#LET NOTHING BAD HAPPEN TO THEM PLEASE I BEG OF YOU | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fettuccin-e · 6 months

Text

It's Never Easy

Kinktober Day 24: Edging

Tags: Steven Grant x Reader x Marc Spector x Jake Lockley, yeah that's right they're all here baby, afab!fem!reader, oral and fingering (f!recieving), unprotected piv (wrap it irl I am begging you), edging, crying during sex, orgasm denial (w/c: 1.3K)

A/N: Yeah that's right the boys are back in town, and by that I mean all three moonboys. They're all little shits and I adore them (For Kinktober, I've been using this list from flightlessangelwings!)

You think that you’re finally wearing Steven down.

He’s been at this for hours now, you think, burying himself between your thighs and losing himself like he never wants to leave. He’s fucking incessant when he gets you like this, licking at your cunt until his eyes have glazed over and he’s grinding slowly into the bedsheets. He moans when you tug at his hair, the vibrations from it going up your spine.

“Fuck, Steven, I need-” you moan, your chest heaving with the way Steven sucks your clit into his mouth, licking at you in a way that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your hips hump into his face, chasing the sensation. “I can’t, fuck, I’m gonna- think I’m gonna-”

He pulls his face away just like that, watching as you shout, your hips grinding into nothing but air as your pleasure and your orgasm dissipate. He holds your thighs apart and just looks at the way you tremble, his eyes wide and a blush high on his face.

“That’s it, darling, so fucking gorgeous,” he mutters, and you grind your teeth together. This is the third time, the third fucking time, he’s done that. Gotten you so close, your body locking up and threatening to fall off that precipice, before he pulls himself away, leaving you with nothing.

It’s fucking maddening, and Steven just watches, squeezing at his thick cock as it aches between his legs.

“Please, Steven,” you whine, high pitched and needy. “Need you to let me cum, fuck, please let me cum.” You sound so pitiful, so desperate, that Steven’s eyes soften at your begging.

“Oh, I know, love,” he murmurs, sliding a thick finger up the seam of your cunt. “Need it so bad, yeah? It’s okay, darling, I’ll let you cum,”

You nearly sob with relief when he leans back down and sucks your clit into his mouth, sinking two fingers into your entrance. He’s relentless, playing with your clit with his tongue, nudging the tips of his fingers into a little spot inside of you that makes you want to cry. Your orgasm surges back up inside you without warning, and you can’t fucking breathe.

You brace yourself for him to do it again, to pull away when you start babbling, “Gonna cum, fuck, please let me cum,” between heaving moans. But Steven doesn’t let up, doesn’t slow down, and you start to smile with the fact that he’s actually going to let you have it this time without pulling away.

Except, he does pull away.

You cry out as Steven’s head shoots up from between your legs again, but you can only watch as his eyes roll to the back of his head, his jaw clenched.

Marc looks up at you from his place between your thighs, a cocky little smirk playing at his lips.

“Oh baby,” he says, and his voice is gruff, dark, so unlike Steven’s. “You didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you?” You gasp for air as Marc sinks a third finger into you, and he grins.

“So pretty when you’re almost fucking there, sweetheart,” Marc murmurs, and he leans close to brush his lips against yours in a whisper of a kiss. “Whining, pleading for us to just let you cum. Steven was going to let it happen, put an end to your misery, but me?” He fucks his hand into you so hard that you choke on a moan. “I like seeing you squirm.”

And the process starts over again.

Marc fucks you on his fingers without a hint of remorse, driving into your g-spot in violent, debilitating thrusts that have you reeling.

You get so close so many fucking times, over and over and over again, your body drawn tight with the overwhelming need to cum. You beg, plead, gripping the bedsheets so hard that you fear you might tear them. But Marc. Doesn’t. Stop.

Every time he feels it, that tell-tale tightening of your body, hears the way you start to go quiet as you focus on finally falling over that precipice, he pulls his hand out of you without any finesse, any mercy.

Around the third time he does it, you really do start to cry, sobbing for Marc to finally let you cum, that you need it so bad it hurts.

“Can’t- it’s too much, Marc, please, please let me, need it so ba-ad,” you hiccup through your moans, tears bubbling up in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks.

Marc leans down and kisses them away, cooing at you as he grinds the calloused tips of his fingers into the most sensitive parts of your cunt.

“Okay, sweet girl, I’ve got you, come on,” he murmurs, his thumb coming up to press against your clit, grinding little circles into it and sending you fucking flying. “Don’t cry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank-” you’re in the middle of thanking him, practically tasting your orgasm on your desperate tongue, when Marc’s eyes roll back, and his hand rips away from your cunt.

“No,” you whine, choking on your tears as your body quakes beneath his, “no, no, please.” You’re practically hysterical, desperate for it after so fucking long, after Steven and Marc have shredded you apart.

“Princesa,” Jake grins down above you, unmistakable with his dark gaze and a smile that is purely fucking primal, feral. “If you think you’re going to cum on anything but my cock, you’re wrong.”

And you can only gasp at Jake notches the thick, leaking head of his cock against your gaping entrance, and shoves himself in to the hilt.

You scream, your back bending into an obscene arch as he fills you up so perfectly.

“Jake, Jake,” you sob through labored breaths, “I can’t, it’s been, I don’t know how long it’s been, please, please. I need to cum, fuck, ‘m begging.”

“Oh, my beautiful girl,” Jake croons, “Of course you can.”

Of course you can. Like you’ve had permission all along, like it was that easy. Like you haven’t been broken apart by each of them, over and over again, reduced to a sobbing, shaking mess beneath their body.

He’s only one, two thrusts in, but you’re coming anyway, screaming with it as tears flow down your cheeks. Your entire body locks up with it, your cunt squeezing tight around Jake’s cock in rhythmic pulses that have him clutching painfully at your hips. Sweet, sweet relief fills your body, like water in a desert, the sun after a hurricane. It’s fucking bliss, incomparable, absolutely debilitating.

“Mierda, that’s fucking beautiful, fuck,” Jake growls, and he presses into your body so deep you think you can feel it in your stomach, and pumps you full of his cum. “Good girl,” you hear him mutter, “Good fucking girl,” before darkness grows into the edges of your vision and quickly swallowing it whole, leaving you to fall into pitch black oblivion.

When you finally come back to yourself, you feel warm, safe. It’s no surprise to you, since you usually feel that way in this flat, in this bed.

“I didn’t fucking kill her, Steven,” you hear Jake growl. “She’s breathing just fine. And don’t act innocent, you and I both know that you worked her just as hard as Marc and I did.”

“And you all better pamper me,” you croak, still refusing to open your eyes, “As soon as I take a nap.”

“Hermosa,” you hear Jake breathe, and you feel his lips press to your forehead. You crack open your eyes to meet Jake’s gaze, his eyes wide and more worried than he usually lets on. “Are you alright? You- you passed out.” he asks, and you giggle.

“Never been better,” you murmur. “But any of you try that shit again, it’s no sex for a fucking year.”

Jake grins in that roguish way that makes your heart flutter. "As if you could resist any of us for that long, mi vida."

#i need to be dicked down by three (3) men #steven grant x you #steven grant smut #steven grant x reader #steven grant x y/n #dom steven #marc spector smut #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #jake lockley smut #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x reader #jake lockely smut #moon knight x you #moon knight smut #moon knight x reader

3K notes · View notes

recreationalfanfics · 1 year

Text

"What A Beautiful Family!"

In which you get confused for being a family

Rengoku:

- It happens during a trip to the store in town with his little brother. Maybe it was to restock groceries or maybe it was buying supplies for his next demon conquest, either way: all three of you went down to visit.

- Rengoku smiled softly at you as he watched you with his little brother, holding his hand and laughing with Senjuro and occasionally lifting him up and spinning around.

- At some point during the walk, Senjuro pointed at some birds flying in the tree and begged Kyojuro for a closer look, which Kyojuro happily allowed him to do and put him on his shoulders with a big smile. You helped Senjuro steady himself and laughed at how precious the two looked.

- As Senjuro and Kyojuro debated about what kind of birds they were, you couldn't help but look at Kyojuro with nothing less than love in your eyes and a fond smile.

- "Aw, how precious!" a woman walking past with a basket filled with baked goods cooed at you three, "I'm glad even with demons terrorizing us, people can still have moments like this. Here, have some!"

- At first you tried to decline out of embarrassment but Kyojuro humbly took them and gave one to Kyojuro and handed a pastry to you. You were hesitant but then you took it and graciously thanked the lady, "but also, I feel bad for not paying for these, ma'am. Please, let me-"

- "Don't you worry about it. A beautiful family like you should enjoy a good snack on such a lovely day, especially since your husband's a hashira."

- Rengoku opened his mouth to let out a hearty "TASTY!" but stopped himself halfway when he heard that. You just stared at the lady in flustered shock as she bowed her head and walked away.

- You and Kyojuro shared a look with each other, Kyojuro giving you a nervous yet wide grin and you returned it. Both of your faces felt warm and you were barely able to hold eye contact with each other.

- "Haha, that lady thought you were (Y/n)'s husband! Isn't that funny, big brother?" and Rengoku's gaze softens as you become timid and look down at your feet, "Yes...I suppose it is, Kyojuro."

Tengen:

- You were walking with Tengen and his wives, happy to see him a bit more after his retirement, when you stumbled upon three neighboring children, who played too roughly and were crying their eyes out about it.

- You and Hinatsuru helped them while Suma tried not to cry with the two boys but offered to help and Makio awkwardly tried to calm them down. Tengen just squatted down and told them that it wasn't very flashy to cry, which made you and Hina elbow him.

- Instead of getting more upset, however, all three boys became excited and seemed to recgonize Tengen, asking him if he was the sound Hashira, which seemed to greatly inflate his ego as he said: "Yes but I am also the God of Festivals!"/ "WOW! REALLY!?"

- You and his wives exchanged glances knowing he wouldn't shut up. When they asked if he could tell him a story of the demons he fought, he tried to be all: "Oh, it might be too scary for you kids...BUT WHAT THE HECK- So I was in the Entertainment District which is filled with prost-"/ "UZUI."/ "IT'S IMPORTANT TO THE STORY."

- Anyways, after some censoring, each boy found a home in your lap, Suma's lap, and another sat on Hinatsuru's but leaned their head on Makio's arm. All of you entranced by Tengen's storytelling and prescence.

- "Haha, such an energetic father. Those boys are definetly gonna grow up strong!"/ "I wonder which of those women are his wife?"/ "From the way they're looking at him, all four, probably."

- Tengen's voice suddenly stopped, most likely because he heard what they said, but instead of correcting him, his eyes landed on you. You could feel Hina's, Suma's, and Makio's gaze on you as well and you felt timid...but not uncomfortable. His lips upturned into a smirk and you felt yourself trying to look at ANYWHERE but the attractive faces that were staring at you.

- "Well, what happened next!?" One of the boys demanded, impatient from the cliff hanger.

- "Huh- Oh, right! Anyways, this demon CAME OUT and he was UGLY. Absolutely hideous, like a monster that crawled from under your bed-"

- When the boys finally were called home, you all waved goodbye and parted ways. Leaving you alone with the retired Hashira and his wives, you didn't say anything but the energy felt different as Suma clung to your arm and Tengen walked closer to you, Makio's eyes would stray towards you but timidly look away when you caught her gaze as Hina wished this walk would last forever. Just the five of you.

#THIS WAS RUSHED BUT IT WAS IN MY DRAFTS FOR A WHILE.#HOPEFULLY YOU GUYS LIKE IT.#kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #uzui x reader #uzui wives #uzui tengen x reader #tengen uzui x reader #tengen x wives x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kny x you

7K notes · View notes

zyafics · 1 month

Text

play fake | part four

series play fake — ( masterlist )

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

summary when rafe cameron needs to secure a gf in order for his father to see him as a stable man, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

content 18+, eventual smut, angst, fake-dating, jealousy, people-pleasing and independent! female reader, ward cameron pinning rafe and sarah against each other, rafe being an asshole

zya's notes thank u for all your lovely comments and reblogs, i love reading them sm! this one is going to be a long one too, so please enjoy <3

dedication also, this chapter is for @rivaiken iykyk ;)

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚

The next couple of days have been radio silence. You don't try to communicate with Rafe and he doesn't try to communicate with you. You just throw yourself into your work, scolding to yourself how this was such a bad idea.

It wasn't meant to be a fuck relationship. It was meant to be fake. Nothing more than public displays of affection and going on to ignore each other behind the scenes. Rafe, himself, said that he wanted to continue doing all the shit he's doing now, just with you as a shielded layer of protection against his father.

Whenever you think back to that moment in the country club bathroom, your stomach recoils. Not because of the sex, but because of how willing you are. You always saw yourself as an independent person. Someone who can handle your own needs. You had to be; you grew up with no parental guidance and raised two younger sisters. You take care of people, you think of others. You handle everything yourself.

But you remember you were deep on your knees, ready to give him anything; when you were splay against the counter, begging him to make you come. God, you feel embarrassed by your own desire.

Maybe it's the control. Maybe it's because you're so used to it in the real world, for once, you want to give the reins to someone else. Especially in the bedroom. And Rafe perfectly takes it.

The only problem is he doesn't give it back.

Asshole.

You're behind the counter, telling Miranda about the new backlog of orders that the system hasn't placed, and a spill in one of the corners, when the bell rings, signaling the entrance of another customer.

"I'll be right with you!" You shout over your shoulders, quickly summarizing the last of the tasks for Miranda before turning to the new customer who walked in.

You plastered on your service smile, ready to take their orders.

Only to realize it was Rafe.

Your smile drops.

"What do you want, Rafe?" You ask pointedly, setting the towel down on the counter as he slides into the seat before you, a casual demeanor to his own presence.

"I need you to play the part again." He says, without so much as an apology or acknowledgement to what happened the other night. "It worked. My dad likes you."

"That's great," your voice is empty of emotions. "Are you coming here to tell me about what a perfect plan you made?"

"No," he shakes his head. "I need you to attend a party with me."

"Business?"

"No, at my house."

Your answer is immediate. "No," you say, shaking your head. "Can't make it."

"You don't even know what it is about."

"Let me guess," you cross your arms, pretending to ponder. "Your dad trusts you enough with me, so if he sees you and me at your party, he would assume I'll be able to control you and you won't push yourself over the edge?"

His reply is silent. That's how you know you're right.

"Guess my Pogue brain caught up fast enough."

You turn around to grab a small glass, pouring out a shot of tequila on the table before tipping your head backwards and taking it all in without a chaser. You need it for whatever this conservation is about to go. "I won't be able to go. I have a double shift."

"I haven't told you the day yet."

"I have double shifts all week," you declare sharply, the bitter taste burning your throat. You squint your eyes for a moment, readjusting, before you find his gaze again.

"I'll pay you."

"God, is this party that important?" You huff out of astonishment at his persistence. "The answer is still no. I don't want your money."

Rafe's brows furrow together. He doesn't understand why you're acting so cold to him. He came in with a good proposition; you wouldn't have to do any of those silly dinners with his father, all you had to do was make an appearance at a party long enough to satiate Ward and then you can do whatever the hell you want. Why are you being so difficult?

"What the fuck is your problem? Why do you have such an attitude?"

You laugh, abruptly, because this is so ironic and humorous to you that the sound rips out. The reckless prince, the man who received a collegiate degree from UNC Chapel Hill doesn't know what a Pogue is thinking.

You don't answer him, deciding to take one of the tasks off of Miranda's hands and clean up the spill yourself. It’s better than being cornered by Rafe. You move to the other side of the counter for the flip-door exit, stepping out from behind the booth.

Heading to the back to grab the supplies, Rafe follows you. Once you step into the backdoor, grabbing the mop, he slips in behind you, blocking the exit.

"You gonna talk or just avoid me all day again?"

You scoff. "That's rich coming from you."

His forehead wrinkles. He truly doesn't know. "What the fuck are you goin' on about?"

Having enough, you throw your arms out in frustration. "I'm talking about the fact that you're the one who fucked me in a bathroom after some problem with your dad," you snap, lashing out from all your pent-up anger. "You refused to talk to me. All you did was used me as your fucking toy."

He staggers back for a moment. Before a cruel smile appears on his lips.

"I remember you were begging for it."

You slap him.

It was so unprecedented, without thought, that it shocked the both of you. The next few seconds were quiet, too quiet, like it was a live wire waiting to spark.

Your voice is calm, almost deadly. "I want you to leave."

His anger comes back tenfold. It's almost a match made in hell; how your rage matches his, how he doesn't back down—but neither do you.

You were going to drive each other insane.

And some sick part of you liked it.

"When have I ever fucking talked to you, Pogue?" He snaps back with dark fury. "We're barely even friends. If I want to fuck you, and you let me, I'm taking it."

"Whenever you had a problem with your dad, you came to me, in this bar," you gesture out to the door. "You talked. I listened. That was the deal."

