#this is about having sex and being out of commission for 2 days after
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click, p.2 - Sam Winchester/Reader
read it on ao3.
Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader (late s5)
Tags/Warnings: angst, love confessions, romantic sex, oral sex/cunnilingus, (aka, Sam pussy addiction: the shequel), Sam is Lucifer's vessel, reader is AFAB.
Word Count: ~11k.
Notes: i was commissioned for the second time by the lovely @daffodil-mania, who wanted a continuation of her last fic set during the "say yes" era of s5. (sooooo dangerous to let me put my grubby hands on this version of Sam, btw). i cannot express how BUCK FUCKING WILD uncouth-nation went for the first part of this fic, so this is for all the wonderful people who gushed over click, commented, threw me some kudos, or even just read it and liked it. lots of love, and i hope you enjoy <3 i did my best to rip out your soul as best i could.
THIS CAN STAND ON IT'S OWNNN AHHH. i mean. if u wanna read it <3
Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!
FIVE YEARS LATER
The walk from the bus stop to your apartment is a safe and easy seven minutes. If you were any other person in any other world, you’d glide onto the bus after your night shift at the university, hop off at your stop, and bumble toward your apartment without a single care in the world. Maybe stare at your phone the whole walk back. Text a hot guy who isn’t the physical manifestation of the devil on earth. Normal stuff.
But this is your life, so you sit front seat on the bus, hands in your lap, tapping a nervous beat against the angel blade hidden in your book bag. The windows rattle in their frames and gleam with rain. You could get off at your stop and take those easy seven minutes home—but the bus driver could also be a demon, so.
Since you aren’t in the mood to die a slow death tonight, walking a few extra blocks to keep anybody from knowing where you live will have to work.
On day two of this, you’d called Dean and asked if you were being extra paranoid. He’d kindly pointed out: Extra-paranoid is just extra-survival. I dunno about you, but survivin’ a lil’ extra sounds fan-fuckin-tastic to me right about now.
He’s right. You know he’s right. But it still doesn’t feel like a good answer, and that makes you picture Sam, twenty-three and still bright-eyed, running his fingers down your bare back and scowling. I’m sick of surviving. One of these days, I want to actually live my life.
But that had been before the apocalypse, before Dean’s deal, before everything. Sam was a different man now. Hunting had reached into all three of you and ripped all sorts of things out, but you would never forgive it for taking Sam’s hope for something better. God, you missed that Sam. You missed him more than anything.
The city bus lumbers up to the curb and spits you out onto the sidewalk, where you superstitiously hover, waiting for the other passengers crawling away from their night shifts to scatter. It’s only when the bus is a dark spot in the mist down the street that you start to walk, your whole body caked head to toe with oily rain.
This time, you take a random left toward your apartment and serpentine street-to-street, never walking the exact same way the same week. By the time you’re closer to where the bus could’ve actually dropped you off, the lingering smell of old research books has been practically power-washed out of your clothes. You try to think of anything but the freezing, biting, face-stinging rain… and, like a moth to a flame, your mind floats back to Sam.
It’s been over two weeks since he dropped the nuclear option. Over two weeks ago, Sam wanted to say yes to Lucifer, and over two weeks have passed since the massive, unstoppable-force-meets-immovable-object fight that’d erupted as a result.
Dean had blown up. Sam had pushed. You’d burst into tears and clawed into Sam just as deep, because why, why would he ever go there—why would that even be a fathomable possibility in his mind? Did he really think so low of himself? How could he ever give up like that? How could he leave you—?
The worst part was easily the way Sam had reacted. With Dean or John, he could yell himself hoarse, but when it came to fighting you all he could do was sit and take it. He put his head down and nodded at everything you said, even the cruel things. In some ways it made you angrier, but also inconceivably, cosmically guilty. This was Sam’s choice. And of course, because this was Sam, his choice was to save the whole goddamn world. Not a single bone in your body carried that level of selflessness, yet Sam bled the stuff.
You were still furious with him, but only because being mad at him was the only option you had left. The right thing to do would be to tell Sam, I trust you to make this decision, this is your life, and let him take that jump… But you didn’t have it in you. Saying that felt like pushing him over the ledge yourself, or telling him you’d never cared about him in the first place. If you were angry at least you were still fighting for him in some way.
You’d been on board for everything—trying to find a way out of Dean’s deal, trying to kill Lilith, everything. But the argument with Sam had torn out the final piece of you that could stand this, so you packed a bag, told Dean you’d be in a strict research-only role, and booked it back to your hometown. It was cowardly and stupid and beyond selfish, but you knew your stance. The hunt had taken everything from you. You refused to let it take Sam, too.
Maybe, Sam would take you stepping away as a serious sign to change his mind. You couldn’t imagine a world where Sam and his Winchester stubbornness would ever do that, but. It was a nice wish to hold onto.
By the time you make it up the steps to your apartment building, you’re soaked to the bone and audibly making pathetic shivering sounds. Your bookbag feels heavier than ever, digging a trench into your shoulder as you fish around for your keys. The second your apartment door is open the true weight of your exhaustion hits you—
—and then utterly disappears, replaced by a shock of pure adrenaline.
There’s a new pair of boots by your front door.
You catch the heavy door before it goes swinging against the doorjamb, straining your ears against the ringing silence. The bedside lamp is on in your room.
On dead-quiet feet, you slip in, click the door shut behind you, and slip off your bookbag. Your angel blade is in your hand in a second, but you risk a few extra steps toward your kitchen table to wiggle loose the pistol you taped underneath. Just the weight of your weapons in your hands flicks the hunter muscle memory back on in your body, and before you can think you’re hiding in the shadow beside your bedroom door. Listening.
Soft breathing. The pages of a book turning.
You know, instinctively, who it is—you would know him dumb and blind and dead. But these days, anybody could be piloting his body around.
You suck in a deep breath through your nose, heart throbbing in your ears. You wait until the fingers on your gun aren’t shaking anymore, then burst inside the room, slamming the door into the wall and whipping your pistol up to eye level.
Sam’s head flinches towards you. He is exactly as you saw him two weeks ago; solemn, determined, and open, the air around him practically steaming with safety and goodness. He’s sat comfortably on your bed, reading a book he brought with him. Despite everything, your belly still curls with butterflies when you lay eyes on him. Sam. Definitely Sam, and no one else.
Still, your paranoia has gotten you this far. You both stare at each other for a beat, equal parts scared out of your minds and relieved. Without a word, you keep your gun trained on him, and Sam lets you, his eyes big and understanding. You shuffle sideways to your dresser, and without turning away from him, pop open the top drawer and toss him the silver flask of holy water you keep hidden inside.
He catches it. So, not a shapeshifter, then. Sam takes a drink of the holy water, even turning to the side so you can see the water go into his mouth. (A demon in Missouri had slipped past the three of you by pretending to sip—only Sam would know that.) You’re still a little terrified, but you manage to pull your weapons back down to your sides. You still don’t know what to say.
He’s really here. The part of you that had worried the argument with Sam would be your last wails with joy. He’s here, alive and in front of you. No matter how awkward you feel you can’t bring yourself to stop staring at him. By the buttery light of your bedside lamp, he literally glows with beauty, and you realize he’d scrubbed his boots off on your welcome mat to not track mud in, and he’d hung up his rain-soaked jacket in your shower to dry. Stupid polite Sam things.
You dare to glance back at your kitchen, then swivel to squint at him. “Did you… do my dishes?”
Sam lets his hands relax into his lap and nods, shy. He’s looking at you in a way he never really has before, eyes big and soul-rending. “…Yeah. I used the key you gave me to get in… Hope that’s okay.”
There’s another long pause. Usually when you stare at Sam, he doesn’t stare so intensely back, but you share a weird mutual moment where you just stand there and take each other in. It’s so obvious it’s painful, but if he’s doing it then you feel entitled to devour him with your eyes too.
“I got, uh, bored. Waiting for you,” Sam clarifies. “Thought I’d make myself useful.”
Sam stands from the bed. For a second you think he’s heading straight for you, but he moves toward the dresser behind you, kindly tucking the holy water back where it was stowed. You flit out of his way as fast as you can and set your weapons down on the closest available surface, feeling off-kilter. Why would he come here? Is he going to tell you that he changed his mind?
You hold onto the question, but you know it’s too out of character to hope for. Despair sinks into your gut like a rock in a pond. You know why Sam’s here. He would never make this decision without telling you first—without at least saying goodbye in person.
Your throat locks up with tears.
Behind you, Sam hums, “You changed your hair.”
Right. You’d altered it to be more undercover. You resist the urge to reach up and play with your hair, or give in to any of the fluttery feelings you always feel around Sam. “It’s safer.” Tightly, you ask him, “What are you doing here?”
Sam drags a long breath through his nose. You clutch the end of your bookshelf, your chest crumpling with misery. Please don’t say it. Please, please, lie to me if you have to.
“...I’m not taking the jump,” Sam breathes.
There’s more that he says after that. He talks about how you and Dean are right, and how, surely, after everything that the three of you have been through, there’s got to be another way to end this. You’ve always found another way in the past. Sam explains all this to you in a sure, quiet voice, like this is something he’s thought about for a long time, but you barely hear him after those first words. There’s this persistent tension in your chest that’s telling you that there’s something wrong here, but you don’t care—you don’t give a single fucking shit, because Sam—Sam isn’t saying yes. Sam’s staying.
“…are other ways I can make up for the mistakes I made,” he’s telling you, scrambling to fill the nagging silence.
You take a moment to force back your tears, and Sam, nervously, keeps talking.
He swallows, trying to smile. “I-I would’ve called and told you, but something tells me you wouldn’t have picked up.”
When you’ve got your bearings back, you push away from your bookshelf and turn to face him. Your legs are so leaden that you feel as if you have to physically pick up your body and drop it down the other direction, but you manage it. “What… what made you change your mind?”
Sam gets one look at your face and wilts with guilt. He doesn’t answer your question in words—just shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down at his feet, then around your room, as if his reason was in the air with the two of you. In the apartment. His eyes flicker over you just once, and you understand. Seeing you leave really had scared him.
“Be careful,” you start to joke with him, “you start validating my childish reactions and we’re gonna have a whole new set of problems on our hands.”
Sam scoffs. “It wasn’t childish to run away.”
You raise an eyebrow at his word choice, which gets an honest-to-god laugh out of him. A real good Sam Winchester laugh, dimples and all. The last dregs of anxiety in your gut melt at the sound, and Sam reassures you, shrugging, “You needed to get out. In case you forgot, I kind of invented wanting to get out. I understand. I really do.”
You know that he does. That’s not exactly going to stop you from feeling guilty about ditching them, but at least it kicked some sense into him. God. For the last five or six years, your every moment had been spent with Sam and his brother. Even just a couple weeks without him had drained you, and having him back only makes those feelings more clear. Sam’s presence commands the space in a way that turns your shitty, undecorated bedroom into someplace magical, someplace good and safe and warm, and just seeing him standing there draws the ache out of your spine.
Your reach out for his sleeve. Somehow, he’s more real than ever, a tangible person instead of the memory you’ve chased for so long.
“You’re really not saying yes?”
Sam unwinds your hand from the fabric so he can hold it instead, your fingers scooped in his fingers. You’re given a firm squeeze and are hypnotized by him in an instant, the world narrowing down to this moment between just him and just you.
Sam looks into your eyes when he promises, “I’m not going anywhere.”
The tears you’d resisted before return in one big, merciless wave. You’re so tired and the rain was so fucking cold and you’re so sick of being scared that Sam, thank god, Sam, is everything you could possibly need. He’s not going anywhere. Before you can stop yourself you’re clutching him for dear life, shoving your face in his shirt and crushing his body against yours. These last few weeks have submerged you in survival mode, and you don’t realize how deep until Sam pulls you out of the current. He’s warm and dry, and when you inhale to sob he smells like a 24-hour-laundromat, the Impala, and home home home. You could’ve lost that. You could’ve lost him.
“Th-thank you,” you choke out at nothing in particular, “thank you.”
You’ve cried a lot this week, so there are not many tears left to shed. Still, Sam holds you through all of them, swaying back and forth with you and cooing in your ear. You hear him sniffling too. When you’re both all sobbed out, you pull back to tell him you love him, to remind him of all the things he needs to hear, but Sam strangely doesn’t let you. The second he feels you pull away he clutches you back against him, and you get the uneasy impression that you’ve been comforting him more than he’s been comforting you. His whole body’s shaking.
Sam hugs you for longer than he ever has before. It’s a little worrying, but you’ve both needed it so much that you don’t even complain.
After a while, Sam slips back, and in traditional Winchester fashion tries to play off his vulnerability. He’s always been a dead-silent crier, so you have zero way to gauge how bad things are until you see his face. He looks like he’d sobbed his heart out. Your shirt is still wet from the rain, but even then you can feel Sam’s tears soaking your shoulder. Saying anything about it will just embarrass him, though.
“...I-I, uh,” you lick the tears off your lips, mumbling, “I don’t know bout’ you, but I’m beat. Do you have somewhere you gotta be, or,” you add hopefully, “or can you stick around?”
This is the part where Sam will start coaxing you to drive back with him to where he and Dean are holed up, you’re sure of it. You’re already plotting in your head what to pack and what to take, but Sam never brings it up. He doesn’t worry about tomorrow yet.
He presses his lips together. “I was hoping I could stay here tonight, actually.”
This is an even better answer. You’re nodding before he’s even finished the thought, stroking your hand down his chest. It twists your gut in knots to see him like this, so you start to steer the conversation toward something more playful, something less daunting to think about.
“You’re lucky I like you then,” you smirk. Somehow, you manage to peel yourself out of his bubble and teeter toward your dresser, scrubbing the tears off your face. “Make yourself comfortable. I dunno about you, but I’m getting the fuck out of these work clothes, I’m freezing. Do you need anything to sleep in? I’ve got at least five years of your stolen shirts in here.”
You hear him ease himself down on the end of your bed again, but there’s no sassy retort, sly comment, or any sort of line about you and your stealing habits. Instead, sweet and simple, he says, “I’ll just sleep in this. You can have them.”
Okay. Weird.
Since he didn’t take the bait, you throw out another line and try again. This time, you kick off your shoes, open a drawer, and turn back to him with two of his shirts in hand. “Really?” You wave them teasingly in the air. “You sure?”
They are some of his best shirts, easy. You’re not a cheap thief. The first is a holey, feather-soft Red Hot Chili Peppers tee, and the second is a deep maroon Stanford sweater. He has so few artifacts from that time in his life that there’s no way he won’t want this one back. Right?
But Sam just gazes at you, his whole face soft and loving as he says, “You should wear the Stanford one. It looks good on you.”
Those old hot-shivery feelings for him seep down your spine, and you feel in real-time how your cheeks flood with heat. Damn, okay. Consider yourself wooed.
You’ve been down this road with Sam many, many times—enough to know when he’s flirting with you. The forbidden labels had never been thrown around, but. Well. Sam had been your first time, as well as the many other times after that.
He’s usually leagues more subtle than his brother, but for whatever reason he’s pouring it on by the truckload tonight. When you turn around he’s nothing but big, happy puppy eyes, waiting patiently for you at the end of the bed. (Like you’re his girlfriend. Like anything about this is normal at all, and you and Sam are going to tuck into bed together like it’s any other night). Fuck, you missed him.
The bathroom is only a few steps away, but this is Sam, so you decide to just throw on your pajamas right here. Your shirt is so wet that it hits the floor with a slap. It also takes some experience to wring yourself out of your denim-turned-cement jeans, so it’s not the sexiest show in the entire world. Still, Sam’s gaze traces sensual lines down your back. You would rather go to literal, actual hell than wear your bra for a minute longer, so the second you’re free of its death grip, a long happy sigh drains out of you. A similar dreamy sigh drains out of Sam. Dork.
“I will never get tired of that,” Sam murmurs. You expect to hear some kind of hunger there, but the timber of his voice bleeds with admiration and fondness.
There are very few ways to be a normal human being while Sam Winchester adores your nude body with his eyes. The best you can do is burst into flustered, giggly laughter and give him a good eyeroll, your entire face cooking like a stove burner.
“Alright, loverboy,” you scoff, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and take my makeup off—”
“Can I help?” Sam asks.
You sputter out another laugh, confused. “You wanna brush my teeth for me?”
“No,” Sam shakes his head, smiling big, “Lemme take your makeup off for you.”
Okay. Weirder. But it’s sweet, and you like this side of him, so you decide to indulge his mood. “...Sure.”
You go about your night-time routine. Sam continues to be a weirdo, trailing you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe, and blinking slow endearing blinks at you as he… watches you brush your teeth. Just. Stands there, watching, utterly enamored with this little moment of domesticity with you. On the surface level you’re a little thrown off, but it falls under the category of Freaky Sam Things that made you catch feelings for him in the first place, so. You grin into your toothbrush the whole time.
When he’s satisfied by his little ogling fest, he drifts off to hunt around for your makeup wipes. Either you’re predictable or he knows you too well, because he finds them within seconds, and patiently sits back as you finish up your routine, watching you like you’ll disappear on him the moment he turns away. Click click, you feel inside you.
“Okay,” he says when you’re done. “Close your eyes.”
You do. You wait for the cool touch of the wipe on your face, but instead, Sam’s big, rough fingers find your chin and hold you still. It takes conscience effort to not melt into his touch like a cat in a square of sunlight. Your willpower is nothing on Sam’s, though, so you give in quickly, sinking into his hand and sighing through your nose. In gentle swipes, he cleans your face. It must be a nightmare of smeared mascara considering how you’d cried earlier… And yet Sam had still been so transfixed by you. He’s the fucking best.
Sam’s hand tilts your head from side to side to survey his handiwork. Pleased, he tosses the wipe in the trash and says, “There you go.”
You open your eyes and go to double-check his work in the mirror, but Sam hasn’t removed his hand from your chin, and you really, really don’t want him to. His thick thumb comes up and caresses under your lips. He looks at you like he loves you, and with all the honesty in the world, he utters, “...You are so pretty.”
…The only way for you to survive this is by throwing him a dry look. “You’re full of shit. What’s your game, Winchester?”
That earns you another authentic Sam laugh, along with a handsome boyish smile. “There’s no game. What are you talking about?”
You squint at him. Liar.
“This.” You gestured between the two of you, suspicious. “You’re mooning over me. Why are you mooning? Are you planning something?”
A ripple of discomfort rolls across Sam’s face, but it passes too fast for you to read. His hands go right back in his pockets and he leans into the doorframe again. “I’m just… happy we’re not fighting,” he confesses.
Oh. That makes sense. Sam hasn’t exactly made up with you like that before, but. These times change everyone. You ease up on your teasing and admit, “Me too.”
“I’m sorry for scaring you away,” Sam says, and far, far too seriously for your liking, he whispers, “I’m sorry for everything.”
Your answer slips right out of your mouth without hesitation. “I forgive you, stupid,” your brows furrow together. “And I’m sorry, too. I said some pretty shitty stuff back there.”
Sam wilts against the doorframe a little. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”
A dull pulse of anger flares in your chest, which flickers out and dies not a second later. There’s so much you want to say to that.
It is so fucking unfair—biblically, cosmically unfair—that Sam, the good guy to end all good guys, thinks of himself this way. He is the kind of righteous they make saints out of. And yet he sits in your silly little bathroom in your shitty little apartment and gives you that look, the look that says, I deserve this and so much more. I deserve to rot in hell for all eternity. He gave you that exact look when he brought up saying yes. He gives it to you now, because Sam sees everything as a sin to serve penance for—freeing Lucifer from the cage and making you a little worried. He thinks he’s so evil, so beyond saving. It makes you want to get your fists in your shirt and just shake him.
You’re good! You want to scream. Just for once in your life, listen to me! None of this is your fault!
There’s nothing you could say to him that would ever make him let go of his guilt. But, at the very least, you could help him forget about it for a while.
“You beat yourself up too much,” you scold. Then, softer, you add, “C’mere, Sammy.”
Sam does as told, planting himself right in front of you. God, he’s changed. You look him over with a bittersweet smile. He used to be so spindly. The last few years have filled him out, forcing his body into something ready for war. The hunt reached in and tore all sorts of things out of people, but you’d been wrong about what it’d ripped out of Sam. His optimism was still there, warm and humming in the tissue of his body, and just seeing it fills you with hope. He looks so different from the man you’d had all to yourself in that cabin, but you can feel that he’s still in there. He’s still your Sam.
You take his face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs into his dimples and quietly, needily rasping, “...Can I take care of you?”
Sam’s whole body shudders with relief. “Please, yes.”
The next few beats of this dance haven’t changed. Like always, Sam comes flying in with a big, smashing kiss that shatters any leftover barriers between you. You’re not Sam’s girlfriend and he’s not your boyfriend, but Sam makes you his with this kiss. (If only for a little while). Your noses mash together and his eyes squeeze shut and then everything is just Sam, Sam, Sam at every angle. His hands are at his sides then suddenly they’re all over you, taking two greedy handfuls of your waist under the Stanford sweater. He jams your hips against his and kisses you senseless, towering over you, surrounding you, so that when you pull back to gasp for breath your lungs are flooded with his familiar heady love potion.
Either he’s giving off some Poison Ivy-level pheromones, or your body is so familiar with these steps that it knows what comes after this kiss… because you’re instantly wet.
You realized a long time ago that you and Sam have sex a bit too often for it to be considered “casual,” but even if it was, Sam is not a casual kind of lay. After that first soul-stealing kiss, Sam stares you down like a four-course meal, spins you around, pushes you down chest-first onto the bathroom counter, drops to his knees—
—and shoves his face between your legs like it’s his goddamn job.
In the middle of all your surprised shrieking and squirming, Sam nuzzles his face into your panties and moans deep and bassy in his throat, “Yes.”
Like he’s won something. Like he’s been waiting weeks to do this. Holy fuck, you’ll never get tired of that.
The second you have even an atom of your reason back, you slap a hand over your mouth. Neighbors! Sam has already forgotten what neighbors are, and is holy-mission-from-god-determined to make you noisy. He’s extra hungry for it tonight, too. You squeak out his name, not so much in shock, but more because having those huge hands squeezing where your ass starts to round out tends to produce a reaction, and Sam rumbles like a lawnmower in approval. Holy fuck.
He doesn’t have to ask you to spread your legs. One of the hands appreciating your ass slides between your thighs, cupping you through your underwear, and you have to try not to squeal when the meaty pad of Sam’s thumb swipes across your clothed folds. He presses a big kiss in that exact spot as he drags your panties down your legs, and it’s a weirdly sweet gesture that makes your heart and your belly flutter with shivery heat. Fuck. Fuck, you missed him so much.
The first few times Sam had sprung this move on you, you hadn’t exactly had enough time to fully rev up. But Sam is deadly efficient in and out of the bedroom, so he makes a point to get you extra wet (for him) with his spit, laving his hot, slippery tongue over you in one long swipe. He eats you out with all the obscene, noisy enjoyment of somebody gorging on the juiciest fruit they’ve ever tasted. Even you are scandalized.
It becomes embarrassingly clear that covering your mouth isn’t going to keep Sam from what he wants. The high, desperate moan you try to stifle only makes him work harder. You press an arm flat to the counter and bury your face in it for strength, since you’re weak and whimpering for him already.
Sam was good in bed when you met him. But, by nature, he is a relentless and avid learner, and it’s been five whole years since he put his mouth on you for the first time. Now, Sam is a certified pussy-eating weapon. He knows your body better than anyone possibly could. You’re over the edge in a minute flat.
Your climax flies through you in one whizzing, sparking rush, then keeps flying, until your body’s squeezing out little squeaky pleas for mercy of its own accord. This is his favorite part. You claw into the countertop and wail for it, pushing at the floor in your socks to gain any sort of leverage. To press closer? To squirm away? You have zero fucking clue, since the thought part of your brain has been blasted into a smoking crater. Sam wraps a big arm around your spasming thigh to pin you open, and holy fucking shit, could that man suck the chrome off a tailpipe. His mouth is a whirlwind of licking and suction just on the right side of oh fuck too much that makes your skin feel like it’s fizzing. You are a thread that he’s just pulling and pulling until you’re so thin you could snap into nothing—
You wait for the moment when Sam pops off you, stands up, and goes for his zipper, but he never does. He remains on the floor, determined to lick you through overstimulation and straight into round two. But that’s a whole minute you could spend with his dick inside you instead, and there’s no fucking way you’re wasting that. Not when he’s here and real and not going to say yes. Sam’s not going anywhere. He’s staying, he’s alive, and the world isn’t going to end tomorrow.
“No no no,” you bite out in one short, rattling breath. “S-Suh—Sam, please please—” An unexpected sob shreds out of you. “Miss you. Need you.”
You’re actually, genuinely crying, and not entirely in the fun sexed-out way. Sam backs up. He’s not even halfway standing when you wrench him up the rest of the way, straight into a desperate, maddening kiss. It’s a brutal cross of teeth and tongue. The need for body heat and skin and him burns through you like genuine bloodlust, so you cram yourself up against him with life-or-death urgency. You get your nails into him until you feel something like shirt fabric and viciously yank it over his head, waiting for the moment when he grabs your wrists or shoves you onto the bed o-or—or starts to blow off steam. Cause’ that’s what this is all about, right?
He drags your mouths apart. Sam pants, “Slow down.”
You stop.
This is. This is new.
There’s no slowing, with this. You both go and you keep going until there’s no more fuel in your tanks, and you crawl out of bed the next day feeling like you’ve beaten the rot out of each other. You’ve never once slowed down during this before, and as your wheels spin to a halt for the first time, reality filters back in around you.
Sam stares at you. His hair is all over the place. A patchy blush speckles up his heaving chest, burning in his ears and in his cheeks. Your slick shines on his lips and the bulb of his nose. He’s just standing there and fucking looking at you, but for whatever reason it feels like the color has seeped back into the world.
“S’okay. Gonna be okay,” Sam hushes, bleeding with sweetness.
He picks up your hands, moving you as if you were a delicate glass he was turning over in each palm. Each of your hands are kissed in the center (oh my fucking god) then wrapped around his neck, and when he has you in his bubble he scoops up your face and kisses you.
It’s a boyfriend kiss. Not a blowing off steam thing, or any other excuse the two of you have used to feel each other. A genuine, I’m your boyfriend and I love you sort of kiss, foreheads pressed together, noses touching, the whole nine yards. It’s the kind of kiss that’s meant to say something. Every inch of what he’s trying to tell you echoes through your body in one ringing smash, like you’re a big cymbal he’s taken a mallet to.
He slips off your lips and hovers, bracing himself for impact. You suck in a rattling breath.
…Then you press up onto your tiptoes to give him a kiss of your own, just pressing your lips against his, unmoving. It’s undemanding; an answer. You try to find the words to describe the shift that’s occurred between you, and end up feeling stuttery and shivery and fucking elated. Romantic. It’s fucking romantic.
“Sammy,” you sob out.
“Shhh. C’mere,” Sam whispers, his voice throaty and whiskey smooth. “Lemme make it better.”
He tries to walk you straight back out of the bathroom and towards the bed, he really does, but you stop Sam every other step to overwhelm him with obsessed, affectionate kisses. God. His chapstick is all over your fucking mouth (along with your slick) and his hands are everywhere else, feeling instead of grabbing.
“You always do,” you breathe, and that might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said to him in bed.
Sam gets this quiet, pleased smile on his face. No matter how naked and turned-on you are, you’ve always got a snappy reply ready, and you’re about to throw one at him—until you’re fucking obliterated. He smoothes his palms down your arms. Your wrists are scooped up again. With all the tenderness on the planet, Sam slides in close, kisses your throat, and places both of your hands firmly on his belt.
“Take it off,” he rasps.
This. This isn’t the first time he’s given you that order. But knowing, feeling that he’s playing this all out like it’s more than a fling to him… that Sam’s gonna fuck you like you’re someone special to him… sweet jesus, it makes you lightheaded.
“Bossy,” your murmur, grinning.
You’re downright feverish going in to kiss him next. Sam parts your lips with a slow, sinful swipe of his tongue, and there must be a drop of psychic still in him, because suddenly you’re flooded with visions of that filthy mouth between your legs. You can still feel the ghost of him there, keeping you open with his thumbs as the blunt tip of his tongue pushes you somewhere vast and sparkly and wonderful. This is going to be even better.
He sounds like he’s praying when he says, “I just like to watch you.”
Muscle memory serves. You work his clasp open without peeking down and let it hang in his belt loops, mostly because it lets his jeans sling low on his hips in the most enticing way. His belly twitches at even the slightest touch of your hands; always so responsive. Sam drops his forehead on your shoulder to watch you work, and you take the rare opportunity to kiss the top of his head. This is one of your favorite parts. When his button is undone and his zipper’s down, you’re free to smooth your hand under his waistband and take a big handful of him.
You reach in and—squeeze. Sam’s hand snaps up to clutch your arm. His nails dig in, and he rocks forward onto his tiptoes to really dig into your touch. “Yes.”
It’s the kind of soft, needy sound that makes you want to smother him with kisses and hug him until he suffocates. Instead, you cooly purr into his hair, “So sensitive, Sammy.”
A hoarse, sharp laugh snaps out of him, which dissolves into a shuddering groan. You tug at his jeans until they’re somewhere you don’t care about anymore, and forget about everything else entirely at the sight of his cock. All these years of sneaking around with him have conditioned you. Just seeing the pretty speckling of dark hair that leads to it, then the real deal, hanging blood-hot and heavy between his legs, makes your tummy flip and your mouth water. One of a million embarrassing Sam-reactions you’ll have to bring to your grave.
You take his cock in your hand, trying to swallow back the slutty amount of saliva in your mouth. Sam whimpers. A real, desperate sound, with his nails stinging down your arms and everything.
“Know you wanted to slow down,” you struggle between open-mouthed pants, “b-but—can’t—don’t wanna wait—”
Sam physically curls towards you, his hips seizing into your hand and his arms hooking around your shoulders. You’re dragged in for a sloppy kiss so deep you swear it melds your souls together. Sam is just as affected, rumbling like a racecar in approval.
“Then don’t.” He begs.
If this was any other night, Sam would just take. You’d be face down and drilled halfway through the mattress by now, no preamble, all business. He got off and you got off and everyone was happy that way. Sam would want the room dark and you would hide your face in the bedding, the two of you eager to touch and experience but terrified of breaking the illusion. He’s so generous that you suppose he’s got to have at least one place in life where he’s selfish, and you’re happy to be his outlet for it, but.
You’ve never seen him take this way before.
He looks at you and he never really stops, transfixed. You don’t doubt you could walk in a circle around him and Sam’s eyes would follow you the whole way, his gaze oozing with longing and something else—resolution? Faith? You push him onto the bed, and he drops down as if hobbling into a pew for the first time, unsure how to clasp his hands in prayer because it’s only ever been something done in his head before.
You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do next.
“God,” Sam utters, spellbound.
You’re blushing so hard that you forget to be sexy as you crawl into his lap, but Sam doesn’t care, still giving you those big slow doe blinks to express his love. It’s so different from the Sam you know (yet also so deeply, deeply him) that you forget what it means to be sexy entirely. He coaxes you closer to plant tender kisses under your chin, and the plan to seductively peel off your sweater for him and flash him your tits blips out of existence.
You wait for the moment when Sam shreds the Stanford sweater off you. Instead, those wonderful fucking hands tease under the hem to squeeze your waist, and Sam croaks out between kisses, “Should wear this all the time. You’re beautiful in anything, but this… you’re… mmn.”
Your heart gives a pathetic flutter. You press mindless kisses against his mouth and rock your bare core down on his lap, because he’s never acted this way before and you don’t know how else to return the favor. “Not nearly as beautiful as you, Sammy.”
The only reaction you get from him is a single huff out of his nose, like it’s something he can’t commit a whole laugh to. Like none of that matters anymore, like it would never matter for Sam, because his body may be beautiful, but it hardly belongs to him anymore. God, you’re shitty at compliments.
You’re fucking wonderful, you suddenly want to tell him. A whole swarm of little truths and sweet nothings roars straight up to the surface of your mind, a whole sea of better things you could say to him, but then one of those perfect hands is slipping between your legs and Sam’s asking you in that perfect, tinted glass voice, “You still on the pill?”
“Yes, doctor,” you tease.
Another flood of sticky heat rushes between your legs, because that question is always a precursor to being pressed into and filled and stuffed end-to-end by Sam’s dick. The one barrier that doesn’t—didn’t exist between you.
“Good,” Sam sighs, relieved, grateful. He never turned down going raw in the past, but he’s downright starved for it right now. Closer closer closer, his whole body begs.
