#GOD what the FUCK are they laced with crack or something

[tonycries]

Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) - C.K.

Synopsis. When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.

Pairings. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, babysitter! Choso, male masturbation, voyeurism (from reader), Choso with nipple piercings and eyeliner hngh, unprotected, 69, choking, overstim, oral (male + female receiving), creampie, dirty talk, friends-to-lovers, Choso is down BAD and always has been, mentioned younger brother, swearing. 

Word count. 9.0k

A/N. Gojo longfic next time because I miss my pretty blue-eyed princess.

Your younger brother’s new babysitter was hot.

With a capital h. 

Scarily hot, in fact, that it made you wonder why the hell people stopped having babysitters past the age of 14.

Ah, Choso Kamo, the ever-elusive eldest son of the Itadori’s from next door. You still remember the first time you met him - well, mostly. 

The world was rocking gently at exactly 12:34AM after a night out with your old high school friends. And so were you, stumbling tipsily into your driveway, soaking up the warm summer air. 

Fumbling with the doorbell, you fully expected your parents to still be away on that extravagant couples’ cruise they’d won - one that probably cost more than your tuition.

Which also meant you expected the old lady from down the street to be babysitting tonight. Still wide awake and absolutely bursting at the seams to give you a detailed rundown about the neighborhood tea - who’s divorcing who, and her top suspects for who stole her prized garden gnome. 

What you certainly did not expect was for that door to swing open and to find yourself face-to-face with the most ridiculously attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Shirtless.

Dazed, your eyes involuntarily sweep his figure from head to toe - taking in every inch of those dark, sleep-mussed locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner, all the way down to the chiseled- oh god, were those nipple piercings?

Alas, the universe isn’t on your side, and you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly the door slams right in your face, almost rattling off its hinges at the force. The sound echoes in your ears as you blink in disbelief at what the fuck that was. Was that real - was he real? 

You double check the address you’ve known for years - just in case - because, hell, if you were dreaming then this was a damn good one. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on something that won’t make your head spin before reaching for the door again.

But before your finger could even graze the doorbell, it cracks open once more. The same mysterious man towered before you, this time - you note, with a tinge of disappointment - wearing a snug t-shirt that still doesn’t do much to hide that godly physique. 

“Not that m’complaining, but who’re you and why’re ya in my house?” you manage to slur out, voice betraying the shiver that runs down your spine at his intense gaze. He simply leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and expression unreadable. 

“Choso,” he drawls lightly, eyes never leaving your face. Shit, even his voice was hot. 

You nod slowly, mind racing as you blearily try to remember just where you’d heard that name before. Some family friend? Nah, you’d know him if that was the case. An actor? God, he sure had the looks. 

Mercifully sensing your struggle, he clears his throat, snapping you out of your drunken reverie. “Not surprised you haven’t seen me around, sweetheart, but my parents live next door.” he offers, tone laced with amusement and something else you can’t place. “M’babysitting your brother for tonight.”

You almost don’t hear the second part of his explanation, because it hits you like a ton of bricks - oh shit, this was Choso? Choso either-a-hallucination-or-a-vampire Kamo? 

In all your years of having the Itadoris as your neighbors, you’d only seen fleeting glimpses of their eldest son - a flash of black hair at the window, or a sculpted, tattooed arm waving off Yuji at the doorway. And, well, you didn’t know what exactly you’d anticipated. You just didn’t expect him to be so…hot. Or stand half-naked in front of you.

God, he made you more dizzy than the alcohol. 

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. Yet Choso still hears, quirking an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Everything alright there?” he hums, the hint of a tease in his tone. Smug bastard.

You nod your head, clutching onto the doorframe for support as you lean in closer. “Mhm, perfect.” Wait- was that a blush dusting his face? Damn, this dream just keeps getting better and better.

Liquid courage coursing through you, you bat your lashes, too tipsy to even attempt a wink, “Well, Choso, let me know if ya need any help babysitting, jus’ know I’m always down to-” 

And then - perhaps to save you from the embarrassment of an awful pickup line - that’s when the universe decides to remind you of exactly how many kamikaze shots you’ve downed. The world lurches beneath you. Your hands scramble for something - anything - solid.

Ah, falling down really does feel good, especially when the ground is so warm, and soft. Smelling faintly of vanilla, with a hint of sunshine. 

And then it’s all black. 

To match his eyes.

---

The smell of vanilla still lingers in your mind as you slowly pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight streaming in through your window. Groaning, you feel as though you’ve been run over by a truck. Five of them, in fact. 

Trying to will away the pounding headache, you bury yourself deeper into the snug covers of…your bed…that you’ve been tucked into? 

Oh shit. Sitting up with a gasp, you hastily try to rub away the sleep from your pointedly makeup-less eyes, remnants of last night now flooding back to you with a surge of embarrassment. 

Choso. Shirtless. Babysitting. Shirtless. But most importantly - your awful display of drunken flirting. The man appears once in a blue moon and you hit on him? Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

And just as you’re entertaining the idea of convincing your parents to move neighborhoods, you realize with a jolt that he must’ve been the one that carried you up here and took care of you. Even after all of that. 

With a sigh, you rub your temples, wincing as it throbs at the laughter carrying from downstairs - one of them so decidedly Choso. Deep voice ringing in your ears, you can almost feel the lingering traces of his strong arms holding you flush against his chest, or the warm hands gently wiping off your eye shadow.

And it seems Choso had a penchant for interrupting your barely-lucid thoughts, because the door creaks open, ripping through the heavy silence in your room. Heart in your throat, you startle as Choso carefully steps into your room, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“G’morning,” he says, voice so gentle that some small, strange part of you thinks you could listen to it forever. “Feeling any better?”

You offer him a sheepish grin, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory of your drunken antics. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for... well, everything.”

Chuckling softly, his gaze softens as he steps closer, taking in your slightly-disheveled appearance. “It was the least I could do, sweetheart. Now, c’mon, your brother and I are making pancakes.” 

You fidget nervously under his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious even as he turns to leave the room at your silence. Say it, you idiot. Say it. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to... y’know, act like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time-” 

“It’s al-”

 “I swear I’ve seen ankles-”

A large hand cradling your cheek, his thick rings searingly cold against your chin as he tilts your chin up to meet his warm gaze - and those suspiciously red cheeks. “S’alright, sweetheart. I didn’t mind.” 

And, well, if this was his way of shutting you up then by God was it effective. Because you didn’t trust yourself to speak even as Choso gives you an easy smile. Even as he withdraws his hand, the air thick with something you were too hungover to overthink about. 

Not until he turns back to the door, flashing you a teasing smile, “Besides, it was kinda cute.”

And with that, Choso steps through the door with the audacity of someone that hadn’t uttered words that sent your mind reeling. 

As the creak of the door echoes behind him, Choso’s warm touch still sears into your skin. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Only one thought rings clear in your hazy, still-hungover mind - one that makes your cheeks flare: this was going to be a very interesting summer.

You just didn’t realize how interesting it would be. Not until two weeks, four days, and sixteen hours after you first met Choso. 

It starts out innocently enough, taking the early shift at your internship, volunteering to help with the chores - you find yourself subconsciously making excuses to be around him whenever he’s scheduled to babysit.

You’ve probably learned everything there is to know about the man by now - from the way he likes his eggs (sunny side up) to that time he accidentally dyed his brother’s hair neon pink while trying out a recipe for homemade hair dye. 

Likewise, Choso happens to be the only one who knows that you were the one that accidentally caused that flood in your dorm that required five floors and two plumbers to resolve. 

At this point, Choso’s at your house more often than not - where Choso is, there is you, and where you are, there is Choso. And your brother…and sometimes Yuji, but semantics.

“Semantics” are probably why you find yourself rushing home straight from your internship, ignoring every invitation for an after-work drink - to see your brother, of course. No other reason - definitely not because of the way Choso will inevitably be there too. Or because of the way his smile makes something strange coil in your stomach. Or-

Okay, maybe you speedwalked up your driveway faster than usual a little bit because of Choso. But as you’ve said - semantics.

Yet, sometimes you even think there’s a familiar flicker of something more in those dark eyes.

…

Nahhh. 

Stepping into the yard, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the deafening sounds of splashing, a smile tugs at your lips at the awfully wholesome view that greets you.

Your brother and Yuji are locked in a fierce battle, water guns being brandished like the most seasoned warriors.

And Choso - towering over everyone else - was at the epicenter of the chaos, his laughter booming over the commotion. Shirtless. Again. 

His bare, tattooed torso gleams in the light, muscles flexing with each movement as if sculpted by the gods themselves. Droplets of water glistening on his dark hair like diamonds in the fading light.

Traitorously, your cheeks burn as you step closer, desperately trying to rip your gaze from the milky abs peeking out and the tantalizing glint of metal winking so sinfully at you under the sun.

So he does have nipple piercings.

God, you have to get your mind out of the gutter.

As you approach, Choso’s grin widens, a playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he scoops up a large water balloon and takes aim, launching it with frightening accuracy in your direction.

The icy water hits you before the realization, and you squeal in surprise as the balloon connects right with your chest, seeping into your shirt. Glancing down with a startled laugh, you realize a moment too late that your once-pristine white shirt is now completely see-through. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but the damage has been done. Smug bastard, you think, glancing up at Choso, slightly red-faced yet wearing a sly grin as he surveys the aftermath of his well-aimed shot.

“Shoulda just told me if you wanted a peak, you lecher. This shirt was expensive, y’know.” you call out, mock-glaring at the man that stood so infuriatingly beautifully in front of you.

Choso throws his head back in a laugh that makes something tingle all the way down from your toes to your burning cheeks. “Maybe you shoulda just kept your guard up, sweetheart,” 

You scoff, “Maybe you should stop being a distraction then.”

His grin widens, reaching for another nearby water balloon, “S’not my fault you’re so easily distracted. No need to be a sore loser.”

“Oh, it’s on now.”

“Well, well, looks like we have a new contender in the water war,” Choso remarks mischievously to the kids, gesturing towards you. Yeah, really smug bastard.

Ah, what the hell. This shirt was on sale anyway.

---

Now, Choso knows you’re hot - always has.

Ever since that first day he moved in next door, when he stumbled upon you sunbathing in your backyard wearing that sinful bikini. And, well, after hours of moving boxes upon boxes of Yuji’s dumbbells, the mere sight of you was like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him. 

But, especially now - all drenched and disheveled. Your shirt sticking to your curves like a second skin in all the ways that should be illegal - and also makes some strange part of him slightly jealous. Beaming smile directed right at him - shit, this might as well just be the final nail on his coffin. Death by you.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, you're a force to be reckoned with. Choso can barely tear his eyes off of you, breathless and victorious in pure adrenaline-fueled bravado, declaring “Beg for mercy and I’ll let you off easy, Choso.”

“Kinky, but absolutely not, sweetheart.”

Clutching a particularly large water balloon, raising your hand high high high - hurtling it straight at him with an unapologetic smirk, “Then, better run for your life.”

Oh? Maybe Choso was a masochi- what was that- 

A flash of his favorite lacy pink, your poor buttons faltering at the sheer force of your throw. Choso doesn’t even feel the cold splash! square on his chest as he’s drenched icily from head to toe. Too transfixed.

Too focused on trying not to make it obvious he’s mentally calculating the chances of your shirt coming off altogether…

Eyes locked on the sliver of soft skin peeking out at him. Only registering you and the traitorous rush of heat flooding his cheeks - and his cock - as he averts his gaze, internally smacking himself for letting his thoughts wander into such dangerous territory. 

Both thanking and cursing the gods above, Choso realizes with a pang that he’s not just screwed, he’s absolutely twisted, tangled, and tied up in knots.

So utterly screwed, in fact, that he probably needs to make a quick run to the bathroom now.

Like, right now.

Shit. 

With a muttered excuse of a bathroom break, each step more urgent than the last, Choso can’t help but wonder if the water balloon incident was some sort of cosmic punishment for his wandering thoughts. Some divine intervention from his ancestors for being such a pussy around you all these years.

And as he slams that bathroom door closed, bunches his pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, and takes his throbbing cock in his hands, Choso thinks he might just see the gates of heaven - well, at least he’ll be able to give his ancestors a piece of his mind there.

With a groan, he leans against the closed door, eyes scrunching shut as he takes his swollen cock in his fist. Leaking hot precum and glistening in the dim bathroom light. He grips the base tightly, pulsing and achingly hard for you. 

Cold rings searing against his skin, Choso wastes no time - wanting to get this over with and join you again more than anything - starting up a hasty, desperate pace up and down his length that makes his knees buckle. Tighter on the base, just teasing his furiously flushed tip. Pink. Pink to match your bra.

With you so sinfully soaked through, wearing that goddamn lacy bra out there, Choso wasn’t as strong a man to possibly get you out of his mind. He can’t help but imagine your sultry smile, how it would look wrapped around his cock. 

Arm straining now, a shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his throbbing erection. “Shit.” he breathes, “J-jus’ like that, sweetheart.” 

Head only filled with you, and your lips and you-

He milks his base tighter - would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you choke around his cock? 

One hand pulls in urgent, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into his fist. The other reaches up muffle the fucked out moans leaving his swollen lips. God, it would take everything it had in him to not fuck up into your pretty lil’ mouth. Watch you cock-drunk and taking him so well. 

Or maybe…

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso fights back a groan as he reaches a hand up to teasingly thumb under his slit. Delicate beads of precum dripping onto the cold tile with a deafening drip! drip! drip! Smearing at the way he rubs maddening little circles under that one spot, grazing his sensitive veins. 

Maybe you’d be a a fucking tease - run your tongue under his pulsing head so agonizingly slow. Knowing you, you’d probably pull away as soon as he bucks his hips into your mouth. Lips swollen and glossed prettily with his precum as you whisper, “Now now, baby. If you don’t act like a good boy then you won’t get to cum~”

“Sh-shit, hah-” Choso thinks he’s going insane, he can practically hear your hums as you kiss along his length, tongue darting out to trace his throbbing veins so obscenely. Flicking at his sensitive head. Eyes sparkling - ready to positively devour him. 

All for him. 

It’s too much. 

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he moans hoarsely, letting out a low, fucked-out little call of your name. “More. Need m-more, sweetheart.” 

Body shuddering violently, sweat dripping from his brow, Choso’s thighs quiver as he fucks his fist at an almost-animalistic pace. Chasing his release with reckless abandon. 

Choso’s heart pounds wildly in his chest as he tries - and fails - to maintain control. Raspy whines of your name escape through the crevices of his fingers, cracking ever-so-slightly in a way he knows he’d be embarrassed about if he was in a better state of mind. 

Giving up his futile attempt, long fingers snake down below to cradle his balls in a way he knows you’d do better. Tugging and pulling at a jerky rhythm that matches his hand. 

Some tiny, practical part of his brain hopes - prays - that you won’t call off the water fight early and come up to check on him. He knows he should hurry up, he knows he’s fucked if you ever found out. Shit, he should bake you apology cookies tomorrow.

But fuck are so you perfect for him. Voice so pretty and eyes so warm as you turn your gaze to his undeserving self. He’d kill to see if you still look at him that way when - if - he absolutely ruins you.

Would you be able to take all of him? Would you pout adorably until he shoves his dick down your throat? Gagging as he hits the back of your throat over and over - oh how Choso would love to mess up your mascara. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on his dick if he could. 

“Cum f’me, baby.” you’d mewl, and shit would he burn down this entire world to hear you call him that. “Mm, fill me up with your cum, wan’ taste you, baby-”

“Fuck,” he curses again, voice thick with need, and tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, sweetheart.”

You - all see-through white shirts and lacy bras that drive him wild. Giggling with the audacity of someone who isn’t making him slowly lose his sanity. You with prettily lips painted white with his seed. Cum and saliva mixing into a lewd pool on the sterile tile as you suck the soul out of him. 

You. 

And then he’s cumming. 

A raw, drawled-out keen of your name and he’s spilling into his fist. Thick, hot spurts of cum that paint his palms white in a way he wishes he could do to you. And behind his closed eyes all he sees is you - you you you-

You, dragging out his orgasm so torturously, lips decorated with his seed, dribbling down to your lacy pink bra, gushing so lewdly down your ready throat. You with your eyes dazed, lips swollen and quirking up into a fucked-out smile as he does so well for you - cumming, all for you.

You, with your wide eyes and disgust on your face as you realize just what he’d been doing on this suspiciously long “bathroom break”.

Shit.

Body still twitching with the shockwaves of probably one of the Top 5 orgasms of his life, Choso all but collapses against the bathroom door, panting heavily, utterly spent. For a moment, he lies there, wondering if this is what heaven truly felt like.

But as the euphoria of his high ebbs away into nothing but mere tingles, a slight wave of nausea crashes over him. 

Sighing, Choso reaches for the paper towels, ready to clean up his mess. If only you were there to milk him dry then he wouldn’t have to-

…

God, he was definitely baking you apology cookies tomorrow. 

Now, when it started drizzling shortly after Choso left, you took it upon yourself to usher the kids back home and hand over his t-shirt personally like the good samaritan you are - out of the goodness of your heart, of course. 

Not for any reason whatsoever because you were hoping to get at least one more glimpse of those sinful nipple piercings up-close.

…

Okay, perhaps there was a slight ulterior motive involved. 

Either way, what you’d expected was for a flash of silver as you handed over his drenched t-shirt. Or maybe that familiar easy smile to warm you up from the icy water.

Literally anything but to find yourself frozen outside the bathroom door, cunt dripping, and ears ringing with the muffled echoes of his pornographic groans.

At first, completely mortified, your fight or flight instinct had kicked in as you realized just what those rhythmic, fucked-out little grunts meant. Only for you to choose neither option - staying rooted to your spot with the utterance of one, simple, word - your name.

Confusion whirls in your mind almost as much as the throbbing in your cunt, knees weakening. Heart thumping louder and louder in your ears at each whine of your name. Shivers running down your spine - all the way to your wet cunt as it really sets in that this was Choso. And he was fucking his fist in your bathroom. To you.

And you didn’t mind?

In fact, you find yourself leaning against the door, thighs squeezing together - mere inches away from where you imagined him slumped against it. Soft strands sticking to his forehead, cock hot and heavy, aching for release. Ragged breathing as if caught off guard by the intensity of his own pleasure. Broken whispers of your name leaving him over and over-

Really, you know you should give him your privacy. But if the white-hot ropes of pleasure running up your spine are anything to go by then, well, is it really that bad?

You have half the mind to just reach down down down - just a little release. Almost jealous of Choso-

Click!

You’re sure you could rival Usain Bolt with the way you ran down those stairs. Cheeks flaring, his damp t-shirt still clutched tightly in your hand. Mind racing with only one thought - this little fuck wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

---

You can barely remember what transpired after your little discovery. You couldn’t decide who looked more dazed - you or Yuji, who was being practically dragged out that front door as Choso exited hastily with vague mentions of baking and cookies

And in the ringing silence that followed after that front door slammed, you couldn’t help the smirk that found itself onto your face. This was going to be fun.

But if there’s anything you’ve learned about Choso - it’s that even after twenty-something years on planet Earth, that man can not take a hint.

You somewhat had an inkling after the fifth time you decided to sunbathe in just a skimpy bikini at exactly when you knew he’d be watching. Well, you might not have gotten any reaction other than an extremely flushed face at the window, but at least you knew he’d have more very fun bathroom breaks.

Hell, one time you even bought ice lollies for the whole house - but especially Choso. Making sure those dark eyes followed every lick and trail of it dripping down your fingers under the scorching summer sun. Ultimately resulting in nothing more but a heavy gulp and for his ice lolly to hit the grass faster than it could even begin to melt. 

Ugh, should you get your brother to start another water fight? That went down well last time. 

It’s only after another failed attempt at trying to get him alone and a few hours of deliberating whether you should ship your interrupting brother off on a cruise too that you realize you have to get out the big guns.

“The big guns” being stealthily organizing a sleepover for your brother at the Itadoris, then inviting Choso over for a movie night. Simple, right? And, well, if anyone asked, you could just say the movie just so happened to be rated R. 

It wasn’t too hard to convince your brother that a sleepover with Yuji would be the best thing since sliced bread. The excitement in his voice palpable as he agreed, not suspecting a thing.

You just didn’t think it would be even easier to convince Choso to come over with a simple playful text of “Netflix no chill. Haha jk…unless?” But then again, when has Choso not surprised you?

And that night, as your brother eagerly headed off to Yuji’s place, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt - but, hey, it was for a good cause, right? 

It’s a win-win either way - your brother gets to spend the night with a friend and you get to be here, so achingly close to Choso on that couch. So close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, stealing glances at his sharp profile as the conversation flows easily about the movie playing on screen.

Shifting ever-so-slightly closer, electricity crackling between you two was palpable. You smile in anticipation, after all - you weren’t lying about the movie being rated R.

Now, Choso certainly didn’t come over to your house tonight expecting a wholesome rerun of Cars 2. However, he also wasn’t expecting the blockbuster action movie to suddenly unfold into something so steamy.

Goddamn lecherous directors and their goddamn pervy movies.

Eyes firmly trained on the ground, instead of the actress currently fake-moaning dramatically onscreen, Choso tries to ignore the subtle shift of your hips or the way the temperature in the room has currently increased by about 10 degrees. Or the way your moans would sound a million times prettier in his ears.

Alas, Choso was not a strong man, and he especially tries to will away the blood rushing straight to his cock right now - but how could he? You were such a vision of temptation, so close and warm and close to him on the couch.

This was absolute torture. 

“God, this is so painfully fake. Don’t you think so?” your voice rips through the deafening silence between you two, tone careful and balanced, startling Choso out of his little reverie.

His eyes flicker hastily to meet yours, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard by your sudden interruption. “Oh, yeah.” voice rough with a hint of nervousness. “I’ve seen better performances in middle school plays.”

You nod, the tension between you thickening as you lock eyes. “I mean, who even writes this stuff?” you continue, leaning in even closer to Choso, words positively dripping in sarcasm. “It’s like they’ve never actually had sex before.”

Choso lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he shifts subtly in his seat - but not subtly enough. Because you catch the way he desperately tries to adjust his now-uncomfortably tight pants. Success. 

“Yeah, exactly,” he clears his throat, ripping his gaze away from yours.

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - exactly where you wanted him. 

A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, and you lean even closer to the man. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two - you relish in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. 

“Choso, just a thought.” you hum casually, lips mere inches from his ear. “Wanna recreate the scene better?”

His breath hitches at your words, muscles rippling so deliciously beneath your touch. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he rumbles, lowly. Eyes darkened and unreadable.

You smile, heart pounding against your chest as your lips brush against his earlobe. “Absolutely.”

It was like something snapped.

Because then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him. Because goddammit you haven’t spent the last month sneaking glances at those pretty lips for nothing.

Movie completely forgotten, Choso is warm under your touch - all sculpted chest and urgent pulses as his lips kiss you dizzyingly. Groaning lowly as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

He breathes you in with an infectious desperation that bleeds into his hands, wandering every inch of your skin - as if he didn’t have enough time. And he probably didn’t. Distantly, Choso thinks that no time in the world would be enough to absolutely fucking wreck you the way he wanted to.

Large, hurried hands grope your chest, squeezing so teasingly in a way that almost made you think he was trying to feel out what bra you were wearing - lacy pink. His favorite, of course.

You minx.

Urgently tugging the hem of your tight shirt over your arms, Choso tosses it god-knows-where. Mouth watering as he pulls away to greedily take in the heavenly view of your heaving chest - the same one he’s shamelessly fucked his fist to for too long.

God, you were perfect. With a soft, little oh! Choso leans down to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he could reach. Nipping, and tugging lightly. Relishing in the way you whine for his lips again.

Threading a hand through his soft hair, you lightly pull him back to you. Breath fanning his face, lips ghosting over his own.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

And, well, Choso didn’t have to be asked twice. Molding his mouth against yours once more. Letting your lips part, you intertwine your tongue so sinfully with his. He tastes just like he looks - so intoxicatingly delicious.

With a breathy sigh, he lightly taps the curve of your ass. Hands lingering for far longer than necessary, kneading the flesh in a way that has your skin searing. 

You get the signal. Urgently, you loop your legs around his waist. “Choso- bed.” you whisper, muffled in-between kisses. “Now.”

Shivers run down your spine at the way he chuckles darkly, “Honestly, sweetheart. I don’t even hah- know if we’ll make it there.” Mumbling against your lips, “Would you kill me if I take you right here right now?”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t fucking do something.” you hiss, words dripping in desperation. Ah, but Choso, ever the merciful man, shuts up whatever other retort on the tip of your tongue with his own. Kissing you with almost-bruising intensity as he gets up from his seat. Strong arms securely wrapped underneath you, holding you flush against his warm skin.

Choso doesn’t pull away even once as he hastily makes the route to your room. And honestly, with the speed at which your back hits the soft mattress, bouncing at the sheer force at which you two fell on top, you wouldn’t even be surprised if he teleported there.

Now safely in the confines of your room, you all but rip off Choso’s snug t-shirt. Those familiar obscene nipple piercings winking at you under the dim lighting in greeting. 

“Always wanted to do this.” you murmur, surging forward as if on autopilot. Lips latching delicately onto the pretty pink nipples, tasting the cold metal on your tongue. 

“Oh- oh, fuck. A-always knew you had a thing hah- f’my piercings, sweetheart.” Choso breathes out, letting you have your fun. His favorite bra now at the foot of your bed. Fingers deftly sneaking under your skirt, blood rushes straight to his cock as he feels the positively soaked state of your panties - if you could even call them that. 

Sanity snapping, he immediately flings off your skirt. Throwing it somewhere across the room with no care or concern for where it ends up. All so he could look down at oh-

Oh god, if you had to describe Choso’s face as he takes in the sight before him - it would be absolutely losing his sanity. Your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing - all for him.

Strings of slick trail down your thighs as Choso hooks one, long finger under your slutty g-string, tugging impatiently.

You keen as the cold air hits your dripping cunt. Yet Choso’s eyes stay locked hungrily on the sticky fabric intertwined around his fingers “Guess you were expecting this, huh?” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. 

Scoffing, you buck your hips up for something - anything. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since that first night I hit on you, y’know,” you admit, the heady air of your room melting away any reservations you had previously. 

And that seems to snap Choso out of his trance - eyes flickering over to you, darkened with something so carnal that it makes your cunt throb. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles, swiftly stuffing the g-string in his pocket before leaning down, hot breath hitting your ear. “Now, what was that pick-up line you were gonna say that night?” 

You gasp in embarrassment, heat flooding to your cheeks at the memory. “Wha- that doesn’t matter. I was drunk and-”

Smack!

The delicious sting on your ass hits you before the realization that Choso smacked you. He smacked you. Even later do you realize that you like it - slick beading so obscenely at your sloppy hole.

“What was it, sweetheart?”

You shudder at the tone that leaves no room for argument. The words tumbling out of you as Choso caresses soothingly over the handprint on your ass. “I- it’s stupid. I was gonna say that I’m down to sit on your face, baby.”

“Thought so,” he grins, pulling away from the dizzying proximity. Shifting - well, more like manhandling - you to flip positions. 

