heavier on her conscience than the hole in her pocket now does.

It's beautiful, and so Peter it hurts. No wonder generations of Parker men have been called to it.

With a brown leather band and gold frame, the most captivating feature was its exposed automatic mechanism. If those little gems within were rubies, then perhaps the price was well worth it. Although, the inscription on the back was likely what would do the trick in impressing the recipient.

Forever family,

Richie and Ben

With May's blessing and a good amount of tears, she knew she had likely the best present she would ever give him. Tough to follow up this act for his next birthday, but she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

For now, she had to also find an outfit for the party his friends were throwing for him, and buying one was certainly out of the question… until she saw that dress in a shop's display, and like all the clichés, she just knew it was necessary.

She just didn't know how she would work up the courage to wear it, given that she hadn't worn one in years, probably since before college. Confidence of this sort only came in extremely limited quantities and always in short bursts, but whenever it did, it was tied to him.

She wanted to wear that dress for him, but if she were honest, it was for herself. Maybe his birthday - maybe this birthday… she'd finally say something. Maybe he'd say something.

Maybe, if she showed up looking like she stepped out of a picture book, he'd notice. Maybe they wouldn't keep dancing around each other.

At least, that's what she thought they kept doing, and she hoped it was an accurate perception for the sake of her sanity. Nothing more humiliating than reading into things that aren't there.

To her credit, receiving that much affection from him could have messed with her brain. She didn't know if it was normal, or if it was special. Peter was affectionate with everybody, especially those close to him, but he always seemed to linger with her.

Or indeed, she could have had her wires fried by all the forehead kisses.

Maybe it was the arrogance and pride of knowing she was the only one with whom he'd shared his secret. Maybe it was all the nights he spent at her apartment after being too tired to make it back to his. Maybe it was all the platonic intimacy that always crossed into murky territory.

She still didn't know whether they almost kissed that one time, or whether it was a hallucination of her very enthusiastic brain.

If she didn't find out where they stood tonight, she never would.

The dress almost made her regret not wearing one for so long, because it couldn't be real. She couldn't believe she actually felt good in it, and above all she couldn't believe she liked how she looked.

She'd put in all the effort that afternoon, and it was now paying off, even if she was already kind of exhausted from scrubbing, shaving and grooming every inch of her body.

She kind of understood now - why many women did this all the time, or even just occasionally. She was vibrating in anticipation, and the tiredness was fizzing away the closer the cab got to Harry's townhouse.

She figured she might as well go ahead and scrap the rest of her disposable income on a taxi, since she wasn't going to traverse Manhattan in a dress that ended just above her fingertips.

The party appeared to have already started, as she could hear it from down the street, and sure enough when the car stopped out front, she had some doubt as to whether she got the time right.

This is what happens when she doesn't have a hand in planning and logistics - the very first time in years that she didn't even know where the party would be until the day of.

She hoped Harry had it under control and that he didn't go out of his way to overwhelm Peter with everything he had organized, but upon closer inspection, there was little chance of him not having gone above and beyond.

As she paid for her ride, she wondered how many times the police would show up to ask them to keep it down during the course of the evening. If they would even show up.

Maybe it's not so bad having connections, but sometimes Harry took it just a step too far.

The townhouse was exquisite: a four-story limestone construction bathed in light and luxury, invoking an air of elegance reminiscent of 19th century architecture.

It was currently housing twenty-somethings that were either drunk or about to be. She didn't want to know what the damage might be by the end of the night, but for once, it was easy to shrug it off when her name wasn't on the insurance deposit.

It was almost 9 p.m., and she was starting to get a weird feeling in her stomach. The three or four people lingering outside for a smoke looked like they'd been there a while, but she didn't know any of them well enough to go ask. Her invite text said 8:30, and though she was a little late, she wasn't that late.

Making her way up the steps carefully, the door opened right in her face, startling her backwards and nearly off the last step, until an arm pulled her right into him.

There he was. The birthday boy.

Looking like a million dollars and smelling even better. Dark navy dress pants. A white button down dress shirt. Three scandalous buttons left open. Rolled up sleeves.

A pout that made her lips tingle.

Her knees felt gooey.

"There you are. I thought you weren't coming.", he said, and there was something about his tone that indicated he wasn't chastising her for being late. He was serious.

"Why wouldn't I come? My text said 8:30."

"The party started at 7."

Seven? Seven?? She was going to kill Harry.

"I need to have words with -

"I think I'll have words with him.", Peter interrupted, seeming like he was going to right at that moment. She pulled him back towards her with her free hand, and she knew that if she managed to get him to stop, it was because he let her.

"Later."

"Yeah. Ok, later.", he conceded.

There was a brief pause, and with a small smile, she reached into her handbag and retrieved the neatly wrapped present that she'd been transporting with the utmost care. She decided then to be brave.

Holding it out towards him, she leaned up on her toes and placed a soft kiss to his left cheek that she hoped didn't linger too much. He smelled intoxicating and his jaw was freshly shaven.

"Happy birthday", she said gently, looking into his eyes.

He didn't reply. He didn't say anything for long enough that she began to worry.

"Are you mad that - "

"You look beautiful."

Oh.

He looked so sincere that it made breathing just a little harder, and his eyes so intense that she couldn't look away.

"Thank you. You clean up pretty well too."

She wanted to tell him he looked good enough to eat, but customs dictated not to put the cart before the horse.

"New suit. Harry took me shopping."

"Oh, a new suit. What's wrong with the old one?", she jested.

He caught on quickly, a small chuckle leaving him.

"Inappropriate. Little tight in the wrong places. Which is to say everywhere."

Laughing together, she remembered the present he had yet to take from her and she held it out again. She was well used to this routine by now, of Peter pretending not to even see it, then avoiding the subject, then finally - sheepishly - accepting it.

Yes, there it was. The embarrassment for being celebrated.

"What is it?", he asked shyly.

"Be careful with it. It's… important.", she said instead of answering, shivering involuntarily when their hands brushed together.

"Guarding it with my life.", he promised.

"That's potentially ha-"

"There she is! Can't believe you made it. Now he can finally stop pouting and ruining the party!"

Harry. Just who she wanted to see. He approached from down the hall, or whatever one might call the expanse of space that led to the entrance. She was sure there was some special term for these residences.

Harry wound an arm around Peter's shoulder, the other holding a drink. He was dressed smartly also, and maybe she could go a little easier on him, given that he had a hand in the way Peter looked tonight.

"Yes, I can't believe I made it either. Any later and I would've come just to say goodbye. You wouldn't happen to know why my invite said 8:30, would you?"

Harry didn't even pretend to be ashamed.

"Ohh.. I think we forgot to send you the follow up. See, it was at 8:30 initially, but some stuff got mixed around and we settled on 7.", he explained, not remorseful in the slightest. Of course.

"And everyone got a follow up but me…", she inquired, eyebrows raised.

"Hey, I'll take it up with Clara if you want, but you're here now! Come on, we're gonna have a good time now that Mr. Parker doesn't have a cartoonish storm cloud above his head anymore."

"I don't have a -"

"Buddy, everyone's been asking if you're not feeling well or something."

She pretended she wasn't elated that Peter apparently valued her presence so much as to just not enjoy his party if she wasn't there. If what Harry was saying was even true. He had a reputation for teasing Peter every chance he got.

Guided by the host of the evening, they finally left the doorway and traversed further inside. From what she knew, Peter had been here before a few times, but it was a first for her.

Everywhere she looked, there were things she was afraid to touch, and she marveled silently at how relaxed the other guests were. She recognized some of Harry's friends, and dispersed around the space were her and Peter's common friends and a couple of their coworkers. However, most of the list seemed to be made up of strangers, but one look at them confirmed their status: New York socialites.

She supposed one had to fill the venue with an appropriate number of people to call it a party, otherwise most of their actual acquaintances would have fit in the living room.

It didn't take long at all for Harry to be called away to some other gathering, leaving them both with drinks and a promise to come back before they had to cut the cake. It was lying in the center of the kitchen island, a five-story monstrosity that was, in actuality, quite beautiful. She just didn't know where the wedding was.

She let a sound of admiration escape.

"Yeah… Couldn't talk him out of any of this.", Peter said, scrunching up his nose.

"It's alright. He loves you, and I think that's just how he shows it."

"I don't know that many people here.", he pointed out in return, looking around.

"Oh yeah, who all is here by the way? I saw Liam and Cindy on the way over. And Marcie too."

"Natalia, Georgie, Jordan, Kaya - uh… Sam and Ty and a couple others. But everyone else, I don't know. Feels a little weird accepting gifts from strangers."

A sly smile found its way to her lips.

"What, did Nicholas Augustus Devon III ask you if you went to Harvard or Yale?"

"He asked me which trust fund I'm managing, actually.", he chided.

"Was that before or after giving you his business card?"

"Fuck off."

Giggling like school children, they were again in their own little world, comfortable and safe even amidst strangers who spent more money in an afternoon than they'd ever see in their lives.

She noticed that both of Peter's hands were occupied, one holding her present and the other holding the crystal glass Harry served him his drink in.

"Do you wanna maybe put something down?", she asked quietly.

Peter shook his head.

"There's a table in the foyer stacked to the ceiling with boxes I'm afraid to open. I'm keeping this one close. Don't want it to fall over."

"Oh, the foyer…", she teased.

"Shut up.", Peter glared humorously.

She was glad Peter wanted to keep her gift on him, but there was just as much risk of the delicate watch inside tumbling to the floor as the night went along and people got piled with alcohol. Plus, it had to be uncomfortable to walk around with it, even if it was decidedly small.

"Maybe you should ope - "

"Look who decided to show up! Thought you were giving us the slip!"

They both rolled their eyes simultaneously, turning to greet their closest friend.

"Thought I'd show up later and not have to endure your presence for longer than necessary.", she deadpanned at the same time as she sank into Liam's hug.

"If we're gonna talk endurance, try being around this one for two hours of sulking.", he quipped right back, smirking at Peter.

"I wasn't sulking. I was - "

"About to cry?"

"Liam, I'm gonna mess you up."

"Uh oh. You gonna do me dirty in front of your girl? Watch out, she might ditch you for one of the civilized attendees."

It sucked. It sucked so badly, being referred to as Peter's girl when she knew she wasn't, but it was a fantasy she couldn't help indulge in as inconspicuously as possible. She didn't even berate Liam for it.

"Liam, Peter's the only one in this room that I would save in a fire.", she said in a monotone.

"Oh, sweetheart, I think you mean the only one in the city, don't you?", he mocked.

"On account of people with bodyguards being around, I won't hit you for that comment.", she responded.

"I think you could do anything you wanted with this one backing you up.", Liam continued, a positively devilish expression on his face as he jutted his chin at Peter.

"Alright, that's it. Break it up.", another voice intervened.

Thank goodness for better halves.

"Cindy - come collect your cro-magnon man before evolution wipes him out.", Peter said when the blonde woman was close enough.

"Nah, that's too slow. My hands work just fine.", she said pointedly, throwing her boyfriend a look.

"Yeah they do, baby."

Both her and Cindy sputtered, Peter shook his head with a huff, and Liam had a shit-eating grin on his face.

They continued on for a good while, laughing and catching up, having contests over who could guess what the food lined up around the room even was. Having said hello to their other friends and colleagues, she found herself in need of a new beverage and left the group to get one. At the very least, Harry listened to one request: no servers. That would've been really awkward for all who were not accustomed to this lifestyle.

She just about managed to pour herself a drink and make it back to them, when she was ambushed.

It's fine. Be sociable. Be nice. If he's a dick, tell him to fuck off.

"Hi there. I'm Nicholas."

She almost burst into laughter, having to choke it back at the last second. She hoped she didn't sound too much like a strangled cat.

Offering him her name in turn, she would've gone for a hand shake - but she was ambushed again, and her hand intercepted for a kiss.

That was new. Not a bad new, but somewhat unsettling in a way. She didn't know how to interact with these people.

"Are you a friend of Harry's?", he asked.

"Only since we were sixteen.", she answered honestly. She did consider herself a friend of Harry's, but she wasn't extremely sure of the reverse. They didn't really hang out that much, but they knew enough about each other to warrant closeness.

"Ah, so not that long ago."

She was twenty-five. Hm. Smooth, even if uncalled for.

It turned out, the guy wasn't really that unpleasant after all, and the longer she talked to him, the more comfortable she felt being honest. She wasn't reading any judgment on his face, or perhaps he was very good at hiding it, because there was no way he hadn't yet decoded that they were not of the same socioeconomic status.

Her dress, though expensive for her, could not be traded for even a sleeve of his shirt, she was sure.

Before they could move on to anything more than superficial small talk, however, he got called away by one of his friends, and he made his way upstairs, but not before leaving her with another kiss on the back of her hand and a 'pleasure to meet you'.

It must've showed on her face - the surprise - because her own friends were extremely quick to call her out for it. Apparently, they had seen some of the interaction.

Liam was a menace, and with his accomplice Sam by his side, they really did their best to make it seem like she was destined for the good life. Except for Peter, who looked like there was a math problem in front of him that he couldn't solve.

"All I'm saying is this: you drive him crazy, marry him - no prenup - and then you eat him black widow style.", Sam explained to her, having to be immediately shushed by everyone else.

But then everyone got quiet themselves, because Peter chose that moment to interject, when previously he'd been quiet.

"Black widows don't always eat their partners."

Crickets.

Oh, Peter.

"Huh?", Sam asked.

"I'm just saying. Black widows don't always devour their partners. And even when they do, their partners actually offer themselves up. Like, literally. They want to be devoured."

"And why do you reckon they do that?", Liam asked, arms crossed.

She could read the mischief on him a mile away. No -

"Well maybe because that's it for them. They don't want anyone else. They're happy with just the one.", Peter said.

More crickets, but also, a flutter.

Of her heart, specifically. She wasn't sure what to make of his little spider lecture, and she would have found it funny - in an inside joke sort of way - if she wasn't desperately trying to decode what the hell it meant.

If it even meant anything. She hoped it meant something. Why was he being so weird all of a sudden?

"Well, my advice is, if they're happy with just the one, they first need to get the one. And then they can die in peace. Or you know, pieces.", Liam broke the tension.

Various eye rolls followed his comment, and she took the opportunity to pull Peter aside under the guise of showing him something.

Finding a quiet corner of the giant residence was not difficult, but it did require a trip upstairs, as downstairs was just too swarmed. Once inside a quiet room lined with bookshelves, likely a library by the looks of it, she let go of his hand and turned to face him.

"You okay?", she asked.

He shook his head in confusion.

"Why wouldn't I be? I thought you wanted to show me something, but I know you've never been here before."

"So why did you come with me?"

"Because you asked me to."

"What was that little anecdote of yours about?"

"What anecdote?"

"With the spiders."

"That wasn't an anecdote."

"Oh, no?"

"No! Do you want to show me something or not?"

Well, that was a bit harsh, and it probably showed, because she looked away, trying not to tear up. She couldn't believe she brought him up there like an idiot, thinking he might - what? Confess? Yeah, fat chance.

God, you're so stupid.

"Um… no, I don't.", she said, doing her best to keep the emotion out of her voice. She didn't look at Peter to see his.

"Then why did you bring me up here?"

Unable to answer, she took half a breath and just walked past him, opening the door and leaving the room, though she didn't make it far before she bumped into someone.

"Whoa, hey - Oh. Hello again."

"Nicholas - hey…"

Maybe he'd be a good distraction, but with the sound of Peter huffing behind her and then, quite simply, walking past them without another word, that wasn't looking so likely. She wasn't sure where exactly the night went wrong, but she was cursing her decision to bring him up there. Maybe she just weirded him out for no reason.

At first, it was hard to focus on what Nicholas was saying, but when Harry made another appearance, things went a little more smoothly. One really nice thing about wealthy New York socialites was that you didn't have to struggle to fill the space with words - they did that just fine.

She was listening to one of Harry's "never-before-heard" stories on the 2nd story outside patio when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Liam didn't even wait before pulling her aside by her wrist, over to a corner of the beautiful interior garden.

"Think you might wanna come back any time soon?"

"Oh, what - you miss me?"

"About as far as I can throw you. It's not for me. It's for the birthday boy."

She looked away.

"I don't think he's very interested in my company."

Liam scoffed.

"He's barely mumbled two words the past hour. I don't know where you two went or what you did but -"

"We didn't do anything.", she scowled.

"Well, that's probably the problem."

"Excuse me?"

"You're not excused. You're making this way more miserable and drawn out than it has to be. Look: it's clear that he's too chicken to say anything, and I've lived with this long enough. I'm drowning in guilt, positively devastated, etcetera."

He took a break, sighing and pursing his lips.

"He's in love with you. He is wilting, downstairs, because he thinks you're sweet on a guy who could buy his life with spare change. And I'm sorry, but one of you is going to have to take the high road and 'fess up, because the alternative is Spider-Man moping for a week and getting hit by a truck. He's done it before."