You’re tugged in by a big hand hooked around your back, and you fall right into Sam’s summer-warm, sweat-sticky chest, giggling. He loops both arms around your middle and teddy-bear squeezes even more laughter out of you. The only way to hold yourself up is by planting two hands on his shoulders… which turns into his cupping his neck… then caressing his face, because it’s impossible to be witness to that quiet boyish grin and not shower him in affection. There’s all these little freckles on him that you can only see up close. He feels good, mystical good, prophetic-chosen-one type good.
This is the moment. You can feel the blood in your body pounding between your legs, and Sam’s cock bumps not-so-innocently against your core as you kiss one another. Every shift of his hands sends your muscles clenching tight, bracing for impact, but Sam doesn’t push into you just yet.
Your confusion must be clear on your face, because he says, “Just let me feel you for a second.”
And, obviously, you’re not an idiot, so you let Sam feel you for as long as he pleases. For the next ten uninterrupted minutes, you makeout like lovesick teenagers, whimpering and sighing and swallowing every sound the other makes. You’d always pegged him as a romantic. But seeing it, feeling it, adds a whole new dimension to him you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.
By the time the pool of need in your gut has opened up into a blackhole, Sam has caressed or squeezed or kissed every part of you ten times over. He continues to be weird and obsessed with you. (So still in character, then). Sam even pinches the ends of your ears and smooths his thumbs over the bumps of your ankles, being sexy about it but also a little terrifying. He touches you like he’s never gonna see you again.
Around the time that Sam starts suckling marks into your neck and trying to tickle you under your arms, you giggle out, “O-Okay—okay! Enough—!”
“Enough what?” Sam cocks his head. His hand makes another dive for your belly, making you shriek and squirm with more giggles. You try to wriggle away to protect your tickling sides, but Sam’s too strong and you’re a little in love with him, so it’s easy for him to pull you flush against him and blow tingly-warm breaths beside your ear. He purrs, “You need it that badly?”
“Fucking yes! So quit torturing me,” you pant, and you’re pretty sure this grin is going to get stuck on your face.
Sam’s smile gets even bigger. “Only if you say please.”
Your attitude slips from your grip like water. Next time, you’ll play push and pull with him, but right now there needs to be a lot more pushing and pulling in a different context.
The words are out of your mouth in an instant. “Please, Sam.”
As reluctant as he is to stop teasing you, Sam’s a little in love, too. He leans back enough to fist his cock in one hand, and you can’t help how your breath hitches when Sam’s touch follows the curve of your ass to where you’re soaked and sensitive for him. Those thick, maddening fingers spread you open. The velvety tip of his cock finds your hole right away, and your legs nearly give out when Sam starts to swipe himself up and down your folds one dizzying stroke at a time. Back…. and forth. Up… and down. Jesus fucking Christ.
“Okay, fine…” He concedes, his eyes glittering with joy. “You’re just so cute when you act all tough.”
Maybe not all of your attitude is gone. You bark out a laugh, telling him, “I hate you.”
Sam presses down for the last time, then presses in. You don’t mean to look into his eyes when he fills you up, and that’s probably what does you in. Sam’s rosy face flutters and twists with pleasure, but he never stops looking at you, not even once, terrified to miss even a small moment. The long hitching moan that slips out of you makes his whole face darken with desire. You’re pulled onto him deeper and deeper and deeper until—click. Cue the angel choir.
Your fingers dig desperately into his hair. Sam curls into you in one slow pulling movement, a thread pulled taut, until his face is stuffed in your neck and his hands are mindlessly scrabbling down your back.
“God, I love you,” he moans.
Soon your pussy feels achy and hair-trigger-sensitive and beyond full, which could mean that you’re all the way on him. It’s impossible to tell, since the first full minute of having Sam’s dick inside you sends you straight to the moon every time, where everything falls in peaceful slow-motion and the whole world hums with cosmic, sparkling pressure. You shove your face into him and nuzzle in a daze, little ripples of electricity sparking up your spine.
…Wait.
“What?” You register, slow.
Sam is still clutching you for dear life, even if the moment’s slowed and you’re both comfortable. He hugs you full-bodied, nose in your neck, tilted forward, the kind of hug where he sways you side to side with joy. Sam sucks in a harsh breath. Can’t hold back anymore.
“I love you,” he gushes. The words burn out of him, declarative, overjoyed.
There’s so much you want to say to that. But then Sam digs his fingers into your ass and pulls you off his lap, only to gloriously sink you down the rest of the way, and. Fuck fuck fuck. His cock drags thick and hot against the pliant walls of your pussy. You couldn’t be any more full if you tried, clamping down on him with long, silky ripples of pressure that outline the shape of him inside you in obscene detail. It’s the kind of mind-blowing that’s beyond comprehension, beyond feeble human understanding. Your eyes squeeze shut and you whimper into his hair.
“God, I love you,” he chants again through grit teeth. “So much. So fucking much.”
You find his face with your hands and kiss him quiet, tasting the promise in his mouth. When you part and the two of you really start to move, you kiss him again, and again, whispering where only he can hear, “I-I love you too.”
It should scare you how easily the confession slips out. You should be terrified, because even if you live to see next week, or next month, or next year, even if Sam isn’t saying yes to Lucifer, those words are a death sentence. And yet.
“I-I miss you,” you choke out, “I need you.”
“Me too. So much,” Sam soothes, his voice tight and sharp with restraint. You know his instinct is to jackhammer up into you and never stop, but he puts in effort to resist, letting you both marinate in the wonderful, glistening, twitchy feeling of each other. His hands are rubbing your back and he is so fucking warm, turning the rain outside to steam.
He doesn’t bounce you on his dick. It’s more of a slow, cresting drag, waves stroking a beach. You don’t think you could handle much more than that, anyway—sometimes these positions make him feel big enough to pop you like a balloon. What you can’t fit on your own, your weight pushes you down onto anyway, turning your whole body into a big expanding bubble of pressure ready to burst at any moment. You clutch at his shoulders and just throb around him for a second.
“Nuh-uh,” Sam leans away, not letting you shove your face in him like you want. Instead, a big hand cups one side of your neck and keeps you in front of him. “Wanna see your face. Look at me. Look at me,” he insists, genuinely pleading.
When your eyes find his, that’s when he decides to snap up into you for real. You don’t even get a full look at him. The arm slung around your waist drags you up off your wobbling knees, then slams you down into a beautiful, endless white space popping with color.
“Sammy!” You choke.
That’s the magic word. You’re instantly thrust up into four more lightning-fast times, one-two-three-four, and hitch out four squeaky gasps to match. Sam’s eyes bore into yours with every beat, blazing with liquid love. For a second you wonder if you’ve fallen back into your rough routine again. But then words and thoughts melt out of your brain altogether, because Sam draws you into the tenderest, sweetest kiss human beings are capable of, fucking into you deep and smooth with that deeper, smoother voice, “Keep saying that.”
Sammy Sammy Sammy, you rattle out under your breath. Sam hisses out your name the exact same way.
You do your best to help him out a little, bobbing up and down in his lap, but’s a drop of water in the ocean for him. All Sam cares about is seeing your reaction. He soaks up everything you do like a sponge, moaning when you moan, gritting his teeth when you bite your lip, grinding up as you stir down. The weight of his eyes on you is so heavy that your skin stings in its wake. Again, it’s Sam’s brand of freak-sweetness that makes you get stupid notions in your head about wedding rings and anniversary presents. But that’s—
…something he knows about. Something he just said to you five minutes ago. Above the haze of bouncing, rhythmic pleasure, you’re flooded with relief. You can tell him! Holy fuck, you can tell him!
“I love you,” you gasp out again, and just saying it feels like it could save the world. “O-oh, god, Sam—”
The breath you have left is stolen from you by another fierce kiss from him, so passionate it lets you taste the bassy, happy hum that rumbles in Sam’s throat. You’re devoured by feverish kisses for a full minute, then Sam pops off you to sob, “So much—so fucking much, yes.”
He slips a hand between the two of you to thumb your clit, stirring in and never once stopping. Every so often he’ll brush up against where you’re hot and filled to the hilt with him, your bodies sliding together with slick, filthy noises that are so—so fucking much that your thighs cramp up, protesting the constant pistoning. But the pleasure is easily worth the burn. Your core booms with long echoes of pleasure that shudder through the trembling spiderwebs that make up your nerves. You make a move to lean back on your hands and switch up the angle, (since you’re a damn good cowgirl, thank you very much), but Sam refuses to stop kissing you. He physically pulls you back in with a hand fished around your neck and kisses you breathless, determined to pound you to your climax one thorough snap of his hips at a time.
“So beautiful,” Sam gushes. His voice is hoarse and thready, like he’s moments away from bursting into tears of pure desire.
You smooth your hands down his flushed cheeks, telling him between huffy moans, “It’s okay, s’ okay, Sammy… so pretty… love you so much…”
You feel him pull the Stanford sweater up over your ass and out of his way, exposing more, more, more of your bare skin for him to touch. Sam palms the slope of your back and your belly in a daze, but that’s still not enough—he’ll never be satisfied with how little of you he’s had. He wants more. He wants forever. You embrace each other to the fullest, cheeks smushed together, chests flush, his parted lips claiming your throat, making you his—but. Sam’s breath ratchets up. Not enough not enough not enough—
In one ragged motion, Sam rolls you both over, tossing you back-first onto the bedding and smothering you with his weight.
A squeal of delight jumps out of you. “Hey!”
If Sam wasn’t all over you before, then he literally is now, dropping onto his elbows so he can cup your face in both hands and surround you completely. “Sorry,” he croaks, “need you. Need to fill you up.”
You whisper against his lips, “Then fill me up already.”
His thumbs press into your cheeks a little. Sam’s breath fans across your face, throttled by the lump in his throat.
“Tell me you love me again.”
Um. You don’t exactly have the sexy heat of the moment to hide behind this time, but you still want to say it for him. His eyes swim with something unreadable. Desire and love, enough love to put a lump in your throat too, but a third thing also. It worries you.
You bring your hands up to stroke his wrists, and give a bit too much of your soul to him when you promise, “...I love you, Sam.”
The words hit him like a bullet. Sam shudders from head to toe, unable to reign himself in any longer, and plants a long, surging kiss on your mouth that makes your belly flash with nuclear levels of lust. He squirms his hands underneath your body so he can cradle you against him—genuinely cradling, one palm cupping the back of your neck—and then burrows into you face-first, groaning your name as his cock nestles itself as deep as it can go.
With all of his weight on top of you, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. You caress and kiss and dig your nails into him, and somewhere along the way you’re given a dose of whatever has made him fucking insane for you right now. It fogs your head and turns your reason to ash, so when Sam returns to ruining you for any other man, you whimper, “Please don’t leave me.”
“Oh, baby,” Sam hiccups out, and something strange hangs in his voice.
You would ask him what’s wrong, but the shuddering, flimsy scraps left of your brain are busy being blasted all over by white-hot pleasure. Everything scorches. Sam’s bare skin and his breath and his hands feel fucking molten, melting you down like hot glass. You’re pinned down in every possible way, and it pushes the sinking, gorgeous pressure inside you all over your body, like it’s not just Sam’s cock filling you up, but him, just him, the source of all good in the world. Holy fucking fuck. His hips glide back and then thud back into you again and again and again. You get why it’s called making love, now. You can taste your love for him in the back of your throat, feel it sitting in a sticky film on your skin. It hangs like humidity in the air of your apartment. And jesus christ, it bleeds from Sam, glowing off him like fucking radiation.
When you’re shamelessly wailing gut-deep in ecstasy, Sam peels himself off you. He forces himself to sit up. His chest putters up and down with desperate little breaths, and a gloriously big hand scoops under your thigh and welds it against your chest. Whatever he sees from this new angle—probably your wet, abused pussy stretched tight around the full base of his cock—makes Sam gape, utterly transfixed. You watch as his mouth falls open, and then those dark, soul-swallowing eyes crawl up your body to meet yours.
“Keep lookin’ at me,” Sam rasps.
Even if he doesn’t sway your opinion with a few dizzying, stomach-deep drags of his cock, (which he does), you’re convinced. You lock eyes with him—and then suddenly feel stupid for not watching him the whole time. A long curl of hair hangs in his eyes and sways as he fucks into you. His expression flutters with these sinful little giveaways, exposing just how starved he is for you, how in love. Maybe if you’d looked back sometime in the past five years, that’s what you would’ve seen: how much this has always meant to him. He searches your face for the same pleasure, obsessed with his effect on you.
“Fuck,” you shudder out. “C-could cum just watchin’ you, Sammy.”
“That’s right,” he hisses, and you’ve never heard him sound so damn happy. “Cum for me. Please. Look so pretty when you do.”
Usually, when he makes you cum, it’s the roughest part of the whole act. He’d get both your wrists pretzeled behind your back and pinned viciously in one of his hands, and that’s when you’d know the big finish was coming. His pace would go from bouncing to bruising. But this Sam, your Sam, would stop time if he could, so he slows down even further, winding you closer and closer to the top of the mountain with little figure-eights of his hips. He gazes down at you the same way you’re sure you must gaze up at him. Beautiful, he murmurs under his breath.
You utter another, tight, almost-sob of, “love you so much, Sammy,” and his dick twitches wildly shoved in you to the hilt.
“Ohh—shit,” he chokes out, and his other hand snaps desperately towards yours on the bed. They find each other easily, and you squeeze his hand with everything you’ve got, infusing in him all the love he’s infused in you.
The slow, mounting tsunami of perfection you’ve been moving towards finally overcomes you, and in one long gorgeous slippery rush you cum for Sam. And because your life is a movie—he cums for you too. He rocks faster and falls forward to kiss you, your faces pressed together, your mouths slotting against each other, your pussy squeezing down on him in golden rippling strokes. Sam hisses your name out between his teeth as he cums. You’re lanced straight through by a whole fucking universe of fluttering, flickering pleasure. To be honest, you’re a little pissed about it—because it’s the best fucking orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, and it’s all because Sam raggedly chants those words to you again and again, laying sloppy, obsessive, head-over-heel kisses all over your face. Love you love you so much baby you feel so good squeezin’ down on me.
You could’ve had this ages ago. How much more time could you have had with him, if you had just stopped being stupid?
Sam’s crazed, sobbing, hitching I love yous somehow become, in true Sam fashion, a low spiral of thank yous. He lays there and clutches you until there’s a Sam-shaped imprint in your body. You’re pretty sure he would stay inside you all night if he could, but you coax him into some cuddling instead, since you both are in desperate need. It’s. It’s new, but it feels cleansing in the holy way.
What feels like hours later, your brain dimly connects to the rest of your body. You’re halfway through detangling Sam’s hair with your fingers as he hides face-first in your chest, pretending he’s not embarrassed that he cried. At least, that’s what you assume. The Winchester mind is a mysterious one, and as much as you would hope to know what Sam’s thinking, the slow hand drawing circles on your hip tells you nothing. Is he shy that he got emotional? That seems silly, since you both sobbed into each other earlier. Is he embarrassed about everything he confessed? Does he regret it?
Just when your train of thought really starts to take the curves of your spiral hard, Sam tiredly croaks into your neck, “I meant what I said, y’know.”
He draws in a lungful of your perfume through his nose, soaking up as much of you as he can possibly get. His hands smooth over your body, innocent and loving, caressing you, memorizing you, begging silently for forgiveness.
Sam is a dead-silent crier. But you hear him sniffle as he gushes, “God, I love you.”
Maybe if you hadn’t been so tired, you would’ve picked up on it. Or maybe you’d heard it in his voice, seen it, something, and ignored it, hoping it was something else. Everything he felt, he put into a teeny, unmarked box that he’d bury god knows where, far from where anybody could be hurt by it. Sam didn’t—he wouldn’t say that to you. Not unless it was the last time he ever could. He would feel it, but it’d go right into that box where it couldn’t hurt you. You should’ve known.
Lie to me, you’d begged him.
…And Sam had.
_
The dull realization that you are awake sets in around noon. Noon as in after-noon, well past when you’re normally up and at em’. When you wonder why the hell you slept in so late, you remember last night’s rain, thrashing against the windows all night, and Sam, his face haloed by lamplight and bleeding with quiet resolution.
Sam. Alive, and not going to say yes.
He’d been the one to keep you up all night. With his mouth and his hands, yes, but then afterward he’d been hellbent on talking. Just… talking. You’d been sluggish and cozy and sated after having sex, but no matter how close you came to falling asleep, Sam wouldn’t let it happen. For two straight hours he asked you every question he could come up with to keep you up with him.
Do you remember when we met? Cause’ I do. Do you remember what I said to you? Do you remember what you thought about me? I remember thinking how similar we were, y’know, how much we’d get along. You were so pretty… my whole face went red every time you looked at me. Do you remember…?
Being cuddled, kissed, and protected by the man you love really tempts a girl to doze off, too, so this was not an easy battle. But Sam persisted. He studied your face intently, uttering I love yous even when sleep started to pull you under. Hearing any Winchester drop those words on you still blew your fucking mind, to be honest. Sam especially. But it was romantic as it was worrying, so you’d shut him up with a kiss goodnight and echoed it back to him. Love you, Sammy. It was probably just an anxiety thing, you assumed—Sam, for some fucking reason, was a pretty insecure guy, so you imagined that was his way of making sure you wanted all of this. He seemed… scared. He wasn’t used to being wanted.
The apocalypse was still on. Maybe the world would end tomorrow, or maybe you’d get lucky and live a whole lifetime with Sam. Regardless, he’s never saying yes to Lucifer, and that alone means that there’s still hope for the future. You’re going to spend every second of it making Sam feel wanted.
Sitting up in bed, you scrubbed at your sleepy face with the heel of your hand and stared around the room. Sam was physically incapable of staying asleep after five in the morning, so the familiar evidence of his military-efficient morning routine was all over the place. You smiled to yourself. He’d picked up after the two of you, and had tucked another blanket over you in your sleep. Stupid chivalrous dumbass.
To think, you’d been terrified you’d never see him again just last night.
You push out of bed, only to almost buckle onto the carpet rag-doll style. Even being torturously gentle, that man manages to make you sore. With a very, very happy groan, you hop (and wince) into some clean underwear, then traipse out into your kitchen to show that dork who’s boss.
“Dammit, Samuel, you’re not my maid—” you start to say, but of course, this is Sam, who wouldn’t miss a morning run for anything. Right. That explains your empty kitchen.
…But it’s afternoon. Sam would be back by now. Your gut prickles with a bad feeling, and you superstitiously sweep your apartment, looking for him. His clothes from last night are still sitting in your hamper, his shirt folded neatly in your dresser and his watch on your nightstand. A spike of nausea rolls through you seeing that his jacket is gone—and his boots. But his duffle—it’s. It’s still on your kitchen table. It looks a little smaller than usual, but his books and his laptop are still inside. He probably just ran out to run some silly errand for you, determined to make up for worrying you so much. Yeah.
You force your hunter’s paranoia down to a simmer, padding over to your breakfast table. There’s a big ol’ note smack dab in the center of it, perched on his half-open duffle bag, and you start to play with one of the bracelets Sam left behind as you pick it up.
You cross your fingers, smiling ear-to-ear. “C’mon. All bets on breakfast. Please be getting me breakfast, please be getting me breakfast—”
…That’s not what the note says.
You read it.
Then you read it again, and the hammer falls, crushing the breath out of you and doubling you over the kitchen table. You read the note for the third time, needing to be sure, and the thin sliver of hope you had—maybe you’d just read it wrong, m-maybe he was fine—turns to ash. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.
You’re fighting back a surge of ugly, choking tears in an instant. He’s… Sam… he…
Your whole apartment lingers with the heat and goodness of him, like he’d been here just minutes ago. Just seconds. Even your clothes still smell like Sam. Just inhaling it tears chunks out of your reason, like—like you’d just missed him. Clawing around for something to do, you pace in a daze between your bedroom and the front door, desperate to recreate the moment you realized he was gone. You’re still just in the Stanford sweater and your underwear, but you don’t give a single shit and go careening out into the hall, stalking up and down your floor for him—because, b-because Sam wouldn’t, he wouldn’t do that to you—he would tell you first, he would never leave you in the dark like this—
…But you know Sam. And if it meant fixing his mistakes, saving you, saving everyone… Then he’d say yes in a heartbeat.
“These belong to you. You deserve a world to live in. I’m sorry - Sam.”
-
tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1@lacilou@cevans-winchester @leigh70@ seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydenny @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1
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(Day 2) Gotta be a moron to wanna be a fighter
Pairing: König x Reader
Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.
(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)
Warning: Smut, Penetration (no mention of reader genitals so could feasibly be PiV or Anal depending on what you rather), lube, pinning down, dirty talk
AN: So some of you have waited a loooong ass time for this, so sorry about that, but it takes a while to do sex scenes, what can I say 👀 for those of you coming across this now or not in the loop, this is basically just a smut chapter for rocky start because I know some of you don’t read it for the smut and just like fluff. So if you do not like smut do not feel you have to read this to be caught up, there is very little plot going on and you will miss basically nothing - it’s just a catch up on what happened day 2 at the hotel! For those of you like me who love a little spice, I hope you enjoy this, I for one loved writing it 😈💕
Part 5.5 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here
-☠️-
After drinking to a point that you were barely speaking English, it should hardly have been a surprise when you’d woken up the next day with a raging hangover. You’d unpasted your eyes, rubbing them with the backs of your hands, and rose up from the sheets slowly, blinking harshly. Surprisingly there were no visible clouds when you’d breathed out, though you still wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the goosebumps rise up like an allergy to the hopeless cold.
“Oh, so you’ve decided to wake up then?”
You startled a little as the deep voice sounded out and frowned when you looked to your side - the side where König lay with his head propped on his arm and his phone in his other hand. Ugh. You groaned and flopped down on the bed beside him, rubbing your head and feeling thoroughly sorry for yourself. It was as if tiny knives were being driven into your brain by little shrieking demons.
“Wish I hadn’t, I feel like shit,” you mumbled, ramming the heels of your hands into your eyes. “And why is it so cold in here?”
Your headache was no joke - it was piercing through your skull like a dull drill. To add insult to injury, König laughed at you loudly, the sound only compounding with the thudding pain. He watched on as you opened your eyes again, only to glare over at him in your most pathetic attempt at a show of anger.
“Well that’s what happens when you drink. And, just so you know, you don’t need to make excuses to cuddle with me anymore, Sneaky.”
“I’m not making excuses, I’m practically getting frostbitten out here,” you huffed, crawling your way over to him.
“Is that so? Well, let me see what I can do about that,” he smiled, ushering you over.
You burrowed into him, wrapping your arms around his sides and shoving your head into the middle of his chest, sighing like a displeased dog. It helped - unsurprisingly. König was like your own personal hot water bottle, his body alone was enough to abate the jittering in your limbs just by reaching out and running his hands across your arms. The petting and the cooing helped as well of course.
“I assume you’re very hungover then?”
You grunted at him.
“Oh dear. What are we going to do with you? Shall we get you a cold shower and get you outside and into the light?”
“Be gentle with me,” you pleaded, already horrified at the thought of having to go out.
“Poor little Sneaky. Are you out of commission today?”
“Not for the whole day…just for now,” you said with a grimace, nuzzling into him further.
“Alright then, you can have a moment to adjust.”
He sighed and indulged you for a few minutes more, gently tracing patterns into the back of your shirt. You hummed as he created looping shapes around your body and occasionally rubbed the knots out of your back, feeling as if you were being smoothed down into caramel. Your breaths came out slower and little by little your eyes sunk closed. Though just as you’d started to fall back asleep you were jolted awake with the gentle brush of his fingers teasing against your sides.
“Hey! Don’t you start that,” you growled.
“Start what?” König asked innocently.
“You know what! Don’t you dare tickle me.”
“Or what?” he asked, tilting his head at you with a condescending smile.
“Or I'll kick your ass.”
“You’ll ‘kick my ass’? Really?”
“Don’t test me,” you said weakly, breaking out into a yawn before you could help it.
He laughed at you till his body shook and the sound rattled around your aching skull. It disturbed your peace till you groaned, rolling off of him and over to the other side of the bed. The sheets were frosty cold, though for a split second, you were able to kid yourself into thinking you’d settle and get some more rest.
“You’re not very convincing. Maybe they should’ve called you Sleepy,” König noted, rolling you flat on your back.
He loomed over you, casting a shadow over your field of vision. His hands rested either side of you and disturbed the bed, rolling you ever so slightly as his weight shifted. It was like being in bed with a big cat.
“If I let you call me Sleepy, will you leave me alone?” you asked, rubbing the last of the tiredness from your eyes.
He pretended to think about it for a moment, his eyelashes and messy strands of hair catching odd rays of light from the lacy curtains. He shone for a moment, encased in the glistening rays before he leaned forward into the dark shadows that swallowed your side of the bed. The look of pensiveness washed from his face in an instant, resculpted into a ruthless smile.
“No, I think that you should stop being lazy and get up,” he concluded. “I’ve been lying here all morning wasting away, waiting for you. Look at me, I’m practically skin and bones.”
“Skin and bones? Are you sure?”
You softly ran your fingers against his arms as if to check if he was telling the truth and delighted in hearing the sharp intake of breath followed by his hissed complaint about your cold hands. Sweet revenge. Giving into the sinister smile that worked it’s way over your face, you then attempted to bop his nose, taking it a step further. Though that was barely a thought before your hands were pinned down above your head. Your two hands were snatched from you and captured in his one while the other steadied his shaking frame above you.
“No fair,” you pouted, trying to weakly wriggle out of his grasp.
He was far more awake than you, his body was ready to strike. Meanwhile you still felt heavy and overburdened with your recent stroke of consciousness. No match for him. Though you’d begun to doubt if you were any match for him at all in any circumstances as you came to realise that his grip was an iron shackle around you.
“You making me go hungry isn’t fair either,” he chastised, voice rumbling and deep.
You sucked in a breath and desperatley tried not to let it show how deeply his voice affected every inch of you. The low growl combined with the way he held you was awakening something within you, though you weren’t feeling reciprocal of the hunger he seemed to be talking about. It was enough to make you forget all about the pulsing in your head and drove you to baser instincts, your cheeks heating and your heart pounding.
“What’re you hungry for?” you asked, blinking slowly up at him.
You’d hoped to entice him. Coyly biting your lip and dropping your voice, trying to charm his body to slope even further into yours and take what he wanted, do what you desired.
“You want know what I’m hungry for?” He asked, voice whispering and soft.
“What?” you breathed.
“Two bacon rolls at the very least, and some fruit and- oh stop your groaning. I have needs!”
You’d lost that round.
-☠️-
König - despite ruining your fun - wasn’t a complete taskmaster. He let you slowly meander over to the bathroom and even had the decency to avoid complaining too much when it took you almost an hour to emerge from your room and meet him in the hallway. You’d milked every little second that you could to move at a snail's pace and sit at every opportunity that presented itself.
However, you’d practically had to hold your jaw in place when you finally saw him again. He’d taken a shower as well, and was standing there with his damp fluffy hair and aged Rammstein shirt as if there wasn’t an arctic chill blasting its way through the old hotel. It was ridiculous, that’s what you tried to tell yourself, tried to let that dominate your assessment of him - but nothing could stop you finding him ridiculously hot. The thought of jumping over to him and convincing him against breakfast was only stopped when he took you by surprise and grabbed your hand leading you to the stairway.
“C’mon, or everything will be shut before we make it outside,” he’d urged, making a point to speed up his pace.
You were still taking in his appearance and controlling your rogue urges to stroke his hair and run your hands over his weather hardened body. His muscles were strained and taught and, even when you’d tried to mention that you could go back for his jacket, he’d still insisted that getting to a food source was more important. He only had one thing on his mind, and it wasn’t going to be overridden by the weather or any of the urges you had.
He was nothing if not persistent - something that you were grateful for every time you got the opportunity to lean into him. Smelling the fresh citrusy body wash he’d used while you caressed his arm, you dazedly walked beside him and let him take you to breakfast, nothing more than a passenger along for his ride. A ride that you could hardly complain about, he let you cuddle into him in the booth at breakfast and wrapped his arm around you while you’d waited for food to come. Your cure.
It was important that you’d gotten a good breakfast and fixed yourself up, it prepared you for your mission ahead - sneaking snacks into the hotel without the old bat at reception seeing. Even after a feast fit for several kings, König was still peckish and you’d bought a whole bagful of chocolate and pringles and cookies to ensure you’d avoid being dragged out again. After all, you didn’t want any interruptions to your movie day.
“Happy now?” König asked, stroking your cheek.
You’d gone to your room first and he’d thrown your bag of goods up to you through the window. That was how you’d found yourselves wrapped up and back in your bed again, occasionally munching on snacks while nuzzling into him. Rocky 2 played quietly from your tablet, propped carefully on the flimsy bed stand and served as a nice lazy day movie to cuddle up to. König’s body was nice and soft, and now that you weren’t drunk or hungover you could fully appreciate every contour and soft muscle as he flexed and shifted with his ever present restlessness.
“Very happy actually,” you hummed contentedly.
“Good,” he murmured.
You sighed and watched the movie for a little longer before you’d begun to get distracted. Your eyes had strayed from the screen and onto König’s face. Sharp ridges and little scars were catching your gaze, his sparkling eyes were fixed on the screen, reflecting the moving figures. They hadn’t caught onto your staring yet, which you’d realised all too late was getting a little too gratuitous, so you quickly cast your gaze down toward his T-shirt.
It felt like your head had been filled with cotton. Your hand snaked out and dragged over to the centre of his chest where the fading chunky white letters on his T-shirt were burning holes into your vision - forcing you to mindlessly trace them. You were simpering away while you did it, obsessing over the thought of kissing him. It wasn’t like it’d be the first time, but for some reason you felt too shy to just do it. Perhaps because the only times you’d done it before the moment had been right for it, filled with passion.
This was a different situation entirely. This felt almost…domestic? The air was calm and there was no pulsing static and roaring flames crying passion, you were just lounging in bed together like a long established couple, cosily intertwined. Would it be ok? Would he want you to kiss him out of the blue?
“What are you thinking about?”
You jolted and hazarded a quick look back up at his face, not missing his sly smile. Mind Reader. You bit your lip and finished your ridgid path across the soft second M of Rammstein, shrugging.
“Tell me,” he urged, pinching your hip.
“Not if you do that again,” you laughed, narrowing your eyes at him.
“Alright...tell me then.”
“You have to promise not to laugh.”
“I promise I’ll try not to,” he said seriously, smiling when your eyes slitted further.
You held eye contact for a moment longer, but soon chickened out when you finally decided to tell him what you’d been thinking about. You hoped he wouldn’t think you were being silly for getting all shy about something you’d already done before, as if you weren’t cuddled up to him bed and stroking his chest with no issue.
“I wanna kiss you,” you mumbled.
He was quiet for a second before he exhaled, the rush of his breath coming down warm on your cheeks.
“Why would I laugh about that?”
You looked back up at him and shrugged again, feeling a nervous grin tug at your lips. Even knowing who he was, knowing so many of his habits and flaws and humanity, there was something so intimidating and untouchable about him. No matter what you’d done before.
“Because I was too shy to just do it,” you explained, cheeks heating to boiling temperature. “I’m getting all silly and in my head about it.”
“It's cute that you’re so shy all of a sudden,” he rumbled. “But I hope you know that you can kiss me whenever you’d like.”
Your lip was getting sensitive now, teeth grazing harshly against your swelling flesh. Chills stole their way through your back and sent your limbs shaky as you crawled up to meet his face. Suddenly the room felt like it was a hundred different temperatures all at once.
“Thought we weren’t allowed to use the word cute,” you challenged.
“Only when it’s directed at me.”
You rolled your eyes. He tsked at you - your only warning before he quickly rolled you both over and held you down with the weight of his body. His lower half completely secured you to the shrieking mattress while his arms flanked your sides, a firm reminder that you weren’t going anywhere. It had you swallowing a difficult breath and shifting your legs, adjusting to the tingles that were coursing through your body.
“I don’t think you like me being cute all that much really... I think really you like it better when I’m like this,” he said, his sultry voice like smooth honey to your ears. “Whenever I have you under me, you always look like you’re trying to hold yourself back.”
Freezing temperatures be damned, you were practically sweating through the sheets listening to his voice drop so low. Your eyes felt too full as you took him in, eyelids drooping to compensate for your blown out pupils. You could feel your lashes dancing across your skin like flustered butterflies.
König watched as you adjusted your hands, eyes flicking and following your movements like a hunter. You pushed yourself up and weakly rose, wrapping your arms around his tensing back and pressing your fingers into the bobbling old fabric of his Shirt. That had to go, you thought. This was going to be so much more than a simple kiss, you’d decided, you were ready.
“You’re right. Definitely like this,” you whispered.