"We never said that in our relationship."

"Well, I'm putting it in," you declare. Approaching him, stepping a foot closer to close in the distance between the two of you. He doesn't move. He doesn't waver. He watches your step with heavy breathes, dark eyes. In a low breath, you warn, "you want to fuck other people? Fine. I don't care. You do that. They aren't the ones sticking with you, helping you with your dad. They don't have to carry the weight of you being you."

You know the last line was a hard hit, but it was true. You were tired of being seen as another Pogue, someone on the bottom of the litter meant to be used and thrown away. You need to make your stance firm.

"But if you want to fuck me," you conclude, pointing to yourself, "you talk to me, first."

He says nothing. Your anger is filling your adrenaline. It could also be the tequila. Whatever it is, you don't know what provoked you to say the next sentence.

"I wasn't on the pill, goddammit."

For a moment, sobriety reigns over Rafe's features. His eyes widened. "Did you—"

"I bought a Plan B, you asshole." You cut him off, not wanting him to think you're too stupid to think of the consequences. You knew. That's why you told him to pull out. "I wasn't going to carry your babies in me. But, it was expensive. Do you know how much that cost out of my paycheck?"

To him, that may seem like nothing. Nothing more than scraps rolling around his room, in his pockets that he could spare. But for you? That's money that could've gone to paying off your debt, to helping Sailor, to taking care of your siblings.

He remains silent.

You continue.

"You cover for me however you want. You host that party if you want to so fucking badly. But I can't do it. I have work."

You push past Rafe and he lets you, grabbing the mop out of the corner and stepping back into the open atmosphere of your bar. You may hate the noise that comes from the place, but it was better than being suffocated in a room with him.

Rafe quietly follows after you after you return behind the counter.

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but his words were not coming out. His gaze flicks to you, jaw clenched.

"I... I didn't know," his voice is a whisper, almost indistinguishable, that you can't help but let out a bitter chuckle.

"Yeah," you agree. "Because you refused to talk to me."

He says nothing, muted by his own anger, looking down at his hands, before he walks out of the bar. He doesn't bid farewell and you don't expect him to. All you know is he's going to get shit-faced soon and you had nothing to do with it.

—

As you are helping your little sister with her math homework—where all her struggles were about multiplication tables and recognizing whether a fraction is improper—you miss the early days of your life. Where you don't have to think about anything else.

About the bills. About the loans. About how to take care of your siblings.

About a stupid Kook prince you can't get out of your mind.

Your baby sister is seated on the couch, reading some children's book that you made a couple of years ago, stringed together with yarns and colored pencils. Her delicate voice echoes through the joint living room, sounding out the words on her own as she heard you read them million of times before.

Your sister, Amara, pulls you back to reality as she taps your arm, pointing to her problem on the kitchen counter that she's struggling with. She points to the question, reciting her logic of how she got there, and you return with praising her thought process but reminding her of her multiplication tables.

"Ohhhh," her voice drags, giggling at the realization. "I see."

You chuckle softly, laying your chin on her small shoulder and picking up your phone off the counter. While she fixes her mistake, you scroll through social media.

A notification flashes at the top of your screen.

topperthornton: hey

Why the fuck is another Kook sliding into your DMs?

you: hello?

He quickly responds, asking if you are your name.

you: why?

topperthornton: idk if u know but rafe is hosting a party tn

you: so i heard

topperthornton: well, you should come

you: i don't think so, white boy

topperthornton: it's rafe.. he's asking about u

Something in your chest sputters. You pretend it's not your heart.

you: ?? for what

You hope you didn't come off too eager. You don't want to be. You should be pissed, goddammit, but something about knowing Rafe, drunk right now, is thinking about you, makes you weak.

You hate it.

topperthornton: idk what happened between the two of u but he's drunk and crossed out of his mind and he's just been rambling about u

You stare at the text for a hot minute, before another one follows.

topperthornton: u need to come immediately

Fucking hell.

You know you shouldn’t. You just came out of a long, tiresome shift. You have siblings to take care of. You have a math problem that has yet been corrected. But, something in your chest caves. The idea that Rafe needs help, that he's asking for you specifically, and you aren't coming? Makes you uneasy.

You have to go.

There's no other way around it.

Scrambling, you pull your Amara off your lap as you run out the door and race down the block. When you stop in front of Pope's house, you pound your fist against the door, praying someone is home.

It's Pope.

"Hey," he greets. "What's up?"

"I know this is last minute but I need you to watch the kids," you announce breathlessly. His eyes follow you, concerned.

"Everything okay?"

"It's fine," you wave off. "I just have to go somewhere and I don't know how long I'll be. Amara is doing her math homework and Leilani is just reading a book. They're really sweet, I promise."

Pope laughs you off casually. "I know," he says with a smile. "I've babysat them before."

"So," you string the words together slowly, hoping your anxiety isn't coming off too strong. You don't want Pope to feel obligated. "Can you... do it?"

He nods. "Of course. Pogues help each other out."

You smile, pulling him into a quick hug, before handing him the spare key to your house. He heads over to take care of your siblings while you run to your beaten-down car, reversing out the road.

When you arrived at Tannyhill, you truly underestimated how large the party was going to be. People crowded all over, dancing, swinging, just having a reckless and wild time at Rafe Cameron's place. While you know you should be slightly embarrassed by the long pajama pants and braless baggy tee you're wearing right now, feeling overdressed, you step out of the car and head inside.

Topper spots you at the porch.

"Thank God," he mumbles under his breath. "He's been out of it."

You wonder if Topper knows about your arrangement with Rafe.

"Yeah," you nod. "Where is he?"

"I put him in his room with some water but I gotta tell you, he's wasted. Some of the things he says... may not be tasteful."

You scoff. We've already crossed that bridge. "I think I'll be fine."

Without another word, Topper pulls away and you head up the familiar stairs of the estate, descending down the hallway you were here just days ago. It feels, for some reason, like a lifetime since you visited.

You knock on the door, twice, to no answer. Deciding to go for it—praying you won't walk into some lewd act—you step into the room to find it peacefully quiet. Rafe laid out on the mattress, his eyes closed.

You scan the room, trying to see if there's any destruction—any thrown chairs or broken bottles—to find everything in the same condition as you visited prior. The only difference is a pink bag, sitting in his drawer with a bouquet of flowers sticking out.

Your stomach twists in jealousy as you wonder who that could be for. At what fool is receiving such gifts or who gave him such.

When you peek inside, you notice a couple of things: a white envelope, a bundle of red tulips, and like ten-plus stacks of Plan B.

You stiffen your laugh. You realize the fool is you.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach.

The bed creaks and you jump at the sound, seeing Rafe pulling himself up on the mattress into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes to clear his vision, before he finds you, standing in front of him.

He says your name. He thinks he's hallucinating from the drugs.

"Yeah," you nod, cautiously approaching him as his glazed eyes follow your every move. "It's me."

"I thought you said you had a double shift."

He didn't mean for his words to come off so sharp.

"I locked up an hour ago." You explain, brushing past his aggravation.

Rafe nods at your explanation, but his movements are sluggish. Lag. He truly is out of it. You're surprised he went this hard.

His head hangs, staring at his lap, before he asks quietly. "What are you doing here?"

You shrug. You don't know either. You thought he needed help. The idea of him asking for you, but you weren't there for him, kills something inside of you. But, you can't say that. Not after everything you said to him. Not after what this relationship is based on.

You are nothing more than a fake girlfriend.

"Topper said you needed help," you evade any sense of responsibility. Of care. "He texted me."

His jaw clenches, and he looks up at you. "Top has your number?"

"No. He found my Instagram," you answer, wondering if that is jealousy you hear. But, you settle that it can't possibly be the case. "He DM'd me and I came over."

Now it's your turn to be vulnerable.

"I thought you needed help."

Rafe scoffs, bitterly, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Unless you can get this headache out of my heart, I don't think there's much you can do, sweetheart."

You nod, your feet shift to the door, ready to leave. If this is all, if that's all Topper is worried about, Rafe should be fine.

"Come here."

You find yourself listening. Again. Your feet pads against the hardwood floor as you streamline over to him, stopping just in front of his legs hanging off the ledge of the mattress. His head tilts up to meet your gaze; his cloudy blue eyes staring back at you. You bite back a thought.

"I know something that would make me feel better."

You scoff at the suggestive tone. "Let me guess: fuck?"

"Sit on my lap."

You hesitate for a moment. You don't want to be another fuck. But, when his hand lands on the side of your thigh, gentle and earnest, you relent.

Slowly, you settle onto Rafe's lap, both legs on either side of his waist. Your body facing him, and despite him in the lower position, he meets you at eye level.

"Better?" You tilt your head, watching his shoulders unwind every-so-slightly.

"Much." He murmurs, his eyes tracing your face. "God, you're gorgeous."

You flush, knocking a weak palm against his broad shoulder. "Shut up," you say, feeling anything but. You're wearing scraps for clothing, something you planned to go straight to bed—not attend an extravagant party hosted by one of the island's finest.

"I'm fucking serious." He snaps, but his voice doesn't have that hard edge. You blame that on the alcohol too. "I saw all those girls tonight. And yet, here you are, in your fucking pajamas and getting me hard."

You scoff, turning away. "So it does lead back to sex."

"No, it means that they pale in comparison to you," he cups your chin, gently, pulling your gaze back to him. "I'm serious, sweetheart. Believe me."

You're afraid that if you move up against his lap, coming closer, you would feel his erection. Not to mention, if you do, you don't know if you're going to start dry-humping him like you did the other day. But, you remain firm on your stance.

You're not going to let him fuck you unless he talks to you.

The atmosphere thins into a silence, as you take in the low hums of the downstairs party blasting in distant music.

"How was the party?" You ask, probing for a conversation starter. "Was it everything you dreamed of?"

He scoffs. "You're looking at it. I basically drank and smoked until I got sick."

His vices. At least you didn't have to hear about the women he hooked up with, if that's the case. Something deep inside of you hope there isn't.

You nod silently, finding your fingers tracing the outline of his shoulders, your nails scraping against his hot skin and trailing up the crook of his neck. Rafe lets his eyes flutter close for a moment, breathing in a shaky breath.

"Don't do that."

"Why?" You ask, genuinely curious. "I'm just tracing."

"Because anything from you right now feels good," he confesses quietly, and your breath caught in your throat. You hand stills. "Fuck, don't stop."

"You're going to have to give me one signal here, Rafe," you roll your eyes. "You can't say green and red light at the same time."

He pauses for a moment. Contemplating your words.

"Green," he whispers. "Definitely green."

You return to your outline of Rafe's silhouette. He lets you. He says nothing as you follow down to the curve of his arms, skimming against his defined biceps and the muscles instinctively flex under your touch. It made you smile. You pretend you aren't proud of it.

This is done in complete silence.

Then, out of nowhere, Rafe confesses, "I shouldn't have touched you like that."

You freeze. You knew immediately what he was referring to.

"I—I was out of it. I took it out on you."

He still doesn't get it.

You abandon your artwork and use both hands to cup the underside of his jaw, forcing him to tilt his gaze and look up at you. With a sigh, you say, "that wasn't the problem." Your eyes study his face, "it was the fact that you didn't talk to me or explain to me what happened."

His gaze is broken; so incredibly so. The whites of his irises are a faint shade of red, bringing out the deep set of his blue eyes.

"I need to know these things, Rafe." You continue gently. "It's not about me being nosy, or a bitch, or anything. If I'm getting into something with you, I need to know the full picture so I can help you." You swallow your voice as you mumble out the next one. "So you can help me."

You hope he doesn't know the strain in your tone, how hard it was to say those words. You hope he doesn't press on it.

"Okay." Rafe nods, dipping his chin into your palms. "I get it."

"Easier said than done, darling."

Rafe knows it is. He's been struggling to string words together before you came into his life, much less with you in it. But, he was willing to try.

He begins at the dinner. With a stumbled start, he explains how Ward doesn't think he was good enough for you.

You stop him to ask questions. "He said that?"

"No," Rafe shakes his head. "But it's the look on his face. It's—the way he acted. You should've seen how he looked at me when he complimented you, like I'll never compare."

You frown at those words; you didn't even notice.

When he satisfied your questions, Rafe continued on with his story. Rambling further. Each word spilling out easier than the last. He assumed it's because of the alcohol, or the drugs, or perhaps it was neither altogether and it was just you. All in all, he knew.

It was easiest to talk to you.

It reminded him of the bar. He put himself in that setting. His words tumbles out of him with the impression that you won't share it with anyone else. The idea that you were just you, a bartender, who probably had to deal with this shit a thousand-times-over with other talkative customers. That it was you, who he is confessing a vulnerable part to, without the retaliation of judgment.

Rafe breakdowns the comments Ward made. The little conversation they shared after dinner, when you were helping with the caterers. Your clothes. It all became too much to him; like he was the problem. That nothing he did was good enough. His mind was spiraling by that time and having nothing else to pour it into—the drinks, the drugs, the partying—all he had was you.

And he used that to his advantage.

You listen intently, nodding along and following his words without further interruption. Only on things you truly need to clarify. When he finished, even with his incoherent noises and words, something in his chest lightens. It feels more at peace.

You stare at him for a few moments, digesting the information. A protectiveness forms in the pit against your stomach because fuck Ward, you decided. Sure, there may have been admiration from your end about his ability to become a Kook but that means shit now. You hate how he treats Rafe. You hate how you didn't notice.

"God, your dad is a dick."

Rafe doesn't agree like you expect him to. His gaze hardens, like he can't stand you insulting him. You realized, in that moment, you crossed a line. That he may harbor all these hurt and anger and resentment, at the end of the day, it's still his father.

"Sorry," you mumble softly. "I didn't mean it like—"

"I know what you mean."

That came out with an edge.

You swallow, deciding that you should leave. Maybe you being here isn't the right decision. Your legs are starting to cramp from their overstretched position and the inside of your thighs burn from the overuse. You peel your hands off his shoulders and slowly will yourself off of Rafe's lap.

"I should go," you declare, glancing at the exit.

Something in his chest tightens. He wasn't mad. He just wasn't used to regulating his emotions, especially about his father. All he knows is that he doesn't want you to leave.

"Wait," Rafe declares as you pause in front of his bedroom door. He stammers for an excuse. "I never made you come."

Your eyes slightly widen from the suggestion. "It's fine," you say, even though, in that moment, a small part of you hated him for that. "I... I finished myself off when I got home."

The image of you, in your bed, alone, touching yourself to relieve your aches, does something to him. Both in guilt and in arousal.

"No," he raises from his bed, approaching you. Now, with him standing on his own two feet, he towers over you—dominating and intimidating. "It's only fair. I should give back."

"Rafe," you place a hand on his chest, laughing awkwardly, because you don't know how you feel about him pleasuring you. "It's fine. It's not a tit-for-tat thing. You don't owe me anything."

He feels frustrated again. That's not what he meant.

"Fine." He snaps. "You want my words? I want to make you come. I want you to feel as good as I did that day."

You stare at him, the air stolen from your lungs, not knowing what to say. Then, suddenly, an idea occurs to you and a sly smile rises to your lips.

"You want to help me come?" You ask sweetly, watching as he nods his head like an obedient dog. "Okay."

Your hands travel down to the hem of his pants, to his belt, and unbuckle them. Rafe's face conveys surprise, that you're so eager to accept, and when you pull out the leather strap, you stop. Just for a moment, you glance back, asking in confirmation. "My pleasure, right?"

He doesn't know what you're trying to do, but he nods anyway.

"Turn around."

Rafe does what you say. You take both of his wrists into one of your hands—a struggle that Rafe had to assist with—and pins them behind his back. Using the belt, you tie them together.

"Sweetheart..." His voice is low, unsure of how you're able to proceed, but the arousal travels through his body at the uncertainty.

"Trust me." You whisper, buckling them into a firm lock. When you walk back around to face Rafe, your panties dampen at the sight before you: him, standing tall, with his arms pinned behind him, almost helpless. "Sit."

Rafe takes the seat on the desk chair you pulled out, his bounded arms touching the back of the seat as his focus is pinned on you, standing before his bed.

You let out a shaky breath, excitement bubbling in your stomach at the idea of what's about to happen, before your fingers hook to the band of your pants, slowly pulling them down to your ankles. He watches every little move; like a strip tease catered specifically for him. Something he can see. Something he can't touch.

Rafe can feel his erection hardens in his jeans.

"What are you doing?" Rafe's voice is rough and once you step out of your pants, revealing the white panties underneath, he groans at the sight.

"I'm going to make myself feel good," you declare evenly, trying to calm your racing heart, "and you're going to watch."

His Adam's apple bobs. "How do I help?"

"I look at you as I do."

A complaint lodged in his throat but you caught it before he proceeded. "My pleasure, right?" You remind him, to which he, with great reluctance, nods.