She didn't even realize she was shushing him until her hand was over his mouth.

"Liam, what the fuck? What are you talking about?"

He pushed her hand off with an eye roll, but he didn't let go.

"You're really gonna act like you don't know? Damn, I bet you two thought you were being real sneaky, huh? I live with him. Of course I know. And I know you know, because you're so focused on protecting him, I don't even think you heard the first thing I said."

She did. She did hear what he said, but - yes. Liam was right. Protecting him took precedence, and it was almost an instinct at this point.

She was quiet for a long time before she managed to gather her words.

"He's been hit by a truck?", she asked quietly.

"Pff, yeah. He didn't tell me, but I saw it on TV. Later that night he comes home and tells me you went on a date, and I already had my suspicions, but that really sealed the deal. I honestly think the truck hurt less.", Liam recalled.

"Liam…", she whined sadly.

"You don't believe me? Look me in the eye and tell me you two haven't been playing this game for years. Everybody in our friend group knows. Everybody. Not the Spider-Man stuff, just about you two. I mean, I told Cindy, but -"

"Liam!"

"She's my girl, what do you want?", he defended.

Fucking hell.

"Oh my God, he's gonna freak out…", she muttered.

"Not if you give him something else to chew on."

"You're disgusting."

"I meant, information. Just tell him you love him. Make him happy. Come on, it's his birthday! What better gift can you get?"

She had an idea.

If she got over the shock of Liam's news, she could access her brain power in order to execute it.

Motioning for him to follow her, they left the garden without being intercepted and headed downstairs, but before they descended the last flight, she stopped.

"Ok. Is Peter still holding on to a little brown box?"

"Yeah. We’ve been asking what that thing is all night."

"It's my gift for him. I need you to get it from him."

"You want me to tackle Spider-Man? He won't just give it up.", he mocked.

"I want you to be discreet. Use your mind, not your muscle. You'll go downstairs, ask Peter for help because you just knocked something over and you can't lift it back up by yourself. You'll tell him to leave the box with Cindy and then I'll go get it from her. And when he asks, tell him she's outside. I got the rest."

Liam stared.

"Do you do this often?"

"I have to create diversions for him sometimes. So he can change into his suit."

"You two are just -"

"Alright, go. I'll wait up here, otherwise he's gonna hear me coming."

"What?"

She looked at him, confused.

"What?", she asked.

"He's - he can hear you coming?"

"Liam, he has super hearing. I'm honestly not sure if he hasn't heard us talking."

"..."

It took only a second to work it out.

"He's heard a lot worse than you and Cindy getting it on, I'm sure."

"I'm sure he's about to."

With another glare, she sent him downstairs and took care to hide inside an empty room and not make any noise. It took several minutes, but she soon heard Liam leading Peter upstairs, telling him how he messed up and couldn’t afford to go into debt for an ugly sculpture. Laying it on a little thick there, but it was getting the job done. Once she was sure the coast cleared, she exited the room and made her way downstairs, quickly locating Cindy and explaining the situation briefly. The blonde wished her good luck with a wicked smile, and thus she collected her jacket and the present and left the townhouse, thankful for the summer breeze and the silence.

She had maybe a few minutes to pull herself together and stop being a coward, but there were pins and needles in her arms and legs. She was going by what Liam had said, and even though she wanted to believe him, there was still a part of her that doubted and that didn't want to ruin a good thing.

Deep breaths.

This was Peter. A lifelong friend she couldn't help but love with everything she had, and if, for some reason, they wouldn't get together, then… they'd continue to be in each other's lives.

And sure, the rejection would sting, perhaps even singe - but she'd never give him up for the sake of not having to long for a romantic connection. She missed him terribly when he went away for a week's vacation; she'd never be able to distance herself from him for something so trivial as not having her feelings returned.

Deep in thought and further down the street as she was, she didn't hear the door open, so she startled and nearly dropped his gift when she heard him.

"Alright, you got me."

Turning around with a hand on her chest, she looked to see a sour expression.

"I'm not sure what that was for, or why you wanted to get me out here, but I'm here.”

With a quick plea to the universe, she bit her lip to wake herself up a little. This was it.

"I wanted to give you your gift.", she said slowly and softly, already tired of the tension between them.

Peter huffed through his nose, looking away.

"You took it back through some scheme so you can hand it over again?"

"No, I took it back to see if you'd go get it.", she said pointedly.

Peter looked back at her none too gently.

"What is this? What's with you tonight?"

He sounded hurt, and it solidified in her mind the desire to just get it over with.

"Nothing. I came here to celebrate my favorite person. I'm not sure where things went wrong, but I don't even care. I'm tired. It's exhausting, knowing you're upset with me. It's even worse knowing it's on your birthday, but I think I know how to make it right."

Closing most of the distance between them, she stopped a couple of feet away.

A fancy street in the summertime, wearing a dress for the first time in years just for him, holding a watch that cost the same as her rent… and yet, there was nothing she wanted to give him more than,

"Peter, I love you. I'm in love with you. This isn't how I wanted to say it, and honestly, I think I was so in love with the idea that you might say it that I never thought I could just… do it myself, if only to find out, finally…"

She felt out of breath, looking away. The rustling of leaves and the faint murmur from the house were the only sounds on the dimly-lit street. You'd have thought there'd be better lighting on the Upper East Side.

A small breath in attracted her attention, pulling her eyes back to him. What she found brought swift tears.

"I thought… that when I finally said it… I'd be sweeping you off your feet or something. I thought of a million ways to say it, but I didn't think I'd be yelling at you right before it."

"You didn't yell.", she corrected, voice shaky.

"I was mean."

"You were a little mean. But it's ok."

"It's not ok.", he shook his head.

"You can make it ok by not keeping me in suspense. I feel like my brain is melting.", she pleaded.

He made it to her in one step. His eyes seemed to be drinking her in, running over every inch of her face as he brought a hand up to the side of her neck. She forced her eyes to stay open.

"I've never seen this dress before.", was what he said - softly, as if he were telling her a secret.

"You haven't seen any dress.", she pointed out just as softly.

"Not recently, no. But I have an imagination."

Her breath got caught again, and that feeling in her chest expanded to just about everywhere. Such ease, the one with which he was reducing her to a shallow little puddle. She'd evaporate under the smallest hint of sunlight.

Her eyes fell closed momentarily when he brought his forehead to hers and she could breathe him in. It was just…him. Just Peter.

"Sweetheart… look at me."

So tender. So reverent. She thought she was dreaming, but his eyes were sparkling so brightly.

"Why have we danced around this for so long?"

"I don't know.", she whispered.

"Can't believe we got through college like this. Look at us."

She matched his watery smile and held back a sniffle.

"I'm actively losing brain cells here. Is that what you want?", she asked.

"I'm thinking. I don't know what to do first. I'm having a really hard time not kissing you."

The whimper couldn't be held back.

"You can do whatever you want.", she admitted, knowing just how true it was.

Peter shook his head lightly, brushing his nose against hers.

"Don't say stuff like that. It's gonna go to my head."

His breath on her lips was making her dizzy.

"Peter, please…"

"Don't say that either. That's worse. You know how that's worse, don't you?", he mumbled. He was so, so close.

Her heart felt like it would explode from his touch, his words, his scent. She'd crumble if he didn't -

"I love you. I'm in love with you.", he repeated back to her, lips nearly touching. She gasped against them when they did.

She supposed there was no time to waste on little pecks and tentative kisses after all the years they've dreamt about this, and she gladly welcomed the way his mouth devoured hers. With a mind erased and limbs going slack, it was hard to keep up, and she didn't even notice when her hold on the small box began to slip. She gasped again when she felt it drop from her hand, and even Peter's reflexes couldn't catch it, occupied as they were.

"No!"

Quickly parting from him, she bent down to get it, feeling like she was going to cry.

"Hey, it's ok. Whatever's in there, I'm sure it's fine. Why are you crying?", he asked, hands finding her face and wiping a small tear away.

"Because it's important.", she sniffled, looking the box over.

"Can't be more important than what we just did.", he added.

Looking at him, she saw just how sincere he was, eyes wide and a little glazed over. She fell in love again just from that.

"It's still pretty important. And I really think you should open it now."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Holding it out to him again, he accepted it, but not before stealing another kiss and mumbling a 'thank you' when he parted. Carefully pulling apart the elegant wrapping and handing it to her, an unassuming brown leather box was revealed, but to Peter it stirred memories.

"What is…", he muttered, lifting the lid from the middle.

His tiny gasp was adorable. She was also happy the watch was intact.

She studied his face carefully, growing more emotional by the second as she saw how his brows pulled together and his bottom lip moved without making a sound.

"Ben… Ben had one just like this. It's really beautiful. ", he said raggedly. She couldn't help smiling.

"I think you should look a little closer."

At her indication, Peter removed the watch from its cushion with care, giving her the box when she held out her hand. Looking it over, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to see, until he saw it.

Forever family,

Richie and Ben

"This is… I thought this was lost.", he whispered, eyes misty and wide, looking right at her.

"It was. I've been looking for it since June.", she replied gently.

"May told me he sold it at a pawn shop when the recession hit.", he continued, hands grasping at the watch delicately.

"Yeah, she told me that too. That's how I found it."

"Sweetheart, this must've cost a fortune. It's a vintage watch. I know it's expensive, because Ben only wore it a few times. How did you get this?"

She chuckled lightly.

"Is Spider-Man going to arrest me if I say I harassed the guy until he sold it to me? It wasn't technically up for sale."

"Can't believe it. My girlfriend is a criminal."

"Oh, your girlfriend is?"

His stammer was delightful, as were his cheeks - dusted pink the longer the question remained unanswered. It was clear he hadn't meant to let the title slip. She'd let him off easy… this one time.

"Well, as long as my boyfriend looks the other way when I commit crimes, I think I'll be ok."

The smile that lit up his face was worth the stars in the sky.

"You could take down New York, nobody could stop you."

"Yeah?"

He nodded, coming closer and taking the box from her, carefully handing her the watch and his left arm. It was hard not to melt at what he wanted her to do. With as much care as possible, she wrapped the band around his wrist, checking with him that it was properly fit before doing up the buckle. The watch fell right over the small marks left by his web shooters after years of wearing them, and there was a metaphor somewhere in there, but she couldn't find it.

"There you go", she mumbled.

"Thank you, baby."

She barely had time to register the pet name before he was kissing her again and taking her breath away with the intensity. It would take some getting used to, this unbridled show of affection that she's dreamt of for years, but they had years more ahead of them and a lot to make up for.

She was quickly learning that Peter, despite not being very practiced - at least from what she knew - was an excellent kisser, as well as a little more ignorant of basic needs like breathing than the average person.

She was almost panting when she found it in herself to pull away, while he was barely breathing a bit harder.

"What? D'you forget you were kissing a superhero for a second there?", he teased.

Glaring was less effective when one was trying to catch their breath.

"A cocky superhero, apparently."

The wrong thing to say.

"Baby, I'll show you - "

"Ey!"

She didn't even realize what happened when she found herself pushed behind him, covered almost entirely by his body - and then he relaxed just as quickly, moving back.

It was Liam, coming towards them with the world's worst smirk.

"Whoa, nice moves. Afraid someone's gonna steal your girl, Spider-Man?"

She balked. Peter was in shock.

"Liam!", she chastised, looking around the empty street.

Peter turned to her, eyes wide.

"You told him?!"

"Hey! Have a little faith - she didn't tell me anything. Do you really think you can just sneak out every night and I'm not gonna notice?"

"Seriously, Liam?"

"What? I thought we were confessing tonight. Did you kiss and make up?"

They sighed simultaneously, but had to confirm.

"Nice. So listen: when you get married, I expect my contribution tonight to be recognized."

"Your what? His what?", Peter asked, looking between them.

She shook her head in disbelief.

"Liam…"

"And I don't care what Osborn says - he didn't accomplish anything. It was still me, alright?"

"Explain?", Peter asked, at his wits' end.

"He didn't know where you were, so he asked me, because he thought he fucked up. That guy that was all over you? Osborn put him up to it. And he said something about making sure you were late, but fuck if I know why."

Neither her nor Peter said anything for a while.

Apparently, their friends were adamant that they quit their nonsense and just get together, and if even Harry - normally reserved, withdrawn Harry - was willing to get involved, that was enough to let them know they really waited a long time.

And though Liam was very happy taking all the credit, every one of their friends was delighted to explain their contribution at length when they went back inside, hand in hand.

The night continued in a different tempo, with intimate looks and tender moments, and enough teasing from everyone to last a lifetime, the cherry on top coming from Liam, as expected.

"Promise you won't wait another ten years to get married, yeah?"

Peter shoved his face in the cake later that night.

- fin -

A/N: Thank you for reading. Your thoughts and comments are always appreciated and cherished. I’d love constructive criticism from readers and welcome that also. Wishing you a great week ahead :)

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #fanfiction #spiderman x you #fluff #romance #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #andrew!peter x reader

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teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 3 years

Text

lesson

pairing: harry styles x reader

warnings: smut, masterbation, daddy mentions, heavy degradation and humiliation (lots of sluts and whores) but also some good girls !! teasing (so much teasing), orgasm denial/edging, choking, bondage, cum play (so also unprotected sex), pussy play (including spanks and cock thumping), pillow humping (for like a second), spitting, panty fucking, harry has a very dirty mind, please, only 18+ !!

word count: 6.4k

synopsis: he only has one rule, and she still can’t seem to follow it (or in which harry teaches y/n a lesson)

author’s note: hello! this took a little longer than i expected, so thank you for being patient with me! this is absolute, pure, unadulterated filth (absolutely no fluffiness about this—be proud for me) please, note the warnings and don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with anything mentioned above (that’s why i put them there :)) xx

masterlist

—

Y/N’s heart races in her ears as she scrubs at her hands, foamy soap slipping down her wrists in her haste. Harry calls for her downstairs, the front door slamming shut, shaking the house. She can’t find her voice just yet, traces of a stolen orgasm lingering in her tired body. The sheets are crumpled from her quick highs, and her legs are weak. She feels giddy, despite the odd numbness that seeps into her bones. She finally feels fulfilled after a long day of insatiable throbbing between her legs.

Clad in a simple tee and underwear, she steps out of their bathroom when he finally gets up to their bedroom. She dries her hands off, eucalyptus, mint, and other artificial scents lingering. She’s still catching her breath.

“Hey, babe,” she smiles, just like she does every time he gets back home, but there’s something behind it that’s unfamiliar, a devilish hint.

It’s her eyes that give her away.

They’ve been together long enough for him to know what she looks like after she comes, her shaky legs, dopey smile, and glazed over eyes. The mischievous glint is different, however.

“How was your—”

“How many times?”

“What?” She tilts her head to the side, brows furrowed innocently. It angers him; it actually makes his chest tight, and he has to bite his cheek to keep from snapping. She has the nerve to act as if nothing is wrong. Lip tucked between teeth, she steps forward, hands splayed in front of her. An unfamiliar feeling bubbles in his stomach. Not quite possessiveness but certainly close, this feeling is akin to lust and indignation, and it melts into a pool of gluttonous desire.

Normally, he takes a step back to collect his thoughts when he’s this emotionally invested, but it’s difficult when she looks so tempting, so divine, so satisfied. Fresh faced with a cheeky grin, she beckons him, imploring him to punish her, challenging him to ruin her.

He stalks forward, their gazes never faltering, until she falls onto the bed, still looking at him innocently.

“How many times did you make yourself come?”

His words bite, but she looks indifferent, the glazed look in her eyes taunting him. She doesn’t answer, but then again, she knows that she doesn’t need to. He cups her throat, so tender, pliable, and exposed, and he can feel her swallow thickly.

“I’ll ask again. How many times?”

She stares at him, jaw set and ready to hold her own. It’s different from her usual demeanor. No matter how bratty she would act, she easily fell into her submissive headspace, answering his questions obediently and listening to him eagerly. She doesn’t seem to want to break that easily today. Instead of her usual shy and shameful glaces at her hands, she sits up fully, looking him dead in the eyes, and grins, a twisted little smirk that makes his stomach curl and his cock grow thick. She wants to play a game, but it seems that she has forgotten that he is the one in charge. His fingers tighten around her throat, pressing into the spots beneath her jaw that leave her vision hazy.

“Only once,” she says sweetly, albeit weakly from her grip on her neck.

Lies.

He knows that.

She knows that he knows that, but maybe a part of her just wants him to piss him off.

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” he snaps. “How many times?”

His patience is wearing thin, and this game, this teasing, is getting out of hand. She thinks that she can have an advantage over him, while still playing the submissive. Someone needs to put her in her place.

“Almost three times,” she admits finally, sinking back. He finally lets go of her neck, and she holds the spot where his hand once was, vexing eyes yearning for his touch. He cocks a brow.

“Almost? Did I interrupt the third?”