With a newly discovered confidence, you met his lips and kissed him deeply. Your head pulsed and throbbed as stars burst across the darkness and pierced through the veil of your eyelids like a firework show. Your chest felt like it was being crushed as you melted against him, the pressure too much, your combined heartbeats creating a frenzy. His mouth was so perfect and his tongue twisting around yours was driving you wild, it had you moaning, a sirens call pervading the room.
The moment lasted as if a spell were cast. As if you were both trapped in time and held close forever in your kiss, melted within an abstract portrait of impossible feelings and highs. Mind scrabbling, you slowly lay back, breaking the kiss and let your hands wander to his sides, coming to the hem of his T-shirt and lifting it slightly, stroking the soft flesh underneath.
“What are you doing?”
Hearing König’s voice snapped you out of your stupor and you giggled, pursing your lips like you’d done something bad. You’d certainly thought of bad things, even if you were only trying to lift his shirt…
“Want to feel you,” you mumbled.
“Oh…I see,” he murmured, quirking his lips and perching his head onto his hand.
He rolled to his side and shifted his weight onto the arm that now dug into the bed beside you, tipping you closer toward him. It was just another reminder of how much of him there was, the sheer size of him. You wanted him so bad, it was the only thought you were capable of thinking as you scrambled to sit up and meet his gaze.
“I need more.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you repeated dazedly.
“Are you sure?” He asked, voice a little more tentative.
“What do you mean, am I sure?” you giggled, body screaming out for him to get back to work. “Of course I’m sure! Are you sure?”
He licked his lips and looked off to the side for a moment, as if some cue cards might appear over by the window. Rocky continued to play in the background - the scene where he goes to the press conference and Creed tears into him. You let out a little exhale of laughter when you hear Stallone talking about snowcones and it draws König’s attention squarely back to you. His eyes are unreadable tomes, he looks like he could be about to say anything which has you holding your breath and unwittingly freezing in place.
“Don’t get me wrong, I want this more than anything but…most of the time whenever I do this- uh, whenever I’ve been with people, they’ve…not been people I’ve really known or cared about, but I really care about you. I don’t want to rush things or do something wrong, you know?”
He barely breathed as he made his confession, his face filled with consternation all the way from his pursing lips to the bob of his adam’s apple. Despite that though, a flood of relief washed through you. He wasn’t pausing because he didn’t want you, he was just getting in his head about things too. Rightfully so, when you knew that deep beneath the cool hard exterior, König had a lot of anxieties buried underneath it all, spackled behind thick walls.
You weren’t sure of the extent of his insecurities, but you knew that you wanted to help to break down those walls in any way you could. With that in mind, you cupped your hand on his cheek and stroked it with your thumb, grazing it along the golden line of his stubble while you looked at him straight in his searching eyes.
“König, I really do want to do this with you and I don’t think you’d do anything that I didn’t want. I can’t even begin to tell you the amount of time I’ve spent thinking about this without sounding like a creep,” you laughed, watching as he dropped his tensed shoulders and seemed to shed his anxiety like a robe. “I’ve wanted this for so long, but especially when you showed up at that bar and finally showed me your face and your arms, I just-”
You trailed off and withdrew from him, suddenly getting self conscious as you realised you were about to vomit out your fantasies to him. It seemed like a good idea when you’d started speaking and then all too quickly you realised how embarrassing it was to say what you were going to say. Though, unluckily for you he wasn’t letting you off easy.
“What do you think about my arms?” he laughed, face finally relaxing into an easy smile again.
“I think that they’re nice,” you said weakly, throat drying like the sahara.
“Oh yeah? What is it about them that’s nice?” he asked with a glint in his eye.
“I um…oh god,” you laughed, taking your turn to look away.
He laughed in turn, but instead of letting you have your moment with the invisible sitcom audience, he turned your face with his hand and stared you down with renewed purpose. Suddenly the simmering flame had been brought back to boil and you were feeling your heart begin to stutter again.
“I want to know what you like, I want to give you everything you want,” he pleaded, making your legs go shaky. “I need you to tell me all those thoughts you’ve been thinking about me so that I can make you feel good.”
You could’ve passed away and gone to heaven there and then. His voice was so soft, but there was no mistaking the urgency in it. He was tense, filled with kinetic energy that was bursting to release, you could see it in the way he just barely shook, heart thrumming in his chest, could feel it crackling in the air around you.
“I like to think about you pinning me underneath you…like you were doing before.”
“Oh yeah?” he urged, shifting so that he could assume his position. “And what else? Tell me.”
You took a raspy breath and continued staring up at him while your body lay prone.
“I want you to take control, I want you to hold me…and grab me,” you breathed, utterly possessed by the idea you could make your fantasies come true. “I want you to kiss me again, König.”
His eyes were so dark, he looked feral. His jaw twitched as he listened to you and just before his lips were colliding with yours again, you took a moment to admire the way you’d undone him. Tracking the way his gaze raked over you, you widened your eyes as his hands gripped the sheets like they were the reins to a bucking stallion. You rose from the bed and met him, tongue darting out to his once more.
König leaned over a little more, his knees dropping so that his body lowered over you, securing you in your position. You could feel barely a portion of his chest on you, but still it was like having a bear act as your weighted blanket. Though even then, his kiss was never too forceful. His lips synced with yours in a perfect harmony and his hands brushed up your arms and traced the curve of your neck in a feathery caress.
“You’re like heaven,” König hummed.
You tipped your head back and moaned in turn as he pressed a kiss to your cheek then continued to trail them from your jaw, down your neck and grabbed your shirt, tugging it aside so he could kiss your collarbone. He lit little fires with every kiss, his breath tickling your flesh and setting off a flare of goosebumps. Your breaths were coming out whiny, filling the room like restless spirits.
“König, more…take it off please…”
You were begging, voice overflowing with desperation as you clawed at the hem of his shirt again. He laughed softly, but König must have been feeling benevolent because he didn’t make you wait much longer. He pushed himself up into a kneeling position and towered over you, pulling his shirt up over his head like a parachute and abandoning it behind him.
“Is that better?” he asked innocently.
You held your breath for a moment and felt your eyes almost vibrate as you drank him in. Even though you’d been cuddled up with him for a good portion of the day, you were still in disbelief when you finally saw what he looked like underneath the shirt. You were forced to bite your lips so as not to squeal. He was the kind of man that inspired statues, from the defined pecs and abs to his soft belly, he was beautiful.
“How do you look so fucking good?” you groaned.
He snorted at that and shook his head.
“You overreact everytime you see more of me. Are you going to faint if I take my trousers off?”
“I wouldn’t rule that out,” you squeaked, not even beginning to imagine how you’d cope.
He rolled his eyes at you, not losing his smile for a second. Secretly, he was loving the attention, loving how much you fell for every inch of him. The moan that he let out when you ran your hand down his sternum spurred you on, showing you just how much he enjoyed the worship.
“You’ll have to even things out, of course,” he said breathlessly, looking at you with purpose.
You bit your lip and looked down toward your own chest for a second, before sitting upwards to meet him. Your top layers were off in seconds, a new record, abandoned to the other side of the room like rags. Before König could get a chance to take you in you were kissing him again and urging him to keep going, drawing his head back to your neck, gasping as he gently grazed you with his teeth.
His growls rang in your ears and pulsed all the way down your spine and to your legs, sending you shaking. Animalistic pants and noises were all that filled the room as you both explored each other, running your hand over bumpy scars, course hair and soft skin, kissing the thick expanse of his body when you could. Your senses were filled with him and only him, citrus and musk and muscle all combining to form a catalyst that soon had you crawling onto his lap and bucking against him for friction.
“You need this don’t you?” he said softly and slowly, dragging out each word with a groan. “Does that feel good? Does it feel good using me like that?”
Your heart beat triple time - you were barely able to respond to him. He was gripping your thighs and teasing his hand over your crotch in small intervals, delighting in the noises you made when he touched you just right. It was the best kind of agony feeling him through the thick material, had you aching to get it all off.
“Feels sooooo good,” you moaned.
You stared into his eyes, watching as he smiled and gripped the back of your neck, forcing you to keep eye contact with him
“I like it when you look at me like that. I love your beautiful doe eyes, looking at me so hungry. You look like you’re so ready for me. Do you want more?” he rumbled.
“Yes! More, please König please! I feel like m’ on fire,” you cried out, only barely coherent. “Please, I need you to fuck me.”
He laughed mournfully at that,, the kind that suggested he had bad news. The kind that said he’d love to indulge you, but not yet.
“I don’t have condoms with me,” he groaned.
“I do,” you grunted, separating from him for a moment.
You leaned back and fumbled with the bedside table, knocking your tablet down loudly just as Rocky landed a punch, and pulled out a couple of foil packets from the drawer and a bottle of lube. It was as if you’d performed a magic trick, König went from looking regretful to looking stunned then finally settled on holding a sly smile.
“Have I ever mentioned how often you surprise me?” He muttered, not hesitating in taking the paraphernalia from you.
“No, but you can tell me all about it after,” you moaned.
König bit his lip, trapping the smile that clearly wanted to break loose. He was completely entranced by you. Instead of laughing at how feral you’d grown, he set to work unbuttoning your trousers and pulling them off of you, taking everything with them until you were fully naked and on display. He tilted his head downward and blinked slowly, looking like he was in disbelief at your body.
“You’re perfect,” he sighed.
Blood rushed to your face like a tidal wave, and you broke your stare for a moment of respite. He was so intense, looking at you like a stalking wolf does a deer. Your chest felt thick with anticipation, not even in the least bit prepared for what was coming. He continued to hold you, one arm wrapped around you while the other was occupied, busy with what was to come.
You gasped as he lubed up his fingers and began to slowly and painstakingly circle them around your entrance. He played with you, barely letting his sights leave your face. He clearly got off your stilted breaths, watching as you adjusted to the cold gel, moaning as he listened to the noises you made with a blissed out smile on his face.
“You sound so pretty,” he purred. “Keep making those beautiful noises for me, yeah?”
You groaned in response, not able to give him much more.
Finally when you were prepared enough, he easily slipped a finger inside of you and stretched you out, gently plunging it back and forth before adding another. He mixed up his motions, massaging you and curling his fingers and creating a rhythm that had your ears filling with pulsing fuzz and thighs shaking like you’d been labouring for days. You cried out for him, begging him to fuck you, repeatedly telling him ‘please’ and whimpering when he just smiled at you and shook his head, eventually adding another finger.
“Please König, need to feel you…”
“These are my fingers are they not?” he said, chuckling meanly.
“Not what I meant!” you huffed, collapsing into his chest with a particularly hard thrust. “I want your cock! I want you to fuck me König!”
He snarled out a sigh and withdrew his digits, then kissed you, silencing your begging with his harsh mouth and tongue while he fiddled with his belt and buttons. After a few seconds he was parting from you again, lip dripping with spit, and rucked down his trousers and boxers in one. He pulled at them harshly and tossed them aside just like everything else.
“Tell me again,” he uttered.
You drunkenly looked him over and had to double take when you saw him playing with his cock, generously coating the huge length of it with lube, getting himself ready for you. That was what he’d been (somehow) hiding this whole time! Before you could do anything to help it, your mouth hung open and you let out the most pathetic noise you’d ever made, a low lustful whimper.
“Oh, you like that do you?” He chuckled.
“It’s so big,” you said wondrously, voice fading into nothing.
“Mhmm…you ready to take all this?” he smirked, pumping upward and opening his hand so that you could see the full hard length of it. “Don’t be shy, tell me how much you want it.”
“Oh god.”
You were so lost that you couldn’t even respond properly to his question, his soothing tones too gentle to register. It was going to be a struggle. You were going to feel every inch of it filling you up like a bed post, it was so impossibly long and thick to a degree that it filled even König’s hand. Though, still that didn’t deter you from bucking your hips against him like an animal in heat, welcoming him to ease it inside of you.
“C’mon, I want to hear you say it again,” König ordered. “Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck me,” you all but gasped.
“Fuck me?” he repeated back. “You can - ah- do better.”
He was gritting his teeth, his body straining as he tried to keep himself together. The speed of his hand was picking up its pace and you whined, feeling like you were taking on some kind of punishment. You would feel far better than his hand did, why wouldn’t he just fuck you already?
“Fuck me, König! I need you to fuck me with your big cock,” you whined.
“Oh, yes,” he growled, “I love hearing my name like that. Come here, let me take care of you.”
He wrapped his arms around you and ushered you over his lap, dragging you both to the edge of the bed so that he could set his legs on the ground. You squeaked as his hands gripped harshly at your hips and lined you up with his cock, breaking his hold for a second while he teased his tip at your entrance, gently guiding you down onto it as if it weren’t going to split you in half.
“S’already so much,” you moaned, loudly exhaling into the cavernous room. “You’re so big König.”
“Shh, it’s ok,” he soothed, bracing his forehead against yours. “You just need to take it slowly, yeah? Let me guide you.”
“It’s too much,” you cried out, wrapping your arms around him. “But it feels…s- so good.”
You dug your fingers into the soft flesh of his back and buried your head into his hard shoulder. A rush of hot tears were welling in your eyes, it felt like you were going to sob as you were fucked down further onto him. Though still, you were lightly bucking your hips back and forth, easing yourself further down and moaning in joy in how he perfectly filled you, how good the growing pressure felt, the burning tension in your thighs and in your stomach.
Your breaths sped out quick and uneven and you dug your fingers into the ridges of his back all the more, unknowingly carving tiger stripes down the length of him. You were both seething, but neither of you tried to pull away, instead you only got closer, feeling like you’d been sucked into a black hole when he finally bottomed out, your atoms spread into a breeze.
“There, doesn’t that feel good?” he asked, sighing deeply against your shoulder. “You feel so tight around me, you feel perfect.”
“Mhmm,” you whimpered.
“I need you to tell me how good it feels. C’mon,” he encouraged, gently rubbing your back. “Tell me.”
“I feel…so full. Feels so big - but - but it feels so good,” you cried out, feeling as if you had nothing left in your head.
“Oh yeah? You look so good like that, all dazed,” König murmured. “I want to savour this, remember how you look when I’m on base. I’m going to feel the ghost of you clenching around me when I’m in my room, you know that?”
You were clenching just at the thought! Humming when you heard him hissing in pleasure. His eyes were just as drunk as yours, drooping full of lust, a perfect mirror. He grinned just slightly, then gripped your hips tighter, forcing you up before bringing you back down again. You both panted and groaned, taking in the sensations zipping through your bones and burning flesh.
It started off slow at first, König gently fucked you, letting you get used to his girth. You’d barely seen dildos that compared to the size of his cock, let alone experienced anyone fucking you like that before. It had you tipping your head back and parting your lips, whimpering up into the air like a pathetic wolf howl. He groaned and growled over you, breathing quicker and quicker as he increased his pace. He slowly but surely set himself into a rhythm, setting his head on your chest and teasing one of your taught nipples with his flickering tongue.
You were wailing, gripping onto his shoulders with one hand and threading your fingers through his damp hair with the other. He got faster, pulling in and out of you and sending your heart into overdrive. A warzone could’ve broken out around you both and you’d hardly notice over the booming of your hearts, the creaking of the bed, and the lewd sound of his thrusts against your slicked up flesh. Every stroke set off a new wave of fireworks inside you, a hand would lift from your hips and stroke you between your legs, only acting as a catalyst to the growing explosion. Your belly grew tighter and tighter as an orgasm stirred to life, crackling and sparkling at the base of your stomach.
Though, just as you were hitching your breath, preparing to let go within a matter of minutes, you both were brought to a halt. Footsteps loudly crashed across the flooring outside and a hushed conversation ensued between two older sounding people, something about a strange noise they were hearing. How fucking curious.
“Geh scheißen!”
You giggled a little at König’s hissed curse and watched as his eyes took on a thunderously dark shade, looking like he was going to go out there and strangle the couple for their interruption. Rather than let him get too worked up however, you decided to take action and gently eased yourself off of him with a soft groan, soon feeling horribly empty. Once the couple seemed to retreat again you made your move, grabbing the edge of the mattress.
He frowned at you, looking evermore confused as you gestured for him to get off the bed, but he complied with your order. Soon enough it was apparent what you were doing and he assisted, dragging the mattress off of the noisy frame with a thud. The further interruption had you both pausing, listening out for the couple’s return, but they never showed. They left you alone in the ringing silence.
“C’mon, looks like it’s safe,” you grinned, lowering yourself onto all fours
“Oh it’s like that, is it?” König snorted, watching you assume your stance.
“What? You don’t like doggy?” you asked, wiggling your butt at him teasingly.
“Didn’t say that,” he corrected, picking up the lube again and reapplying it generously to his swollen cock. “I just like to look at you… you looked so pretty when you’re getting fucked. I like seeing you cock drunk and broken against me.”
You twitched as he told you that, pursing your lips in a ridiculous show of chaste embarrassment. You both knew you weren’t that innocent, but hearing him say filthy things like that had you dissolving under his gaze like powdered sugar in hot water.
“Unfortunately you’ll have to be a little quieter now,” he sighed, finally coming down to kneel behind you. “I’ll miss those moans of yours.”
He sounded almost comically wistful.
“My moans-” you began, outraged at the idea that it was you alone contributing to the racket.
“Your moans and whimpers, yes. It’s - ugh - a wonder you ever…got called Sneaky,” he chuckled, cutting you off as he eased back into you. “You’re so loud and responsive for me. Can’t wait to hear you cum.”
You both groaned when he’d plunged his cock back down to the base - you from the sensation and the dirty things he’d said to you. Though, before you could make a rebuttal, or moan any louder, he curled himself over you, melding his stomach to your back while wrapping one of his big arms around, covering your mouth tightly with his hand. He had you secured against him, stuffing you full of him and trapping you with nowhere to go. Not that you’d want to be anywhere else.
“You like this, hm?”
“Mhmm,” you hummed, not able to get anything else out past his hand.
“Good. Because even if someone beats down that door and watches, I won’t stop fucking you until we’re both spent,” he warned.
You clenched hard around him and heard his breath of laughter as he felt the shockwaves of it.
“You’re so dirty!” he purred, beginning to slowly thrust again. “I love it.”
He didn’t take as long to work up to his punishing pace this time. You whined muffled moans behind his hand, but very little noise sounded around the room beyond the gentle squeaking of the mattress springs and König’s whispered growls that tickled by the back of your neck. He sent your body wild with the things he said. Every word felt as if it zipped straight from your ears and down between your legs, your whole body electrified with the pulsing thrill.
You feel so good around me, fuck, so tight!
Your body was made for me. You’re so perfect.
You’re mine.
You’re only mine, no one else can have you now. You’re mine!
You panted hard around him, could feel your breath ricocheting off of his fingers. The room felt like it was caving in around you, stars sparkling around your vision until you closed your eyes, embracing the fizzing sensation that grew from the back of your skull until it filled your head. The tight coil inside you was waiting to burst, you were ready to let go, could feel yourself crumbling over the edge.
After a few more hard thrusts König could feel you going, he could hear the desperate whining that escaped from his hand and groaned. He fucked you with purpose, lengthening his thrusts and plowing into you harder, catching your sweet spot and getting you closer and closer.
“Let me feel you cum...I need it. Cum for me, Come on, cum for me,” he commanded.
Somewhere down the line you obeyed and let go, seeing a white hot screen seer your vision behind your closed eyelids, and feeling the warmth wash through you in an explosion. You moaned out loudly even despite your haphazard gag and sighed as the fire drowned down to a tingling ache that was allowed to settle only after you felt König chase his own release, sloppily thrusting until he ground to a halt, growling out a strangled moan.
Both of you collapsed shortly after that, rolling onto your backs like two animals that had brought each other to mutual destruction. Pants filled the air, the smell of sex and citrus intermingling, breath spilling out uncontrollably while you both fought to regulate your bodies, taking in the sensations that still tingled around your centres as aftershocks.
You sighed and turned to König smiling when you caught his blissed out expression, you’d never seen him so relaxed before. His hair was messily splayed out all over his head, practically glued to one side as it had likely stuck together from your clawing fingers. Then when you cast your gaze downward, you could see that veins had popped up all over his arms, his whole body puffed up while his skin burned hot with effort. He was aglow with bliss and seemed so cherubic lying there all splayed out and relaxed.
“So that was pretty good,” you whispered, disturbing his rest when you came to cuddle at his side.
He mumbled something in German and wrapped his arm back around you, tucking his head in against yours. A breath of laughter rushed past your lips.
“Is it your turn to forget English now?” you teased.
He paused for a moment, groaning tiredly.
“I said that I thought it was more than pretty good,” he said after a moment, curling into your side.
“You’re right,” you grinned. “Best I’ve ever had.”
You could feel his lips twitching into a grin at that. König’s whole body resonated with the compliment, you could feel him getting puffed up with the praise. It took him a while to return the favour and tell you he thought the same, but he cottoned on eventually. It had you both chuckling, though soon you both came to a rest, relaxing in each other's arms and napping a little until König started to shift after a bit, drowsily making his way into a standing position.
You gasped when you opened your eyes.
“What?” he asked, turning to look at you.
“Your back,” you whispered, drawing your hands over your mouth.
König raised his brows in question and wandered over to the mirror, taking heavy clumsy steps over to it. He turned and viewed the damage, shoulder blades rolling as he inspected the thick scratches that had snaked their way down his body like he’d been attacked. He caught your eyes in the mirror and grinned, looking thoroughly pleased with himself in a way you’d never seen before.
“Thought you’d mark me up and claim me as your own did you?”
Next part here
#König#König x reader#konig x reader#konig#könig fanfiction#modern warfare 2#modern warfare fanfiction#mw2#a rocky start
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A Balancing Act | Ch. 2*
Series Summary: Harry is a famous, rich, handsome, pop star and he’s been in therapy since his boy band days. When he meets Y/n, a beautiful and successful artist, he cannot take no for an answer when it comes to her. He’s determined to make her his even if he has to bend the rules a little at first.
Chapter Summary: Y/n learns that Harry kissed another woman and decides to move on. Harry crashes Y/n's date to get her to change her mind. But then he makes a shocking discovery.
Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut (oral sex sort of), angst
Word Count: 9,739
Commissioned by @cinnamonone (thank you!! xoxo)
A Balancing Act Masterlist
Returning to LA after his tour in Latin America, Harry was sitting with Pat in his lovely house. Matcha tea was served and she started off by asking him how he was feeling emotionally lately. She tended to want to start off their sessions by letting him talk about his emotions and how he was dealing with his busy life, reserving the topic of relationships and love until toward the end. It gave her a good gauge of his overall well-being.
“I miss home. It’s always the hardest when I feel like I’m missing out on so much. Feels like I’m ignoring what’s really important in life and focusing too much on myself. Feels selfish. I know that no one thinks that. My mum is always telling me to not worry but it’s just hard. Especially because I’m closing in on 30 and just feels like I’ve just been playing around for all my life.”
“But this is your work. And you do work hard. You’re just lucky that you’re talented enough that you can delve into this kind of creativity and make a living from it. You’re putting more responsibility on yourself than is necessary. You’re on your own path, Harry. And while from the outside everything looks fun and glamorous, even you know the truth because you live it. It’s hard. So don’t discount yourself by feeling like you’re not doing enough. Your mom is okay. She can take care of herself. Gemma is okay too. She’s doing well. Your friends and all the people that matter in your life support you. Comparing yourself to the 9-5 worker isn’t going to do you any good. You’re a successful artist. An entrepreneur. Just imagine if you weren’t. You’d be in Manchester or London and working some mundane job. Sure you’d be around your family but you wouldn’t be thriving like you are now. I think you’d be miserable and if you’re miserable your family will feel that.”
Harry nodded, “Probably. I guess I can’t imagine myself doing anything else.”
“I can’t either. But it’s more about how you’re dealing with that guilt. I think as you’re getting older your priorities are shifting a little. And that’s okay. It’s good to welcome new awareness. Just be sure to not dwell on it because no one else is.”
Harry sniffed a laugh and smiled. Pat was right of course. He knew all of this. They’d been talking about his guilt a lot more recently and he recognized it was more because there were particular milestones that society set for people. And Harry had met many milestones but the basic ones like love, family, stability, children were all things he’d had yet to really achieve. Of course, he had a family but not his own, with a spouse and kids and a little house in town… but that wasn’t his to have yet. And the little house in town might wind up looking more like a bunch of houses in different parts of the world. He couldn’t deny he was lucky but he also couldn’t ignore that he felt like he’d been shirking his adult responsibilities.
“Okay. I can tell you need to say something. Want to move on from this subject?”
Harry grinned and repositioned himself to face more squarely toward Pat, “I met someone.”
“Oh? What does that mean?”
“I met her in Chicago. She was staying at the hotel I was in but she was there for an art show, she’s this really talented artist. But anyway… we just hit it off. We’ve been talking on the phone almost every night. I really like her.”
Pat nodded and placed her mug down, “That’s great. So, she stayed at the hotel you were in but how did you come to actually meet her?”
Harry described the scene at the bar and then how he invited her to his show the following evening, “I just… I don’t know. She’s not famous or anything but she acted like I was just a normal guy. And we really connected mentally and physically. She really seems to like all the things I like.”
“You mean, in bed? Or have you really gotten to know her on a deeper level?” She smirked and tilted her head. Harry was like this. He could connect with all kinds of people and it made his heart swell and lurch and then as fast as it filled up it all deflated just as quickly.
“Well, not just in bed. But yeah. We just clicked.”
“Look, I think that’s great. Just remember, you are okay as a single man too. Correct? You don’t need to be loved all the time. You are enough. You don’t have to fall in love and get married and have children to be a whole person. Society says you need that but you get to choose your path. But if you really like, this, uh… what’s her name?”
“Y/n. Even her name is pretty.”
“Y/n. Well, if you like her enough just take your time. Get to know her. Long distance is hard and phone calls are good but no substitute for face-to-face time. Do you think she’s as serious about this as you are?”
Harry shrugged and pursed his lips to the side, “I think so. I mean… we’ve talked about a lot and she’s told me so many things about herself. I guess I haven’t asked her to make it official, though.”
“Probably wise to wait to make it official. Jumping into a serious relationship could backfire as you well know. And there is the matter that you’re on the road so often. Did you see anyone else while you were away?”
Harry shook his head, “No. I actually really like Y/n. Didn’t want to do anything to fuck that up.”
Pat sighed, “You do realize you were supposedly spotted leaving a party with a woman people claimed you were kissing. Right? Just a couple of weeks ago. Which would have been after your Chicago shows.”
Harry groaned and nodded. He did know. His PR team told him about the supposed fan sighting and there was even a photo of him with a woman. Who he did kiss, but it wasn’t a kiss that meant anything. It was just a bit of fun and Harry had had a good amount of tequila. He honestly was just flirting and wanted to kiss the woman. But of course, when she wanted to take things further he declined because Y/n had been on his mind.
That was one thing about Harry. He was flirty and he’d kiss people he never intended on sleeping with. He kissed men and women and flirted all the time but usually, it was more friendly than sexual. Sometimes people got the wrong idea but that was just how Harry was. He loved getting close to people and touching. Loved hugs and kisses especially if he knew the person.
Even when he was with his last ex she’d gotten used to him kissing others and holding hands with someone else. But it wasn’t always very well received. Like the time she left one of the parties they were at early because she was tired and then he was filmed making out with a friend on a couch in front of people. He had a lot of explaining to do for that one. She forgave him but it hurt her. She cried. Harry felt bad that he’d done it. He loved how it felt to kiss someone and have them kiss him back, the zip of excitement and the tiniest bit of tension.
“Yes. I’m aware. I don’t know that she’s heard anything just yet. I think the photo only got published like yesterday or day before.”
“Well, it’s probably a good idea to talk to her about it before she sees the photo and reads the salacious headlines. That is if you’re interested in still seeing her.”
He nodded and looked down at his lap.
“Now, let’s talk about how you’re doing with all your new endeavors coming up. The timelines and the travel that will entail.”
. . .
Y/n was usually late with getting news or updates on celebrities. She spent a lot of her time painting during the day so unless she took a break and used her free time to peruse social media sites she might not realize things like the fact that the man she was beginning to develop feelings for had kissed another woman while he was away in another country.
Just as on this day. She was blissfully unaware of what he’d done as of yet. That is until Kat, her best friend, called in the middle of her glazing a painting she’d just completed.
She hadn’t told anyone about Harry except for Kat. Kat would keep her mouth shut about everything. Y/n knew she could trust her friend with her new secret. Not that Harry told her to not tell anyone but he did mention it would be better if very few people knew.
“Hello?” She spoke into the receiver as she capped the glaze and wiped her hands on her bibs.
“Hey babe. Did you see the link I sent you?”
“Uh… no. I’ve been working on a piece all morning.”
“Put me on speaker. Take a look.”
Y/n clicked the sound to the speaker and opened up her texts to see the link from Kat.
The moment the Daily Mail website came up with a blurry, dark photo of Harry standing very close to a woman she felt her heart drop.
Reading the caption of the article:
STYLES SPOTTED KISSING MYSTERY WOMAN IN COLOMBIA
“Are you seeing it?” Kat asked.
“Yeah. I am.”
The article mentioned him leaving with the woman after a party and Y/n put the phone back to her ear, not wanting to read more in that moment, “Thank you, Kat. I’m glad you showed me.”
“Of course. I mean… it’s Daily Mail so it might not be anything, but I just wanted you to have that info just in case. You know?”
Y/n nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat, “Yeah. I know. I’m gonna go, though. I need to finish my canvas. But I’ll call you later, okay?”
Letting out a shaky breath she sat down so she could read the whole article, line by line. Obsess over the information and then google to find more websites and gossip pages, supposed first-hand accounts, unnamed sources talking about how he’s been seeing her for a while and he’s excited, other blurry photos of him at the party drinking…
She shook her head and stood up, locking her phone and putting it down on the table near the bottle of glaze. She looked over her canvas and figured she could take a break. It would be good for her to get out and take a walk. Clear her mind and figure out what she wanted to do.
Her walk resulted in her only dwelling on everything. He hadn’t called her in a couple of days but she knew he was traveling back to LA. She felt like he’d probably needed the rest from all the shows, the jetlag, time zone changes… but perhaps it was because he was seeing someone else now.
And that was certainly possible. They didn’t know one another all that well. She hadn’t even told him the whole story about her husband yet. About what had happened to him. And there had been no commitment made. They had sex in his hotel room. A few times. And it was really good. She felt they had a unique connection. Her feelings for him grew a little more quickly than was wise probably and the Facetime calls with all the revelations of things from their past and what they wanted in the future felt like she was talking to someone whom she could see herself with. He’d also given her his personal cellphone number which she knew was sort of a big deal.
But of course, that was ridiculous. This was Harry Styles and even if he did like her (which she was sure he liked her on some level) that didn’t mean they’d end up together. He could choose anyone. It certainly wouldn’t be her.
Later that night as she snacked on dill pickles and popcorn she fell into the hole of the search engine on her laptop.
The night Harry was supposedly seen with the woman was a night he hadn’t called her (she checked her call log). He didn’t call her every night, but it was still noted. Then she found another “source” saying Harry was happier than he’d ever been and that the Colombian woman was spotted in LA with him.
He hadn’t called her again that night either. Closing her laptop she figured it was over. She wouldn’t be calling him to find out what was going on. He didn’t owe her anything and it would look weird and stalkery to be asking him about the other woman. As if she had any claim on him.
Opening up her DMs on Instagram she decided to check back in on Dante. He’d messaged her all that time ago and she’d left him on read once Harry came into the picture. Maybe it was time to find someone closer to being in her own league.
. . .
Harry had a little time off and he caught up on much-needed sleep and getting back into a normal routine. He’d planned on calling Y/n that night. He’d been back in LA for a few days and felt like he was back in the right time zone finally. But he wondered why he hadn’t heard from her at all either. Normally she’d send off a little text during the day. A meme or something that would make him laugh. But it was silence from her for almost five whole days. Not that he’d reached out either but still…
He wondered what she was doing. It was a Saturday night and when he realized she was two hours ahead of him he figured he might as well give her a ring to see how she was. It was nearly 9pm her time already.
But the call went to voicemail so he left a message, a smile on his face, “Hey you… haven’t heard from you in a few days figured I’d give you a call to see what’s happening. I’ve been back in LA for a bit and I’m all caught up on rest. Give me a call back when you’ve time!”
She didn’t return his call that evening.
The following day Harry checked his messages and texts but he’d still gotten nothing from her and it was already midday (yes, he’d slept in quite late since he was up late writing a new song he couldn’t get out of his head). It was odd.
Shooting off a text message to her he suddenly had a feeling that perhaps she was avoiding him. Perhaps she’d seen the articles about him with someone else. He hoped that wouldn’t deter her from wanting to see him again. Hoped that she’d at least let him explain.