You leave your shirt on, deciding it would be unnecessary to take off, and settle down on his bed. Your back pressed against the mattress, you position yourself comfortably in a way that allows Rafe to watch.

And he's watching.

"Are you going to use your fingers?" Rafe asks, deciding that he needs to talk to keep him sane.

"Mhm," you answer, spreading your legs. Arousal licks up your stomach as you feel the cool air brushes the inside of your thighs, raising goosebumps against your skin. You feel the urge to laugh to dispel some discomfort in your body, at how intense Rafe is studying you, but you choose not to. "I might only use two. It'll be tight."

Fuck, Rafe thought.

With a tentative hand, you brush your fingers against your panties, feeling your wetness forming a spot. The light touches ignites heat in your core and your eyes flutter close for a second.

"Look at me." Rafe commands, trying to regain some control. It doesn't work, but you listen anyway.

You watch him as you continue to stroke yourself, pressing against your clothed pussy, not quite entering, as a light coat of your slick covers your fingers. You tip your head back with a small moan.

"Sweetheart," he groans, "stop torturing yourself."

When he truly means to stop torturing him.

You pull your hand back and stuff your fingers into your mouth to cover with saliva, tasting the faintness of your arousal, before returning back to your pussy. Pushing the drenched fabric to the side, a forefinger slips inside easily.

A whimper escapes you, your back arching slightly from the intrusion of your touch. Rafe's breath hitches in his throat as he watches you steadily pump yourself, in-and-out with one digit. You focus on your own pleasure, how good it feels, with the heightened sensitivity of Rafe's attention all on you.

And he's fucking hard.

Rafe watches as you spread your wet folds, slipping in another finger to your tight cunt. It kills him that he can't do anything about it.

"I bet my fingers would fill you more," he offers seductively, trying to remind you of his existence. That he can do it too. You laugh softly, not taking the bait. "What are you thinking about?"

"How good this feels," you whisper, hearing the sound of your wetness squelching in the air. You mewl. "You."

Rafe grunts at the confession. You try to keep your eyes set on him, to remember what you're doing, who you're doing it with, but the build-up is causing you to lose control and makes you close your eyes.

"Eyes." He demands, his voice sharper than before. You open them with great resistance, each second longer is a struggle to keep them focused on him.

"Oh, god," you moan, quickening your pace as you connect your gaze with Rafe. The way he looking at you right now. It reminds you of the night at Topper's house, the time in the country club's bathroom. "Yes, yes, fuck."

He can't stand this. He's straining against his jeans, his cock painfully hard without any relief, while his wrists are bound and reddened by how tight you locked him in. How he's pushing against the leather, trying to break free.

You close your eyes again in pleasure. Your orgasm is getting close.

Rafe swallows hard. "You feelin' good, sweetheart?"

You nod eagerly, flicking your gaze back to him. "You enjoying the view?"

He clenches his jaw, not responding, but you can tell. The impressive outline of his bulge against his pants, how hungry his eyes are. How much he wants you.

It lights something carnal within you. You start to pump harder and faster inside your pussy, your moan growing louder and without inhibition; Rafe's very own porn show in front of him.

He has enough.

"I need to touch you." Rafe declares desperately, rising from his chair, his eyes never straying from the perfect image of you, on his bed, fucking yourself, writhing in ecstasy. "Come on, sweetheart, I can—fuck—I can make you feel so much better."

He's bargaining, goddammit.

A small laugh leaves you, mixed in with the sound of your own pleasure, and you don't acknowledge his comment. His pleads. He steps forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

Rafe growls out your name.

You glance up at him through a heavy-lidded gaze. "Hmm?" You say innocently, pulling your hand out of your pussy. His eyes glance down at your slickness glistening off your fingers, his chest tightening.

"Say yes." He demands weakly, his voice rough and filled with so much restraint, like he's seconds away from losing it. "Tell me I can touch you."

You pull yourself to your knees, bending before him, your smile full of satisfaction. "You want me that badly, baby?"

He doesn't even bother denying it anymore. "Yes."

"My pleasure, right, baby?"

"Fuck, yes," he groans. "Please."

You grin, bringing your wet fingers to his mouth and pressing it against his full lips. He takes you in, sucking your arousal clean from your hand, his eyes still on yours, and you, finally, finally nod.

"You can touch me."

Rafe breaks his belt buckle in one swift motion, surprising you, before his hands immediately cover your body, grabbing at any flesh he can find. His mouth claims yours, pulling you into a hungry kiss and pushing you back against the mattress as his weight pins you down.

"You can't get enough of me." You tease, moaning at how good he tastes, how you can taste yourself on him, and your fingers find his hair. When he breaks, his hard eyes land on your face.

"You don't know how fucking badly I want to punish you right now," he confesses lowly, his hand lowering to the space between your legs. "For torturing me like that."

"It doesn't feel good, does it?"

Rafe scoffs, capturing your cheeks in one large hand, squeezing them together. He runs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, mumbling, "this fucking mouth."

You provoke further. "You love it."

He doesn't answer you, silencing himself with a bruising kiss against your lips and sucking all the air out of your lungs. When his hand lands on your pussy, his fingers begin to run tight circles around your clit, causing you to arch into him.

"Oh, god," you moan into his mouth as he swallows the sound. Breaking from the kiss to glance down, he watches at how responsive your body is, how you're writhing under his touch, and smirks.

"Feels good?"

"So good," you whisper needily, "please keep doing that."

Rafe descends down your body, kissing a trail from the navel of your stomach to your wet cunt, aching and waiting just for him. "I'm going to make you come on my fingers, tongue, and face. Think you can do that for me, sweetheart?"

He doesn't give you time to answer, covering his mouth over your swollen nub and sucks.

"Oh, fuck," your hips involuntarily bucks against his face. He grins against your pussy, in satisfaction, at how good he's making you feel. At how good you taste. To be denied of this, for the past hour, was torture. He wants to pleasure and punish you, all in one. "Don't stop, don't stop."

Your legs wrap around his head in a lock as he ascends you towards your peak, slipping two thick fingers into your pussy. The size makes your walls clench around them. Rafe groans, the vibration against your clit pushing you further into your climax.

"Please don't stop, please." You moan in desperation, afraid of him pulling out again, tipping your head back against his pillows, your fingers gripping his hair harder. Rafe twists his fingers, entering at a new angle, allowing the cool sensation of his ring against your hot cunt and amplifies your sensitivity.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby."

Rafe quickens his pace, his fingers thrusting in with precision and hitting all the right spots. In addition, he slurps harder, tonguing your clit in a way that causes stars to blanket your vision. Writhing in pleasure, you moan and whimper, racing towards your orgasm.

"Come for me," he commands, feeling your walls twitching towards a desperate end, “let me hear my girl."

You release with a heavy cry, coming on his face and slumping back against the bed from pure exhaustion. Combined with the day you had, the double shifts you've been pulling, and the incredible orgasm you're given, all you want to do is sleep.

"Get up," Rafe declares, but you don't move. "Come on, sweetheart."

"Give me five minutes," you yawn, holding out five fingers while your eyes flutter. "I just need to..."

You don't finish your sentence, closing your eyes for a brief moment. That's what you tell yourself, and the last thing you remember before you fall completely in your slumber.

— read part five —

taglists: @quicksilversg1rl / @uraesthete / @maybankslover / @trshngyn / @irides-solstice / @kur0obaby / @groovycass / @emmalandry / @outlawedmando / @ditzyzombiesblog / @mattyskies / @sunshinepanic / @too-deviant / @rafesgiirl / @ficluvr / @bunniii-98 / @vvvhack / @babygoddam / @cami-is-reading / @peachesmilk / @whore4fictionalman / @artemiswinnick / @janediazwindsor / @pandora-rosier1 / @solanathascientst / @itshellie / @grace-sully / @loveyouok / @tayrcse / @mysteris-things / @ella131989 / @starrkissezz / @sanriobuny / @alyssax25 / @chopshopcheesecake / @fentyxmalik / @fleets-world / @supernaturalwriter / @taylorsmissamericanna / @hehelollmao / @lac0nically / @elysiasshit / @kravitzwhore / @tommysaxes / @ma-yangg / @carolinaxvz / @bandsbooks / @sourjoonie / @rafemotherfuckingcameron

865 notes · View notes

chocopokkie · 15 days

Text

Bound by Shadows

Summary: You attempt to break up with Alastor but it doesn't go so well.

TW: Non-con, yandere-ish Alastor, forced relationship, smut (let me know if I missed any!)

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

"I'm really sorry, Al," you murmur softly, your gaze avoiding his once-adoring eyes, now fixed with a grin that cuts deeper than any blade. "I just don't think we should be together anymore..."

"We can still be friends!" you hastily add, your voice betraying the tremor of uncertainty, "I just don't think—"

But before you can finish, a dark laugh cuts through the air like a chilling gust of wind.

"Haha!" Alastor's laughter drips with disdain as he interrupts, his tone laced with judgment. "My dear, I truly don't think you know what you're talking about. You think after everything I've done for you, you can just leave me, little doe? I believe I need to give you a reminder of who you belong to," he growls, his words like a predator's low warning growl.

Suddenly, the room shifts and morphs around you, the comforting walls of your room replaced by the dark, dense canopy of a forest. Panic surges through you, but before you can even grasp the gravity of the situation, you're violently shoved to the forest floor. The earthy scent fills your senses as black tendrils snake around your limbs, rendering escape impossible.

"Alastor, please, what are you doing?" you plead, your voice shaking with a mixture of fear and confusion. You attempt to struggle against the oppressive grip of the tendrils, but they hold you firmly in place, like iron chains. "Please, you're really scaring me!" you beg, desperation seeping into your words as you realize the gravity of the situation.

"Oh, as you should be, dear~," Alastor purrs sinisterly, his voice dripping with malevolence. "Because I'm going to make sure this is a lesson you never forget." With a snap of his fingers, the tendrils forcefully flip you over, leaving you on your knees with your face pressed against the cold, hard forest floor. Dread washes over you as you realize what's about to happen.

"N-No... Please..." you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, desperation tainting every syllable. "Okay, I'm sorry! Please, I'll never do anything like this again, I swear! I love you! Just please stop..." You plead, reaching out to him in a futile attempt to appeal to his humanity, to make him see reason. But all you receive in response is a dark chuckle that sends chills down your spine.

"Oh, I know, baby~," Alastor responds, his tone laced with a sickening mixture of affection and possessiveness. "But if you aren't punished, you might get that stupid idea of trying to leave me in that pretty little head of yours. And we can't have that again, now can we?"

Alastor moves quickly, his movements fluid yet unsettlingly precise. With a swift motion, he shoves your dress over your hips, the fabric bunching around your waist. You gasp in shock and protest, but before you can utter a word, his clawed finger slashes through your panties, cutting them away with a cruel efficiency.

His dark chuckle cuts through the air like a blade through silence. "Bad girls don't get any foreplay," he growls, his voice dripping with malice as he works at his pants, freeing his cock. With grace, he positions himself at your unprepared entrance.

"I'm sorry, Alastor! Please, just stop," you plead, desperation lacing your voice as tears stream down your face. You know there's nothing you can do to halt his actions, trapped and powerless against him.

Your scream rips through the air like a haunting melody as Alastor mercilessly shoves his entire length inside of you, setting a brutal pace that leaves you gasping for breath. Each thrust is accompanied by a symphony of pain and desperation, your pleas falling on deaf ears as he revels in your suffering. Alastor savors the sound of your cries, finding perverse pleasure in the symphony of agony echoing through the forest.

One of his hands snakes around to rub your clit, sending a jolt of unexpected pleasure coursing through your body. Your muscles tense and spasm in response to the new sensation, but the relentless grip of the tendrils keeps you firmly anchored to the forest floor, rendering you utterly helpless against Alastor's desires. He continues his assault, relishing in the control he exerts over your body and mind.

As the realization sinks in, a cold dread settles in the pit of your stomach. You understand now that there's no escape from his grasp, no reprieve from his twisted desires. In that moment, it becomes painfully clear: you belong to him, body and soul, for eternity. Alastor has ensured that you'll never forget your place, sealing your fate with every merciless thrust and cruel manipulation. You are his forever, and he delights in reminding you of that fact.

You can never escape.

He leans in close, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers with a cruel intimacy, "Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?" With renewed vigor, he increases the speed and pressure on your clit, driving you to the brink of ecstasy even as tears streak down your face, overwhelmed by the conflicting sensations coursing through your body.

As you came around Alastor's cock, he resumes his brutal pace. His claws dig into your hips, leaving marks of possession as he relentlessly chases his own release. With a guttural groan, you feel him twitch inside you, his hot seed spilling deep within, painting your walls white with his essence.

"Now then, have you learned your lesson, love?" Alastor's voice cuts through the haze of pain and confusion, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. Gradually, you feel the tendrils loosen their grip around you, allowing you to collapse onto the forest floor, your body trembling with exhaustion and sobs wracking your frame.

"Y-yes," you manage to whisper weakly, your voice barely audible amidst the turmoil of emotions raging within you.

"Lovely~. Now get yourself cleaned up! We have reservations tonight!" His words, almost sickeningly cheerful, echo in your ears as he strides away, leaving you alone in the cold darkness of the forest. As you lay there, broken and defeated, you can't help but reconsider everything—your choices, your worth, and the twisted dynamic that binds you to him in ways you never imagined possible.

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #fanfic #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin smut #hazbin x reader #tw noncon #yandere #yandere alastor #x reader #fem reader #reader insert

594 notes · View notes

j-jinxee · 3 months

Note

Ooo can you write about about how Alastor would use restraints, he’d defo get turned on by how helpless reader would look when they’ve got a chain wrapped around them, with his need for control.

PRISONER ☆

TYPE - Alastor x Reader

WARNINGS - restraints/being tied up, semi public sorta?, ownership, swearing, oral receiving, humiliation.

authors note - tysm for requesting!! especially for Alastor hehehe, hope u like ittt >:)

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

That night came back to you every time you got pulled down by that fuckers chain. The most regrettable night of your life, you were so far gone you really thought he'd help you. Making any deal while you were drunk was a bad idea, but making a deal with the radio demon?? Even worse. He's made you do sickening things for him in the past, all things you never would've done if your soul wasn't on the line; but nothing that made your stomach turn quite like this one.

You made the mistake of confronting him right before he went on the air. That pissed him off enough, and thought you needed a reminder of who you belonged to. Hence why you're tied up in his radio tower, chain around your neck, and screaming his name for all of Hell to hear.

Alastor made you crawl up to his radio tower, him holding the chain, then tied you up with dark sorcery, and clicked "start broadcast".

"Hello my dear viewers! Hope you're having a grand evening. Today will be a little different to my usual style of broadcast, but I trust you'll enjoy it nonetheless" His voice turned scratchy and demonic towards the end, making you nervous for what was to come.

The only luminance in the tower was the faint glow of the red sky, and the shine of Alastor's eyes. You had no idea how many people were listening right now, or what was even going to happen, you just hoped no one could tell it was you.

You swore you could smell his arousal. It was rare, but you could tell he liked seeing you chained up. He never expressed any romantic feelings towards you, only savage, animalistic needs to over-power you. You let him have his way, since there was nothing you could do about it, but this? This was a little past your limit.

Your hands were behind your back, legs bent, and whole body hoisted up. You had no clue what happened to your clothes, they vanished off your body when the ropse appeard around you. Your neck was angled slightly up from the floor, enough to see a little out the window, but not enough to hurt. That's when you felt him.

You gasped abruptly as you felt his hot tongue on your clit, "Ah!" It took you by surprise - to say the least. You obviously wanted to hold back your moans in order to keep some dignity... but, holy fuck he was good.

It was like being chained up increased the pleasure, you swore it'd never felt this good before. His tongue made you squirm, but squirming hurt, especially when you held back. You thought you may aswell give him what he wants instead of agitating him even more.

"Mmm- Fuck! Alastor please"

"Please what my dear?"

You didn't even know what you were asking for, you wanted to say please stop, but you knew you couldn't, it felt too good.

"Pl- Ah! Please don't stop!"

Yeah real good fucken choice, beg him to keep going and see where that'll get ya.

The next thing you felt was his tongue diving deep into your core, fuck. You knew he'd be skilled, but this was on a completely different level.

"Ohhh, fuck! I'm- I'm gonna cum, ah!"

Your legs attempted to collide, obviously being held back by the rope. As Alastor felt your thighs start to shake, he only increased his pace, sending you over the edge. The coil in your stomach finally snapped, sending shivers throughout your whole body as you screamed Alastor's name for all of Hell to hear. Even if they weren't listening to the broadcast, they might’ve still heard you.

Your vision was blurry, your face was hot, and currents of pleasure still shot through your core like electricity. Alastor got up and made his way to the control panel, "I hope this is to your liking dear listeners! Because we're just getting started"

...you've gotta be fucking kidding.