“Yes,” she whines. That’s when he notices her thighs pressing tight together, and she shifts on the bed.

“Does daddy not please you, babylove? You need to touch your princess parts because daddy doesn’t make you feel good anymore.”

Filled with hurt, his words seem to get to her. The familiar docile look in her eyes slips in, and her lips sink into a pout. She’s drinking from the palm of his hand.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t touch you anymore—”

“No,” she cries, sinking further into her headspace. “But—daddy, you left this morning,” she says, her lips pouting.

That’s true.

The night before, she was his soft babylove, who just wanted to be as close to him as possible, be held and comforted and loved. That’s how he awoke this morning: warm with his cock soft inside her. He kissed her awake, as she deserved, and even though he felt comfortable simply being wrapped in her warmth, he needed to taste her. He was slow with his movements, languidly licking along her lips until wetness coated her thighs, teasingly sucking on her clit until she was trembling, wanting to build up the pleasure.

Admittedly, he had to rush out before she could finish and go to a meeting regarding his upcoming tour. He had quite the time trying to hide his semi for the better part of the morning.

“And I was feeling achy,” she continues rambling; the poor thing is close to tears. He feels for his pretty girl, he truly does, but he pushes that aside. A part of him feels hurt, like she couldn’t trust him to take care of her when he came home. Harry doesn’t ask much. She can be as bratty as she wants to, purposefully teasing him when they’re in public or refusing to do the simplest of requests, but he just asks that she let him take care of her.

She couldn’t even give him that courtesy.

“Don’t make excuses,” he scoffs. “I thought you were a big girl.”

“I am,” she promises.

“Big girls wait for daddy to come home and help them come,” he says, stroking her cheek. Tender touches mask his true intent. He suddenly shoves her back, hand tight to her throat once again, and she gasps, head tilting back into their pillows.

“Naughty girls touch themselves. Whores come almost three times at their own hand.” He grits his teeth. “Are you a whore?”

She doesn’t answer, but he can feel her heart racing beneath his grasp. A glimpse of a smile is enough to let him know that she’s fine; she’s enjoying herself, seeing him so riled up, possessive, and ravenous.

“Are you still wet? Achy?”

She nods.

“Whores get wet when they’re in trouble,” he says offhandedly. Her body quivers at the malice dripping from his tongue. “Arms up.”

She does as told, holding onto the headboard, eagerly awaiting his next demand. This is what she wanted, after all.

She has no idea what’s coming.

Usually, whatever punishment he gives her is what she also enjoys, from the occasional spanking to overstimulation. He usually has her coming until she can’t take anymore, until an ache seeps into the bliss.

Not this time.

He tugs her shirt up and over her head while his other hand fiddles in their bedside drawer. Moments later, a pair of silk scarves tie her hands to the headboard.

“Not too tight?”

She tugs on the restraints and shakes her head.

“Color?”

“Green.” She beams, breaking character for a moment.

Even if they were in the midst of a deep fantasy, he has always made a point to make sure she knows that it's alright to voice any discomfort and vice-versa; she often asks for his color whenever he seems to be overwhelmed. They both know how volatile headspaces can be, with the slightest changes making a huge difference in the experience.

He runs his nose along hers, lips tracing along the curves of her face, nibbling teasingly at her chin, down her neck, and grinds himself against her. He sucks on her breasts, biting at her nipples until they’re peaked. She closes her eyes, savoring every spike of bitter pleasure he has to offer. He sits back after a moment, appreciating the glimpse of light that catches her wet skin. He palms himself.

“It’s only fair that I get to come three times since you did. Make us even, right, lovie?”

“But I only made myself come twice.”

Y/N really has the nerve to talk back to him with her hands tied to the headboard, her body exposed to him, the only thing covering her modesty a flimsy pair of underwear. He cocks his head to the side.

“Should we make it four?”

That makes her hesitate, sinking back in the sheets. She shakes her head, cute pouty lips puckering. He would love nothing more than to run his cock along that pretty, dirty mouth, to feel her greedy tongue tracing the underside of him lazily, to wrap his hand around her throat and feel it expand as he fucks her face.

But he knows that she would enjoy it too much.

Too much for a punishment.

Harry traces along the curves of her features, from the slope of her nose to the round of her cheek, soft and lingering, a harsh contrast of what’s to come. He smirks. She parts her lips like a good girl when his thumb passes over them, biting it teasingly. He, then, drags it down her chin, leaving a trail of wetness in its wake.

He can’t help but think about how pretty she would look with cum and spit dribbling from those sinful lips, eyes barely able to stay open. Fucked beyond belief, she would moan his name and other incoherent thoughts oh-so sweetly, her voice wrecked. His grateful babylove, his lovely, satiated Y/N would whisper a soft thank you after taking him so well. He truly wishes he could do that, give her anything she ever desired, make her feel euphoria like never before, a high no one other than him can give her, but she was greedy and naughty and misbehaving.

And she needs to learn a lesson.

Now, he has to tease her, to bring her to the brink of orgasm, only to shatter her, again and again, until she’s on the brink of tears. She’s going to be left unsatisfied, trembling beneath him, while he brings himself to orgasm, again and again, until he’s milked himself dry. She will be grateful if he gives her even a bit of pleasure, but it is not enough to push her to the end.

It would never be enough.

He leans in close, his lips a fleeting embrace, just past her reach. He wants to taste her, but he needs to be patient.

A warmth buries her, and his overwhelmingly familiar scent swallows her, safe and comforting. She doesn’t know she’s even pulling on her restraints until her fingers are numb and tingly, yearning to feel his skin.

Maybe this was a bad idea, but it’s too late to turn back now.

“You can beg and plead all you want,” he says, “but know this: you will not be coming again tonight.”

Her eyes darken, and a satisfied little grin graces her pretty face.

She got what she wanted, tied up and vulnerable to him.

However, this isn’t her game anymore.

Now, she’s at his utter mercy.

“And if you do come, somehow, I will not touch you for a week; not only will you not feel my cock, my fingers, or my tongue, there will be no kisses or cuddles. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s my good girl.”

He unbuttons his shirt, slowly, diligently, his fingers lingering a little long on his inked stomach, knowing that she likes to take her time and admire that part specifically. After he peels the button up away, he finally sits next to her on the bed, his back to her. His belt falls to the floor with a clatter, and she holds her breath.

The silence is deafening, thick with tension. She waits, knowing that patience will help her. She also knows better than to say anything, since it would probably worsen her current predicament. Harry has always been level-headed, even in his dominant headspace, being very patient, especially in trying circumstances. He can take a lot before he snaps. She usually has to beg him to slap her, to spit in her mouth, or to fuck her so hard her legs give out.

This new persona is unpredictable, new, and alluring.

It’s different and all the more arousing.

She shifts, the bed frame creaking. A feeling of naughtiness courses through her, as it did earlier. She wants to see how much she can get away with and how far she can go before he loses control and puts her in her place. She watches him closely, her breathing ragged. She drags a pillow up by her feet, and Harry pays her no mind, perhaps assuming she’s just getting comfortable. His shoulders shift as he nimbly undoes the buttons to his pants, his back muscles tightening and relaxing. He begins taking off his pants, billowy and undoubtedly expensive fabric slipping down one leg at a time slowly, meticulously. The pillow now nestled between her legs, she grinds her hips down, wishing it was his thigh, the one with tiger on it, bared teeth and hungry.

He turns suddenly, and she’s caught yet again, but she doesn’t stop. Instead, she works herself harder, imploring him to stop her—to punish her. The pillow does very little to satiate the pent up tension between her legs, but it’s better than nothing.

Honestly, she knew he was going to catch her in her lies. That's why she made herself come right before he got home. She wants to get caught, the thrill of going against his rules giving her a high she’s still coming down from. And as he looks at her again, fury in his eyes, she could just fall apart. She wants him to put her in her place, punish her for being a naughty, filthy brat.

She wants him to ruin her.

“No,” he growls, ripping the pillow away and effectively knocking her legs back apart. He slaps her pussy with little warning. She squeaks, tugging at the silken restraints. A shaky, guttural moan shutters from her chest, deep and desperate, and her head falls back into the mattress.

“Fuck,” she cries.

The skin of her swollen pussy burns in the most addicting way, leaving her legs spasming, feet slipping down the sheets. She can feel his rings through her panties, just a slight sting, but her clit takes a brunt of the force, and perhaps, that’s what makes it so good.

“No moving.”

He rubs her soothingly, a stark contrast to the fire behind his eyes. Despite how bratty she’s been, her sweet, attentive Harry is still there, making sure she’s taken care of, comfortable, and safe. Her needy hips chase his fingers, a broken plea on the tip of her tongue.

Again.

He twists her panties with his index finger until her puffy pussy swallows them, the swell of her mound bulging from the tight elastic bands. He smacks her again, a little more gentle this time, but hard enough to still make her toes curl. She laughs through a breathy moan, her heart racing. He tsks, mumbling under his breath.

“This is your punishment. You’re not supposed to be enjoying it.” He tugs her panties up tight to her clit. “You’ll take anything I give you. Won’t you? I could spit on you and call you a bitch, and you’ll say thank you. Right, babylove?”

He delivers another resounding slap to her cunt, and then, another for good measure. This time, her back arches from the mattress, eyes rolling back. Fire licks her skin, and it hurts, no doubt, but in such a way that's indescribable; it burns, but it spreads throughout her whole body, and it makes her limbs tingly and warm, yearning for more. Again, he runs his hand along her exposed mound to ease the ache.

“Thank you,” she moans, and he smiles. He spanks her poor pussy raw, again and again, until his hand hurts and her arousal drips onto the sheets. Her thighs threaten to close, but she digs her feet into the mattress, aching for more pain, more pleasure, just more. Her world spins, but at the center of it all is him—striking eyes, teasing smile, and pretty lips—and he’s all hers.

“Taking it so well, pretty girl,” he says, moving to kneel between her spread legs. He can feel the wetness through her panties, and he nudges his head around where her clit is, still blocked by her useless underwear, her pussy visibly tightens with anticipation. He leans back, still close enough to feel the heat from her, and he slips his cock under her panties, the tight, elastic band pulling at his tender skin while her lips massage the underside. She’s wet, perhaps from her orgasms from earlier, but likely from the spanking. He thrusts, wrapped in soaked panties, until the tip of his cock nudges the fabric at the top of her mound, and he twitches when the underwear pulls at the sensitive head in a certain way.

“Such a naughty girl,” he moans, thumbs pulling at the fabric to wrap tighter around his cock. “I’m only fucking your panties, and you’re already soaked.”

He pulls out reluctantly, his cock heavy on her wet underwear. He spits on the fabric and spreads it over her mound, just to tease her little more. She tugs at her restraints and whines from the sudden cold.

A drop of saliva slips past his puckered lips, landing on his open palm, which now cradles his cock. He hasn’t resorted to jerking himself off in a long time; he hasn’t needed to, but he works himself easily, finding a calculated rhythm, fast then slow, quick, eager strokes along the head then long, languid strokes along the entire length. He sits on his heels, and his legs ache from the weight. Her thighs twitch, and she pulls at the restraints. His balls brush against her mound with every movement of his hand, and he swears he can feel her jump with every movement, so sensitive, so responsive. He fucks his fist, hips unconsciously bucking, wishing it is her warmth that coats him, squeezes him, and pulls him in. He yearns to touch her, to feel her smooth skin, but he knows that this lack of physical touch is as difficult for her to bear as it is for him, and that makes it a little better.

Her chest heaves with unsteady breaths, eyes fixated on his hand working his cock. She pulls futilely at the scarves, until her wrists hurt. She knows that she’s not going to be able to get out, but she unconsciously reaches for him. She’s not used to being so exposed, body vulnerable to his gaze, without having him touch her. Sure, their thighs are pressed tight together, but it’s not nearly enough.

This isn’t what she thought was going to happen when she broke his rules. Truly, more so than usual, this is a punishment: to see him work himself to orgasm without being able to touch him. She wishes she was the one to make him squirm, moan, and come.

“Please,” she whines, eyes pleading with him, and he knows what she’s begging for.

“What? You think I want to touch a dirty little brat like you?”

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m being mean? I came home, hoping to spend a nice evening with my good girl, only to find out that she broke my rule,” he says. “My one rule.”

He wishes it was her hand stroking him, eager eyes and tempting smile staring back at him. It would feel so much better than his own calloused fist. He feels himself tighten to signal an impending end, weak but an end nonetheless.

“I wanted nothing more than to come home and to have you come on my tongue more times than you can count, but you couldn’t be patient, and now, you have to take your punishment.”

She twists and squirms beneath him, her body undulating on the sheets. The need that tugs on her features is almost enough to break him, to make him give in and make his pretty girl come on his face, but then he remembers that scheming smile she had on her face, that devious look that made him rife with lust. He remembers that she was on this very bed by herself just before he got home, making herself come, her head thrown back, whining and whimpering. The thought brings the fire back.

He cups her cheek and leans forward, stretching her legs apart, and his cock rests just above her belly button, still cupped in his hand. Her tongue dips out of her mouth. His eager, naughty girl waits for him to spit in her mouth, to shove his ringed fingers down her throat, to do anything, but he pulls back again, and she frowns.

“How did you do it? Did you use your fingers, baby?”

She nods pitifully, and he hums, his strokes quick.

“Yeah? Bet they weren’t as good as mine.” He runs his thumb along the head, pleasure sending chills down his spine, trying to prolong his buildup.

“No one’s fingers will ever be as good as mine.”

He wants to prove it to her, to pound his fingers inside her until she can barely breathe, arousal gushing down his wrist as she comes until she’s crying. He wants to kiss her tears away as she begs for more. Perhaps, with all the teasing and build-up, he could get her to come with just one finger with one well-placed thrust. Her hips buck, and he knows that she’s thinking about that, too. After the stolen orgasm from earlier and the burning spanks her poor pussy received, she must be desperate for anything he’ll give to her.

His orgasm builds quickly, with his thoughts running amuck, visions of her, on her knees before him, choking on him until tears stream down her cheeks, on her back, moaning while he pounds into her, on top of him, grinding down on him, not letting up because she just loves the feeling of him deep inside her belly.

He comes on her tummy, a broken moan slipping past his bitten lips, spurts of his seed stain her pretty skin, and her breath hitches, shocked at the sudden warmth; then, she hums contentedly.

“There,” he sighs, admiring his work.

“Thought you were gonna come three times,” she says softly as he steps off the bed, sore cock heavy between his legs. His knees tremble.

“Open,” he coos, slipping his fingers in her mouth, and she sucks away the remnants of his orgasm. He smooths out her brow with his free hand, brushing away a bead of sweat that sunk from her hairline.

“Who said I’m done with you? No, I’m gonna go shower, and you’re going to stay there with my cum on your tummy and think about what you’ve done.”

He kisses her nose, just like he does every morning after loving on her. It’s a sweet gesture, one that doesn’t match his demeanor. He leaves her there, like he said he would, tied up as he moves to the bathroom, shoulders pushed back, self-assured and composed. Harry steps into the steaming shower, washing away the sweat from his skin.

Y/N whimpers in the next room. She has given up on tugging at the silk scarves; instead, she’s trying to ignore the insatiable throbbing between her legs, her arousal slipping out onto her thighs, like a greedy slut. His words ring in her ears, and it makes the arousal worsen.

She rubs her thighs together to alleviate some pressure, but it’s little use. Perhaps, if she tests him just a little more, he’ll throw away all willpower and ravish her until the early morning hours, but her resolve weakens with every passing minute. She wanted to tease him a bit, maybe get him a little mad, so he would put her in her place. She wanted him to fuck her to oblivion, until she can’t keep her eyes open.

This is a different kind of punishment, one she’s never even considered. In her fantasies, she’s tied up and vulnerable, but he lavishes her with touch until she’s overstimulated, drunk on him, his scent, his touch, his voice.

This is a different kind of punishment, a true punishment in her eyes. The teasing, lingering touches is enough to make her burst, and to have him there but just beyond her reach is near painful.

His cum has nearly dried on her belly, and she wishes he came inside her, stuffed full of his warmth; at least, then, she wouldn’t be so cold, so exposed.

She perks when he steps out of the bathroom, and he wastes no time straddling her hips, his cock twitching against her tummy. The weight of his body on hers is suffocating, her overstimulated senses taking him in, his warmth, his touch, his scent. She can feel every ridge of his body, every drop of water that slips from his clean skin, everything.

It’s almost too much all at once.

“Color?”

She blinks.

“Daddy, please,” she whispers, “want you to fill me up. ‘M such a greedy cock slut. I won’t even come, promise—”

“Y/N, I need you to tell me what color,” he says.

He doesn’t usually use her name when they’re this far into the fantasy, but it seems she needs it now.

“Green,” she breathes out. “Green, green, you feel so good, H. ‘M sorry I touched myself; I just couldn’t help it. Wanna make you feel good, please.”