He needed to do something about it if that was the case. He couldn’t let her slip away without even having had the chance to see where it could go.
. . .
She heard the voicemail. In fact, she saw her phone light up with a notification that he was calling her in real time.
But she’d just messaged Dante and they had plans to meet up the following weekend. She’d been lucky that he hadn’t already come to town for the art exhibit. She thought she’d missed her chance when she messaged Dante back and apologized for not responding sooner. But he was polite as ever and they made plans to see one another.
So she was going to move on from Harry. There was unlikely anything good to come of it anyway. She had an amazing night with him and a handful of orgasms she could reminisce on but he was a world-famous pop star and he was single and surely he wanted to play the field for as long as he could. She understood it, but that didn’t make the situation feel any better. Therefore, the only way to get over him and to move on was to stop contact with him and get back out there.
Plus, now that she’d been with a man after her husband she felt like it was time to start dating again. It had been fun with Harry and she could have fun with others too. Maybe she’d sleep around a bit. See what that was like. Sow her wild oats. She’d gotten married so young and had little experience before him… Yeah, it was time to get out and date.
The following day she saw a text from Harry after leaving a meeting with someone who knew an art dealer.
Was just thinking of you. Missed hearing your voice. I’m back in LA now. Call me or text back.
She sat in her car and locked her phone, putting her head behind her on the headrest. What was he doing? She was kind of confused that he’d called her, left a voicemail, and then today had texted her. She really was trying to just move on. Figured he had too. But she was too curious not to call him. However, she’d keep him waiting until she was at home with a bottle of wine before she reached out. Maybe she’d hear him out. Maybe he wouldn’t bring up the other woman. She wouldn’t be bringing it up unless he did, but he had to know she’d heard about it. Right?
So, she took the long way to her house, stopping to pick up a bottle of wine and Chinese food before getting home.
She drew her curtains and took her clothes off, only wearing her panties and a tank top, and put her hair up in a messy bun on her head (like the real-deal messy buns, not those cute going-out-messy-on-purpose messy buns). Pouring herself a glass of wine and taking a big gulp she looked down at her cell phone as she sat on her couch and re-read his text.
For some reason she was nervous. She wasn’t sure how this conversation would play out but she wanted to find out what the result would be. This could possibly (most definitely) be the end for them. And she’d be okay with that if it were. Bummed, but fine. She still had her date with Dante to look forward to.
She dialed the number and put him on speaker as she leaned back into her couch and covered her face. She didn’t know if he’d pick up or not but she wanted to get this conversation out of the way.
“Hello!” Harry’s voice came over the speaker quickly. He sounded keyed up.
“Hi. It’s Y/n. You called and texted so I wanted to return your call.”
“Oh yeah… well, it’s been a few days. Was wondering how you were. So, yeah… How’ve you been?”
“I’m good. And you?”
Harry paused and noted the way she answered him in a clipped tone, cold. Not her normal friendly disposition.
“I’m well. Is… is everything all right?”
“Sure. Just doing my thing. Is everything all right with you?”
Harry sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, “Yeah. Um… did you read something about me? Is that why you’re upset?”
Y/n laughed and took a sip of her wine. Here we go, she thought to herself.
“Do I sound upset to you, Harry?”
“You actually do. Yes. Look, if you’re pissed about the articles from when I was in Colombia, I just want you to know that all of that is blown out of proportion. Right? So-“
“Oh. Interesting So you’re saying you didn’t make out with a Colombian woman at a party in Bogota?” God, she hated to sound so jealous but he did bring it up first. She cringed as she let her hurt feelings surface, but it was too late to keep her cool like she intended.
Harry sighed loudly, “I just mean that’s all blown out of propor-“
“Yes, you said that. I’m asking if what is being said is true or not.”
“It didn’t mean anything, Y/n. I am a bit of a flirt and I kissed a woman but that was it! I swear. I thought of you the whole time-“
“It’s fine, Harry. You don’t owe me anything. Besides, I’m going on a date next weekend anyway. We’re free to see other people, right? And-“
“A date? Next weekend?”
She laughed, “Yes. A date. Next weekend. It’s not like you and I will get to see one another much anyway. If at all. So there’s no reason to drag this out. We had fun but it’s clearly not something we need to bother ourselves with.”
“Bother… what? I thought we really connected, Y/n. I’m confused. I really like you.”
“But how can you say that when you made out with someone else? I really like you too Harry but you’re seeing other people because you know as well as I do that this, whatever it is between us, was never serious. Right?”
“No. No that’s not true. And I didn’t make out with her! It was like a quick party kiss sort of thing. Damnit! I swear, Y/n. I’m sorry. I had a little too much tequila and I kissed her but I really was thinking about you and she wanted me to come with her to her room but I told her I was seeing someone and that was it! God, I fucked this up didn’t I?”
Y/n sat for a moment. She had to admit she was surprised by all of this. Surprised that he’d contacted her after she didn’t respond the first time, that he seemed upset about possibly having offended her or hurting her, and that he was acting like he really did like her. But she determined that it was best if they parted ways. She realized it would simply be too hard for this to work. And based on the way his fans obsessed over the Colombian woman and were already talking shit about her (when they didn’t even know who it was) she knew she was right. She had to put an end to it before she got her heart broken.
“There was never anything to fuck up, Harry. But, look… let’s be honest here okay? I’m just a regular gal. I’m not your type, not the type that would be able to deal with your fame and all your adoring fans. I had a lot of fun with you and I think you are absolutely amazing. I really do like you but I just can’t see this working. You know?”
Harry shook his head and tried to stay calm. He had to think. He had to make this work. And he needed to not freak out about the fact that she was going on a date. He hated to think of her with anyone else. And yes, he did kiss a woman, but it wasn’t the same thing! Not to him anyway.
“I think you’re wrong. I think it can work. Let me prove it to you. I’ll come see you. Cancel your date next weekend and let me take you out instead.”
Y/n blinked her eyes, taken aback. She was truly shocked that he wanted to see her again and that he wanted to make it work but still…
“Harry…” she sighed, “you can’t expect me to cancel my date. That’s really not fair to me.”
He knew she was right, “Okay. Sorry. I guess I’m overstepping. I just thought we really connected. I was looking forward to seeing you again.”
Pulling her lips into her mouth she sat her glass of wine down. She was looking forward to seeing him again too, until she learned about the kiss. Even if they weren’t serious and even if the kiss meant nothing to him it meant something to her, “Please don’t make this hard. I really did like you, Harry. But it’s obviously not going to work. And that’s okay.”
“No. It’s not okay. I’m coming to see you. You don’t have to cancel your date. I’m not going to boss you around, but I’ll be flying to Chicago on Friday morning. I’m going to prove to you that we have something good here, Y/n. And if you still don’t see that after next weekend then I’ll back off.”
She couldn’t lie and say that she wasn’t beside herself with the idea that he wanted to put in so much effort to see her. And she certainly couldn’t stop him from going to Chicago and she wouldn’t. But she did feel like it was unlikely he’d actually show up.
“I mean… Jesus, Harry.” She shook her head and grinned, her heart pounding, “You’re crazy. I don’t understand why you want to do this. We had a night together-“
“It was more than just a night. Y/n, come on… you know as well as I do that it was more than just that. All the things we talked about on the phone all those nights. Did that mean nothing? I shared so many personal things with you and I know so many things about you too. But I want to know everything. All of you. I might be crazy but I can’t just give up.”
“We’ll see. And I can’t stop you from flying out here but I’m not going to make you any promises either.”
Harry was determined. More than ever. He knew it was special with Y/n. He knew she knew it too. The night he had her in his hotel room was maybe the hottest sex he’d ever had. And of course, hot sex doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re soul mates but the way they connected and were vulnerable with one another was not like anything he’d ever had. Then all their subsequent conversations and things they’d revealed about themselves? No. He wasn’t done and she wasn’t either. He felt it deep down that she wanted him to prove to her that he was serious.
Kissing that woman had been a mistake. And now he was going to prove to her that he was serious. That they could work.
. . .
She didn’t know why she told him where she was going to be on her date. She didn’t need to tell him. He could wait to see her until after. She told him as much at first when he called her the moment he landed.
“Where will you be with your date?” He spoke saying the word date like a dirty word.
“Harry… why do you need that information?”
“Because I’m just curious. Maybe I’m looking for restaurant suggestions.”
“I’m sure,” she rolled her eyes to herself, “If I tell you, you better not show up and ruin everything. I kind of like this guy, Harry.”
Harry’s heart fell into his stomach and the smirk on his face faded at that. She liked the guy? She was supposed to only like him.
“I won’t ruin anything. I promise.” He couldn’t actually make that promise. He wouldn’t be held accountable for the methods he used to convince her she was his. That she wanted to be with him only.
. . .
The steak house was a typical small-town restaurant that looked cutesy and had a few things on the outside of the building to let you know it was a restaurant but still came off as more of something that looked like a house.
The inside wasn’t much different. The entry into the restaurant started at the bar. Round high-top tables and tall stools scattered along the middle with dining tables with chairs of normal height lined the wall to the right. The bar with various bottles of neatly arranged, half-empty bottles of liquor along the left. Old wood floors, crown molding, high ceilings, an old dusty scent mixed with the smell of stale spilled beer (that smell just doesn’t come out after years of clumsy customers insisting on spilling their ales every night for the past 35 years), food cooking, and meat searing. Beyond the bar was the main dining room with more tables placed around the space and large windows that looked out onto a sizeable terrace with more tables under a large awning.
Harry let his gaze move around the room and walking past the bar he peeked into the main dining room to see if he could spot the woman of his dreams.
“Harry Styles!” A young lady shrieked and as he turned back he saw two other women walking toward him. He knew the look. They were starstruck and hoping for a chance to speak to him and get a photo.
Reluctantly he obliged. Signed a napkin, took a few pictures, and shook their hands with a smile on his face. It tended to be better to just be nice and give them something quickly instead of declining. Sometimes declining or saying he couldn’t resulted in more issues than it was worth.
Not spotting Y/n anywhere either inside or outside he asked the young man stood at the front if there was a reservation under Y/n’s name. He expected that her date would have put it under his name but on the off chance-
“Yes sir. Uh, that reservation for 2 people isn’t for another fifteen minutes. Are you the other party on the reservation?”
Harry grinned and nodded, “Why yes. I am.”
He followed behind the kid to a spot outside on the terrace and ordered a bottle of red wine. He knew he wouldn’t be able to drink the whole thing but figured that once Y/n arrived with her date they could finish it off. He knew that what he was doing was taking it a little too far (maybe a lot too far) but he wanted to properly greet her and get a good look at this date. He’d get up and let them take their seats and then he’d pay the bill of course as an apology for the inconvenience.
Before he’d finished his glass of wine his sight landed on the entry to the terrace where Y/n, a tall man with dark hair (presumably her date), and the young host who seated Harry were walking toward him. There she was. She’d really dressed up too. The low plunge of her dress and the way it hit her hips were mouthwatering. He stood up quickly as he continued to watch her in awe. Her pretty face was set in an unamused frown, “What are you doing Harry?”
Shrugging his shoulders he looked to the guy next to her. He was Harry’s height. Taller even. Annoyingly good-looking in an older, sophisticated yet unbothered kind of way, “I’m Harry,” he jutted his hand out to shake.
The date looked at Y/n and then back to Harry with his hand taking Harry’s in a firm shake, “Yeah, I know who you are. Harry Styles… But why are you sitting at our table?” He asked with a laugh. So she hadn’t told her date about him. Pity.
“Oh, I was just having a sit, drinking a little wine. But I’ll be on my way. Just wanted to make sure my lovely friend here made it safely. Oh! And please! Enjoy the rest of the wine. And I’ve already told them that the tab is on me. So get whatever you like. Go wild.”
The look of anger on Y/n’s face should have deterred Harry from speaking further, but he couldn’t help himself, “And you look… wow. Incredible. You’re stunning, Y/n,” he looked over her frame and then back to her face, “I’ll call you later,” he winked as he turned and sauntered away just as casually as he had mentioned he was paying their bill. As if it were all just a normal occurrence.
Y/n watched the handsome pop star walk away before turning to Dante, “Sorry about that. He was just trying to be funny. Just a friend,” she reassured.
Though, Dante didn’t seem wary of him at all. He was clueless as to what had just happened, “You know Harry Styles?!”
Sitting down and pushing Harry’s nearly empty glass of cabernet to the edge of the table she nodded, “Yeah. Met him a couple of months ago when he was in Chicago for a concert, and I was there for an art show. Just luck.”
She left out the part where he had her in his posh hotel suite one evening and they spent the whole night fucking and talking and laughing. Connecting. And then again in the morning until she had to leave.
Y/n wasn’t sure how to feel about Harry’s little stunt. He seemed like such a genuinely sweet guy that what had just happened felt a little out of character. Though she got some glimpses of his pushy, dominant side in bed, she hadn’t seen any of that persona transfer outside of the bedroom. Not when he first introduced himself, and not in any of their conversations on the phone… But she guessed perhaps there was a part of him that would come out in this way. And she couldn’t lie and say she didn’t enjoy it all deep down.
But still. The nerve of him to sit at the table she and her date would be sharing and drink wine while he waited for them. To look at her the way he had, his eyes blatantly following her shape down to her hips and back up again with that grin… The compliment. And then to have their bill paid for? It was a power move. He was trying to assert dominance over Dante in some way. Even though Dante was annoyingly clueless somehow. She thought for sure he’d be livid about it but he wasn’t.
Dante was a little too nice she decided.
And it’s not like Y/n thought her date should be upset. She didn’t want two men fighting over her or anything. But the part of her that kind of liked what Harry had done, liked that he was trying to stake a claim or send a message- wanted to see what Dante had in him. Wanted maybe just a tiny bit to see him jealous or even insist on paying despite the fact that Harry said he would. Dante didn’t seem threatened at all. She shook her head of those thoughts. How silly for Y/n to even think that he should feel that way. Of course not!
And she couldn’t stop thinking about how good he looked in his suit and his thick dark hair with soft curls as she and her date neared the table he was casually sitting at. The handsome smug look on his face as he watched them. And she tried to refocus and listen as Dante was talking about his recent gallery show but she was now stuck thinking about the night she and the famous man shared together. That was probably part of what he intended as well, showing up like he did. To set the tone for the entire date. He knew what he was doing. And it had worked.
“Excuse me. I need to run to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
She took a deep breath as she walked into the restaurant and followed the hanging wooden signs that pointed toward the little hallway where the two bathrooms were. A single toilet room each for women and men.
Flicking the light on and clicking the lock she leaned into the door and closed her eyes. She had to give herself a pep talk.
“You’re here with a perfectly nice and handsome man. Same interests, a level head, funny, humble…” and Dante was all those things. But something was missing. Something was holding her back from truly enjoying his company. And she knew just what it was. It was because he wasn’t Harry. And even if Harry hadn’t made his surprise appearance to discombobulate her completely, interrupting her date, she would have still felt the same.
Just as she pushed herself off the door there was a knock, “Sorry! Be right out!”
Y/n washed her hands and dried them before opening the door. But in a shocking split-second, she was met with the handsome smile of the man she couldn’t stop thinking about as he walked into the bathroom, causing her to step herself backward. Harry closed the door and clicked the lock.
“Harry! What are you doing?!”
Harry smirked and leaned his back into the door, “How’s the date going?”
Crossing her arms over her chest she tried to feign annoyance but she was working hard to hide her own grin, “It’s fine. I like Dante. Why are you still here?”
“I figured I’d see if you were free after. I brought some things with me that I think you might enjoy.”
She paused. He brought some things? What did that mean?
“I can’t believe I told you where my date was,” she shook her head and sighed.
“I’m sure you did it because you hoped for this very outcome.”
“Oh come on, Harry. I actually didn’t think you’d even come here this weekend, to be honest.”
Harry stitched his brows together and pushed himself off the door, taking two long-legged strides toward her, and brought his hands up to her face, “Well I am here. And I want you, Y/n. I don’t care that you’re on a fucking date. That should be me sitting out there getting to take you out,” he jabbed a finger in the air toward the door before returning his palm to her cheek.
Her blood pumped quickly through her veins and her head felt fluttery and light as she watched his mouth and then looked at his eyes as he spoke. His hair was fluffy and soft and his hands on her face felt gentle but she knew what they could do. All the very opposite things of gentle that had awakened some kind of indulgent new requirement. She wanted to put up a good fight. Make him work harder. Make him beg a little even. He’d kissed another woman! For god’s sake, she should make him grovel. But he was there. With her. Looking at her like he did that last morning they were together when they were making plans to keep contact until they could see one another again.
She didn’t know how to respond. If she were responding candidly, she’d tell him that yeah, it should be him out there treating her to dinner and not Dante. That she hadn’t been able to get him off her mind and last night, even though she had this date lined up, it was Harry’s image that she orgasmed to when she masturbated. In fact, it had only been Harry she got off to since she’d had that night with him nearly two months ago.
Harry tilted his head and spoke softly, “Please, Y/n. Do you want me to get on my knees? Beg? Or,” a small devious smirk quirked up on his lips as he licked them and ducked in to speak into her ear, his body pressed into hers, “maybe you want this. You like the chase, don’t you? Is that what you want? Trying to play hardball with me, sweet girl?”
She was a goner the moment his lips brushed over the shell of her ear and he brought his hands down from her face to her hips and pulled her in close. A small warm peck to her lobe, “What is it that you want me to do? I’ll do it.”
Y/n drew her hands up his back to his broad shoulders and moaned as she stretched her neck for him, “You shouldn’t be here. I’m in the middle of a date.”
And despite her words, Harry seemed to figure out what it was she needed and he dragged his mouth down to her jaw and then attached his lips to her neck and lightly peppered kisses and warm licks down the sensitive skin until he lowered enough that he’d made it to her clavicle, drawing a needy little gasp from her lips.
He backed away to look down at her and she had her lips parted and eyes closed, which made him smile.
She was his.
“And this dress,” he smoothed his hands down from her hips to the bottom hem of the material that landed just above her knee. He pulled the fabric upward, his warm fingers sliding up and under the stretchy cloth until he met her inner thighs, squeezed together, “Why did you do this? Wearing this for him? Baby this dress should only be for me.”
Her breaths deepened and her body grew hot with his hands on her. This was such a bad idea but she didn’t have it in her to stop him. She wanted him. When she opened her eyes and looked at Harry she licked her lips before speaking, “I hoped you’d see it. But I didn’t really think you’d come.”
Harry’s palms splayed against her thighs and continued to push the material up as he smiled at her with a cocky grin, “Wanted me to see it. So you wanted me to be jealous. To see you wearing this slutty thing on a date with another man while I watched. Suppose I deserve that. But you know you’re leaving here with me. Yeah? That’s what you wanted. Gonna show you what you deserve for teasing like this.”
Y/n let out a small whimper when he pushed her legs apart and kept his eyes on hers. His light green eyes were slowly disappearing under his dark pupils. His lids were droopy, and his lips parted as he finally moved his face to hers and nudged at her nose with his before putting her out of her misery and kissing her in a hot, desperate embrace.
She tried to resist but she’d already been a goner and the way he kissed her melted her senses and stamped out her resolve.
She was his.
Harry’s hands continued their path upward and she knew what he was doing, as far gone and mushy as her brain was, she understood his intentions. So she parted her thighs more for his access and Harry panted against her lips, “You want me to touch? Need a little something before you go back out there on your date?”
She nodded after faltering for a second. Her date… She wasn’t sure she could face him after this. She only knew she wanted Harry.
He pushed his fingers over her silky panties and grinned as he continued kissing her, her back pressed into the wall, “Fuck, baby girl. You need Daddy don’t you?”
She groaned and popped her eyes open, nodding the tiniest bit as she watched him use his hand on her, rubbing over her cloth-covered clit. Harry hissed and looked at her with sultry eyes, “Soaked for me, baby. You don’t want to go back out there to him. You need to be taken care of. Can you wait til we get back to your place or do you need it now?”
Harry was serious. He was going to leave with Y/n. Dante would be fine. His check was covered after all.
Y/n let out a shaky breath. Here or at hers? Her place was half an hour away and she was already vibrating with desire. Harry’s words and soft touches and his presence somehow pulled from her a need that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. One that she was certain Dante couldn’t affect.
“This is crazy,” she breathed out.
Harry pushed his mouth to hers and moved his fingers down to the drenched crotch of her panties pushing them to the side and he keened at the feel of how slick she was under the pads of his fingers.
“Remember how good it was, Y/n? How you moaned and came over and over again? The way you took me when I fucked you.”
Harry was hard as rock in his trousers. This woman was doing things to him. He hadn’t been so determined about anyone in a very long time.
“Yes,” she whispered when he stroked up and down through her labia and then pressed into the hood of her clit.
“And how good we are together. We work, Y/n. This works. I know you know it.”
He plunged two fingers inside as he kissed her mouth. She opened her legs further for him and rocked her hips forward into his hand.
Y/n realized suddenly where they were and what they were doing when a knock sounded on the door, “Let’s go. I need to tell Dante that I’m leaving first.”
Harry was directed to stay outside at the front of the restaurant while Y/n went to the terrace and broke the news to Dante. She felt awful. She really did. Dante was nice. He was attractive. But he wasn’t her type in the end and she was slick between her thighs as she sat down and winced at the feel. The empty ache. She was flushed and her panties were chilled against her skin where it was wet, a result of just having been fingered in the bathroom. But her body was guiding her. She was aching and wanted Harry in her bedroom. Wanted Harry inside of her again.
It was probably a mistake. She’d probably regret this but she only knew one thing. And that was that Dante would never have a chance. Not when she was fantasizing about Harry on a date with him. That wasn’t fair to him, to string him along. So she justified that it was better this way.
. . .
Y/n had fully expected that Harry would have a driver or something. But to her surprise, he rented a car. A really nice car. A Mercedes Benz wagon.
She did kind of wish he had a driver, though, so they could sit in the back and that there was one of those partitions that separated them from view. But as it was, she was sitting in the passenger side as Harry drove her to her house.
It was kind of wild to her that Harry Styles was driving her to her house and that once there, in her small residential bungalow, they’d probably wind up having sex. Certainly, they’d wind up having sex.
“I’m sorry I did it this way,” Harry paused with a smirk on his face, “but not that sorry. Worked out in my favor.”
Y/n breathed out a laugh and shook her head, “Yeah, I guess you got your way. I imagine you’re used to that.”
“Heey! What’s that supposed to mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.
“It just means you’re probably not used to not getting exactly what you want.”
Harry nodded shallowly as he kept his eyes on the road in silence. He was just happy it had worked. He wasn’t sure it would. And yes, he was used to getting what he wanted but he didn’t expect to get everything he wanted. Not all the time anyway.
“My place is pretty small. Two bedrooms. One bathroom. A small backyard. So don’t judge, okay?” She was mostly teasing, feeling quite nervous about what was soon to happen. The state of her home was actually the last thing on her mind.
“Don’t be nervous, love. We’re going to have a great time together.”
Y/n gulped the saliva in her throat and looked ahead toward the road. She knew they’d have a great time together if their last time together was any indicator. In fact, she imagined it might be even better. He was visiting for three days and she had nothing to do other than finish the canvas she’d been working on for the past week. So they’d have a lot of time. To explore and to play. To talk.
She recalled a conversation they had one night over the phone when Harry brought up her pretty, plump bottom, his words still making her blush having never enjoyed anyone calling her plump in any way. But somehow, when Harry said it, it felt sexy. He made her feel sexy. Her curves and her extra bits, her tummy and ass and arms and thighs… they only spent the one night together but he made her feel as if all of her was beautiful.
“Such a pretty, plump bottom like yours… and you’ve never had anal sex before, or anything? My finger was the first to poke inside?” He spoke his words with a smile.
She was already lying down in bed and gently rubbing herself to the sound of his voice and he’d been heavily flirting and suggesting what they’d do together the next time they saw one another.
“No. Have never done anything back there,” she laughed breathily.
“We can change that. I can start by licking your pussy and your ass until you’re so wet and creamy that I can just slip my finger inside your little hole and get you ready for more.”
She moaned lightly at the idea.
He continued, “And once you’re shaking and begging to come I’ll slowly fill you up with my cock so you can finally experience what it’s like.”
Y/n laughed and paused her fingers, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
Harry groaned and panted (he was also touching himself), “Oh I would be in heaven to have you any way you wanted. But to be able to be your first experience with that would be amazing. But the question is, Y/n, would you like that?”
She squirmed in the soft black leather seats just thinking about it. She wasn’t sure if he’d want to go that route or not but she figured if he got her loosened up and drippy she probably would very much want that. She felt like he’d make it good. She knew he’d make it good.
Harry noticed the way she shifted and wondered if she was still on edge. He imagined her panties were a mess after what happened in the bathroom. He would have loved to have fucked her then and there but she asked to leave. And he could wait a little longer, though his cock was aching and pushing against the front of his trousers painfully.
Y/n was trying not to eye his crotch. He clearly had an erection. Still. And she knew he was nice and thick and long. Just remembering the way he looked had her thighs clenching together. Yes, she was still very wet in her panties, and knowing that soon he’d be using that thing on her gave her an idea.
She reached her hand over and put her palm on his upper thigh over his pants and Harry quickly glanced down before putting his eyes back on the road. He swallowed thickly. He liked where this was going.
“Gonna help me out a little?”
Y/n smirked and looked up at him as she unbuckled her seatbelt, “Do you want me to?”
Harry scoffed and shot his eyes at her quickly, “Is that a serious question?”
Biting her lip she positioned herself to lean over the leather console and began to undo the leather belt he had on. Harry adjusted his seating and pressed the seat back button to lean back a little to give her more room as she unbuttoned his pants. He parted his lips and let out a labored breath when he felt her palm over him.
He was so warm under her hand, even with the material of his pants covering him. She continued working on opening his pants up when the seatbelt warning dinged.
Harry groaned and rolled his eyes but she continued, not worried at all about the sound. She wanted to pull him out and play with him a little bit.
The road to her house from the restaurant was mostly along a small highway with no stoplights and very little traffic. Which she liked so she could have him out in her hand and no one would pull up next to them and catch a glimpse of what they were doing. Not to mention it was Harry Styles in the car, that would surely get some attention.
When she finally dragged his underwear down enough that she could grasp around him he moaned softly. She loved how he felt in her hand, the way he looked. She pulled from the base of his shaft upward, rolling his foreskin over his frenulum and back down. He was hard and his tip was pink and pretty like his lips.
The ding of the seatbelt warning chimed again as she leaned further over and moved her lips to right above his erect cock. Harry moved his arm away to give her space, before putting his hand on the back of her head. Her hair fell over the exposed skin at the base of his cock before he felt her lick gently over his slit and stroked him slowly as Harry drove down the road toward her home.
It was difficult to put him into her mouth with the console in between them but she had been able to put his tip in past her lips and lick all around him, lapping at his precome as she continued moving her hand in gentle strokes at his shaft.
Harry was panting shallowly and his stomach muscles were contracting. It felt so good to have her mouth and her hand on him. He wished he could look down to see her sucking him off but he had to keep an eye on the road, and with her seatbelt undone (thanks to the reminder every two minutes from the warning chime) he didn’t want to chance anything.
Y/n moaned around his slit and Harry choked out his words, “Fuck, baby. We’re almost there. Gonna give it to you so good when we get to your place.”
And she knew he would too. She wasn’t very experienced. She’d slept with two men before she got married but of all the men who’d fucked her, Harry was far and away the best at it.
Harry pulled into her small driveway, directly behind her Toyota Camry. Tucking himself back into his pants as she adjusted her dress before getting out of his car and plucking her keys from her purse.
“Did he pick you up here at your house?” He pointed toward her car in the driveway. He deduced that if her vehicle was there the date must have come to her home to pick her up.
Y/n paused and it took her a moment to understand what he meant but the realization dawned on her, “Yes. He did.”
Harry nodded, “So he knows where you live? Did you invite him in?”
Sighing she shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. Was he really doing this now? “Yes. He came in, stood in the doorway, and looked around while I grabbed my purse. That was it.”
Harry was standing over her with a small frown, “Were you planning on sleeping with him? After the dinner?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. What is this, Harry?” She pulled her arms upward before dropping them at her sides in frustration, the keys to her house jangling as she did so.
Putting his hands on her upper arms he slowly rubbed upward, “This is just me wondering what you were up to is all. It’s a good thing I got there in time to stop anything from happening.”
A scoff fell from her lips as she looked up at him, stunned, “No. This is you being jealous.”
Harry shook his head with a cocky grin and brought his left hand up to her neck and pulled her into his chest, “I’d be jealous if you left with him. But he’s nowhere to be seen now is he?”
She felt the small squeeze on her neck as he pushed her bottom gently to the front of his car, his hips connected to hers so she could feel him, “S’just you and me here, though. Isn’t it? You’re wet for me. Not for him,” his soft, warm mouth was suddenly pasted over her jaw and she gasped. It was hard for her head to fight its way out of the labyrinth of mush that he seemed to be so good at leading her into. But he knew that. He loved the way she responded to him.
Harry chuckled, his laugh vibrating off her neck as he tenderly kissed the edge of her parted lips before backing away and grasping her hand to pull her to her front door, “Let’s get inside then. Can’t fuck you out here on the hood of the car for all to see can I?”
Everything was rushed and desperate in her brain. She was shaky putting her key into her door to unlock with Harry right behind her, his hands at her hips, his lips on her neck.
The moment the door was closed and locked Harry pulled her into his arms and kissed her again. It was hot and frantic. They were both on edge and very much in need of release. Together. Even though he acted as if he had it totally together and he was in charge, he was feeling desperate too with the way his tip was leaky and his cock throbbed in his pants.
“It’s this way,” she panted breathlessly as she pulled his hand to bring him toward her bedroom.
But Harry paused when he saw a large, framed photo hung on the wall. It was of Y/n with a man. Kissing a man. She was wearing a beautiful wedding dress and the man was in a tuxedo with the backdrop of a lovely garden and flowers all around.
“Is… this you?”
Y/n was halted when she whipped her head to look at what he’d seen. She realized instantly what he meant.
“Um. Yes.”
“Are you… married?”
Y/n sighed and let go of Harry’s hand.
Talk about a mood killer.
Chapter 3
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The Affair Pt 2
Context:
What do you do when your husband cheats on you with your Head Alphas Omega?
You marry the Head Alpha of course? What’s better than revenge served with a wedding ring and an ultrasound photo?
<PART 1> <PART3>
Chapter Summary:
Eijiro needs you and it seems like you both need each other.
And Kane needs someone too.
Warning: Omegaverse!, Infidelity, Cursing, ex-communicating, Children, “Dammy” - GN term for Mommy, Katsuki being a bitch, Smut, biting, claiming, Breeding Kink, BLOOD!!!!, Sex with feels, crocs
You cleared the table, putting all the cups and cutlery in their places. The brightly lit dinning area for Pack A smelt of spices and savoury foods of the dinner menu that you had planned. You had stepped up a lot in the pack and it was very much appreciated. The sound of soft music playing in the air made you hum slightly at the warm atmosphere. It was just after dinner and everyone was wrapping up and going back to their separate homes.
You looked up from placing down the last fork in its tray. The pups were running around playing a last minute game of tag amongst each other, happy to have had another pack dinner. You smiled gently, missing Asahi. He was at his father’s place for the next week, taking intervals of being with you and with his dad every two weeks. The divorce wasn’t a struggle and you even got a whole lot of money you didn’t even want half of, but the custody battle was something similar to war. Midoriya was adamant about having more time with his son but you wanted to keep Asahi considering he was full-time ProHero and you were Asahi’s dam. In the end it was split almost 50/50 with any other extra weekends leaning to you. At the end of the day, you were just glad it was all over.
The last six months had everything settled down more. You were finally sleeping more and thanks to Kirishima you got your house renovated and redone to make it feel less like how it was back then. The pack had fallen into how it was back then, minus the heavy empty three spaces that were now present. With much thanks from the pack femmes, it was easier for you to cope with the divorce and with learning to take care of yourself again. You think you were getting back something of what you were before the divorce.
You hoped.
Yet you still felt so empty most days, especially when Asahi wasn’t home. You tried doing as much as you could for the pack since you had a lot more free time. You visited your parents, you visited Inko who was so ashamed when she saw you and started crying instantly the moment she saw you, you got some time to truly mourn through the loss of your marriage and yet you felt empty without anything.
You looked up and noticed Kirishima was talking to Iida. Kirishima had come a long way despite all the business he had to deal with. He had to deal with the splitting of the DynaRiot agency as well as his own divorce that was made much too messy due to his ex-husband. It was a train smash half the time and Kirishima just wanted it over and done with. From money situations to the Agency to the trust fund, everything felt like it took unnecessarily longer than it should have for Proheroes. Then there was him also having to deal with new responsibilities having to do with the Heroes Commission. However you were pretty sure that something died in Kirishima that day. His smile never reached his eyes nowadays and if it did, it was fake.