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

Rlly rlly hoping u like thisss 🤞🏻 I think it's aight, I just love writing for Alastor tbh hehe. Cheers x

786 notes · View notes

ang311ic · 11 days

Text

Post argument sex with Gaz

(Unedited, just wanted to write something after so long of having no ideas)

This man is stubborn, my baby doesn’t have many flaws (ignoring that he’s a war criminal) but he refuses admit he’s wrong. He also refuses to apologise because why would he apologise if he’s right? That’s a little harsh, he does end up apologising just with his dick instead.

The pair of you get in a stupid fight, something that was easily preventable but still ended up happening.

You’re pissed off with him, giving him the silent treatment and not even bothering to sleep in the same bed as him that night. You take your pillow and spend that night on the couch ignoring his protests.

You wake up to the feeling of someone’s lips against your neck and unless you have an insane stalker you weren’t aware of, it’s Kyle.

“What are you doing?” You mumbled groggily, not bothering to push him away in your sleep addled state. You don’t get a response instead you feel his calloused hand move down your stomach and slip under the band of your sweatpants. “Kyle-“

“Shhh. Let me make things better.” He murmurs and you’re unsure whether this is turning you on or making you want to slap him in the face. Your thought process was cut short when his fingers reached the soft cotton if your underwear, running them across your slit and making you gasp. You hated how good he made you feel but if there was one thing he was good at it was making you feel good.

“You like that?” He almost growled his face moving to rest against the crook of your neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of you. His thumb moves to brush against your clit making your hips involuntary buck into his touch. “Getting so mad over nothing,” His tone so incredibly condensing, you can practically hear the smirk on his face. “Just need a good fuck to sort you out.”

“You’re an asshole.” You spit out though you don’t stop him when he pulls both of your pijamas off and slips your underwear to the side. His half-hard cock rubs against your pussy, collecting the slick over his head. “You don’t listen, you just brush me off, you’re never even here.” You rant though your words aren’t very effective, interrupted by harsh breaths of pleasure and stifled moans.

“I know, I know lovey.” He coos, almost sounding understanding and he was but you could discuss that later. He finally pushed his length inside you, groaning at the sensation of your tight velvety walls around him. His fingers find his way into your mouth, his index and middle slipping between your plump lips only allowing the sounds of your whines and moans to leave.

He fucks into you slowly, taking in every sensation. The feeling of your tongue against his fingers, the way you clench around him when he hits a spot that makes pleasure build in the pit of your stomach.

You had to remind yourself that you were mad but that was getting increasingly difficult with how he was making you feel. Your head fell back against his shoulder, a string of drool slipping down your chin and your chest rising and falling rapidly as your hips grinder against him to meet his thrusts. A mess. He’d turned you into a mess.

“You want to cum for me?” He asks like it was even a question to begin with. He removed his fingers from your mouth and rubbed his saliva drenched fingers against your clit once again, making you whine sharply in pleasure. “You want to feel good for me?”

“Y-yes,” you breathed out, trying to get your words out as quick as possible. “Please, please. I want it want it so bad.” You babbled, begging as of your life depended on it. The coil inside you felt like it was about to burst. You had forgot about the argument, had forgotten about your annoyance, you just wanted him, you wanted him to make you cum. With one more snap of his hips and circle of his index fingers, you break. You gush over his dick, unable to stop yourself from moaning his name loudly even if it was probably making him significantly more smug.

His hands tighten his hold one you. One arm wrapped around his waste and his other holding your jaw to keep you pressed up close against him. He helps you ride out your orgasm while also chasing his, pumping rapidly in and out of your fluttering cunt. “So good.” He praises, the words catching in his throat as his own pleasure builds. Even when the pair of you are arguing he always manages to let you cum first. “So, so fucking good for me.” He grunts as his load spills out into you, filling you up with his hot cum.

That night you feel asleep on the sofa with him still inside of you, snuggled close to each other. That morning Gaz wasn’t there, he was making coffee and when he arrived back to the living room he sat in the exact same place and discussed said argument. Communication!

#cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty: modern warfare ii #cod mwii #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz nation #gaz x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick smut

488 notes · View notes

rusmii · 9 days

Text

Out in California, I've been forward stroking, swim.

— how the bsd men FUCK you. ft. chuuya, dazai, tecchou, and ango x FEM!reader

⟢ reblogs greatly appreciated mwuah 🤍

c/ws::: ooc as fuck cause its smut. lots of cumming and theres sub ango too as well as impact play/slapping in angos part. MDNI

a/ns::: omg gasp runi finally dropped ?!?!?! neways song is based off swim by chase atlantic <3

✦ CHUUYA fucks you like there's no tomorrow. his version of fuck is love, he is a verse-service top and won't hesitate to put your needs above his. "so good f'me baby," he whispers little praises above you as he rams his thick cock into your cunt. chuuya, at the start, tries to be as gentle and careful as he could, but most times he loses himself to the pleasure and let's loose a little bit of his strength. his grip his bruising and will hurt pretty bad later, but his dick outweighs the pain—"nah, don't," he grunts in annoyance the moment you cover your face, hips still thrusting in and out as he prys your arms away from your face and pins them above your head using one hand. chuuya is the type of lover to make sure that you come first or together. it's an absolute must, and when chuuya cums, you can feel that shit plug you up with just a few spurts. his cum is thicky, creamy, goey, and a little bit sticky. even with condoms on, his cum is so hot, it feels as if you've been doing it raw.

"fucking—! sweetheart, 'm cummin, you feel so fuckin' g-ghn-good for me— fuck! aggnn... shiit.."

✦ DAZAI fucks you aggressively at first. you were nothing but a one night stand, someone who he could relieve his stress from and move on without complaint. however, this didn't seem to be the case for the mutual sex relationship you both set up. at the start, dazai is a dominant top, not allowing you to see him so vulnerable, and at this point of time, he still has his bandages on. "no darl'.. so sorry, maybe next time?" he would always make false promises for you to top him during the next session, but none of that happened—until the relationship changes for the better. it takes a while, but dazai finally opens up, becomes vulnerable and finally bottoms for you, nervousness in his system as he's stripped of everything, including his bandages—"ah! fuck! w-wait-mhn! tha-that feels sooo goood..!" he whines into the pillow, back arching as you ride his dick like tomorrow.

"gh—! [name]!! i- i feel it—uhnn! im- cu-cuhnn—!!"

✦ TECCHOU fucks you so passionately, you feel like shedding tears out of the pure love you feel. tecchou is a traditional dom-top, always concerned about making sure you're taken care of first. "are you alright? does it hurt?" he asks as he's bulldozing your pussy. tecchous dick is long, with a fat tip and thick base. he doesn't tell you this, but stuffing you full with his cock turns him on so much, he's able to cum within just a few thrusts inside your hole. tecchou isn't a moaner, more like a grunter, but that doesn't mean he isn't enjoying it, nah that man is probably under the pleasure more than you, cumming and stuffing your hole more than you could imagine. tecchou has thought of kids at one point in time, but with him being in the hunting dogs it just wasn't going to work out—so let him fuck his concerns away tonight first, then he can fuck his kids inside you in the future.

"i- i think—ghn! im- cummin' 'm cummin, please lemme cum—you're so good for - gh - me—hnn!"

✦ ANGO fucks you like a bottom bitch, he's the bottom getting bitched. he absolutely loves it when you ride his shit like you're rocking his world; everything is nothing but muddled into one the moment he feels your pussy wrapping itself around his dick. ango is a loud bitch, moaning and whining every time he feels a trinkle of pleasure—crying tears of pleasure whenever you slap him. ango himself didn't know how much into slapping he was— he fucking loves it when you slap his ass, thighs, chest, and even face—" 'm sorrryyy!! i won't move again! please - ride me—mhn!" he begs after you slapped his face for thrusting up without your permission. he cums fast and easily, being so turned on by you, he just can't help it! ango writhes in overstimulation every damn time, but he doesn't make an effort to move, loving every single round you pull out of him until you're done.

“i - [name] - ghnn—! im - sogoodsogood—!”

im gonna remake my taglist bleh

here’s a poll for what imma work on next

RUSMII 2024 . dont do the basic copyright shit. ty.

#₇₇₇༝ scriptures #hi I got a juicy fic coming out soon trust #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #tecchou x reader #ango x reader #chuuya smut #dazai smut #tecchou smut #ango smut #bsd x reader #bsd smut

634 notes · View notes

c-nstantine · 13 days

Note

Random thought that I want to share. Okay here goes. While Bruce loves seeing Batmom in lingerie and lace he absolutely loves seeing her in her comfortable underwear, no bra oversized T-shirt and natural hair in a pineapple. It just turns him on even more

Warnings: There's not smut but it's a little steamy

Word Count: 0.7k

"Bruce, are you listening to me?" The answer was no. He was not listening. He couldn't even pretend to be listening. How could he when his wife sat in the middle of their bed in nothing but a pair of underwear and one of his old Wayne Tech t-shirts? This in combination with her tight coils being put up into a pile on top of her head was a dangerous combination for Bruce.

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" He asked, sitting at the foot of the bed. He felt Y/N crawl behind him before wrapping her arms around his neck.

"No," She said, placing a kiss on his stubbled cheek. He smiled softly and leaned into her touch. Something about her relaxed him and he was forever grateful for her.

"Okay, I wasn't. What's happened today?" He asked with sincerity in his tone. She hummed in approval of her husband paying attention to her. She started explaining to him how she checked on the various charities they ran before spending the rest of the day with Thomas, Martha, and Alfred.

"Your kids gave me a run for your money. I thought the twins teasing phase was bad, but now, I'm constantly running behind them," She admitted. It was true, the twins were little terrors except with Damian. For some reason, he was the only one that could keep them in line.

"I'm sorry. They'll grow out of it. We can always ask one of the boys to come in town for a week to help out," Bruce offered, tilting his head slightly so that he could look his wife in her face. Every day he was reminded how lucky he was to have her.

"I know but I don't want them to feel like they have to help. Bruce?" Y/N noticed her husband had a dreamy look in his eye. It was rare and reserved just for moments with them. His eyes always softened looking at her, it was like he had forgotten how cruel the world had been to him.

"Hmm?" He hummed, his steel blue eyes never once drifted from her face.

"Nope, I know that look. Uh-uh, you aren't putting another one of your big-headed babies in me," She spoke with certainty as she released her husband from her grasp. She slid back towards the headboard of their bed and crossed her arms. To Bruce, this only highlighted the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. Good to know, he thought to himself.

"First of all, why are they always my kids? And what look?" He knew exactly what she was referring to. He began to make his way to her until he could lay with his head on her thighs. She ran a hand through his damp hair, raking her nails against his scalp.

"That look is how we ended up with Martha and Alfred in the first place." She reminded him.

"No, that was my Gotham University shirt, the knee-high socks, and the goddess braids," Of course, Bruce remembered her exact outfit when their twins were conceived. What kind of husband would he be if he didn't?

"Bruce!" She jokingly hit his shoulder. Memories flooded back from that night so many years ago. If she remembered correctly, the two of them had discovered a new position.

"What? I'm being honest. Now let me take care of my wife, please," He rolled over to his stomach and placed himself between her legs before pressing a small kiss to the center of her underwear.

"Bruce?" She shifted her hips lower to put her pussy directly in front of him. He nipped at her panties and pulled them down her thighs, nearly throwing them out of the room. He grinned as she spread her legs a bit more.

"I'll pull out," Lie. He'd simply make it so she'd be begging for him to finish inside of her. The only thing that was more exciting to him than her in his clothing was the thought of her being pregnant with his child.

Taglist: @flyestvenustrap@megamindsecretlair@blxckdesire@prettyvintageafternoon@lilbanas@certifiedloverwoman@melissa-ashe @hoyoooo

#x black!reader #black!reader #x black reader #black reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x black!reader #bruce wayne x reader #black!batmom #black batmom #x black batmom #bruce x black!batmom #bruce x black!reader #bruce x black reader #bruce x black batmom #bruce wayne smut

451 notes · View notes

hysteria-things · 19 days

Text

ON THIN ICE

based off of this & this

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: nate gets into a fight during a hockey game, but has an idea to make him feel better.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY, swearing, fighting, begging kink, p in v, public, spanking, choking, dacryphilia, unprotected sex (don’t be silly!), cream pie, overstimulation, dumbification, ROUGHH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 928

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: day TWO of nate week!

THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 3K??? I LOVE YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING OMG❤️❤️

whistles blow from left to right from the referees, hockey players from both teams trying to pull away the two boys fighting in the middle of the rink. one of the two boys is your boyfriend, nate.

during the game, you have noticed nate getting a bit disgruntled with a player on the opposing team. suddenly, they stopped in the middle of the rink to talk. in the blink of an eye, nate pounced on him. something must have ticked him off. bad.

murmurs are heard from around the bleachers, the group of people finally pulling the two boys apart. sadly, nate got the red card.

he throws his stick and helmet in a fit of rage as he sits on the bench. he hunches over, taking off his skates and throwing those somewhere too. the game continues after that brief mishap, but your eyes are still set on nate.

he’s angry, face is red while talking to himself. you watch as he gets up to go outside, and you soon follow him. “nate!” you call out, watching as the boy marches toward his car.

hands in fists, he keeps walking until you finally catch up to him. “nate.” you repeat, grabbing his wrists and turning him around.

the way his jaw clenches looks like it’s about to fall off its hinges. his chest still heaves from anger, his eyes looking into yours. “what happened?” you ask calmly.

“nothing,” he responds with bitterness.

you don’t believe that for shit. “what did he say to you?”

“nothing,” he says with a bit more attitude, but then he exhales because it’s you he’s talking to.

since nobody likes to see their boyfriend mad, you cross your arms and sigh. “what can i do to help?”

his eyebrows raise slightly, a smirk appearing on his face. he nudges his head to the hood of his car. “shut up and bend over.”

you gasp when your upper body slams onto the car, hands getting pinned behind your back. nate thought you were taking too long with his command, so he took matters into his own hands.

heart pounding, he takes off your pants, licking his lips and biting them at the view. you wince, the breeze of the night hitting your bare pussy so suddenly.

taking his thumbs, he spreads your folds to admire it. smiling like a fool knowing he can’t have nor feel it. you belong to nate, and he’s going to make sure everybody fucking knows that.

“nate—” you pout, a hand making contact on your ass cutting your words off. you let out a quiet sob. “s-somebody can see.”

“that’s the fucking point. i want people to see,” he says through gritted teeth, smacking your ass once more. with his unoccupied hand, he unties his uniform shorts and slides them down. his tip just about touches your clit, causing you to buck your hips back. “ah, ah, ah. beg for it.”

“please,” you whisper.

spank.

he didn’t like that.

“please.” you cry out louder. “f-fuck me, please. fuck me like you own me. i want to feel your cock, baby. please… i-i’m all for you.”

he licks his teeth and grins, grabbing onto your throat. “that’s my girl.”

your nails dig into his knuckles when he hammers into you; like he’s taking his anger out. because the stretch was so sudden, pained moans leave your lips. he hums approvingly behind you, watching the way your ass recoils off of his thighs. the slapping noise echoes throughout the dark parking lot.

“nate, fuck!” you yelp, the car rocking along with your body movements. “holy—” you pause, eyes rolling back so hard that you see black. his grip on your neck tightens so he can lift your head to look at your reflection in the window.

your wanton expression only makes him move faster, tears running down your face from the force. he snarls, the guy’s voice bouncing back and forth in his brain.

“is that your girl up there? wonder how much she’ll scream for me if i fucked her, instead.”

you’re moaning nonstop, body twitching and shaking the moment he hits numerous spots inside you. “you want to know what that mother fucker said to me?” he rasps out, pinching your clit that makes you jolt but nod. “he said he wanted to fuck you instead. he can’t do that now, can he? do you know why?”

you moan, dropping your forehead onto the hood while nate fucks you dumb. “oh— oh— oh my god, right there! don’t stop, baby… please.”

clenching, his hand leaves another hit on your ass. “answer me.”

“b-because i’m all yours.” you whimper, clenching around his dick again. “i-i’m cumming! please let me cum!”

“that’s right.” he starts, twitching inside of you as his thrusts get sloppier by the second. “let everybody know whose cock you’re screaming and cumming on.”

sobbing from pleasure, you squeeze your orgasm down his shaft. “i need you to be way louder than that, beautiful. i want him to hear you.”

“nathan! i-it hurts too good.” you cry, tears staining your cheeks.

“going to have you walk back in there with my cum dripping down your thighs. how does that sound?”

you can only nod in response, his hips stopping to fill you up with his cum. if it weren’t for him holding onto you, you would’ve fallen over by now from how weak your legs are.

he pulls out slowly, your eyes fluttering when you feel him ooze out of you. that definitely took the heat off.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2 @sturnsjtop @luverboychris @yapperchris @imaslutforoldermen @madisonlovesyouu @poetatorturadaa @chr1sgirl4life @hiimolivia @jo-777 @sturnskiss

#nate doe #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nathan doe #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #nate doe fanfic #nate doe smut

440 notes · View notes

luveline · 8 months

Note

is there any way we could get badass!reader x spencer? except he’s injured this time? how does she react?

tysm ♡ cw hospital / gunshot wounds. 1.1k

"You have to let me see him."