“I wanna believe you, baby.” He cups her cheek, cold water dripping from his hair and melting into her skin. He takes her in, relishing in the sight of her craving, trembling, and begging for his touch. He likes seeing her on edge like this, dangerously close to teetering off into oblivion.

“But I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet.”

He traces the head of his red cock along the seams of her panties, like he did earlier, but this time, he tugs her underwear aside, mouth watering at the sight of her pretty, puffy pussy, surely sore from the spanking earlier. He spits on her, and he watches as it slips down into her most intimate fold. She’s so responsive to the slightest touch. He spreads her open, lips parted to reveal her wanton pussy. He tugs back the hood of her button, hard and throbbing.

He slaps his cock against her clit, the skin tacky with his spit. The slight, sudden touch is electrifying, and it makes his cock twitch, hungry for more. He can see her tighten up, and her hips jolt. Shivers trail from her spine to the tips of her peaked nipples. He thumps the head of his cock on her clit quickly, concurrent with every keen thrust of her hips, spitting in her every so often, leaving her wet and swollen and filthy, just like she is.

“Thank you,” she whimpers. “Feels so good, daddy.”

He teases the head of his cock just past her lips and nestles himself inside her finally, her warmth swallowing him easily. His eyes flutter closed, savoring what he so desperately needed.

She breathes out sharply when he stops with just the head inside her. This teasing is almost becoming too much.

“More,” she whimpers, “Please?”

He looks at her with fire in his eyes.

“No, you don’t tell me what to do. Besides, I don’t think you deserve my cock.”

She could almost cry. He’s so close, but he won’t go any further, just teasing her with what could have been. She tries to pull him in deeper, her walls tightening around his head. It makes his toes curl, burning pleasure forming in his belly. She tries to pull him in, aching for just a little more. He holds her hips down to keep her from moving.

“Please, I’ve been good. I said I was sorry for making myself come. I’ll never do it again, promise. Please, I just wanna feel you, daddy. That’s all I wanted today.”

“This isn’t about you anymore, babylove. You’re just daddy’s little fucktoy, my little cock slut.” He thrusts slightly, the tender head dragging along her tight opening, never pushing further. “And right now, I wanna hear you cry for my cock.”

Her feet trail up his legs, knees hooked at his hips, frantically trying to pull him in entirely. She tried to be good; she asked him nicely to just fuck her already. At this point, she doesn’t even want to come. She just wants to feel him, to alleviate at least some of the pressure throbbing between her legs. It’s humiliating because she’s near tears, desperate for his cock.

He came not even fifteen minutes ago, and he’s still sensitive. He pulls back until the head is nestled just past her entrance, muscles tight around the tip. He jerks off the base of his cock for more stimulation. A part of the pleasure comes from watching her squirm; she’s so desperate as she yanks at her restraints, hips thrusting and pussy clenching to pull him in deeper. It’s such an odd sensation, her entrance being fairly sensitive, but it’s not enough to stimulate her.

It’s never enough.

“Maybe you’ll come just by the feeling of my cum inside you.”

She honestly might.

The skin of his cock drags back and forth along her sensitive walls as he jerks himself off inside her.

“I bet you will,” he grins. “Just remember, if you come, I will not touch you for a week. Be very careful, Y/N.”

She wiggles pitifully, her arousal dripping down his shaft, and he uses it as lubricant.

“I bet your poor little clit is throbbing,” he teases. “‘M so sorry, babylove.”

He’s not.

There’s a wicked smile that splits his face.

He pulls out suddenly, making her gasp, and thumps his cock some more on her pussy, landing a particularly rough blow to the sensitive part of her exposed clit, puffy with arousal, the hood stretched back.

“Please, daddy,” she whimpers, “more. I’ve been good. I won’t do it again.”

He gives her some more, dragging himself along her fold in languid motions, circling around her clit before he thumps his cock on her pretty little button. She squeaks.

He stuffs himself inside again, just like before with only the head inside her. She groans, tightening up. It’s as if her body has a mind of its own, clenched and frenzied for any type of stimulation. She squeezes him so tightly, and she fights against his hold on her hips.

He comes shortly after, his body curling into itself like it usually does when he has a particularly strong orgasm, back arching with every wave.

Y/N moans when his cum fills her, reaching deep inside her, and her walls clench with need. It’s barely anything, but it’s still more than what he was giving to her before, and she could honestly come from that little bit alone. She’s trying to regain her composure, cunt still throbbing. He kisses her face, like he usually does after he comes, a gentle reminder that he’s still her Harry. He massages her waist, lingering down to her hips. They bask in each others’ warmth, trying to find the energy to move.

That’s normal for him, sweet and mushy and loving.

What she doesn’t expect is him tightening his hold on her hips and thrusting himself fully inside her, his cock still weeping out remnants of his orgasm.

She would scream if she could, but the breath is knocked from her lungs, choked moans passing through clenched teeth. Animalistic and brutal, Harry sets a quick pace, her entire body moving with the power behind his thrusts. Her mind is blank, and her body hums, pleasurable vibrations coursing through her body to every single nerve. She forgets that she isn’t allowed to come, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about the consequences just yet. Finally, she can taste the bittersweet euphoria, making her world dizzy as he fills her again and again. She could almost cry with utter relief.

Yes, yes, this is what she wanted—no, needed—and it’s even better than she dreamt. Her sopping pussy takes him easily, reaching the neediest part of her. She spreads herself further, angling her knees to her chest so he can pound himself deeper inside, cream dripping onto the sheets. Her legs are sticky with their shared arousal.

Harry’s face is flushed, brows furrowed as he loses himself in the feel of her. It’s been almost as torturous for him as it has for her; he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this frantic, never has he felt so desperate to plunge himself into her depths, never has he been so entranced, so sensitive to any touch. His head tips back, features twisted, chest bared, and teeth gritted. His breaths are weak, faltering and shallow. He groans as she tightens around him. Sweat drips down his chest.

“H? Color?”

It takes a moment to pull him back.

“Green, baby,” he says, smiling ever so slightly.

He’s never felt this before, this vulnerable yet powerful, on the verge of pleasure and pain, dancing along a tightrope threatening to snap at any second, such a thrill. He feels light headed, high off of her. He wants to feel her, embrace her, love her.

He rips at the knots around her wrists, fingers trembling, but they won’t budge, and he loses his balance, instead wrapping his arms around her arched back. He nestles his nose in her neck, pulling their chests tight together. She smells of salt and sin and sex, and he can’t control himself.

“So fucking good.”

He presses himself deeper, the head of his sensitive cock nudging the inmost parts of her. He fucks her easily with his cum spilling out with every hard thrust, leaving their connected bodies sticky. He can’t pull out much without his cock weeping with overstimulation, but he can’t stop, the pleasure all too addicting.

“Jus’ one more, lovie,” he whispers. “So close. Don’t you dare come.” He grits his teeth, rubbing at her swollen clit, subtly and just to make it throb, before his hands rest on her lower belly, thumbs connecting just below the button. He fucks into her harder, the bed frame shaking and smacking into the wall.

That’s when realization hits her.

She’s close.

She’s so close, one well placed thrust, one harsh stroke to her clit will push her over the edge.

But she has to hold it off.

His words ring in her ears in time with her racing heart, his threat of no intimacy sobering her. If she thought before was punishment, having to see him pleasure himself without being able to touch him, this is hell. Her orgasm burns painfully in her belly. It tastes so sweet. She clings to the silk restraints. She doesn’t want to give in, but it would feel so good; it would be a high that would leave her lightheaded for hours afterward, and shockwaves of pleasure tightening her muscles as a constant reminder.

She sobs, on the brink of breaking. Her hands tingle, drained of blood. She’s trying to relax, to breathe through the waves of euphoria that crash over her, and it works for a second, but with that, she opens up more, taking him deeper and more easily. That’s when the pleasure would shatter the calm in harsh waves. She closes her eyes, a drawn hum seeping from her chest. He grabs the back of her neck, using it as leverage as he fucks himself deeper into her, and she cries out.

“Look at me,” he demands. She does, barely, her teary eyes glimmering. He smiles, and she feels warm. “There’s my pretty girl. I’m almost there, just a little bit more. Doing so well for me babylove. Don’t come.”

“Please,” she moans, peering through her lashes. “Come for me, daddy.”

She lights a fire in his veins, sending a rippling feeling of ecstasy through his spine. His eyes roll back as he comes once again, his prick pulsating as he empties himself deep inside for a third and final time. Satiated, he grinds his hips against her, wanting to be as close to her as possible. She’s throbbing around him, legs trembling at his sides. She sighs, most likely out of relief but perhaps also out of frustration. As he nestles himself deeper, her lips tremble, features pinching as she tries to hold off an orgasm, clenching so tightly that his softening cock slips out of her. She moans.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing his lips sweetly to her sticky forehead. “You did so well for me, babylove. So proud of you.” Then again to her cheek. He traces up the backs of her thighs, hooking her legs around his waist.

“What did we learn?”

“Don’t touch yourself unless daddy says so,” she whispers, her voice dry. He nods appreciatively, eyes taking in her trembling form, and leans back.

Her thighs twitch occasionally at his sides, and he wants to bite them, skin surely sensitive to the slightest of touches. Sweat and cum and saliva paint her flesh, but the absolute masterpiece is her ruined pussy, swollen and wet and divine. He thumbs at her, gently guiding her lips apart to expose her pink inside, quivering with an insatiable need. He wants to lick up the cum that slips out of her, but she’s been through enough, the aftershocks of her stolen orgasms still visibly lingering in her sore body.

Another time, perhaps.

“That’s right, babylove. I think you finally learned your lesson.”

—

#enjoy nasties #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #ellie writes #ellie writes smut #ellie writes filth #never knew i would have to make a tag like that but #here we are #gif not mine #credit to owner

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dewdrop-writes · 2 years

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dumb thought that struck me this morning—

Celestia hasn't been mentioned much in sagau, i think? so let's assume The Creator has nothing to do with it.

but Celestia is curious, so it decides to send a... envoy of sorts; assigned to get close to you with the purpose of studying you, who has the entirety of Teyvat wrapped around your fingertips.

so like, everyone knows the trope of mc, despite having everyone else kiss the ground for them, falls for the one person that shows zero interest at all?

replace 'mc' with the creator, 'everyone else' with their devout followers from Teyvat, and 'the person' with said envoy. i wonder what'll ensue...

(i'm sorry of this doesn't make any sense! feel free to ignore this ask xjekxjjebznz i've only just recently delved deeper into sagau, so i might not understand the concepts just yet.)

This is not a dumb thought at all, anon! That is actually a really cool concept I quite enjoy - Celestia is something we know very little about in canon, so theorizing and exploring its potential is really interesting imo! Also don't worry about 'not understanding concepts', the SAGAU is an always expanding concept with multiple sub-aus diverging from the original idea, so new ideas and concepts are always welcome in my mind!

Messenger of the stars

Celestia - the floating powerhouse above all of Teyvat - looking down upon it with curiousity, but never really intervening. It saw the comings and goings of time, the changes in the world and its people, witnessing all of Teyvat laid bare below it.

It prided itself in understanding all of the world below it - understanding and knowing more than anyone below could ever hope to.

That being said - it had a lot of trouble understanding you. The Creator, as the people of Teyvat would refer to you as. Under your spell, they became puppets dancing in the palm of your hand, eager to please, ready to do anything, to give anything to even feel the slightest of your touches.

It watched your descent upon Teyvat in passing intrigue, noticing the way Teyvat itself bloomed in your wake, each living creature eager to find peace and happiness in your presence.

Mortals and immortals alike bowed down to you, erecting monuments, palaces - all in your name.

It was a curious sight indeed.

Celestia was not something that appreciated being left in the dark - so, it sent down a scout, an envoy - to research the phenomenon that was...well, you.

The envoy had only one goal in their mind - to fulfil their duty by infiltrating your closest circles and see what made you tick. What pulled every being in Teyvat down to their knees before you, eager to serve and to please.

They watched from a distance, at first. Observing how even the fiercest of gods - Morax himself, became but a lowly servant vying for a crumb of your affection.

They watched the intricate social circles formed around you - the childish things they'd hold above each others heads - the little 'victories' they taunted each other over.

"Their Grace allowed me to hand them their food today - their fingers brushed against mine."

It was - quite frankly - a bit ridiculous, the pedestal they placed you upon - high up and unattainable. Not to mention the protective guard dogs they were willing to become - all in their ideal to protect you from the slightest of harm.

Eventually, they got to work in worming their way through the social circles. First - acquiring a lowly and humiliating job of cleaning up around your abode - one of many - never allowed to even near the Almighty Creator. But it was a start.

Slowly, they built their way up the ladder - perhaps occasionally using the powers granted to them from Celestia above to aid them. Still - their goal was never to do things fairly - it was only to observe you closely.

They took note of the loneliness upon your face despite the hoards surrounding you in hungry swarms, all eager for a piece of you. Your attempts to engage in games - or any fun activities such as that seemed to dwindle, and soon enough you simply went with the tide, allowing it to carry you wherever.

That's when the envoy took their cue to slide in to the rescue.

"Your grace, you look quite lonely on this fine night" they approached the topic with a quiet slyness akin to that of a predator, catching you when you finally had a moment to breathe.

You shrugged, staring out the window at the beautiful gardens below - all designed to fit the image of perfection in another attempt to win your favor.

"Perhaps you would like to be (Name) again, once in a while?" they asked.

That caught your attention, all like they figured it would. Their research was already paying off.

"What did you call me?" you asked, surprised - yet not angry - no. Excited.

The envoy realized their job of becoming close to you might be easier than they thought.

They managed to treat you differently - like a person instead of a God. They were cruel, at times - keeping you on your toes with giving you attention, and then yanking it away - making you dance upon their palm. Their interstellar aura of glimmering stars was a mystery - and you were amused by the game of cat and mouse they had set up for you.

Soon enough, they kept you company most times despite the many protests of your acolytes who attempted to pin any wrongdoing upon them.

Perhaps they had a speck of dust (stardust, in fact), but dust nonetheless, on their clothing. That made them a slob in your acolytes eyes - someone who should not be allowed to taint the purity of their God.

But you silenced them quickly and sternly - calling them your friend of all things. Perhaps it stirred a little something in what part of them wasn't as dedicated to their mission - but they refused to acknowledge it.

They continued to observe you - occasionally throwing you a bone and entertaining you, all to watch your reactions.

But they could not understand what made you so godly in everyone's eyes. They couldn't deny the fact that every particle of Teyvat bent to your will, so clearly you were no imposter, but what exactly were you, then?

You might let it slip in conversation - how this had all been a game to you in your home world - how you controlled the characters and explored the world through them as your vessels. Perhaps you delved into the details here and there - mentioning the lore - or the ratings of both items and characters. It was of great interest to the envoy - information that shook even Celestia to its core.

Perhaps, indeed, they knew less than they prided themselves for.

Eventually, perhaps, you made moves to express your interest in them - something that would have any other follower of yours kissing the ground before you and weeping tears of joy - something they did not express.

They never outright rejected you either, mind you - but they did not bow down to you so simply either. And in a world where everything was delivered to you before you could even voice a wish for it - it was fun. It was exciting. And it drew you in more.

This is basically just a jumbled mess of ideas, but I'd quite like to explore this envoy character and the Creator's relationship to Celestia. Would they eventually begin to see the Creator and revere them as all of Teyvat? Would Celestia attempt to get rid of competition for the title of Higher Being™️? Who knows ;)

#genshin impact #genshin #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin x reader #sagau celestia's envoy #genshin envoy au #miiiight write more abt this if i have ideas #or if any of you do feel free to add to this

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sukunasun · 2 years

Note

What if gojo had a fated mate?

don't do this to me...no but..omg...he'd be torn in two. as easy as it is to strip a piece of fabric down the middle, one half of gojo would contemplate why like of course this happens because nothing in his life hasn't already been set out and destined. gojo was born into this world with a bounty on his head, since he took his first breath, nothing has been for his own, of his own. not even his own love life. and on the other half, he's pissed. furious and raging, what kind of a sick joke are the gods playing, they make him out to be untouchable, unlovable, and then bind him to someone and call it fate? who would be so miserable as to suffer being the soulmate to one like him. he is not meant for it he thinks, he can never put someone through the calamity that is being in love with gojo satoru, and yet to have a fated mate seems to be the final nail to the coffin, it is the one thing that breaks him down.

and i think gojo has known about it from the start. it's why he had a feeling geto had one too, which makes their friendship much more meaningful to him, to know that someone else shares the same experience as he does. but geto's actually...happy about it. his best friend had gone along with it and spent years avoiding ruts and waiting it out. to think that he'd survive staying celibate without the help of suppressants, gojo wouldn't be able to do it.

not because he couldn't but because he thinks of it as rebellion. he initially goes into ruts with the intention to never bond with any of them, never leaves a bite or a scratch, his hands always hovering above their skin. then surprisingly finds that he can't knot in any of them and it dawns on him, he goes cold when the realization hits him.

and he's also starting to lose interest when his ruts start to feel a lot more of a hassle, starts to feel like he's cheating. he's losing control to a person who he has yet to meet, one who apparently has a hold over his life and it's all because it was just meant to be?—he comes to resent it all the more. it's so unfair, so humiliating. tells himself that if he ever found his fated omega, he'd do all that he can to avoid them, never taking in their scent, won't even look them in the eye. gojo would make it so that fate wasn't going to get its way. he'd beat destiny, he'd have something of his own.