God, you could almost sink into his muscles as he lays back on your bed. Voice low and dangerous as he utters words that go straight to your dripping pussy, “Now, sit on m’face.”

And before you know it, you find yourself hastily straddling Choso’s pretty face. Hands snaking down his milky abs, lips kissing along his tattoos, catching purposefully on his sensitive nipples. 

Warm breath fanning your quivering cunt, he reaches up to cup your ass, nudging your needy core to his mouth. Kneading. Groping. 

Not stopping his ministrations even when your slick oozes slowly, torturously through your swollen folds and onto his awaiting tongue. A maddening drip! drip! drip! ringing in your ears above your thundering heartbeat.

Choso groans at the mouthwatering sight above him. You - spread so shamefully open for him and clenching around nothing. 

“Luckily for you, sweetheart, wanted you to sit on m’face ever since I saw you.” sweet juices flowing down his throat, words muffled against your throbbing lips. 

He barely even gets the words out before he’s surging forward. Licking a long, languid stripe up your heated folds. Again. And again. Faster at the pretty moans that spill from your lips.

Pushing his tongue in between your slit, past that first, tight ring of muscle. Bullying it deeper and deeper. Chin pressing against your throbbing clit, ravaged at each movement of his face. 

He caresses your warm walls, relishing so filthily at the way you clamp down on him in surprise. “Hngh- oh shit, baby. Ah-”

Your sweet moans are music in his ears and shit - you called him “baby”. It’s as if every wet dream he’s ever had has come to life as Choso dips in and out at a ruthless pace. Pulling out to tease your dripping entrance, pushing past mercilessly into your plushy walls. In and out in and out in and out-

His cock strains so painfully against his pants at the way your sloppy hole sucks his tongue in so obscenely - almost as if it hurts to part. Tongue fucking you the way he wishes he could with his cock right now.

“Oh- Hah- Choso! Fuck, baby. S’good.” your body arches into his absolutely depraved tongue. 

Desperate whines spilling incessantly from your mouth at the way he quirks his tongue up just right to graze that spot he knew would have you grinding down on him for more. “Ah! Right there - jus’ like that!”

As if he knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to break you. You almost don’t notice the mindless, shallow little thrusts of his hips into your open palm. Almost.

Eyes snapping open at the tremors, you reach a hand across his quivering thighs. All the way down towards the very obvious dark patch on his pants - right where his furiously hard tip was leaking thick, relentless precum that made your mouth water. 

Oh, how you’d kill to taste him - see if the rest of him is as intoxicating as his mouth is.

So you do. 

Choso was so pussy-drunk in-between your thighs that you think he barely notices the way you fumble with his belt. Shakily pulling those pants down just enough to glimpse the rock-hard erection that those boxers do nothing to hide. 

“Shit,” you whisper, voice strained with need. 

You always imagined Choso had a big cock - but this was ridiculous. Your pussy clenches in both nervousness and anticipation as you imagined the delicious stretch of him splitting you apart on it. Breaking you. 

And that’s probably when Choso notices - you clamping down so filthily on his tongue. 

“Oh?” he rasps, voice sending white-hot vibrations of pleasure right up your spine. “Didn’t think you were so desperate for my cock, sweetheart. Gon’ make me cum, hm?”

Now, you’ve always thought of yourself as a woman of action rather than empty words. Which is probably why you urgently pull down his boxers. Choso’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs. 

You take a moment to admire the long, heavy cock in your hands - a deliciously pretty pink on top, furiously leaking glistening precum. Saliva pooling in your mouth - you shove it as far down your throat as you possibly could. 

Oh, how many times in his life has Choso imagined this moment right here. In the shower, right before bed, right after waking up too. You’re really a dream come to life. 

A startled, strangled moan of your name leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips as you take him all in one go. Only to pull back and spit once- twice on his throbbing cock. The steady stream of spit cool - followed so maddeningly by the warm heat of your mouth once more. You start up a torturous, filthy pace bobbing your head up and down on his cock.

He strains his head to catch a glimpse - even just one - of your nose pressed against his pelvis. Breathing in the heady scent at the tufts of hair at the bottom, already wet with precum and spit. His dirty girl. 

Popping off with a lewd squelch, “Feels good, baby?”

“Feels perfect.”

But he wasn’t gonna fall far behind.

Immediately attaching his lips with yours once more, Choso dives nose-deep in your dripping cunt. Rolling your throbbing clit in between his lips. Flicking his tongue along the sensitive bud in a way that makes your head feel so light. He alternates between a slow, languid torture on your clit and fucking into you unforgivingly.

Your movements stutter as you teasingly lick at his sensitive slit. The salty flavor of his precum is probably your favorite taste now. That bastard.

Reaching down, you cup his heavy balls, massaging the tender flesh in harsh, hasty circles that match your mouth down his length - up and down up and down up and-

Muffled moans and lewd squelching filling the heated room. A rhythmic, sinful cadence that both of you were losing your sanity to. Movements more frantic now. Desperate to make the other cum. Desperate to be first.

Letting out soft, raw grunts, Choso fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth. Your eyes water as his tip abuses the back of your throat. And it makes you wish you could see how messy he looked right now. All smudged eyeliner and slick-glossed lips. 

Gagging around him, a mixture of drool and precum drips sinfully down the corner of your mouth as you increase your pace, pooling messily on his lower abs. Sloppy - so sloppy.

So it only made sense that your orgasms were the same. 

Pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming, you gush around Choso’s mouth with a stifled squeal. Stars behind your eyes, vision blurring, mind blanking - the only things you register being the languid tongue lapping up at your sweet juices and the guttural groan of what sounds like your name as Choso shoots thick, hot spurts of his cum down your throat. 

Throat burning as the salty taste fills your senses, you milk his cock for more more more- his dick pulsing and stuttering in your mouth. Cum staining the fresh sheets below - a problem for later. 

Right now all you were focused on was riding out your high, grinding almost animalistically on Choso’s pretty face. 

You’ve barely removed yourself from him with a lewd pop! before Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress. Two fingers squishing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout, cold rings digging into your skin. The other hand snaking in between your thighs to play with your still-twitching cunt. 

“Didn’t say we were done yet, sweetheart.” he mutters. You weren’t done - no, far from it. Because fuck a refractory period - both of you were going to take all you could get.

And before you can think of anything else, Choso is leaning down, hand prying your lips apart for him into a brutal kiss. Teeth clashing, lips bruising. He forces his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself before you barely get a chance to taste him as well. 

“Hah- fuck-” you flinch as he swears into your bruised lips. “So fuckin’ sweet. You taste so good sweetheart.” The sheer debauchery and ache of his cock too much for him. 

Tasting him. Tasting you. Both a heady flavor that leaves you yearning for more. 

You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation, relishing in the drawn-out groan that rumbles into your mouth at this. The kiss is feral. It’s animalistic. It leaves you feeling so fucking dirty. 

And you barely recognise the dazed, predatory glint in Choso’s eyes as he pulls away, his mind clearly miles away as he spits once. Twice. Three times on your face.

The wads of saliva and cum hit your face with a warm, wet jolt. You whine at the way it seeps into your skin, dripping down your cheeks so fucking obscenely. Pooling at the sheets below in a way that makes you feel sorry for whoever had a shift at the laundromat tomorrow.

“Now, what do we say, sweetheart?”

A fucked-out, delirious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you realize - yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Thank you.”

Not even when Choso lets out a dark chuckle, throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders and manhandling you so that you’re splayed out so shamefully for him. Dripping cunt spread for his greedy gaze and clenching around nothing - aching for him. Begging for him.

Not even when he lines up his still-rock hard cock at your entrance, tip - angry and red - weeping so desperately as he nudges at your sloppy hole. Dragging his head along your folds collecting every bead of slick, just grazing your pulsing clit. Every muscle in your body trembling and anticipating what was to come.

You mewl at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock. 

And especially not when he bottoms out inside you in one, harsh thrust. Burying himself inside your sloppy walls till his twitching balls smack against your ass. 

“Ah- hngh- oh fuckkk.” you keen in both pain and pleasure - broken, raw moans leaving you uncontrollably. But not for long, because suddenly Choso’s shoving two ringed fingers in your mouth, bullying their way inside till you’re gagging and moaning around them. 

Pressing right at that spot on the back of your tongue that makes your eyes tear up so prettily. Hey, if he couldn’t see you choking on his cock properly, the least he could do is see you choking on his fingers, right?

“Now now, wouldn’t want anyone else to hear, hm? Our brother’s would get worried.” he chuckles. Pure, dark amusement in his eyes as he takes in your swollen lips, the teartracks down your cheeks, how utterly beautiful and debauched you look underneath him. So much better than any lust-hazed imagination of his.

And yet, even when you’re being gagged and split apart on his cock, you find it in yourself to be mouthy. Words muffled around his thick fingers as you raise a brow. “There’s no one else home, though?.”

The corners of Choso’s lips lift into a devilish grin, “The neighbors, sweetheart.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a chill down your spine. He’s just joking, right? Right?

“Wha-”

And probably because he was losing his patience - and partly to shut you up - Choso begins to move.

Pushing past the resistance, beginning to fuck into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips. Just little motions to get him off, groaning at how sinfully tight you were - the way you were sucking him up so good.

Next time, Choso thinks, reaching down a hand to draw tight, little circles on your poor, abused clit - next time he’ll fuck you right. Hours upon hours of teasing you so you don’t know what it feels like when you’re empty without him. 

But fuck does he think he could just about pass out right now.

There’s no going back now. Choso fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage.

Pulling all the way back so that his leaking tip just barely kisses your sloppy entrance, slamming down down down, Choso fucks you at a merciless pace. Relishing the delicious stretch of your cunt as he thrusts into you with a desperation that surpasses the need for reason. 

“Sh-shit, sweetheart. God, s’tight. better than I ever could’ve imagined.” he moans breathlessly, brows furrowing, eyes rolling to the back of his head, the feeling of you milking the absolute soul out of him just too much.

“Oh, yeah- wanted this for so long-”

You yelp every time he rams his cock into you, the smacking of his toned pelvis against your thighs stinging almost as deliciously as his tip kissing your cervix. The obscene slapping of skin on skin makes your cheeks burn - both pairs as his heavy balls smack against your ass each time he shoves his throbbing cock into you.

And because you can’t leave him alone, of course, you find your nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders. 

Pulling him impossibly closer. You want more. You need more. 

Maybe you say those words out loud - you don’t even know anymore, too delirious and cock-drunk from Choso and your last orgasm and Choso - because his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, mouth falling open into a small oh. Your cunt twitches at the surprised, fucked-out little laugh that leaves him,  “More? My sweetheart wants more?”

And, as you’ve come to learn with Choso - anything you want, you will get. 

“Then fucking- take it.” he grunts lowly, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust of into your plush walls that sends both of you spiraling deeper and deeper into insanity.

And God does he make you take it. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits - both your cunt and your senses as he leans down to bury his head into your neck, hips moving so sloppily, hiking your leg further up his shoulder. The change in angle making you see stars.

Your hips buck up in tandem with his, uncontrollable little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. You whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room, “Yes. Yes yes yes- wan’ cum. Need more. Need you-”

“Fuck- Hngh-” is all he manages to gasp out, pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Choso’s balls twitch almost painfully as they keep smacking your ass. Brain still not keeping up with his body because shit, this is all he’s wanted for years, the least he could do is make you cum before him.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart.” he rasps into your heated skin, “So close- m’ so close.”

You all but sob at his words, “M’too- hngh- ah, m’gonna cum, baby.”

You didn’t expect the petname to be what breaks him, but then again you didn’t think there was anything more left to break. Because Choso groans gutturally, cock twitching inside you “Shit, you’re driving m’crazy, y’know that?”

“I know.” you mewl, voice breaking at the way he increases his frenzied pace on your clit. You could barely even call them circles, just filthy little movements to get you closer and closer to the edge. So close. You writhe beneath him, desperate for release.

And what you didn’t expect was for Choso to connect his sweaty forehead with yours. You take a second to admire just how beautiful he is - all smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, your release still shining on the lower half of his face, and yours. All yours. You could probably stare at the sight forever.

Choso’s hot breath fans your face as he moans breathlessly against your lips, words slurring together as he ruts into you mindlessly, “Always did, y’know?”

“I know.”

“No- y’don’t hah- understand, I- for so long fuck- I-”

“Choso, just kiss me.”

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth. A slow, tender little dance that doesn’t match the way he rams his cock inside you. 

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - clamping down desperately on the harsh, jerky movements of his glistening cock that fuck you so sinfully like his little slut. 

White-hot pleasure runs down your spine, or maybe that was Choso - painting your insides the prettiest white you’ve ever seen. Shooting thick, hot ropes of his seed into your waiting pussy. A creamy ring forming around his base as he spills his cum into your snug cunt as he moans against your lips.

It’s messy. It’s sloppy. And as Choso fills you to the brim, hips still unforgiving, seed dribbling out of your dripping pussy at the way it was so overfilled - you think that it’s all you could ever want. 

As his cock twitches finally, exhaustedly - and you distantly wonder how the fuck it isn’t seizing up - Choso collapses onto you, thoroughly fucked-out. Finally pulling out with an obscene squelch, you hiss lowly at the pool of cum that forms beneath you. Gushing out of you sinfully. 

A weighty silence in the air as you both try to catch your breaths.

In the haze of your orgasm you realize that even after all that transpired, he still isn’t laying his full bodyweight on you.

Too afraid to break you.

To break whatever this tender little understanding in the air was.

And it makes some part of your heart clench so delightfully. Subconsciously, you thread a hand through his damp hair, breathing in that familiar smell of vanilla and sunshine - and the heady scent of something so Choso. It makes you intertwine your body so impossibly close with his, not knowing where one of you ends and the other starts.

“My parents are coming home tomorrow.” you start, casually. 

“Mhm. But I’ll still be around here, sweetheart.” Choso rumbles into the crook of your neck. Kissing soothingly over the marks he’d made in the heat of the moment - some carnal little part of him proud of the way you looked like you were fucking thrown to a pack of wolves. 

Words hiding a tense little fear beneath them as you probe further. Something prickly and scared rolling around in your stomach. “For babysitting?”

“Nope.”

Settling deeper into the covers, basking in the afterglow of him. You know you should get up and clean, but right now this was all you wanted. And maybe no other words were needed. 

“God, am I glad your parents aren’t home.” 

Except maybe those. 

You chuckle as you pull back to stare into those deep, dark eyes. Cheeks flaring at the tender little warmth in them much more than they had when he was fucking you so sinfully. A devious idea coming to mind - because now that you got a taste, you were absolutely hooked.

Choso Kamo was absolutely intoxicating.

“Well, we still have time so how about-”

A distant click!

“Honey, we’re home~!”

Shit.

A/N. Fun fact this was originally supposed to be called Timeout! but it was giving too much me during beep test.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo

[fangirlmermaid]

Please Princess

Summary: You were kidnapped by Kronos goons, and just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, a familiar face proved you wrong

Pairing: Luke Castellan x daughterofPoseidon!reader

warning: Angst!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Also kind of long (Sorry)

(This scene was inspired by Euphoria)

You’ve lost count of how many days since you’ve been in this cell. You don’t remember how one of Kronos’s goons managed to sneak up on you, one minute you were walking to the Poseidon Cabin late at night and the next you were in this small ass cell that only had a crappy spring mattress.

You were expecting Kronos’s goons to rough you up, but they haven’t. They’ve only come in once a day to give you food and water which you end up throwing back in the goon's faces. They still never laid a finger on you, you were starting to believe that you were leverage for whatever the hell your brother Percy was doing.

The next day you just sit Chris cross applesauce on the ground and face the wall when you hear footsteps. “Heard you were being stubborn” A familiar voice announced, your eyes widened No not him Luke was the last person you wanted to see. You touched the scar that laid across your cheekbone, something you got from that night.

You went to find Luke and Percy because they were taking a while and you wanted to enjoy the fireworks with them. You find them pointing their swords at each other, Luke tried to explain how Percy lied about not being the lightning thief but of course, you didn’t believe him which led to you and Percy trying to take Luke down. Luke swung backbiter intending to strike at Percy but he dodged and ended up cutting you.

You were heartbroken, Luke was the love of your life! You didn’t care about glory or getting the god's attention, as long as Luke was with you. You believed Luke cared about you too, he was your biggest supporter! This made you wonder if he was only dating you so you would be more willing to join Kronos.

Luke placed the tray on the small meal table on the cell door, “Come on please eat something” Luke’s voice laced with concern. You tried to blink away the tears, gods he’s still acting like he cares about you. You still sat with your back facing the man you once loved, even if you knew what you wanted to say, your voice couldn’t be found.

“You need to eat…please princess” Luke begged, when he called you his old nickname for you the memories that you tried to shut out came rushing back, all the campfires, sneaking to the lake at night, movie night on your phone. You couldn’t hold the tears back anymore, “don’t call me that” your voice cracked, Luke was relieved to hear her voice oh how he missed it.

He wanted to hear your voice more “Princess please, you have to understand” Luke tried to explain, and for the first time you looked at him filled with rage “Understand?” you mumbled, and you stood up “Understand?!” you yelled storming towards the cell door, words couldn’t describe how enraged you were “you betrayed us!” you yelled shoving the food tray back at Luke. The traitor didn’t flinch, “Y/N” Luke’s voice was soft, it felt weird that he was saying your real name “The gods don’t care about us, they have ignored us for too long. We’re just pawns to their game” Luke explained his eyes that only known kindness now replaced with spite and hatred, you glared at the man you once loved “So that’s supposed to make it okay for you to try to kill my brother?! He’s a kid!” You yelled white-knuckling the cell bars “I’m sorry for that Y/N, I am, but I need to make sure Kronos will rise” Luke explained, you felt your heart ripping once again.

You took a few steps back and looked at this monster who looked like the man you used to love. Your eyes darkened, You never thought he would kill a kid “That dragon should’ve fucking killed you” your voice laced with venom, that was a punch in the gut for Luke “You don’t mean that” Luke whispered his eyes glossed, “I do mean it!” you muttered at Luke who remained silent “You fucking betrayed us, Luke! You betrayed Annabeth! You betrayed me! And it fucking hurts Luke!” You shouted tears running down your face. Luke mumbled “I love you” You couldn’t believe that he had the nerve to say that “No you don’t!” your voice cracked, Luke nodded his head “I love you” he mumbled once again, Gods will he stop saying that “No you don’t! Stop saying that! You don’t love me!” You shouted, clapping your hands with the last sentence.

Luke has never seen you this angry especially at him, you guys have arguments but they were never this bad. You leaned into the cell bars wanting to look Luke in the eyes “I have a lot of regrets in my life, but I have to say that meeting you has to be on the top of my fucking list” You explained in a malicious tone, Luke's eyebrows raised. A tear ran down Luke's cheek “You don’t mean that princess” Luke mumbled, you’d be lying if you didn’t feel a little bit satisfied by making him cry “I.mean.every.fucking.word” you spat at him. Luke grabbed your hand before you could walk away to catch your breath “Stop” you mumbled trying to pull away but Luke tightened his grip, he turned your hand over, exposing your palm. You studied Luke who looked at you with love before giving your palm a soft kiss something he used to do all the time, your eyes glossed at the sight. Luke gave it a final kiss before letting go, you cradled it into your chest “Y/N, none of this was supposed to betray you. I love you, I’m doing this for us” Luke explained calmly, you looked at Luke with murderous eyes “We could’ve left, Luke. We could’ve lived in a cottage in the middle of nowhere, just like we used to talk about” You reminded in a low tone your throat was dry and sore from the screaming, Luke shook his head “You know it’s not that simple, not for us” Luke explained, you knew it was true there would be monsters knocking on your door every five minutes but you wouldn’t have cared. You started to laugh “You know you're no different than them” You stated looking up at your ceiling, Luke raised an eyebrow “The gods” you continued, you were walking side to side in your cell “That’s not true” Luke grumbled, you laughed one again “but you are. You’re no better than Zeus, you’re no better than Ares…you’re no better than your father” you muttered, you smiled in satisfaction when Luked at you with rage in his eyes “I am nothing like them,” Luke told his voice laced with venom, you nodded your head not believing him “you’re a fucking vampire. Just like them” you muttered, Luke stood there in disbelief “You just go around sucking the fucking spirit out of everyone!” You yelled pressing your face into the cell bars and looking him dead in the eyes, Luke shook his head “You know that’s not true” he reminded, your murderous eyes staring him down “It is fucking true!” you yelled before walking away from the bars.

Then Luke had the nerve to say the three words again “Y/N, please! I love you!” he shouted, you wished he would stop lying “No you love being loved! You love being needed and being awed at like your some whimsical fucking creature!” You yelled wishing the bars weren’t here so you could leave, Luke sighed before looking at you “I love you! What will it take for you to believe me?!” Luke shouted in frustration, you wiped away your old tears “If you want me to believe you then stay away from me” You muttered, Luke shook his head making you sigh in frustration “Then let Kronos’s goons kill me because looking at you makes me physically fucking ill!” you spat at him before walking into a corner with your back facing him, telling him that you are done talking to him.

You stood there until you heard the main door slammed, you turned around and he was gone. You felt like an idiot for dating him, you should’ve seen it coming. You should’ve killed him that night, he was no longer the man you loved. It’s all your fault, out of anyone in camp you should’ve been the one to know that he was up to something.

You slid down against the wall, you brought your knees into your chest, and you were hysterical crying into your knees. Even though with everything that is happening, deep down you still loved him and you wished you didn’t.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfic #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x reader

[lottie150209]

John Price fingering you in front of the mirror, x afab fem reader, MDNI !!!

tags: John price smut, Price cod, John price, Captain john price x reader, Captain price, Price x reader, call of duty smut, cod smut, cod price, john price x reader, captain john price

cw: Mirror kink, “Good girl”, reader gets fingered

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m sorry I haven’t really uploaded much life’s been a bit busy!! I’m working on some things rn but the motivation to keep writing is really low but i’ll power through no doubt 👍👍 enjoy!!!! ps: I barley proof read it 😭

John Price was a mad man; a fucking machine. Built like a superhero, covered in dirt with that sexy beard of his but god damn you’d let him do the unspeakable to you.

He could fuck for hours, for nights- you swore if he had enough energy he could go on for days. But one thing he struggled to do was finger you.

You felt a bit embarrassed to ask why as you always assured him it felt good but the disgruntled expression and sigh he makes when he pulls out of you made you worry. You began to wonder if it was something wrong with you and that’s the reason why.

In your head it made sense, him making it plainly obvious he didn’t want to do it every-time it was over but your mind always made something up to contradict your theory.

If he hated it so much why did he enjoy eating you out? Why would he throw you in the bed, staring at your pussy hungry before attacking your clit fast and hard like the military captain he is? And if he hated fingering you so much why did he offer?

Why did he do that?

You stretched your legs out under your office chair before packing your bag and leaving work, on your way home. Tonight was the night you were going to ask him, embarrassing or not. You couldn’t let your dwelling and overthinking cluster up your head any longer, it was time.

You opened the gate to your rustic home and headed for the big door. The house you two had bought was quiet old and elegant and you’d loved it so much, decorating the decaying walls and overgrown garden and making it your own. You loved the style and it made you feel cozy, this was your dream house.

The door shut behind you and the farmilliar scent of vanilla candles and firewood cascaded through the walls as the fire cracked beside you. You hung up your coat and dumped your bag on the floor.

“Baby? Where are you?” You called and after hearing a couple strained grunts you heard Price yell back a ‘Here’ from upstairs. Curiosity flooded your mind and you jogged up the stairs and pushed open your bedroom door to see him crouched on the floor, tool kit sprawled behind him and a screw driver in his hand.

“What the fuck is that?” The laughter of your voice falling through as you store at the mirror nailed to the wall, it was huge. Something out of a ballet studio and you turned back to him, heavy breathing and whipping the sweat off of his pink face.

“Thought you’d like it, pretty big though.” Yeah, just a little. Head to toe taking all the room and right in-front of the bed, how amazing. Cant wait to wake up to my own reflection.

“Doesn’t exactly go with the rustic design of the house does it?” But all he did was laugh and pull you closer, giving you a sloppy but loving kiss on the lips as you tried to wriggle away. His hands clasped around you waist and you remembered what you were going to ask him. Your mouth fell ajar but before you could speak he was dragging along the wide wooden chair to sit on before placing it infront of the mirror and take a seat.

“Want to know what it’s for?” He asked, words laced with something you couldn’t put your tongue on but you hesitantly nodded, wondering why he bought this. It must’ve costed a lot, and it was rather beautiful, it was as clear as glass. Why did he get this.

Price smirked letting a deep chuckle through his tight lips before patting his laps for you to sit. You sat down hesitantly and glacéd in the mirror at you two, his hands around your waist, just above your black skirt and eyes locked onto you. His left hand trailed up towards your neck sending tingles down your body and dampening your panties again. His other creeping closer down and rubbed your thigh soothingly.

“When I finger you love, I struggle a lot. I know you notice and I want to let you know why I struggle.” His hand reached your neck just below your chin and he tilted your neck back so your head laid on his strong shoulder, still looking at yourself in the mirror, with him in control.

"I love to see my fingers inside you, your cum gushing out after i finger you, but i also love to see your little face. Your cute little scrunched eyes, mouth wide open out of pleasure.” You couldn’t fight back the small whimper you let out as his hands on your thigh slowly rose higher, slipping comfortably under your skirt.

“But darling i’m getting old now, aren’t I? It’s too hard to look up then down then up- I miss a few things and I don’t like missing.” His seductive grin send pools of lava to your stomach and your thighs tensed under his hands as his thick fingers grazed the soft fabric of your panties. Teasing you and loving every fucking second.

“But fuck, from this angle? I can see all of you, all of you at once. Your breathing, face, pussy, everything and I love it.” You shut your eyes in embarrassment and you felt your face burn while he slid your underwear down slowly and gently tapped against your precious sensitive skin.

Tracing slowly down your wet slit coating himself in your taste. He groaned at the feeling kissing your temple while his finger prodded into your entrance greedily. Next time he will take his time, next time he will have you begging for his fingers. Next time because god he couldn’t wait now.

The thickness of his finger stretched you out slightly as he thrusted it in and out of you, burning your hole slightly as he added another and another. Your moans and cries send sparks to his dick below you and you felt him harden more and more beneath you- he didn’t stop to fuck you though.

“Oh yeah darling look at you, fucking look at yourself.” His other hand stretched to your chin, tilting your face up and through tears you watched yourself be finger fucked by John. Tightening around his hand more and moaning louder as tears rolled down your cheek.

“Baby I’m going to-” You started but he shut you up shushing you quiet with a small kiss and rapid movements. His husky voice demanding you just to let yourself go.

“Come on, that’s it. Just let it all go, cum on my fingers. Good girl, oh my god you’re such a good girl.” As you came, cum squirting out of your abused hole and dripping down his sticky fingers. Your back arched and your legs started to shake and tremble against him and he just smiled. Pulling out of you and holding you for a moment, licking his fingers clean.

“Was that good darling? I loved it. So much better than usually fingering you.” You breathing calmed down slowly as you shakily nodded. John leant over giving you another loving kiss before chuckling.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to calm down and then we’ll go again, yeah?”