You needed to talk to Kirishima, but you weren’t sure how to go about it. The both of you had gotten closer since finding out your partners’ infidelity with one another. Talking to him had become easy but with what you needed to discuss it was going to probably be a bit uncomfortable. You walked over to him.
Iida’s gaze flicked over to you before Kirishima noticed you were approaching him. The redheaded Alpha turned his eyes towards you. His eyebrows raised in slight surprise but he gave a small smile. “Y/N.”
“Good Evening, Head Alpha.” You bowed your head towards him. “Deputy.” You nodded to Iida before turning to Kirishima. “Head Alpha, may I talk to you?” You asked.
Kirishima perked up, noticing how it was something more private. He nodded his head. “Of course,” He turned to Iida with a nod of his head. “I’ll talk to you more tomorrow, Tenya.” Kirishima took you off to the side away from earshot from others. Once the two of you were away from others walking towards your home, Kirishima turned to you. “What’s going on?” He asked you.
You hesitated for a moment. You felt heat move up your face realising what you were about to ask him. You cleared your throat as you tried pulling yourself together. “I’m sorry to bother you about this but… my… my official heat is coming up and I’ve never spent it without someone because I always had-” His name caused your words to stop in your throat and for your throat to close up. You looked down away from Kirishima as shame climbed up inside you. Kirishima frowned slightly, stepping closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You smiled up at him as you cleared your throat. “What I’m trying to say is-”
“You’ll be spending it with me.” You looked up at him in shock at what he had just said. Kirishima had a serious look on his face. The both of you stood in front of your front door. “I was meaning to talk to you about it actually. You are an unmated Omega,” you lifted a hand up to your neck rubbing over the slowly fading mating mark on your neck. “which makes you my responsibility. My rut is also due soon so it solves a problem I have myself. Also… I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”
You tilted your head to the side. “What is it?” You asked.
He hesitated looking off to the side for a moment. He watched the pack wrap up and start to disperse, going to bed for the night. You opened your front door and allowed Kirishima inside. You led him through your house, leading him to the kitchen where you only kept the light on there. You moved to fetch him a glass of red wine you had in the fridge. Kirishima leaned against your counter top, he happily accepted the glass of wine that you gave him.
“So what is it you need to talk to me about?” You asked him, sliding up to sit on the counter.
Kirishima looked down at the wine in his glass. He swirled it around for a moment. “Our pack’s reputation in the political and hero world has taken a hit since the affair happened. It’s been… hard trying to bring up the pack and deal with all of it over the past few months.” You nodded your head, understanding him. “I’ve, somehow, managed to retain my status as Head alpha of this pack and I’m being offered a position on the Hero’s Safety Commission board.”
You nearly spat out your wine at that as you looked up at him with wide eyes. “Oh my God, Eijiro.” He chuckled at your expression. You put down your glass. The board was a group of members that decided everything that happened regarding heroes and the safety of public concerning them. They were essentially a group of highly paid people that could put the actual government to shame. “You’ve been working so hard for this. Congratulations!” You smiled brightly, happy that he got such an esteemed offer.
He chuckled. “Thank you,” He bowed his head. “However, it comes with a few requirements…” He looked to the side. “Some of which I’ve already met but there’s a few I haven’t. One is that I have to resign from all on field work and basically retire from it.”
You furrowed your eyebrows at that. He would need to stop being a hero? “Is that what you want?” You asked him.
Kirishima let out a breath as he looked up at the ceiling. “I’ve been a hero since I was fifteen, nearly twenty years of my life and unfortunately I’m not getting any younger. Retirement for heroes nowadays is around forty with all the new fancy quirks that people have now in the new generation that’s coming up. I would miss the field work but if it’s for something as big as this, I think it’s worth the loss.”
You hummed but nodded your head. You understood his reasoning. The position that he would take up would make close to double a hero’s salary and it would be less physically straining on him. “I understand. What is the other requirement?”
Kirishima’s ruby eyes flicked up to you and for a moment you almost felt as though he was looking over your entire being. “I… I need a family. I need to be settled down. Especially since I’m a head Alpha without a heir or an omega.” He expressed to you as he put the wine glass he was holding on the counter beside him and out of his hands. Kirishima held the counter with both hands. “Iida told me that the pack needs good news, it needs stability, and it needs something from me that I can’t give them on my own. So… that’s where I thought you could come in.” You didn’t need much more of what he was saying to understand what he was asking of you. Kirishima quickly pushed himself away from the counter. “You don’t need to say yes of course. You could say no. I could always-”
“Do what? Get surrogate?” You asked him with a raised eyebrow. “Find a commission regulated Omega to be your new Omega?” You both stared at each other for a while, it becoming silent between the both of you. You closed your eyes thinking about it for a moment. You opened your eyes as you furrowed your eyebrows. “What’s in it for me?”
“Security.” He let out with a sigh as he leaned back. “You’ll have me and the whole Kirishima family in your debt, as well as it would be a good place in the pack for your son.” That peaked your interest the most. Kirishima knew it would. In this pack, family status was one of the most important things. It wasn’t out right stated but it was important. Just by his sire being Midoriya and all that he had done to you put you at a disadvantage, especially since he was all you had tying you to pack A with Midoriya gone. Asahi was all you had keeping you in high society and the good life with Pack A. And yet even now, all you were known as was Midoriya’s ex-wife and the dam to his pup… one of the dams to one of his pups.
You furrowed your eyebrows. It wasn’t something you wanted to be known for so you would have to change that. If being with Kirishima is what got you back some power in high society, power in this pack and power against your ex-husband, if it got your son’s spot in this pack to be safe and guaranteed, you would do it. “I’ll do it.” You told him honestly, looking back up to him.
Kirishima looked at you shocked. “You will?” He didn’t expect you to say yes. He half expected you to slap him across the face.
You nodded your head, folding your arms over your chest. You let out a breath. “Yes. I don’t think either of us deserve to feel alone. It’s… it’s a horrible feeling.” Kirishima and you were the only ones in the whole pack who could truly know how it felt like to live in silence, to go home and feel void of purpose or people. No one else understood that other than him. You looked down to the ground. “If… if being with you helps the pack and helps you, I don’t mind. I don’t think I could date either way. Besides… I think we should think of it more like… revenge.”
“Revenge?” Kirishima asked with a raised eyebrow, but before you could explain it to him, his face lit up understanding what you meant.
It might seem rather petty and maybe even absurd, but if he were to mate with you and take you up as his New Head Omega, there wouldn’t be many people who could stand against that. He would be in a powerful position of being a member on the Hero Commission board, with the ex-wife of the Number One ProHero of this country as his wife and as the dam to his pup. Nothing would be better revenge than moving on from Bakugou and Midoriya like that. Nothing would be more satisfying than seeing the look of their faces at the sight of the both of you.
Kirishima’s eyes darkened in realisation as a soft smirk went to his lips with a hum. “I guess it would be revenge… wouldn’t it?”
“It would.” You nodded your head. “I’ll be your Head Omega, Eijiro.” You stepped forward close to him, looking up at him. The smell of your scent becoming more apparent. It was sweet and heavy, something he found almost as if he could taste it on his lips. Kirishima stepped forward, becoming chest to chest with you. You looked up at the giant Alpha in front of you. “I’ll be your partner to ensure the success of this pack. If you can value me, respect me and give me purpose again…” You took his hand and placed it against you. “I’ll give you an heir and a spare if you wish.”
Kirishima stared down at you for a moment. He furrowed his eyebrows. “Good. You’ll need to stay near me so that you can adjust. It shouldn’t take you long though, considering you already had a pup.”
“It won’t.” You assured him. You reached to his side and picked up his glass of wine, sipping from it. “So…” You smiled up at him. “When do I move in?”
Moving in with Kirishima was something you were actually excited about because it meant you didn’t have to be alone anymore in your house and it gave you someone to bother, someone to keep your mind off of other things. It was interesting at first, trying to fit your lives together but it wasn’t particularly hard falling into a rhythm that consisted of coffee in the mornings, a fierce war of playing cards and falling asleep on the couch watching one of his many crimson Riot movies he wished to show you.
With Kirishima being Head Alpha you never felt uncomfortable with him and so you didn’t feel particularly pessimistic about this whole arrangement. It was a necessity for the pack. It was an agreement and it wasn’t because of love or some mutual feelings. Kirishima needed a pup, he needed a family, you needed security and something to keep you in high society and save face for your pack. It was the perfect arrangement.
But then came one potential small problem.
Asahi.
The five-year-old looked up at Kirishima with wide eyes as he held onto your legs. He looked at Kirishima for a hot minute before looking back up at you as you both stood in Kirishima’s house. “Dammy, why are we here?” He asked confused.
You kept your hands on his shoulders with a soft smile. Kirishima took a step forward, opting to explain it and let your son hear it from him and not from you. It would be better for him to hear it from him anyways. Kirishima smiled gently, his ruby red eyes looking over to your son who seemed very protective over you as he held your leg with a frown on his face. “I wanna take care of your dam, Asahi.” Kirishima clarified to him. “That means that your dam is going to be spending a lot of time with me. Now I know that you are the big masc in their life so I’m asking for your permission to court and look after your dam?” He spoke to Asahi professionally almost as if he wasn’t talking to a five-year-old.
Asahi looked up at you and then back to Kirishima. He glared for a moment with a low almost miniature growl that sounded more like a hum than anything. You gave Asahi a pointed glare. “Asahi, be nice.” You chastised him but he didn’t seem to care much.
Asahi let out a huff as he stepped in front of you. “Okay… but if you eat dammy’s chocolate or hurt them, I’ll bite your knees!”
You had to cover your mouth to stop the laugh that would have escaped you at his threat. Kirishima raised his eyebrows in surprise, an amused smile on his face. He nodded his head. “Alright.” He lifted his hands up in surrender to the green haired pup that glared up at him. “I promise not to hurt your dammy or eat their chocolate.” Kirishima promised.
Asahi looked the large Alpha up and down. He huffed in agreement before turning back to you. “I want pancakes.”
You chuckled and nodded your head picking him up. “My big strong boy gets all the pancakes, standing up for me so bravely.” You praised him, littering kisses on his cheeks which only made him chirp.
“Does this mean I can bother Uncle Eiji now?”
You let out a laugh. You sat him down in the kitchen and before you could even respond, Kirishima nodded his head. “Yep. You can bother me all you want to, little man.” He ruffled Asahi’s dark green hair making the pup giggle. You knew that having Asahi here might have made him a bit uncomfortable with the fact that Asahi looked so much like his dad, but Kirishima didn’t show it in the slightest. “Hey Asahi, have you seen one of my crocs? I’ve been missing one of my red crocs for a while.”
Asahi shook his head. “Nope.”
“Huh.” Kirishima scratched his head in confusion. He must have lost it in the move of everything. “It’s alright, how about I get us ice-cream, huh?”
Asahi gasped, his eyes widening with a sparkle. “Ice-cream!” He shouted. He turned to you with wide eyes and a pout, silently begging for permission.
You gave Asahi a pointed look as you went to get everything ready to make mid-day pancakes. You looked over to Kirishima with a look as he took out a tub of cookies and cream and already had a serving spoon held between sharp teeth. He turned to you confused but you couldn’t help but laugh at the look on his face. Asahi looked at you surprised to see you laughing again. He turned to look at Kirishima. He started giggling too.
Kirishima didn’t get it. “What?” He asked muffled by the big spoon in his mouth. “Is it the ice-cream?” Kirishima put it down on the counter. He motioned to the bucket of ice-cream. “Does he like mint or something?”
“Uncle Eiji,” Asahi giggled. “There’s a spoon in your mouth.” He pointed out to the giant Alpha.
Kirishima tilted his head. “Huh?” That only made Asahi giggle even more. You smiled at the sight, deciding to leave their ice-cream adventures today (although you would have to keep an eye on Asahi now that he knew where the ice-cream was).
When it was the week that you and Kirishima would experience your heat and his rut, Asahi was luckily with his father so you didn’t have to worry much about him. Both you and Kirishima went away for a while deciding to go and spoil yourselves at a resort. It was mostly because of the Bond package they had that provided rooms specially designed for shared Heats and Ruts for couples. It seemed like the perfect decision to leave for there for the week.
When the both of you arrived, having taken a flight to get there, you could tell that Kirishima was nearing his rut. You could tell by the way he refused to let go of your hand and he looked as though he wanted to kill every masc that acknowledged your presence. You didn’t question nor get bothered by his Alpha’s paranoia. You understood it and were actually quite relieved by it.
When you had gotten into your room, thick walls and all, Kirishima let you nest while he made sure you had enough water bottles and premade food to last you the entirety of your Heat and his rut. In truth, you were very nervous about nesting. You hadn’t nested since before the divorce. You hadn’t nested for an Alpha let alone yourself for a while. You just never felt the need to until now. Most of the clothes that was brought by the both of you were mostly for nesting purposes, not like you would wear much clothes anyways.
When Kirishima came into the bedroom he noticed you just finishing off the nest. You sat in your underwear as you chirped happily at the nest you were building. He stayed quiet till you acknowledged his presence, just opting to watch you. Bakugou almost never nested unless he was in a bad heat, or when he gave birth to Kade. It was strange watching nesting. He was unused to the sight of it.
You paused as you looked back at Kirishima who was silent. He had more of an inquisitive look on his face than any negative emotion. You looked up at him with wide eyes, the both of you just staring at each other. You motioned to him. “Shirt.” You pointed at it and then opened up your palm as if telling him to give it to you.
Kirishima chuckled but he didn’t argue with you on it. He took off the clothes that he had on and handed them to you, moving closer to your nest. You chirped in gratitude before finding a spot for each item of clothing somewhere, keeping all the softer items at the top. Once you seemed satisfied you turned back to where he stood, refusing to look anywhere below the waistband of his boxers for the time being even though you were pretty eyelevel in where you sat.
You motioned for him to come closer. “You… you can come check my nest, Head Alpha.” You requested from him, your voice soft.
He looked over it silently as he took a hesitant step inside. You scooted over allowing him space in the nest. Kirishima looked around the nest, finding it almost weird that he was there. That he was allowed inside it. However, his Alpha seemed more than pleased with the outcome of your craftsmanship. It smelled like the two of you. An odd blend but a necessary one nonetheless. It was nice. He liked it. He smiled at you and nodded. “It’s beautiful.” You felt a flush to your neck and cheeks but you smiled, a cute little smile that made Kirishima’s just feel a little more real. “You did a good job on it, thank you. We still have time, we should rest while we still have it.”
You nodded your head in agreement. “I could use a nice nap.”
The both of you settled in, getting used to the feeling of his body while your mind wasn’t drunk on pheromones and sex. He was warm. Really warm and big. You were glad that you took that into account whilst building the nest. Kirishima allowed you to find a comfortable space in his arms. He knew it was going to be a bit of an adjustment for the both of you but it didn’t seem like it would be hard.
Napping was probably the part you loved the most.
However, when Kirishima woke up again, delirious, and tired all he could truly notice was your whining. He opened his eyes looking over at you as you twisted and turned pushing at everything around you because you felt too hot. Needy whines came out of your mouth as you twisted and turned. It was then that Kirishima was hit with the most delicious smell to grace his nose. Sweet slick. Heavy savoury slick that was pooling in your underwear tempting him. He let out a groan, his cock already heavy and aching just at the smell of you.
A louder whimper escaped you. “Head Alpha.” You whispered as you placed a hand on his bicep. Kirishima turned around, caging you underneath him, looking down at you. You were pulling at your underwear trying to remove it to allow yourself to be bear in front of him. You keened and your encouragement was taken well by the redheaded Alpha as he ripped your underwear off your body, throwing them to God knows where. You immediately squeezed your legs trying to get pressure to your glistening sex that was leaking. “Help. Alpha, help.” You begged with tears in your eyes. “It hurts so much.”
Kirishima shushed you sweetly as he moved his forehead against yours. “It’s okay, just breathe.” He whispered moving his hands to your thighs and brushing the inside of them. “Just breathe, I’m here.” He instructed you. He parted your legs, allowing him space between them. Kirishima dragged his finger up your slit making you gasp.
He held down your thighs, keeping you bared in front of him. His pupils dilated as he stared at your sex, dripping in slick and clenching on nothing. Without much thought on the matter, he dragged his tongue up your slit making you moan as you bucked your hips up. With a groan, Kirishima dove in like a man dying of thirst. Every lick and suck making your legs shake and your moans only increase. You were withering underneath him.
The pleasure felt so good and yet also so foreign to you. You hadn’t felt this good in ages and it showed with how sensitive you felt. You felt the knot in your stomach only tighten. You bit back a moan as you turned your head, your thighs shaking “E-Eijiro…” You stuttered.
“Fuck.” He growled against you making you have to choke back a scream. “Cum for me.” He urged, slipping his fingers inside you. Your back arched off the bed in pleasure as you came on his face. You squirmed as he continued to guide you through it. He didn’t stop until he heard you whimpering, trying to close your thighs around his head to get him to stop at how sensitive you were.
Kirishima let out a satisfied hum as he leaned back, licking his lips with a low rumble from his chest. You laid back, trying to catch your breath as your body had a second to relax before the painful twist of your heat came back. Kirishima was already leaking through his boxers wishing to be inside you instead. Kirishima gripped at his boxers, hardening his hands and tearing them off not having the patience to slip them off.
Your eyes fell down his large figure, below deep sex lines. You felt yourself clench on nothing as you looked down at his thick cock. You nearly got scared at the sight of it. He was so much bigger than you thought. However your Omega seemed to greatly approve of him, squirming at the sight of him and releasing more slick at the deep and savoury pheromones he was releasing.
Going against what he normally did, Kirishima kept you facing up at him as he leaned down over you, a hand holding him up above you. He dragged a hand up your slit, taking slick and dragging it over his cock before angling his cock to your entrance. Kirishima looked down at you, his ruby eyes locking with you more pupil than iris. You moved your hand up to hold his intertwining your fingers.
You gasped as you arched your back just as he pushed his cock inside you. A painful whimper escaped your mouth as you moved your other hand to hold onto his torso, dragging your nails over his skin, piercing tanned skin as you tensed. Kirishima growled lowly at how tight your sex was gripping his cock. He pushed in, his cock bullying your cunt, forcing you into the shape of his cock.
Kirishima paused once he heard sniffling. He looked up at your face, noticing more tears than usual as you were crying. “Hey, hey…” He shushed you softly as he wrapped his arms around you, taking you into his arms as he tried to calm you down. A deep rumble came from his chest as he tried to soothe you. “Shh I know it’s painful, I’m sorry I-”
You shook your head. “Alpha don’t want me.” You cried as you kept your eyes closed. You turned your head away from him. “Not worthy. Don’t want me.”
Kirishima furrowed his eyebrows confused, and then it hit him. He softened his shoulders as he understood you. He rubbed your back gently. “I’m scared too.” He whispered by your ear. He buried his face in the crook of your neck. “So scared…” He breathed out as he tightened his grip on you. “But I want you, if you want me. We can be scared together.” He assured you as he kept you close to him
You turned to look down at him, the both of you switching positions, you being on top of him. You looked down and all you saw was fear. He was scared. His ruby eyes filled with so much insecurity it was like looking in a mirror. You gave him a sad smile as you joined hands with him. You clasped your hands with his larger hands. You nodded your head. “Scared together.” You assured him. You hesitated for a moment before moving your lips to his.
Kirishima let out a heavy breath, before leaning up to take you deeper. You hummed as you felt your hips move on instinct, your knees support you as you slowly grinded your hips on top of him. A groan came from the both of you. The feeling of him inside you, felt amazing and something you wanted to savour and yet keep inside you. He moved his hands down to your hips, helping you ride him as you moved up and down his cock.
You moaned as dragged your hands down to his chest, supporting yourself on top of him. You moved your ass up and down as your cunt gripped onto him like a vice. Kirishima groaned lowly, gripping you tighter. With all the strength in your thighs you moved up and down his cock, trying to get everything you could from it. You closed your eyes as you allowed yourself to feel good for the first time in over half a year. This was something you weren’t going to leave up to chance because of insecurity.
You choked on a moan as Kirishima fucked up into you now. Your whines and moans only spurring him in his endeavours of claiming you. You gasped as you held onto his pecs trying to stabilise yourself as he fucked into you hard and fast. “Fuck! Head Alpha!” You cried out in need. “Right there!” Just as he slammed into your cervix did you feel yourself cumming on his cock. “YES!” You shouted up to the heavens in need. Your legs were shaking. You bit your bottom lip as Kirishima fucked you through it.
You tilted your head to the side, exposing your neck towards him. Kirishima’s eyes widened at the gesture. “Are you sure?” He asked you surprised.
You nodded your head. “Please, get rid of him.”
With a growl Kirishima sat up and his teeth were on your neck. Instantly you screamed, the painful tearing of flesh and the burn of your mark being erased and covered with his own. Your nails dug into his skin, red marks being left on his back. Kirishima groaned at the taste of you on his tongue. He dug into the gap between your neck and your shoulder trying to override the claim that Midoriya had on your body. Your thighs were still shaking as he bit your neck. Soon pain became pleasure as you felt your body sink into his lap in submission. You rested your forehead against his shoulder with a heavy breath.
Kirishima licked over the new big mark on your scent gland. It was beautiful and big and it was prominent. He rubbed your lower back supportively. Just as you managed to raise your head off of him, you saw that Kirishima turned his head away from you, allowing you access to his neck. Your eyes widened as you looked to his neck. He held you securely as he nodded his head.
You moved your mouth over his scent gland on his neck. With a hum you used your canines and you bit into him, as hard as you could. A deep growl came out of him at the feeling of his old bond tearing and a new one forming between you and him. Blood trickled into your mouth as you bit as hard as you could into him. Kirishima put his head in the crook of your neck as his body began to shake as emotions overcame him once again. You tightened your arms around him. You let go of his shoulder, licking over the new mark.
Before you could check up on him, Kirishima flipped the both of you so you were back on your back. Without giving you a minute, you felt him fuck into you hard and fast. You moaned as you grabbed onto your chest. Your body jostling underneath him as he pitoned up into you. “Alpha! Alpha breed me! Pup me! Make me yours!” You begged as he growled deeply. He kept you underneath you. You felt his knot press against your entrance, threatening to slip in. You keened, wanting him. You reached up to his face Kirishima closed his eyes, tears slipping out of them. You placed his forehead against yours just as he pushed his knot into you. You both choked back a moan as you felt him cum inside you. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you so tight as if you would fly away from him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you both were overcome with emotions.
You felt sobs escape his body as you held him. “Y/N.”
You cried in his arms as you put your nose against his chin. You placed kisses on his head, holding him as tight as you could. You were both tied together, a bond that you both decided to take up and by the way he was holding you, he was begging that you would stay. “I’m here Eiji… I’m here.”
You both spent on your heat and his rut together like that. Wrapped in each other’s arms and holding each other as if it would all be one cruel dream. It was a flurry of mess of emotions, lust, anger and sadness and yet by the end of it, you were both satisfied.
Kirishima held you to his chest, your back against his front as you looked out the sliding door at the setting sun over the ocean. You leaned against him, tired and exhausted from the week you had both just had. You kept a hand over your lower abdomen as you tilted your head up to look at him. Kirishima watched the sunset dip under the horizon with a blank look on his face, before turning to look down at you. You smiled up at him, moving your hand up to his thick red hair.
The redhaired Alpha seemed to ease at the sight action. “How are you feeling?” He asked you softly, a hand rubbing your hips.
“Good.” You replied as you nudged his jaw with your nose softly. You relaxed back into bed as you closed your eyes briefly. “I’m good. I’m going to miss this view though, but to be fair, I didn’t look at it most of the time.”
Kirishima chuckled at your comment. “You don’t have to tell me.” He looked down at where your hand lay on top of your lower abdomen. He furrowed his eyebrows slightly.
“Hey.” You moved Kirishima’s head so that he would look at you and focus on your face. You gave him a soft smile. “One thing at a time, okay.”
He nodded with a smile as he dropped his head with a breath. A deep rumble came from his chest as he fell back in bed. He pulled you against him. “Sorry.” He mumbled against your skin.
You chuckled and shook your head, silently telling him not to apologise. You turned in his warm arms. “Don’t apologise, Eiji. I get it.” You whispered.
“Thank you.”
The front door opened allowing you to see inside. “Asahi buddy, you’ve got to clean up after you’ve eaten.” Your ex-husband said from the opposite you, talking to one of his son’s behind you. When he turned back around to see you, his eyebrows raised in shock to see you standing at his front door. His green hair was in its normal mess of curls on his head but he looked like how he did when you both first became parents. The tenseness in his shoulders and the slight dark bags under his eyes showed you that much. He looked at you blankly for a moment. “Y-Y/N… You’re here.” He let out softly.
You nodded your head. “Yes. Yes I am.”
He leaned against the doorway. “Sorry, I’m just surprised. You never usually come up to the apartment when picking up Asahi.” He expressed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he scratched the back of his head.
You motioned behind you to the elevator. “Should I go back down?” You asked him rather nonchalantly.
“No!” He quickly told you. He shook his head. “No, don’t. Please.” He stepped to the side allowing you access into the house. “Come in. Asahi already packed his bags so I’ll just fetch him.” He told you.
You stepped inside the penthouse apartment looking around. The pristineness of it all making it look really luxurious. You were not the least bit surprised considering the two of them were the nation’s top two heroes. “Nice place.” You acknowledge. “It’s really pristine, are you sure children live here?” You teased although it sounded more like a critic than anything else.
“Yah,” He said scratching the back of his head. “Katsuki prefers stuff like this. He likes to keep the place nice and clean. You know how Katsuki is.”
“Unfortunately.”
Midoriya hesitated for a moent. He cleared his throat as he motioned to the side down a hallway. “I’ll go get him.” You raised a hand to stop him. You approached him carefully. Midoriya stiffened as you came closer to him than you have in months. You dug in your bag and pulled out a baby wipe, you wiped his cheek of what looked like chocolate. You scrunched it up putting it in a mini plastic bag that you kept in your bag. Midoriya watched you speechlessly for a moment before softening, that loving look in his green emerald eyes telling you everything. “Thank you.” He motioned to the living area. “You can make yourself comfortable.” He notified you.
You gave him a brief smile before turned away from him. As Midoriya disappeared, you turned your attention to the rest of the living area. You stepped further into the apartment looking around. It was indeed beautiful. Deep in the city an close enough to their hero agencies. It was a rather advantageous place in the city.
As you walked around, something caught your eye. Underneath the dining table was a small… nest? You tilted your head to the side in surprise. A bunch of pillows and a blanket were there. Peaking his head out of the small bundle there was Kane. He seemed hesitant to peak out at first. His crimson eyes widened in surprise at the sight of you. “Aunty Y/N…” He let out in surprise; his voice quiet.
You furrowed your eyebrows slightly at the odd sight. From what you remembered from your interactions with Kane, he never nested, at least not on his own. “Hey there, Kane.” You crouched down next to him, giving him space and not interfering with the little safe space he crafted for himself. “How are you?” He shrugged not answering you as he looked down at his lap. You furrowed your eyebrows. “What’s up, sweetheart?” You asked him.
Kane didn’t answer you immediately at first. “The pups at school are still mean to me.” He spoke in a low voice.
“The pack pups?” You asked him in slight surprise.
He shook his head. “No. They’re all still nice to me. Aunty Momo packs extra tinkies in Sonomi’s bento for me and all the others try to play with me whenever he can.” You smiled at the sound of that, glad that the pups didn’t stop being friends. His chubby hands fiddled with one another. “But they can’t play with me all the time the else the other pups in class get mean to them too for being with me. The others call me mean names cause they say what happened between you and Uncle De- I mean… dad, happened because of me.”
You shook your head. “No, no it’s not because of you, honey.” You sat down next to his little nest. You took his small hands in your own and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Your sire and I…we-”
“I know it has something to do with Poppa.” He told you, his eyes down casted as he spoke. “It’s okay, you don’t have to hide it.”
Your heart broke for the little pup in front of you. “Yes but that’s adult problems. You don’t have to worry about all that.” You assured him. “Listen honey, I know it hurts what the kids say, but you’ve got to tell your teacher about it. Okay? What does your dam say?”
Kane wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “He just told me to tell them to stop and be strong, but Y/N…” You noticed small tears come to his eyes as he bit back a crippled whine. “I don’t like being strong.” He whispered shaking his head.
You frowned and offered him a hug. Kane pushed himself off his pillows and moved to wrap himself around you. Small little distressed yips escaped him as he held onto you. You rubbed his back with a soft comforting purr from your chest, trying to be supportive and comforting to him. Midoriya walked into the room but paused at the sight of you and Kane. He stepped back for a moment not wanting to interrupt. He noticed that Kane was down and tried his best to talk to him but Kane didn’t seem very eager to talk so he gave his pup some space. Midoriya was glad that he could at least seem to talk to you.
Kane pushed himself back. Rubbing his eyes. You quickly pulled out a tissue from your bag and wiped his nose helping him. “Thank you.” He said softly. He reached back amongst the pillows and pulled something you never thought you would see him hold. In his arms was a huge croc, too big to be his own and was blood red. He handed it over to you. “Please give this back to Daddy.” He whispered. “I took it without his permission, so tell him I said sorry. Poppa said I can’t keep it anymore.”
You took the croc from him and put it in your bag. “Okay,” You smiled. “I’ll give it to him.”
“Kane.” Instantly the pup tensed as he looked up past you. You turned your head to see walking through the entranceway in all his glory was Bakugou Katsuki. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at his pup. Kane shrank back. Bakugou put one hand on his hip as he dropped his work bag on a nearby couch. “What did I say about nesting under the dining table?”
Kane lowered his head. “Sorry, Poppa.” He apologized with a soft mumble.
Bakugou let out a soft breath. He motioned for him to get out of the small space he was under. Kane carefully crawled out, moving to stand next to you, away from his nest. Bakugou motioned to the nest with a well-manicured fingernail. “Clean it up, Kane. You know that Poppa doesn’t like messes.” Kane nodded his head slowly, doing as he was told and carefully taking a pillow into his arm. He was about to waddle away to put it back where he found it when Bakugou stepped forward and took the pups face in his hands. He looked over the smaller version of himself. He frowned. “Were you crying?” Kane didn’t respond. “Go wipe your face, Kane.”
Kane nodded his head. “Yes, Poppa.” Without another word, the little blond walked away to put the pillow back on the couch.
You furrowed your eyebrows before you turned to look up at Bakugou. “You didn’t have to do that Katsuki. He feels comfortable under there.” You pointed over to the dining table.
Bakugou rolled his eyes as he looked back down to you. Smokey red eyes looking down at you with such superiority in them it almost made you sick. “What are you doing here, Y/N?” He asked.
You furrowed your eyebrows and stood up off the floor. “I’m just here to fetch Asahi.” You told him.
He let out a hum as he looked you over. Then something caught his eye.
“Sorry guys,” Midoriya said as he walked in with Asahi. “Asahi lost one of his shoes, we had to find it.” He expressed as he held hands with the small five year old. “See you later, bud.”
“Bye Daddy.” Asahi smiled up to him, before turning and running into your arms. “Dammy!” He shouted.
You chuckled as you opened your arms, accepting him into your arms with a laugh. “Hey there, Asahi.” You smiled broadly. “You enjoyed your time with Dad?”
He nodded his head. “Yep. Let me just go say bye to Kane.” He told you, leaving your embrace to go to the pup that was busy holding a blanket in his arms and moving it back to his room.
“Y/N…” You turned towards the blond Omega who stood where he was. He furrowed his eyebrows. “You sure move on fast.” He stated motioning to the week old mating mark on your neck. It was then that Midoriya noticed it. The large mark on your neck that wasn’t there last time he saw you. It was clearly new and fresh and made something stir inside him as he tensed his jaw.
You motioned to him. “So did you.” You stated. “Faster than me, actually.” You reminded him with a smile.
Bakugou smiled venomously. “Who’s the lucky Alpha?”
You looked to Asahi who was giving Kane a hug, saying something you couldn’t hear. “Does it matter?” You asked him with a raised eyebrow. Luckily, just in a nick of time, Asahi came walking back over to you, taking your hand in his. “Ready to go?”
He nodded his head. “Mhm.” He told you.
Midoriya had turned his attention to Kane, having offered to take the blanket back for him. He waved a hand to you with an absent minded smile.
“Uncle Eiji!” Asahi shouted as he entered the house with a smile.