#i can't with this...gojo's feelings are my feelings too...#like he rly believes himself to be undeserving but honestly he's just holding himself back from being vulnerable ...#gojo satoru #gojo satoru hc #alpha gojo #ask #anon

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bokuroskitten · 3 years

Note

your piece about oral fixation was just 🤤 so now im super curious as to what kinda of gags you think the haikyuu captains + iwa would use on their partners.

oh anon, truly I'm grateful for this one. Because as a rope bunny, I think about it constantly. I didn't do every single haikyuu captain, just ones I feel I know the best. Enjoy the filth. ❦

ℌℭ❦

〈what kind of gags would the haikyuu captains (Bokuto, Terushima, Ushijima, Oikawa, Daichi, Kuroo, Kita) + Iwa enjoy using on their partner.

⋆genre: 18+ NSFW (Minors DNI)

⋆warnings: BDSM themes (use of bondage and gags), dom/sub dynamics (daddy & master title used), oral (female receiving), spit, degradation & dumbification

Bokuto couldn’t be bothered with gags. He likes to hear you falling apart on his cock, the whimpers, the cries, the begging. It’s all music to Bokuto’s ears. Although if you do want to be gagged Bokuto just uses his thick fingers down your throat or slaps his palm across your lips. Both methods effectively render you silent and he still gets the joy of feeling your moans vibrating along his skin.

“You’re so fucking loud, Birdy. The whole neighbourhood is gonna know you’re a desperate little cock whore. Isn’t that right baby Bird?” Bokuto’s voice was nothing but a growl up against your ear, his heavy balls still slapping ruthlessly against your ass as he plunged himself faster into your tight cunt. He went in at the perfect angel this time, his cock head pressing to that sweet spot that would have you screaming. Before the sound could slip out Bokuto pushed three fingers into your mouth, grinning as he watched drool bubble between his knuckles, your cries getting muffled into his skin.

“Yeaaa, suck away baby and take what’s given to you.”

⋆⋆⋆

Terushima is a horny one, typically just wants to get the job done quickly and easily, so he likes to use what’s around. This typically means he’s using his tie. He usually wears one to his job, or sometimes finds himself keeping a spare in his back pocket when you’re being extra annoying. He always ties a knot in the middle first, pressing it between your teeth before knotting the material behind your head. It’s effective enough to keep you muffled but simple enough that he can still see your lips tremble, watch drool darken the fabric and dribble down your chin.

“Careful princess, you want the boys to know I’m stuffing you full of cock?” He spoke through a wicked grin, his lips pressed to your pulse as his hands held your hips in a death grip. The subtle slap of your ass into his pelvis kept him on beat, along with the muffled cries you let out into his tie. One of his hands slithered up your bent form, making sure to squeeze one of your breasts on the way up before taking hold of your jaw. His long fingers brushed over your chin, the drool already gathering there making him pick up his pace. He pressed the knot he made in his tie further between your teeth, making you whimper a plea that had him chuckling.

“Messy fuckin thing, by the time I fill you up there’s gonna be a mess on your face and between your thighs.”

⋆⋆⋆

Ushijima is a simple man with simple desires. Despite that, he actually enjoys using a gag on you because it gives him even more power over you than you already give him. He typically won’t use one unless other BDSM elements are in play (his favourite is ropes because he likes to make intricate patterns over your skin) but his favourite type to use is a deep throat gag. In every sense of the word, Ushi is big and wants to make sure your tight little throat is ready to be used when he wants it to use it. There’s a couple of different sizes he uses that he has you build up with, but each one comes with a reward when you’re able to swallow it down without gagging.

Although his face was usually calm during sessions today was an exception as he worked the length of the gag between your lips. “Baby, tap out if you need to—“ But you just furrowed your brows at him, fists tightening in determination which were currently bound above your head. It was a sign for him to keep going, so he did. He pushed the slick silicon between your lips until the hilt rested against your lips. He didn’t do up the leather strap just yet, waited to see if you’d gag or choke with such a big size being shoved down your throat. But there you were, sitting pretty with tears riming your lashes, the gag pressing snuggly down on your tongue. Ushijima hummed out, pleased with such progress as he was slow to buckle up the leather strap. He pressed kisses along your jaw, a small smile creeping its way onto his lips.

“I’m so proud of you, little one.”

⋆⋆⋆

Oikawa will only use ring gags because it keeps your mouth wide open and ready to use whenever he feels he needs it. Plus it allows for him to still be able to hear you when you moan and cry for him. He also loves the mess you make with a ring gag, helpless to the drool and bubbling spit that falls from your chin. Sometimes as a form of punishment he’ll leave you between his thighs, arms bound and a ring gag held snuggly between your lips. He’ll stroke his cock lazily while watching tv, only grabbing a fist full of your hair to shove that sloppy mouth of yours onto his cock when he feels the need.

The whines you let out are ignored completely by Oikawa, a little huff leaving his lips as his eyes slowly slip from the screen down to between his legs. There you sat, eyes wide and mascara streak marks down your cheeks. Your body was already trembling, sitting on your hunches for whenever Oikawa decided to take hold of your hair once more. He could see the way your tongue tried to pick up some of the drool that fell from the ring, only making matters worse as a new little stream of spit fell off your chin to continue to dampen your tank top. Oikawa just couldn’t help himself, and in one swift motion, his hips were pressing his cock back between the ring, burying deep within your throat that had it constricting. He hissed softly before a small flutter of laughter escaped him.

“Fuck, at least this fucking throat is good for something. Maybe I should keep this ring on all the time so you’ll always be ready for my dick? You like the sound of that baby?” He was only met by muffled whines and gags as he bobbed your head along this length.

⋆⋆⋆

Daichi hates when you talk back to him, it makes him so tense because all he does is treat you like his perfect little princess. So when you do get mouthy he has no problem getting you worked up whenever you are. He’ll tease, whisper into your ear about how naughty your being, grab handfuls of your ass until you make a mess of your panties. He’ll then shove the filthy material between your lips. Not only will get to humiliate you then, but he’ll also get to punish you properly without having to hear a single peep from you.

“You think good little girls talk back to their daddy’s like you do? No. They listen, and they behave. Since you wanna use such a filthy mouth I’ll keep it filthy for you.” Your previous cries were brought down to muffles as Daichi forced your damp panties between your lips. Balled up and soaked from your precious arousal you can’t even help but let your eyes flutter, the taste of your own desire making your cheeks burn bright pink. Daichi has to scoff, fingers pressing into your cheeks as giving your jaw a little shake. “Taste that? That’s your filthy little cum stains. Imagine staining your own panties from a few promises of punishment?” His cock was heavy as he quickly freed it from his boxers, making you Yelp softly as it slapped down against your already soaked slit. He rubbed it along you a few moments, pressing into your cheeks harder to keep your panties in place.

“Maybe if I just fuck you stupid, you’ll stop talking altogether?”

⋆⋆⋆

Kuroo likes to keep with the classics, and there’s nothing more classic than a ball gag. He started off with wiffleball first, wanting you to feel nothing but comfortable before he moved on to solid silicon, balls that would leave your jaw aching after sessions. He loved the way you looked, sitting on your knees for him on the bed with a bright red ball gag wedged in your mouth, already covered in spit. He would the type to put on you whenever you felt like it just so he could coo about how pretty you looked. He also took many many pictures of your mouth stuffed, keeping a secret folder just for it.

“Stay still kitten,” Kuroo mumbled close to your ear, pressing a couple playful kisses to your lobe as he secured the black leather behind your head. He slipped two fingers into the band, making sure it was loose enough to pull off if needed but tighten to hold. Once he was pleased he pulled away, the most satisfying groan leaving his lips as yours were stretched around the bright red. “Perfect, my perfect fucking kitten...” he spoke, his thumb pressing along the ball as you blinked up at him with wide, needy eyes. Your hands stay still on your lap exactly where he instructed them, a little whine coming out muffled only when Kuroo pulled away from you fully. He rose a brow at that, the flash of disappointment in his gaze enough to have you resting back down on your hunches.

“Ah, I said stay still, Kitty. I’ll play with you soon I promise. But Daddy needs a few pictures of his beautiful baby before we can get started. So keep sitting pretty for me.”

⋆⋆⋆

Kita only uses any form of BDSM with you because you’re interested in it. When you brought it up to him he was very much unaware but did as much research as possible. He decides to start off with a bite gag because, unlike ball gags, it allows for more relaxation of the jaw, as well as causes less mess in terms of drool. Plus he’s always enjoyed watching you bite down on the sheets when you're feeling a lot of pleasure, so the bite gag allows for him to watch your teeth sink on so perfectly into the rubber.

Kita’s thrusts slowed almost too much for you, your pussy desperately fluttering around his length to bring back that friction. You wanted to beg him to keep going, pick the pace back up but all you could do was let out muffled cries, press your teeth further into the bite forced between your lips. Kita watched it all, the way your face twisted up with need, the way your back arched, the way your hips jutted forwards in hopes to feel more of him. He just let out a soft little groan, planting a firm palm on your hip to keep you in place as he continued his slow, dragged out thrusts into your throbbing cunt.

“Just a little longer like this, kay Darlin? I love seeing you bite into that gag, we’re gonna have to use it more often.”

⋆⋆⋆

Iwaizumi was used to using his hand, slapping it over your lips when he found you were getting too loud. But he never knew what to do with all your squirming. Cuffs were too simple and ropes just weren’t his vibe, but when he discovered bondage tape it was a whole other ball game. Not only was it perfect because it only stuck to itself, resulting in safer play, but it was very much effective in shutting you up when he needed you quiet. His favourite part is watching you flinch when he rips a piece away from the roll, the way you shiver in anticipation as he hovers the piece over your lips. It only when you're about to whine at him that he presses it against your lips, a grin curling on his lips.

“Fuck Princess, you’re tighter than usual? Excited?” Iwaizumi murmured, his grin growing as he watched your eyes roll up in pleasure. He brought a large palm up to your cheek, bringing your blurry vision back to his own. His thrusts slowed, allowing his thick cock to drag along that throbbing spot within you. That had your back arching, muffled little pleas melting into the tape that was held firm over your lips. Iwaizumi sighed softly, his thumb rubbing over the tape to feel out the outline of your pretty lips. The action had you nuzzling into his palm, another string of muffled nonsense trying to escape the tape and failing miserably.

“I know you’re begging me to move faster under here... but remember princess, Master makes the rules. So let’s keep you quiet and I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow.”

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haitanic · 3 years

Text

Poly Relationship With KamiShin

I adore the idea of being in a relationship with these two, I just think it would be so good and I love them both so much. This ended up being way longer than I had planned but I could have kept going so I’ll probably write more like this.

Masterlist

SFW above the cut, NSFW below

SFW

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence? (the boys being protective of you/defending you)

This relationship would just be one big meme

You and Kaminari clowning together

You and Shinsou laughing at Kaminari’s dumbassery

Until it goes to far and you realize he’s going to hurt himself and you both frantically go “nOooO DeNKi!!!”

Pranks

These two are in a prank war and you are on both teams

So it’s basically just you messing with both of them

They’d pull pranks on you too but it would always be really little silly things, never to the extent they’d do to each other

Neither of these men sleep

Please god make them go to bed

I mean if you’re someone who also stays up all night then oh god this is just a disaster, the three of you will never sleep

If you’re someone who goes to bed at a reasonable time please drag them with you

I don’t think it would be hard to drag them to bed honestly, they’re both way to soft

Like if they were gaming together but you wanted to go to bed, they’d try to say they were going to keep gaming but the second you say please and ask them to come cuddle you the controllers are on the table and they’re crashing into bed with you (simps)

They literally can’t say no to you

With anything, literally anything you want is yours

These men adore you and want to take care of you

Truly just two men that I hc as drinking there respect juice

But it’s more than that, like more than respect, it’s adoration

I think when they get into a relationship with someone the feelings are strong, to share themselves with someone like that they’d have to love and trust them so much

They’d spoil the shit out of you, but you better do the same for them

And when I say spoil I don’t mean spend a bunch of money, just bring them little things and do cute things

Like bring Shinsou coffee and Denki snacks

Give Denki a $1 Pikachu sticker and tell him it reminds you of him

Show your love with memes, they will cry, you’re too perfect

Send Denki silly memes and go “dis u?” he’ll love you so muchand think its so cute

Send Shinsou cute, lovey, cat memes, like meme of a little kitten with a sappy message over it

They’re both definitely very teasing S/Os, like you’d all just be making fun of each other constantly but it’s with LOVE

Consensual bullying

But they’d never comment on something you’re actually insecure about, they know what’s too far and they’d never go there

(If you’re like me and someone who likes to be affectionately teasing with S/Os and friends please make sure you have boundaries established and you know what is ok to tease about and what actually hurts, communication y’all, ok back to your regularly scheduled programming)

I’m gonna be honest, y’all would eat so much takeout, neither of them can cook for shit

actually that’s a lie, Shinsou can cook, he just doesn’t want to

If you can cook and enjoy it please make them meal at least a few times a week

Please teach them healthy habits

Make them go to bed, make them go outside, force feed them veggies and water please just take care of them because they don’t know how to

I mean don’t force them. like please don’t try to change them, but express your concern about their unhealthy habits and try to help if that makes sense

Ok but they are so protective, anyone who tries to mess with you better be prepared to catch hands

They’d both be so goofy with you but if anyone tries to mess with you they are stone faced in a second and ready to rock someone's shit

You are perfect to them and they won’t let anyone say otherwise

Oh and if someone said something about the three of you being together, god help them

Actually don’t, no one help them, they deserve it, not sorry

The cuddles are IMMACULATE

The positions are always changing but it’s always so good

You in the middle either with both of their heads on your chest or facing one and being a little spoon to the other

Shinsou in the middle with both you and Kaminari resting your heads on his chest, you and Kami would be holding hands and you’d all just alternate giving each other little pecks

Kaminari in the middle facing Shinsou with you big spooning him... yes please

You all just want to make sure you’re all happy, it would be so supportive and goofy and just happiness

This relationship feels like sunshine

NSFW BELOW THE CUT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+.

NSFW

Warnings: dom/sub themes, degradation and praise kinks, sadomasochism and pain kinks, vouryerism, overstim/edging, literally just fucking flithy y’all

Please note that the things I headcannon only apply if it’s something you consent to.

oof

oh god

This is gonna be nasty

But so good

I’ve seen different people say different things but my personal opinion is that Shinsou is a dom (a hard one) and Kaminari is a switch

And yes, Shinsou calls you both his kittens, you cannot change my mind, I don’t care

So there’s a few different ways I see things going

So if both you and Kaminari are feeling like bottoms then Shinsou will gladly dom you both at the same time

Shinsou definitely has a vouyer kink so he would instruct you and Kaminari on what to do to each other while he jut watched his kittens play (stop that felt so filthy to type aaaa)

Once you were both completely worn out then he’d finally step in and have his way with you both

Like I said, he is a hard dom, definitely sadistic

Honestly he’d use telling you and Denki what to do to each other as a punishment, making you overstim or edge each other till neither of you can take anymore and are begging and/or crying

Then he’d come fuck you both into the mattress

This man is going to completely and utterly demolish you (if you’re ok with that of course)

He’d be praising you both but in a way that feels so dirty, he’d degrade you both a bit with words but I think it would mostly be praise, the degrading/humiliating part is what he does to you/makes you do to each other

He’d definitely be pretty rough with both of you (always only if you consent), he’d be manhandling you guys, just throwing you around, pulling hair, choking, a little slapping if you’re up for it (I definitely think Denki is just saying)

But don’t get me wrong, he also knows how to take care of his kittens

Like he can be so soft and giving with you as well, when the situation calls for soft sex this man will give you that and he will give it so good

Just the most gentle, loving praises and soft holds and eye contact and love

Ok, next situation Shinsou and Kaminari both wanting to dom you

ok wait cause there’s actually two ways that could go, if Kaminari is feeling switchy but leaning towards dom then it would be kinda similar to the first situation, with Shinsou telling him what to do to you but he’d just be more dom with it himself and he’d still let Shinsou dom him a bit but not full on, like they’re both domming you but Shinsou takes the lead

Ok but if Kaminari is feeling full dom then god help you

I hope you have the day of tomorrow

Because Kaminari as a dom is also one sadistic mother fucker

I absolutely headcannon Kaminari as being hard and sadistic when he’s domming (I mean he’s a little fucking masochist when hes a bottom)

But yeah if it’s something you’re ok with then these men are going to destroy you

I really can’t stress how ruthless they are when they’re domming together

You’re going to get whiplash from these two because one of them is degrading the shit out of you while the other is telling you the kindest praise

“Look at you, such a filthy little whore for us to use”, “You’re so beautiful, doing so good for us baby”

But you never know which ones going to say what and they’re constantly switching roles

Yeah you’re about to get your shit rocked, there’s no other way to say it

Honestly you’re going to be barely conscious by the time they’re finally done

Alright, last variation is you and Shinsou domming Kaminari

Pretty similar to when he’s domming you with Kaminari but y’all switch places

Just demolishing little subby baby Denki

I talk about how much of a little subby baby he is in my nsfw hcs for him

As much of a sadist as he is when he’s domming completely switches to masochism when he’s a sub

He will cry and beg and he loves it, he will literally beg you two to hurt him like a whiny little boy

Baby just wants to be completely destroyed and fucked out

Gee, can you tell I’m a switch

Regardless of how it goes down the sex would honestly be so good because both of them are very giving partners

I mean don’t get me wrong, they’re gonna tease the shit out of you, but they’re both very focused on making sure all three of you feel amazing

The aftercare, oh god the aftercare

Always so cute and sweet

Doesn’t matter who topped and bottomed

Cuddles and words of affirmation for all of you, just all three of you giving and getting love

If any of you are in subspace or roughed up or out of it or whatever then whoever isn’t will give you everything you need whether that's a hot drink or a nice bath or some lotion or whatever

You all just take such good care of each other because this is a relationship built on mutual love, adoration, and respect

This got a little out of hand, much longer than I thought it was going to be, my bad.