#john price smut #price cod #john price #captain john price x reader #captain price #price x reader #call of duty smut #cod smut #cod price #john price x reader #captain john price

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Nine — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Roza’s arrival in Windhaven brings some home truths crashing down on Reader. She just needs a hug, someone to talk to, but it all goes very, very wrong…

Word Count: 3k.

Warnings: None.

Chaos evades logic.

There is no rationality to be found here. No sense to be made of the ample feelings that begin to chew you up and spit you out.

All you know, as you lace your breeches up and correct yourself, is that you feel like you’ve been punched in the gut.

“Are you decent?” Roza calls, her back still to you.

You tie the last lace. Clear your throat. “All good.”

The closest person you’ve ever had to a mother figure turns on the spot. She’s absolutely beautiful — fucking glowing — her swollen belly visible through her thick coat, and her eyes alight with a quality you’ve never seen before.

Rhysand really is the mirror image of her.

“I actually cannot believe I just witnessed that.” She grouses. “And just when I thought the morning sickness had finally come to an end, too. My poor, poor eyes.”

Cassian makes a noise. “Roz, that’s a bit dramatic—”

“You be quiet.” She points a finger at him. “Your mouth has done quite enough tonight, thank you very much.”

The two of them stare at each other — Cassian wanting to be a little shit and push his luck, and Roza wanting to…

Well, to gouge her eyes out with a rusty spoon, probably.

But then Cassian cracks a grin, and he’s bounding over to the female like an excitable pup. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

“Watch your language.” Roza scorns, but she happily accepts the hug that Cass yanks her into. “Gods, you’ve grown even more.”

You…you are rooted to the spot. Unable to move.

You want to go over there, too. To embrace her. But…but just seeing Roza makes the previous couple of months come hammering down on you in an unwelcome downpour of unwanted realisations.

You think: Roza caught me fooling around with Cassian.

And then you think: Fucking hell, I fooled around with Cassian again.

And then you’re wondering how — how you’ve let the recent events of your life veer down such a beaten, broken path.

It’s like Roza’s appearance brings a clarity that has been very much absent as of late. She’s always been a figure of reason and wisdom, always stopped you from spiralling.

And now she’s here, you’re looking at Cassian — your damn friend — and wondering just how much damage you might have caused.

He’s mid-conversation with Roza when he seems to notice you staring at him. Roza notices, too.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She says.

You open your mouth, unsure how you intend to respond. All that slips out is a rasped, “I’m just…so glad you’re here.”

Cassian snorts. “Tell that to your face.”

You can’t bring yourself to laugh at the jibe. And it would seem that Roza can’t, either. She’s studying you in that assessing way you’ve seen her wear a thousand times before — the one where the motherly instinct kicks in, and she’s sensing something is wrong. It seems to be a subconscious act, the way she slides her hand over her bump.

“So what are you doing back here, anyway?” Cassian asks her, slinging an arm round her shoulders. “I thought the High Lord wanted you to stay in Velaris for the pregnancy.”

“He does.” Roza says. “But then I found out Y/N had somehow ended up homeless and that he hadn’t bothered to help, so he and I aren’t on the best of terms right now.” She eyes you again. “I’ve come to move you properly into the cottage — including retrieving your belongings from your father’s house. I will not have you freezing your ass off in this dump.”

Gods, you love her.

She’s so fierce, so passionate. This is a female who housed three lost, rowdy children under her roof and offered them the same amount of love as she felt for her biological son. This is a female who does what she believes is right and damns the consequences. This is a female who doesn’t hesitate — not for one second — to help somebody in need.

She’s the exact kind of female you want yourself to be. And she’s the only person you wish to see in that moment.

“Perfect.” Cassian chirps brightly. “I’ll help. Let’s go fetch Y/N’s stuff from the bastard’s house right now.”

He takes a step towards the door, but Roza is laying a hand on his arm. She doesn’t look away from you once. “Cassian, my darling, I love you endlessly. And so, I say this with the greatest of adoration — fuck off to the mead hall, or something, and leave Y/N and I to have some girl time alone.”

“What?” He squawks in outrage. “But you just got here.”

“And I promise you we’ll catch up properly later. But right now, Y/N and I need some time alone.”

“But—”

“Do you want to stay and discuss the ins and outs of childbirth?”

Instantly, he falters. The change of tune would be comical if you were actually capable of feeling anything but despair in that moment.

“You know what?” He cracks a grin. “The mead hall sounds great right about now.”

Roza chuckles. “I thought it might. I’m taking Y/N back to the cottage. I’ll come and fetch you when we’re done. And if you see Az or Rhys, be sure to tell them to stay away, too.”

Oh.

This is going to be a serious talk.

You can’t remember the last time Roza was so insistent about it just being the two of you.

Probably when you got your first ever cycle, and she held and soothed and bathed you through it.

Will she still be so tender when she hears of the full scope of the mess you’ve created for yourself? You’re not sure you’d deserve it.

“Go easy, Cass.” Roza warns. “Don’t get into any fights.”

“Pff. As if I would.” Your friend lands a kiss on her cheek. “You look beautiful, Roz.” He says, and then he’s bustling out of the door without a care in the world.

You stare after him. Wish you could be that carefree. It feels…it feels impossible.

Gods, you just want to fucking cry.

Roza can see that. She holds a hand out.

“Come, my little dove.” She says. “Let’s get you home.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

It kind of feels like walking into the cottage for the very first time, all over again.

You remember that night like it happened only yesterday. Remember how the cold had felt as you’d followed Azriel through the snow. The noises of bickering coming  from behind the door.

Even at eleven, Az had always seemed so much taller than you. You’d noticed that as he’d strode ahead and led you inside.

Roza had been standing in the kitchen, and she’d turned to you with a curious expression. “Oh.” She’d chirped, with more warmth than you’d ever heard from your own kin. “What have we here, then?”

You, Azriel had explained to her, had been set upon by a group of males far older than you. Az had defended you, and then he’d invited you to share his dinner.

Roza had taken one look at the dirt packed beneath your fingernails and told you to thoroughly wash your hands before taking a seat. You’d done just that.

And it was at that very table that Rhysand had introduced himself.

“I’m Rhysand. My father is the High Lord.”

Roza had scolded him for showing off.

And it was after that that Cassian had eyed you with a wild, feral look and simply said, “I bet I could beat you in an arm wrestle. I beat everyone.”

“Not at my dinner table, you don’t.” Roza had put a stop to that immediately. And then she’d placed a steaming pie in the centre of the table, and High Lords and arm wrestles were all but forgotten, and Azriel had been quiet and shy at your side, but dutifully offering you different foods before he took any for himself—

Standing at the threshold of the cottage, now…it’s like watching that entire scene play out before you. The ghosts of your younger, wayward selves feast greedily on a wholesome meal that lets you forget your harrowing experiences for a little while.

How things have changed.

You finally step in. Kick the door shut behind you. The smells and warmth of your sanctuary envelop you, and you know — you fucking know that you won’t be able to keep a lid on your tears for long.

“Don’t know how many times I’ve told those idiots to put the fire out before they leave the house.” Roza mutters, but she goes striding straight towards that burning fire and welcomes its warmth. “Although, I must admit, I’m a little impressed. I expected this place to be far messier in my absence than it is. Don’t tell me they’ve actually been cleaning—”

“Roza.” You cut in, your voice shaky, desperate. “About what you saw—”

She turns back to you. Says nothing as concerned, violet eyes sweep the length of your body. She’s letting you speak, but you don’t know what the fuck to say.

You open and close your mouth as though the act will make some sense of…any of this.

It doesn’t.

“I didn’t realise you and Cassian were…” Roza clears her throat. Pauses. “I just…what of Azriel, Y/N?”

You blink at her.

Roza’s very good at knowing things she hasn’t been told, but for her to know about you and Az when she’s been in Velaris this whole time, and when, as far as you’re aware, these things have been strictly kept between you and Azriel only—

“What?” You breathe.

“Perhaps I’m wrong, I don’t know.” She frowns. “But I always suspected that you and Az would be…something more. Your connection with him has always run a little deeper than with anyone else. That’s why I was so shocked when I found you…and Cass…”

Is she wrong?

No.

And fucking damn you for taking all these years to see it. Fucking damn you for only realising you wanted Azriel as more than just your friend when somebody else began to recognise his brilliance.

Fucking damn you for all of this, and damn Azriel, too, and damn everyone.

It all comes showering down on you in an instant, harsh and unwelcome.

You love Azriel. Not just in the way you love Rhysand and Cassian. You’re in love with his soul, his spirit. Who he is will always be tethered to who you are, even though he isn’t yours to cling onto. It’s been that way since you were old enough to harbour such feelings, and you’ve been burying it all these years, burying it under bad choices and regrettable actions, because all of that seemed easier to face, than…this. The fact that you were never able to control your heart, stop it from feeling such things, and now you feel them so intensely that it hurts.

Had your deal with Az ever really been about helping him, or had it been a selfish ruse under which you could have some small experience to remember him by when he inevitably gave his heart to somebody else?

Because you are just Y/N. You’ve always just been Y/N.

You are not Kaeda — Kaeda with the wings, and the strength, and the excellence.

Just Y/N. Just Y/N—

“Speak to me, my love.” Roza steps closer. “I’m worried about you.”

Your eyes blur with tears. Your legs buckle, and you’re bracing one hand on the back of the couch while the other flies up to cup over your mouth.

“Oh, gods, what have I done?” Your voice breaks.

“Speak to me.” Roza says again.

“This is all such a mess.”

“What is, Y/N?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t know what—what to do!”

“You need to breathe.” She responds firmly. “Deep breaths. Now.”

You try. Gods, you try. But your chest is constricting, and the air won’t reach your lungs, and all you can hear on a constant loop inside your head is one, bellowing sentence.

Everything is irreversibly changed.

Roza closes the gap between you and cups your face. The touch is soft, but firm. She forces you to look at her, and her face is blurred by your tears, but you know she’s looking at you how she’s always looked at you — with love.

“Tell me what’s going on, and I can help you through it.” She pleads.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” You sob back.

She yanks you close, arms wrapping around you. She’s held you like this through so, so much. This is no different.

But it feels different, in that it feels worse. Not only is it possible that your actions could change your relationships with both Cassian and Azriel, but also that they could change their relationship with each other, too — change the strong, steadfast dynamic between your three closest friends.

You tremble, clinging to Roza like you may just collapse. Your heartbeat gallops in your ears like rhythmic footfalls.

“Y/N—”

“It all turned into a total mess.” You choke out. “I was feeling things — I am feeling things — and then Azriel had Kaeda and I was jealous and stupid and I — I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have slept with Cassian.”

“You did what?”

Those three, outraged words are not spoken in Roza’s voice. The sudden interjection of Azriel’s is enough for your sobs to catch in your throat.

Every single inch of your body goes cold as you step back to look at him. Blink at him. Roza fights to keep hold of you.

Normally, he would have hurried over to embrace her. But he stays rooted to the last step of the staircase. He’s staring at you. Only you.

You’ve never seen him look so pale.

“Az.” Roza sighs softly. “We didn’t realise you were home.”

He doesn’t look away from you — not once — as he asks, “What did you just say?”

Roza inches towards him. “I think we all need to sit down and talk about this—”

“You fucked Cassian?”

Tears spill over, roll down your cheeks. Your voice doesn’t want to show itself as you croak out, “Az, I can explain.”

“You fucked Cassian?” He’s repeating it like…like he needs to. Like it won’t get into his head any other way. “You had sex with him?”

“Yes, but—”

“Around the time you and I were doing similar things?”

Roza’s head whips round to you in surprise. You’d failed to mention that bit. After a moment, she rights herself once more. “Azriel, you should let her speak.”

“I can’t fucking believe you.” Letting you speak is the last thing on his mind as he steps down, storming past the two of you. You reach out for him, but he’s jerking away, heading for the door.

“Azriel, please.” Your voice cracks. “Let me explain.”

“Explain that you fucked Cass? At the same time that I was sharing such…such huge things with you—”

“At the same time you were sharing them with Kaeda!”

He falls still, hand faltering on the doorknob, shoulders hunched.

And then he glances over his shoulder at you with an expression so bleak, you’d do anything, make a bargain with anyone, to wipe it from his face.

“Except that I’ve never touched Kaeda like that.” He says. “Not once. I couldn’t.”

Before you’re capable of summoning an answer, he’s yanking the door open and thundering out into the snow.

Shock pulses through you, ice-cold and harrowing. You blink, and blink and blink and blink, and you think Roza might be saying your name, but you can only choke out another sob that grates against your throat, and then your legs are moving forward, stumbling out of the door.

“Az, wait!” You cry, but he’s already striding far into the distance. “Please!”

You try to move, but it’s like the snow is binding your ankles, grounding you firmly to the spot. You sob. Try to move. Fall. Get up. It’s cold and wet. You’re hurting. Everything’s hurting.

And somebody’s yelling — yelling at you.

“Hey!” You know the voice. It’s a voice you don’t like. But you can’t put a face to it until its owner is stopping in front of you, sneering at you. Lord Devlon. “What did I tell you about staying away from these parts, girl?”

You’re incapable of answering him. You’re not even looking at him. You just stare and stare in the direction that Az disappeared in, fat, hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m talking to you.” Devlon grabs your chin between his fingers, hard. “Insolent female—”

“Remove your hand from her face at once.”

He blinks at the sight of Roza stepping out of the cottage. Clearly, he had no clue she’d returned. And even he won’t speak out against the High Lord’s pregnant mate.

He drops his hand immediately.

Roza steps up to your side and narrows her gorgeous eyes at him. Her hand sits on her swollen belly. “Look at you, Lord Devlon — following orders like a good dog. Now, go on. Fuck off.”

There’s a slight twitch of a muscle as he clenches his jaw. He hates every second of it, but he obediently turns away from you.

“Oh — Lord Devlon?” Roza calls after him.

He stops. Turns. “Yes, lady?”

“I decide who can and cannot live in my house.” She stares him down. “That call is mine and mine alone. And if I hear of you giving Y/N any more trouble? I’ll rip your fucking throat out.”

She turns her back to him with utter dismissal. If you weren’t so devastated, you might laugh at his stunned expression.

But Roza sees the pain in your eyes, and she pulls you into her arms.

“Come, my love.” She murmurs  softly. “Let’s get you inside.”

az tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #shadowsinger x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel fic #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #acotar writing #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanon #acotar smut #acotar series #acotar fic #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #reader insert #illyrians #rhysand #cassian

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

Just Friends II | Han Jisung

Synopsis: The party may be over but for you and Jisung the fun isn't. In the dark confines of his room the real party starts.

Pairings: au Han Jisung x Female Reader

Content Warning: Heavy smut, Oral (F Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Fluff Ending.

Author's Note: This is a continuation of Just Friends. A part two was asked for so here it is. I hope this does part one justice. I tried lol. Please read part one before continuing so that you get more context.

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

The house is dark and quiet when you and Jisung stumble through the front door. Not just because of the party still coursing through your body but more so because you can't keep your hands to yourself now that you've gotten a taste of him. He seems to be just as desperate for your mouth as you are for his.

His hands, fuck. His strong hands are everywhere. Gripping your ass, sliding up and under your shirt to get rid of the damned thing that keeps him from seeing your body. The only time he pulls away from your lips is to lift your shirt over your head. Once the two of you are in his room he tosses it somewhere, where it landed, you couldn't care. You pull his face back down to yours, kissing him like you'd die if you didn't. He moans on your lips when your needy hands find their way into his hair and pulls on the soft strands. All the while his fingers make quick work at popping the clasps on your red lace bra and freeing your heavy breasts. When Jisung pulls away from you it's a miracle that you even let him.

“I wanna see you, y/n. I wanna see all of you. I need to.” He tells you. His voice is soft but there's a hint of something more to it. Something so dominating that you have to force yourself to not throw yourself on him.

Stepping back at arms length from you he admires your breast and he practically drools over how big they are. Bigger than he could've imagined seeing them free from their confines. God the amount of times he pumped himself into his fist at night in this very room to the thought of leaving hickies all over your tits.

“Damn I'd let you suffocate me with those babies.” He says and you let out a surprised laugh.

Yup he's still your goofy best friend. Still you're relieved at how nothing has changed between the pair of you. That was your main worry about acting on your feelings. All your worries now however are out the window. Right now you wished he'd just fucking touch you again. You're dying to see what he tastes like, dying to see if you can make him come undone with just your tongue. That would have to wait as Jisung seems to have other things on his mind.

Without warning, he’s leading you backwards until the edge of the bed is at the back of your knees and with a cocky smirk he pushes you backwards onto your ass. You let out a soft oof and he hovers over you chuckling. The way your tits jiggle is a beautiful sight to him and he can't wait to watch them bounce while you ride him into the mattress.

As if you can read his mind, you lick your lips and with your index finger you beckon him but he isn't about to let you have control, not just yet. He's a hungry man going through the midnight munchies and he's got his mind set on something sweet. The only thing that will satisfy his craving is the sweet nectar of your cunt. Jisung gets down between your legs and rips your jeans down off, flinging them into the darkness of his room.

The only light comes from the glow of the full moon through the crack of his black curtains. He unwraps you like a greedy kid unwrapping his first candy bar after a night of trick or treating. You're naked in his bed now and he's looking up at you with such an intense stare. Wide brown boba eyes look at you, his face getting closer and closer to your sore and sensitive sex, thanks to the pounding he gave you fifteen minutes ago. When he's within an inch of your pussy he can still see remnants of his cum inside of you but it doesn't stop him.

“Let me taste you y/n. God I just wanna drink you, devour this pussy until your legs are shaking and you're screaming my name.”

He doesn't wait for your response. Whatever he's seen on your face is all the answer he needs. His tongue is lapping you up and he's teasing you with his thumb in a soft circular motion. The movement reminds you of the days that you and he would be stuck in here playing video games. You'd almost always lose or die, getting so distracted by his hands. The veins and the way he'd flick his thumb over the joystick almost exactly like he's doing to your clit right now.

He's so good at it too that after a minute your head is dropping back onto the mattress and your lids go heavy. Jisungs arms wraps around your thighs lifting them up to rest on his shoulders as he fucks you with his tongue. Pushing it in and out of you, licking you and down like ice cream on a cone. He tears himself away from your heat but his thumb keeps the same rhythm alternating between pressure and no pressure.

“Mmm baby, this pussy tastes so good. Y/n I want you to cum on my tongue. Can you do that for me beautiful?”

“F- fuck Ji. If you keep doing what you're doing, then I'm going to cum right now.” You moan arching your back.

You hear him chuckle and his face disappears once again, diving his tongue past your folds and consumes you. He doesn't stop, not even as your legs are shaking around him and the growls leaving him vibrates through you, only to bring you to your climax sooner rather than later. Your moans get caught in your throat leaving you a panting and crying mess on his bed. As much as he wanted you to ride him, he knows there'll be other opportunities, right now his cock is aching for you. Besides he can watch your tits bounce while he fucks the shit out of you. Your cries almost made him cum right along with you right there on his bedroom floor.

Crawling up onto the bed with you and keeping your legs right where they are, he slips his cock inside you while your body is still going through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Ah, Jisung.” You whine and gasp underneath him, the pressure feels so intense. He feels deeper this way and you feel fuller.

He takes the hem of his shirt in between his teeth and mumbles curses in both Korean and English biting down on the material hard. Just looking at you, so dazed and so thoroughly fucked is like one of his fantasies come to life. He just wants to cum inside you over and over all night. Eventually though, you'll leave his bed and if you two fuck again after tonight, when all logical thinking returns, he won't get to feel you how soft your walls are when they squeeze his cock again. It's why he's trying so damn hard to not cum right now.

He slows down, taking your legs and wraps them around his waist. Leaning down into you he takes one of your aching hard nipples in his mouth sucking and biting down gently and slowly fucks you. Pulling all the way out of you leaving just the tip in, he fucks you like that. Slow and never going more than an inch inside of your cunt while he edges the both of you. When he finally gives you every inch of him again, it's so sudden that you moan louder than you intended. You've tried to be quiet only so that Jisung's nosey neighbors don't over hear you two but fuck… He feels so incredible inside of you.

“Ji… oh God! I'm going to cum, babe. Faster please. Fuck me faster.” You beg.

He can't say no to you, not his sexy girl. He was dying for you to cum again so he could fill your pussy anyway. Resting one hand on the wall and the other beside your head he steadies himself and moves as fast as he can. His thrusts are frenzied, erratic, even a little crazed but he pounds the head of his cock into the sweet spot that has you seeing stars and leaving scratches all down his chest calling his name out over and over.

“Yeah that's my baby. Fuck, I love the way your pussy feels when you cum around me y/n. Ah, gonna fill you up y/n. Fuuuuck!”

His final thrust is so hard, you’re certain he bruised your cervix. It hurts so good and you can feel it when he shoots his seed inside of you. You watch his face as he shoots ropes after ropes of cum inside your throbbing cunt as it contracts around him. This beautiful pained expression on his face as he bites down on his bottom lip. His brows furrowed and his small perfect pink lips part letting his moans and huffs out. As his breathing slows you reach a hand up, brushing his dark hair away from his sweaty forehead. Opening his eyes he smiles shyly, pecking you on the lips, still buried inside of you.

He doesn't want to move, he can't, not until he has to, he wants you again and again. He wants to take his time with you. But time isn't on either side of yours tonight. His parents would be home soon and you needed to be out of there before you two get caught, quite literally with your pants down. Slow kisses however, only stirs up things and Jisung is moving again.

He takes his time like he wanted, fucking you slowly, a lazy pace almost as if he’s making love to you. Your bodies are pressed so close together but it's not enough for him. Jisung wraps you up into his arms, holding you closer, hugging you tighter, moving in and out. Pushing inside of your sloping wet cunt as far as he can. His cum, still warm inside of you, only makes things more slippery, easier to move inside of you with barely any effort.

You feel your third orgasm building up inside of you. Starting from your legs, moving up and up until you come crashing down. Your moans are lost in his kisses this time and when he cums his entire body shakes. Sex with Jisung this way, you feel pleasure all over. He sighs looking down at you and for a second he just holds your stare. Very quietly he whispers, “I love you y/n. Always have since you kicked my ass in dodgeball in middle school.”

When you giggle he groans, feeling your body shake while he's still inside you. His cock is far too sensitive to pull out just yet.

“I love you too Jisung.” You whisper, “Now pull out so we can change your sheets before your parents get home. We've made a mess.”

He chuckles doing what you asked but he doesn't let you go far. He hasn't let you go far since and now as his wife, there's no way in hell that he will ever let you go.

The End♡

#han jisung #han jisung imagines #han x reader #han smut #han jisung fanfic #han jisung fanfiction #han jisung hard hours #han jisung hard thoughts #han jisung oneshot #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #han jisung fluff #stray kids han #han jisung drabbles #skz han #stray kids smut #skz smut

[kingtomura]

Lessons

TW: dark content!!, yandere!shigaraki tomura x female reader, noncon/dubcon, implied kidnapping, degradation, humiliation, begging, anal fingering, piv, tomura is mean, mdni. wc: 2k Synopsis: Tomura thinks it’s time you learned an important lesson.

"I got something for you today."

Here he goes again, you think as you watch Shigaraki place a white plastic bag onto his desk. It’s hard to fight the roll of your eyes, but you do. He’s been in a mood lately and you don’t want to push your luck more than you have. 

It’s become routine, you and him. 

He gets too close, you tell him off. It surprises you that he actually listens and instills some kind of confidence in yourself — in your words. Maybe you have more power over the situation than you thought. 

The rustle of the bag catches your attention and you watch as he pulls out a few things. An energy drink, a small box of what looks like bandages and a small bottle of clear liquid. 

Your brows raise, interest piqued and you sit up a little straighter to see better. 

“What do you—?”

He holds the bottle up and your face scrunches in confusion. His smile is one that sends chills up your spine and you have to will yourself to stop being antsy. 

“Lube. It’s for you!” He says like it’s a birthday gift you’ve waited all year for. “You’ve been so… mouthy lately, I’ve decided to give you something to mouth off about. Won’t that be fun?” 

The question is rhetorical and you no longer fight your antsy movements. Rushing to your feet and taking a pointed step away from Shigaraki, your eyes narrow, “what are you talking about?” You’ve never had to use lube. He’s just taken what he’s wanted and your body adjusts every time — as much as you hated it. 

He places the lube back onto the desk and grabs his energy drink, cracking the can open and taking a sip of the sugary sweet soda. He was calm, patient — eerily so. 

After he’s had his fill of the drink, Shigaraki looks to you and nods his head in the direction of the bed. “Get on it.”

Your heart felt like it would pound out of your chest as you held your hands up to the man before you. “Wait, Tomura, we can—!”

“Oh?” He cuts you off, voice lifted and mockingly playful, “I’m Tomura now? But you were so comfortable calling me shigaraki.” 

He places his drink can back on the desk and fully turns toward you. “I didn’t stutter. Get on the fucking bed.” 

You knew his patience was wearing thin, but you still had to try. Taking a shaky breath, you get onto the bed, sitting down on the edge of it. 

“On your hands and knees.” 

Your blood ran cold, and you tried once more, searching your brain for any sweet words that could placate him. Desperate to find something, anything he would like to hear from you, “please—“

He’s in front of you before you can blink, large hand grabbing your face and pressing your cheeks together, “I’m done playing these games with you,” you can smell the sugar from the drink on his breath as your breathing picks up, pricks of panic lacing your body.

Shigaraki crashed his lips into yours, wasting no time slipping his tongue into your wet mouth. The taste of sweet energy drink was nauseating but you kissed back in fear of what he would do if he didn’t. You’ve exhausted all options and you knew, deep down that anything more would only make things worse. 

He pulls away, a trail of saliva following as he meets your eyes — and god, his smile. He’s giddy like a kid on Christmas and you regret every act of defiance you’ve made against him these past few weeks. 

“Cute.” Was the only word he gave before you were being manhandled onto your stomach, face in the pillows and ass in the air. 

“You know,” he muses, pressing his clothed erection to your panties, “I’m starting to think you want this. You want to see me angry so I can put you in your place.” 

He backs away to pull your underwear down in one swift movement, making you reach back to attempt to cover yourself. This only irritates him more as he grabs your wrist and pins your arm behind your back. The angle is as painful as it is uncomfortable. 

You hear him shuffling around behind you, no doubt one free hand of his own making things more difficult — and you take small pleasure in that. It’s short lived though as he seems to find what he’s looking for and you brace yourself for the inevitable. 

There’s the pop of a cap and then smooth cold liquid dripping down your backside and over your hole that makes you shiver. You feel frozen as the liquid trails lower and lower until it’s past the heat of your cunt. 

All it takes is the press of a finger to get you putting up a fight once more. there was no way he was really doing this. He’s never tried this. 

“I shouldn’t even prep you, honestly,” he mutters and you wince as one of his digits slowly push past the ring of muscle. “You’ve been so defiant. You really need to learn some manners.” 