"It's family only," the nurse says, shrugging sympathetically.

You grit your teeth. "That's what I'm telling you, I am his family. We've been together for four months."

"Sorry. Unless you're blood related or his next of kin, I can't let you."

"Spencer's next of kin is in a sanitarium in Las Vegas. I don't understand why you can't let me see him." You're trying not to shout at her, rage trembling in your aching fingers. "I understand that it's night time, and that he was admitted alone, but he was shot, he's not sick, and I can't make him worse. Please. You have to let me see him."

When begging doesn't work, you get mean. You'd be ashamed to admit you flashed your badge if it weren't for the fact that you have no shame when it comes to Spencer. Face flushed with heat from a good twenty minutes yelling, a different nurse escorts you to Spencer's room.

"I expect my colleagues will be arriving soon," you say. "And I expect they'll be met with less resistance."

The nurse smiles at you, as fake as they come, but you don't deserve a real one. You don't care. Breaking rules and bending policies means nothing to you while Spencer's laying alone in a hospital bed.

His heart monitor beeps steadily. He's sleeping, waxy face crushed sideways into a limp pillow, his stomach a lump under the sheets where he's been wrapped. He was alone when it happened —no one, BAU or otherwise, knows who did it or why. The hospital didn't know who Spencer was until he woke up after surgery and told them himself.

And you'd been sitting at home feeling sorry for yourself (and vaguely irritated) because he didn't answer your text that morning.

It's not hard being vulnerable with Spencer. He's your widely known soft spot, and you're unashamed. But it felt like a mistake, constantly checking to see if he'd answered your text. Good morning, I know we're supposed to see each other tomorrow but do you want to come over and watch movies tonight? Let me know had felt like I'm pathetic and in love with you and my day revolves around when you're free.

None of that matters now. In fact, it's all embarrassingly small.

You creep up beside his bed and reach out tentatively. His hair falls out of his face with the barest of touches. He's had blood wiped poorly from his cheek, orangey streaks lining his jaw. His undereyes are dark like he hasn't eaten for days, his veins spider legs stark against his eyelids.

You put your hand on his cheek, rubbing it lightly. "I'm sorry it took me so long," you say, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

Spencer stirs, a groan rumbling from the centre of his chest.

"I thought that was you," he mumbles, his fingers brushing your elbow.

"When?" you ask.

"You were yelling."

Yeah, well. You need to be disruptive sometimes. "They wouldn't let me in." You're not a big crier, just seeing him like this, knowing he was alone and probably scared, it has tears pricking. "Spencer, I'm so sorry."

"Hey." He clears his throat, your emotion starting him into wakefulness. "Hey, don't get upset. It's okay. It bounced off of me–" You groan and he laughs, though he grabs your elbow quickly after. "Ouch. Don't make me laugh."

"I didn't say anything." You pet his face. He looks pretty even when he's in a bad way. Your chest is a pit.

"It barely touched me. They said my feminine hips saved my life."

"Stop trying to make me laugh," you say pleadingly.

Spencer holds your gaze. "Stop looking so sad and I'll stop."

"Are you hurting?" you ask. You know you sound awful, a scared tone that he's never heard from you before, and you try to tamp it down as a lone tear breaks free, streaking down your cheek. "How's your pain? I can make them give you more–"

"I know you can. I'm fine now you're here."

You lean down to kiss the tip of his pert nose. Careful, you kiss his lips, enthused when he kisses up. "I'll take care of everything," you promise.

The door opens behind you. You give Spencer a last squeeze and find Emily in the entrance with a bag pressed to her chest, her hair windblown, shocked with worry.

"Spencer," she says, rushing forward to hug him.

He's in a hospital bed and still insists on comforting her as he'd done you, arms threaded over her shoulders. "Hey. I'm fine."

"Morgan and Garcia want to be here," she assures him, standing straight. "They're trying to keep the site clean. Spencer, what the hell happened?"

You drag a chair to his bed and sit on his right. You don't take his hand, he doesn't offer it, but the longer his story goes, the closer you find yourself. "I didn't even realise they were following me," he's saying. Emily nods with Hotch on the phone, listening intently, repeating anything Hotch misses.

You know you should be strong. Brave. You should be paying attention to his every word, ready to take the rains and solve the case, serve retribution against whoever it is that thought they could hurt him, but Spencer looks so tired. You can't imagine being anywhere that isn't his side right now. A blood bag fills at his side, a catheter runs under the bed, an IV line feeding pain medication and fluids into him mottled the skin on the inside of his wrist with bruise. Sometimes you have to stay put.

Emily hugs you before she leaves. You hug back.

"If I knew getting hurt would make you accept love from your friends, I would've done it sooner," Spencer says.

"If you ever get hurt like this again, I'll never speak to you," you say, bringing his arm to your lips and pressing a kiss to the crook of his elbow.

"Sorry for scaring you."

You lay your cheek on his arm, looking up at him through your eyelashes. "That's okay. That's fine. Wasn't your fault."

Spencer drops his chin to his chest. "Do I look bad from this angle?"

"No. You look just as nice as you always do." Your throat burns with sincerity. You might cry again.

Spencer nods like he's reading something else from what you've said. It's not that you'd meant to imply a double meaning, but he must see on your face how relieved you are, and how terrified you'd been. He brings his hand to your face, ignoring his cannula, to wipe the dried tears from your lashes. "You look pretty, too," he says. "Just don't cry anymore."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

2K notes · View notes

harrysonlylover · 8 months

Text

Heat*

Summary: Your fiancée plans a trip to Italy after you get uncomfortable from the Summer heat.

Trope: CEO! H

WC:7.2k

Warnings: Jealousy, Possessiveness, mentions of pregnancy and ovulation, soft domrry.

A/n: so seepy besties don’t mind the mistakes.

CEO H Masterlist

Long hot summers are not for you.

Even though you’re unemployed, going out is still a must for you whether it be for hanging out with friends, running errands, or visiting Harry at his office.

Now that the heat is intensifying, you can’t bear making plans or even thinking about stepping out of the house. The high temperature makes sweat build and the humidity ruins your hair and overall mood, Summer was never your favorite season but now that you’re pregnant, you despise it.

Whining about it was unintentional, frankly, everyone was annoyed by the heat. At first, Harry panicked and begged you to stay indoors. His biggest fear was something happening to you when he wasn’t near, let alone now when you’re pregnant.

You did comply and stayed home for most of the days, but there is only so little you can do when you’re alone. You tried Pilates and Yoga for pregnant women with different instructors on YouTube, cooked new recipes that help with pregnancy, and changed the decoration in the living room twice. You even read some of the books Harry bought.

You’re one month into pregnancy and so far, you’ve only experienced morning sickness, fatigue at night, and frequent urination. The whole vomiting ordeal drains the life out of you, not only is it disgusting but it occurs every day.

Harry was over the clouds ever since he found out about the baby, he wanted to arrange a huge party for the celebration but you were against it and insisted on privacy for the first few months.

All it takes is for you to demand something and he would do it with a sealed mouth. He has been acting quite giddy and clingy, and much more obsessed with your body now that you’re pregnant.

He insisted that you gained some sort of glow even though you look dead after you vomit. The whole sickness part is what made him pouty and apologetic. For the first few days, he teared up and refused to go to his office, there wasn’t much you could say because you were feeling quite shitty.

Then it became less frequent but it didn’t stop him from feeling bad, he kept saying ‘Sorry’ over and over again because he knocked you up and caused all this fuss. He wouldn’t listen even when you assured him that it was just a part of the pregnancy.

Flower bouquets decorated the apartment every single day. He is aware that you have a spacious backyard with a garden that houses different types of plants but no. Every morning he sent out a flower delivery and a handwritten card by him, not the florist.

‘Morning my dove, hope you have an amazing day. Thought I’d give the orchids a try today. Eat well and rest for the little peanut. I love you endlessly. XOXO.’

That was one example out of many. He might as well invest in a flower shop.

As for the unbearable heat, even the poor flowers didn’t handle it. It reached up to 35 degrees every day and you couldn’t move from the couch even though the entire penthouse was air-conditioned.

You weren’t mentioning the temperature on purpose but Harry always listened intently even if your conversations meant nothing. He simply hummed and warned you to not go outside as he was already running errands for you.

It wasn’t until two days later when you woke up to the sound of bags zipping that you noticed what he had done.

“Sweetheart I made you breakfast, please eat it so we can get going to Italy.”

That was all he had to say as you glanced at the set of bags he packed, one of them being unfamiliar. At least five bags were waiting to be picked up by Harry’s chauffeur.

You didn’t have the heart to question anything because you knew that he did it for your comfort, even though he could easily say that it was business for the new branch in Italy.

You enjoyed the omelette with veggies that he prepared as you observed him walking around in shorts and a ‘Daddy’ shirt. Yes, a fucking ‘Daddy’ shirt.

He was making phone calls in Italian, you understood very little but you could tell that he was asking for his yacht and something about his villa.

Maybe it’s the pregnancy or simply your love for him but the way he was handling these things for you and casually strolling in such clothes with his biceps flexing every time he switched the phone from one ear to another with his other hand in his pocket….

Some drool fell on the omelette but it was nothing compared to the wetness between your thighs. He’s already looking like a dilf and you’re only one month pregnant.

“Baby I’ll clean the plates so you can take a shower before we leave. I packed all of your stuff.” He pressed a long kiss to your cheek and caressed your tummy before ushering you to your shared bedroom.

In your head you replied with ‘Yes Daddy’ and he was just taking care of you, nothing sexual!

It’s going to be a torturous vacation.

The flight to Italy was smooth and comfortable, not that he would allow anything less. He used one of his private jets and demanded to land at the nearest airport to his villa so you could avoid getting road sickness.

Whenever work got crowded and pressuring, Harry escaped to Tuscany. He was eager to introduce you to his villa in his haven. The first time he invited you he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, not that he doesn’t usually stare,but Italy is precious and so were you.

You napped on the way to the villa, resting your head on Harry’s chest as he wrapped his arm around your body, not forgetting to leave kisses on your face.

Once you arrived, he thanked his chauffeur and tipped him using a checkbook before asking you to rest and hydrate as he unpacked the suitcases. Of course, you knew better than to offer your help.

Harry’s villa was surrounded by vineyards and acres of land, he decorated it with paintings picked from all around the globe and furniture that was designed by a local Italian artist.

In the center of the living room, he has a wall dedicated to pictures of you together, from trips to random candid shots around the house. Your lip quivered as you thought of the pictures that will soon join the collection but with a new member.

You followed Harry to the bedroom and leaned against the wall watching him unpack your suitcase even though you’re capable of doing it. You approached him slowly and pressed your body to his back, allowing your lips to linger over his shoulder blade.

“I felt that something was different but it was just my baby love.” He discarded the items in his hands and turned around to wrap your body around his.

“Do you want me to help—“

“No. You know how I feel about this. Leave it to me.” His voice was stoic and straightforward, the same one he used around the office.

“What is this suitcase anyway, I haven’t seen it before.” You pointed to the unfamiliar suitcase that you first saw at the penthouse.

“It’s yours.�� He stepped aside to reveal a wide range of summer clothes still in their tag, along with different types of bikinis, all being luxury brands.

“Harry! What is this?” You searched through the full suitcase, gasping at the price on the tags. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been with your fiancée because you still haven’t come around to how much he spends on clothes. Let alone on you.

“Thought you’d want to try on new stuff while we’re here and we’re going swimming…” Harry loved to spoil you no matter what the item was. Though he never told you, he gets some sort of thrill or ego boost whenever he sees you wearing clothes that he picked out himself and paid for. Call him him weird, obsessive, or even crazy but his head becomes filled with unholy things when you wear what he chose. As for the bikinis…. With your small bump or at least the knowledge of knocking you up.

May the lord have mercy on him.

There was nothing for you to say except a ‘thank you’, followed by a ‘no need’ from him and a forehead kiss. As you glanced around the room, you noticed that he arranged everything in its place leaving nothing for you to unpack.

“Sweetheart you should start getting ready we’re spending the day on our yacht.” He shouted from the bathroom where he was making sure that all your skincare and toiletries were present.

Harry always referred to things as yours and his, even though everything was paid for with his money, not yours. The sentiment of it made you feel warm.

You glanced at all the pieces Harry bought till your eyes landed on a skimpy bikini that would barely cover your breasts or pussy…

You smiled to yourself as you placed it aside and grabbed a towel to shower. The teasing game between you and Harry was never-ending. You acted like cave people around each other when one of you was half-naked or just looking yummy.

If you were still trying to conceive, you and Harry probably wouldn’t have left the villa not that he isn’t all over you now, because boy he is.

If he wants to wear a ‘Daddy’ shirt then he might as well preach it.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself relaxing on the yacht, as you went through your beach bag to fetch the essentials. A beige dress with a simple cut near the breast area hugged your body as you hid the revealing bikini underneath it.

“Babes, is the SPF with you?” You lifted your eyes upward only to be met with your shirtless fiancée, his arms raised on the doorway and body leaning forward. The shorts were barely hiding anything, his hips were on display and if he tugged the fabric slightly, everyone would be graced with the sight of his cock.

He had an amused smile on as he lazily chewed gum and taunted you with knowing eyes from behind his Gucci sunnies. Handsome motherfucker. You might as well ovulate again right there and then even if you’re already pregnant.

You offered him a nod and tossed the cream in his direction, but why not give him a show too?

You took off your dress in front of him and everyone who was nearby.

The bralette was strapless and tight on your breasts prompting your cleavage to appear plumper, as for the bikini bottom it was a thong.

You kept a casual attitude around him as you folded your dress aside and unpacked the beach bag while sparing him glances to delight in the sight of his clenched fists and tense body.

He was a soft dominant in bed, he disliked all that ‘punishment’ stuff. Pleasure to him is something sacred, if you want to get spanked then ask for it, and if you want soft lovemaking then you should ask for it too.

You weren’t the only ones around, after all this was an area known for welcoming the wealthy so it wasn’t a surprise when you noticed the few other yachts positioned near you.

“Put it on me.” Harry handed you the sunscreen as he stood in front of you giving you a stern look. Whenever he used this facial expression with you, you knew that he was feeling it.

You squirted a small amount of the creamy SPF before lathering it all over his chest and abs, your hands were completely covered as you glided them over his skin.

His body towered over you and you could feel his gaze on you even though he had sunglasses on. He was enjoying your hands all over his hard abs especially when you slowed down your pace to take in the sight in front of you.

Would it be so bad to drop on your knees in public?

“The way you’re rubbing shows me that you’re desperate sweetie.” You avoided responding verbally and instead raised your face to taunt him with a wicked smile as your hands tortuously massaged his skin before reaching his hips and giving extra attention to the fern tattoo. With each glide, his shorts got looser and looser, his happy trail was on display, and when you glanced down you got a peek at his cock by toying with the waistband.

“Should I go for the biceps too?” You put on an innocent act, which he didn’t mind at all. He nodded at your request and turned around to give you a better angle.

“You should sit down, I can’t reach you.” He was taller than you by some good inches and that didn’t stop you from reaching him, but of course, you wanted to play your little game which he complied with.

He took a seat on the sunbathing lounge chair, with his legs spread dangerously. Instead of beginning to apply the cream on his biceps, you abruptly seated yourself on his thigh, not forgetting to let out a subtle moan at the friction or pretend to fix your position by going back and forth on his thigh.

Again, he did not seem fazed by your actions. Not because he’s unimpressed but because he adored it when you were all over him, and it showed when he wrapped his entire arm around your body, giving you easier access to his biceps but also making sure to knead your ass with his palms.

You had to use both hands to rub one bicep and still, it took longer than expected. The more he kneaded your ass, the more his bicep flexed making you drool over his body and push yourself more against him for friction.

“I thought I told you to put protection not ride my thigh.” His voice was delicious, yet so near to your ear which didn’t help your current situation.

“I’m not! Just getting comfy…” You lied to his face and continued to rub the sunscreen on his muscles. His face was inches away from yours trying to intimidate you in a good way. You always get flustered when stared at for too long, and Harry knows how to play his game.

“I can feel the moist and warmness on my thigh.” Your hands stopped gliding at his words, you knew better than to lie, he had you memorized like the back of his palm.

He slowly guided your cream-covered hand to his chest area and moved it along his skin back and forth, his alibi was seeking sun protection but his real motive was to get you riled up.

“You could lie to anyone except the person who made you pregnant.”

Playing dumb was your method. You delighted in touching his skin and toned muscles before asking him to do the same to you. You settled on your stomach, enjoying his calloused fingers running all over your back and shoulders. And of course, you offered him moans.