#shinkami #kamishin #shinsou x reader x kaminari #shinsou smut #shinsou hcs #shinsou imagine #kaminari smut #kaminari hcs #kaminari imagine #poly bnha #bnha hcs #bnha smut

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slashingdisneypasta · 2 years

Text

Candy Pop x Immortal!Reader || Oneshot

Title: The Earth is Spinning; We Can’t just Stand on It Anymore

Notes:

‘Come on, dance with me. The earth is spinning. We can’t just stand on it.’

Inspired by the above quotation by Dino Ahmetovic (Theirs also a little ‘ atop the c in ‘Ahmetovic’ but I can’t figure out how to get it there, so my frustrations and apologies), which I picked at random from the quotes folder and then randomly picked Candy Pop with Wheel Decide. This should be fun.

I really, really tried to keep this gender neutral, but you know how the 1400’s to… uh… now…, are with gender specific titles. There’s not much I can do about that /: Modern times will have more gender fluid personal pronouns though of course (:

Jess christ I've been writing this one for a year. I'm so happy with it ^^

Plot: All the times Candy Pop asked you to dance over the years, and the one time you asked him.

Warnings: Possessiveness in the second bit, some violence (You hurt Candy Pop to get away from him), description of bitten down nails, HISTORICAL INNACURACY

1435

“Excuse me, sir, but I’ve decided to retire for the evening. It’s been a wonderful ball.” The robust man in a ridiculously ruffled collar - really, the damn thing tickles his nose. I’ve been counting how many times he sneezed tonight, and he’s reached astronomical amounts of achoo’s, - before me nods, a flicker of a smile across his tired lips. The poor man looks like he longs to retire himself, but there are still at least 30 other guests still going strong thanks to the ale. A half-concerned smile comes to my lips, which used to have lip gloss spread across them but now due to inhaling the hors d'oeuvres and the wine going around the room- yet another reason to go back home, - it’s all but gone. “Thank you for the invitation; No one throws balls like you do. Goodnight.”

“Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“You as well.”

As I’m turning around to head for the wide open, grand double doors, the target totally obvious because of the juxtaposition between the pitch-black outside and the golden, lit up walls inside the ballroom, a foot cross-collides with mine and I’m not of quick thinking enough to stop and manoeuvre around it- before I’m gracelessly twisting my ankle with an undignified ‘Oof!’.

“Oh no!”

“Pop! Look what you- “

Rudy, the man throwing this shindig and who I was just talking too, was kind enough and quick enough to lurch forward and stop me from smashing my face into the marble flooring. Flashing him a nervous, thankful grin, I straighten back up slowly and wait for my heartbeat to slow down again… before the man I’m assuming caused my trip, pops up right in front of me. It honestly takes me a good moment to hear what he’s saying, because all my focus is taken by the colours all over him and his hair, and his make-up and… everything. He looks mad. Who is this??

“- And, again, I’m very sorry!! Is your ankle okay? -Hello?” As I’m getting used to his unusual look, he looks to Rudy, still holding my hand and my waist, his eyebrows knitting together. “Did they hit their head on anything? They’re a bit unresponsive-”

“Uh- no! I’m fine, sorry. I’ve just never seen anyone with such amazing hair before.” Finally gathering my bearings enough to not need Rudy’s help, I flash him a little ‘thank you’ smile and he nods back, letting go immediately and returning his hands to his sides. I widen my grin and look at the jester who tripped me to reassure him that its fine. Because it is! It’s not the first time I’ve embarrassed myself like this at a party, and it certainly won’t be the last. Lord, I hope tripping becomes less of a public humiliation sometime in the future… “No, its fine. I should have been looking where I was going!”

“Oh, good. My sister’s still going to be beating me up over tripping you for the rest of the week- I hope that gives you some kind of peace of mind!” A tinkering laugh comes out of him, and I’m struck again by how pretty his- even more so when he laughs. A girl appears beside him, and she looks just like a narrower version of him except with 4 aqua ponytails instead of 3, wide hips and a swollen chest. The costume is also a little different, to accommodate for a different body type. The male takes my attention again quickly though, all too easily. He smirks at me, twisting some of that aqua hair around a long white finger and venomously purple painted nail. Evidently, pleased at my compliment. “And thank you, about my hair.” I smile back, cheeks warm.

The girl raises her eyebrows at her brother, before turning to me and nodding seriously, successfully distracting me from the possible flirt that her lookalike sent my way. Fortunately. “I will- beat him up, that is.” She assures me, hands on her hips.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that!” I laugh along with them, relieved to finally find some similarly humoured folk at this ball finally. Rudy is lovely, but he’s just as bored as I am, and two wrongs certainly do not make a right. After a moment, my smile vanishes, and my eyes widen. “Ah- Sorry! I haven’t introduced myself! I’m Y/N L/N, an old friend of Rudolph.”

“Agh, Y/N. My name?” Rudy steps up beside me again, a sour look on his face as he takes a drink from the server passing us and takes a nice big gulp of it. His florid features get even redder, as he shakes his head at the flavour and the rest of us just watch the silly man. His name isn’t that bad! … Alright, well, maybe it is. “God… “After a second, he shrugs his shoulders back and regains his usual air of… well, definitely not indifference… More like lesser crankiness. Yes, that’s it. “Y/N, these are the court Jesters I was allowed to hire for the night. Candy Pop- The male one, and Candy Cane- The female one, they wouldn’t tell me their real names, which is fishy… “

“Well, a magician never reveals her secrets.” Candy Cane winks, taking a wine for herself and winking at Rudy when he drops his jaw at her general boldness. For hors d'oeuvre and drinks were certainly not for staff working the party, but Rudy quickly blushes and lets it go. I smirk at that- such a sucker for a pretty lady. Quite a pair, these two are. “Well, I apologise having to leave so quick, but I see an unfortunately glum looking bunch over there, and it’s my creed to entertain, so I bid you all adieu. Pop, I’ll see on our rounds?”

“… Yeah.” Pop’s mind seems to be off with the fairies though, looking at me.

My cheeks feel hot under his gaze as Candy Cane looks suspiciously from her brother, then to me, before giggling, waiving to Rudy and heading off towards a group of party-goers at a table looking bored out of their minds like Rudy and I were. Rudy quickly scampers off as well, to his wife Matilda who’s getting a bit close and personal with a Duke. This leaves Candy Pop and I, and we’re still just assessing each other.

I’ve never felt this way just being near a man before. Sure, I’ve felt feelings like love and lust, but nothing so deliciously wrapped into one. I don’t believe in love at first sight, not because its poppycock but because it’s dangerous, so I’m honestly wary in this moment that I’ve found it.

Hopefully not. Hopefully this is just the wine and the ale I’ve been meticulously sipping through the night.

He’s so pretty. In an unapologetically roguish way. Beautiful colours, and shapes, and lines… but also a mischievous and fun aura, and it just makes me want to… misbehave.

“So, I don’t think I’ve properly made it up to you for tripping you. Would you delight me with a dance?”

The word ‘misbehave’ bangs around in my head, reminding me that I was about to go home as an escape tactic, in case I was leaning towards taking up his offer… which I am…

Then suddenly the spell is broken. Because I remember. My cheeks heat up even more when I remember… that I- I, I have a husband/wife. I’m married.

God. How could I forget about Terry??

Quickly, I straighten up as I realise that I had relaxed towards this man, and raise my hand in front of my shoulder instead into his waiting palm. An apologetic look breaks across my face that was just a moment ago, mirroring his. “I… uh… sorry. I have to, r-regretfully, uh… “God, this has put me out of sorts. What was I saying? “Refuse. Yes. Sorry, again. My consort will be expecting me at home, um… “I take a deep breath, made clipped by how Candy Pop’s eyes widen and his big hand snaps back to his side, dejected. I could very nearly see his heart break into two jagged pieces inside his pupils. Jesus. “I bid you goodnight. Uh, enjoy the rest of the party, and don’t let Rudy skimp on paying you. G- Goodnight.”

He doesn’t get to say a word before I’m fleeing across the room, and only when the fresh night-time air hits my hot cheeks do I relax again. I feel sad in my heart, yes, but I relax. I made the right choice.

___TIME SKIP: 15 Years Later / 1450___

I’m hiding behind a tree, watching Terry collapse on their knees in front of the gravestone with ‘Y/N L/N’ carved into it and Rudy stand some ways behind, taking deep breaths and closing his eyes.

I had to fake my death. I had to do it. I tell myself. They would have found out about me- there’s only so much I can do to myself to make me look older before they realise that I’m not really aging.

I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling a horrible tightness in my chest and fighting too hard, for it being an impulse and not a physical enemy, not to run out there and press Terry’s face into my chest and say I’m sorry, I take it back, I’m sorry.

But I can’t go back now.

God, this does not get easier the more you do it.

Taking one last look at my love, and my best friend, and the rest of the crowd that showed up to say goodbye to me, I sigh, close my eyes and turn around, leaning my back on the tree.

“- Faked ya’ death, huh?? Nice. Was it a fire or did you go the full Monty and make it like someone kidnapped you and got ridda’ the body? I think that’s what I’d do- funner. Ah, grammar. More fun? Funnier?” My eyes snap open immediately and absolutely bulge at the sight of… what was his name… Candy Pop? Yes. Candy Pop. He’s standing in front of me looking thoughtfully over passed me and the tree I’m using as a shield, to my funeral. “Ah, whatever. So, what are ya? A vampire, an alien?? An angel? You sure look like one.”

“Wh-wha- “

He taps my nose with his pointer finger, a toothy grin on his once calm, pretty features. What the hell- “I know. It’s been a while. I missed you! Oh- your old life are quickly toddling off. Guess your persona wasn’t loved enough to stick around too long for. They have shit to do, apparently.” He holds his hands behind his back, watching with a taught mouth as people leave- looking almost disappointed. Angry.

“C-Candy Pop? What are you doing here? How did you know I- “Anything. How did he know anything, here? Where I was, where I would be at this time today, what I was, that I would fake my death- everything. My hearts beating erratically with grim curiosity right now. Is he here to kill me? Is he here from another horrible researcher? I don’t know why I’m like this. I don’t know why I don’t age. I don’t know what to tell you. “What’s going on?”

“About 5 years ago, I started stalking you.”

“What!?- “

“Wasn’t hard.” He shrugs, not caring about my panic.

I don’t say anything. Is this man insane? I just wait for him to explain more. As I do, he looks down at me, from my feet to my lips to my eyes and his grin slowly grows across his face again.

Okay…

“Well, I never got my dance! It bothered me for years, because, obviously- we’re soulmates. I mean- you felt it too,” He informs me of this. No, doesn’t ask, doesn’t look unsure. He knows what I felt at that ball 15 years ago for a fact. “I know you did. But it was just your stupid mortal bed friend,” Oh jeez, he frustrated whines. ”And my stupid former honour keeping us apart. But now we’re both free from those things, so why not? We can do it now- how about a dance? All kinds, of course. Salsa, Foxtrot, Rumba. In the kitchen, in a ballroom, under covers- what do you say? We can start with a waltz on your grave.”

As he was talking, he was coming closer to me, until I was pressed up against the bark of the tree, ashy dust rubbing onto my back and his chest inches from mine. My eyes widened as he did so, feeling small compared to him. Maybe not in size, but certainly in strength. He’s insane, I think, watching him cautiously. And insanity makes people be able to do things sane people could never. “Candy Pop?”

“My name on your lips!~ Frightfully pretty.”

My cheeks heat up all over again with that feeling I thought was love at first sight the other time we met, mixed with fear this time that sends my heartbeat erratically beating in my chest again. I have to get out of here. He doesn’t understand- he’s off his head.

“Go away.”

“Oh, no. I think I waited long enough, I need us to… “For a moment he struggles for words, somehow giving off the illusion that pages are frantically flipping beyond his eyes even as he looks calm in his body language. Finally, he wraps his cold fingers around my arms, making me jump under his touch and look from one hand to the other. His fingers are wrapped nearly all in gloves, except the tips which reveal his jagged, bitten down nails that are now black instead of purple and ripped, agitated looking skin, but still- I feel magic spark under my skin. But his grip is tight on me and I feel so weak compared to him; Like he could rip my arms off if I say no and beat me to death with them, honestly. But his words reveal nothing but affection for me and a desire to be with me, which I can try and work with. In a breath, he lets out the word to end his sentence. “Us.” He needs us to be us.

There is no us, you freak!

“We’re… Candy Pop… you, you’re going too f-fast.” The stuttering was totally completely, absolutely from fear, but the softness that appears in his eyes and the gentleness that he turns to hold me with now indicates to me that he thought it was… cute… or something. I don’t know, but it must be good. Hopefully.

I look too long at his eyes and feel a deep coldness, causing me to quickly avert my gaze. Something terrible must have been done to Candy Pop… this isn’t the person I met 15 years ago anymore. Something has been ripped away from him, right out of his heart. It hurts to know, to see, because I did, truly, really like him after that short conversation we had. It was the magic I feel now at his touch, the something that could be.

Could have been, now though. Because now he’s gone. And he’s terrifying.

A slow, love-drunk grin slides across his painted lips, and he leans so close to me, to entirely too gently - he’s holding himself back. That’s clear by how tightly he’s still clenching his fingers around me, - nuzzle my head. “Did Romeo and Juliet worry about their celerity, sweetness? Don’t punish me for my hustle. Please.”

Oh- that’s enough. He’s cool close. I like it too much. My stomach squirms… he has to leave. I have to get out of here.

I whisper back, a sudden poisonous tone in my voice, “M’ not punishing you for your hustle.”, and feel him freeze a full second before I seize a brilliant teal ponytail, duck down and yank his head brutally the rest of the way over my head, face first into a tree- hard. A pained yowl escapes him but I don’t look back, bolting off to the other side of the cemetery where my carriage awaited. “Mickey! Please! To the house!”

Now as I sit in the jostling carriage, heart still beating rampantly in my body like the horses pulling me away to reprieve, I just lean forward with my elbows on my knees and my hands covering my cold, fear-stricken face from the world, just trying to calm down. “What the hell.”

Outside, sitting in the front of the carriage, my driver Mickey calls in as he guides the horses to check in- I’m sure because of my panicked entrance. “Master / Lady Y/N, how’re you doing in there??” I sit up straight with a deep breath, trying to calm down.

“Uh, I’m okay! Mickey! Just eager to go home… “The corners of my lips actually perk up at his sweetness… before my face falls again in horror - Candy Pop knows where I live, - and I try to control my voice as I speak up again quickly. “Uh, actually Mickey! Please take me to the docks- I’m going to France. Sp-Spontaneous trip.”

Spontaneous move. No need for belongings; I’ll start over there. Can’t go back. He’ll find me. I have to get away.

“Right-O, Master Y/N / My Lady.”

As I lean back in the carriage, completely spent and still pent up from fear, I look down at my hand and quickly spasm, panicking and wiping it fast on the seat next to me and then wiping the seat off, as well.

There was teal coloured hair wrapped around my fingers.