The tears streaming from your eyes are making the pillow below you damp and cold, but you can only sniff in response. “Tomura, please—“

“Please what?” He sinks the finger deeper and you can’t hold back your yelp of pain. 

You shake your head as much as you can, “please stop! It hurts..” 

He pulls out suddenly and you think he’s actually going to listen — that he’s actually done torturing you until-

A hand swings down and slaps your ass, making you cry out. He imitates a buzzer sound before gripping the fat of your bottom, “wrong answer!” 

You thrash more as panic wells up inside when you feel the prodding of two fingers instead of one against your hole. “You know, this is supposed to be your punishment,” both won’t fit and he resorts to only letting one finger penetrate, his other hand massaging the cheek of your behind. “But I’m afraid you may like this too much.”

He is delusional. Shigaraki is the one that’s having the time of his life watching you suffer and writhe. You try to pull forward and away but the hand that was massaging your ass is now grabbing your hip and holding you in place. Your cry is loud as you feel the pressure of another finger join the first and shigaraki wastes no time pumping the digits in and out of your hole. 

You think your crying and begging falls on deaf ears — forcing you to accept the inevitable and you find yourself wishing you were anywhere else but here. You could be dropped off in the middle of the Sahara Desert during a summer heatwave and it would still be miles better than this hellhole. 

Just when you’re about to surrender to your fate and stop fighting it, shigaraki speaks again, “Since I’m so kind and understanding, I’ll give you a choice.” it’s like he sensed you were on the verge of checking out. That would just be too easy. “Which hole do you want me in? Hm? Tell me.” 

He’s gripping your hip tighter and you know there will be bruises formed but your mind could  only focus on this awful option. 

You don’t want him in either. The idea of having to tell him which way to violate you only made you nauseous. But you knew that you had to make a choice because it was always worse when he made one for you. 

“M-my..” you feel sick, swallowing your shame and squeezing your eyes shut as you continue, “I want you in my.. pussy.” 

You could practically hear the smile in Shigaraki's voice, “yeah? Beg for it.” 

He wanted to humiliate you, this was the real punishment. To build you up, give you a false sense of security only to break you down even more. He was sick. 

But you were sicker because you did exactly as you were told. 

“Tomura, please. Please fuck me.” You turned your head, as if you could hide your shame into the pillow below you, “I need you.” 

“Atta girl.” He praises, pulling his fingers out and you sigh in relief, nerves calming and shoulders relaxing. You almost melt into the sheets until you feel the pressure of shigaraki’s erection against your cunt. The lube is there and making things wetter than usual but the squeeze will still be uncomfortable. 

You look back, worry lacing your features, “wait, Tomura—“ but you don’t have a chance to finish, he pushes into you, girth stretching you and making your toes curl in an odd combination of pleasure and discomfort. 

Shigaraki lets out a sigh of relief, rocking his hips at a steady pace before leaning over you. “Fuck, that’s good.” The hand gripping your hip moves to cup your breast, tweaking the sensitive nub between his thumb and forefinger. 

This was familiar, this was easy. It was not uncharted territory and it was something you could convince yourself was okay. Normal, even.

“Mine, mine, you’re all mine” he babbles into your ear and you don’t turn away, terrified he’ll go back on his words if you do. 

His pace is picking up and you find yourself getting lost in the motions. His body rocking against yours as he changes the angle and oh—

He hits the spot inside and you can’t stop yourself from moaning out. It’s sensitive and it makes your back arch with every deep stroke. 

“Fuckin’ slut, I knew you’d like this.” He mutters, circling his thumb around your unoccupied hole, the lube making it slide with ease, before pressing into the tightness. The pain is dull and the pressure of being filled so much almost sends you over, dragging a whine from the back of your throat. 

The bed shakes from the force of Shigaraki’s thrusts and you feel heat pool in your lower abdomen. You were so close and you hated it. Hated him. But when you felt his warm hand move from your breast, down your stomach until it was splayed out over your cunt — pinkie finger lifted and middle finger brushing your clit with every thrust. 

You were beginning to feel dizzy with pleasure and your head fell onto the pillow, hands gripping the sheets below to anchor yourself as you got lost in the feelings. It was overwhelming and you couldn’t bite back your cries and Shigaraki’s thrusts became erratic, he was close too. 

All it took was one more thrust to sweep you over the edge, eyes rolling back as your thighs shook — orgasm claiming you.

“Oh, fuck.” Shigaraki breathed, stilling as his own waves of pleasure overcame him. You barely registered the pulse of his cock as he came deep inside of you. 

You both try to catch your breath, time seeming to still as you panted. Shigaraki was the first to move, you felt him pull out and pause — no doubt watching his cum drip from your cunt — before taking his place next to you on the bed. 

The quiet of the room is deafening and your eyelids feel heavy. You’re as still as a mouse, not wanting to stir and risk him starting up again, but his eyes are already closed. You almost think he’s asleep before he speaks again. 

“Next time,” he starts, stretching before sitting up, “I won’t be so kind. So you should clean up your nasty attitude.”

You nod, dread weighing down your efforts. There wouldn’t be a next time, if you could help it. Regrettably, you tremble at the thought as you realize this is the exact lesson he was trying to teach you.

#yandere shigaraki #yandere shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura #tw yandere #tw noncon #dark content #dead dove do not eat #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere tomura shigaraki #my works

[lokisgoodgirl]

The Quickie [Loki x Fem.Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: You and Avenger! Loki escape a work event for something more entertaining. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Language. Dirty talk. Dom!/Switch. Friends w/ Benefits. Squirting (w/c 2.1k)

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the hotel room mirror, cheeks flushed and hair mussed. "They'll be wondering where we are," you panted, as Loki walked you backwards.

“What was I supposed to do when you look like this?” Loki snarled, unbuttoning your flimsy blouse with unnatural speed. Saliva glistened on his chin, red lipstick rubbed in ombre smears against alabaster skin. “Wait?”

He had marched you from the downstairs Expo in full ceremonial battle leathers. Desperate kisses and moans and wandering hands had made the elevator feel more like a dive bar. Your bare cheeks had pressed against the glass as your skirt rode up, grinding against his hips while you hung on to the horns of his helmet. You gasped as your back met the wall, a thumb tilting your head back while he smouldered through half-lidded eyes. His headpiece glimmered in the low lighting, the gilded formality making your knees wobble. The god moaned darkly, one hand slipping between your legs, eyelids batting closed as dexterous fingers played over your soaking slit. “I knew you weren’t wearing anything under here. Knew it,” he groaned, bending forward with one bulging forearm pressed against the wall. The leather creaked. And you were sure you heard the plaster crack. His lips were an inch from yours, the sudden pause in his seductions reminding you of the moment before the predator makes its final, lethal, lunge. Hot breath flooded your nostrils, sweet and heavy with desire. Your fingers toyed with the side-zip of your skirt, raising your sultry gaze to meet his. “There she is, my good girl,” he rasped, as the fabric fell around your ankles. Biting your lip, you let your hands wander up the flat expanse of his triangular chest from the nipped waist to his shoulders. The leather was snug to every angle of his body, a vicious unit of power and sexual devastation wrapped in pure temptation. Just for you. You had learned that fucking Loki Laufeyson was like riding a bull. A girl needed to take control and harness the beast or risk being thrown off and trampled in the dirt. And to be frank, you weren’t sure how much of that was metaphorical. Without breaking eye-contact, you laced his fingers through yours. They were wet. “Come on,” you whispered, enjoying the narrow of his eyes and the clench of his jaw as he fought to contain a smile. On the way to the bedroom, you kicked off your heels. You turned, seductive demeanour turning to a frown. He was naked. “What happened to the-” “-Leather?” Loki cut. “You said it yourself darling, they’ll be wondering where we are,” he purred sarcastically. “And you far take too long undressing me.” His hand ran up your spine, tugging the blouse off with gentle precision. In one fluid motion, he knelt one knee on the bed, sweeping you to lie on your back. “Such a pretty tease, aren’t you?” he goaded, running his knuckles between your breasts. You shivered, feeling yourself melt within the burning pools of his darkened eyes.

The thick ropes of muscle layering his shoulders shifted as he leant over you, the slide of his hand up your bare thigh culminating in a brutal squeeze of your ass. Loki's immaculate cock twitched between his legs, a solitary pearl of wetness lingering tantalisingly at the crease. A macabre smile stretched on his lips, seeing your stare linger on his manhood as it always did.

“I often wonder if you wish to fuck me as often as I wish to fuck you,” he pondered casually as you shuffled backwards to the centre of the mattress. Loki stalked closer on all fours like a beast, his gigantic frame covering you in a cage of muscled, marble eroticism. Your legs widened, knees bent to the ceiling as he took up position between your spread thighs. Loki’s biceps strained under his weight as he lowered his face to yours, the veins taut and thick. And hard. Long tendrils of ebony hair caught against your lips. He sucked your earlobe, releasing it with a wet, licentious sigh. “But then I remember,” he continued smugly, “how you sound when I do...this-”

With a soft exhale of relief, his cock breached your soaking slit. On cue, your back arched in welcome; a melodic gasp of pleasure filling the air. Loki’s lips parted in a silent chuckle, hungry eyes flitting over every inch of your desperately horny features contorted with pleasure. “Ah, my faithful godslut,” he cooed, slurring while he bottoming out with a solid thrust that knocked you back several inches. “Always ready and willing to swallow what I have to give, in any hole...isn’t that right, darling?” You bucked violently against him in protest, pelvic bones thudding. Loki pursed his lips, a silent ooo searing the air while he clenched to deliver another earth-shuddering thrust. Your fingers scraped back his loose hair, letting one hand settle at the base of his scalp. With a sharp tug to the right, he rolled on his back with a guttural groan. His perfect cock’s brief absence was a torture, but a necessary one. Cheeky shit needs a reminder of who he’s talking to, you grit; straddling him and leveraging him back where he belonged. Loki’s huge hands gravitated to your breasts, palms ready to massage upwards with every targeted pump of his ass. You grabbed his exposed wrists, pushing them above his head to the pillow. “I think you’re forgetting something, Laufeyson…” you panted, clenching your cunt teasingly around the tip. Loki frowned, face screwed up at the delicious mischief in which he found himself. “Sure – I take what you give. But you only give what I want,” you sneered. His thick thighs jolted as you began to inch slowly down his shaft, feeling every protruding vein catch on the sensitive rim of your pussy. You smiled, watching him squirm against the mattress. “So just remember who’s really in control here, yeah?”

At your words he let loose a rattling sigh, feigning an escape against the hands gripping his wrists. With every achingly slow movement, the sinews of his neck bulged. His teeth, gritted. God, it was heaven. Breathy pants rumbled from his throat as you increased your speed, slamming back to his pelvis with every waving buck of your hips. “N-norns, kvinne du...avslutter m-meg, uhh-fu-ck,” he stammered, eyes rolling to the ceiling. Your hands slid down the bulge of his forearms, smile twitching. “The end of you, huh? My, my. It doesn’t take much to topple a god after all, then.”

Loki’s freed hands flew to your hips with a snarl, beginning to bounce you mercilessly on his cock. Air puffed from your lungs with every flick of his muscular hips, spread knees bent to the ceiling buffeting you higher; caught only by his iron grasp. The wet of your sex coated his length, sticky threads tangling in invisible strands from your heat to his pubic hair. Your fingernails scraped down his chest, making him hiss. They would mark. Loki snarled again, deep and low and primal as you slapped together. God, he looked so fucking mean. And so fucking sexy. “Just like that. Like that,” he growled with fiery madness. The squeeze of your muscles around his length with every dip of his ridden prick made you squelch. In the bright light of morning-afters, your trysts were nothing. A distraction. A way to pass the time. But at moments like this, in the heat and sweat and filth of erotic battle; the way the two of your moved as one. It was everything. Loki’s jaw hung open, his tongue twitching. His beautiful eyes were closed, proud brow creased as he lost himself inside you. Your clit ground against his pelvis with every shallow edge of his hips, cock pulsing rhythmically against the swollen bundle deep within. The god’s fingers slid possessively around the curve of your ass, the tips digging dangerously into soft flesh. You expected that tomorrow you would be painted once again in the purple and blue hallmarks of his affections. You hoped you would be. Your head fell back, spilling his name to the ceiling as you felt your cunt spasm with pleasure. “Baby,” you gasped, “F-fuck, baby – yes!-” You choked as the world was flipped upside down. Your back landed with a soft thump on the hotel mattress. Loki wasted no time in seating himself between your spread thighs, sinking home inside your sopping cunt with a ragged, cursing moan. “Don’t call me that,” he warned, eyes flashing. You batted your lashes in feigned innocence, trying to hide a smirk. “Don’t call you ‘baby’? Why?” you goaded, before Loki’s tongue jammed inside your mouth, shutting you up. He began to move in pulsating waves, heavy groans on both sides echoing between your open mouths. With a rasping grunt, he began to thumb your clit as he railed you, every powerful rut of his cock pushing you closer to the headboard. Loki’s hair swung around his jawline, glistening sweat misting his brow as his breaths became short. “Close. Going to c-come,” he growled, eloquence forgotten. Your fingernails scratched deep between his shoulder-blades, the warrior muscles tense and primal. “N-not before me, you’re not-” you gasped, bucking upwards. Loki snarled, pushing your knees towards your chin in malicious compliance. “Oh, god,” you howled, the new angle rubbing his thick tip directly against your g-spot. A sudden urge washed over you, the utter inexplicable, unstoppable need to wet yourself cracking through every tingling nerve in your body. You were going to squirt. Hard.

“Loki-” you gaped, arching upwards as he littered the air with dirty praise. The urge was becoming unbearable. Unstoppable, as his cock massaged your most primal centre. “Do it, pretty kvinne,” he spat, panting while a delicate strand of saliva clung to his chin. Dangling. “I can feel it, I want it-” The vein in his forehead bulged as his breaths grew short. “Make a mess, let yourself go, f-fuck min dårlige j-jente.” Orgasm flooded your veins as you squirted around his cock with a strangled cry, welling against your bodies. A scream erupted, forceful ecstasy howling like wind tunnel through your veins. You could feel the ferocity of your arousal swell around his girth, sheer galactic power soldering your bodies together in a swamp of pure sex. Thin liquid washed down your thighs, spreading warm and wild with his continuing shallow rocks against your mound. Loki followed with a thundering moan of your name, the mass of muscle above you shaking and spasming through his climax. Your mess dripped down his legs, smeared against his lower stomach as he rode his release with staggered, choked breaths.

He collapsed on top of you, bulging forearms in a protective triangle above your head before falling to the side.

Watching him breathing for a few seconds, you drew a lazy finger across the tip of his softening cock, collecting a thick trail of fresh cum. You sucked it from your finger, pausing for effect as Loki inevitably opened one eye to watch. He cleared his throat. “That was...relatively pleasing.” You smacked his shoulder. Loki smiled, before his features hardened the way they always did when duty beckoned. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Come, get dressed,” he sniffed.

“I’ll wait here, thanks. You have a better room.” You scooted back against the cushions, crossing your legs and reaching for the remote on the night-stand.

“You will not,” Loki huffed. Your eyebrows rose in reluctant appreciation as leather armour furled over his carved, glistening body, wrapping against his skin like a needy lover. “What’s the problem?” you smiled innocently, while the news channel sprung to life.

His stare cindered into your profile like cigarettes on tissue as you continued, looking ahead. “-you’re going to drag me up here in twenty minutes anyway, when you’re hard because I’ve sucked a straw or something-” “-I’ll be bored. I won’t have anyone to talk to.” Loki scoffed. The petulance was tangible. It was your turn to roll your eyes. “There are like, five hundred people downstairs. You’re a star, everyone wants to talk to-” “-Alright, no one I want to talk to,” Loki snapped, folding his arms. There was silence between you except for the irritating tap of one of his boots on the wooden floor. Wordlessly you turned off the TV, making a regal grasping gesture in the air. The god sighed in resignation, before kneeling to retrieve your discarded blouse. He turned on his knee, holding it aloft to your outstretched hand in a tableau that was almost gallant.

“Are we going to pretend that you didn’t just admit that you actually like me?” you smirked.

Loki frowned, rising to his full height. “I did no such-” You pressed a finger to his parted lips, widening the digits of the other hand against his cock still thick and delicious beneath the leather. “Okay, baby” you hummed, squeezing. His brows slanted, breath hitching as you grazed his lips with yours. “Whatever you say.”

Rough Norwegian kvinne du avslutter meg – woman, you’ll end me min dårlige j-jente – my bad girl

Tags (cont'd in comments) @meowmeow-motherfucker @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @kats72 @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @glitchquake @lokischambermaid @loopsisloops

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki x you #loki x yn #avenger loki #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x reader smut #loki marvel #loki x female reader #loki odinson #loki imagine #loki gif #loki x yn smut #loki x you smut #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x reader smut

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

Limerence

Content Includes: Bang Chan x sub!fem reader, shower sex, praise, a lot of angst, comfort sex , established relationship, needy and clingy Bang Chan,  Chan is in his feels, 18+, it’s soft but deep in emotion. 

Word Count: 450

It scared Chan with how much he loved you. 

It was suffocating, it consumed him and he just didn’t want to fucking STOP. 

Life was tough. Things were rough and work was exhausting. 

When you suggested having a shower together, just to BE together for a small amount of time, his skin shivered with need and chest ached with desire. 

Firm hands gripped your hips tightly as he felt your hands on his chest, the scent of pomegranate filling the air as you washed him. 

You were so attentive, so giving despite the heaviness in your eyes and it caused Chan’s heart to burst with overwhelming care and yearning, his jaw clenched and eyes sharp. 

‘God, I need you. ‘ 

His voice sounded fractured at the end, like he had just revealed something that was locked in the confines in his soul. 

Your hands gracefully stopped and laid still on his arms, looking up at him and noticing the darkness in his gaze, his eyes showed what his body and words could hide. 

Chan was longing for you, he missed you and there was a craving amongst his stare. 

‘You have me baby’ 

You reassured him, softening your voice and offering a small smile. 

‘You have me’. 

A step towards you and your back was pressed against the wall, hands cupping your face and his lips against your temple. 

‘I know…but it’s not enough’. 

The steam of the shower filled the space as Chan’s face was buried in your neck, his teeth marking your skin and his cock firm and hard inside of you, leg wrapped around his hip and your free hand laced in his hair. 

‘I love you, fuck I need you so much’. 

His muscles were tight and veins prominent as he thrusted upwards, his hips snapping so aggressively you slid upwards, his body shaking against yours, you probably would have slipped by now if Chan wasn’t completely supporting your weight against him. 

‘I can’t cope-’ His voice cracked, tears in his eyes.

‘I can’t cope if you’re not here’. 

All the hidden thoughts and feelings rushed to the surface, repressed vulnerability and honesty pooling on the tip of his tongue. 

‘I need you with me just so I can fucking breathe’. 

He moved his hand to your thigh, lifting it higher and widening the angle, his cock hitting deeper and his pacing to stagger, moving more quickly as he was reaching his peak. 

‘I love you so much it hurts baby’ 

He kissed you deeply, pouring his heart and soul into your body with his tongue and mouth, pressing himself against you more so you truly were skin-to-skin. 

‘I can’t stop…and I don’t want to.’

Author Commentary: I got my period and I was in my feels and Chan fics are my comfort go-to’s. And then I just had a thought about how Chan’s natal chart indicates he could ‘lose himself’ in his partner and then I wrote this. 

And I fucking loved writing this because these angsty, comforting pieces are what fill my romantic and cynical heart.

Taglist: @hipster-shiz @creativechaoticloner @cherry-0420 @umbralhelwolf @scuzmunkie @marievllr-abg @starsareseen @lino-jagiyaa @mischiefsmind @mrcarrots @craxy-person @junieshohoho @partywithgyu @whatsk-poppinhomies @hologramhoneymoon @gyuhanniescarat @staytinyinmybpack @sensitiveandhungry @necessiteez @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @berryberrytan @laylasbunbunny @bangchanbabygirlx @i-love-ateez @anyamaris @lemonhongjoong @krishastumblernow @hexheathen @michel-angelhoe @northerngalxy @lyramundana @daddysspecialdollyworld

#stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids hard hours #skz hard hours #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #bang chan imagines #stray kids angst #skz angst #bang chan angst #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #bang chan fluff #bang chan x you #bang chan scenarios

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 20 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When you call and ask him for help, Bradley is more than willing to jump into action. But when he picks up Everett and confronts Danny, he is shocked by what he finds. And while you know you can trust Bradley now, you also realize there are some battles you need to fight for yourself.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, swearing, mentions of marijuana use

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Bradley was sitting out on his tiny balcony, about to crack open a beer when Molly called him. She had been sending him pictures for the past hour of the two of you at some wine event, and you were both definitely looking a bit tipsy.

"Hey, Molly. You two having fun?"

"Bradley!" It was you. And he could tell immediately that something had you upset.

"Kitten? What's wrong?" 

The sound of you sobbing softly met his ear, and he was out of his chair and heading inside immediately. "I need your help."

"What do you need, baby?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm, but now he was worried. He could hear Molly talking calmly in the background while he waited for you to respond. 

"I hate to ask you to do this, but Molly and I are kind of drunk. Can you go pick Everett up for me?"

Bradley was grabbing his shoes and tying the laces before the full sentence was out of your mouth. "From Danny's?" he asked, and he had such a bad feeling. It was still a couple hours before you and Molly were supposed to even be back in the city, but you sounded distraught. 

"Yeah," you said softly. "He's at Danny's."

"I'll go get him now," he said, grabbing his key ring and spotting your house key there. "Text me his address."

"Oh my god, thank you so much," you gushed. "I'll owe you dinner-"

"Baby," he said, propping his phone between his ear and his shoulder. "You don't owe me anything. I'm happy to do it."

But you still whispered a soft, "Thank you."

"Do you want me to bring him back to my apartment? Or take him to your house?"

"Either one," you replied. "I'll try to reach Danny and let him know you're going to pick Ev up."

"Sounds good," Bradley replied, and you ended the call as he was starting the Bronco. And then he began to feel like everything wasn't adding up. You wanted him to pick Everett up, but Danny didn't know about it? 

You texted the address, and he entered it into his GPS without giving it much more thought. If you wanted him to pick up Everett, he would do it. His eyes settled on the booster seat in the back as he pulled out of his parking space, and he got on the highway to Mission Beach. 

Danny lived on a very nice street which surprised Bradley, because you had told him Everett's dad claimed he couldn't afford to pay any child support. "Fucking asshole," he muttered, putting the Bronco in park outside of the address you had sent to him. At least he probably wouldn't have to chat with Danny too much. He could just get Everett and get out. 

Bradley adjusted his backward Phillies cap and squared his shoulders before he knocked on the door. And to his surprise, Everett threw the door wide open a second later, looking thoroughly upset. 

"Coach!" And then Everett had his arms wrapped around Bradley's waist, and he was immediately hit with the smell of marijuana. Bradley wrapped a protective arm around Everett and rubbed his back. "Can you take me home?"

"Yeah," Bradley grunted, pushing the door open all the way and looking inside. "Where's your dad, Kiddo?" he managed to ask in a very calm voice, when really he just wanted to rip the door off the hinges. 

"In his room with Tori. I tried to knock, but they didn't hear me."

Bradley saw an ipad on the couch next to Everett's baseball backpack and some snack bags. "Okay. Yeah. Go grab your stuff and I'll take you home." His blood was boiling as he watched Everett swipe everything off the couch and into the bag and come running back over. Bradley took his small hand and closed the door quietly. 

Then he led Everett out to the Bronco without a word between them. Bradley knew as soon as he spoke, he was going to blow up. So he helped Everett get into the Bronco and get buckled in. And then he rolled the window down a few inches as he whispered calmly, "You stay here for just a minute, okay?" Everett nodded at him, eyes wide. This child wasn't stupid, he knew something was going on, and Bradley didn't want to upset him further. 

"Okay," Everett whispered. Bradley kissed the top of his head and locked him inside the Bronco. He would make this quick. 

Bradley's breaths were coming short and shallow as he could feel the rage flowing through his body. Either you didn't know Danny was smoking with Everett there, or for some reason you didn't mention it. Maybe you suspected something, or maybe Everett had called you on his own. Regardless, you were away and drunk, and you had trusted Bradley to take care of this situation for you. He honestly loved that you asked him for help; he would do anything for Everett. 

But there was no way he could leave without taking care of the rest of this for you whether you asked him to or not. He glanced back at Everett sitting in the car, and then he made a fist and pounded on the door until Danny started calling out, "Hang on!"

Bradley kept his hand in that tight fist as the door opened to reveal Danny who was very clearly stoned and standing next to a young woman in a tee shirt and underwear. "What the fuck do you want?" Danny asked, looking at Bradley closely for a few seconds. "Wait. Are you that tee ball coach?"

"Where's your son?" Bradley asked, clenching his right hand tighter, practically shaking with the urge to level your ex husband. "Where's Everett?" Bradley asked, trying so hard to keep his voice calm, but he could see Danny flinch. 

"Huh?" he asked, turning around and looking at the living room and kitchen. 

"Come on, Danny. Where is he? Are you so stoned you can't figure it out?" Bradley asked, his volume rising with each word. He watched the woman reach out for Danny who was looking very confused now.

"He's here somewhere," Danny muttered, clearly more interested in sex and weed than his own kid. Bradley stepped inside the house and shoved him.

"He's not here, asshole. He's in my fucking car!"

"Get the fuck out of my house," Danny said, staggering backwards as Bradley shoved him again. 

"I took your kid from your house without any issue, which you'd know if you were fucking paying attention to him instead of using drugs! In front of a six year old!" Bradley had him by the shirt collar now. 

"Do you want me to have you arrested for kidnapping?" Danny sputtered, and Bradley laughed right in his face.

"You want to call the police? Go ahead. Please do. I have permission from his mom to pick him up here. Do you have permission from his mom to smoke pot around him? You're house fucking reeks."

The woman took a step away and said, "I'll call the police."

"No! Tori, do not call the police!" Danny yelled at her as Bradley shook him until Danny met his eyes.

"Let her call," he said, much calmer now. "I'm sure they'd love to know all about this." He shoved Danny back against the wall and let go of his shirt.

"Get the fuck out of my house," Danny said more forecefully, but his eyes were still glassy and unfocused. 

"No," Bradley replied, glancing back out to make sure Everett was okay. "I'm not done yet, you piece of shit."

"Well then finish up and leave," Danny managed through clenched teeth, and Bradley thought he'd never seen someone so cowardly in his life. 

Bradley jabbed his index finger into Danny's chest until he knew it would bruise. "You don't deserve that kid, and you never did. And you better give his mom whatever she asks for, because she has been picking up your slack for years, you worthless motherfucker."

With one more glance around the house, Bradley stormed out and headed down the sidewalk back to Everett. He heard the front door slam behind him, and he had to roll his shoulders and count slowly to ten to get control of himself. He swallowed hard before he unlocked the driver's door and let himself inside the stuffy Bronco. He turned around and smiled at Everett who still looked confused and scared. 

"You hungry, Kiddo? It's almost dinner time." Everett nodded silently. "How about a Happy Meal?"

"Okay. Chicken nuggets, please," he said, and Bradley was relieved he was talking again. 