“You’re in for it sweetheart.” He warned as he headed off inside not even attempting to hide his visible hard on.

Too bad he left before you took off your bikini…

An hour later, you left your initial spot and sailed ahead basking in the cool wind and warm summer sun that didn’t have you begging for winter. Harry brought you refreshing drinks, water bottles, and plates of fruits.

He had switched his attitude and turned into a sweetheart, It wasn’t on purpose, but it’s how he is. He turned on the autopilot and excitedly propped himself near you. He opened a water bottle and handed it to you, asking you to have some sips despite doing that earlier as well.

Then he gave you some cherries and peeled an apple with deep focus, feeding it to you with his hand, before rubbing on your stomach and inquiring if little peanut is causing a fuss.

He rested his head on your tummy, as his lips lingered there for a while offering love to you and peanut with his fingers dancing along your hips and thighs. You swiped your hands through his hair, giving him head scratches making him a satisfied fiancée.

A straw hat covered your face from the sun, and the sound of the waves muffled Harry’s voice. He spoke to your tummy but none of the words reached your ear, but it’s fine since he seemed to have a little private moment with Peanut.

As much as he wanted to bask in this blessing, his job was to check on you. He lifted himself up barely fifteen minutes later and reapplied sunscreen to your arms, insisted on pouring water over your head because the sun was out and about, and fed you an apricot.

Most of the time his gestures are nonsexual but oh well he’s a gentleman, your gentleman, and everything he did turned you on. After leaving you alone earlier, you ogled him as his hands steered the wheel and sailed the yacht. Obviously, his biceps contracted which did not help at all since you recalled rubbing lotion on them. He even placed the pilot hat on his head.

His curls fell all over his face, and his back muscles flexed with every steer of the wheel. The weather was amazing yet the heat followed you here in the form of your fiancée.

There was nothing you could do except spread your legs, as you observed him doing regular things that got you frothing at the mouth.

And now his extensive care and dotting made it much worse. You know that other men do not act the way he does nor take care of their pregnant women this way, you’ve seen some bad examples.

“Are your muscles knotted? Do you want to get up?” His voice pulled you out of your dirty thoughts, showing his concerned face.

“All good.” You smiled at him and pulled his face in for a kiss.

Another yacht approached yours blasting loud music interrupting your little bubble. It was the same yacht that was next to you before sailing, many young adults were on board probably enjoying their euro summer.

Harry got up to take a look scoffing at how loud the music was, they were dancing in bikinis and shorts, distributing drinks, and singing along with the song.

“Scusatemi, potreste abbassare il volume della musica per favore?” He shouted to the group of girls whose yacht was in close proximity.

“Si Bello!” One of the girls replied before sending a flying kiss his way making the others erupt in giggles.

That was your cue to get up. You don’t have much knowledge on the language but you don’t need translation to know that she’s flirting with your fiancée, who was fucking smiling.

You walked toward him placing your arms around his body and waved to the group of girls as if your blood wasn’t boiling. Their faces dropped upon seeing you as they sent a fake smile your way.

“H, let’s continue sunbathing.” As soon as he heard you whispering, he knew you were off. You only used this tone with him when you were mad or up to something devilish. It wasn’t a suggestion as well.

“Of course babe.” He guided you to the huge lounge chair but instead of helping you to lie down, it was the other way around. He didn’t object nor open his mouth and from the look of mischief on your face, he won’t be questioning anything.

You straddled his lap positioning your pussy right over his crotch and inched your face closer, catching his lips in a kiss. You rested your hand on the side of his neck, deepening the kiss as you moved back and forth on his clothed cock.

“Wha—what’s gotten into you?” He panted in between kisses, with his hand wrapped around your ass.

“Am I not allowed to kiss my fiancée?” You didn’t part your lips from his and spoke in a muffled voice.

Ah, so you were feeling possessive.

“Anytime you want babe, you own me.” He played along by kneading your ass and pushing his tongue further into your mouth. Your jaw grew sore from how feverish the kiss was but Harry became relentless.

Your body leaned backward from the intensity of his kiss, and his hands roamed your body, gripping your skin tightly before moving on to another area. He moaned into your mouth and pressed his hard on to your pussy.

You knew that they were watching and that was exactly what you wanted. You didn’t care if you appeared petty or crazy. He was yours.

“You’re such a needy slut.” He had to pull you away by wrapping his hand around your throat. Your lips were swollen and the look of mischief was still painted across your face.

“Look who’s talking, weren’t you flirting around with those girls?” You tilted your head to the side, relishing the way his facial expression changed.

“Watch the words that come out of your mouth dove.” His grip against your throat tightened and the warning in his eyes was serious.

“Or what? You’ll leave and party with them?” His stern look revealed his clear irritation that he could no longer hide.

“You’re getting too mouthy. Up.” He snaked a hand to the back of your thighs, lifting you both in the process.

Again, he isn’t a man who delights in “punishment”. If he wants to be a tease or rough then so be it, he doesn’t have to call it a punishment. The one thing that he would never do is embarrass you in a situation where he is aware of your feelings, and right now you’re jealous.

He didn’t dismiss that, he’ll prove you wrong inside but for now, he has his lips attached to the nape of your neck, while his hand wanders between your hips and bum. Of course, the girls who fancied him were looking as he was all over you.

Once you were in the clear and away from prying eyes, in the safety of the bedroom inside the yacht, Harry switched his demeanor.

He guided you to the bed where you sat at the edge admiring your annoyed fiancée who gave you a promise to destroy you with his eyes.

He stood in front of you, his crotch so close to your face as he raised your chin upward. A curl had fallen on his forehead but it didn’t help in erasing his irritation.

The smell of the summer breeze and salt penetrated the room but was not enough to dismiss his cologne. He swiped his finger over your bottom lip, as your eyes ogled him starting from his pumped chest down to his chiseled abs and toned V line, right where your eye level was.

“I’m going to ask you questions and you will answer in full sentences.” His voice, low and raspy indicated that he was not up for silly games.

“Yes Sir.” You shamelessly tried to take his finger inside your mouth but he didn’t allow it. Instead, you kept gazing at his hips where the shorts were loose.

“Who’s your fiancée?” You felt his engagement ring digging into your neck as he wrapped his hand there.

“You Sir.” You answered without hesitation hoping to get away with squirming your thighs.

“Who owns you?” His pupils darkened and his voice got deeper.

“You sir.”

It stayed this way for a few other questions…

“Who worships you?”

“Who got you pregnant?”

“Who loves you endlessly?”

All of them were followed by a weak ‘You Sir’ as you rubbed your thighs together feeling aroused more than usual just from his veined hand over your throat (and the questions).

“Then why are you being a brat?” He questioned with his face inches away from yours, noses bumping together while you looked into each other’s eyes. His were dark and hungry, yours were bright and needy.

You shrugged your shoulders, avoiding a verbal response, pretending to be clueless about your attitude. Honestly you just couldn’t help it, your blood boiled when you saw how they eyed him.

“Maybe some cock will refresh your mind?” He tugged down on his shorts revealing his thick girth, red at the tip and already leaking precum.

He always knew what game to play, where to touch, what to say and how to make you surrender to him. The fact is that as much as he was obsessed with your pussy and body, you were equally infatuated with his cock.

There was no such thing before Harry, but when it came down to him everything changed, including your perspectives on dicks.

“Poor baby, is that what you want? Craving some cock to make your brain mushy?” He cooed in a mocking tone as he tapped the tip on your bottom lip, not giving you a chance to take it inside your mouth.

You stuck your tongue out at him to show him that you need it, but he definitely had other plans in his mind. His pre cum leaked on your lips and dribbled down your chin, your tongue instinctively tried to lick his cum but he knew you’d try and do that. Instead, he beat you to it and picked them up with his finger observing the subtle pout in your lips when he took them away.

“Hmm so good.” He brought his finger to his mouth and licked it clean to tease you with outrageous moans.

“Please, let me suck on it.” Your eyes darted to his veiny hand that was wrapped around his thick swollen length that is asking to be sucked.

“You do need it… maybe it’ll fix that brain of yours.” He caressed your cheek with his knuckles as one last gentle moment before coming closer, and forcing your mouth open to push his cock in.

His eyes rolled back almost immediately at the warmth of your mouth, you didn’t complain nor protest, you got to work right away as you went down on your knees with your hands going up and down on his thigh, then to the base of his cock where you cupped his balls.

Your warm mouth was heaven to him. For some reason, sinful thoughts began to flood his mind uncontrollably as he imagined you going down on your knees a few months from now as he looks down to get a view of your ruined sight, with his cock in your mouth and your big bump protruding.

“Fuck’s sake! I gave you my seed yet you still get down on your knees like a little slut for my cum.” He groaned audibly, rocking his hips back and forth enjoying the feeling of your tongue licking his cock from the base to the tip.

Whenever you gave Harry a blowjob, you had to use both of your hands. That’s how big he was. One had would be wrapped around the base while the other stroked the shaft and eased it into your mouth where your cheeks would hollow around it, as you swirl your tongue and push his length as far as you can.

The sound of your gagging was music to his ears, let alone the mischief in your eyes as you looked up to him while removing his cock from your mouth to allow the mix of saliva and pre cum to dribble down your chin, before you take him in again and moan as you squirm your thighs and shift.

“Such a good warm hole.” He patted your hair as if you were his pet while he rocked his hips faster in your mouth and smirked at the way his abs flexed.

You were absolutely insatiable when it came to his cock. You already sense the soreness in your jaw but you couldn’t care less. Your head kept bobbing on his cock back and forth, you wanted to drain the cum from him and from the look on his face, it is no secret that euphoria is hitting him.

“Fuck my mouth harder Mr. Styles.” You let out his cock from your mouth with a pop, only to reveal your scratchy voice due to his cock hitting the back of your throat. You smiled back at him with your face covered in cum and saliva, as if you were daring him.

“You won’t be speaking for days.” His hand roughly grabbed a fistful of your hair before thrusting his cock harshly inside your mouth, he maintained a vigorous pace of thrusts as the sound of intense gagging filled the room.

His hips snapped roughly as he treated your mouth like a vagina. Thrust after the other with no remorse, feeling his entire body light up from the heat of your mouth and the skill of your tongue.

Your nails dug into his thighs leaving crescent marks on his skin. Tears were streaming down your cheeks due to his roughness, the sting from his grasp on your hair intensified the feeling of pain and pleasure.

“Oh fuck!” He threw his head back as your nose bumped his happy trail. Everything felt overwhelming. Your tongue didn’t stop for one second, the veins along his girth were caressed by it, let alone his sensitive tip that leaked drop of cum that you happily choked on.

He murmured words of praise followed by a warning of his close release, his grip on your hair got loose as all the blood in his body rushed to his cock.

You broke a new record for holding your breath but it was definitely worth it, the furrow of his eyebrows, parted lips and Adam’s apple that protruded from throwing his head back and swallowing down his throat.

His cock twitched followed by the most lustful moan as he released his load, it flooded your mouth seeing as you had him fully tucked inside. You choked on the large amount of cum and pulled him out to properly swallow what he gave you. Harry was observing your movements making him release even more. Your entire face was covered with cum, some drool and saliva dripped down from your chin landing on your thighs. The cum you attempted to swallow leaked from the corners of your mouth as your hand gripped Harry’s cock tightly, aiming to milk it completely as you stuck your tongue out to not waste any drop.

“That’s it baby…drink it all up.” His sensitive tip oozed more cum into your open mouth, twitching in your hand when you squeeze at the base.

You kept swallowing his seed for what felt like ages, he released a huge load and you got dizzy from thinking about how he gave you such loads almost everyday. No wonder you get pregnant.

“Good girl, swallowing it down your tummy?” You couldn’t reply nor hum, sure you could nod but you were far too gone. After all you’re both equally obsessed with each other.

Your mouth stayed open for a while as Harry swiped his thumb over the corner of your mouth, before bringing it inside for you to suck on.

“Can’t waste any drop baby.” He caressed your cheek lovingly while you attempted to lick your lips and any area that you forgot about. Harry’s low deep voice did things to your body, let alone the sight of his toned body that you were graced with.

There’s just something about your fiancée’s body.

A few moments later, Harry lowered himself to your level pressing a kiss to your temple as he snaked a hand to the back of your thighs to lift you up on the bed with one arm.

He placed you on your back gently before moving his lips all over your tummy down to your legs where kisses your scratched knees from going down on him.

“My pretty girl bruising her pretty legs for cum.” He murmured, rubbing his thumb on your ankle.

If he had kept moaning while you sucked him and ogled his muscled body, or even pumped more of his seed into your mouth, you probably would’ve came right there and then without him touching you.

The way his eyes closed as he bit his bottom lip and clenched his fist making veins protrude in his arm, just to hold back a scandalous moan will always be engraved in your mind.

But of course he did not hold back the moans. He’s too much of a slut to do that.

Your breathing was ragged as his hands explored your lower body, you were already too aroused and Harry just won’t get to the point. Your bikini bottom is definitely wetter than it would be if you had gotten into the water.

“What’s that baby?” He cooed, pressing his nose to your clothed (and extremely wet) pussy. He took a long inhale closing his eyes as his grip tightened on your thighs before opening his eyes again. His pupils had gotten darker.

“I could smell your leaking pussy from miles away. Are you that achy?”

He was mocking you.

It was no surprise that you got insanely wet from making him cum, he knows how easily you can get aroused from the simplest of things like seeing him naked or from his actions as a gentleman toward you.

Besides being feral and primal about breeding you (which he did successfully), he tends to have a certain affinity for smelling your wetness…

Perhaps it messes with his hormones, turns him on even more or he genuinely loves the smell which would be normal as he spends most of his free time between your thighs.

“Harry you know it hurts, just fuck me.” You whined throwing your head back, trying to ignore his devilish grin that tells you he’s up to no good.

“Oh I will darling but how about some questions first?” He took your bikini off so that you were both completely naked and bare for each other.

His muscular body towered over you making you feel safe in his embrace, his cross necklace dangled in front of your face and you couldn’t help but bring your hand forward to move the fallen hair strands from his face.

“Yes love.” You were not sure what these questions were but from the look in his eyes, you knew that you won’t be moving your legs for a few days.

His eyes took in your face features with a cheesy smile plastered on his face, the same one he has on when he tells you that he adores you. He inched his face forward till your noses bumped together and his cologne consumed your thoughts.

His hand slowly reached down to your inner thighs where he rubbed circles dangerously close to your cunt.

“Are you wet because… you wish I could breed you again?…” His eyes burned into yours, his body weight pressing on you.

“…because you sucked me off?” Your breath hitched in your throat when he inserted a finger inside your warm cunt, so that the only sounds heard were the calm waves, the beating of your hearts and the sound of your wet cunt being used.

“…or because you love the idea of being fucked by your fiancée while others want him?” He added in another finger, pushing them deep inside feeling how they got soaked instantly. He fucked them slowly in and out as his eyes raked your facial expression, and relished in the clenching of your warm cunt around his fingers.

“All of them.” You answered as quickly as you could before pouring all of your focus on his fingers, they were now three massaging your folds delicately. Your hands instinctively clung to his back, as you dug your nails into his skin.

“That’s my good girl.” He increased his pace and you knew that some of your wetness must have splashed the sheets. You pushed yourself against his hand for deeper access, making him spank your bum with his other hand.

“I need you inside of me please.” Your begging was frantic and rushed.

“Could never resist this cunt baby.” He pulled his fingers out, and glided his hand over your hips making your skin soaked with your own arousal, as he nipped on your neck (the more hickeys the better).

Heat radiated off your bodies that were intertwined in the best way one could imagine, but both of you needed more. Harry asked for reassurance before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in slowly.

The first few moments of entering your cunt were better than the whole experience. The clenching of your walls, your warmness, tightness and the tiny whimpers in his ear as your foreheads touch was priceless to him.

It never mattered if the sex was soft or rough, it will always be love making to him.

Love,love,love.

“So fucking tight.” He groaned as he slowly thrusted himself inside your snug cunt, before stilling his hips and taking a deep breath to avoid cumming so soon.

“Full.” It was all you managed to say. Harry’s length could make you cry from how warm and full it makes you feel. Clenching around him is unintentional, it just happens yet you can’t help it. The pain and burn you feel at first made you drool at the mouth, you didn’t mind a little pain kink but whenever his tip pushes through your tight walls, your brain goes numb.

It was as if your cunt itself begged him to go inside. Deeper.

He continued to push himself in till your hips were against each other. You were back in your element, skin on skin, soft rocking, hungry kisses and euphoric feelings.

All the blood was rushing to your engorged clitoris that is growing more sensitive with every passing day, Harry raised your leg over his hip for a deeper angle that made you moan audibly.

His thrusts found a faster pace and you felt the veins on his thick length massage your velvet walls. The sound of wetness echoed in the room as he repeatedly hit your cervix.

“Don’t you ever doubt my love for you.” His tone was both a mix of anger and reassurance. He hated what you implied, how you thought for even a split second that he would look at someone else.