___TIME SKIP: 1 Year Later / 1451___:

The letter in my hands makes me nervous. I don’t know the handwriting on the front, or the smell, or anyone who uses this juniper seal. Slowly, my eyes narrow. “Hold on.” Thinking I might actually, possibly know who’s seal this is - not that they’ve ever sent correspondence before now, but… wishful thinking - , I go to the bookshelf in my study and pull out a particular book, open it and take out the envelope my friend Tilly let me keep. It used to hold a letter she and her husband accidentally received from higher noble family to another high-class family including some suspicious wording around the topic of one of the daughter’s surprise pregnancy with the footman. Tilly and I’d read it at least a hundred times when she turned up one night with it, and I ended up being allowed to keep the envelope to remember it by, just for silly fun, while she of course kept the letter.

And now, as I compare the broken, juniper seal on it to that on the new envelope, I feel a sudden urge of dread and nausea. It’s very similar, but with a few extra indentations that may have been made, by… a fingernail? That’s curious, but I’m too busy feeling anxious to take much notice of it.

Oh dear god, did they find out that Tilly received that letter??Why would they send something to me!? Am I going to be taken out?? God help me… I glance out the window worriedly, making sure no one is out there watching me.

Sitting down at the desk a moment later once I’ve decided that if someone is out there, they’re hiding unbelievably well in the open drive with no hiding places, I break open the new letter needlessly carefully, and pull out the note inside.

Unfolding it, I take a deep breath and try to rationalise with myself. It’s probably just an invitation to a ball. I mean, it’s been months and months since that letter… the baby would be born and sent to a baby hatch by now. I take another deep breath, and start to read the messy writing. Honestly, you would think nobility would be taught better cursive.

‘Dear Y/N,

Hello! It was a little difficult, but I found you! Cheeky rascal.

Anyway, if I were to set all the jokes aside- I would have to say, I owe you an apology, love. I may have been a bit forward with you during our last meeting and that was very rude of me. I would never want you to feel at all unsafe with me, I’ll always protect you and I certainly would never hurt you myself. Ever. Never ever ever ever ever.

Yes, I’m in the city as you read this, and it’s true that I broke into your house to leave this note, but that’s just me! I’m mischievous- it’s one of my quirks. Hopefully, one day, you’ll get used to it.

Steady yourself though, for now. I won’t be here for long, so your heartbeat can return to its former homeostasis. I’m shipping out on Thursday. I just wanted you to know I was here, and interact with you… even if I didn’t get to see you or your reaction. Because I love you! I know its irrational, and you don’t believe it, and even if you do then you certainly don’t feel it back or appreciate my love at all, but… I’m going to miss you while I’m gone, and I wanted you to be aware of that. Not to plague you, because I doubt it will as much as the fact that I’ll return will, but just to know that you’re thinking about me. You haven’t forgotten. You know I exist. ‘

At the bottom, the letter is signed ‘Dance with me? Pop.’, and my heart throbs dully inside my chest. So it’s not that Nobel family…

No, he’s not here. He’s leaving, and I believe him that for some reason, but nowhere in this letter does he say he’ll leave me alone completely. He says that breaking into my house is a quirk- nowhere does he apologise for it. And he says… he says, that he loves me.

It makes me uneasy… but not in the way you would think. A part of me, irrational and bleeding for the character that I met at that party that made me rethink, for a moment, my marriage and the life I’d picked for that increment of my eternity despite my content, yearns to grab him. Make him stay.

But of course, the rest of me, the part of me that knows his darker nature, is relieved.

I can’t help but think about it for the rest of the evening.

___TIME SKIP: 379 Years Later / 1830___:

“Heya, sweetheart!” Candy Pop’s voice invades my eardrums all-too-suddenly, causing me to jolt out of my own thoughts and nearly right out of my seat, too, as I whip my head around to see the monster sitting in the chair behind me, wiggling his fingers at me in greeting. My eyes widen and I take a deep breath in- “Don’t scream! I’m here to help~ Promise.” Oh, I highly doubt that. I highly, highly, highly doubt it! Right down deep within my soul.

Then, before you can say anything else or even build up a good scream, the Scotland Yard Officer enters back into the waiting room we’re in, from the adjoining ‘interrogation room’. “Uhhh, Mr Jeffrey Benjamin Jackson?” He calls out, and Candy Pop immediately turns his head to him. The Officer raises his brows at the odd looking character. “That you?”

“Yep, that’s me sir! Be right in.” Candy Pop calls back, grinning convincingly. How the hell did this jingle bell and skin-tight cloth wearing, bright haired psycho manage to sign himself as a credible witness source in the eye of the the Scotland Yard?!-

He leans forward in his chair towards me as the officer, Detective Burk I think he told me his name was, disappears into the questioning room to wait for ‘Jeffrey Benjamin Jackson’. Pop’s eyes are full of mischief, and I’m speechless. And horrified. “Wanna finish that dance before I go in?”

I sputter- what could I say? What does he even want me to say, at this point?

After a moment, he shrugs, making an upbeat ‘Hm’ sound before getting up and following Detective Burke into the other room.

I sit, visibly nervous in the cold, fluorescent, foreboding - at least for me, right now, - office waiting room, listening to the tic, tic, ticking of the grandfather clock that was the only sound in the room. There were others in the room, but only 2 and they sat a few rows down from me, doing the same thing as I am; Nothing. Sitting still.

Thinking.

My feet, resting in basic black shoes, are completely still on the ground, side by side as well as my knees. My hands sit awkwardly in the junction of my thighs over the top of my simple black skirt. The coal-coloured head piece I also wore served as testament to my grief - another partner having died only last year, - and the thin-lipped expression that I’m holding a testament to my stress.

If they find out… Chewing on my bottom lip, I glance at the door to the questioning room that Candy Pop disappeared into half an hour earlier, and that the grocer that I’ve purchased from for over 20 years - a mistake. A slip. One that i deeply regret now, - did so and returned out of an hour earlier. It’s such a mundane thing, but it sends bolts of anxiety and nausea like violent bursts of lightning down to my stomach and pricks my chest. I take a deep breath through my nose and look away again. I don’t know what will happen if they find out… but it won’t be good.

Please don’t tell them, Pop. Please, don’t.

I hadn’t seen that Candy Pop since the run in at Terry’s funeral, and I haven’t heard from him since not long after that when he left me that letter, so its heart stopping to see him, now. All I could do was stare, mouth half open as if to ask what the hell he’s doing, or maybe scream, until he was gone and the lock clicked and I was stuck just swallowing my anxiety down and trying not to throw up. Yes, the last time I took in his words, he said he loved me - in writing no less, - , but I won’t be a fool and blindly believe him.

No! No, instead, I’ll continue to sit here and feel sick with fear, silently as he might possibly be outing my entire secret to Scotland Yard.

God, he might’ve even been the one to report me.

Finally, I give up all pretences of having ‘nothing to worry about’ and hold my face in my hands, feeling like I might cry. What will they do to me? At the same time, I’m terrified but then also… ready to give up. Maybe they’ll kill me. I’m just so tired… I’ve lived too long… Buried too many friends, family and lovers. Been too many different people, seen too much history. It’s too much, now. Way too much. And I might be ready, for that. To die.

When the door opens again, I ignore it. Don’t raise my head. Just wait, massaging my head with the tips of my fingers.

Then the officer speaks, and I gasp, looking up. He sounds… rather disappointed. “Thank you for your patience and cooperation here today, everyone. The case of Mrs/Mr L/N is closed. You may all leave now, except for you Mrs/Mr L/N, we’ll need you to go through some papers with us, if you’ll be so kind… “

“O-oh. Of course.” I bite back my questions, thinking they might be suspicious as the other two witnesses in the room leave, looking disappointed also. Candy Pop appears in the seat beside me as the officer returns to his room to get the paperwork for me to sign.

Turning to him, eye wide, I open my mouth again to say something… but again, nothing comes out. Not a scream, and no words. He smiles softly, and puts his hand comfortingly on my knee before realisation seems to flicker behind his eyes and he pulls it awkwardly off again, holding that hand to himself, instead. My heart started beating faster at his action, feeling warmer than before at how… cute, it was. Still, my stomach is in knots over his reappearance.

“Don’t worry love,” He leans forward, giving me a conspiratorial look before leaning back again; Allowing me my personal space; A huge change from the last time. He talks quietly, both because the walls have ears and because all of the over-intensity from before is what scared me last time and he doesn’t want to lose you the same way again. He’s repressed. “I wouldn’t give you away. ‘M only here to save you.” Meaning ‘I’ll leave right away, now that I’ve done it…. When you tell me to.’

“Th- thank, you.” I’m being overwhelmed with relief right now, and confusion, and fear because I’m still not out of the woods until I’m home once again, and this weird warm feeling in my chest now that Candy Pop is so close again just makes it worse. Or better. I don’t know… But he’s being so… so, perfect.

Overly perfect, yes. He’s acting like I’m a bull he’s trying hard not to spook. But if there was ever a time to treat me like that… this was sure it.

He smiles the soft, wolfish smile again. “You’re alright?”

“Well… um… “Tucking some hair behind my ear, I turn properly to him. “I’m confused. Why… “I look around, making sure no one can hear me and lower my voice. “Why did you do that? And how did you even know… “

He snickers, a spark of the evil that lives in him making its appearance as he looks away and rolls his eyes. “Heh, you don’t think I’d keep tabs on you sweetums? Please.” So, he’s always been there… not directly, but he’s been there. He always is.

Maybe he always will be- maybe he’s like me. Still alive, that is, for no foreseeable reason.

That comforts me, in a way. I do wish I could see him when he saw me, though, just to feel less alone…

I watch him blow air slowly out of his cheeks before looking back at me again, returning to his softer air from before. A hesitant smile lifts the corners of his mouth and he pats me knee again, softly and quickly. “And, because I love you.” My eyebrows shoot up; That was the first time he’d said it out loud, what was happening between the two of you. Because something certainly was, I could even feel it on my side- regretfully. And he said it so casually, and softly. “Of course, I’d come for you when you needed- uh,” He’s hesitant to name himself. Grinning goofily, he shrugs. “Someone.”

“But… I… “Haven’t responded.

He shakes his head; I don’t have to say anything. Once again, he squeezes my knee comfortingly and looks at me the softest I’ve ever been looked at- it breaks me.

“You’re only the love of my life, Y/N.” For a moment we just stare at each other, before he lets go of me once again and gets up from his seat, causing me to crane my neck to see him; My eyes round as saucers. “I’m still waitin’ for that dance of ours! Aaaaanyway, I’ll leave you again, now. I’ll always keep an eye on you, though, so don’t worry!” He winks. “I won’t ever be gone for too long!”

I only watch, my heart reaching out but my lips sealed shut as Candy Pop turns his back on me and starts towards the hallway that’ll take him out of the building. But before he makes it to the doorway I lunge up and take his hand in mine, making him turn back around to raise his eyebrows at you, eyes wide with surprise and something else. Adoration, maybe. At me touching him willingly.

And I’m just as surprised, as I slowly sit back down, feeling comfortable in the fact that I have him in my grasp… He can’t go anywhere while I have him, meaning that I want him with me… Holding his hand feels like fulfilling a deep desire that I never allowed myself to entertain, and now all I can do is hold it in both of mine and treasure the feeling. My lips quirk up and down nervously. “Could you… hah,” Breathing out, I try to get the words out- not that I have to. Candy Pop is already taking is seat beside me, back where I want him to be. Relief sprouts inside me. “Would you stay with me? I’m… I’m tired of being alone.”

Of course, I’m never really alone- aside, from Candy pop and his stalking tendencies. I know that. But everyone I love, everyone who fills up my, life eventually dies. And if this experience has brought anything to my attention it’s that I’m not as strong as I thought I was- with every death, and funeral, I lose a little more hope. Mortal’s end up feeling less comforting to me, because I know they’ll leave and of course that isn’t their fault, but… I can’t help it. It’s a horrible fact of life.

Just, not my life.

Or Candy Pop’s.

I need someone, right now, who… isn’t going to leave. Who’s like me.

And, as he sits down and takes my linked clump of hands into his own lap to stroke my knuckles gently, I know he’s willing to be that someone.

I feel a washed in relief.

___TIME SKIP: 21 Years Later / 1851___:

Since my close call with the government nearly half a century ago, Candy Pop and I have stayed in touch. Not exactly close, and definitely not in a romantic sense, even if… more than sometimes… more than occasionally… I want it to be, but we will send each other letters and meet up all the time when you were in the same area. I got close with his larger-than-life sister, too, Cane. They’re very similar, as twins, but they have their differences.

Their flavour pallets, for one.

For example, while Pop prefers to stay sober, Cane loves alcohol - All kinds! Doesn’t matter to her. Rum, tequila, vodka, beer, wine… Any of this will do, - and will end up smashed at any party (While still somehow carrying that air of confidence and elegance that everyone envies of her) … even a gala for scientific discovery, which is where all three of us find ourselves tonight.

The scientific discovery being celebrated tonight is that of the earth turning on its own axis, allowing both hemispheres of the earth to see the sun and the moon at different times- giving the illusion that the sun rises and falls. It’s pretty boring. Well, it’s interesting… sort of. It was a bit of a surprise when I heard and I listened in to the first few speeches, but a revelation like that is only so fun until I realise nothing has really changed.

I’m still the same person, living the same life, with the same people who in turn are doing the same things with their life, as before.

So I find yourself outside, feeling warm from the Champaign I’d consumed during the speeches and the laughter I had given up at some of the geeky nerd jokes some of these cute scientists made, and needing some fresh air. The courtyard outside the billionaire’s mansion is pretty in the moonlight, which I look up at with different eyes now, and the hedges and lavender bushes catch golden fire light from inside beautifully. It’s a calming place… makes me feel like a fairy, a bit. It’s nice. I sit down on a bench, roll up my sleeves and enjoy the feeling of cool night-time air on my heated cheeks and the soft, oft hidden away skin of my arms.

I’m just sitting there, relaxing, when the bench creeks with more weight and I peek from under my eyelids to see Candy Pop’s figure and open them fully to smile in greeting at him. “Hey, you having a good time at the party?”

“Sure- geeks and mad scientists are a killer party crowd. I don’t know why I don’t run with these people more often.” He snarks sarcastically, leaning back on the bench and laying his arms out on the top of it. A lazy, amused grin tugs at his lips as he glances at me, causing me to roll my eyes and mirror his expression back at him.

“Hm, right. Your crowd’s… rowdier, then this one, right?” I smirk, holding in a chuckle. Candy Pop immediately straightens up and leans towards me, on the defensive.

“Hey! Kids are way more fun than these dorbels!”

One of my hand’s is on my mouth in a flash as I dissolve into giggles. “Dorbel! I haven’t heard that one in centuries!”

“Hm,” He hums happily, watching me giggle and smile at a thing he said, next to him. (Honestly, for a good long while, he didn’t really believe that anything like this would really happen to him. That he would get to be the one making you smile so unintentionally, or even that you would sit next to him and be… comfortable. It’s so pleasant to see you like this. Weird, but so so pleasant.)

(Oh, my god. He is so completely in love with your unattainable ass.)

After a moment Pop pats my thigh when I stop grinning so broadly and then takes his hand away. “So, lemon drop.” He sneaks a peak at me out of the corner of his eye as he pretends to look at the garden before them like I am and catches my lips quirk at the nickname. “Honey pie.” I roll my eyes this time, still unsure about the reaction my body gives towards Pop, after everything. He side eyes me again, and I know it, and I don’t bat his hand away when he reaches to tuck some hair back behind my ear. Not even close. “How’ve you been?”

Immediately I roll my shoulders uncomfortably, crossing my arms. How’ve I been… hm, well let’s think…

I’ve been feeling like all my years, and the metaphorical weight all the people I’ve lost are all somehow catching up to me finally. Like they’re in hot pursuit and every time they get close, my heart clenches and I feel like throwing everything away.

But instead of saying that, I give Pop a funny look and raise a brow. “You mean you haven’t been watching? Boy,” Sighing, I joke. “I suddenly feel almost inadequate.”

Giving you a squinty look back, he smirks. “Don’t get me wrong love, I watch.” A zap of nerves flashes through me at that, at how steady his voice was. Then he shrugs hopelessly, casually, and looks away again. “But I’m not a mind reader.”

Glancing at him, I clutching my hands together and taking a breath.

“It’s just been… “I sigh, rolling my head back over my shoulders to get rid of the tension at mentioning it, or thinking about it. “A particularly hard, year.” Sighing, I look up to the sky and cross my arms over my chest, chilly. “Or four hundred. And… “I let out a long breath, the air puffing out visibly in front of me like steam… disappearing into the sky quickly. “And now this business about the, uh, earth moving? Just reminds me, how nothing’s going to change… the earth’s going to keep turning, the sun’s going to keep baring down on us, and we’re, you and I and Cane, are going to keep on surviving… no matter how many we lose along the way. Or how much we want it to be over.”

“Yeah,” He chuckles, nervously. “But if you didn’t keep on living, you never woulda met me! Or become friends!” On the word ‘friends’, his voice gets dry… but he quickly pats my hand and becomes upbeat again. “That makes it all worth it, doesn’t it? Sure does for me.”