"You truly are a kid after my own heart," Bradley told him as he started the engine. He quickly texted both you and Molly and let you know he had Everett and that he'd take him to your house after stopping at McDonald's. 

"Hey, Coach?" Everett asked softly as Bradley pulled away from the curb.

"Yeah, Kiddo?"

After a beat of silence he said, "Will you tell my mom I don't want to go back to my dad's house anymore?"

Bradley could feel tears burning the backs of his eyes. Danny had the opportunity to be a dad, but he didn't want it. But as far as Carole had ever told Bradley, Nick had been so happy to be a father, it made it that much harder for them to lose him when Bradley was young. Some things were so unfair, Bradley couldn't properly put them into words. But you had to know by this point that you couldn't force Danny to do something he didn't want to do. He just didn't want to love Everett. The most lovable kid. 

"Yeah," Bradley said, his voice sounding raspy to his own ears. "I'll talk to your mom later, okay? Let's go get some chicken nuggets."

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

Molly made you walk around the vineyard for a full hour before she would let either of you near your car. And then she insisted on being the one to drive back to the city. 

Bradley had texted you to let you know that he had Everett with him, and that they would be waiting at your house. But now you were sitting in a silent car with Molly while she gripped the steering wheel. There was so much traffic, it would probably be an extra hour before you got home. 

Eventually, as you wiped more tears from your eyes, Molly asked, "Do you think he was smoking weed around Ev?"

"I don't know," you whispered. "I'm too afraid to ask Bradley what happened. I think I just need to hear everything all at once instead of texting him for bits of information." 

"Makes sense," she replied. "But I swear, I'll happily kill Danny with my bare hands. You just say the word, okay?"

You nodded silently, and looked at your phone for the hundredth time. Bradley had texted you a picture of him and Everett eating Happy Meals at your kitchen island an hour ago.

Bradley Bradshaw: We are bummed we got duplicate toys. But we are just fine. See you when you get here.

They seemed happy enough in the photo, so you kept looking at it while Molly tried to navigate through all the traffic. "Come on," she groaned, honking at someone who tried to cut her off. "What the fuck."

When she finally pulled into your driveway next to the Bronco, it was getting pretty dark, and you were out of the car before she had even parked. You ran up to the front door and jammed your key in the lock, shouldering the door open. 

But what you saw had you frozen in place, like the wind had been knocked out of you. You could hear Molly coming up the porch steps, so you signalled for her to be quiet. Then you stepped fully into your living room which Everett and Bradley had turned into a gigantic pillow and blanket fort. 

The TV was on, softly playing the end credits of Toy Story, and you had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep from laughing or crying. Because the two of them were sound asleep amongst the pillows on the floor underneath one of your fleece blankets that was stretched from the couch and over the coffee table like a tent. Bradley was laying on his back with Everett curled up against his right side, and you thought you were going to melt into a puddle. 

"Oh my god," Molly whispered, closing your front door softly and coming to stand next to you. "You need to marry him."

You had to stifle your laugh as tears filled your eyes. Bradley had taken care of everything. Sure, it was going to take you an hour to clean up this elaborate fort, but you didn't care at all. As you set your bag down and took your shoes off, Molly peeked out the front window. 

"Bob is going to pick me up so you can have a conversation with Bradley," she whispered. "Will you call me later tonight? Any time is fine."

You nodded and wrapped your arms around her, holding her tight as a few more tears fell. "Thank you for driving and for everything, Molly. I love you."

She kissed your cheek as you heard Bob's truck pull up outside. "Call me."

And then she was gone, and you were crawling inside the blanket tent and curling up against Bradley's left side. When you pressed your lips to his cheek, he started to stir. 

"Kitten," he whispered in his sleepy voice, pulling you closer as Everett continued to doze. He squeezed your hip with his big hand and kissed you softly. "You okay?"

You nodded and rested your head on his shoulder. "I'm okay now."

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

When Everett woke up to find that you were home as well, laying on Bradley's other side with your fingers stroking his mustache and scruffy cheeks, he scrambled over Bradley and into your arms.

"Mommy!"

Bradley crawled out from under the blanket fort and stretched while you held Everett and kissed him. He turned off the TV and started to clean up the wrappers from the Happy Meals as well as some of the pillows. This way he could give you some time to talk quietly with Ev. But because he wasn't sure if he should stay or leave, he lingered a bit since it was close to Everett's bedtime now. 

When you and Everett finally crawled out from under the tent, Bradley's arms were full of both of you. "Thank you." Your words weren't necessary, and you'd already thanked him so many times, but Bradley thought perhaps you needed to say them again. And now he was dreading telling you what happened at Danny's

"Will you carry me up to bed?" Everett asked, looking up at Bradley. He finally seemed like the relaxed, happy child he usually did. 

"Of course," Bradley replied, scooping him up and carrying him upstairs. In no time, he was snuggled up in bed holding the plush Phanatic in both arms. And Bradley's heart was aching. 

"Baby, we need to talk," he told you as you led him out of Everett's bedroom. 

You nodded with a look of agony on your face. "I know." You walked ahead of Bradley and went to your bed, holding the covers up for him to crawl in with you. You swallowed hard as he wrapped his arm around you so that you and he were laying face to face. "I know you won't always be able to help out like you did today."

Bradley's brow scrunched up, and he pursed his lips. "What do you mean? Of course I will."

You sighed and looked at him. "I just mean, even if we're together, you could be deployed or something."

"Kitten, I'm not going anywhere. And if I'm deployed, baby, you still have Molly and Bob. Hell, you could have called Nat for help today, too. She would have probably beat the living shit out of Danny, but she would have brought Everett home safe and sound."

You closed your eyes and pressed your face into his chest as you asked, "What happened when you got to his house?"

Bradley sighed and rubbed your back, trying to decide just how much detail to give you. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel any worse than you already clearly did. 

"Just tell me, Bradley," you gasped, gripping his shirt. But when he still hesitated, you said, "Just tell me everything."

"I knocked on the door, and Everett answered," he said softly, still rubbing small circles along your back through your shirt. "Danny was nowhere in sight, and I took Everett right outside and got him buckled into his booster seat."

You pulled away from him and stared off into space. "You...took him right out? And Danny had no idea? Why wasn't he with Everett?!"

Bradley shook his head and kissed your forehead five times before he said, "Danny was high, Kitten. He had been smoking, and the whole house smelled."

You started sobbing against his chest. "That's what I was afraid of after Everett called and told me it smelled weird. But I was trying to hope that I was wrong about it." You were quiet for a minute. "Was there a woman there?"

"Yeah," Bradley whispered. "She was high, too. After I got Ev safely locked up in the Bronco, I went back up and pounded on the door until they answered. I thought for a second that I was going to lose it and knock him the fuck out. Honestly, the only reason I didn't was because Everett was ready to leave."

You were crying in earnest now as you pushed Bradley fully onto his back. When you sat up on your knees and swiped at your tears, you said, "I don't even know why I'm crying. I am not sad, I'm furious! And now I have to go over there and talk to Danny about this!"

Bradley watched as every emotion flitted across your face, and then he sat up to give you a kiss. "Everett doesn't want to go back to Danny's house anymore. He begged me to tell you that."

You nodded and cradled your forehead in your hands. "Okay. Now I am sad."

He let you have a few minutes to process everything before saying, "If you want me to stay tonight, I'll stay. But if you want me to go so you can have some space, just say the word, and I'll lock up when I go."

"I need to call Molly. And I think I need to be alone," you whispered. But before Bradley went back to his apartment, he held you until you promised him you were feeling better.

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

When Bradley only received a few texts from you on Monday, he was beginning to feel apprehensive. But when Molly pulled into the parking lot with Everett for tee ball practice, Bradley knew something was wrong. Because he expected that you would have told him you'd be missing practice. 

"Everything okay?" he asked Molly as Everett ran over to him.

She just shrugged and handed the gear bag to Bradley when he reached for it. "I'm not sure."

He gave her an appraising look. "Where is she?" But he didn't need to ask, because he already knew. And now he was getting pissed that you hadn't told him before going over there.

"Danny's," she whispered, and Bradley started texting you right away. He would have preferred to go with you. "I told her I would take Everett home for a sleepover if she needed me to."

And then Bradley understood that you weren't expecting a positive outcome from your encounter with your ex. Fuck. He had an hour long tee ball practice to get through before he could even get over to your house to see if you needed anything. 

His patience was already short when he knelt to help Everett with his cleats before sending him out to Bob. And that's when Sandra opened her mouth. "I can't help but notice that she's not here. I think it's her turn to bring snacks."

Bradley met her eyes and watched her cheeks turn scarlet as she snapped her mouth shut. He could only imagine what he must look like right now. 

"I have the snacks and juice boxes in my car, so really there's no need to comment on anything," Molly said sweetly. "But if you do feel the need to comment further, my car is that blue Honda, and I'd be happy to meet you there after practice is over. Just keep in mind that I'm in a raging bad mood today, and I'm nowhere as nice as my sister."

"Having been on the receiving end of your rage, I can vouch for that," Bradley muttered to Molly, making her chuckle. "Hey, after practice I'm just going to head right to her house."

Molly nodded. "That's probably a good idea. I'll distract Everett this evening, but she's going to need someone to vent to, I think."

As soon as practice was over, Bradley contemplated picking up dinner, but he decided getting to you was more important. And when he let himself inside your house, he was so damn thankful he hadn't stopped anywhere on his way.

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

You hadn't even knocked on Danny's door yet, but you just knew you were about to feel his wrath. Instead of contacting him first, you simply left work and headed to Mission Beach, hoping to blindside him. 

When Danny opened his front door, he just shook his head at you. "I don't have time for this right now."

"Yes, you do," you replied, feeling your anger fill you up. 

"I'm in the middle of something," he replied, starting to shut the door. But you wedged your body in before he could close it completely. "So you're just going to barge in then? Like your boyfriend?"

"I guess so," you growled, slamming the door closed once you were inside. 

"What do you want?" he asked blandly.

Rage. That was the only thing you could feel now. "I want you to tell me what your problem is! Smoking pot while you're supposed to be watching Everett? Really?"

He got right in your face, and you staggered back against the front door. "You are the one with the fucking problem, okay? I told you I didn't want him here yesterday, but you insisted."

You pushed yourself away from the door so your chest was bumping his. He was bigger than you, but you weren't going to back down. "I gave you two options, Danny. So I guess you'll be taking the paying child support route then?"

When he clenched his fist at his side, you felt your tummy dip in fear. "We have been over this. I don't have the income for that right now."

"You have money for weed," you growled. "Why don't you give me that cash and call it a day?"

"You don't understand!" he yelled. "You never understood, and that's why we aren't married anymore."

You swallowed hard. "We're not married anymore because I left with Everett. Because we deserved better. And being on our own was a much better option than being with you. But he's still your kid! So I'm going to call my lawyer."

His eyes flashed. "You're getting a lawyer involved? I don't have money for that."

"Then what do you suggest I do, Danny?" you asked, your tone patronizing now. You knew it wasn't a good idea to goad him on, but you couldn't help yourself. "Get a time machine and convince my past self not to let you fuck me? That's what you expect me to do?"

"No!" he hollered. "I expect you to leave me the hell alone! You and Everett both! So whatever needs to be done to make that happen, that's what we are going to do!"

You were shaking now as his words sunk in. The bile started to rise up in your stomach, but you couldn't move. Your teeth started to chatter. "I can understand your anger with me," you whispered. "But you don't want him around at all?"

"No!" 

And with that one final word, you felt your stomach clench painfully. "And you're going to refuse to pay child support?"

"Yes! I don't want to have to deal with any of this!"

You sucked in a few breaths before you could speak again. "You want to sign away custody? Never spend time with your kid again?" You had to wipe your eyes to be able to see clearly.

"Yes! Use your fucking lawyer to make that happen, okay?" he barked at you, face red with anger. "I don't want you around, and I don't want him. Now, how about you get out of my house?"

Your breath was coming in short gasps and you thought you might faint. But when you didn't move fast enough for his liking, Danny physically turned you and opened the door before trying to push you outside with his hand on the back of your neck. 

"I'm not going to give you another chance with Everett after this," you said, tears dripping from your eyes as you spun around to face him. But your necklace chain was caught in his fingers, and he snapped it as he pushed you again. You caught the chain and the charm in your hand before they could drop, and you looked up at him. 

"Get out," he barked. "And don't come back until you have something for me to sign."

You squeezed your paw print charm in your hand as you ran out to your car, nearly tripping in your high heels, and started the engine. The interior echoed with your broken sobs as you made the first turn toward your house. 

Danny didn't want Everett. As hard as you tried to process things, the words just stayed at surface level, because they didn't make sense. You couldn't accept them as the truth. That was Everett's dad, and dads were supposed to want their kids around. Dads were supposed to love their children. You and Molly had been raised by older parents who loved you both, and you didn't get enough time with either of them. 

But that wasn't the case with Danny at all. Danny didn't want Everett. He just couldn't be bothered. He really was that selfish. 

What was wrong with you that you kept trying for so long? Did you really think he was going to change his mind? You left him for a reason. But you always thought that you were the problem, because how could anyone not want Everett? 

When you looked up, you were parked in your driveway. You didn't remember driving home. You walked inside to your empty house and took off your work shoes, still clutching your necklace as you walked upstairs to your bathroom. 

Danny didn't want Everett. 

You threw up in the toilet and then sat down hard on the floor. You must have done something wrong, because that was the only explanation for this. You pushed too hard, or you didn't push hard enough. Danny had wanted you to get an abortion, but you thought you were in love. You dreamed of having the perfect family, and you thought he would eventually change his mind. But he didn't. He never did. Danny didn't want Everett. 

You curled up on the bathroom floor and gripped the tub mat to your chest, still clutching your necklace, and you let yourself cry. It was all your fault. Everything was your fault. And now you were going to have to call your lawyer and explain out loud to another person that your ex husband didn't want your son. Danny didn't want Everett. As if there was some reason that your son didn't deserve to be loved. As if your six year old child had done something egregious or unforgivable. But all he had ever done was make you happy and give you purpose. How could someone not want him around? 

"Oh god," you gasped as your tears rolled down your cheeks and onto the floor. At least Molly would take care of Everett for the night, because you wouldn't be able to look him in the eye right now. It would be a while before you could process all of this. "Why?" you sobbed, unable to catch your breath. You rolled onto your back and draped your arm over your eyes, but the pain in your chest just grew worse and worse, and you started gagging on your tears. 

You couldn't catch your breath, and you couldn't hear anything past the wretched sobs filling the small room. Until you saw movement out of the corner of your watery eyes. 

"Oh, Kitten. I'm here." And then you felt him lay down next to you and collect you into his arms as you sobbed harder.

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

Yes, Coach! Stepping up and taking care of things, but putting Ev first! I feel terrible for Kitten. She really can't understand Danny. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 21

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #batting practice #roosterforme

[thevirgincherry]

ASKING FOR IT !

ft. og4 leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. p in v, smut, cheating (not on reader), ooc leon sorry, he’s mean, negging, misogyny, reference to past rape/non-con, unresolved trauma, suicidal thoughts duhhh, he calls reader ugly a lot, leon subs for his gf but doms reader, non-con to consensual sex, manipulation, some .. uh waterboarding? he dunks your head in water, opioid addiction but it’s minor LMFAOO

note. haii… um feedback whether it’s good or bad appreciated really forced myself to write this so im like ack. hating everything i write but! ignore typos :3 it’s not as fleshed out as i wanted .. soooo it reads pretty jolty but yah 😭 and the smut is like not. IDK I’m ugh not into it just couldn’t bring myself to extend stuff that I really wanted to develop n he’s ooc. BUT!! again ignore typos or I’ll cry n feedback/constructive criticism appreciated <3

Leon has a girlfriend. He can never hold down a girl, his ability to scare women away is preternatural, so it’s a big deal. And she’s fucking hot. Not like model hot, but pornstar hot. She’s got tits so firm they might as well be bulletproof. Bottle blonde with eyes that swallow up her whole face. Her stomach doesn’t crease when she sits. It’s the type of beauty that takes its form in slashes of red lace and nylon. Not many women are out of his league, but she is.

They have hot sex like attractive people tend to do, and it goes something along the lines of this.

He goes:

Is that dick good, baby? You like it? Right there, baby?

And she goes:

Fuck, yes, baby! Harder, deeper— Oh, right there!

And then she doesn’t cum.

So there’s that, but he’s working on it.

Leon doesn’t take well to tips on how to fuck. Reading advice columns in the Men’s Health magazine leaves a funny taste in his mouth. It might be the blood from the castrated image of his masculinity. Who knows.

He struggles with that sort of thing. A nice face does nothing for a man who doesn’t actually like anything about himself. Leon’s still that wimpy self-hating loser he was all those years ago. In all fairness to God, there are a few added tweaks here and there. Some bug fixes. Now he’s drunk and shallow too! Misanthropic when he’s at his very best.

As a kid, mom told Leon to be a nice boy so he was a nice boy. Not because he was ever a particularly nice boy, but for her sake. So instead of acting out he would go and crush ants beneath his thumb in the front yard because there is this mean part of Leon that splinters inside of him like cooked bones.

Life to Leon is being fucked into apologising for being alive so it’s no wonder he’s still harbouring the insecurities of a boy he isn't.

When he was eighteen it was by ugly old men who abhorred him for being the embodiment of whatever it was they were hiding from their wives. His legs looked nice thrown over a pair of big shoulders. They were so thin back then, model-type shit. All of those men mildly resembled his dad, but that’s something he wouldn’t quite like to crack down on yet. Leon’s being open enough as it is.

When he was twenty-one it was his headache of a first girlfriend. It was the bullet wound in his shoulder. When he was twenty-two it was being passed around boot camp like a dirty needle. When he was twenty-seven it was Luis who was nothing and everything in between. It was a picture book princess like Ashley. The scar on his shoulder. Stigmata. Glory Be. Whatever.

(And Jack, it was always Jack. Pale all over like a healed scar.)

What Leon is trying to get across, he’s not quite sure. Maybe that he's nice in theory and the reality is he’s a self-confessed charlatan of niceness. Or that he can’t fuck. He can’t fuck because he is deeply traumatised. Yeah. Maybe that’s what he’s trying to say. It’s an excuse, sure, doesn’t make it the truth though. Leon can’t fuck ‘cause he’s useless at most things that don’t include guns. He can’t fuck ‘cause he was unattractive as a teenager and that solidified the way he feels about himself now.

Leon’s got one thing going for him - he fingers her pussy till his fingers prune. Eats her out till he gets lockjaw.

“Oh, you’re so good at that,” she says, kissing his slicked-up lips.

Then her eyes flit to his hard dick and she gives him that strange half-smile. One that seems to say: Not with that. His dick. Obviously.

His shit is big enough, it’s long enough— It’s enough. And it’s pretty. Could put a bow on to make it real cute. Could manufacture a dildo inspired by it. So Leon cannot for the life of him wrap his head around her problem. It’s not his dicks fault her pussy is fucking broken. Her broken pussy doesn’t get to make his dick sad. Doesn’t get to lay devastating blows on his gone-with-the-wind ego.

Another thing is, her sister is an ugly bitch. That upsets Leon and his dick in tow. You’re a student, taking a break for some reason Leon has not bothered to fathom. He couldn’t care less. Go do it someplace else. In this house, you’re nothing more than a cockblock. Leon could forgive you for being a cockblock if you weren’t ugly. Or vice versa.

It would be okay if Leon wasn’t stuck at home with you for hours at a time. Work fucked up his back, so he’s staying here in his girlfriend’s apartment eating her food, running her taps, fucking her badly and shitting on her sister.

You’re sat on the other end of the table with a soggy bowl of cereal while he nurses a juice box like a real man. What do ugly little things like you think about anyway?

When Leon was ugly he thought about forcing his dick into the cute girl next door between his more regular thoughts of what to eat for dinner and whether he stocked up on toilet paper or not.

When he was ugly, his day was made simply by a pretty girl looking in his general direction. So Leon makes sure to look in yours. Y’know, to fuel your perverted wet dreams. Your rape fantasies. What freaks think about when they’re near hot guys. Well, it’s strange actually. You tend to totally ignore him. When the two of you make brief eye contact, you don’t flounder or duck or bow your head like you’re shy— You just move on with your life. That bothers him. Leon’s hot now. He’s not the type of man you just brush over like that. He’s the type you gawk at in broad daylight, he’s the sort of guy you see in soft porn magazines.

“Good morning,” his girlfriend greets, “have a good sleep, sweetie?” She bumps your hip when you stand up to hug her.

She’s wearing stockings today. Oh, he loves stockings. He loves pencil skirts. He loves— He loves office wear. He wants to be put over her lap and spanked raw perhaps.

“Yeah, it’d be nice if your boyfriend stopped moaning like a girl though.” It’s said into her ear, but Leon hears it.

“I’m going now, honey,” his girlfriend tells him.

Like a good boy, Leon stands to bid her goodbye. Her blouse is sheer, shows off her black bra and he eyes it with distaste.

“What’s wrong, Leon?”

He doesn’t speak. Just glares at her perfect set of tits like a baby weaned off milk.

“I can’t take them off,” she snorts.

Leon wishes she could. Hang ‘em up in the closet and pop them back on when it’s time to play. Tits are for the bedroom. Otherwise, they’re too much of a distraction. Instead, he settles on slipping his hand up her skirt to check if she’s wearing panties. (There’s no panty line showing through her pencil skirt and that’s always a bad sign.) She shoos him away.

So Leon leans in for a kiss, and she says, “Nuh-uh, honey, you’ll ruin my makeup.” Then she gives in ‘cause Leon can be kinda cute when he tries hard enough. “Just one, okay?”

“Yeah.” Leon nods. Her kisses are analgesic. Which is unfortunate considering he has an opioid addiction. Almost an addiction.

“One,” she counts, Leon kisses her again, “two, three, four.”

She’s teasing him now.

“Okay, well, keep an eye on her, Leon.”

“I’m not twelve,” you say, exiting the kitchen to spare yourself the sight of him groping your older sister.

Yeah, and Leon’s not a bang nanny.

He wipes the red from his lips, takes his juice box from the table where you’re no longer and decides jerking off in the shower will make him feel better. Leon does. He finishes. Watches his seed wash down the drain and wonders if that was wasteful. A short intermission is taken, then he jerks off in front of her full-body mirror. His biceps flex and his abs tighten, and he looks fucking good.

Why isn’t she cumming? What’s wrong with her? Is she getting too old? Is menopause hitting already? She’s only thirty-something. It can’t be that, and she asked Leon to pick up tampons last week— Unless they were for you.

Nobody in this house tells Leon anything. Another shower is what he needs. No, he needs a smoke. Leon doesn’t smoke. He does the next best thing, rests idly against the railings of her balcony, observing the ballet of D.C. life. Man, he could throw himself over right now. Splat against the asphalt and that would be it. It’d all be over. Hauling his weight over would be no problem. Catastrophizing to pass the time. Men used to do this for a living in Ancient Greece. What happened to philosophising? Leon could be a philosopher, all they did was spout nonsense and he is good at that. Not at fucking, however.

Beer. Yeah. Beer. That’s what he needs. Leon ransacks the fridge to no avail. Health-conscious living is the reason for misery, he believes. See, very insightful, modern-day Socrates right here. Lean proteins, vegan substitutes, low-fat yoghurt— It’s so girly it makes him sick.

“She’s still on a health kick,” you say from behind him, “I thought it was a New Years thing, but she’s still, like, super into it.”

Why are you talking to him? Leon blinks at you owlishly. “Right,” he says.

You give him a funny look, turning back to the counter to use the coffee machine. Don’t you want him? You’re not shy. Why aren’t you shy? Shouldn’t you be shy? Ugly Leon was mute around girls whether they were short, fat, ugly or pretty. Shit, he is clucking for a beer.

“There's Chardonnay under the sink.” Well, that’s unhelpful.

“Yeah, I don’t- I don’t drink that.” He would like to finish his sentence off with ‘girly shit’ but you seem like the type to find that offensive.

“Figured.” The coffee machine whirs. A lobotomised silence ensues. “Good talk.”

You’re so ugly you’re asking for it. Perfect subject for the ‘I can’t make my girlfriend cum, is her pussy broken?’ experiment. Ugly girls don’t count as a fuck, right? Not when they’re sent to the very back of your mind after said fuck. He wonders how many girls counted the uglier him as an official lay.

You’re on your tummy reading a book. The Beautiful and Damned. Leon had no idea they wrote a book about him. The door creaking exposes his creeping against his will.

“Do you need something?” you ask without batting an eye.

The swell of your ass is nice. “Uh, yeah, I do.”

Rolling over and sitting up to face him, you tilt your head to the side. “Go on.”

“I want to have sex with you.” Woah. Okay. That’s a genie he can’t put back in the bottle. Fuck, why does he do this stupid shit? Leon should just kill himself. All roads lead to suicide. Every sign points towards suicide and he is still holding on for dear life.

Think about Sherry. Sherry won’t care, kids hit sixteen and don’t give a fuck about much, he reasons with the voice in his head. How about Claire? Oh, she’ll think good fucking riddance. Redfield? No way. You are truly out of options, Kennedy.

“I’m sorry?”

Oh, god no, Leon’s the one that should be sorry. “You heard me.” The apology comes out incredibly wrong. “I’m helping you out.”

“Helping me out with what? I’m sorry, Leon, I didn’t… I didn’t think I— I don’t know what made you think I wanted this from you, but I don’t like you—“

You don’t like him? Why not? He’d like a list of reasons with a page-long explanation. What’s not to like? The hair. It’s the hair. Blond is too girly. That’s what it is.

“—I mean, you’re with my sister, did you really think I would say yes? I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused, where is this coming from? Gosh, I really… I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m helping you out,” Leon repeats, using his hands to gesture at your face, at your body. “No one else is gonna do it.” This apology has gone way out of bounds. A simple sorry would have sufficed.

“What..?” Something doleful crosses your face, then it twists unpleasantly. “You think I want to have sex with you… ‘cause I’m not cute? Like, you think I’m…”

Ugly, yes. He does. Only a little. Can you turn over? He wants to make you cum. “You’re a virgin, yeah?”

“Oh my god, there’s, like, something wrong with you!” You stand to your full height in a pitiful attempt to appear frightening. That face is enough to scare a man away already. “Get out— And I am so telling her when she gets back home, I told her I didn’t like you, I told her and now you just-“

Leon grabs you by the jaw, squeezes you so tight it clicks. “Okay, sweetheart, here’s how this is going to go,” he starts, taking both your wrists in a single hand, “we’re going to start over, and you’re going to be a good little girl and apologise to me like you really mean it.”

“Apologise for what?” It comes out muffled through your forced pout so he chooses to ignore you.

“I don’t know what you fuckin’ said.” Leon should just end it here, he should let go of you and check into the nearest asylum. He’s hot. Leon is box blond. He’s tall enough to dwarf most girls. His face is nice. His body is nicer. So he doesn’t know what his problem is. Once pinned down, you shrink away from him, expression so sour your skin looks ready to melt off your skull.