Your walls pulled him in even further with more clenching as you wrapped your legs around his hips and pressed the heel of your feet into his bum in an attempt to get him deeper (if that was even possible).

“I love you.” You whispered through short pants with your nails leaving fresh marks on his skin. His cock worked itself inside your snug cunt, in and out till you could feel him in your tummy, which he probably could too as he was glued to your body.

“Deeper please. Just want you inside.” Some teardrops fell down on your cheek from the pleasure and love you’re feeling and your need for him to be so deep inside. Whenever you had sex, Harry would fuck you so deep you’d feel him for days, yet still it doesn’t seem enough for you.

But his brain worked the exact same way in a repetitive mantra : deep inside y/n, deep inside y/n…

“Yes babylove, gonna leave you sore for a while.” Your bags always contained at least one lube bottle and a cream for soreness because well.. your fiancée is feral.

He picked up his speed with one hand balanced on the mattress and the other pressing on your throat right where his cock reached a few minutes ago.

“This cock made you pregnant. Isn’t that right baby?” His voice was straight out of an erotica book, but you couldn’t reply. You were simply lying down, taking his cock that is thrusting into you hard and fast with your eyes shut as you savored the blissful feeling.

The headboard banged against the wall as the sound of skin slapping filled the room and you almost forgot that you were out in the open on a yacht. Harry imprinted himself everywhere.

His cock fucking you roughly, his hand on your neck, the ache in your muscles, drool on your chin, old and fresh bruises on your skin, your engagement ring and the baby in your tummy.

You let out a string of curse words followed by short words in which you asked him to keep fucking you. The pressure on your neck loosened but only so he could use his hand to pull your face in for a passionate kiss.

“You own me baby. Never forget that.” He stilled his hips for a few moments before pulling himself out, only to thrust back in immediately knocking the breath out of your lungs.

He provided some attention to your perky sensitive nipples right as you stuck your tongue out at him, which he knew was an order to spit onto your tongue. A string of saliva fell from his mouth right into yours before he connected your lips again, moaning into each other’s mouths.

“I’m close.” Your clitoris was so sensitive and lately you’ve been cumming way sooner than you usually do. Your sweaty skin clung onto Harry’s as your orgasm washed over your body with one particular thrust to your cervix.

Harry followed upon hearing you moaning his name as he spurted hot cum inside your walls. The feeling of his seed flowing inside you was peak euphoria. You’re not sure if you could ever have him wear a condom again.

You bit his shoulder knowing how much he liked it but also because you lost your mind when he came inside your pussy. You felt his cum leak from where you were connected down to your thighs and onto the sheets.

“I love being stuffed by your cum.” You whispered a few moments later, earning a chuckle from him.

“Me too my love. Pussy’s made for me.” His fingers danced along your hips and slowly went down near your thighs where he swiped some of the cum that leaked, bringing it to your mouth. You immediately sucked on it and swallowed without hesitation.

“Too fucking greedy. Didn’t let me taste.” He pouted and pretended to be hurt before pushing his tongue inside your mouth.

His cum was still flowing inside your pussy, opting you to clench around his cock. He hissed from the pulsing and swatted your bum as a warning.

“Do you want me to pull out?” He whispered after a few minutes while kissing your temple.

“No just a bit more please.” You shook your head and pulled him closer.

“Whatever you want my love.” Staying inside your warm cum filled pussy was torture, and you knew that of course. His twitching did not go unnoticed but you loved it.

“Do you realise that i’m loyal to you only? I don’t want anyone else.” He murmured with his head resting on your breast.

“I know. You’re mine.” You swiped a hand through his hair before tracing his face with your fingers.

Getting jealous was a natural instinct, but at the end of the day you’re the one he fucks till he’s out of breath and of course you’re the mother of his child.

You’re his and he’s yours. It was as simple as that.

Taglist: @prettythingsworld @slut4marvelmenn @fullofstyles @cherrycokeslay @wandas-lawyer @tbsloneely @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @missmielyhoran @harryssideboob @harrysficreblog @itslottiehere @hsonlyangelxo @gem1712 @adachhi @tpwkkkkk @grapejuicebluesrry @summertime-pills @lhhrryismyhome @marzhshaim @harrystylessslut @keepdrivingkisses @rideeonstyles @swiftmendeshoran @matildasatellite @a-strange-familiar @greivingfortheliving @babyyangel111 @soblavk @straightnogayhs @awesomenavy @infinatetatie @be-with-me-so-happily @harrysrockstarsgf

If your tag is red then it didn’t work.

2K notes · View notes

dcxdpdabbles · 6 months

Note

Hey, I dont know if you are currently acepting asks but... Please can you write something with Clockwork/Alfred? I'll give you a cookie?

I really love how you write and i cant find fics with this ship

Danny gets a cryptic message from Clockwork the night that he, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz are supposed to go on a three-week College tour road trip.

A trip that they were going to use to decide where the three graduating students planned on going to college. Jazz was coming along to ease their parents' worry, mainly as a voice of reason. She had taken time off of work and classes just to make this happen.

It had taken months to plan.

So cryptic messages put a damper on the mood. Granted, all notifications from Clockwork were cryptic, but that didn't make this any less stressful.

He had just sat by his bed, leaning his back onto his lower bed frame and mattress, when he noticed the glowing sticker note on the carpeted floor.

"What does it say?" Sam sighs, closing her suitcase. She was kneeling a few feet away from him, double-checking their luggage. "A warning about the trip? Insight of an upcoming trial? Oh, let me guess, one of us is pregnant?."

"It's me, isn't it?" Tuck asks from where he's lying on Danny's bed. He places a hand under his chin with a sigh. "I've noticed a glow in my reflection lately. Danny, you're the Father."

"Shut it, Tuck." Danny laughs, turning the glowing sticky note over. "It just has an address, a date, and a time. Nothing else. I think he wants us to go there when the day comes."

Jazz walks in carrying a tray. She insisted they all take some bedtime tea to help them get enough rest for the drive. She recently started making her own blends after much research and experimenting. Danny loves it and always begs for a jar of her tea whenever he visits her. "What's going on?"

"We have to add a stop to the road plan," Sam sighs. She takes the black mug covered in white laughing sculls, nodding in gratitude to the redhead. "In one week, we have to go to Gotham."

"That's doable. We'll be going through Bludhaven by then. We would use the following two days to go sightseeing a few cities over, but we can sacrifice one of them to head to Gotham instead." Jazz hums, mentally going over their planned-out map that she likely memorized.

Danny groans, carefully resting the black mug with white constellations on the floor beside him. "I really wanted to see the hot springs resort, though."

"Member next time, Danny." Tuck pats his head while his own black mug- this one with little game controllers- is held carefully in his other hand. "After the baby is born, we'll go again."

"Why are you stuck on the whole baby thing?"

"Danny, that's no way to speak to the father of your children, especially while he's carrying," Sam chided from her corner. "The stress is bad for the baby."

"Please stop."

"But Danny," Jazz cuts in, sitting across from him. She crosses her legs underneath her, and her black mug with white books completes the set. "You should be supportive of Tucker in this very delicate time."

"I'm going to Go Ghost and never come back."

"I knew you be a deadbeat dad," Tucker tsks.

The four burst into impish laughter; the ease of the teasing joke and the calming tea rekindled the mood of excitement, even with Clockwork's glowing sticky note being shoved into their luggage to be revisited in a week.

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

"Are you sure this is the place?" Danny asks again, leaning forward to where Tucker is driving.

Jaz looks around in fascination at the large houses and spacious yards they pass while Sam sleeps beside Danny in the backseat. She just finished her turn driving for seven hours and wanted to catch up on sleep.

Personally, Danny thinks she shouldn't volunteer for the first shift- they set out at four in the morning to keep to their road plan- but he knows no one else would do it if Sam didn't.

Neither Fenton works well before nine a.m., while Tucker needs help seeing in the dark, so he always gets the day shift.

Tucker's grip on the steering wheel tightens as he grits through his teeth. "For the sixth time, Danny, this is where the GPS said to go. I am literally staring at the icon move on the map as I drive."

"It's just....look at this place! It's rich people. I think they call the cops on us for driving through here." Danny defends, knowing his consent doubts driving his bed friend up a wall but unable to stop fretting.

"I don't think they call the cops....but I think we should move as quickly as possible." Jazz advised as the houses started to grow in both size and property amount. "We're almost there."

"Why would Clockwork want us to come here?" Tucker hissed as their old beat-up fan made a turn into a road that had the trees cut into arches above their heads. It was so obviously fancy that the three got highly uncomfortable. Even Sam's house wasn't so drenched in wealth, and this was just the front entrance.

"Maybe he wants us to investigate a haunted mansion." Danny offers, "Since we're in the area and all."

Danny leans back in his seat. He glances over at Sam; upon noticing the blanket she was using had slid down, he reaches over to tuck her in.

It's just as he sits back that his enhanced sight catches the faintest outline of a man in the trees, crouched down on a branch and watching them. Danny's heart spams, but he has no time to react further as the van moves on and the man's figure disappears in the floral.

"Holy shit!" Danny swears loudly, causing Tucker to jump and tilt the van.

"Dude!" Tucker hisses, "Don't do that! You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry, sorry." Danny places a hand over his heart, trying to calm the rapid beating. "I think I just saw a demon. Pretty sure that's what Clockwork wanted us to investigate."

"A demon?" Jazz whimpers, eyes flickering all over the trees with unease. "Are you sure it was a demon?"

"It looked liked like a one," Danny responds. "I highly doubt some guy will just go around dressed like a bat for fun."

" Great. Just great. A demon, that's going to be so much fun to deal with," Tucker complains, pressing on the gas more. They don't call him out as the feeling of being watched becomes suffocating.

The sooner they're out of the open, the better.

The end of the driveway opens up to a grand manor that would have made any noble Lord green with envy. Tucker drives around the giant fountain, pulling up to the park in front of the stairway of the main entry.

He squints out the front window as he loops before gasping. "Is that Clockwork?"

The Fenton Siblings each press their noses to the glass of their windows when they come to a complete stop. Both gasped at the exact same time and in the same volume at the man who was casually waiting for them at the door.

It's obviously Clockwork, but he's not in the form they are used to. Not the flouting child, not the sticking middle-aged man, or the aged old entity. No, the form Clockwork uses is a man in his early fifties, with the grace of a sliver fox and, oh, not a ghost.

"Hello, children," Clockwork says, walking down the stairs to meet them. The three are staring at him with slack jaws, half out of their vehicle but lingering in their doors just in case.

Sam snores.

"I'm ever so glad you have come." Clockwork continues, his green eyes flickering with mirth. A smile pulls at his lips, causing laughing lines to appear around his eyes, and it complements his warm bridge skin. He is not blue. "Not a moment too late. Punctual as ever, Jasmine."

"I- ugh, thank you, sir." Jazz shutters before getting her wits about her. "Why did you call us?"

"I will be delaying your trip for the next week." Clockwork lifts up a hand as if to stop any complaints this announcement may cause, which isn't really necessary, seeing as none of them can find the strength to speak. "I will, of course, make it possible to make up the time lost. I just need you four to act as my children for the next week."

"Why?" Tucker's voice is barely above a whisper.

"I can only keep this form for seven days, as I am not a halfa, but in that time, I hope to woo a man. He is a family man through and through, so if I can show him that I am more than capable of caring for a large family, it will help me in the long run." Clockwork then shrugs. "Plus, I need an anchor, and what better than four virgins?"

"Hey!" Danny shouts offended.

Clockwork raises a brow. "Am I wrong, Daniel?"

"No, but you didn't have to expose me like that," Danny grumbles.

"Who are you trying to woo?" Jazz asks, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

Clockwork's cheeks gain a reddish hue, and the three eyes practically pop out of their socket. They never knew the time god could be so...human. It's jarring. "Alfred Pennyworth. The butler of Wayne Manor, four houses down from our manor."

"A butler?" Tucker repeats slowly, "You, the god of time and overseer of all that is, has been, and will be, want to seduce a butler?"

"Yes. He is the love of my core," Clockwork nods determinedly.

Well, who can argue with that?

"Alright." Danny agrees. "So what's our cover story?"

"Yes, my four children- all adopted- and I have recently decided to go learn about our family roots and visit our ancestral home. Only to remodel and check out the family records, we will be out by the end of the week to our next grand adventure. We are old money but one that faded from importance due to lack of contact with the rest of high society. To remedy this, I will be taking you to high-class events." Clockwork sighs dreamily. "We were invited by the Waynes to a gala tomorrow night as a welcome-back party. There, I will see Alfred."

"Alright. And the demon?"

"Demon?"

"A man in the driveway that looked like a bat." Danny helpfully says, even though his voice wavers slightly.

"Oh, you mean Bruce. Yes, that's Alfred's son. Don't worry; he can not cross our driveway. I put a spell that causes humans to forget why they were coming here if not invited by us. Also, he is not a demon. He is a human who dresses like a bat to fight crime. Bruce's children dress like birds to help him."

There is silence that sounds louder than it should as they all take in this information. Clockwork smiles at him, mischievous and graceful in equal parts as they try to make sense of the weird kid Alfred the Butler has.

"I'm going to need a lot of stress-reducing teas for this week." Jazz sighs.

"We can go buy some for you tonight," Clockwork promises, pulling out a black card and grinning with all his teeth. "We're old money now, darling."

"oh my god."

Master Post Link

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Woo thy Butler my Lord #Old Timers #Fake family #Clockwork is human and here to simp #Bruce was checking out the new neighbors. He's suspicious of them #Team Phantom just wanted to check out colleges

905 notes · View notes

leaky-bunny · 10 months

Text

on vacation right now and i can't stop thinking about how incredibly sexy beach omo with a controlling dom would be. so i wrote a little fic about it. :)

picture it: me sitting in the sand by my dom's side as they're reclined on a nice chair, soaking up sun. it's hot, so i'm guzzling water to stay hydrated and watching the waves ripple and crash against the shore. eventually, i feel my bladder pang, and i stand up to go find a bathroom, only for them to grab my hand and hold me back.

"if you're trying to do what i think you're trying to do, don't. you sit back down, sweetheart."

i agree, shifting in the sand, this time with my legs pressed a little closer together.

time passes and the need gets much much worse. the ocean does nothing to help me, its sounds only driving me closer to the edge. i tug on my dom's arm, voice now a lot more urgent as i tell them i'm going to go in the water, hoping i can secretly let go once my bottom half is fully submerged and hidden. their eyebrow raises, obviously not impressed by my weak attempt at beating the system, but nevertheless they agree and stand up as well. the change in position sends me whimpering, but i try to cover it best i can with a cough (not very successfully though because they clearly hear and smirk). we stroll towards the water, my bladder contracting as i fight the urge to hold myself. despite the beach being calm, it's certainly not empty, and our fellow vacationers probably wouldn't appreciate such a show. the second my feet touch the waves, however, i gasp as a leak forces it's was out of me, soaking into my bikini as my dom pauses by my side.

"what's wrong sweetie, i though you wanted to go in?"

i flinch as another wave laps at my feet, legs firmly pressed together. "nghh, g-gonna pee...."

their eyes turn hard as they scowl, grabbing my hand and dragging my back to our spot in the sand. "no the fuck you're not, i gave you one rule. you are keeping all that piss inside you until you burst, understood?"

i wanna beg, wanna do something to relieve the arousal now coursing through my veins, but i just nod weakly and focus on not letting any more out.

it only takes another 10 minutes for me to leak again, enough to make a tiny wet patch in the sand beneath me. this time, i do moan, eyes glazed with the desire to let go, but my dom looks over and knows immediately what happened. they smile and reach over, pretending to adjust the bottom of my bikini, but instead pressing on the bulge of my bladder, hard and achingly full. another leak sprays out, even bigger than the next one, and with that my last shred of composure breaks.

"please- fuuuck, let me pee master, i have to go so bad and i've been so good, trying my best to hold it in just like you asked me to-"

they shush me, looking around, but finding no one has overhead or seems to care. "alright baby, calm down, i know you've done well for me. dig a little hole in the sand, ok? that'll be your potty."

i nod rapidly, too excited about the concept of finally peeing to be embarrassed by their word choice. my hands work quickly, scooping at the sand next to me until there's a hole large enough to sit over, positioned so my cunt is right above it. i stare up at my dom, eyes pleading, and they smile wickedly. "open your legs baby, show master how wet you are." i do, the dampness on my crotch extremely evident, and they shake their head in disappointment. "i would punish you for leaking, but here is not the place for that. i'm feeling very gracious, so you have permission to pee now. let it out bunny, i wanna see every drop."

the sentence is barely out of their mouth before i let go, the gushing sound filling the air as i piss a torrent. at first, the sand soaks it up almost instantly, but after a while, when the entire hole is soaked, a puddle begins to froth beneath me just like the ocean. i pant and shiver, eyes rolled back into my skull, not even noticing that my dom is staring at me as if they're going to eat me whole.

