#LIKE YOU HAVE ALL THE POWER AT YOUR FINGERTIPS AND IT STILL WASN’T ENOUGH | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 3 months

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Datura Pt 2

Author's Note: I initially wrote Part I and 2 as one piece but it was too long, so here's the next part :) Not sure how long this fic will be, but buckle up 'cause it'll be a good ol' enemies to lovers, political intrigue fic for however long it takes for me to figure out an ending.

Summary: Something has been hunting you for your powers and it's finally caught up with you. A Rhysand x Reader UTM What If.

Content Warnings: Suggestiveness, a little NSFW near the end, before we get to the ANGST (we're gonna suffer but we're gonna like it); that red headed bitch makes her first appearance; bit of cursing; canon typical violence.

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All attempts at speaking fail, your mouth opening and closing without any sounds coming out. Your head spins, mind reeling. This can’t be real, can’t be happening. That tonic from the priestesses had to have something weird in it. This was a hallucination.

Yes. Hallucination, that had to be it.

“We can’t stay here,” says the male, his large hands still tight on your shoulders. There’s a coppery scent on him, something damp on the edge of his shirt sleeve, brushing against the exposed skin of your shoulder. Blood. He’d been the thing those other guys were screaming at.

Your stomach twists, heart slamming in yours ears, sounding like drum beats again. No. No that wasn’t your heartbeat at all, that was the drums outside. Great, while the Spring Court was having a giant orgy you were lost in some sort of cave with… what even was this male?

Was he even fae? You still can’t see a thing in the dark.

You recover yourself enough to step out of his grip. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” your voice trembles as you speak, hands shaking at your sides. You’re defenseless out here, even with your own magic, you've never managed to control it enough to use it. “I can’t even see you.”

A mistake. You shouldn’t have admitted to it.

A flicker of light flares, glittering and spinning like…

Stars. There are actual, tiny, glittering stars swirling around his fingertips. The glittering light illuminates the walls, much higher overhead than you’d thought initially. There is much more room to move around in general, but the darkness had been so thick you’d mistaken it for rocks. The light doesn’t pierce all the way through though, only the space between the two of you, the darkness beyond still moving and shifting like a wall. Your eyes track it back to the towering male ahead of you, the darkness drifting off him like a mist. Not the darkness of the cave at all, but one of his own making. It moves on his whim around the two of you, a bit of it still caressing your spine, your bare legs, while the rest hovers like some sort of bubble. A shield perhaps, you know the High Fae can make them, but it is just as likely to be a cage.

You try to summon claws, focusing your thoughts into getting your hands to change, shift, but nothing happens. Nothing but a slight twinge of pain in your skull.

As if he knows it, feels it, the stranger reaches a star flecked hand out to brush a tendril of hair off your forehead, his callused hands warm against your flushed skin. You shiver despite yourself.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he says. That voice is rich, low, a lover’s purr.

He is fae, not the monster you had initially suspected. You aren’t sure what people usually wear on Calanmai, but the dark pants, the loose fitting shirt, half unbuttoned to reveal a swirl of dark ink across his bronze chest, and boots seems out of place. As if he’s over-dressed. Half a dozen rings glitter in the starlight spinning between his slender fingers, but you cannot ignore the blood that’s dusted over them.

“What happened to the others that came into the cave?”

A shadow passes over his face, dark brows furrowing. He’s a gorgeous male, by far the most handsome male you’d ever seen in your life, but that look, as the glow in his eyes dims, pupils expanding so there was nothing but endless darkness… it's like looking at the paintings of the Death Gods you’ve seen in your books. The shadow at your back writhes as if agitated, only settling once the look has passed and the violet returns to his eyes.

“They wanted to hurt you,” a low growl.

You shiver. “Why’d you call me out here then, if it’s unsafe?”

He tilts his head, a predator assessing prey, only cold calculations in that gaze. It’s an effort not to squirm under the scrutiny. “It’s not safe there either.”

“In my home?” You counter.

“In Spring,” he returns.

“Spring is perfectly safe, it’s practically the only place that-”

He moves faster than you can blink, clamping a hand over your mouth. “Don’t speak things like that in places like this!” He hisses. It’s not anger on his face, though, it is fear. You feel the chill of it seep through the bubble of darkness he’s created. His whole body shakes with it.

What do males with this kind of power fear?

It makes you nervous, wondering, but not as much as having a stranger put their hands on you. You sink your teeth into the flesh of his palm so hard you draw blood, and as he yanks his hand back, you move to run. Only to find the shadows blocking your path, no longer wisps, but solid, like adamant. You practically bounce off it.

“Let me out,” you order.

He stares down at his hand with a smirk, amused. “That was cheap.”