(He watches you not look back at him, and feels the ongoing heartache and longing for you twist uncomfortably, in his heart. He knows, you still don’t feel the same. It hurts him to acknowledge but at the same time… you’ve come this far with eachother. It’s been so hard to just stay still, and not take you with him against his will, and to be honest with you, but he managed it and made you his friend.)

(And he just can’t throw the game so close to the end.)

After I don’t answer for a moment, just breathing out visible air slowly into the world, Pop stretches his arms over his head and groans. “Ehhh. Look… I know, love. It’s hard for you. Watching your… loved, ones… “The words ‘loved ones’ comes out unsure, and a little bitter. Because all he has is his sister and me, and he certainly doesn’t understand caring for some dumb human like I do, every day. Nevertheless, he goes on, letting his arms float back down to his lap. “leave… but y’ always get to meet someone new, right? The world continues to move and we’ll continue to survive- that’s true. But also, you’ll always find someone new, who’s life you’ll make yards better. And who makes your life worth living, right?”

I glance over at Pop, spouting truths like he’s good, like he means any of it. Like he didn’t just make that all up and say it just cuz he thinks it sounds right.

I think, even if he did just make that up, and words like ‘loved ones’ stick in the back of his throat uncomfortably, he’s right. A small smile slips across my lips but when he turns, catches me, and smirks at me smiling so softly at him, I switch to a scowl and look away- waiving him off; Fiercely detached from him, always. That’s how I must stay… even if it is, becoming harder and harder. And I forget in moments like these, why.

A few minutes pass of pleasant, comfortable, companionable silence. I just enjoy the feeling of cool night-time air on my face - one of the things in this world that never, ever gets old in reasonable bursts, - and the beautiful garden.

Then Pop bounces up from the bench and offers his hand to me, excitedly. Smoothly though, his excitement mellows down into a soft, reassuring devils smile of his own. His tilts his head to the side, palm up and open to me. “Come on, dance with me. The world is spinning; We can’t just stand on it.”

This time, when I look up at him offering that hand to me- that familiar smile on his face… I feel very little qualms, in taking it and letting him heave me up to my feet.

___TIM SKIP: Present Time___:

For the past century and a half, I’ve lived in Tokyo, Monte Carlo, Guilin, Seoul, Manchester, Brisbane and various other places all over the world - Ireland, Scotland, New Zealand, Hong Kong, Egypt, - and everything has been different in every next place I move to. The food, the people, the language, the fashion, the culture- And of all this change in my life, one thing has remained the same. And his name is Candy Pop.

He’s become a cemented part of my life- one that, if taken away, would honestly disrupt the structural integrity of my whole life, I think. He’s so important. I don’t exactly know what changed and when… you lose some things, with time… but- I love him.

Taking a deep breath and sighing it out, I roll my eyes and settle further into the couch cushions. I have some timing, don’t I? He probably doesn’t feel that way anymore- we’ve come so far, and I would never dismantle the progress we’ve made. So I’ll do our friendship the kindness of keeping these feelings to myself. Tapping away at my keyboard, creating a boring old excel spreadsheet for work, I offer Pop but a quick smile when he enters the living room and plops down next to my feet on the couch. He turns on the TV, flicking to Gossip Girl and giggling at Chuck around the chewing of a redvine.

He gets through 3 episodes and 4 different sex scandals and I manage to complete a good portion of my spreadsheet before it gets dark outside I realise we haven’t had dinner. Sighing out a deep breath, I shut my laptop down and close it; Turning promptly to Pop, who seems to tiring of his show, as well. He’s just chewing his lolly very slowly, staring off into space. “… Pop?” Leaning forward, you tilt your head to he side. “Are you okay?”

When you steal his attention, he jumps- eyes snapping to yours, dark and menacing for a moment that confuses you. Your eyebrows furrow, just before a calm smile spreads across his painted lips to rest your nerves at ease; Though his eyes are still focused as hell on you. Turning in his seat, but not daring to come any closer to you or touch you, Pop says the next words without a breath. Without a halt- just a string of soft words that make sense together if you only stop and pay attention- or if, in this particular situation, he had said it before. “Gumdrop, I love you.”

Surprised, your eyes widen- and he takes it as fear, his own eyes widening at your reaction before he leaps up off the couch to put the armrest between the two of you; Crouching behind it. You follow him, crawling quickly to his end of the couch and looking down at him over the arm. Opening your mouth, you fully intend to tell him, but he cuts you off. “Candy Po-“

He talks fast, almost nervous this time around confessing to you. He’s been worried before, at the secret service office all those decades ago because he knew you would be scared of him, but he’s never been nervous. Not since you first met. “I know you never felt it back, and you probably never will… “The jester chews on a long thumbnail, eyes glazing over for a moment with his own thoughts and regrets, before he snaps back to reality again and clutches the arm rest between the two of you. The soft cushiony fabric bunches around his fingers with the tightness he’s gripping it with. “But I haven’t changed and I just recalled that it’s been awhile, since I last reminded you, and… I thought you needed to know, still.”

Taking in a deep breath through your nose, calming yourself because all of a sudden your heart’s beating a thousand miles per minute inside your fragile chest and he’s done this before but you haven’t, you close your eyes. He always had a way with words, even when they scared the shit out of you.

“Pop… “Your eyes gently open, catching sight of him looking up at you cautiously, almost delicate in his looks, and you can’t help that you almost feel apologetic, in confessing this late in the game. That he’s felt this way since you met, and he’s been in pain over it all this time, and so you will never get to be even on that front because he’s totally in love with you and he’d never turn you down. “… I’ve, changed.”

Immediately Candy Pop’s face changes again, to focused curiosity as he climbs back up onto the couch and you’re forced to lean back on your arms as he crawls over you, assessing your face. “… what?”

“I’m sorry- I, um- … I’m in love with you. You were right, it was always there, I just couldn’t- “

All of a sudden all the tension from the past centuries comes to a crashing apotheosis as his lips finally meet yours and one of his hands find the bottom of your face and the other clutches your waist gently and he rests on your lap like he’s imagined this a million times before. It’s a lose-yourself kind of kiss, a fireworks-cracking-against-the-sky, climactic, she-whispered-finally, kind of kiss. You tilt your head into it, wanting all of him- now.

When you both pull back - for air, -, Candy Pop is elated to see your eyelids struggle to lift again and your red lips, and he’s lost just looking at you like that for the first time and knowing its because of him. He runs a thumb across your bottom lip, fascinated, before you guide him down to kiss you again and he can’t help but groan- as if just you kissing him is enough to make him come.

The next time you break that kiss, you let yourself fall back properly on the couch, feeling like finally. Because somehow, your body was waiting for him all this time.

He just stays perched with his knees on either side of your thighs, appraising you down there, until your eyes snap to his and you scrunch up your nose in a little smile that makes his eyes glitter. You push yourself up and out from under him, getting to the floor and your feet, and guiding him up to his own.

“Well Pop… it’s still spinning… “

“Are you asking me to dance with you, pumpkin?~” Candy Pop gives you a mischievous grin, already gathering your body against his. Its feels natural, but not a boring kind of natural.

You nod, giggling. “Yeah.”

“Anytime, Y/N.”

#Candy Pop x Reader Oneshot #Candy Pop x Reader #Creepypasta Candy Pop x Reader Oneshot #Creepypasta Candy Pop x Reader #creepypasta candy pop #creepypasta #Oneshot #Creepypasta x Reader

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rocorambles · 4 years

Text

Kinktober Day 22: Glory Hole

Pairing: Japan National Team x Reader x Kuroo

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Glory Hole, Overstimulation, Gangbang, Subspace

You’ll never understand how Kuroo manages to convince you to do just about anything. Maybe it’s the years of knowing and dating each other, the knowledge that he’d never put you in harm’s way, the undeniable love you know he has for you. Whatever the case is, here you are, heart racing a mile a minute, naked, stuck in a makeshift wall, standing with only your pussy, ass, and legs on display for the entire Japan National Team on one side of the wall while your husband reassuringly kisses you and you instinctively lean into his comforting touch as much as you can with your arms bound to the wall on either side of your head on the other side of the wall, torso bent over, breasts dangling down.

You’re so distracted by Kuroo’s tongue exploring your mouth, his familiar scent wafting into your nose that it comes as a shock when a calloused hand teasingly gropes your ass cheeks, squeezing them, playfully slapping them a bit, lewdly separating your pussy lips apart. But you wail when two fingers are suddenly plunged into you without preamble, not that you need any foreplay when just the thought of your body being used as nothing but a pair of empty holes for an entire team of handsome, athletic men already has your hole dripping wet. You can guess who’s finger fucking you, the brutality of the pace matching his wicked mouth and the mental image you have of Atsumu smirking as he thrusts his fingers in and out, tips searching for that spongy spot that’ll make you see stars brings you dangerously close to your first climax.

But before you can reach your apex, you vaguely hear a commotion on the other side of the wall before the fingers inside of you are swiftly pulled out and you don’t even have time to question what’s happening when suddenly there’s a mouth lapping at the drenched mess between your legs, inquisitively tasting and mapping your folds, smaller hands replacing Atsumu’s as their fingers more gently enter you, instantly finding your g-spot and teasing it as their mouth sucks on your clit. And you think that it must be Yaku between the smaller size and the affectionate caring way he attends to you and you can feel arousal one again coiling inside of you, slowly but surely building, and when a finger pushes into your tight puckered hole that Kuroo had thoroughly prepared beforehand, you moan as your hips buck into the mouth still wrapped around your clit, the fingers in both your holes unrelenting as they continue to fuck you through your orgasm.

Your torso slumps against the chains keeping you upright as post-coital bliss courses through you and you vaguely hear Kuroo praising you, gently murmuring in your ear as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses down your neck. But there’s no time to rest and the mouth at your pussy is replaced by a hard object and you gasp as a cock slides inside of you, strong hands gripping your waist as they bottom out, the previous fingers inside of your ass still inside your tight hole, scissoring it and stretching it. The pace is meticulous, controlled, but strong and deep and if it weren’t for his large hands keeping you still, you know you’d be instinctively pushing back, trying to meet him every thrust. Even in the position you’re in, you let out a breathy laugh at the idea of the two frenemies working together so intimately to ruin you, Sakusa railing you as Atsumu toys with your ass. But your laugh gets stuck in your throat when his pace increases, balls slapping against you with every movement and as Kuroo begins to fondle and tweak your nipples, your mind spins deliriously as the feeling of hot liquid pouring inside of you overtakes you with one strong final thrust.

You whimper when he pulls out, the feeling of sticky fluids trickling down your inner thigh and the knowledge that your asshole must be gaping as Atsumu finally takes his fingers out making humiliation and lust burn inside of you, but it seems like your messy display isn’t a turn off for the strong hand that comes slicing through the air, harshly smacking your ass and you squeal at the impact. Who was it? Ushijima? Bokuto? Aran? You’re reeling from the intensity of the constant hits, your ass smarting and heating up under the never ending attention, but you let out a high-pitched keen as an eager mouth bullies its way between your thighs, giving impatient fast swipes before suddenly plunging in.

Your boyfriend is a generous lover and friend and it’s not the first time you’ve had Bokuto in such an intimate position, his spiky hair tickling your legs as he buries his head into you, nose jostling against your clit as he ravenously eats you out, his strong arms holding you firmly against him. You can’t think between the unknown hand continuing its attack on your rear, Bokuto’s tongue diving in so deeply, so thoroughly, Kuroo’s mouth now sucking on one of your nipples as he pinches the other between his fingers and the chains holding you jingle as your body convulses and writhes when you fall apart under their joint efforts.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as Bokuto continues even after your orgasm has passed and you sob as he brings you head first into overstimulation, your hips wiggling futilely against his strong grip, pleads for mercy escaping past your lips only to be swallowed by Kuroo’s mouth hungrily devouring them, breaking apart just enough to urge you to keep on being a good girl, to take everything they give you. And when he brings his forehead to rest against yours, hazel eyes attentively staring into yours, making sure you’re really okay to go on, you bite your lip in determination and nod your head submissively at him. Anything to be his good girl.

It feels like ages before Bokuto grows tired, forcing you to multiple orgasms before his appetite is finally sated and you exhaustedly collapse against Kuroo in relief, but you stiffen as you feel another cock at your entrance. You want to beg that it’s too soon, to give you a few more seconds, but any thoughts instantly die as the massive object slides inside of you, the girth stretching your pussy far wider than it’s ever been subjected to, and you feel so full, impossibly full, but it just keeps on going, more and more inches sinking inside of you and you open your mouth in a silent scream as you feel it all the way in your stomach. You’d heard rumors about Ushijima’s impressive stature, but feeling and hearing are two different things and you think he might just break you with how far inside of you he is, how he touches every inch of you just by staying still. It's embarrassing how quickly you shatter from just a few thrusts, babbling incoherently, brain literally being fucked out of you as he continues his steady pace, your pussy creaming around his cock as it opens to accommodate him. And when he finally finishes and paints thick stripes all over your lower back and ass, drool is seeping from your mouth and your eyes are unseeing, only the chains and Kuroo holding your limp body up.

You almost cry in relief when three hesitant pairs of hands explore your body, tentatively and gently caressing your skin, running along the entire length of your legs, skimming across your waist and hips. And you know that this is going to be as much of a break as you’ll get in this session as the three youngest players take their time, almost shyly and reverently exploring and experimenting. They’re not as skilled as some of their seniors, but their enthusiasm and desire to learn makes up for it and you vaguely make out murmuring from the other side as their senpais guide them, teach them what riles you up. The two more forward sets of hands must be Hinata and Hoshiumi and you moan as they compete against each other, seeing who can make you wetter, who can have your ass and hips shake more lewdly, uncaring of the fact that they’re dragging you into orgasm after orgasm in their pursuit to best each other and you sigh in relief when they’re suddenly replaced by a calmer pair of hands as if they’d been either shoved or pulled away.

The calloused hands are stiff, a bit uncertain as one grips your hip and the other guides his cock inside of you and you close your eyes at the feeling of the long length sliding inside of you. He starts a slow pace and you imagine the way he’s probably gritting his teeth, blue eyes hidden as he clenches his eyes at the feeling of your tight heat and you melt into his touch, feeling the gentle waves of desire building inside you once again. It feels so good, but it’s not enough until another set of hands joins and begins to rub the bud right above where Kageyama is pistoning in and out of you and spurred on by the way your walls squeeze against him at the stimulation, the pace inside of you increases, the fingers on your bud moving more rapidly until you’re crescendoing to your peak, whimpering into Kuroo’s chest as he holds you, brushing his fingers soothingly through your hair.

And you let his familiar touch ground you, sighing in content as the fingers that were on your clit also rub soothing circles on your lower back as another figure presses behind you. You wonder if it’s Komori who’s trying to provide some comfort to you, it would fit his personality, but you don’t have time to dwell, not when another cock is sliding inside of your used hole, and your teeth bite down hard into Kuroo’s shoulder as you’re split apart. It’s not as big as Ushijima’s, but it’s close and your mind swirls. Is it Aran, Hakuba, Hyakuzawa? Just the image of any of the towering men dwarfing your body, stuffing you full, forcing you to take all of them makes you clench and you whimper as strong hands instinctively tighten at the movement.

But when they move, you’re sure it’s Aran, the movements too careful to be Hakuba, but too confident to be Hyakuzawa and you don’t even have the energy to make any sounds other than high pitched squeaks as he ruts in and out, Komori’s hand still continuing to comfortingly rub your back as Kuroo whispers praise after praise in your ear. And you feel yourself drop into subspace, wholly trusting Kuroo to take care of you as your mind blanks out and you feel like you’re floating in a world of pleasure as they continue to use you, making sure everyone has a turn or two or three inside of you.

It’s not until you feel your arms being unchained, your body released and gently maneuvered into a lap, Kuroo’s deep voice bringing you back to him as he murmurs words of praise and love that make your heart soar, his arms and hands holding you close to him, cradling you, making sure you feel grounded and sure of his presence, that you blearily begin to see the world around you, begin to really feel his firm presence and inhale his scent, begin to notice the aches throughout your body and the mess between your legs. It’s hard to find the strength to even lift your head, but with the gentle aid of Kuroo’s hand under your chin, you finally stare into hazel eyes, purring at the overwhelming love you see in his eyes before you snuggle against him, weak as a kitten. And that night as he spoils you rotten, soaking you in a bubble bath, massaging your favorite body oil into your skin, cuddling with you until your heavy eyelids begin to close, you think that it’s not so bad to let Kuroo talk you into his wild schemes.

#haikyuu smut #kuroo x reader #ushijima x reader #atsumu x reader #sakusa x reader #bokuto x reader #hinata x reader #kageyama x reader #hoshiumi x reader #aran x reader #komori x reader #yaku x reader

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