Kirishima chuckled as he looked at the little green haired pup. “Hey there, little man.” He put a hand to Asahi’s curly hair. “Have fun at your dad’s place?”
He nodded his head. “Yup, I made macaroni art at school!”
Kirishima laughed. “Alright, how about you go drop your bags in your room, okay? Then we can play Monopoly.” With a happy cheer, Asahi raced upstairs making you laugh as you closed the door. Kirishima turned to you with a smile. “How was it?” He asked as he leaned against the counter of the kitchen.
You put your bag on the counter. “It was alright. They seem to be doing good for themselves, I assume.” You told him as you went to wash your hands in the sink. You grabbed your apron and wrapped it around your waist.
“How’s… how’s Kane?”
You turned to look at Kirishima. He looked to you very concerned for the blond pup. You eased as you walked over to him, leaning against him. “He’s… he’s struggling.” Kirishima’s eyebrows furrowed even further. “The pups at school are making life hard for him.” Kirishima was silent as he thought about it. It worried him and yet he knew there was nothing he could do. He had no right or stance for that pup and yet it hurt hearing that he wasn’t okay. You moved to fetch something out of your bag. You handed it over to him. Kirishima looked down and his eyes widened in surprise. “That’s from Kane. He apologized for taking it from you.” You put your head against his shoulder. “He misses you.”
Kirishima raised the croc closer towards him in surprise. He frowned. “Kane…” He whispered.
“Kane.” The little blond pup looked up from where he sat on his bed. He held a little dinosaur in his hands. Midoriya smiled as he looked into the room. One bed was done neatly and left untouched in the room. Asahi’s. Midoriya stepped inside with a decorated box in hand. “This came for you, bud.” He placed it in front of him. Kane’s eyebrows raised in surprise. He pulled the gift closer towards him, looking over it. He moved it around. “Do you need help opening it?”
“Where’s Poppa?” Kane asked looking up from the gift. “He said he would be back to give me a bedtime story?”
Midoriya opened his mouth to speak but hesitated he shrunk back slightly. He let out a breath as he took a moment. “He… he wanted me to tell you that he got into a last minute meeting at work and he won’t be back for a story tonight.” Midoriya watched the disappointment play on Kane’s face as he nodded his head, understandingly. Midoriya frowned, knowing that Kane needed someone. He hesitated thinking back to his schedule. He had a lot of paperwork to do and before this whole fiasco, you would always handle Asahi before bed giving him a moment to say goodnight to Midoriya before putting him to sleep. Midoriya looked at his watch before looking back at Kane. “Hey.” He smiled broadly. “I just gotta make a quick phone call and grab something. I’ll be right back, okay buddy?”
Kane nodded, as he watched Midoriya leave. He was left once again alone in bed with his nightlight on. Wiping his eyes, he pulled open the wrapping paper of the present. It was a shoe box. Kane tilted his head to the side as he looked over the box. On the top of it, there was a written note for him.
To: Kane
So that we can match.
-E.K
Kane tilted his head to the side confused at who E.K was. He opened the box and moved the paper to the side. His eyes lit up with a gasp. Looking up at him was a pair of red crocs with a bunch of little buttons for him to put on the holes. Kane smiled brightly as he lifted one of the crocs. When he put it to his nose he noticed that the smelled just like his dad. That’s when he remembered what E.K stood for. He smiled down at the box before closing it quickly. He lifted his head, noticing the footsteps in the hallway. He pushed all the wrapping away and put the box underneath his bed before quickly getting back within the covers.
Midoriya peaked back inside. “Sorry about that Kane, I had to make a call to my PA real quick. But which one do you want to read?” Midoriya brought up two story books. “The Red dragon and the prince, or the Green Bunny pastures?”
Kane furrowed his eyebrows for a moment before looking up at Midoriya. “But why, don’t you have work?”
“Yah but… it can wait for one story.” He told Kane as he moved over to sit on the bed near him. He smiled gently at the blond boy. “Besides, these stories are much more interesting than boring paperwork.” Midoriya stuck out his tongue and shook his head. “That makes me sleepy just thinking about it.”
Kane let out a soft laugh at the gesture. Midoriya smiled watching him ease slightly. Kane pointed to the green one. “The green rabbit please.”
Midoriya grinned, a dimpled smile. “My personal favourite.”
-Glitch1d
Head over to the AO3 Page of this fic. It gets updated there a few hours before here.
Taglist:
@aviesnapkindoodles @lovecatsreal @skylunar2k @bakusquadobsessed @toxicberrie @surprisemodafakas @sleepilysworld @trashgirl0-0 @sparky-n-smiley69 @5sos-wdw @erensbbg
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#bakugou x kirishima#kirishima smut#kirishima x reader#kirishima thirst#alpha kirishima x reader#dad kirishima#alpha kirishima#alpha kirishima eijirou#alpha kirishima x omega reader#kirishima eijiro#izuku x reader#midoriya izuku angst#izuku midoriya x reader#katsuki x izuku#bakudeu#izuku angst#bakugou katsuki angst#alpha izuku x reader#mha x y/n#bnha omegaverse#kirishima angst#tw infidelity#omega bakugou#omega bakugou katsuki#omega reader#alpha deku x reader#alpha izuku#alpha izuku midoriya
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kinktober day 2
characters: kaveh, reader
relationship: kaveh x reader
theme: bathroom sex
notes: i don’t have much to say about this one tbh. i reaaaaaally need to stop procrastinating lmao. no pronouns used for reader, but reader is afab! MINORS DNI. 18+ CONTENT.
word count: 1723
after a long day of commissions from the adventurer’s guild, the only thing on your mind was going home to your loving boyfriend and showering. the second sounded absolutely amazing considering the dirt and grime caked onto your body and clothes.
the front door was already unlocked, signaling that he was home- a surprise that was more than welcome. usually, you were home first- were you that late?
locking the door after shuffling inside, you kicked off your dirtied shoes and dropped the heavy bag from your shoulder to the floor with a small ‘thump’, the sound echoing through the house.
“love?” kaveh’s voice called out and not even a moment later, his blond head poked out from the living room to peer into the kitchen. his red eyes lit up upon seeing you and he smiled, walking over to wrap you into a tight embrace, “you’re late..” he murmured, looking down at you.
giving a sheepish smile and a nervous laugh, you wrapped your arms around his waist, “sorry, kav. picked up some extra commissions that katherine had.”
he smiled, “you’re always too selfless-“ his hand raised, thumb rubbing along the scabbed over cut on your cheek, blood and mud caking it, “i just wanna put you in a bubble most of the time.”
“i’d still find a way to cause a ruckus or injure myself.” you laughed, blinking up at the blond, “now, i reaaaaally want to shower.”
“i can tell.” kaveh said with a teasing tone, thumb still stroking your cheek as his other hand held your waist, “mind if i join?”
a common request that you never usually turn down.
“if you want to.” you shrugged with a smile before slipping from his arms to grab his hand, fingers lacing together.
getting into the bathroom, you started to strip after turning on the water, steam filling the room.
kaveh let out a teasing whistle, shamelessly watching the little show in front of him, “i feel like i fall more and more in love with you every day.”
“even when i’m covered in mud and look like a mess?” you asked with a small laugh, raising an eyebrow.
“especially then.” he confirmed without missing a beat.
after stripping fully, you hopped into the shower and allowed the hot water to run along your sore muscles, the water turning a dark color from the dirt and sweat as it ran down the drain.
it didn’t take kaveh long before he followed suit, taking his place behind you. with delicate hands that fit an architect, he helped wash your hair and the mud from your body, and in return, you did the same for him.
resting his hands on your waist, he smiled down at you, “i missed you.” he murmured, placing a soft kiss on your lips, “it was boring being home before you.”
“i’m flattered.” you laughed teasingly, arms wrapping around kaveh’s neck, “i missed you as well.”
a comfortable silence fell between the two of you, the water hitting your back and dripping to the floor of the bathtub. turning to face the stream, your back now faced kaveh.
not wasting a second, he hugged you from behind, arms curling almost possessively around your waist, “you look cute..” he murmured, placing soft kisses to the base of your neck. one of his hands snaked down to between your legs, teasingly rubbing at your bundle of nerves.
“kaveh-“ you gasped out, hands gripping at his wrists yet not stopping him. the stimulation was making your legs tremble as he teasingly slid his fingers along your wet folds, collecting the juices to swirl around your clit.
“yes?” he asked, feigning innocence. his achingly hard cock pressed to the curve of your ass, drawing a soft noise from his throat when you ground back slightly.
your soft noises only egged him to continue his movements, slowly moving to dip his finger into your weeping cunt. first one, then two and three- when he added the fourth, you were nothing but a quivering mess in front of him. if it wasn’t for his sturdy hold around your waist, you surely would’ve collapsed from your trembling legs.
“kaveh-“ you moaned out, rolling your hips unconsciously against his hand as he fingered you with fervor, drawing you closer and closer to an orgasm, “‘m c-close-“
placing a soft kiss on the base of your neck, kaveh hummed, “go ahead and let go for me, love.” he whispered, fingers speeding up while his thumb started to rub at your puffy clit again.
with a pleasured cry, you came hard on his fingers, body growing tense. he continued to finger you, but slower to help you down from your high- only stopping to pull them out and replace them with his aching cock.
“are you ready?” he asked, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. his hands held you in place, your upper half-pressed to the tile of the wall in the bathtub.
“yes-“ came your shaky response followed by a nod, “please, kav-“ eyes wide and pleading, you peeked at the blond over your shoulder.
without wasting a moment longer, he sheathed his hard length inside you in one swift move, drawing a moan from your throat. he groaned softly, teeth nipping at the skin of your neck.
the sound of slapping skin and running water filled the room, kaveh’s pace immediately picking up and becoming brutal. one of his hands grasped at your thigh, pulling it slightly for a better angle to drive his cock into your weeping cunt, drawing even more noises from your pretty lips.
the delicious feeling of his hard length drawing along your gummy walls had you clenching around him, breathy moans leaving you, “k-kav-“ you gasped out, forehead pressing to the tile of the wall, “i-i’m-“
any other words were cut off as you came again, legs growing weak from the intense pleasure that only seemed to increase as he fucked you through your orgasm, hips snapping even faster.
“so.. tight-“ kaveh grunted as he felt your tight walls clench around his cock.
a small whine left your lips when he suddenly pulled out but any protest died off when he turned you around to face him, your back now pressed against the wall.
attaching his lips to yours in a deep kiss, he repositioned his hard length at your drooling cunt, teasingly rubbing it along your folds before dipping in again to return to the same pace as before.
kaveh’s hands found their homes at the back of your thighs as he lifted you slightly to get a better angle, his thrusts becoming deep and fast.
“kaveh!” you moaned out, arms wrapped around the blond’s neck. shallow crescent-shaped indents formed on his back from your nails as they dug into his skin, but he ignored the sting in favor of the feeling of your walls clenching perfectly around him.
“‘s too much-“ you whined out, overstimulation zapping at your body. he softly shushed you, placing tender kisses against your lips, cheeks, neck- anything to distract you.
“it’s okay, love.” he managed out around a few breathy moans of his own, “jus’ one more. can you do that for me?” his words were slightly slurred as he panted, lips attaching to your neck again.
nodding slightly, you clenched around him again, small moans leaving you as he continued to pound into your abused and puffy hole. a white ring was forming around the base of his cock, the sight only managing to turn him on even more as his hips moved faster than ever.
“close, ‘m c-close-“ you whined out, nails digging into kaveh’s back, “too much- ‘s too much-“ any other words became incoherent, but he could swear he heard the soft call of his name.
“shhh, shhh..” he cooed softly, hands digging into the soft skin of your thighs as he held you up, “just let go, mmkay? let go for me..”
a few more thrusts from him had you cumming again on his cock, a loud moan leaving you as your head tipped back, mouth falling open.
the sight of you squirting had kaveh moaning softly, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he slammed into you a few more times before burying his cock as deep as he could. not even a moment later, thick white ropes of his cum filled your drooling cunt and he groaned, forehead resting against your chest as you both tried to catch your breaths.
“are you okay?” kaveh asked a few moments later, gently pulling out to inspect for any damage or issues- he was always so caring afterward.
giving a small nod, your arms still wrapped around his neck. seeing as your boyfriend was the only thing keeping you standing, there was no point in letting go.
he smiled and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before cleaning up the new mess that coated your lower bodies. globs of his cum dripped out of your puffy hole and he bit his bottom lip at the sight, eyes flickering back up to your face.
if it wasn’t for the exhausted look, he would’ve gone for a few more rounds. but he could tell just how tired you were, so he swallowed his thoughts and helped clean you up before assisting you out of the shower.
his hands gently worked the towel through your wet hair and down your overexerted body to collect any water before slipping one of his shirts and a pair of panties and shorts onto you.
he dried himself off and slipped his own clothes on before helping you to the bedroom, being gentle the entire time. kaveh mindlessly chatted the entire time, whispering small words of praise or sweet nothings.
settling you onto the bed, he joined immediately and cuddled you close under the blankets.
“g’night, kav..” you murmured with a yawn, burying your face against his chest. he smiled and ran a hand through your damp hair before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “love you…”
his heart fluttered at your words and sleepy voice, a smile forming on his lips as he pulled you closer, “i love you too. get some rest.”
the room soon filled with comfortable silence and the soft sound of breathing as you both fell asleep, embraced in each other's arms.
#cynosfunnyjokes writes#cynosfunnyjokes#fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction writer#genshin impact#genshin imagines#genshin fanfic#gender neutral reader#kinktober#genshin smut#gi kaveh#genshin kaveh#kaveh smut#kaveh my beloved#genshin impact kaveh#kaveh x y/n#kaveh x reader#kaveh x you#kaveh#top kaveh#reader is not lumine#reader is not traveler#genshin x reader#genshin x you#smut#biting#it’s not dirty if they’re in the shower#how do i tag this#moaning and groaning
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Alcina Dimitrescu Masterlist 2
Posted: 1/27/24
Updated: 2/8/24
18+ Minors DNI - You will be blocked
Complete Masterlist Here!
Imagines
Alcina adopts baby Y/N
Alcina adopts baby Y/N: Drabble - Y/N grows up and smokes pot with the girls
More head canons with Alcina and toddler Y/N
Toddler Y/N sees Alcina as a dragon for the first time
Y/N gets powers after getting the cadou
Alcina divorces Y/N but they eventually get back together
Alcina divorces Y/N but they eventually get back together part 2
Alcina divorces Y/N but they eventually get back together part 3
Alcina comforting Y/N who is crying in their sleep
Secret bottom!Alcina x Y/N
Alcina and Y/N adopt Y/N's orphaned sibling
Batcina AU part 1 (Motherly vampire bat Alcina)
Batcina AU part 2
Batcina AU: Y/N gets hurt by a bear
Alcina's long lost child AU
Alcina's long lost child AU part 2
Alcina's long lost child AU part 3
Alcina's long lost child AU: Y/N has scars from Raccoon City
Alcina's long lost child AU: Miranda's not completely bad
Alcina's long lost child AU: Miranda finds and tortures Y/N
Alcina’s long lost child AU: Miranda finds and tortures Y/N part 2
Alcina’s long lost child AU: Miranda finds and tortures Y/N part 3
Y/N gets sub!Alcina pregnant
Alcina lactation fic
Alcina lactation fic: Alcina warming Y/N up
Alcina breastfeeds fussy Y/N
Y/N falls for Miranda but she experiments on them and they fall for Alcina
Alcina flirts with Y/N but is already in a committed relationship
Alcina flirts with Y/N but is already in a committed relationship part 2
Alcina flirts with Y/N but is already in a committed relationship part 3
Period sex with Alcina
Alcina feeds from Y/N but is too rough and they run away scared
Alcina getting some affection
Y/N has a hard time opening up to Alcina
Y/N challenges the girls to watch a horror movie
Alcina Dimitrescu x Miranda Priestly x Y/N crossover
Y/N gets brainwashed by Miranda angst
Y/N gets brainwashed by Miranda angst part 2
Awesome paid commission request about Alcina
Lady and the the idiot (Y/N is a Dumb simp AU)
Lady and the idiot part 2
Headcanons
RE8 women react to Y/N with a southern accent
What each RE8 woman smells like
RE8 women react to Y/N playing guitar
RE8 women react to Y/N saving them
What it's like to be the pet of each Dimitrescu woman
Going from pet to lover with the Dimitrescu women
The RE8 women's favorite kinks
Alcina Dimitrescu is the kind of woman who will get mad at you for…
Reader being feral and using a strap on the RE8 women
RE8 women react to Y/N failing a test and being sad
Y/N is obsessed with Alcina's tits
How the RE8 women act when they want Y/N's attention
Y/N being possessive of the Dimitrescu women
Y/N has separation anxiety with the RE8 women
Period sex with the RE8 women
Reader spanking Alcina, Donna, Cassandra, and Elena
How the RE8 women take care of you when you’re sick
How the RE8 women take care of you after a bad day
The Dimitrescus' and Donna's love languages
Alcina NSFW alphabet
The Dimitrescu women can turn into rats
How the RE8 women (And Jill Valentine) help you celebrate your birthday
Love confessions with the RE8 women
RE8 women react to Y/N who can turn into a varcolac
The Dimitrescu women take care of Y/N who had their wisdom teeth out
The RE8 women find Y/N's sketchbook
RE8 women and golden showers
RE8 women being possessive of Y/N around their ex
RE8 women being possessive of Y/N around their ex: angsty endings
RE8 women react to their future S/O who flirts using bad pick up lines
RE8 women with Y/N who falls asleep in random places
RE8 women react to Y/N having a panic attack
RE8 women react to finding out Y/N had an abusive ex
RE8 women trying to keep their relationship with Y/N secret
How Y/N tries to woo the RE8 women
RE8 women find out Y/N used to be an Umbrella scientist
RE8 women react to Y/N coming home from the bar with a black eye
RE8 women react to Y/N coming home from being in a city overrun with infected
How Y/N reacts to the Dimitrescu women being hurt
The Dimitrescu women fussing over Y/N to take vitamins because they feed from them
How the Dimitrescu women first met Y/N and how they introduced them to the family
The Dimitrescu women react to Y/N getting the family crest tattooed on themself
Incorrect Quotes
Cass already broke her New Year's resolution to stop killing maids at the dinner table
Y/N fixing a hole in the wall caused by the Dimitrescu sisters
Y/N coming home after hanging out with the Dimitrescu sisters
Y/N needs to interview someone for a class project. They chose Alcina.
Alcina and Y/N on their first date
Alcina is very mad
Y/N setting up a blanket and pillow on the couch
Alcina and Y/N meet for the first time
Y/N calling a secret meeting with the Dimi sisters
Gif Reactions
RE8 women realizing they're in love with Y/N
Alcina's reaction to each daughter cussing
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Runaway
CW: MDNI, 18+ themes, mentions of domestic abuse, being held hostage, f!reader, mentions of avoiding pregnancy, porn without *a ton* of plot, daddy kink, drinking, drunken sex, rough sex, creampie, breeding, Dabi is an asshole but we love him anyway, might turn this into a part 2 if I decide to go anywhere with it, enjoy
You’ve been with the League for approximately five hours. From the first hour that Dabi found you shivering and beaten in the alleyway, and brought you to headquarters to present you to Shigaraki, time has been a blur. You only know that it’s been about three hours from the single analog clock hanging above the cozy little bar.
Cozy. Now that’s a word you never would have associated with Villains. It is, though. The space is poorly lit and badly furnished, but the sweet girl who bounces around on her tiptoes and speaks to Dabi as though he’s a big brother makes the shabby space brighter all on her own. Toga. She’s sitting next to you now, cross legged on the couch, holding your hand and beaming at you from time to time.
Spinner has barely spoken to you, but the looks he keeps tossing your way are not malicious, only curious. Twice has been arguing, mostly with himself for hours- “I could be nice to her! No I can’t! She might be a friend- She’s probably an undercover Hero! This is an opportunity! THIS IS A SET UP!”
You have been sitting on a worn couch for some time now, shivering not from cold but from anticipation; after Dabi asked you to display your Quirk for Shigaraki, they disappeared into a room upstairs to discuss. You can hear them now, arguing heatedly in muffled bursts.
Your Quirk. Your lips curl at the thought of it. When you were younger, you thought that someday it would make you the world’s greatest Hero, the next All Might. It didn’t do that for you. What it did do was land you in the 91st Hero slot for a couple years, slowly slipping through the ranks until you landed beyond the 100th mark; it gave you a Pro Hero husband who held your hand in public for the media, but beat you behind closed doors; It caused the Hero Commission to chew you up and spit you out time and time again: why isn’t your Quirk improving? Why aren’t you getting stronger? You’re being lazy. Finally, it cost you the life you had been trained to want.
It sounds so nice to have a telekinesis Quirk until the pressure is really on you to be amazing with it, as though you aren’t worried that you’re going to crush someone under a car or dismantle an entire building full of civilians every time you’re involved in a chase.
And what happens next? Your husband will turn on you. He will accuse you of making him look bad every time you fail. He will taunt you and mock you, swearing on everything he loves that you will never outrank him, never be stronger than him. He will become petty and domineering, cutting you off from your family, your friends, your confidence. And eventually, he will decide that you are no longer worth staying with because your career has fizzled and it makes him look weak. He will beat you, and throw you out of your own apartment, beginning a smear campaign with the media before you even have time to pack.
By the time you leave the apartment, the Hero Commission will have fired and publicly denounced you. Your family will close the door in your face. Your friends will skirt by you in the street while on patrol and pretend they didn’t spend harrowing years at UA with you. To him, to them, to everyone- you are a monster.
And so, you will get on a train somewhere, and end up in a strange city several days later, your bruises yellowing, your scabs just starting to heal, nowhere to go, no money to spend, and sleep in an alleyway until you can figure out your next plan.
You are twenty two years old, and you are already washed up. Even better, you are homeless, you are broke, and you are publicly cancelled for sins that aren’t even yours. You don’t know who your ex paid to beat him up before he went to the journalists that follow you everywhere and claim that you had finally snapped under the pressure; that you had beaten him bloody because you wanted his spot and you were angry that you’d fallen off the Hero lists. You know just from reading snippets of newspapers and magazines from other passengers on the train that he took every bit of abuse he ever dealt you and flipped it, pinning the title of Abuser on you. The media, always desperate for even a crumb of drama, ate the story up and published it country-wide.
Overnight, you have been demolished to a nobody, a nothing. Meanwhile, he will undoubtedly rise up through the ranks, a Hero to them in more ways than one.
When Dabi found you asleep in the alley, he knew who you were. He kept it short and simple, asking questions and listening to your answers with an unreadable face.
You the ex Hero with the telekinesis Quirk?
Yeah.
What’d he do to you?
So, you told him. If the Heroes wouldn’t listen to your story, maybe the Villains were the only shot you had. You left nothing out, and when you were finished, he smiled and asked you one last question.
D’you wanna get even?
Shigaraki didn’t seem as impressed. You had sat on the couch in front of him, with Dabi standing off to the side. Shigaraki gave you a critical once-over, pursed his lips and turned his glare to Dabi.
“Why should I believe someone who, only a couple days ago, was a Pro Hero?” He demanded- of you or Dabi, you’re still not sure. “What is this, Dabi? What were you thinking?”
Dabi had shaken his head and thrown you a smirk. “Show him what you can do.”
Silently, you’d glanced around the room, finding your target. Wordlessly, you lifted a hand and tossed it to the side, a careless gesture that brought a bookshelf, taller and wider than you, flying across the room and smashing to bits against the wall.
Shigaraki didn’t jump, didn’t react in the slightest except to flick his eyes at the pile of broken wood and then back to you.
“Dabi, let’s go upstairs,” he finally said. “Toga, Twice, stay with her and don’t let her leave.”
“No problem!” Toga had squealed, bouncing over to the couch to plop down next to you. “We can have some girl time!”
Upstairs, the two villains are in the middle of an argument. Shigaraki is so angry he’s shaking, scratching his neck irritably. “I can’t believe you would risk us like this. Having her here is dangerous- puts us all in danger.”
“Shig, I’m telling you right now- that girl has nothing. She has nobody. She is about as strong as they come, and she’s ready to choose a different side. Why shouldn’t it be ours? It didn’t work with the Bakugou kid, but this is different. She has potential, and she has nobody looking for her. This is a done deal.”
“And what happens if somebody comes looking for her?”
“Then we kill them,” Dabi says immediately. “She can be part of us now. She isn’t interested in being a Hero anymore.”
Shigaraki is silent for a time, weighing the pros and cons. Finally, he turns back to Dabi, who is sprawled across his friend's bed, smoking a cigarette as though he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“I want a full interrogation. I want to know everything from where she was born to what her favorite fucking color is, do you understand me? She’s your problem now. If your puppy shits in the house, I’m gonna rub your face in it.” He points to the door. “Go.”
Dabi smirks and gives him a lazy salute before pushing himself off the bed and swaggering for the door. He knows Shig is all talk. Worst comes to worst, you change your mind, he kills you. Shig won’t begrudge him for shit.
Downstairs, you are still on the couch with Toga. You glance up as Dabi descends the stairs, already tuning out her lively chatter to lock eyes with him, feeling your whole body tense up.
Dabi reaches the last step and pauses, taking a drag from his cigarette, his eyes still on you. Toga turns and beams.
“I love her, Dabi! I love y/n!” She squeals. “Can we keep her? I seriously need another girl here!”
Dabi exhales smoke through his nose and smirks at you before turning back to the bubbly blonde.
“That’s still to be determined, Toga.” His tone with her is gentler than you could’ve imagined coming from someone like him. He continues, without malice, “Y/n and I have to have a little chat, so fuck off for the night, okay?”
“Okayyyyy.” Toga heaves a sigh, then whirls back to face you and kisses your cheek.
“I hope you get to stay,” she whispers to you, and then bounces up on her toes and trips across the room to the stairs before you think of a response. Dabi places a gentle hand on her head as she passes him and gives her the briefest of smiles. “Goodnight!” She chirps, and then she is gone, and the room is silent.
Dabi turns back to you, his face unreadable, before a charming smile spreads over his lips. You don’t trust it.
“Join me,” he requests, sweeping one hand towards the bar. He doesn’t wait for you to answer as he walks behind the bar and begins inspecting bottles.
You stand, uncertain, and edge towards a stool as he keeps his back to you.
“Are you gonna kill me?” You finally ask. Your voice is trembling, and you internally curse yourself for sounding so weak.
Dabi pretends not to hear you, still holding up bottles and setting them back on the shelf. “What’s your drink?” He tosses over his shoulder.
You swallow hard. At least, if he is going to kill you, you can go out drunk. “Whiskey. Neat.”
He nods appreciatively. “A hero after my own heart,” he chuckles, but there’s an edge to his voice. Turning, he sets two glasses on the bar and pours a generous amount of the spirit in each glass before pushing one gently towards you.
“Drink,” he orders, and you obey. Whatever comes next, you’d rather not be sober for, anyway.
He watches you toss back the drink before setting the glass back down on the bar. “What a good girl,” he muses, barely loud enough for you to hear him. You catch the words anyway.
You jerk your head sharply up to look at him. Blue eyes burn back at you. Wordlessly, he pours you another.
“To answer your question,” he begins conversationally, as you take a sip of the second whiskey, “no, I’m not planning on killing you. Your Quirk is strong and it would be a damn shame and a fucking waste to let it go. The problem is…” he leans in over the bar, close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your cheek. “The problem is, we fucking hate Heroes. So if you’re going to be with us, we need to trust that you’re actually going to be with us. Otherwise, yeah.” He takes a sip of his drink, leaning back casually. “We would have to kill you.”
You swallow hard. “I‘ve already told you why-”
“I need to know everything,” he interrupts. “Shig’s orders. Can’t have us just bringing strays in and expecting them to be on board because we gave them a place to sleep, can we?”
Being called a stray ruffles your feathers, but you know he’s right. You sigh, finish the whiskey, and hand him the glass, indicating that you’d like another. “Ask what you need to ask.”
He takes you through your whole life history; your time at UA, the friends you grew up with, how you ended up marrying your husband, how and when exactly things went wrong, the sting of recounting it all substantially lessened since you are incredibly fucking drunk. He listens with a face that is mostly calm, blank, eyes occasionally flicking down to your mouth as you speak. When you stand to stretch, you catch his eyes roaming down your body.
The whiskey has not only made your tongue loose, but it’s made you cheeky. You see him staring and offer him a half smile.
“Did you fuck your husband a lot?” He asks abruptly.
You bite down on a gasp and feel the familiar flush spreading over your collarbone. “Excuse me?”
“Did you fuck your husband a lot?” He repeats, trying to fight back the smirk that’s creeping into his face.
“What does that have to do with anything?” You demand.
“It doesn’t, really. I was just curious.” He steps out from behind the bar, approaching you slowly, as though you’re a wounded animal. You watch him approach, any snide remarks you had to bite back with, dying in your throat as you take him in, drunk as you are. Sober, you wouldn’t have admitted he was beautiful.
Drunk you has no such qualms.
“I was just curious,” he continues, “because you were married for at least a few years, and you haven’t mentioned any babies. No kids. You don’t usually see that in a Pro-Hero marriage.”
He stops inches from you; if you were to look up at him right now, you would be tantalizingly close to his lips. You fight to remain steady, focusing instead on the worn patches of his long black coat.
“I was…trying to avoid that… with him,” you finally mutter, clenching and unclenching your fists as you think back to all the fights that followed the failed pregnancy tests, the birth control that you kept so carefully hidden away.
His voice is low, soft, like velvet. “Why?”
“I didn’t want him to create miniature versions of himself. They would have been monsters.”
Dabi’s hand drifts up between the two of you, catching your chin and raising your gaze up to meet his glowing eyes. “All heroes are monsters,” he breathes, and then he kisses you.
The strangled gasp that leaves your throat is embarrassing; he chuckles into your mouth as your hands reach up and touch his chest, his face, his shoulders, kissing him back with fervor. He kisses you languidly; you are the one fighting for him to kiss harder.
Some small part of you knows that in the morning, this will be humiliating- the way you threw yourself at a stranger- a Villain- while drunk on whiskey. But the past few days have been so hard, and it’s been a long time since anyone has even looked at you the way Dabi has been for the past hour. You can’t remember the last time you were kissed like this. Dabi’s lips are slow and smooth, brushing his tongue against your lower lip and then biting down gently. You let out a wanton moan that has you blushing again. He laughs.
“C’mon,” he mutters, pulling away and turning towards a door just off the side of the bar. You grip his hand and stumble after him.
Dabi leads you into a dark, sparsely decorated room; an unmade bed, dresser, and a bedside table holding a few packs of cigarettes are the only things you take in before he shuts the door and backs you into it, kissing you again, harder this time.
The only light in the room comes from the curtainless window; the room is lit orange from the streetlights outside. In the dark and shadow, the only thing that matters is Dabi’s lips as they explore your mouth, your neck and your collarbone as he keeps you held fast against the door. You are panting, your heart hammering in your chest so loud you’re convinced he will hear it. He allows your hands to run through his hair as he bites your neck, earning you a soft groan pressed against your throat.
“So you wouldn’t let your husband fuck a baby into you, but you’re willing to go to bed with a villain?” He chuckles, his hands hot as he runs them along your waist, reaching up to tweak at your nipples, hard through your shirt. You gasp at the contact.
“My husband would have ruined my children,” you gasp, despite yourself. Dabi shoves one leg between yours, grinding against your clothed cunt, making you moan.
“Mmm. Well,” Dabi seizes your hips and guides them along his thigh, forcing you to grind yourself against him, panting. “At least you’re not entirely a fucking idiot.”
Without warning he seizes your waist and lifts you; automatically, you wrap your legs around him and cling as he carries you to the bed. “Lay down,” he commands, and you slither from his arms to the mattress.
“So obedient.” For a split second he gazes down at you, spread across his mattress, before leaning down to peel your shirt off. You eagerly assist, yanking your pants down your legs and shaking them off your ankles so that you’re in nothing but your plain black panties. Dabi’s eyes glow as he crawls on top of you, ducking his head to kiss and nip at your exposed breasts while one hand glides up your thigh and shoves your panties to the side. You hiss as his fingers graze your cunt, parting the folds to find your clit.
“So wet already. And all I’ve done is kiss you,” he gloats, increasing the pressure slightly as he rubs slow circles against your clit. “What a good little girl.” So fast you’re not sure how it happens, your panties are ripped in half and on the floor. Sinking beside you on the mattress, Dabi tucks you under one arm while the free one pushes your thighs apart. His fingers graze your cunt, lazily, circling your clit once or twice before he thrusts a finger inside you. You jump at the unexpected contact and moan into his neck and he begins to finger fuck you, slowly at first, then harder, adding a second finger as he feels you relax.