"good bunny, making a mess in public for me. bet that feels good, hm? i can't wait to show you how fucking horny you make me when we get back to the hotel. master's gonna make you cum so many times your brain will turn as fuzzy as that ocean foam."

#omorashi #piss kink #bladder control #bladder holding #pee kink #full bladder #need to pee #nfsw omo

2K notes · View notes

countcvnt · 2 months

Text

Experiment

Chapter Two: Bad Dreams

[Poly!TF141/Fem!Reader]

[Ch. One]

Summary: You realize, while asleep, that just because you're out of the facility doesn't mean you're completely free. Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, mentions of blood and vomiting (nothing too graphic), Angsty Simon Word Count: ~3.5k (don't quote me on that) A/N: Was gonna wait to post this, but it's on my AO3 already (i posted this first ch. a couple days ago on there, but am just posting it here now) so i wanna post it here too. I have Covid, and time to write, so why not post it now? Hope you enjoy~ The angst is only going to pick up from here tbh

You toss and turn in bed. Your covers are strewn across the room and you’re sweating. Your eyes are screwed shut as you lie there whimpering. You can’t even force yourself awake.

“You are not acting very nice.”

Your gaze does not even meet the scientist’s. His eyes bore into yours, but you can not force yourself to look at him. Instead, you stare at the floor. Your mind is racing, you are everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“Did you hear me?” He asks. You nod. “Then act better.” He marks something down on his clipboard and you watch him closely now. “Next time, there will be no warning. You will be punished.”

You nod again. Your hands rest on your thighs, gripping your bare thighs and shaking violently. Your whole body is shaking. At this point, you can’t think of a time you weren’t shaking. Your eyes cut from the man’s hands and up to him. You see the reflection of the bright lights of the lab in his glasses. You sniffle slightly.

“You look sick.” He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours. You don’t look away this time. “After all this-” He motions around him. “That won’t happen anymore. You won’t have to worry about silly little sickness or your immune system at all. You know, after all of this, you will be the best.”

If it works, You think. You are almost certain you should have died by now. You have absolutely no clue what they have been injecting you with. You know it makes you sick. That’s about the extent of your knowledge. Well, you also know, you can die at any given moment. Whether the medicine or the guards around you takes you. Something can happen any time, and you just have to let it happen.

You remember lying in your ‘room’, throwing up blood and bile. No one checked on you. Not until the next round of testing. They gave you nausea medicine and you only hoped it’d work. Now, you're staring down the scientist who has ‘stuck by your side’ through all of the experiments. He is the only one who survived, you think. There have been several others. But you only saw them once or twice.

You aren’t sure if or how they died. You don’t like to think about it.

“We are going to test pain tolerance today.”

You perk up, in the least enthusiastic way possible. It caught your attention and set your skin ablaze. What does this entail? You can’t help but run through scenarios in your mind. The scientist pulls out a smaller syringe and places a needle in it. It’s full of a clear liquid. You don’t move. You’ve learned it’s best to not move.

He motions for you to hold out your arm. You do so, willingly. You’ve also learned it’s best to do as you’re told. He injects the needle into a vein and you try to stay relaxed. You whimper and shut your eyes. Suddenly, everything is on fire. Your body burns. A scream releases from your throat and you fall from the metal stool you had been sitting on. You curl up, clawing, scratching at your skin.

You begin to beg, “Please!” You scream for someone to stop it. “Please, help me!”

“Don’t worry,” His voice is so monotone. “It’ll pass. This is completely normal.”

You sit there, screaming and crying as the pain grows worse. You wonder if you yell loud enough if the guards would step in. But, so far, no one has stepped in. No. One. You can’t count on anyone. Not anymore. Your clawing slows down, the burning subsides. You relax and let out a small whimper. You sit up and inhale slowly. You slump over and look up at the man in front of you.

“Better?” He asks. You nod. “Good, now get back up.” You follow his instructions. “Now, I have a scalpel here. I’m going to poke you-” Your eyes widen. “-I’m not going to stab, or cut deep. I’m just checking pain levels.”

You sit back on the stool and hold your arm out again. The man grabs the scalpel from the side table and pokes into your arm. Blood rises and drips down. You feel pressure from the poke, but nothing else. You don’t react. You soon find out, maybe you should have.

“Hm, nothing?” Everything seems to be going according to plan for him and whoever was coordinating this. “Okay, next test.”

The scalpel is dug into your skin. Dull pain comes to the area, but you aren't feeling anything you should be feeling. You are too startled to scream. Blood rushes down your forearm and your eyes widen. You have learned to not pull away, so you stay there.

“Astounding…” He grabs the gauze from the small table and wraps your arm. “We will continue testing this in the morning.” He motions for some guards to come in. “I have to make sure that this… This is permanent.”

“If it’s not?” The words slip out.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

The words, his tone, they send chills up your spine. You are grabbed, harshly, by the guards and pulled into the hallway, out of the little, ‘cozy’ lab. Your eyes adjust to the dim lights of the hall and you squint. You are dragged to your ‘room’. The guard flashes his card in front of the door and it slides open. They toss you in, you hit the floor. There is no pain this time.

You want so badly for that to be a good thing. You can’t help but feel sick to your stomach though. You crawl to your mattress and lay down. You don’t even have a cover. You sigh. You curl up and go to sleep.

You wake in a cold sweat. A scream rips from your throat and your body tenses. Your breathing is ragged and a knock is coming from your door. You look towards it. You examine your surroundings. You exhale trying to calm yourself.

“Ace!” The knocking becomes violent.

Your brows furrow. You stand from your bed and walk towards the door. You swing it open and find Gaz standing there. His eyes lock with yours, before falling to your sweaty, sticky form.

“Who’s Ace?” You ask, not caring that he is probably staring at your chest.

“Sorry,” He mumbles and tries to close your door. “I shouldn’t-”

“No,” You swat at his hand, opening the door further. “Who is Ace?” A cool breeze hits your bare legs and you realize why he’s being so funny. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ and you step back. You remember that you’re wearing your tank top and panties. You grab your shorts and throw them on. “I’m Ace, aren’t I?” You finally ask.

“That is… Was your call sign.”

You notice Gaz swallow hard. You can’t help but wonder what has him so shook up. He had to have seen some thighs and cleavage before. It registers, he must not have seen yours. You make note of that.

“It’s okay, Gaz,” You reassure him, “I promise it’s fine if you look at me.” You’re trying to not laugh. You can’t help but smile though. His eyes cut from the floor and up to you.

“Are you laughing at me?” He asks, you can see him grow embarrassed and irritated.

“You’re being silly,” Your smile widens. You watch Gaz relax. You cock your head. “Acting like I’m the first pair of thighs you’ve seen in your life.”

Gaz groans. “You don’t like-” He stops himself. “You used to not be comfortable with us seeing you like this. I don’t wanna overstep any boundaries.”

“You’re very sweet, Kyle.” He lights up as you call him by his name. “I do remember being that way though… I had always been that way ever since I can remember.” Which isn’t very much, you decide it would be best to not joke about that though. “But, I guess becoming a little lab rat kinda nipped that in the bud.”

Gaz doesn’t ask further questions. “I came to check on you, because you’re thirty minutes late.”

“Let me guess,” you purse your lips, “I used to never be late.”

Gaz is at a loss for words. “Well, no! You and Price were always first at debriefings.”

You note that as well. “I guess I need to change?” You question him. Gaz keeps from dropping eye contact. You are sure you need to change. Going to whatever you needed to go to, with nothing but a tank top and shorts on would probably not be the best look on your first real day back. “I’m fucking with you, Gaz.” You turn from him and he huffs. You grab some clothes from the dresser. Gaz excuses himself and you decide it’s best to not fuck with him further.

As he closes your door, you begin to mentally prepare yourself for what the day holds. You know you’ll be digging up old memories. You know recent wounds will resurface. You have to prepare now. You run through different questions and answers.

You're on autopilot as you get dressed. You finish up and walk back towards your door. You swing it open and find Gaz waiting. “Oh, you’re still here.”

“Figured you’d need help finding the room. Unless you don’t-”

“No, no,” You interrupt, “I don’t- I don’t know where the room is.” Having to admit that hurts. Gaz catches that. He doesn’t say anything further. You follow him down the hall and through a corridor. You reach a double door and Gaz lets you in first. You spot Price, then Soap, then Ghost. Every last one of them seems uncomfortable.

You walk into the middle of the room and stand there. The door closes behind Gaz and he walks up beside you. You stand there waiting for anyone to say something. No one breaks the silence, so you decide to.

“I don’t think I like sleeping alone.” You look at Price. “I haven’t- I didn’t have a roommate in the-” You keep stopping yourself. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a roommate. I don’t know how I'd react to one. But I can not sleep alone.”

Price nods. “That can be fixed.” He is reassuring. “We'll get you set up with-”

“I want it to be one of you.” You interrupt him. All of them tense. “I know I don't remember much of anything… but you four seem to know me the best. I want it to be one of you four.” You nod to yourself as you say the last sentence.

“Do you have a preference?” Price seems like he isn't judging who you pick, but you can't help but feel like they're all judging which one you pick.

“How about-” You place a finger on your chin. “We could alternate?”

“Alternate sleeping arrangements?” Ghost speaks up.

“That can be arranged.” Price nods. “We can talk more about that later. We really need to figure out what you do know.”

“Easy,” you shrug, “I know I have a mom and dad- We moved a lot growing up. I know that I used to be self conscious.” You remember this morning.

“Used to be?” Soap asks.

“Well, yeah, being stuck in a lab changes a person.” The whole room becomes uncomfortable. “Sorry…”

“It's alright, love,” Gaz pats you on the back, and you look at him. You don't tense. You don't attack. You just stare. Your stomach flips out how he says ‘love’. “But that's not what he meant. Do you have any information on what was happening?”

You inhale slowly and close your eyes. “Okay. I don't know where I was. But I do know people came and… uh went. A lot. Do I know where they went? No. I'm assuming the guards took care of them. It was too important for people to just come and go as they pleased. The experiments were too-” You pause. “Classified. But the scientist that was with me when Soap saved me, that was my main scientist. I never got anyone's name. They said I would get, uh, stuff like that if the experiments fully worked. I'm not sure they ever had it work though-”

“On others?” Ghost interrupts. You nod. “There were others?”

“Yeah. I mean, I think so. I overheard a couple times, of different,” you pause again, thinking of what they called you, “subjects just… dying. In reality, I don't know why I'm not dead. I also believe there were more because I was dubbed Subject Five. There were, I assume, four before me. Unless they just wanted to call me Five.” You shrug, growing uncomfortable. “I do know, for a fact, they were only getting military personnel.”

“Dae ye ken how come thay picked ye?” Soap is about as uncomfortable as you are now.

“Not entirely. But the scientist had said that I was compliant. I was… pliable, that is the word he used when I walked in for the very first round of testing. He didn't want me. He made that very known. But he had me, so he did everything he could to make everything work. It wasn't always smooth. But,” you shrug, “it is what it is.”

You see Ghost shift. He looks angry. It's making you more uncomfortable. “What do you mean, it wasn't always smooth?”

“The testing was extensive. The amount of times I've been poked and jabbed is unknown at this point. I mean,” you roll your head to the side, exposing your neck, “I have little scars littering my body from… everything.”

Price can tell you're growing tense. “Have you eaten this morning?”

“Not hungry.” You respond, trying to seem as normal as possible. “But, I would like to shower… I haven't had a hot shower in, uh, four months. I only ever got cold ones.”

“One of us can show you where-”

“No, no,” you wave your hand, “I saw it earlier. I'm sure I can find it myself. You four probably have a lot to talk about. I'll be out of your hair now.” You force a smile.

You exit the room and head back to your room. That probably wasn't going to be your room much longer. You grab some clothes and head towards the showers.

Your head hurts and you want nothing but to sit in hot steam and scrub yourself under scalding hot water. You make your way into the showers and find it empty. You sigh. You go into one of the little showers and close the door. You turn on the water and relax as the warmth hits you. You groan and roll your head back. It's the nicest you have felt in months. ——————————— Simon has not felt so angry in so long. He wants to find who did this to you and kill them. Every single one of them. The way you had seemed to shrink when talking about what happened. How you look to be a shell of your former self. And how you probably don't even remember your former self.

“What do you mean we are going to alternate sleeping arrangements?” Johnny asks. Simon wants to know how it’s going to work too.

“That’s up to her.” Price finally says. “I’m assuming she’ll pick one of us to stay with during the night. We can change it every night. Or however often she needs.”

Simon needs you to pick him. But, he also hopes you don’t. Your last interaction with him has seemed to have left a horrible taste in his mouth. He wants to protect you so badly, still. Maybe you don’t need it now, or anymore. But he has to. Even if you don’t remember what happened.

“Simon,” Price’s voice is low, soft, reassuring. “This is not your fault.”

“You keep saying that.” He growls. “You weren’t there. I was. End of story.”

Simon plays the night over and over in his head. Every day. Ever since you were taken. The night at the safe house. It was you and him… It could have been him they snatched up. But it had to be you. He can’t stop thinking about how differently it could have been if it were him they took. He isn’t so pliable… His blood is boiling.

“Ghost,” Johnny speaks, bringing him back down, “she’s okay now.” He places a hand on Simon’s shoulder and tries to reassure him. Everyone is so reassuring… Simon wishes they would stop. He isn’t used to not being able to contain himself. And yet, here he stood. Seething. Ready to bash the heads in of anyone who even thought about bringing harm to you. He can’t take it.

“Fuck this.” He needs to clear his head. “I gotta go.”

Price, Johnny, and Kyle let him leave. Simon thinks maybe a hot shower would help him as well. He inhales deeply as he walks towards the showers. The door swings open and Simon realizes there is only one shower running. Good. All he can hear is water. Steam covers the room. It’s practically a sauna. The water stops running.

Then he hears it. Soft humming. A hum he knows he’s heard before.

Memories are flooding back. Your fingers running through his hair, his head on your chest, and your soft hums the only thing he can hear. Suddenly he can’t breathe. He’s frozen. He’s moving in autopilot momentarily. He’s making his way towards you. He spots you. A towel is wrapped tightly around you and your back is to him. Your hums turn to singing and Simon reaches you. He opens his mouth to speak and he realizes too late he has startled you.

He’s reaching for your shoulder when your hand grabs him. You swing him around and slam him into the concrete wall. Every bit of breath is knocked out of Simon. Your hand is on his throat and your eyes are dark. Simon notes they’re way darker than he’s ever seen.

“Oh. It’s you.”

“You’re in the men’s showers.”

Simon watches as your face drops. You look around. “No one was in here. I didn’t- My brain was too foggy.”

Simon’s hands are up. He relaxes as you let him go and his eyes don’t leave yours as you fix the towel covering you. His eyes briefly drop and he looks at the scars littering your skin. You were right. They’re mostly smaller scars, but there is one on your forearm, right under the bend of your elbow. There was force behind that one.

“Should have let us show you where it was.” He smiles under his mask. You look embarrassed. “I’ll make sure no one comes in, if you wanna get dressed, love.”

It slips out. Naturally. He tenses as the word leaves his lips. Love… His back is to you as you get dressed. He does not dare peek. As he begins to relax, words leave your mouth causing him to tense all over again.

“Ghost?”

He wants you to call him Simon. “Hm.”

“Gaz called me ‘love’ earlier too… I know it’s a British thing, but the way you both said it-” Simon tenses as you pause. “What were we? All of us?”

Simon really does not know how to answer that. He can easily tell you about him and Johnny, or about Price and Gaz. But you? Fuck, it was confusing. He didn’t entirely know what you were with the others. But he did know the both of you were close. But, never like that…

He says your name. His eyes shut. “That’s complicated.”

“Hm…” He hears you hum. “You can turn around now.”

Simon turns to find you approaching him. You’re dressed and holding your towel in your hands. “Sorry about earlier… I don’t know what happened. I didn’t know it was you-”

“It’s fine.” Simon motions for you to walk in front of him, letting you leave before him. He watches you closely. He wonders if you can feel his eyes on you. If you can, you don’t say anything. Simon wants nothing more than to reach out, rest his hand on the small of your back, and walk you to where you’re going. He refrains.

“I’m sort of hungry now…” Your words bring Simon back. “Can you show me to the cafeteria?”

Simon nods, “Of course.”

He walks in front of you. His body begins to lead the way, while his brain is stuck on you slamming him into the wall. He can’t stop thinking about it now. Processing it. You looked absolutely feral, and a little terrified. He tenses, his fingers curling into his palms, as he thinks about what happened to you to make you that way.

Simon doesn’t want to have to go through the pain of remembering certain things. But he hopes that if you do remember who snatched you up, that you will tell him who it was. So that he can cause them just as much turmoil.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john price x reader #john price #call of duty #cod mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #x reader

606 notes · View notes