And then he fucks you till you stop screaming. He leaves you in a withered heap, heads back to his room to take a well-deserved nap, hides his face in the pillows. They smell like her. He should think about killing himself some more. That gun looks awfully shiny. Nth time could be the charm.

She gets home in the evening, drops her bag on the floor to alert him of her entrance.

“I missed you.” Leon noses at her neck.

“You were sleeping.” She ruffles his hair like he’s a child.

“I still missed you.”

“Even when you’re sleeping?”

In the least creepy way possible, he wants to wear her skin as a suit, and she thinks his body doesn’t yearn for her at every sleeping second?

“The most when I’m sleeping, have bad dreams without you,” Leon mumbles groggily.

“How cute,” she muses, “good day?”

“Great day.” Leon nods. “Real productive.”

“Oh yeah? What’d you get up to?” A singular red nail strokes along his spine.

“Thought about you,” he answers, leaving out the part where he spent half of his time jerking off. Oh, and the part where he fucked her sister into submission. He raped you. He did. Leon doesn’t like that word. Far too harsh.

“Now, don’t push it, mister.” When she smiles there’s a lack of wrinkles— Not even smile lines, it’s artificial almost.

Leon’s good at pushing buttons. He should get paid for it. “It’s true, if you said jump I’d ask how high.”

“You’re so funny, Leon.” She kisses his head and laughs all prim and proper.

“Serious, babe, I’m super partial to jumping,” he says to hear her laugh again. He’s more partial to suicide. It’s great. A one-way ticket off of God’s green inferno. Who would he even be without suicide ideation?

“Alright, but I’d like you all in one piece.” She kisses his cheek. “No jumping, okay, honey?” She kisses his neck and his collarbones and his Adam’s apple and he’s unable to breathe.

“Okay,” Leon says. He gets it now. She’s mommying him. Maybe this is what Leon needs. To play house. A daddy to fuck his throat and a mommy to sit on his dick and tell him that he’s a good boy and he’s needed and he won’t have to think if he has a mommy and daddy to do that for him.

Can he backtrack on the rape thing? Trust Leon to take a good thing and ruin it in the worst way possible. If he kissed you he could’ve wormed his way out of it. Told her it was the medication he’s on, that he had a mental breakdown, a midlife crisis.

At dinner, your silence slips under the radar like cumstains on motel bedsheets. You pick at your food, and when Leon’s knee brushes yours under the table, you excuse yourself. Sometimes he thinks that he is a bad person, this can be backed up by many things. Violating you might outweigh saving the world.

In bed, he thinks about changing, about calling his therapist in the morning, he might take a leap off that balcony, cleaning up his act sounds terribly hard. Leon does this all with his head tucked into the hollow of his girlfriend’s neck. The thinking has killed his boner and now he can’t get it up. So he pretends to fall asleep. It’s an unconvincing performance ‘cause the moment she swipes a hand over his ass he lets out a disgruntled noise. Leon clenches so quickly his stomach caves in.

“You don’t like that, honey?”

He shakes his head, overgrown bangs falling in his eyes. Leon has a nice ass. It’s no wonder she wants to touch it, leg presses have done him wonders, but still, it’s off-limits. She can’t sweet talk her way into this anytime soon.

“Why, Leon?” She’s cupping his ass like he’s a girl. Leon’s not a girl. “You’d look so cute.”

“No,” he whines, and it sounds kind of sexy. He gets it. He can see the appeal.

“I think you just need some encouragement, baby.” She’s taking him apart like a gun. Folding him like laundry. Milks his prostate so well he sleeps like a baby. Not even a shadow of an orgasm to be seen from her side.

She leaves early the next morning and he’s left alone to ruminate. What he finds out today is that you’re pretty diligent at sucking dick when forced.

Leon thinks he would like to break you in a way that only he can fix.

He pushes your head down on his dick till your lips are stretched so far they split at the corners, you gag wetly each time the fat tip knocks the back of your throat, heavy balls slapping against your chin.

“Aww, look at you,” Leon coos, “little girl taking big things.”

Fat tears well in your eyes, a faint tremor betrays your effort to hold them back, a single blink and they roll down your cheeks like dewdrops. It might be the dick lodged in your throat, pulsing under your tongue— Yeah, no, it’s his dick in your mouth. That’s why you're upset. No other reason for it. Leon finds you a little ungrateful. A lot of women would pay for this, to drain his balls. Hell, your sister loves to do it.

“One at a time, sweetheart,” he says as he guides you to his balls, “can’t have you choking, can we?” You look up at him blankly. Leon thought he was funny and that’s all that matters. “Go on, spit on ‘em, get me nice and wet.” The drool pooling beneath your tongue drizzles his balls in clear strings, his drippy tip bumps the bridge of your nose, rests comfy on your brow ridge.

You’re struggling real bad. He’ll take it as a compliment. The thing is, you refuse to just lick them, pulling off each ball with a wet pop! and a dry cough. Leon starts to zone out so he shoves you off and quite pathetically, you fall flat on your back.

“You didn’t shave,” Leon notes in distaste, he was going to do you a favour too.

“No— Not for you.” You squirm like a fish on the docks when he hovers over you.

“Not for me, right.”

“Anyone but you.”

“You're not gonna do it for anyone, sweetheart, know why?” Leon clicks his tongue when you dodge his kiss, twisting your neck to keep a distance.

“Why?”

“No one else wants you,” he states, “you’re lucky that I want you.”

“Well, that’s not true.” You’re stubborn amongst all your other undesirable traits.

Leon scoffs. “What, so you ever had a boyfriend?” He runs his index finger along your slit. Bone dry. Serious? He assumes you’re still sore from yesterday.

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

“Don’t get mad at me, honey, I’m just helping you out.” Leon spits on your pussy, then on his thick cock for good measure, jerks his shaft and presses a thumb to his tip to guide it into you. Your lips fold inwards around him as he breaches your tiny hole. There’s too much resistance for it to be a smooth sailing journey, and you’re new to cock, cunt pushing him out as your body tenses. “I’m being nice to you, so you should say thank you.”

“Oh, god,” you mutter, brows knit in what might be pain or pleasure.

“Yeah, that’s what you’re calling me now?” The look you give him is priceless, small hands settling on his chest as you push at him weakly. “No, baby, you don’t get to do that.” Leon bottoms out, he rolls his hips forward to grind the head of his dick into your cervix, the fleshly opening moulds to his tip and you cry out. He can never tell if you’re enjoying it.

Leon sticks his fingers in your mouth to coat them in spit, you retch and he rubs figure eights on your clit, only then does your cunt loosen up its hold on him. It’s a quick process, the quicker he rubs you raw, the wetter you get, biting down on your tongue to keep quiet, but low groans slip past your cracked lips.

“Oh, there we go, baby, that’s it,” Leon coos, his cock slicked up by your wet pussy, sliding in and out with ease. His hips snap forward, forcing himself deeper into your messy little pussy, so wet you’re dripping down his balls, wetness stuck to your inner thighs.

“Fuck— I can’t, I can’t do it, ‘s too big,” you whimper, a hand slipping between your bodies to lay on your stomach. What you don’t understand is that he is big, yeah, but your pussy just needs to be broken in. Like a new pair of shoes.

“You’re doing it, baby,” Leon says, ‘cause you are doing it. You’re taking it. Body going rigid with each brutal thrust into your sopping wet hole. Whether you can take it or not isn’t for you to decide anyway. “I’m going to stuff your little pussy full,” he tells you.

“No,” you choke out, scratching at his chest, nails too blunt to do any sort of damage. Thank fuck. His girlfriend would go nuts.

It’s a satisfying victory, he covers your mouth to concentrate all his energy into this creampie, fills you to the brim, seed thick enough to stick to your insides. The original aim of his ‘experiment’ is forgotten, Leon doesn’t care if you cum or cry or pass out on his dick.

“I’m tellin’ her when she comes home.” Your threat is weak. He feared the consequences of yesterday, but you said nothing.

“You’re not telling her, you like me too much,” Leon decides, “I know you do, baby.”

“I don’t like you at all.” Your bottom lip trembles, fists balled up by your sides. The contempt only turns him on.

“No, but I think you know I’m right, don’t you?” No one else wants you, and you know that. Leon knows you know that. He’s the only one that is ever going to fuck you.

“Right about what? You’re a fucking psycho— I could get you locked up, I should get you locked up.”

“You should, so what're you waiting for?” If you did report him, Leon would just kill himself, going to prison sounds like a bore. “I think, sweetheart, that secretly, you really like it when I rape you.”

And your silence proves him right.

That report never comes. Duh. You love his dick. You like being roughed up. You know you’re deserving of it. Jesus Christ, Leon needs to call his shrink. Honestly, being around you is hard. It’s like his guilty conscience has developed a human body, shambling around the apartment in the shape of a malformed ghost girl, reminding him of the shit he’s said and done to you. You’re spinning in his necrosed brain like one of those music box ballerinas.

“Leon, be a doll and do me up,” his girlfriend is facing away from him, the smooth skin of her back and shoulders bared to him.

Leon only hears the ‘do me’ part, kissing the nape of her neck, reaching round to grab at her fat tits. “I love you…”

“I love you too, baby, but what do you think you’re doing?”

Leon makes a motion with his fingers, she sees it in the mirror.

“What is that, sign language?”

“No, I want to finger you.”

“Oh, well, that’s lovely, baby, but it’s not the time for that. I asked you to zip me up, Leon.” He zips her up while wondering how she can be so unaffected by him being so stupid.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” You knock on the door, you keep hiding your face from him today. His girlfriend said it’s ‘cause you have makeup on. Apparently that changes things. It’s sort of cute. Like, are you shy? You should be shy.

“Oh, no one likes cliffhangers, honey,” she says, forcing you to swap out some open-toe sandals for a pair of her heels. “Okay, Leon, I’ve left your dinner in the fridge, yes?”

Yes, mommy. “Yeah, babe.”

“And there’s snacks in the cupboard now, oh, and don’t use the tap water, it tastes strange so I stocked up— Leon, will you stop doing that with your jaw?”

Sorry, mommy. “Sorry, babe.”

“He’s totally fucking gurning,” you inform her in a way that screams playground snitch. He’ll choke you out for that.

“Gurning, what’s that?” His girlfriend asks cluelessly. This bitch is in her early thirties, Leon has no idea why she acts fifty. Whatever, it’s hot, he gets a girl with all the traits of an older lady without the sagging.

“Like, y’know, ‘cause he’s on meds.” What a little shit. Is this you getting back at him? Some petty fucking act of revenge? Getting his medication taken away from him by his health freak girlfriend?

“Medication? I didn’t know about this, Leon.” She looks at him like he’s killed her mother. Or raped her sister. If only she knew.

“Yeah, for my back, my back hurts, babe— Th-That’s why I’m on leave. My back hurts.” What a compelling act. Totally not a dude that’s two minutes away from injecting black tar heroin.

“Who prescribed them, a doctor or a vet?” You cock your head to the side. Fine. You fucking got him.

“Same thing.” Leon shrugs.

She makes him empty the bedside desk of pills. “Leon, good boys don’t do this. We don’t take drugs in this household, let me take them off your hands.”

“They’re- Babe, they’re not drugs, they’re for my back— I hurt my back.” Granted, his back stopped aching a few days back, he’s just taking advantage of the break. Also, he’s not a child.

“Your back, honey, I know it hurts.” She waves him off. “We can fix it, huh? I can book you in for acupuncture or cupping— Oh, what about a chiropractor?”

“Fine,” Leon says, voice cracking, watching in devastation as she takes his pills in a black garbage bag.

“Bye, Leon, see you later, honey.” She blows him a kiss and he catches it. He has to catch it.

“Yeah, bye, Leon!” You wave at him, looking happier than you have in days.

The door opens an hour later and Leon takes his hand out of his pants. You stand in front of him with red eyes and messy makeup. Leon, being the gentleman he is, takes you into his arms and rubs your back to soothe you as he tells you, more than a little cruel, I fucking told you so.

At least now you know that some guys aren’t as nice as Leon. Some men will spit in your face without considering how tight your pussy is, they won’t even think about how good your tits look in that push-up bra. See? That’s what the real world is like.

The bath fills as he bends you over the sofa. You’re prettier from behind, dress hiked up, soaked panties around your ankles. His hand smooths down the front of your stomach to cup your puffy cunt, prodding at your swollen clit. You shaved. Funny. Thought you were going to get a dick that wasn’t his.

Leon kneels, he spreads your ass cheeks to lick into your pussy from behind, tongue lapping up the beads of arousal that dribble down the seam of your cunt like sticky honey. He laps at your hole and you arch your back to push into him, his tongue fucking your pussy so well, sloppy sounds fill his ears.

“Been wanting to do this,” Leon says into your cunt, tongue making its way back up the centrefold of your fat pussy, he blows spit bubbles on your clit and then he nips at it until you cry out, startled by the jolt of pain. His dick kicks in his sweats. You taste good to make up for that face of yours.

You cream in his mouth so sweetly, toes curling against the wooden floor. Leon wipes his mouth on his forearm, then he wraps it around your neck, pulling your body flush to his. In his chest, his heart flutters when you press a delicate kiss to his bicep. He feels it and you can’t unfeel that.

“I’m sorry, Leon,” you get out through shaky moans as he sandwiches his shaft between your chubby pussy lips, bumping the tip into your clit as his hips move back and forth. “I’m sorry… Didn’t know-“

“It’s okay, baby.” He kisses behind your ear. “It’s alright ‘cause you know now, huh?”

“Yeah,” you agree tearfully, tilting your head so it rests on his broad chest, he gives your pout some wet kisses.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm, baby?” Leon nudges you with his nose.

Your idea of cleaning up might be far from what Leon’s is. He doesn’t think you were expecting something so extreme. But it’s for thinking you’re worth something— For thinking that anyone else would do as little as touch you. It’s to wash off that pitiful attempt at makeup.

He bends you in half over the tub. Your tits hang low enough to be squashed against the edge painfully as Leon dunks your head into lukewarm water. Holy shit. Tomorrow will be the day he overdoses. Why is he doing this?

A strangled noise passes your lips as he lets up, and you re-emerge, Leon wipes a hand over your face to rid you of the streaky mascara and sticky gloss.

“There we go, sweetheart, nice and clean.” He presses the tip into your leaking cunt, it catches on your hole, and you flail, water spilling over the edge, surface tension broken as it ripples.

Honest to god, Leon hasn’t fucked a pussy tighter than yours, and when he holds you beneath the surface? Man, you might deglove his dick. He works his cock into you, and when he’s balls deep in your sloppy cunt, Leon allows you to lift your head to which you pant and gasp and cough. All the shit a drowning person does when they’re tossed a lifesaver.

Your body sags, hanging limp with only Leon to hold you up as he roughly fucks in and out of your poor hole, heavy balls slapping against your skin.

“I love you, Leon,” you tell him, rubbing at your stinging nose with your fist, pussy tightening when he pinches your throbbing clit.

“Aw, do you, baby? You love me?” Leon laughs, the mean smile on his face hidden in your shoulder, “That’s so cute.” He rocks back and forth, shallow thrusts that are more for him than they are for you, rabbiting his dick into your squelching pussy until his balls pulse and his shaft twitches inside of you. “Real— Real fuckin’ cute,” he grits out as he buries himself to the hilt, shooting his load in your willing little pussy.

“I think so,” you whimper, thighs trembling as the knot in your stomach snaps and you coat his cock in your slick. Hey, his dick isn't a problem then.

Leon thinks about calling his shrink. The bad shit he does won’t fix itself like he wants. “Clean up,” he tells you, looking at the wet ground. The soaked rug. Your face.

“What… Leon, where are you going?” You use your palms to mop the excess water from your face. “Seriously, Leon? I just… I told you that…”

He has things to do - Leon’s going to call his shrink and very promptly throw himself over the balcony when she doesn’t answer his call.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy angst #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil x you #resident evil angst #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Polyamorous: Interruptions

*Bonus*

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes/ Stucky x reader

Warning: fluff, smut

Polyamorous material list

Three bad interruptions and one good 

Children are wonderful, and parenthood is beautiful. Bucky, Steve, and (Y/n) loved it. Enjoyed every moment of it and loved their children very much. There wasn't a day that went by that they didn't love their children and show it. Their daughter and their son, their sun and their moon. 

No one told them what they'd gain from parenthood.

And no one told them what they'd lose with parenthood either. 

They love being parents, but gods did they miss being able to fuck in peace.  

Bad

(Y/n) giggled as Bucky pressed kisses along her shoulders and down her back. "Good morning to you, too" she said 

"I can make it better," he whispered as he started to pull her panties down. She hummed and kept her eyes closed as he removed her panties. She buried her face into her pillow as he continued to kiss her shoulder and massaged her hips and ass.

"Time?" she asked as his fingers lowered, stroking her lips. 

"7:47," he said as he found her clit, giving it small circles.

She moaned, "They'll be home soon".  Them being Steve and Ash. Steve and Sam had gone for an early morning run, and Ash joined them. Steve wanted to spend more time with her, and she wanted to be out in the city more. That being said, their run would come to an end soon. They were undoubtedly on their way back to the tower, and they would be here sooner rather than later. 

"Then we'll have to be really quick," Bucky said, pulling his finger back, pulling down his sweatpants and freeing himself. He groaned as he stroked her clit with his tip before pushing inside. She sighed as felt him slide into her. Laying on top of her, he turned her head to kiss him before lacing their fingers together. She moaned lightly as he slowly thrust against her. 

It was slow and soft with gentle moans and kisses. They held on to each other, leaving no space between them. 

"I love you," Bucky whispered as he kissed her 

"I love you," (Y/n) moaned against his lips. 

He groaned as she started to push back into him, grinding into him.  "More," she begged. 

"I can give you -"

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

The door cracked up with a little warning, but a few quick knocks and Ash stuck her head in. "Are you awake?" she whispered. 

"Morning, sweetheart," Bucky said in a rough voice, trying to give the illusion of just waking up. Thank the heavens she couldn't see his face because she'd see his full-blown panic, And thank his past self for being too lazy to remove the blankets because then she'd see what they were doing.

"Steve and I got breakfast on the way if you want some"

"Thanks," he said, and she dipped out, closing the door behind her. 

"Shut the fuck up," Bucky cursed as (Y/n) started to shake from laughter as she buried her face in her pillows. 

"I told you so," She whined as he pulled out. 

"I said shut up," he said again as he slapped her ass. She yelped but continued giggling. "That was a close call."

"Learn to lock the door before trying to seduce me"

-

Bad

Steve was on the phone with some big fancy politician. And Bucky was bored. He was supposed to have lunch with Steve, but this call was taking longer than anticipated, so he was sitting here bored out of his mind and hungry. He already lost interest in playing with the figurines on his desk. 

He watches as Steve throws down his pen, now nodding and humming along to whatever is being said. He rolls his chair back and runs his hands through his hair, giving Bucky a sympathetic look. It was likely that they wouldn't be having lunch together after all. But maybe they could still do something with him. 

Standing up, Bucky walked around the desk. He kissed Steve's forehead as he massaged his shoulders. Steve closed his eyes and leaned into his touch. Leaning forward, he kisses his neck as his hands rub his chest. 

"Well, if it comes to that, sir, I'm sure you'll have better solutions by then." Steve Swatted Bucky's hands away as he reached for his pants. 

Rolling his eyes, Bucky stepped around the chair to stand in between Steve's legs. Steve's eyes got comically big as  Bucky kneeled in between his legs and laid his head on his thigh, and.... nothing. As he froze up, Bucky didn't do anything but lay his head on his thigh and close his eyes.  But Steve knew Bucky better than this, so he knew that this wasn't his end game. He wanted more. He was planning more. And he would not get caught in those plans while on the phone with a senator. 

"Sir, something has come up and needs my attention... Yes, sir ...I'll be sure to finish and send those to you as soon as possible. Alright... goodbye." He quickly hung up the phone.

"Finally," Bucky said as he unbuttoned Steve's pants. " Don't give me that look. I waited until you were off the phone." 

Steve chuckled but didn't stop him as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down. "If you're not going to take me to lunch, you can at least give me this... yeah?"

Bucky started to look hesitant before Steve dashed it. " Don't worry, and I'm still taking you for lunch after. You deserve it for waiting for me and ...this". 

Finally, freeing his cock from its restraints which were his jeans. " I like doing this, I always like doing this"

Steve sighed and leaned back as he watched Bucky. He watched him, and his eyes were on him as he licked up the length of his cock and sucked on his tip, and stroked the rest of him. He gasped and arched his back as he started fondling and tugging on his balls. Steve moaned as he took the rest of him in his mouth. He put a hand in his hair and tugged slightly as he started bobbing his head.  

"Fuck, You're too good for me," Steve hissed. 

Bucky let go with a pop he smiled, whipping his leaking cum. "And you taste too good"

Reaching forward with the hand not stroking him, he pulled Steve down for a kiss. 

"c'mere," Steve said as Bucky stood up. He pulled him forward, having him straddle him. He began to unbuckle his belt and zipper.  " Let's see how good you taste"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I'm going to put you across this-" 

"Hey, Steve Ash needs-OH SHIT" The door swung open without warning, and Bruce came in and quickly turned around and dropped his files on the way. " I'M SO SORRY, I'M SO SORRY"

As Bruce quickly tried to gather his files, Bucky and Steve went to hide themselves back in their pants and make themselves more presentable. By the time they had gathered themselves, Bruce was already gone. 

"Fuck" Steve said as Bucky sat on his desk. 

"No, actually, we didn't get that far."  Steve swatted his thigh. "How much trauma do you think that was?"

"At least a week of silence."

-

Bad 

"Fuck" Bucky cursed as he arched his back, pushing himself further onto her. "Wait, wait," he called out. 

"Are you okay?" Steve asked as he passed over (Y/n), rubbing his chest. (Y/n) kissed him along his jaw and down his neck to his chest.

"Yeah, I just.... I need another... to adjust. Sorry"

"Don't be sorry," (Y/n) said. "Take your time. Talk to us, How does it feel?"

Bucky let out a shaky sigh. " I just... overwhelmed. Too much ...Need a second is all."  

"Do you want me to-"

"NO," Bucky said as he reached back, grabbing (y/n)'s arm. "Stay!"

"Okay, okay," (Y/N) reassured him with kisses and massaging his chest, " You tell us what you want, okay?"

He took a moment to breathe and relax once he was feeling better. He nodded, signaling them to go ahead. (Y/n) kissed him. Steve ran a hand through his hair before he leaned back. Taking hold of (Y/n)'s hips, he thrusted, pushing her forward into Bucky. He groaned as she moaned. It was like a domino effect he'd push forward into her, and she'd push forward into him, and they'd both sing for him.

Three filled with the sound of slapping skin and moaning. 

"Fuck"  Bucky whimpered as (Y/n) started stroking him. 

"Yes, you feel... so good," she said as she stroked him she pinched his nipple with her other hand. " I want you to paint my chest. C'mon cum for me,"  (Y/n) said as she started to stroke him faster, matching Steve's thrusts. 

"You'll paint my chest, won't you, Bucky ... and Steve will fill me up." 

Steve pulled her back for a kiss. His hand joined hers in stroking Bucky. " I'll fill you up and make him clean you out." They both moaned at that. " You guys like the sound of that." He chuckled as he wrapped his hand around her neck, squeezing it slightly he felt her react, her wall clamping down on his nasd, sucking him further in. 

"You'd love it" he whispered against her skin as she whimpered. 

"fuc-"

"MOMMY!" The door flew open, revealing  Ian on a step stool. 

The throuple quickly detached and moved to cover themselves with sheets as their three-year-old son cried by the door. 

"what's wrong, honey?" Steve said as he was the quickest to recover and cover himself with a blanket around his waist. He rushed to his son. (Y/N) and Bucky was still on the bed, working to remove her harness under the sheets. Praising their son wouldn't notice, and he didn't see. 

Ian didn't say anything he just cried. Upon further inspection, it was then that Steve noticed that his son was covered in dried mud and gunk. Fun fact about Baby Ian: he did not like to be messy for too long. 

"Oh Honey,"

"I'M SORRY," came a shout down the hall as Ash rushed over. She was supposed to have even for the day. " I'm so sorry, he's supposed to be outside." She said as she tried to grab him, but (Y/n), now in a robe and freed from her harness, beat her to it. 

"My little baby"

"I'm sorry, we went to the park, and we came back, but you guys were...busy, so we went to the garden. I turned my back, and he was gone.  I'm so sorry"

"It's okay, you're fine," Steve said he went to put his hand on his shoulder but fortunately decided against it. 

"He just wanted to get clean," (Y/n) said as she bounced him on her hip "And you will. You're going to take a bath with Mommy." She said as she walked out of the room going to use Ian's bathroom instead of her own. 

"I'm sorry we interrupted ...." she motioned to the room and...bed. Bucky managed to find some sweatpants and joined Steve. 

"It's fine. Thank you for taking him for the day. And giving us ours," Bucky said. 

" He's my brother. We had fun," Ash said, and it was true she didn't mind hanging out with her younger brother if anything, the age difference made everything more fun. She couldn't wait until he was old enough to talk properly. "I'll leave you guys to... you" And with that she quickly fled to her room. 

And Stev closed the door. " You were supposed to lock the door"

"Me?! I was busy getting fucked in the ass. You came in last; you should have locked the door."

"I came out the shower. Through that door not this door. You came in through this door last so it's your fault."

"Is not"

"Is to"

"Is not"

"Is to"

" I'm not arguing with you." Bucky said, "Let's take a shower, get dressed, and finally put on those baby safety knobs you said you were going to put on two weeks ago"

Steve sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. " I was busy". 

-

Good 

(Y/n) walked in and found Bucky leaning against and gripping the bathroom counter and Steve kneeling before him, bobbing his head up and done on his cock. She stood at the door for a moment, just watching. Watching as Steve held on to his hips, he slowly moved his head while licking the underside of his cock, as he looked up at him through his eyelashes. Watching as Bucky leaned against the sink, gripping the counter with one hand and running his fingers through Steve's hair with the other, watching him with hooded eyes. 

"That's not good for your hips," She said, bringing attention to herself. " How about we move this to the bed, yeah?"

Standing back up, Steve gives Bucky a peck and then crosses the room to give (y/n) a full-on kiss. (Y/n) kept kissing him as she walked backward to the bed. He began to put on her dress, trying to unbutton it when she stopped him. 

"Let's try something else," She said. She unbuttoned her dress further, opening the front. Bucky came up behind Steve, kissing his shoulder and neck. He bent him over on the bed, and (Y/n) pulled his head into her lap. Leaning over him, Bucky kissed (y/n) as he slowly pushed into Steve, he whimpered and hissed as Bucky thrust into him.  (Y/n) ran her fingers through his head and scratched his scalp. The feeling was soothing and overwhelming all at once. Really, it was something he never felt before. 

He whimpered more as he pushed his face into (y/n) stomach. 

"Fuck" Bucky moaned as he held on to his hips, thrusting into Steve " Fucking perfect. Isn't he fucking perfect"

"Perfection" (Y/n) watched as Steve opened his mouth, letting out a string of moans. " You fit perfectly. Where you belong, isn't that right, Steve?" he moaned. " Use your words, baby boy"

"So good...so perfect," he groaned. " Fit," he whimpered, digging his nails into her side. He chokes as Bucky picks up and puts his head on the edge of the bed, giving him a much deeper angle. 