You’re panting, unable to do anything but moan and whimper as he fingers you, whispering filth in your ear.
“Bet your piece of shit husband never did this for you. Bet he let this pretty little pussy go to waste, huh?”
Before you can answer, Dabi pulls his fingers out of your cunt and stuffs them into your mouth. “Suck,” he commands, and you oblige.
Quickly sitting up, Dabi pulls off his long coat, his white shirt and discards them on the floor before undoing his belt. Your eyes widen as he pulls his jeans down and his cock springs free. It’s huge, nearly twice the size of your husbands. You glance between his cock, which he is now pumping in front of you, to his face in obvious panic.
“Will it fit?” You whisper, both terrified and excited.
Dabi chuckles, eyes alight with amusement as he crawls back on top of you, his length dragging over your stomach and between your legs as he kisses you softly.
“So innocent,” he murmurs. “So…pure.” He rubs his cock against your cunt, coating it in your wetness as you take a shaky breath. He ducks down to kiss your hair, your cheek, your throat.
“Good little girl,” Dabi croons into your hair. He brushes his lips against the shell of your ear, making you shiver. “What are you doing here?”
You don’t have time to think up an answer before he slams his way into you. The unexpected fullness makes you cry out, arching your back up so that your body is pressed flush against his. Dabi groans, loudly, and begins to move, setting a punishing rhythm that you buckle under. Dropping into the mattress, you close your eyes and keen, loudly enough that he claps his hand over your mouth. When you open your eyes, he is staring at you, a strange, dangerous smile quirking the edges of his lips up. His bright blue eyes gleam at you, standing out in the darkness of the room. “Hush, baby. Just take it.”
You obey, mentally forcing yourself to stop thinking as he pounds into your cunt, allowing your body to accept and match the rhythm of his hips.
“F-aahh, fuck,” you babble, your voice muffled against his hand. Feigning concern, he takes his hand away, stops for a moment. “What was that?”
“f-UCKK,” You scream, as he slams his length into you, once, twice, three times. Each time, he pulls out long and slow, pauses, and rams into your cunt to the hilt. The hand that was covering your mouth moves to your throat and takes a vice-like grip there.
“What a good girl,” he moans, slowing his pounding to move more gently inside you. “So tight for me, so wet for me…”
“Nngh. Shit,” you half-moan, half-hiss as he slides his length inside you again. Dabi’s long fingers squeeze the sides of your throat softly, a threat and a promise all at once.
“F-feels good,” you whimper, as his hips begin to swivel slowly, his cock churning inside you in a circular motion. He’s deep, deeper than anyone’s ever been before. You didn’t know it could feel this good. There’s a tightening in your lower belly that you don’t recognize, and you look at Dabi with some alarm.
He grins at you triumphantly; he can feel it, too. Your walls are gradually tightening against his cock, hugging him as he fucks you.
“Aw, does the baby want to cum?” He cooes, careful to keep his pace, letting the pressure build. “Pretty baby wants to cum for me?”
“I-I-oh, fuck,” you whine, your small hands scrabbling against his arms, reaching for him desperately. “I- I haven’t...ever- ahh-hhh, fuck-”
Dabi’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before the shutters come down, hiding his surprise from you.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never cum before,” he mutters, barely remembering to keep moving inside you. Your only answer is to whimper, rocking your hips against his, intoxicated by the tightness in your belly.
“Look at me,” he growls, releasing your throat only to grab your chin, squishing your cheeks under his fingers, forcing your eyes to his. “You’ve never what?”
You’re panting, trying to clear the brain fog enough to answer him. His fingers tighten against your face, a warning, and you shake your head, trying to focus.
“Not...not with anyone,” you finally find the words. “Only alone.”
He stares at you, his face unreadable. Surely she’s lying. She’s grown. She’s in her 20’s. You gaze at each other, his glowing eyes flicking between both of yours, trying to discern the truth, but all he sees is the desperation and innocence in yours. He has to admit, though- the idea of being the first one to make you cum, to feel you explode around his cock, your first time, makes him even harder than he already was. It feels territorial, almost as if he’s marking you. His cock, still buried in your cunt, twitches in response to these thoughts, making you moan and grind your hips to his, begging.
“Please, please,” you mewl, grinding against him again.
“Oh, fuck.” He smiles. “This is gonna be fuckin’ fun.”
Dabi begins to fuck you in earnest, a hard, steady pounding into your cunt as he works for his reward. He groans again as you cry out, reaching for him, then leans forward and catches your arms, slamming them down and pinning you to the bed.
“Take it, baby. Take my cock like a good little bitch,” he rasps into your ear, and grazes his teeth against your neck. It’s almost too much; the pounding, the wetness of your cunt, the way he refuses to let you touch him as he fucks you, as though you are an object. The thought makes the pressure in your belly worse; I belong to him, I’m his property. You’re babbling now, almost hysterical with the loss of control and how good it feels to be used as a cocksleeve. Of their own accord, your legs spread wider underneath him, welcoming the fucking, shaking as they straighten out into the air.
“Yes, baby, yes,” Dabi groans into your ear, steadily fucking you towards your release. “Cum on my cock, baby. Let go for me.”
That does it- the coil in your belly snaps and unravels and you fall apart around him, shaking and crying out into his shoulder. You don’t know what you’re saying anymore. He doesn’t stop fucking you as you shatter around him, but slows a bit, letting your body adjust as you collapse underneath him, trembling, your cunt fluttering around his cock.
“Good girl,” he hums in your ear, his breath hot against your neck. “Such a good girl for me. Didn’t that feel good?”
“Yes, Dadd-Dabi,” you sigh, and he finally releases your arms and lets you curl them around his neck.
“You can call me Daddy,” he smirks, then pulls you up with him so that he is sitting up on the bed and you are sitting in his lap, still stretched over his cock. The movement jolts your still-sensitive cunt and you mewl at the adjustment, arms tightening around his neck.
“Daddy’s not done with you yet, baby,” he whispers. His hands fall to your hips and begin to nudge, guiding you back and forth against his cock. “Ah, good girl,” he whispers ferociously as he forces you to grind. “Move on Daddy’s cock like this for me.”
You obey, moving your hips on your own. He gasps and groans, dropping back to lay down, unfolding his legs and bracing them against the mattress as you ride him. His hands reach up to your breasts, pinching your nipples gently, and then harder as you moan for him. A smile ghosts his lips. “That’s a good little cunt,” he breathes. Encouraged, you move faster, feeling the tightening in your belly. Again? Can I?
Dabi feels you tightening again and pants, suddenly sitting up and pulling you off of him. You whine at the sudden emptiness, the loss of him filling you up. He pays no mind to your complaints.
“Get on all fours,” He orders, and you quickly comply. Taking hold of your hips, he slams into you from behind, and you scream in earnest this time.
Leaning forward, Dabi grabs a handful of your hair and tugs, forcing your head back to make eye contact with you.
“It’s my turn,” he says in a low, dangerous voice. You shiver. “I’m going to fuck you very, very hard. If you need to cum, you can cum. Daddy’s going to breed you now.”
For some reason, and much to your embarrassment, you feel your eyes filling with tears. Perhaps the overstimulation, perhaps the rush of hormones that flooded you after your first orgasm, but whatever the reason, you are suddenly crying. Dabi notices and reaches forward, wiping a tear away from your cheek. “Good little crybaby,” he mutters, and begins to pound you.
Oh, this is so good. You let your head fall back towards the ceiling as your eyes roll back in your skull, mouth open and drooling as Dabi slams into you from behind. You don’t even have the strength to moan, breathing raggedly as he curses and pants from his place in your cunt. One of his hands is still gripping your hair at the roots, and he tugs at you, bringing you slightly back to your senses, making you moan, loudly.
“Daddy, please,” you sob, pupils dilating as he reaches around to wrap his hand around your throat once more. “‘S too much… I can’t…”
“Shut up. Shut your mouth,” he snarls, curling his other hand around your hip to push you against him. “You’re a toy, nothing else.” The closer he gets to finishing, the harsher he is, you vaguely realize. Almost afraid of what would happen if you tried to stop him now, you shut your mouth and obey, whimpering softly as he continues his relentless pace. Despite your fear, the tightening in your belly increases, threatening to snap at any moment, and Dabi doesn’t miss it.
“You like when I tell you what to do, huh, cunt?” He growls, his fingers tightening against your throat. “Like being my little fucktoy, don’t you?”
You sob in response, half hoping he’ll take pity on you, half praying he doesn’t.
“That’s a good little bitch. Cum for Daddy, slut. Give it to me.”
You implode.
You’re vaguely aware of your scream, the way you writhe against him, and from some distance away hear him lose himself, too.
“Oh, fu-fuck, fuck I’m gonna- fuck,” he snarls, seizing your hips with both hands as he pours himself into you. You feel him shaking violently, panting, as he fucks you through his orgasm. Your cunt is overflowing, dripping as he continues to slide in and out of you. Finally, he slows to a stop, whimpering quietly, his breath hot against your spine. When he finally eases out of you, you collapse into the mattress, struggling to catch your breath, head spinning.
As you come down from your high, you realize that he is laying on his back beside you, lighting a cigarette. One hand is tucked behind his head, lazily, as he gazes at the ceiling. His azure eyes flick towards you, a smile ghosting over his face. He waits, saying nothing.
“That...that was…” You struggle to find words. Intoxicating? Terrifying? The beginning of an addiction?
He smiles absently, turning back to the ceiling, raising the cigarette to his lips. “Thanks for your service,” he says unironically, then sits up suddenly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, and reaches down for his clothes. You watch in dismay as he begins to dress.
“You’re leaving?”
“I have to talk to Shig. Figure out what we’re gonna do with you.” He stands and heads for the door, his cigarette dangling from his hand loosely.
“Do with me?” You inquire, the familiar feeling of being used creeping up your throat like vomit. He ignores the alarm in your voice and reaches for the doorknob. You swallow hard, give it one last shot.
“Dabi?”
He finally turns to look at you and you see it; the shutters have come down. There is no sign of the former Dabi, the one who held you and praised you only minutes ago, anywhere on his face. His eyes are cold, his face remote.
“You can sleep here tonight,” he says, gesturing around his room. “Tomorrow we’ll talk.”
You don’t bother to answer. There’s no point.
Dabi slips out the door, shutting it behind him. You curl up on your side, covering yourself with one of the threadbare blankets, ignoring the sting of tears in your eyes, the burn of the lump in your throat. At least it’s a place to stay for the night. Maybe tomorrow, they’ll do you a favor and just kill you.
Outside the room, Dabi steps away from the door and faces the bar. Shigaraki is sitting on one of the rounded bar stools, nursing a glass of something that smells strong. Kurogiri polishes an empty glass, glancing at Dabi, wisely keeping his mouth shut.
Dabi swaggers over and throws himself down on a stool a few feet away. The look Shigaraki gives him makes him smirk.
“Damn, Shig. What’s that face for?”
“Dabi, I told you to interrogate her, not fuck her.”
Dabi shrugs, unbothered. “You know what whiskey does to me. Anyway, I got her to talk.”
Shigaraki looks unimpressed. “And?”
“And I got what you needed.” Dabi fills Shig in on the talk you two had less than an hour ago at the bar.
“But do we know what her convictions are? Do we know she won’t go crawling back to her Hero husband after running away for a couple days? How do we know she’s serious?” Shig demands.
Dabi considers this, then shrugs. “I don’t think we can get a guarantee.”
“Goddamn it.” Shig finishes the drink in one large gulp and smacks the glass down against the bar, so hard that it cracks. Kurogiri sighs and reaches for the waste basket underneath the bar.
“We’re gonna have to kill her.”
“I don’t think so, Shig. She’s got a strong Quirk, and nowhere to go. We aren’t there yet.”
“She could run away- tell the Heroes where we are!”
“So we won’t let her leave,” Dabi argues. “I’ll tie her up if I have to.” She’d probably like that, a voice whispers in the back of his head, and his cock twitches in his pants. Fuck.
Shig is quiet for a minute, scratching his neck absentmindedly. “I’ll give you three days,” he finally says. “If she gets away, or tells anyone where we are, I’ll Decay you both myself.”
“Yes, sir,” Dabi drawls nonchalantly, wandering behind the bar to pour himself a drink. Shigaraki glares at him.
“That means you’re in the room with her tonight.”
“Aw, Shig, come on- you know I don’t sleep with them...after I sleep with them.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your stupid rule. Consider this a slumber party until you figure out what we’re gonna do about her.” Shigaraki stands and stomps up to his room. “And I’ll know if you’re sleeping on the couch!” His voice echoes down the stairwell before his door slams.
Dabi sighs and downs his drink in one gulp. Looks like he’s in for a weird few days. He sets his glass down on the bar, nods to Kurogiri, and heads back to his room. Inside, you are sleeping soundly in the middle of his goddamn bed, leaving no room for anyone but yourself. He leans against the door and watches you for a time. Your eyes are still puffy from crying, tears staining your cheeks. In your sleep, your foot twitches against the mattress.
Dabi slides down until he’s sitting on the floor, and leans his head back. The window is locked and also squeaky as shit from years of disuse. There’s no way you’ll be able to climb out of it without waking him, and no way you’ll be able to get out the bedroom door if he sleeps leaning against it. Whether or not either of you like it, you’re stuck with each other, at least for the night. He closes his eyes and gives in to sleep, trying not to think about the alarm he felt when Shigaraki said he would have to kill you. He doesn’t ask himself why it scared him; he doesn’t want to know.
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1.
The Roud Folk Song Index lists it as the 39th Child Ballad. Comparisons to be made to Type 425 in the Aarne-Thompson-Uther Index, under the entry “The Search for the Lost Husband.” TvTropes.com has more to say on the page titled “Shapeshifting Lover.” A story iterated upon in many forms. A young woman, almost always a woman, sometimes virginal, is wedded, or falls in love with, or is taken away by a man under some sort of curse. He is horse. Or a lindworm. Or a wolf. Sometimes only at night. Sometimes only when the fairies who cursed him make him so. He is a Beast, she must undo whatever evil makes him so, normally through a kiss, true love, wedding him, or, in some of the less sanitized versions, simply sex.
1.
The first time they hooked up he cried afterwords, which she didn’t understand at the time. They were sophomores in college. It wasn’t her first time. It should have been casual. It was up until he cried in the morning. She felt so bad that she suggested they get breakfast together, when she had simply meant to leave.
At breakfast he calmed, he talked about his life. Quiet, nerdy, hiding in his hoodie. There was something vulnerable there, and she liked it. She gave him her number after.
2.
Later thinkers and writers have revisited this trope. Sometimes it is played straight, depicted on the screen by Disney. Sometimes this is (falsely I would argue) called Stockholm Syndrome. Sometimes this is, it must be said, simply used for purposes of sex and titillation. I think, however, that the continued persistence of this motif in media, it’s emotional resonance, demands further explication of its longevity. What about this appeals to us in the modern day, when we (ideally) can no longer ascribe to it a moral of young women being forced to accept arranged marriages?
2.
They’re a few months into their time dating, after long arguments about that label, when the crying returns. This time no longer after sex, but she feels the emotion is the same. You should leave me, he says. Break up. You should do it now before I hurt you, he says.
And she, not wanting to point out that she is bigger and stronger than he is, gently asks why he says something like that? In there time together he has been nothing if not careful. Thoughtful. Kind. One of the most soft and charming people she knows. He cannot explain it in any satisfying way. He simply insists that there is something dark inside him. Something he has sought to deny far too long, and will not be able to deny forever. That if she stays she will be hurt, simply as a function of loving him. He will one day lose the fight against himself.
She does not know what to do but hold him.
3.
I think some of the appeal of this trope can be found in reference to another motif of our pop cultural mythos. That of the werewolf.
We are used to seeing werewolves depicted from the viewpoint of the hunted. But there is perpetually the question of what such a transformation looks like from the viewpoint of the animal itself. A human transforming into a beast demands of a human audience that we consider what it must be like to monster. To be capable of hurting those we love. And yet, I at least wonder, if we are capable of hurting those loved ones, do we not still hope that they will love us as we transform? As we become different, monstrous in shape and utterly unknown even to them?
3.
They graduate. Together. Move into an apartment above a Taiwanese restaurant. She gets a shitty job that has health insurance for them both. He does commission from home. It’s not perfect. There is some part of him he never shares and she does her best to make peace with that. To accept that wherever his mind goes when he is watching her put on a dress, do her make up, whatever he ponders while watching the women passing by the street outside, or after they have sex, that is something he has chosen not to share.
But instead they share popcorn. And bills. And shitty inside jokes. And that time they got accidentally drunk at his mothers remarriage to Craig (fucking Craig amiright?) and got found by the staff of the hotel whose ballroom she had rented, having passed out near the punch bowl.
It’s a life. It’s their life. She tries to give him space within it.
4.
Consider again the Ballad of Tam Lin. The idea of Janet in the woods, holding onto her lover as wicked fairies transform him. To something ice cold. To something burning hot. To a horrible slimed thing writhing in her embrace. To a snarling wolf-monster, a beast of wicked claws and gnashing teeth.
Who has, at one time or another, when circumstances reveal that which we keep hidden, felt like that?
4.
She gets home unexpectedly early one spring afternoon in her late twenties. Janet from accounting somehow set fire to a microwave, which set off the sprinklers, and no one could get anything done that day. A small treat, and it validates her admittedly flash-judgment of Janet.
And as she unlocks the door, flowers in hand, she finds him in front of the closet they share, and understands the secret that has been kept from her for almost a decade.
5.
And then of course, the tales and legends end. Normally in the curse being lifted, the lover being returned to normal. Beast is a beast no more, the Lindworm is again a prince, Tam Lin may leave the woods a man. A simple ending to a simple story.
But for us living in reality? Outside of the tidy constraints of fiction? Perhaps there is no ending. Perhaps we remain a beast, remain a wolf, remain cursed, and monstrous and strange. Perhaps we endlessly transform into new, and more twisted shapes, and have only hope that our loves will hold us nonetheless. That even if we become something that may hurt them, something they may not understand, they will still love us.
5.
It is hard. It would be nice to say there are not challenges. She always thought she was bi, but the label of straight was easy, and she never had to examine it when she was with him. She keeps on stealing her dresses.
There are good times too. Times where she looks at this woman still becoming, someone she had loved for a decade and still barely knows, and sees how brightly she smiles, and feels so proud.
But it is above all else hard. The crying does not go away. Estrogen works wonders, but cannot stop dysphoria, and hurt, and pain. It is hard to love her. But she is trying. And when the fights over labels and new boundaries and shifting emotions break out, or the dread comes, or the weeping, she does what she can.
She holds her partner, no matter the form she takes.
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Hey Muffin! Ive had an idea for a while. Some CassxDonna goodness request ig, i dont fucking know how to request shit
I also have like this vison in my head of Donna working on a doll or some other commission. Like super stressed out cuz its not going just how she wants it*Perfectionist Donna ofc* And rambunctious Angie is being chased by Cassie, tryin to have her steer clear of Donna when she is working you know? But somehow Angie gets in and ofc breaks something *that Donna had just finished* Angie just giggles and runs out will Cass is like 0_0. Leaving Cass with a very very angry and rather pent up Donna who has been working countless hours, no sleep, and ofc that means no hot sex with her lover. SO how would Donna react to this? Lets say Cass has on one of the dresses donna hand made for her, maybe one of Donna's favorites.
I'd love to see ur HC's on this
-Flyin Rizz
This is interesting!👀 and would you look at that! Some Cassandra x Donna content! XD (No smut in this but some suggestive phrases here and there)
Let’s get into it!🙌
Masterlists
It’s not uncommon for Donna to get very invested in her work. She crafts things on a daily basis, whether this is dolls, clothing, accessories, or toys
Everyone at the beneviento manor knows of her tendency to get really into her work, abandoning her regular sleeping schedule, most mealtimes and just about anything outside of her work until her piece of finished
In this case, a doll. A beautiful one, dressed in a light blue summer dress, according to the blueprints and sketches the dollmaker has messily drawn
Agatha, if Cassandra remembers correctly, a future play-partner for keeping Angie entertained
She, like all the dolls residing at Donna’s manor, is very much aware of how meticulous Donna works
And how badly she wants this doll in particular to be perfect
She brings her food and tea occasionally when she worries her lover gets too into her work, her posture straightening when Donna, even in her focused state, scolds her for the blood coating her and daring to slip down and mess the beautiful dress she is put in
While wearing her signature black dress at the castle and on hunts, her attire is quite different when visiting her girlfriend at her manor
The dress is to be discarded and replaced nearly immediately whenever she visits, instead replaced with one of the many Donna likes to craft for her
Whether light pink, lilac, yellow, red or white, they all share an older, more elegant aesthetic, so that Cassandra often feels as if dressed similarly, if not nearly the same way as most of the dolls sitting tight and proper for Donna
Not that this is entirely inaccurate in her case, in most scenarios
While Cassandra has learned not to disturb her girlfriend in such times, lest she wants to face dire consequences, Angie’s mindset is a little different
Fuelled by her excitement and anticipation of getting a new friend to play with, and her boredom stemming from Donna’s lack of attention during the many hours of the day she sits locked in the workshop, she likes to stir trouble
Trouble, which often consists of multiple things
1), to steal one of Cassandra’s weapons and force her to chase her about. Once or twice she has fallen for it and followed the mischievous doll outside, only to receive proper punishment after getting her dress muddy in the process
2), making a mess of the house and playing god while she watches other dolls clean it up again. She especially enjoys putting some of the blame on the Dimitrescu and watching her clean her mess off the counters, a sour grimace on her face
And lastly, a good old chase around the house, which usually, sadly, comes with many broken decorative plates, vases, flowerpots, paintings off the walls, and carpets curling in on themselves
Normally, Donna is capable of handling this. And normally, Cassandra couldn’t care less
However, with her girlfriend on edge after more than a week of intense working and perfecting her craft, restlessness and no true stress reliever, she knows it’s best not to test her
Naturally, Angie thinks differently
And as such Cassandra finds herself chasing after the little doll, frantically trying to keep the vases from tipping over and the paintings from falling from the walls
She chases her through the kitchen and dodges the many, tiny handfuls of flour thrown her way, yet when she reaches out to grab Angie, the doll only blows some of the flour in her face
And as such their chase continues
Down the halls, through the office where Cassandra throws herself against a wobbling shelf to keep it from falling
She knows, she would pay bitterly if Donna had to reorganise and put all the books and files back in
Yet, golden eyes widen when Angie nears the workshop. With a mischievous smile nonetheless
She slips through the small gap at the office, and Cassandra has no choice but to follow, swarming fast through the small tunnel and manifesting again at the other side. She barely still catches Angie’s veil as she rounds the corner
More and more, she catches up with each second
Then, she freezes when both of them stop dead in their tracks in front of the large, wooden doors leading into the workshop
“Angie!”, she hisses quietly, her hands fisting at the embarrassingly sweet dress she is put in
She doesn’t quite notice the state it’s in after her swarming through the dirty gap at the office, yet is soon about to find out about it
With wide, horrified eyes, she watches the door open just a crack for Angie to slip inside
Naturally, she follows
Her posture automatically straightens when she sees Donna across the room, her back turned to her and her fingers working meticulously on what seems to be the sketch of a dress
Cassandra gulps and hurries to the other side of the room when she sees Angie stand next to one of the dolls sitting on the shelf
It hasn’t get been brought to life, yet Cassandra knows it took her lover days to craft and paint it
As expected, it’s given a small push, and the brunette throws herself forwards to catch it. She sighs, her eyes closing for a mere moment when she manages to grasp the precious doll just before it hit the floor
Then, she flinches at the sound of broken porcelain. The torso, one of the few parts of the doll Donna has- after days- finished
Before she can act or even consider her next moves, the mischievous doll slips away behind the other dolls and Cassandra feels strong, thick vines shoot out from the plant pots next to her and tangle around her wrists, seemingly automatically
She hisses when her lower face is grabbed, then gasps upon realising her girlfriend stands in front of her, her free hand twitching in anger, her dark eye set on Cassandra
“I didn’t do it! It was A-AgnmMm!”
She can only whine and whimper pitifully when a slip of paper, the one containing scribblings of the dress, is crumpled and shoved in her mouth to gag her
Wide, dark golden eyes look up at a dark, nearly black one, as though begging for forgiveness. As though to protest: she didn’t do it!
Yet, there is one found. Donna is painfully riled up, and this seems to have simply pushed her over the edge
Cassandra’s shriek is muffled as dark, auburn hair is grabbed and used to yank her head to face Donna. She watches when the broken torso is raised to her face and whines in discomfort when its sharp edge is dragged alongside her cheek
For a moment, the dollmaker doesn’t talk. Her dark eye bores into Cassandra, her face sporting an angry frown
She whimpers when blood begins to drip from the cut and runs down her pale cheek. Before it can drip to the dirtied collar of her dress, however, it is caught with a fingertip
“Have you got any idea how long it took to craft this, doll?”
Her head spins at the low, raspy voice of her lover
All she can do is shake her head. With Angie gone and having left her in this compromising position, and the paper in her mouth keeping her shut up efficiently, she can only listen and whimper occasionally
Donna’s jaw clenches, and Cassandra jumps in surprise when the porcelain is dropped again
The vines around her wrists ease their hold, yet the one on her hair only tightens. She groans lowly when a skilled, pale hand wraps around her throat and strong, careful fingers dig into her neck
Perhaps, she shouldn’t be enjoying this so much. Yet, she can’t help it
She can’t help but melt into the touch, to push herself against the hand around her throat and to look through thick eyelashes to meet Donna’s dark eye with her golden ones
Then, she shrieks when the fingers suddenly yank her hair, tugging and yanking as though it was a leash making her follow like an obedient mutt
Naturally, Cassandra immediately attempts to protest and talk about the small doll when she is tugged along, across to the workbench and pushed hard against it
Of course, Donna has nothing of it
“You’re a brat today, doll... If you will not admit to your guilt, you will not talk at all”, she hisses
Her hair is released, and her eyes still follow every move of her lover’s skilled hands. Petite as they may look, she knows of the strength they possess, and the power they wield
Cassandra’s eyes widen in realisation when she finds her lover taking in her appearance
Her dress, so lovingly created, filthy of blood from her hunt and the dirt from the gap. Her face, partly covered in a fine layer of flour and blood, only adds to her messy state
She gulps when Donna’s hands grasp her collar tightly as it is cleaned. She is manoeuvred rather roughly, until some of the dirt is brushed off again at least
Her wrists are grabbed next, tightly and in a nearly bruising grip. Cassandra, was it not for the paper in her mouth, would grin widely at this
Ah, she loves the beautiful marks her lover leaves on her on a regular basis
“You’re filthy, doll”, Donna hisses, her low voice pulling Cassandra from her thoughts. “Must you always make a damn mess!”, she adds through gritted teeth
The Dimitrescu resists the urge to moan when her arms are tied by ribbons and yanked upwards
She is not treated sweetly or gently, and her body betrays her excitement regarding this
She knows, Donna too notices her rock hard nipples and quivering thighs
And she knows, having spent so much time among the plants at the manor, that her girlfriend is very well aware of the naughty thoughts and feelings she causes her to experience
Alas, it seems the dollmaker doesn’t yet grant her any of this special, painful kind of pleasure. Cassandra could whine in irritation at this
She watches her girlfriend move the tied hands to the hooks meant to hold and lift dolls, then gulps when a hand is held in front of her stretched mouth
Her arms are tied securely and held above her head, and with her legs spread slightly to allow her to sit comfortably with Donna’s body between her knees, she has almost difficulty adjusting to feeling this exposed
Not that it’s new, really
The underside of her chin is tapped impatiently, before Donna holds out her palm again
“Out with it. But I better not hear a thing from you, doll. You’ll start earning your right to talk back by helping me.”, she clarifies
Submitting to the obvious command, Cassandra’s lips spread apart wider and she allows the wet, crumpled paper to fall back out of her mouth
She stays silent, as commanded. She truly tries to
For a mere moment, that is, until she spots the mischievous doll that seems to take immense pleasure from getting her in trouble
“There! It’s he-MGM! Mhmm!”, Cassandra’s eyes are wide when a hand is clasped over her mouth, golden orbs flickering to Angie’s mocking face on the shelf behind Donna
Another hand shoots to her throat, and all she can do is whimper breathlessly when warm breath hits her skin and soft lips move across her jawline
“Did I not say, not. a. word?”, she hisses, each word delivered with a squeeze of Cassandra’s throat
The woman moans shamelessly at this, her eyes pressing shut and her thighs pushing together
With a proper squeeze of her neck, she whines. She feels lightheaded for a mere moment
Then, she whimpers when her lover leans in, her lips and teeth ghosting over her neck, all the way up to her ear
“What was that, doll? Must I put you in your place again?”
She shakes her head quickly, as though overly aware of the beautiful, carefully placed mark of the beneviento symbol carved into her back
The mere feel and thought of it has her attempt to subtly rub her thighs together
She wonders; if only she acts out enough, will Donna renew it for her?
“That’s what I thought, principessa”, the older woman husks out, and again she feels as though her head is spinning from her words
She shivers when the dress is peeled off her, Donna’s hands careful and precise in their movements
“If you’re so keen on sabotaging my work and setting me back-“, Cassandra attempts to protest at this, blame the doll, but at another squeeze of her throat, all her words die on her tongue and only a throaty groan slips out
Donna’s expression turns almost sour at her repeated misbehavior, before she closes her eye for a moment
Upon opening it again, she smiles
“You will be of good use to me, doll”, she whispers
Cassandra tries her best to stay quiet as the woman moves from her, golden eyes following her strong, veiny hands and slender fingers as they shimmer over her workspace
Scattered on the table are scissors, ribbons, wood and porcelain dolls, knives and sewing needles, and much more Cassandra can’t quite catch a glimpse of
She tenses when she hears a breathy chuckle from Donna. The woman’s back is turned to her as she organises her desk, yet Cassandra hears the smile in her voice as she talks lowly
“Seeing as you are so keen on setting me back, you will make up for the lost progress”
For a moment, she doesn’t understand
How can she make up for it? Cassandra doesn’t know how to sew, or craft dolls. Nor is she about to learn it
When Donna holds up her sketches however, realisation dawns on her
She practically sees the gears moving in her girlfriend’s head, her mind coming up with a punishment fit for “her” crime
She knows, her girlfriend is already calculating the amount of fabric and time she will need to craft the light blue dress in Cassandra’s size, rather than the doll Agatha’s
Yet, when her lips part to protest and blame Angie yet again, she feels a hand slap over her mouth again
She jumps at this, not ever used to her girlfriend simply turning and moving in the span of seconds
Donna hums as she regards the tied and bratty woman in front of her
“Whatever will I do to you?”, she hums, a smirk curling on her lips that makes the brunette Dimitrescu’s thighs push together and has goosebumps overtake her pale skin
“Hey! Fly face! Here!”
Cassandra groans, a bright pink blush on her face as she pours some more tea into the doll’s cup
Really, she wouldn’t do such a thing, participate in such a tea party with the doll, if it wasn’t for the tight collar hugging throat and Donna’s watchful eye on her
Both serve as a reminder to do well, she knows
The dress she’s put in is tight, yet elegant and fits her well
She’s careful not to dirty it with every move, and can’t help but bite her lip to hide a grin whenever she is praised for just that
Longingly, she stares at the doll, Agatha, laying unfinished on her girlfriend’s table
How much longer will she need to endure such humiliation of being Angie’s “doll” friend? Dressed up sweetly and made to serve tea and biscuits to the doll and Donna herself, all for something she didn’t commit in the first place!
Yet, the doll, Agatha, is hardly finished. Not even nearly done, even
It seems, Donna is taking her sweet time finishing her
#cassandra dimitrescu#cassandra dimitrescu x donna beneviento#donna beneviento#flyin anon#I’m sorry this one sucks-#I’ll blame it on sleep deprivation I think#omg imma sleep
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Lovers & Friends (18+ Fic)
Pairing: Keigo Takami x Black!Fem!Reader (Friends to Lovers)
Synopsis: In which you and Keigo have begun to realize the strange new feelings you both have for each other after one drunken night at a close friend’s wedding that ends with you in his bed, but because of your longtime friendship and committed relationships with other people, you’re more than happy to forget that night even happened and keep your mutual feelings in the dark…for now, at least.
Story Warnings: Smutty smut; 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY); Cheating/Infidelity; Mating; Light Degradation; Spanking; Exhibitionism; Multiple Positions; Creampie; Unprotected PIV Sex; Facial; Scent Play; Marking; Spitting; Deepthroating; Cunnilingus; Begging; Edgeplay; Power Play; Wing-Stroking; Daddy Kink; Some Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Mild Violence
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!
Writer's Note: Got 2 new chapters for y'all!! Yes, my baby daddy Dabi makes an appearance. And I'm planning on writing some spooky shit for Halloween soon so stay tuned. I fucking THRIVE in the fall. And has anyone been watching the new live-action One Piece?? That shit is GOOD. I can't wait till I get to see my baby Chopper, Robin & ACE. When we get Law, I apologize for the horiness. -Jazz
Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Bonus Chapter.
Read on AO3 here!
***********
Chapter Nine: Caught Up.
Keigo closes his laptop and leans back into the chair behind his desk, feet up and wishing for this day to be over already.
“Thank God,” he sighs to the ceiling, glad to finally be out of that meeting he swore was longer than an hour. He had met with the Musutafu police department chief, the city commission, and the Hero’s Public Safety Commission aka the HPSC aka a pain in his ass regarding putting more of Hawks’ agency heroes out on patrols during the day.
While Keigo knew the meeting was important, he was fading in and out of sleep during the entire thing. Which led to his third iced coffee of the day. He knows his stomach will hate him later, but it works to keep him awake for the next few hours until the day is through.
After checking his watch and realizing lunch is in an hour, he gets up from his desk with his Starbucks cup full of iced coffee and walks over to his kitchenette settled in the corner. He walks straight over to the Keurig coffee machine and takes a sugar packet from the silver holder next to the row of glass mugs, coffee pods, and a bowl of packaged snacks specifically set for him and any other guest he has in his office.
Though he doesn’t seem like it, Keigo is very selfish when it comes to his office and who he lets in it. Like his penthouse, he considers his office to be another sanctuary for him when he isn’t doing hero work or any work that comes with being the CEO of his own agency. He’s had this agency since he was eighteen, so it has changed in many ways–from the inclusion of different heroes, regardless of size, gender, or quirk, to the interior design of his office.
Keigo’s high-rise office used to be a bit smaller than it is now, but after racking in more money with his agency and brand deals, it has grown in size. It can now house about fifteen people instead of one, coming with a kitchenette with stainless steel appliances, his own private bathroom and shower, furniture for nap time, and a flat-screen and window overlooking the city behind his mahogany desk and walls of awards and framed photos of close friends.
When he is here, he is at peace, finally able to be Keigo and not Hawks for once. Any guest he allows in here must also respect his space, which most of them do. You were one of them. Though you work at the same agency as Rumi, you’d always come in here during your lunch breaks to eat up all his snacks and drink up the saki he kept in his fridge. Because he loved you, he’d always let you, and then you’d gossip about which pro is fucking which and watch movies until you fell asleep until it was time to go back to work.
He always looked forward to those times…and now they’re over. Keigo lowers his coffee onto the marbled counter and leans against it, tilting his head up to the ceiling. He knows he’s being dramatic, but he may as well be right. At this rate, you and he will never be the same again.
It’s been two weeks since he made the biggest mistake of his entire life at that hotel. Since then, you and he haven’t spoken. And it’s fucking killing him! He and you talk almost every single day, even if it’s about nothing at all, so to go two weeks without hearing your sweet voice is like two years. It takes everything in him to not shoot you a text or call you to say hi, knowing you don’t want to speak to him right now.
And plus, he can’t be sure he’d even know what to say to you. He’s wracked his brain for days and for so many sleepless nights trying to figure out what to say when he finally sees you…if he finally sees you. He doesn’t even know if he could look you in your eyes after knowing what they look like when you cum…among other things.
Images of you that he shouldn’t be conscious of swim in his head now. You and that night are on his mind, day in and day out. He daydreams of your body at every hour of the day–at work; in the car; while patrolling, cooking, or exercising at the gym. All he sees is your soft naked skin and braids splayed out on the pillows, your legs thrown over his shoulders and your sweet moans in his ear.
It gets much worse at night. When he closes his eyes, he sees you above him, your gorgeous tits and dark nipples jiggling in his face as your perfect little pussy squeezes around his cock. He can almost smell your perfume in his sheets, feel the warmth of your body in his bed throughout the night. You haunt him constantly, filling his mind with the sights of your soft lips wrapped around his hard dick and your beautiful thighs wrapped around his waist as he drills into you.
It’s gotten so bad that he’s been avoiding sex with Sakura, making up stories that he’s been sick or working late hours at the office. He hates what he’s become and he hates that you’re the reason for it.
And then there’s the nesting part. Keigo has tried in vain to block that part out of his memory, but the fact that his stupid hawk hybrid instincts see you as his mate still firmly stands. It’s even worse that hawks mate for life. This means that if you were to ever end up with him, Keigo is locking you the fuck down. You’d be his forever.
The question he has though is how the hawk half of his brain came to this conclusion. Was it the sex? Was that night just validation of how he already felt about you? Has he always thought of you as his mate? His best friend?
“Fuck,” he growls lowly, running his hands through his blonde locks before dragging them down his face. How did this all manage to go so wrong?
A sudden knock at his office door stops him from wallowing in his guilt for too long. “Mr. Hawks said he isn’t seeing anyone right now!” Tokoyami, one of Keigo’s summer interns from UA, protests from outside the door. “You need to come back later!”
“Relax, Tokoyami!” Toyu, his assistant for the summer (also from UA), laughs. “I just need to drop these off.” Another knock comes and Keigo sighs. “Come in,” he calls, leaning against the counter.
The door opens, revealing Toyu in her floating blazer and skirt, and a very nervous Tokoyami. “I-I tried to stop her, sir,” he stutters.
Keigo waves him off, giving him a reassuring smile. “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Takami!” Toyu chirps as she floats (or walks?) into the room, a binder in her invisible hand. Keigo sighs as he picks up his iced coffee and meets them across the room. “Hawks, Toyu,” he tiredly corrects her for the fifth time since she started at the agency in May. “Call me Hawks.”
“Sorry, Mr. Hawks!” Toyu corrects herself, earning an eye roll from Keigo and a snicker from Dark Shadow. Tokyoyami shushes him. “But I have the rundown on everything for the next week if you wanna take a peek.”
Keigo looks at the color-coded binder, the urge to stomp his foot and throw a tantrum growing inside of him. ‘It’s always something.’ Can’t he have just one week without doing anything at all? “Oh, thanks,” he says, giving both of the UA students a grateful smile. “Go to lunch early today. Come back whenever you wish. If anyone gives you shit, tell ‘em to call me.”
Toyu excitedly thanks him before shooing a wide-eyed Tokoyami out of the room. Now that he is alone again, Keigo slouches down into his wheeled chair behind his mahogany desk and flips through the binder to next week. He sips his coffee, reading each event set for next week, Monday through Friday (minus the weekends but the weekends are rarely free for Keigo). Day patrol; lunch-in with All Might and his agency team; a visit to the Musutafu police department…
“Shit, another meeting?” he quietly laments when he gets to next Wednesday. This time with Nike for a photoshoot. Then he has to meet with the HPSC next Friday to talk about taking precautions for new villains. Keigo tosses the binder onto his desk, huffing.
He knows he won’t be able to focus on any of this, his mind too hung up on you. “Fuck,” he exhaustively groans, leaning his head back against his chair.
“Well, sounds like you’re havin’ fun this week,” a familiar, raspy voice sarcastically says from behind him. Keigo’s body tenses and his wings instantly go rigid, his feathers sharpening to points. Immediately, he stands from his chair and turns around to look for the threat.
However, it isn’t a threat at all. As soon as Keigo finds those cool-blue eyes staring at him from the darkest corner of the room where the noon sun doesn’t touch, he knows exactly who is in his office.
Keigo squints at him, instantly relaxing. “Da fuck?” he scoffs. “Dabi?”
The man of the hour steps out from the shadows like he has rebranded himself as a villain. He could definitely pull it off since he still has the same burn scars and staples that stand out against his pale skin like tattoos and those cold eyes that could make even the most seasoned pro shiver in their boots. The only two differences are the gray sweats that all Musutafu prisoners are allowed and the snow-white hair that he’s rocking in contrast to the stark, black locks he had while he was in LOV.
Dabi steps into the light, one hand shoved into his dangerously low sweats while the other is holding a plastic bag. “What’s poppin’, b?” he rasps, smirking at his longtime friend.
Keigo gapes at him, overwhelmed with confusion and happiness to see him. “What the hell…how did you…how’d you get in here?” he stutters out.
Dabi waltzes over to the couch near the balcony, pretending like he was invited here. “Nice to see you too, friend,” he sarcastically replies. “You left your balcony door unlocked.”
Keigo looks at the balcony doors and swears. He knew he forgot to do something after coming back from morning patrols. “How are you even here?” he demands, staring at Dabi like he’s some kind of supernatural being that just appeared in his office. “Aren’t you on lockdown ‘cause of that riot?”
Dabi leans back against the couch, legs cocked open and arms slung over the back. “Relax, bird brain,” he chuckles. “The warden did some investigating and found out I had nothing to do with that riot, so I got my perks back: twenty-minute calls, one hour on the facility laptops every day if I choose, and one day of freedom every two weeks for my good behavior.”
He kicks a foot up on the coffee table, careful to not ruin the glass surface with his sneaker. “And what better way to spend my free time than comin’ to the rescue for my very depressed and dejected friend according to Cotton Tail’s call?”
He grins at Keigo and Keigo notices that this one reaches his eyes. It isn’t cold, crazy, or sadistic the way it used to be while he was in LOV–it’s a genuinely happy smile. He has no idea what they’re doing to Dabi in prison, but whatever it is, it’s working. He’s so happy to see his friend after weeks of separation that he nearly misses his words. “Rumi called you here?” he asks, confused. “Why?”
Dabi gives him a look as if it should be obvious. “You’re bein’ a bitch, Rumi says.” Keigo scowls at him, even more confused. “She called me last week and didn’t say much, but she says you’ve been actin’ way off lately and begged me to talk to you. I can see why.” Dabi eyes him up and down, sizing him up.
Keigo flushes in his designer clothes and crosses his arms over his chest, trying to hide himself from his friend’s scrutinizing gaze. He thought that he was doing a good job pretending in front of people, but obviously, he’s been caught. He should’ve known Rumi would’ve seen right through his grumpiness and blowing off club hopping with her for the past two weeks.
“You ain’t the only one,” Dabi continues. “Apparently, Y/N’s been actin’ up too and you guys aren’t talking. What, you guys fight or somethin’?” He gives Keigo a confused scowl, not liking the idea of his friends fighting.
Keigo knows he’s been caught. However, he is more alarmed at the fact that you’re not doing any better than him. Are you okay? Are you losing sleep and avoiding all human interaction like he is too? Are you just as frustrated over him as he is over you? The urge to call or visit you rises, making him want to jet right out of this office and come to you.
Dabi stares at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. Quickly, Keigo comes up with a lie. He already promised you he’d never tell anyone and the last thing he wants to do is break a promise he made to you, especially since the truth could destroy your entire friend group. “Look, I’m sorry,” he sighs, sitting on the edge of his desk, “but I’m just frustrated with work right now and–”
“Bullshit,” Dabi growls, his eyes sharp. “We’ve been friends since high school, Kei. You can’t fool me; now spill.” He suddenly reaches into the plastic bag he bought and retrieves a case of beer. “Look, I got beer,” he cheerfully states, a wide grin on his face.
Keigo blinks at him as he puts the bottle cap to his mouth and chips it off the beer with his teeth like it’s no problem. “At one in the afternoon?” he snickers. Dabi glares at him. “Hey, it’s five o’clock somewhere and I can’t get this shit in prison, so do you want one or not?” He holds a bottle out to Keigo, raising an eyebrow.
Though Keigo knows he shouldn’t be drinking on the job, he takes one from Dabi’s anyway. A shiver runs through him as he wraps his hand around the ice-cold bottle. He quickly presses it against the edge of his desk and slams down onto the nozzle, causing the bottle cap to fly off. As soon as he takes a sip of the beer, strong, refreshing, and chilled to the bone, he feels relaxed. Relaxed enough to tell Dabi the truth about his sins.
“Okay, you can’t tell anyone about this, understand?” he sternly says. “Y/N will murder me.” Dabi draws an X over his chest, nodding.
Keigo takes a deep breath, his heart pounding and feathers frazzled with anxiety. He cannot believe he’s doing this. “After Fatgum’s wedding, Y/N was feeling low over breaking up with Tempo, so I decided to take her to a club. Things got chaotic, we had a couple of drinks and–”
“You had sex?” Dabi finishes. Keigo harshly bites down on his bottom lip and nods, feeling like a firecracker about to explode.
Surprisingly, Dabi doesn’t look disgusted or even the least bit upset. If anything, he looks like he isn’t even shocked. “Jeez, Keigo, it took you this long?” he scoffs. “How long have you been wanting to get in this girl’s pants?”
“That’s not the point, Dabi!” Keigo growls, wanting to chuck his beer at the ex-villain. “I just cheated on Sakura and possibly ruined my friendship with Y/N! And that ain’t even the worst part.” He runs a hand through his locks, mentally preparing himself to confess the worst of that night: “I nested,” he quietly laments.
A tense silence descends on them as Dabi blankly stares at him for a moment. “You mean, like…for a mate?” he carefully asks.
Keigo nods slowly, ashamed before he watches as Dabi spits out his beer, coughing with guffaws and a high-pitched laugh that doesn’t sound anything like his regular, deep, raspy voice.
Keigo growls at him, irked. “It’s not funny!” he snaps. “Cut it out, you crispy bitch, before I toss your ass off my balcony!”
Dabi tosses his head back, hollering at the ceiling. “That’s the funniest shit I ever heard!” he says through his hysterical laughter. Keigo flushes bright red with humiliation, just as red as his wings. “Wait, so, Y/N is your mate?” Dabi finally asks as he wipes away tears.
Keigo flinches slightly at that term coming from someone else’s lips: mate. The idea of you–his best friend, his partner in crime–being his mate is something he just can’t believe. “Not officially, but obviously, my body and stupid animal instincts think so. And no, I’ve never done nested for Sakura or any other person I’ve dated. Y/N is the only one.”
He sighs, lowering his beer down onto his desk. “I guess sleeping with her that night was what my body needed to validate that,” he admits. Dabi hums in agreement, kicking another foot up onto the coffee table. “Guess it was that good,” he mutters.
“It was that good,” Keigo confesses in anguish. “That’s the problem. I can’t even look at her the same way.”
He covers his face in shame, but all he sees behind them is you and your gorgeous, naked body. “Jesus, Dabs, what the fuck am I gonna do?” he sobs. Dabi chugs down his beer, barely even looking concerned despite his two friends having sex. “Well,” he starts, “and this just came to me…you could always talk to the girl instead of actin’ like none of this happened and you don’t want to break her back again.”
Keigo stares at him, dumbfounded. Does he understand the dilemma here? “I can’t!” he protests. “If I do, she’ll never look at me the same way again. It’ll ruin our friendship even more.” He feels a pang of something in his chest at the idea of never seeing you again. Despite his love for you, he could never toss away your friendship. You mean too much to him.
Dabi quietly belches and tosses his beer can perfectly in the trash can behind Keigo’s couch. He then stretches his muscled arms high over his head, grunting as he does so like he doesn’t have a single care in the world. “Well, you do what you want,” he sighs, "but just know this will fuck up the crew’s dynamic anyway now that we all know you slung a dick in our mutual friend.” He smirks at a bristling Keigo as leans back into the couch.
“This was not the advice I wanted, dickhead,” Keigo deadpans. Dabi cocks his head at him, raising a brow. “Fuck I look like?” he asks, deadass. “A psychiatrist?” Keigo considers kicking his ass out before something begins to methodically beep from somewhere on Dabi. The white-haired man looks down at his ankle and pulls up his pants leg to reveal the red light flashing on it.
Dabi tsks, looking irked at his ankle monitor. “Gotta go,” he sighs, rising from his seat. “My appointment is about to start before I have to head back to the facility.” He heads over to Keigo and claps him on the shoulder before walking over to the open balcony door.
“Appointment?” Keigo repeats, confused. “For what?” Dabi stands in the sunlight, his hair illuminated by the sun’s rays, making him look almost ethereal. “Sex therapy,” he replies. “Says it does wonders for stress. You should try it.” Before Keigo can reply, his friends is jumping over the balcony and climbing down the building from there like a madman.
Keigo rushes over to the balcony and watches as his friend finishes climbing down the rest of the building before getting into the backseat of a slick, black car that can only be paid by the Musutafu prison. Before the car takes off, Dabi rolls down the window and gives Keigo the finger, the sound of his laughter intertwined with the summer wind as the car pulls away from the agency.
Keigo shakes his head at him. While Dabi was never good with advice, he definitely knows how to make you forget about your problems for once with some laughter. “Prick,” he chuckles and shuts the balcony doors before getting back to reality.
#friends to lovers#keigo takami x black reader#hawks x black reader#feral hawks is the only hawks#black fanfic writer#smutty smut#bnha smut#my fic shit#black coded reader#keigo takami#my works#hawks smut
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God complex (Albert Wesker x reader)
Request: May I request headcanons for Albert Wesker if he had a s/o who was a doctor or a psychiatrist. Thanks!
Warning: mental disorder (God complex)
Disclaimer: English isn't my native language (I'm french), so you can correct me if you spot somes mistakes :)
***
When you started to study psychology, humans and social sciences, you were curious about people's minds, how some illnesses could appear and how you could treat them.
When you met Albert, he had already developed his God Complex and after several weeks of being around him, you finally figured him out. This man was definitely not normal. That's what made you want to get closer to him to understand why and how. Your curiosity, again! And yet, you knew it was wrong because your profession strictly forbade you to diagnose people who didn't want to be diagnosed if they didn't consent (or if they weren't a murderer, for example).
Surprisingly, you were the first to initiate a date with Wesker. You pretended wanting to have a coffee somewhere other than the labs and he came with you, after telling him you had to talk about the behavior of some of the employees. This wasn’t true, but he agreed.
As the weeks went by and you tried to find out more about him, you grew closer and closer to the point you developed a strong attraction to him.
One night, while you were at home, after having sex, he discovered the notebook you kept about him. In a fit of rage, when you came out of your bathroom, wearing only a towel, he slammed you against the wall, his hand on your throat.
"Who do you think you are to invade my privacy?! Do you think I'm completely crazy?!"
"No, you're intriguing. But right now, you're a lot less so. Killing me won't do any good to you. It won't help you feel better about your life."
He growled, furious. His red snake eyes glowed in the darkness of your room.
"Who told you I was bad, mmh?"
"I don't know, maybe the fact that you're about to strangle me!"
Without a warning, he released you, retrieved his clothes and left your room.
For a week he ignored you and refused to talk to you, just as you refused to see him. After eight days, he came back to you, on the occasion of a celebration. Of course, he didn't apologize, because Albert Wesker never apologize, but he made it clear he understood that he acted like an asshole.
In the following weeks you slept together many times and unfortunately for Albert and his ego, he became attached to you. So much that he asked you to be his girlfriend, to make sure you wouldn't go to anyone else. He wanted exclusivity over you because he’s a possessive man.
Over the months, in a quiet relationship, he ends up opening up to you, talking about his horrible childhood, his life choices, why and how. You eventually realized that no one could help Albert, as he had been shaped in one way for so long. He would remain manipulative, lying, possessive, toxic, determined to shape the world in his image. The trap of your passion for psychology was slowly closing on you, because as long as Albert wanted you, you wouldn’t escape him. Never.
Finally, Wesker would manipulate you into believing that he was gradually healing because of you... To better keep you with him.
***
Hey, readers! I hope you liked it! Also, I created a ko-fi account with small commissions at $1, $2 and $8 to support me and my work or tip me here since I'm broke😊💜
My Ko-fi: carolinemertz
My AO3: BetrayedWriter
My Instagram: carolinemertz_
#resident evil#resident evil imagine#resident evil one shot#albert wesker#albert wesker x reader#albert wesker x you#albert wesker x oc#albert wesker imagine#albert wesker fanfic#resident evil headcanons#albert wesker headcanons
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Prized Heifer part 2
Series Pairings: Remy x Reader, Wren x Reader, Remy x Wren
Series content: Farmer!Reader, amab!Bull!Remy, amab!Bull!Wren, random extra characters, role reversal, hybrids are treated like animals, breeding (functional and kink), Wren fucks a cow!girl, voyeurism, vaginal sex (extra cow!girl receiving), anal sex (reader receiving), noncon turned dubcon, blood as lube
The next day wasn't much better. Without the competency of your foreman to keep the other idiots in line, they were relying on you to hold their hand for every little thing. That included checking on how willing your bull was to finally do his job.
"Has he eaten yet?" you asked the lanky assistant as he slid the large barn door open.
The other cattle were already out in the field, enjoying the grass and mindlessly munching away the day while your prized bull was busy being locked away; wasting another perfect day to make sure your cows had calves to sell.
"H-he did. Ate everything and all that."
He paused.
"But?" you asked incredulously, just knowing there was more he hadn't stated yet. If it was simply that he was awake and eating and back to acting as your good breeder, even they wouldn't need you.
"But, uhh, he's th-thrashing about and we c-can't manage him."
"Yeah," you rolled your eyes, "aphrodisiacs do that. His dick isn't the only place getting blood right now so he's probably itching to finally get out of there and fuck a cow."
You stepped onto the hay lining the hard floors of the barn and listened as the straws weakly cracked beneath your boots. From deep within the barn, where the small pens were, you could hear metal clanging and deep, angry mooing.
It was music to your ears.
The same stout man who had retrieved you yesterday was standing a good distance away from the cage door with a tranquilizer gun pointed at your bull. The assistant's hands were trembling so obviously that you doubted he would ever be able to hit Remy even from point-blank range. As it was, he flinched each time Remy rammed himself into the steady cage door to try and break through it, despite the tight metal collar around his neck – only loose enough to allow him to swallow food – that served as an extra precaution in case he somehow did manage to break the door for an escape attempt.
"Stop before you hurt yourself," you sneered. "If I have to put you out of commission for the entire breeding season, I'm going to be pissed. And if I'm pissed, this cage is going to be the least of your concerns."
As soon as you spoke, Remy's eyes grew wide again and his efforts to break the door through sheer force seemed to double as he snarled at your approach. He reached his arm through the gaps in the pen bars and swiped at you.
In his desperation to reach you – probably to throttle your throat as payback for putting three darts in him yesterday – he managed to press his body flush against the bars; the perfect position to admire and evaluate the exact nature of your prized specimen.
Through the gaps and holes in the metal bars, you could see how he towered over you and your trembling assistants; a sight that made them take precaution but left you unimpressed. You still remembered when he was a weak little calf sucking at his mother's teat and nibbling at the apples you'd sneak him when your parents weren't watching and that meant you didn't give a shit about how tall he was now after all these years. Hell, he was probably only so well off because of you. It was because of your care, physical regimen, and the high-quality diet you fed him that his muscles were well defined; the kind of muscles that people took one look at and knew they wanted a calf with his genes – the same genes he'd gotten from his father.
The pale brown fur that was carefully groomed grew short atop his head and in slightly curly rivets down to the middle of his back where it faded naturally. In the sunlight seeping in through the barn windows, it matched the shade of creamed coffee. His eyes were a disgusting green that reminded you of sludge growing at the top of water, but people seemed to like them so you weren't complaining.
His hands were strong and broad as they began to shake the metal bars. His powerful hooves ground into dirt to try and find leverage to push him forward as if he could somehow force himself to squeeze through the bars of the cage door. His tail swayed limply, yet aggressively behind him as his flat ears twitched and his nostrils flared. All the while, his horns made this incessant scraping sound as they brushed and battered against the metal.
But, more than any of that – more than the annoyances of caring for him or his superior quality – you were glad to see that the cock that hung heavy between his legs finally seemed to be doing what it was supposed to. It stood proudly through the metal bars while, just below, his full balls swung in time with his frantic thrusting and clawing. No doubt the extra stimulant you'd ordered to be put in his food this morning had done its job.
Now he should have been eager to do his as well.
With a smirk creeping across your face, you wrapped your hand around the girth of his erection only to find it was so thick that your fingers couldn't touch. The cows would like that.
He rattled the cage again as he mooed. It was the same sound he made when he was happily climbing on top of one of the cows and sinking his cock into her wet cunt. That was a good sign.
"Are you ready to be a good bull for me, Remy?" You gave his cock a firm squeeze, watching as beads of white started to dribble out of slit at its head. "You'll fuck lots and lots of cows, won't you? Or else I may have to turn you into a steer." The last word out of your mouth was filled with a venom he couldn't miss.
That didn't seem to perturb him one bit though as he began humping your hand instead.
His cock was hot in your grip as you watched the way he used a part of you like it was a replacement for a real cow. The cum leaking from his tip only served to make everything more wet and sticky as the need to mate seemed to replace all other thoughts in his head.
Just as you began to feel him twitching in your hand, you pulled away.
The denial of an orgasm only appeared to agitate him further as he bucked in your direction and grinded against the air through the bars.
"After the shit you pulled, you sure as fuck aren't wasting your semen like that. If you want to cum, you'll do it inside a cow." You got uncomfortably close to the bars, staring up at him with furrowed brows and a snarl as you grabbed his balls and crushed them in your grip. "Got that?"
He didn't moo. Instead, he returned your snarl with one of his own just before you felt something warm splash against your lower stomach, just over your clothing.
When you looked down you saw a trail of white staining your outfit, seeping into your shirt.
Blood rushed to your face and heated it to the point you thought it would burn off.
"You- You-" No insults came to mind for your rebellious bull through your cloud of anger, but a slew of punishments did.
You turned on your heels, glaring at your assistants as a silent warning not to say anything about what they'd just seen.
They got the message.
"Whatever you gave him this morning? Double it for his next meal and then leave him isolated in that pen all night where he can smell but can't reach a single cow. Don't even let him grind against anything," you said as you began to storm off. "The next time he ejaculates, it better be inside something. Do you understand?"
Both of your assistants nodded as they followed after you.
"And give that one cow in heat to one of the other bull's that will actually bother to breed her before she loses her chance to have a calf for another month. Maybe Wren. I don't care. Just make sure he can hear what it sounds like when a good bull actually does their fucking job."
All that mattered to you at the moment was making a point and rubbing it in Remy's smug, beast face.
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celebrating valentine’s day hcs ; vincent (18+)
requested by ; anonymous (23/02/23)
fandom(s) ; five nights at freddy’s
fandom masterlist(s) ; here
character(s) ; vincent / fanon purple guy / old fnaf purple guy
outline ; “I hope this isn’t too weird of a request but, I see you know FNAF fandom!
I’m am sure you probably know who Vincent is? Like the FNAF fandom’s purple guy? They have him his own personality and appearance and everything!
I was wondering if you knew of Vincent (which I guess you can cal him William afton since we now know that’s his name) and if so can I request headcanons of him and cis female reader for Valentine’s Day with a little bit of spicy at the end? It and be headcanon or whatever you want, really! I just don’t see many people writing for him nowadays.
(Also sorry people keep spamming you with same requests, it’s been happening with other writers here lately and I feel your pain 🥲)”
warning(s) ; a bit of spicy content — rated smutty as it references sex acts
note ; as vincent is his own distinct character to william i have separated them in my masterlist and this piece is focussing on vincent specifically
note 2 ; yes this is massively late and out of season, but hush!
valentine’s day started later in the day for the two of you — with vincent not getting home until well after 8am (working until 6 and then doing god knows what until 8)
you slept in until midday, slowly waking up in stages between 12 and 1 — alternating between muttering nonsense and doing lazy, half-asleep sexual stuff (sex, oral, etc.)
then once the two of you had come to terms with being awake — you first, vincent doesn’t wake easy — you resigned yourselves with getting up and went about your routine
brushing your teeth, having a quick shower (and shower sex followed by another actual shower because vincent can’t help himself), getting dressed in fresh pyjamas and going downstairs to make breakfast
you had the usual staples (all sorts of toast, pancakes, waffles, fruit and so on) — which you took care of as your boyfriend is a terrible cook — and you exchanged your cards whilst you ate
snorting over the terrible jokes vincent wrote in his, rolling your eyes at his endless innuendos and raising an eyebrow at the small smear of blood on the envelope — to which he shrugged dismissively, mentioning something about having to get it after his shift and a paper cut
he insisted on reading your card out loud, using dramatic gestures and silly voices to mock you as you hushed him — before he finished, took another sip of his hot coffee, pecked you on the lip and thanked you
then he washed up and you fetched the presents, which you opened in the living room with the news on in the background (at vincent’s suggestion, for some reason)
you tire open layer after layer of wrapping paper and cut upon wonky cardboard boxes until each of you got to your presents
for you, vincent got you a bottle of your favourite perfume, a bouquet of paper flowers and a small bear with embroidery related to an inside joke (it wasn’t a commission he just stumbled across it — he does not have the money for that)
and vincent, in return, received the new jacket he’d been eyeing up for months and a handmade collection of ‘vouchers’ for various things he enjoys in the bedroom (no expiration date, of course)
the two of you so caught up in your gifts and the celebration that you didn’t catch the way his smile widened when a report of a new missing child came up on the tv — nor did you hear the report itself
and as he’d taken the day off for once, the two of you got to spend the better part of the afternoon and evening together — spending it as couples do
cooking together (read: him pestering you and getting in the way whilst you cooked)
dancing clumsily when your favourite song came on the radio
making out and going further on every surface you could until you were too exhausted to continue
not stopping until both of you were overstimulated and groggy and then you finally drifted off to sleep
until you’d had each other every way you could manage (anal, oral, vaginal, boob jobs, thigh jobs/thigh riding, fingering, hand jobs, etc. etc.)
until all you could do is pant and whimper and gasp
until you were both content with a holiday well spent
#sleepingdeath#female reader#fnaf x reader#fnaf vincent x reader#minors dni#minors fuck off#fnaf smut#smut hcs#smut#fnaf vincent smut
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Heya guys! Here’s a reference sheet of my TMNT 2003 OC Kammie! Which i commissioned from @escapism2k3! Once again thank you very much! 😊
(Edited and added new info 2/3/2024: and also Kammie would be 18 in FF not 19)
Name: Kammie (Pun on Kame (Turtle in Japanese))
Nickname: Kam
Sex/Gender: Female
Pronouns: She/Her
Race: Mutant Green Sea Turtle
Age: 16-19 (She's 1 year older than the 4 boys)
Sexuality: Hetero
Year Hatched: 1987
Mutation Year: 1989
Eye Color: Brown
Height: 5'0" (Seasons 1-5) 5'2" (FF/BTTS/Turtles Forever)
Weight: N/A
Mask/Headband/Bandana Color: Coral/Salmon
Boyfriend/Love Interest of: Michelangelo
Personality: Shy/Introverted, Friendly/Kind, Polite, Socially Awkward and Selfless
Back Story/Info: She was hatched and raised at New York Aquarium in Coney Island, Brooklyn, NYC! She was mutated about 1 year later after the ninja turtles by another one of the Utroms' T.C.R.I's canister of mutagen that fell onto the beach (around the time she was being released into ocean) when she was 2 years old! Which turns her into humanoid mutant turtle! 15 years later she's then seen by a photographer (who was taking photos of the ocean/beach) by accident on Coney Island beach and he then takes a quick panicked blurry photo of Kammie and sends it to the local news which the boys see on tv and it catches their attention so they go investigate and they decide bring her home to the lair!
Before Kammie met the turtles she lived underneath Coney Island Beach's boardwalk and slept there during day and hung out on the beach or searched for food/junk at night when no human would be out or awake! She ate left over food the humans left on the beach or she caught fish or seafood in the ocean! She used to swim/play in the ocean for fun!
The reason she only comes out at night is because when one day when she was a kid she was playing in the ocean during the day, she then saw some kids playing in the sand and asked them if she could join and play with them but the kids got scared and screamed and ran away from Kammie which made her sad and disappointed.
SAINW: Before the events of the episode Kammie gets killed. Since they don't tell us how Mikey loses his arm I thought for my story the reason he loses it because he tries to protect Kammie but failed.
Other Notable Stuff: The boys teach her basic fighting/ninja skills! She later become a decent ninja (but she doesn't have a weapon yet still thinking of what to give her) Kammie also dresses up as a female Turtle Titan as Miss Titan with Mikey and fight crime together! She loves manga and comics! She used to find manga and comics in the trash before meeting the turtles!
Also check out other versions of Kammie:
Rise Kammie
#Kammie#Miss Titan#Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles#TMNT#TMNT 2003#TMNT 2K3#TMNT Fast Forward#TMNT FF#OC#TMNT 2003 OC#TMNT 2K3 OC#Escapism2k3#KnuxtheFanGirl#Knuxamyloverfan#ILoveBeinATurtle#Turtle#Sea Turtle#Commission#Reference Sheet#TMNT OC
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