(Y/n) continued to run her fingers through his hair as Bucky's thrusts pushed him further into her stomach. He moaned as she tugged lightly.

Suddenly, they pulled back. Steve was confused as Bucky suddenly pulled out, and (Y/n) pulled away, removing his arms. He was turned over to his back before he could express his confusion out loud. 

"FUCK" he moaned as Bucky thrust back into his knees to his chest, his head once again in (y/n)'s lap she held one of his hands while the other dug into the sheets.

(Y/n) watched as pleasure washed over his face, each thrust came with a soft moan."Beautiful," she said.

Bucky let out a particularly loud groan. Pulling out, he took both his cock and Steve in one hand, stroking them both. 

"I-I...help," Bucky said 

Reaching forward, (Y/n) took over, stroking both of them slowly. 

"You need help?" she asked seductively as she wiped her thumb over both their tips they were leaking, nearly ready to bust. "You need my hand?"

"Only yours," Bucky moaned. They both arched their backs into her touch. 

"Then tell me, tell me how good I make you feel. Tell me how good it is." 

"too good, so good," Bucky groaned as he leaned forward, kissing her. 

" Fuck me, please feels so good," Steve begged, letting go of the sheets he reached up and grabbed her breast, letting go of his hand. She grabbed at the breast he was holding. Steve watched as they kissed above him, exchanging moans and tongues. 

Steve started thrusting up against Bucky and into (y/n) hand. 

"Cum.... Cumming" Steve moaned out as he came spilling onto his stomach. 

And the sight of and sound of Steve was enough to Bucky over the edge, spilling onto his stomach as well. Cum mixing together. 

Bucky falls over to the side. The three sit for a moment in silence, with (y/n) running her hands through both of their hairs. 

Steve took hair hand and kissed it. Kissing her fingertips, knuckles, and wrist going up her arm (Y/n) sees what he's doing and quickly stops him, pulling her arm away. 

"What's wrong?" they both sit up. " Are you alright?"

"There's nothing wrong." (Y/n) said as she removed her dress completely, tossing it into a chair in the corner of the room. 

"You just don't want to?" Bucky said, relaxing slightly because she wasn't hurt, at least not physically, from what he could see. 

"No, I do, I really do," She said as she reached forward, kissing him. " You don't know how much I want to. But I can't"

"Why?" Steve asked 

"She says I have to take it easy, shouldn't risk anything, at least not for a while"

Now they were confused and concerned "What? Who? Why?" 

"Dr. Tsunade" 

And that, paired with her grin, was all the explanation they needed. Suddenly, Steve jumped out of bed, picked up  (Y/n), and twirled her around, but then he stopped quickly, putting her back down just as quickly as he picked her up. He hesitantly but gently put his hand on her stomach. 

"Bucky," Steve said as he looked at him, "there's a.... we're having...haha".

Bucky placed a hand, his right hand, on her stomach." It's ours"

"That's what I came to tell you. But you guys were busy. I didn't want to interrupt."

"You should have interrupted. I could suck his dick anytime. This- This is a miracle." Steve said, gently kissing her stomach." this is our miracle"

"Yeah, Yeah, it is" 

"Our baby"

#polyamorous #polyamourous series #polyamourous #fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #avengers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #stucky x reader smut #stucky x reader #stucky fanfiction #stucky smut #stucky #steve roger x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers

[ghouljams]

ANOTHER FASHION HISTORY NERD!!! YOU MAKE ME CRY TEARS OF JOY!!!

I hate seeing a period piece and then: ‘he pulled her panties down’ it gives me the ick… pantaletts are a sexy concept! Just get through all the ribbon, silk and lace of her skirts? There’s no barrier, it’s sexy! It’s like crotchless panties but, better… idk why it’s better but, it is.

(I love those novels!!! ‘titillate’ is a funny word and very accurate to use as a descriptor. It feels like a cross between giggly and turned on, y’know?)

Lord Mactavish is so *sigh* … just picturing him in any way shape or form… when they’re actually married he takes her (us) back to his mansion? Chasing her through the manor house; through the winding halls… taking her (us) against the carpet until your knees are covered in rug burn. (I picture the massive mansion from the secret garden)

(Servants are scared to roam at night. It’s too awkward to look your lord and lady in they eye after seeing that)

When you go to get your dresses for the season, he comes with. “Leave extra room- need to alter it for her pregnancy soon.” You’re not pregnant. He intends to fix that and parade you around at every gala.

On god I am staring at period undergarments just to make sure I'm not misremembering when pantaletts became a thing lol. They weren't popular during the regency period so we can just pull the skirts up (drool) It's so much better than crotch-less panties you're right.

You're fucking doing something to me... Lord Mactavish parading you around at every gala, he knows full well that not everyone thinks it's proper to have you out and about when you're showing, he also knows that he's supposed to be using euphamisms. He still settles a hand on your stomach and proudly announces that his wife is "bred just like she's supposed to be" which gets him smacked and gets you fucked in whatever room he can get you into quickest. Grrrrrr I want him.

More Bodice Ripper Soap...

He likes this little game you play, you know he does. Barely married, and he's taken every opportunity(on every surface) to make sure you remember it. You can hear him whistling through the corridors of his manor, letting you know where he is at all times. It's also a warning to any servants still awake and busying themselves about the place. Your heart hammers in your chest as you press yourself back behind the door of the study. You know he saw you come this way, you made sure to close and open various doors along the way to try and throw him off.

It's funny, the anticipation of being caught makes your stomach heat, makes wetness slick your thighs. It's terribly improper, being chased through the house by your husband, you can't even remember what sparked it this time. He'd said something, he always says something, and you'd called him exactly what he is, a rake, a bodice ripper. He's laughed, mirthful and dark as the night outside your windows. Then he'd done just that, gripped your nightdress between two hands and ripped it open. Even now you're clutching it closed over your chest, feeling the frantic flutter of your heart under your fingers, and pretending it doesn't do something sinful to you.

The whistling comes close, you turn your head to peak through the crack left by the hinges. Your husband in all his glory, still in his hunting clothes, you half expect to see him carrying his gun or rope. His hands are lax by his sides as his eyes sweep the hall. He slows by an open door and turns to investigate. You're careful, quiet, as you make your way around the door, eyeing the room nearest you.

You can't stay here, not if he's stopping to look around. Your best bet is running, and hoping he doesn't catch you coming out. You tiptoe to the next room, press yourself to the wall and listen for Johnny's whistle. You close your eyes tight and hear him wander into another room. You take a steadying breath and poke your head out again, determined to make a run for it.

You dart past the next door, or try to. Johnny catches you by the throat, his thick fingers curling menacingly around your neck as you come to an abrupt halt. Your hands fly to his wrist and his grip tightens ever so slightly. "Caught you," He growls, "Shouldn't run from your husband, love." You're pulled against his chest, and bullied to the ground. He's not gentle putting you on your knees, but at least he has the compassion to follow you.

Compassion that flies out the window when his hand leaves your neck and grips your hair tight, pushing your face to the hall's carpet as he pulls your skirt up. You choke feeling his fingers prod your sopping cunt. Johnny makes a noise, a soft, pleased sound that has heat prickling over your skin. He drags his fingers through your folds, collecting the slick, enjoying the heat, before his touch leaves you. You squirm without meaning to, your hips moving to follow his fingers. He hums, fabric rustles, and then you hear him slicking his cock with your wetness.

"Fuck this pussy," He leans over you, forces you to take his weight, the blunt head of his cock teasing your entrance, "tell me she doesn't want me, that you don't love this."

You can't, it wouldn't be true, and he knows it. The best you can do is try to hide your face, nearly impossible with Johnny holding your hair so tightly, and whimper, "Can't."

"Can't what hen?" Johnny coos, "Can't tell me? Or can't take it?" You shake your head against the carpet, try to, at least. Johnny releases your hair, his hand moving to grip your hip hard enough to bruise instead. He ruts against you, his cock just catching at your entrance before slipping back over your slick folds. He presses his forehead between your shoulders. On another man it might be an almost tender gesture, but on Johnny it rings alarm bells in your head. "I'll make it fit," The smile in his voice makes your eyes roll back, "don't worry."

The tip of his cock presses more insistently against you, pushing into your cunt. Your back arches, your nails clawing the carpet as you gasp and whine. He stretches you open on his cock, the heat of his skin burning the same way the stretch does, like he's hoping he'll reshape you for himself. He shushes you, keeps you held tightly in place as he rocks his thick cock into you. You shake and shiver under him, knowing it only spurns him on. There's nothing you can think of that turns this man off of you, he seems annoyingly predisposed towards finding you charming.

Though perhaps charming isn't the right word. Tempting. No, tempted men don't always give into their wants. Your husband has never restrained himself around you, tempting you are not, you're magnetic, destined to attract the Lord Mactavish at every crossing.

You clench on his cock, feel his hips press against your ass, feel every tantalizing inch of him. You feel his teeth ghost over the back of your neck as he drags his cock out of your cunt. "Scream for me wife," He tells you,

and you do.

#cod x reader #x reader #cod x oc #x oc #john soap mactavish #john soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish smut #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #soap cod #soap #john mactavish #soap call of duty #soap mw2 #soap x reader #regency au #oc: moon #Lord Mactavish I am *fans self* #I worship only one lord and it's not the one in the bible #mdni

[usedpidemo]

Knockin on heaven's door (Lee Chaeyeon)

> ​​5 minutes in heaven with chaeyeon (just something inspired by the knock mv and her being inside a wardrobe) - @idevian

——————

“God dammit.”

The worst thing about college wasn’t the outrageous student debt, nor the mountains of units and classes you needed to juggle. It was the parties. 

It was always the parties.

Not a couple of weeks passes by without some wild party hosted by some rich nepo kid. There isn’t really a reason that justifies the occasion except to celebrate for celebration's sake. An excuse to let loose and relax from the stresses of the semester; a reasonable justification—if not for the copious amount of drugs, alcohol, and sex that happens in them. Every scene plays out like a parody, an ironic twist of fate that realizes your worst assumptions and stereotypes of college after graduating high school. 

And the worst part is: no one escapes completely unscathed, not even you.

You make one thing clear: you don’t despise parties—you just didn’t want any piece of it. It stands to reason then that you usually take refuge in the many corners of the house, away from the madness and debauchery of it all. Exposure to their degeneracy proves to be near-unavoidable. You’re essentially the designated driver for your friends, who are none the wiser. Often, they’re the first ones in, last ones out. The moment they step foot inside, they basically forget your existence until dawn. They’re insufferable, but you’d otherwise remain a loner without them, for better and for worse.

In a sea of people, someone manages to spot you. It’s not the gaze of a burgeoning romance or friendship; their eyes evidently spell out drunkenness, and their zombie-like motions toward you are about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the face. A little push and pull. You suddenly find yourself being escorted to a huge circle that raises immediate red flags. Even the slightest whiff of the room laced with crack triggers your fight or flight impulses. Thankfully, it only takes the simplest and most cliche of excuses to create a path of escape.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

With their impaired judgment, you’ll soon be an afterthought to them—or at worse, a horde of makeshift zombies banging at the door. The bathroom would be too obvious. It was never the destination.

Sneaking around the crowd, you find a door conveniently tucked away from the madness and rush toward your freedom. On the other side lies complete darkness, and if not for a foot teetering on the edge of some hidden stairs, you’d be a dozen steps away from a concussion and several stitches. A hidden basement sealed away from the house, blocking most of the noise.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

As expected, the actual basement is nothing but clutters of dusty boxes and forgotten relics, with a few tiny windows hidden behind the piles. Little light peeks through the otherwise pitch black room, but a bit more exposure runs the risk of your retreat getting exposed. You’d more than happily sit here until you can weasel your way out in the morning, when everyone’s blacked out and completely fucked from party overdose, or when the rich kid’s angry parents find you sleeping on the floor. 

You’ve taken overnight shelter in far worse, unforgiving places. 

Suddenly, you feel a breath of warm air tickle through your ear and skin. “Guess I’m not the only one stuck tonight.”

It’s a ghoulish whisper that impulsively causes you to drop your phone while opening its flashlight. What little the light reveals is a hint of pale flesh and blonde strands covertly moving like a predator stalking its prey. You feel something on your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine. Clawlike nails thread through your hair, slowly entrapping you beyond escape. Your eyes tilt to the side, only to find the groove of lush dark lips forming a pretty smirk.

All it takes is another whisper. “Boo.”

“Shit!” You flail your arms panickedly, swinging them around like a child with no fighting experience. You hit nothing but air. If not for the darkness concealing you, it would be a humiliating sight, the kind that gets posted and clowned upon on social media. 

The figure grabs you by the wrists, stares so sternly it warrants attention. Its tone is just as sharp, too. “Don’t get us caught, goddammit.”

You pause, take a moment to gather yourself, then another to scan the shadowy stature, looking at you now with wary and concern. Peering through the darkness, its eyes glint with a distinct sparkle. It speaks again with a more tempered voice. “You okay now?”

A silence briefly falls. You stare back to familiarize and scan the figure. A moment of clarity comes upon you. “Wait—aren’t you—”

You recognize her face plastered on the accomplishment board, primarily under athletics and sports. It simply couldn’t be anyone else but Lee Chaeyeon, a polarizing figure within the student body. You’ve heard whispers from varying accounts. For some, she’s practically the greatest athlete to ever grace the institution, a generational talent in every department she excels in. To her teachers, she barely shows up to classes because of her athletic commitments, and a peek through the records shows she’s barely holding on in her academic obligations. 

At times, she’s felt like a myth, mainly because you’d only hear her from others. You never saw her once in a school uniform. Hell, you only knew she was around because other people claimed to have seen her, but they could have been spreading misinformation.

“What? Chaeryeong?” She raises an eyebrow, puckers her lips, partially confused and mildly annoyed, while lowering your arms before finally letting them go. She knows what you said. “That’s my little sis. She’s a lot cuter than I am. You need to get your eyes checked.”

“No, no.” Blissfully unaware, you’re quick to emphasize your point. “You’re Chaeyeon, head of the dance club and athletics division.”

“No? I’m Chaeryeong, head of the music department,” she says, sarcastic, but now with a playful smile. “No shit, I’m Chaeyeon.”

“I—I never expected to meet you here of all places,” you say, awkwardly smiling and tapping your fingers together nervously.

“I didn’t expect anyone would find this spot.” Chaeyeon turns around, brushing her long blonde locks in an alluring way that leaves you awestruck. Admittedly, it’s a little bit attractive how unabashedly sleazy she looks. Even in her clean pictures, you can tell she hates the idea of looking clean. While everyone else attends these parties at their best, only to come out a complete mess, she clearly recognizes the pointlessness in such vanity. “Great timing, too. I was gonna make a run for it.”

“So, why are you here again?” 

“Boredom.” Her reply is almost immediate, flippantly delivered, that it’s convincing. She has better things to do than hang around at random parties. “I just came for the free food.” She chuckles remembering the thought, while her eyes wander around the room, searching for something, anything.

“Just like me, huh,” you respond with blind confidence, as if it’ll give you both a common ground to share, when in reality, she doesn’t care. If anything, she only amuses you because she allowed you to entertain her, and you’re doing about as good of a job as anyone when it comes to catching her attention—a.k.a failing spectacularly. 

Chaeyeon turns around and faces you again with a curious, intimidating look. “And what do you know about that?”

Gulp. “About what?”

She tilts her head and doesn't utter another word, as if expecting you to know what she means. You clearly don’t. On her lips is a dour pout, disappointed by your impulsive tongue. None of it makes any sense, and trying to figure her out seems like a fool’s errand. 

“Thought so,” is the only thing she ends up saying, and an air of awkward silence falls on you both as she roams around the basement, presumably searching for a passage out. “You wanna be useful?” she suddenly snaps at you, her stare peering through a valley of boxes.

“What do you want me to do?”

“You wanna get out of here or what?” she spits, turning to you, gaze grimacing and tone scathing. Joining her, you both take note of a narrow hatch hidden behind even more dusty packages.

—————

Well, you may have just played the most awkward game of seven minutes in heaven in your life. 

The ride home is even more unsettling.

Chaeyeon remains dead silent, comfortably slumped back against the passenger seat of your car, keeping you at arm’s length. Occasionally glancing to your side, you’re driving, focused on the road ahead. The muted sound of radio blaring through the speakers is the only thing that keeps awkward silence from permeating throughout the vehicle. 

You can’t get her to show any form of emotion other than apathy.

Wanna have something to eat? Nothing. 

Where’s your place? Also nothing.

Where would you like me to drop you off? Still nothing.

Got any friends to meet up with? Again, nothing.

Most people would have given up by now. It’s not a good look, the kind that encourages ostracizing. Patient as you are, though, you still hope she opens up, but whenever your eyes meet, she gives you the coldest shoulder imaginable. She wants nothing to do with you. The way she stares, the tiredness peeking through her brown irises, the slow, detached gaze that examines you before lightly looking away—the very idea of interacting with people poisons her, ruins her, breaks her.

You pull off at a gas station a few blocks away from your apartment. Shutting down the engine, you gently say, “I’m gonna buy a snack. You want anything?”

She slowly turns back in your direction, very disconnected from you she can’t be bothered to look you in the eye. Her lips twist, as if ready to speak her mind, but only air ultimately comes out. As you expected by now.

“Fine,” you follow, deflecting her cold demeanor back at her. “Just wait here, then.”

After stepping out of your car, right as you’re about to enter the shop, you hear a sharp thud sound. Looking back, you find Chaeyeon, also outside, rubbing her arms from the cold air bothering her, trembling nervously. 

You call out to her, loud enough to draw anyone’s attention.

“Borrow my jacket?”

She doesn’t pay you any heed.

—————

“I seriously don’t understand you,” you murmur, as if it’ll bring her out of her shell or change anything, if your previous attempts at reaching out to her in a friendly manner are any proof. It’s late at night; you’re both casually staring at your car—the only noteworthy thing in this gas station—and you couldn’t be any more different. You’ve almost emptied your little cup of instant noodles, while she smokes through her dwindling cigarette, blowing smoke in your direction, still purposefully uncaring. The vapor doesn’t make you crack, but her coldness does. “Why did you ask me to drive for you? What’s the point? I don’t know what you want.”

It’s probably not the best time to show even the slightest frustration. Then again, she’s been deliberately dispassionate the entire time. Anyone else would have given up at this point, but there’s an allure to her, you admit, that keeps you interested, and not just because she’s a known name within the student body. Popularity was never the goal, but like everyone else, you simply wanted to know who Lee Chaeyeon is. She’s one of the biggest mysteries within the school; an all-star athlete with a peculiar aura surrounding her. From what you’ve seen so far, it’s not all that remarkable. She's sassy and apathetic, dry, sarcastic humor is her primary weapon, and she dresses like an escort. Perhaps this is all just a mix up, that this isn’t really the Chaeyeon, one of the best athletes to ever grace the university.

If not for the resemblance with her younger sister, the sweet girl from the music club, they couldn’t have been any more different. Are they really from the same family?

“Much better.” She returns her cigar to her mouth, huffs another round, then releases a new wave, thankfully not in your direction this time. Facing you, she looks you right in the eye. It’s different. There’s no apathy behind them, but instead, genuine interest. “I just wanted a free ride outta there.”

“That’s it?” is your reply, confused. Maybe you’re thinking these words through a bit too much, trying to find deeper complexity from a simple answer. You’ve met more complicated characters before, and to a certain degree, you can relate to her.

“Yeah.” Chaeyeon drags another whiff, but intentionally smokes away. “People just suck.”

In a strange, twisted way, she reads through your mind, says something that, quite frankly, leaves you even more in disarray. “Don’t think hard about it.”

Wide-eyed, you try averting your gaze in a poor attempt to feign ignorance. “Think about what?”

“You know,” she says, songful, gives you a rather taunting stare, eyebrows raised, as if expecting you to understand what she’s on about—deep down you know what that is—while flicking the ashes of her cig down on the table. Admittedly, it’s somewhat cute. Smirking, she adds, “Do I have to make it obvious to you, bird brain?”

“Fuck off.”

“There you go.” Chaeyeon leans back, chuckles, takes delight in making you look like the bad guy, that wicked, mocking grin on her lips a few inches wider than before. Only now do you perceive the true predicament; both of you secretly playing mind games, examining each other, trying to get on the other’s nerves until they eventually break. “I guess I win.”

“Win? We’re not playing games.”

“I got you to drop the nice guy act. I won.” 

Another huff, another smoke.

“That doesn’t mean much.”

“That’s what every loser says. Remember what I said? People suck.”

“We just met a few hours ago, and you’re telling me I suck?” Your volume grows slightly louder.  “After giving you a free ride out of that party?” 

“And who got you out of there first? Hmm?” Chaeyeon’s driving you mad, but now for a completely different reason. “Let me make it clear: I knew about the secret passage even if you hadn’t stumbled your way inside that basement. You were just lucky to find me at the right time.”

“Forget about the basement!” You find yourself slowly unraveling, slowly coming undone, your screws on the brink of loosening. She licks her lips, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

It’s sudden, it’s loud, it’s sharp. The words reverberate around the shop resoundingly that in any other setting, it’s what incites a public incident, gets both of you expelled and shamed in school. Maybe just you, knowing there’s a high likelihood of preferential bias the faculty may have for one of their most accomplished pupils. Regardless, you find yourself covering your mouth, as if you’ve just spoken some unspeakable destruction into existence. Even she ends up speechless.

The next moment is even more destructive: Chaeyeon’s lips suddenly cover yours.

—————

“Fuck, that’s good,” mutters Chaeyeon, between a shower of seemingly endless kisses on your lips, shoving you against the wall of the bathroom beside the convenience store. The doors are locked, with not a single soul’s around to interrupt you. Either way, she proves to be too much—too much to fight, with both words and actions, that you quickly give in, much sooner than she expected.

It’s not that you never considered the thought of kissing Chaeyeon—at times, they were a little tempting if not for the fact that she’s a smoker—but rather how delectable her lips are, even with the tainted scent of smoke etched on them. She passionately makes out with you, drives her tongue between yours, drives the wedge that seemingly kept you both apart, and no amount of self-righteous character can bury that want, that craving for affection—and sex.

“You do this with every man you meet?” You forcefully rip yourself from the kiss, only to find your lips dragged back in almost immediately. She knows it’s a futile effort to gain control, something you never had right from the start. 

“Fuck no,” she mouths between even more pecks. “Consider yourself incredibly lucky.”

She’s tugging on opposite ends of your shirt, threatening to rip them apart, something you recognize. Even as you continue to make out, with your hands exploring and marking new territory in the form of her divine figure, you make time for her, letting her freely own you by lifting the obstructive clothing over your head before she promptly tosses it aside in return. Her lips gradually slide down and make themselves familiar with you; your neck first, then your collarbones, smiling to herself as she marks each part as hers with her teeth, while creating more friction by palming your bare chest.

“Finally, someone who’s actually hot,” she quietly mouths to herself, though you can hear her loud and clear. You’ve got a response, a retaliation, but you choose to bask in the moment, acknowledge how good she already makes you feel in the form of a light groan.

Her hands slide down the steep hill that is your torso, until they find more difficult fabric. Locking eyes with yours, she works on your pants, keeping you suspended as she figures out how to claim her rightful prize. Behind those brown pupils is a burning lust, a raging flame consuming her from within, eager to take what she wants; it’s not the same cold stare from before. 

“How long have you wanted me?” she asks, followed by the gentle whir of your zipper as she slides down your pants and boxers in one swing. Before you can formulate a reply, you suddenly release an airy gasp—your only response—caught unaware by her deft, silky hand pressing on your balls and your raging cock. Her smirk widens, amused and absorbed by your electric reaction. 

She continues to fiddle with your cock, giving it one slow, but delicate pump after another, as you fall under her dizzying spell. Forget about the question; the answer is quite clear, based on the stickiness slowly building up between her hand and your cock. Pleasure begins to spike all over your body, and almost single handedly ends you, if not for her other hand keeping you steady against the wall. It’s a little too soon—a little too much for your brain to comprehend.

Her gaze lingers on yours, watching you gradually crumble in real-time; you’re no better than anyone else in this situation. It’s amusing, gets cute, sweet, playful looks that seemingly brighten her day after what seemed to be an absolute disaster. She knows what she’s doing and she loves it. Your hands cling to shoulders, feel the softness of her skin, and it sparks a fire in her eyes, quick to spread and consume.

“Tell me how long you’ve wanted me,” she repeats herself, the bright glint in her eyes and her grin more mischievous than serious. Determined to get the answer out of you, she tightly cups your balls, drawing out a deep groan. “I know you’ve been staring at me since we met.”

She’s not entirely wrong. Even in the darkness of that desolate basement, you knew she was drop-dead gorgeous. It became clear under the pale moonlight that she was even hotter: a black crop that teased the subtlest of cleavage, exposed her toned midriff, and jeans that accentuated her shapely ass. Yes, even when you thought she wasn’t interested, she knew your stare never departed. 

“Since always.” Not the best answer; you both literally just encountered each other earlier that night, but it’s the most logical. Not a single girl in college made you hot and heavy like this. Sure, some of them were cute, her sister included, but none of them had that appeal, that love at first sight attraction that Chaeyeon carried. 

Her free arm reaches up to the zipper of her shirt, presses her cleavage together a little. There’s amusement on her features watching in your eagerness to watch them slip. She contemplates the thought, painfully stalling the inevitable by a few precious seconds, then she unzips her top down. One side of the sleeve slides down her shoulders, then the other, until only a matching black bra remains. 

It promptly joins the other clothes on the opposite end of the bathroom, completely irrelevant. 

You and Chaeyeon make quick work of her jeans before you’re quickly drawn together like magnets, feeling each other’s hot, sweaty skin, entangled like a complete puzzle making out against the walls. It’s an intense back and forth, a tug of war as you both desire complete ownership of the other’s body. Each torrid kiss screams of desperation, not intimacy, to be used, to be consumed. 

Spacious as the bathroom is, you can’t seem to find common ground. One moment you’ve got her pinned against the furthest stall, the next she has you fastened in another, until you eventually acquaint yourselves with all three cubicles. Both of you know where this is going and where it should lead; you just don’t know how you can get there. There’s plenty of distractions in front of you, mainly Chaeyeon’s perfect naked figure, a leg wrapped around your hip, and the gleam in her eyes wanting and yearning. It’s dangerous; temptation lurks everywhere you look. If not for the arms wrapped around your neck, occasionally dictating that you only look at her lust-filled face between kisses, the rest of her body would earn your worship. 

Chaeyeon moans, writhes in your grasp, slowly relinquishing control over to you. From her bottom lip, you slip them down to her neck, and she trembles, clings tighter, feeling weak. Her hands pinch the back of your hair, mouth mumbling airy, faint words. It’s passionate, sinful, and tender—something you never expected with an otherwise rough woman like her.

“God, you’re so hot—” you hiss, gasping as her touch arouses you. “Mmm—”

She suddenly regains composure, stops you a breath away from her chest, then pulls you back toward her face. Another deep kiss. “Enough. I’m not in the mood for love making tonight.”

Regretfully, she removes herself from your clutch, pulling you by the hand instead to lead you to the bathroom sink. Every time she kisses you, her lips smell of alcohol and lipstick, and it never gets old. You wonder if she simply likes kissing or if she’s conveying some kind of message that you somehow have to decipher. She notices the curious expression on your face, lets out this droll laugh that gives off the assumption you’re onto something, when really, she’s as unpredictable as ever.

There’s nothing funny, nor is it supposed to be, but it makes no sense, perfectly in line with her character.

Before the awkwardness looms over you again, she grabs you by the waist, pushes you forward to impale her. Her back arches against the sink, perfectly spaced between her torso and legs. She spins around, flaunts her shapely curves that immediately capture your attention—and your hands. Ignore her steely glare that pierces through your reflection in the mirror; her flesh melts, molds comfortably in your grasp, as if they were tailor made for you. 

She grunts, loses control again, but it’s only momentarily. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Even though you’ve seen her look vulnerable, her sharp attitude keeps you on edge, stops you from committing a sinful act. Your cock is in the perfect position to ruin her, break the facade and the space between you, but it’s not a fight worth contending, especially when she follows up with a dagger that almost pierces your heart. “Keep it between my legs.”

You immediately knew what she meant. To be quite honest, it’s a little disappointing. All that preamble, pleasantry, the tease of something more, only to be shot down before it even starts—it’s almost disheartening. Of course, you had no room to complain, not when she’s splayed out in her barest, practically giving you free reign over every other part of her, but something feels—off, incomplete.

Chaeyeon spreads her legs wide, gracious to space your cock right in its center. Her cunt is on full display, ripe and ready to be used, to be fucked. Unfortunately, you won’t get to have any piece of it without her word. It’s near-impossible to look away, spellbinding you with an unforgettable mental image. The thought of—or the lack thereof—filling her pussy torments you. Even as her smooth, perfect thighs sandwich your cock, the notion poisons your mind, leaves you wandering and aimless, until the perfect amount of friction strikes and—

“Fuck.”

It’s smooth, suffocating, devastating. Now you truly have nothing to whine about, except to whine about how tight her legs feel around your cock, rubbing and stroking yourself between her thick thighs. Barely hanging on, you press your hands on her shoulders, losing yourself in the pleasure quickly. Thanks to the little flecks of precum from before, sliding between her heat proves to be much easier. 

Slowly but surely, you grow accustomed to her asphyxiating warmth, unable to process anything beyond the slickness and powerful sensations around her flesh. Eyes closed, you moan in prolonged, deep spurts, resting your head beside hers. Her feelings don’t matter at this moment, only yours. You don’t realize her hand is gripped to your thigh, only that it amplifies the surge of pleasure coursing throughout your body. A possible reminder to keep your cock away from her cunt, but you didn’t need it anymore—her thighs are more than enough.

“Yeah. Fucking enjoy it, horny bitch.” Chaeyeon’s tone and expression seemingly derives no enjoyment from watching you lose it, as if it’s only an obligation and not something both of you share pleasure in. She moans, but it’s faint and weak. “That feels good, right?”

“It does,” you blurt, trapped in the heavenly bliss between her legs, loving every little motion. “So good, Chaen, holy fuck—”

She sees you visibly struggling and helplessly trying to gather air, smiles and laughs at your predicament. It’s a mess; it’s her schadenfreude. Delightful, she thinks to herself, now playing along with her lewd expressions plastered on the mirror. Unconvincing, if not a bit too much leaning towards parody. She’s waiting for the opportunity to get the edge over you, the killing blow. 

Tightening her grip around your cock, her toned legs collapse, and you can feel the fire in your loins gradually building and hurling toward a calamitous explosion. There’s nothing you can do to stop—not that you ever want to, watching your cock slide in and out her thighs at a perfect rhythm is its own reward—only praying that the moment lingers a bit longer. You’ve got both hands pinched to her taut nipples, thankfully unresisted, kissing around her collarbone and ear, trying in vain to stifle the endless string of curses and moans leaving your lips.

It doesn’t help that her voice is seductive, downright merciless, repeatedly goading you into submission, staring at your reflection expectantly. “That’s it. Cum for me, bitch. You won’t ever get this kind of opportunity with anyone else but with me. No one else will ever make you feel this good. Just cum, and cum, and cum—”

The word rings in your head, hypnotic, borderline leaning toward brainwashing. It isn’t gaslighting when she has a point; she feels so fucking incredible, so tight and hot and suffocating—no one else can possibly compare. Then again, ecstasy is the only thing running through your head, clouding your better judgment. You’ve got a hand digging through her endless sea of blonde locks, pumping between her thighs, each thrust sorer than the last, like you’ll regret the action in the morning. 

“I’m so close, Chaen. I’m going to cum,” you say desperately. 

There’s that familiar twinkle in her eyes, and a mischievous grin forming on her lips. Troubling. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you say, your cock aching painfully between her wet, toned thighs. 

“Please.” 

“Please!” you shout, teetering dangerously close to the edge, threatens you and Chaeyeon. Again, slowing down proves to be impossible. You’re so far gone.

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum! Please let me cum, Chaen, oh God.”

“That’s it. Cum—”

As soon as she lets that word out, the lights immediately turn green. Releasing all your inhibitions, your eyes widen, pumping your cock hurling to that oh-so deserved orgasm between her legs. Her thighs receive every last shot, every single drop. You both moan into each other’s ear, with Chaeyeon finding comfort and satisfaction from feeling the warmth you’ve given her. 

She throws her head back, cranes her neck, brushes a hand around your hair while you pump through your climax. Eventually, your cock slips, winds down to a complete halt. You find your lips returning to her collarbones, taking solace on her sensitive flesh as you remain intimately attached together for a little while longer.

“Shit.” You look down, past the curves of her chest, see the puddles and drops of slick on the floor. She mirrors your gesture, checks the damage between her legs, and it’s a disaster: her thighs are dripping with cum down to her feet, with two noticeable blots parallel to the other. 

“So needy.” Chaeyeon says with a laugh, caressing your cheek, her voice a temptation in your ear, goading you for more. “Not lucky with the ladies, hmm?”

Wistfully, you reply, “Yeah.”

Chaeyeon slowly releases your chin from her hand, slips from your clutch to grab a stream of tissue rolls to clean herself up. You cling to the sink with wobbly legs, staring down at the basin, overcome by a wave of both regret and exhaustion. Unwelcome thoughts creep in. A lack of protection, a return of her dour persona, and your reputations at stake—you’ll entertain them all in the morning, when the honeymoon period ends.

When you look up, you see Chaeyeon in the mirror, almost finished dressing up, fixing her cleavage before zipping up her crop top. She stares back, grinning. “You know you still have to drive me home. So when you’re done pining over not cumming in my pussy—”

“Where? Where's home?”

“Yours.”

—————

(A/N: Finally got to one of the four selected requests! I'm sorry this one took a lot longer than expected, but what can you expect from me XD I still have PCD as I write this down and no amount of copium can help me recover haha. I loved the request as it gave me the perfect excuse to write Chaeyeon again; she's an underrated hottie and I'm glad she (1) quit Queendom Puzzle instead of pushing through and (2) Knock became a surprise hit. It's only a matter of time before her star rises even further. Thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #chaeyeon #lee chaeyeon

[mintmatcha]

tw: cheating accusation

"Are you fucking her?"

Katsuki stands. With a slow, deliberate movement, he places both hands on the table and leans forward, those vermilion eyes finding yours in an unblinking stare.

"You wanna repeat that?" his lip arches in disgust, "Because I'm pretty sure I misheard you."

Your heart beat buzzes across your skin. Anxiety eats at you, but the anger and pain pushes you forward. "Are you fucking her?" 

Bakugo doesn't move, but the vein on his jaw grows more defined as he grinds his teeth together. "Why would you ask me that?"

"You're not saying no."

"Holy shit." He pushes away from the table, pacing over to the sink with his hands tangled in his hair, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

You stay frozen in the doorway, arms folded over yourself. The pressure quells the seasick feeling that’s building in your stomach. "Just say yes or no!"

"Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding?" He grinds out. His hair is still damp from the bath, those distinct spikes plastered against his forehead. It’s barely dark, but he’s already ready for bed, dressed in only an undershirt and his boxer briefs. It’s the Katsuki that only you know- the human behind the hero. “Are you kidding?”

At least, you thought you were the only one who knew him like that.

“That's not a no."

 "No! No! I'm not fucking cheating on you!" Bakugo laughs, sharp and pained. "Holy shit, I don’t even know what brought this up."

You practically throw his bag onto the table. It almost slides off the other side from the force, the open zipper gapping and threatening to spill its contents.

 "Mai dropped off your gym bag." you say her name like it’s a swear. It sticks to your tongue and mind like tar, staining it.

“That's what this is about? Mai?" Bakugo scoffs with a roll of his eyes, the tension in his shoulders suddenly relaxing. You hate how he says it. Mai, Mai, Mai- like she’s something to him. "She's a personal assistant, of course she drops by the house. You’re being crazy." 

You reach inside the side pocket and pull out your discovery; a pink, lace trimmed thong hangs from your finger, a damp patch staining the crotch. It’s hard to hide your pain with disgust as the tears you’ve been holding back start to burn, gathering at the corners of your eyes. His face falls, eyes and mouth wide as he processes exactly what you’re accusing. He starts to talk, then falls abruptly silent, eyes locked on the tiny piece of fabric. The silence aches, filling you with more doubts and worries with every passing second.

Surely he’s coming up with a lie. Surely, he’s thinking of how to hide his indiscretions-  

“I’ve never seen those before.” Bakugo says after a long moment. The look on his face could either be annoyance or sadness- you’re not sure.

“Bullshit! They didn’t just walk there!” The tremble in your voice threatens to turn into sobbing. You ball the fabric up and chuck it at him, watching it bounce off his chest. Bakugo flinches at it, grimacing at the touch-- as if he didn’t touch the woman that owns them, as if he hasn’t seen what belongs underneath,  “You’re fucking her!”

“Oh my god, I’m not having sex with anyone but you!”  he rubs his face over and over, smushing his cheeks, like he’s trying to numb a headache, but the wetness betrays him. Bakugo wipes away the tears furiously, until the skin turns red. “If you’d just fucking calm down and listen-”

“Calm down? Me?”

“Listen!”

“I found out my husband’s fucking an eighteen year old- how am I supposed to be calm?”

"I’m not!”

“Fuck you!”

The despair in him breaks, replaced by a more familiar fury.

“How the fuck can I prove it to you?" Bakugo's hands are bunched tight enough that his fists shake from their own force, stepping closer and closer, closing the gap between you. "Fire all the women on my staff?"

"No!" Your back hits the wall. He's so close and yet you can't stop yelling, the volume cracking your voice, "Of course not!

"Never be alone with another woman? Put a fucking GSP tracker in in my arm? Tattoo your name on my cock?" 

Your faces are inches away from each other, noses practically touching as you scream, "I just don't want you to stick your dick in your assistant!"

The thick, hollow crack has you jumping before you can process what happened.

 For a moment, you think you've been struck deaf; the room goes silent, drowned out with the rhythmic woosh of blood in your ears. Bakugo's face, the only thing you can truly focus on in that moment, shifts from anger to fear, jaw dropping every so slightly. You follow suit as you realize your husband's fist has just punched through the drywall beside you. Bits of white powder drop from his sleeve and onto your shoulder as he pulls back; he watches his limb as if it's not a part of him, like he had no control over it moments ago.

"I-" he whispers with a delicacy you didn't think possible, "I didn't cheat on you.”

Neither of you move. A thin cut on his knuckle begins to blossom with pinpricks of blood, the broken skin slowly filling with crimson until it begins to drip down to his fingers. At first, when your awareness of the room completely returns, you think he’s panting, breath ripping so roughly out of his lungs that it echoes in your mind, but Bakugo is still. He waits with bated breath, watching you suck in breath after breath so fast that your head swims.

“You’re the goddamn love of my life and I’m not going to risk that for some skank.” The shine of his eyes matches yours. His eyebrows bunch together, knitted with confusion and worry. His lips are permanently turned down on one side, pulled there by a thin scar from cheekbone to jaw, but now they tremble into a straight line. “I don’t know what’s going on but, I- I really didn’t touch her.”

He waits for a moment. “I didn’t.”

His voice is strained, resigned, broken.

“Okay.” you whisper. 

“Okay?” he repeats. That bloody hand reaches for you, brushes away a tear you didn’t know had fallen. “You believe me?”

You shrug, pulling away from his touch. The suspicion that these hands have touched another still makes your stomach sour. “ I don’t know.”  

“That’s-”  he inhales sharply, “Progress, I guess.”

Nothing is resolved as you separate from each other. Nothing changes when you both go on with your routine in silence, barely skirting around each other.

Against your better judgment, you sleep by his side. The feeling of that hand on your waist, scab not quite fully formed, makes the tears start again.

[cauliplea]

DR. RATIO X GN! READER!

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─── FLUFF ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────

"Unanswered" Love Letter...

Tags: Fluff, Crack, GN!reader

Summary: Giving a love letter to the stoic doctor, hoping for a relationship or a date, instead getting a grammatical correction. Oh, and you are colleagues because student-teacher is weird. 

☆──────────────────────☆

You felt like a high school girl, standing in front of the class Ratio taught with a love letter in your hand and a dusting of pink on your cheeks. God, you were a grown adult for fucks sake; get a hold of yourself!

 

Taking deep breaths to calm the giddy feeling inside you before you pushed the door open and peeked in to see if Ratio was there.

 

He was, in fact, there, sitting at his desk and looking at papers on his desk. The room was quiet, aside from the occasional sound of the clock ticking. It was around six p.m., and every student had already left, leaving you two alone in a room dimly lit by the sunset's light peeking through the window.

 

Hearing the door open, the man turned his head towards the sound, raising his brow when he saw you enter with a flushed face. You and him weren't really strangers; he just saw you as a "nuisance" that occasionally followed him around and made him feel a weird sensation in his heart. Of course, the man wasn't a stranger to the idea of love, but he refused any romantic thoughts or comments about it.

 

Anyway, it was still weird seeing you here at this hour of the day. He let go of the pen in his hand and turned his chair to face you with his arms resting on the armrests and his cheek on the palm of his hand.

 

"Fancy seeing... you, here. What is it that you want?" He spoke sharply, his demeanor almost bored.

 

You opened your mouth, closing it when you couldn't find the courage to speak, making Ratio agitated as he got up from his chair and walked towards you with his hands clasped behind his back.

 

Stopping in front of you, he leaned down and tilted his head. His eyes bore into yours, and his voice was laced with annoyance when he spoke.

 

"Is there something wrong or not? Do not waste my time."

 

You bit your lip before just taking out the letter from behind your back and extending it towards Ratio. With the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat, you looked away in embarrassment.

 

"What... is this?" Ratio dubiously leaned down to look at the letter, pushing his glasses up as he glanced between your face and the letter. After a bit of contemplation, he finally took the letter out of your hand.

 

Not wanting to see his reaction, you ran out of the classroom, causing him to snap his head back towards you and think about calling after you, but he brushed it off, directing his attention back to the letter instead.

 

When he noticed you disappear out of sight, he went back to his chair, sitting with his legs crossed as he opened up the letter.

 

His eyes drew over the letter once, then twice, then three times. His face heated up more every time he found himself re-reading the words written. He got so flustered to the point that he had to put down the letter and hide his face in his hands to take a breather and process everything.

 

His heart was beating so fast that he could hear it in his ears, his thoughts running wild in his head as he groaned and leaned back in his chair before grabbing the letter again. 

 

He glared at the piece of paper with an embarrassed frown before he pushed his glasses up again and grabbed a red pen. 

 

He was going to check and correct every grammar mistake in the letter.

 

After an hour of correcting everything and writing notes next to some sentences (for example, crossing over every "I love you" and putting two red question marks next to them.) He wrote down '5/10, see me after class.' at the end of the letter in big, bold letters. He hoped it would make it obvious that he wasn't rejecting the confession.

It was the only way he could think of to respond; there was no way he could write a sappy, affectionate letter in response! 

☆──────────────────────☆

Cauliplea On Ao3.

Authors Note: This was supposed to be for valentines day but I am a tad bit late. might make a part two depending on the traction.

betas note: YAOIIIII

#honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr dr ratio #dr ratio #dr. ratio x reader #dr. ratio x you #hsr fluff #fluff

[theostrophywife]

the prince of hell.

my love is a mindless flight risk, never on time but god he's timeless he's a villain, he's a saint, he's a hero—he's a fucking renegade author's note: i've scoured high and low for demon!azriel fics and couldn't find any, so i thought why not write it myself? there will definitely be multiple parts of this. as always, thank @writingsbychlo for listening and participating in my rants about dark daddy az.

song inspiration: masterpiece by sam short.

The church bells tolled in the packed cathedral as you walked through the crowded pews. Each ring that reverberated against the stone walls mimicked the beat of your heart. 

One. Your father clutched your arm, his ironclad grip preventing you from bolting. The false smile he wore held no warmth. Only greed for what he stood to earn by pawning off his only daughter like a prized mare. 

Two. Your mother looked up from her seat at the front of the altar, and the words she had spoken to you before the ceremony echoed through your mind like a death sentence. You’ll learn to love him, she said. As I learned how to love your father. 

Three. Your betrothed leered at you, hunger dancing behind his cold, dead eyes. I will break you, his wicked smile seemed to say. Then I will mold you into a perfect, obedient wife. 

With each step, you came closer and closer to sealing your fate. The shaky breath you released fluttered through your lace veil like a ripple in the ocean. As the hem of your wedding dress kissed the marble mosaic floor, you screwed your eyes shut and prayed. 

Please, you pleaded. Please, save me.

Thunder rumbled through the church. Screams erupted from all sides. The ground beneath you shook as the earth cracked open to release mist and fog from the bowels of hell. 

In the midst of chaos, a winged figure emerged from the shadows. Your heart skipped a beat as you caught sight of the beautiful male. Cloaked in darkness, a pair of familiar glowing golden eyes locked onto yours from across the room. 

The Prince of Hell smiled. “Hello, my heart.”

He had a face like heaven and a voice like sin. A small voice in the back of your head warned you to be afraid, but your heart warred against logic. While everyone else in the room screamed in terror at the sight of the devil, you only saw salvation.

“Azriel,” you breathed. His name sounded like a prayer on your lips. 

You had never seen him before, at least not while you were awake. But you knew that face. You dreamt of him every night. 

Azriel was your favorite fantasy. The beautiful male that took you away from your monotonous life. A figment of your imagination that symbolized all the things that awaited in the world beyond, should you ever be afforded the chance to escape becoming someone’s simpering, obedient little wife. 

He wasn’t supposed to be real, but yet here he was in the flesh. 

“You’re here,” you said, hardly believing the words yourself. “You came.” 

The Prince of Hell pierced you with his gaze. “I will always come for you.”

From behind him, your groom-to-be flicked dust and ash from his doublet before glancing at Azriel with contempt. “Who the hell are you?”

The male was either exceptionally brave or extremely stupid. 

The Prince of Hell regarded Alaric as one would a cockroach—with thinly veiled disgust and the desire to crush the pesky little insect beneath his boot. 

“I am death.” Azriel purred, his voice laced with the promise of violence. “I am shadow and darkness, the monster that haunts your nightmares. I am the Prince of Hell and I have come to collect my bride.”

He held out a scarred hand towards you, barely sparing a glance at Alaric. The male bristled with pride and stepped between you and Azriel. 

Something dark and dangerous flashed in the Prince of Hell’s eyes as he came face to face with Alaric. The side by side contrast emphasized how otherworldly Azriel was. Though he took on a mortal form, there was nothing human about him. 

His ethereal features were slashed with fury, dark hair rippling in waves to frame his flawless face. Flecks of amber burned like embers within his eyes and the contrast against his golden-brown skin further illuminated his strange and cruel beauty. 

“You must be mistaken,” Alaric declared, puffing his chest. “She is my betrothed. We are to be wed this very day.”

Azriel glanced around the room, taking in the stained glass windows and rosewood pews of the crowded cathedral. The people that hadn’t managed to escape trembled in fear under his watchful eyes. The corners of Azriel’s full lips sloped into a frown as he dragged his gaze towards you, examining your white dress and wild expression.

“Your betrothed does not wish to marry you, mortal. ” Azriel declared, his voice barely above a whisper yet full of lethal cold. 

“She is promised to me,” Alaric replied. “I have paid the bride price.”

The humorless laugh that slipped past Azriel’s lips was devoid of emotion. His gaze cut to your father, who cowered behind the marble altar. With one glance, shadows wreathed through his limbs and yanked him towards the Prince of Hell. 

“Tell this male that he is mistaken,” Azriel commanded. 

Your father paled, fear and trepidation evident on his face. “P-p-please, my Prince,” his voice was high and desperate. “I assumed you had forgotten. Years had passed since our bargain, and you hadn’t returned so I—“

“Thought to deceive the Prince of Hell?” Azriel seethed and his shadows whipped violently, tightening their grip on your sniveling father. “Did you not think that this day of reckoning would come?” Shadows brought him to his knees before the dark prince. “A bargain is a bargain, mortal. I want what was promised,” his eyes were feverish as they landed on you. “I want her.”

Your mother blanched in horror as she looked up at her husband. “What have you done?”

“I was only doing what I thought was best!” your father cried. “When famine ravaged the countryside, I grew desperate. I prayed to the old gods, but none of them answered. The Prince—he offered fertile lands and a bountiful harvest in exchange for a bride.” 

“Then what?” you said bitterly. “The reward Azriel offered was not enough for your selfish, greedy heart, was it father? You weren’t satisfied, so you thought to sell me off once again?”

“I did it for our family. We have land! We have gold! We have riches beyond imagination! I have secured a match above your station so you may live comfortably for the rest of your life. I did this for you.”

Tears welled in your eyes. The realization that your father had traded you like some bargaining chip, not once but twice made your stomach roil. You’ve always known that he was a greedy bastard, but you didn’t think he’d go this far. 

“No, father,” you said with mirthless laughter. “You did this for yourself.”

Your father struggled against his restraints as he turned towards his wife. “Tell her,” he coaxed, his words full of despair. “Tell her that I only wanted what was best for her.”

“You promised our daughter to the devil!” your mother screamed, her voice echoing against the stone walls. 

You wanted to tell her that Azriel wasn’t a monster. That he’d held you in your dreams, comforted you when you cried, listened to every wish and whim that you whispered into the night, but she wouldn’t have understood. None of them would. 

“It’s okay, mother,” you said, attempting to appease her agony. “Azriel won’t hurt me.”

As his expression softened, you knew that you’d spoken true. Azriel nodded in agreement. “I would never hurt you,” he declared. His attention cut back to your father. “Him, on the other hand, I have no qualms about inflicting pain upon.”

Your father squirmed in place, shooting a pleading look in your direction. The shadows tightened around his neck like a noose. “Please,” he begged with wide eyes. “Please, have mercy.”

He sounded frantic and desperate, exactly how you had been days ago when you pleaded with him not to wed you to Alaric. Your father hadn’t listened to you then. With your roles reversed, it was tempting to let his pleas fall upon deaf ears, but you decided to be the bigger person.

Azriel waited for your cue. You shook your head and watched as his shadows receded. 

“Thank you,” your father said. “Thank you, daughter.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” you snapped. “I did it for me. From this day forth, I want nothing to do with you. I wish to be free. I am no longer your daughter.”

Hurt and anger flashed through your father’s eyes, but you didn’t care. This was your chance. You could finally rid yourself of this dreary existence. Feeling lighter than you had in years, you turned your attention back to the Prince of Hell. He smiled as you took a step forward.

“Not so fast,” Alaric hissed. “What about what I am owed? I paid for you. I own you.” You shot him a cutting glare as his fingers curled around your wrist. 

Anger bubbled up within you as you bared your teeth at the horrid male. “I am not a piece of cattle to be traded for gold.” Alaric glared as you shoved him away. 

His hateful beady eyes focused on you as he closed the gap between you. “And yet your father sold you like a fattened calf.” His grip on your arm tightened. “You should be flattered. I purchased you for a considerable amount of gold and I expect a return on my investment.” A blade shimmered in Alaric’s hand as he held it up to your throat. “Either from your father or your beloved demon.”

The Prince of Hell was rage and wrath personified. “You want payment, mortal?” Azriel asked, his eyes cold and hard and full of malice. “Very well, then. I will trade you my heart for yours.”

Alaric barely had time to react before Azriel was upon him. Shadows sheltered you from harm while the Prince of Hell slammed the foolish male to the ground. The floor shuddered from the impact as Azriel’s dark wings flared behind his powerful back. You watched in stunned silence as he plunged his scarred fingers into Alaric’s chest, tearing through flesh and bone with brutal efficiency. 

The scream that tore through Alaric’s throat was horrific. Cries of terror echoed through the cathedral once more and those who were able to flee did so with haste. But Azriel was deathly silent as he wrapped a fist around Alaric’s heart. Blood trickled through his wrists and pooled at his feet like crimson tears as he yanked the still beating heart out of the male’s chest. 

The carnage and gore incited a chorus of desperate pleas. Some retched, some clawed at their eyes.

But you simply locked gazes with the Prince of Hell.

As the male beneath him took his last pathetic breath, Azriel tossed his heart on the marble altar. It was sacrilege at its finest. A dark offering. A blasphemous statement to the gods above of the lengths he would go to for you.

“A promise,” he declared, addressing the petrified crowd. Azriel glanced down at the dead male crumpled beneath his feet. “This is what will become of anyone who presumes to come between me and my bride.”

You watched with bated breath as he walked towards you. With bloodstained hands, Azriel caressed your cheek with surprising gentleness. His touch was warm and soft, just as it had always been in your dreams. You closed your eyes, relishing the feel of him. 

“Are you hurt?” Azriel asked softly. His thumb stroked against your cheek, painting a streak of scarlet against your skin. Azriel frowned at the sight of blood and made a move to draw his hand back, but you only laced your fingers through his. 

You looked up to find him studying you. Searching for fear. Waiting for you to scream in terror and run in the opposite direction. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him and sobbed. Azriel was stunned for a second, but he recovered quickly and scooped you up into his arms. He seemed to understand that in this moment, all you needed was to be held.

“I’m fine,” you said through your tears. “I’m fine now that you’re here.”

The Prince of Hell placed a tender kiss on your temple as his wings wrapped around you like a blanket. “Come, my heart,” he murmured in a soothing voice. “Let me take you home.”

taglist: @viradeity @moony-thoughts @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @demirunner @swansworth @heart-defendor @momlo @mali22 @roselensage @searchingford@nessianxgwynriel@azriels-angels@brekkershadowsinger@morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @mattte-black @marina468 @lillithathecathecat @highladyofillyria @navyblue-eternity @margssstuff

#demon azriel is going to be a ride #which is great cause i would like to ride him #azriel #azriel fic #azriel smut #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #azriel spymaster #azriel/reader