“I don’t like being touched by strangers,” you hiss. “Now let me out or I’ll really fucking bite you.”

He chuckles and the sound of it skitters over your bones, makes a whole other type of shiver run across your skin. Perhaps that’s part of the magic of Calanmai, the ability to remove the usual inhibitions and allow the souls to merge as the magic of the land demands. You quietly curse yourself for being so powerless against it. With enough training you should have been able to shield from it, but there’s no time for it now.

“What if I like being bitten, hm?” He teases.

“Then you’ll love when I rip your fucking throat out with my teeth.”

He takes a step closer and tilts his chin up, baring the full expanse of his throat to you. “I’ll let you, but then, how would your find a way out of the cave?”

“Bastard,” you snarl, but you can’t stop yourself from watching the way his throat works when he swallows, the way he grins at the roof, watching you, calculating what your next move will be. He knows he has you right where he wants you, it’s like watching a cat play with a mouse.

He slowly lowers his chin, still grinning. “It’s this way,” he gestures with a hand and the wall of shadows moves further into the cave.

You stare after it, than at him. “Isn’t the entrance the other way?”

“Trust me.”

“I don’t even know your name, why would I trust you?”

He reaches out and grabs your hand, but before you can pull away from him again, he’s pressing your knuckles to his lips. They’re surprisingly soft against your skin; electricity shooting through you, as he says in a voice made for the bedroom, “Rhys.”

Rhys, Darkness Incarnate, apparently. His name was an answer to a question you’d been asking yourself the last couple of years. Strange as the circumstance are, he fits exactly what you’d imagined the voice that had hounded you would sound like. Putting a face to the voice was strangely comforting, like there was no longer some strange threat hanging around your head every year anymore.

“I’m Y/N.”

You’re sure you’re an idiot for telling him. It’s not like he’s dropping the shield and letting your run out, it’s still there, caging you in as you move through the cave, side by side. Just because he’s leading you somewhere doesn’t mean it’s somewhere good, this very well could be a trap. Your head hurts trying to figure out what’s real, what’s likely. You’re not entirely convinced this still isn’t a hallucination.

He tries your name out on his tongue, nodding to himself, like he’d been looking for the answer to a question too.

Your heart clenches in your chest at the sight. There is something lonely about him you can’t quite place.

“Has it really been you, calling me these last couple years?” You ask softly; you’re trapped down here with him, might as well pass the time until you get to whatever bitter end awaits you.

He nods as you take a sharp left and descend down further at a slopping angle that has you holding onto the walls for support. It’s colder the deeper you go, despite the budding summer heat the rest of the court is feeling outside. You’re trembling as the path goes from soft sand to smooth, icy stone, the rock seeping all heat from your body on contact.

“Yes,” Rhys confesses. He stops for a moment, head tilted to the side like he’s listening for something, more shadows leaking from him, slipping through the shield to do Mother knows what.

When he looks back at you, his eyes are dark, sad. “It’s not safe.” He repeats. “I was trying to warn you.”

You run your hands over your arms, trying to get some heat back. Without a thought he’s unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it over your shoulders. The move if effortless, gentle, so at odds with what’s happening you can’t do anything other than slide your arms into the too big sleeves and pull it tight around you on sheer muscle memory. Its warm; the scent of jasmine and citrus and the sea all over it. You strangely want to bury yourself in it, until that scent is burned into your skin, your lungs, until it’s the only thing you breath. Calanmai at work, you can only assume.

With a hand on your back he prompts you forward again, even as he continues. “I didn’t know what else to do, it was my only chance to reach you.” His palm takes up the expanse of your lower back, you are so small next to him.

“But why me?”

The swirling tattoos cross over his chest and back, leaving a small gap between his shoulders, like there’s something supposed to be there, some small piece of him missing in those gaps between the ink. The urge to run your fingers over them is almost overwhelming, you have to pull your hands into his shirtsleeves to stop yourself.

“You’re-” he pauses and you swear you hear claws scratching somewhere above you.

Instinctively, before you can stop and think about what you’re doing, you press yourself closer to him. It’s the most natural thing in the world for him to slide an arm around your shoulders and pull you against his side. He’s all sleek muscle, a warrior’s build, though he carries no visible weapons. Perhaps, with powers like these he doesn’t need any.

The shield shudders around the two of you as he draws it in so close there is no room to move away from him.

You don’t dare speak again, the stillness he radiates tells you enough.

Several long minutes pass before the shield moves outward again and he gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze signaling that the two of you should press on.

“What do you know of your parents?” He says finally, loosing a sigh of relief.

“I don’t even remember them,” you say. “What do you know of them?”

“I fought against your father in the War,” he replies .

Your father was a soldier?

“He’s a very powerful male,” he continues but all you can focus on the choice of words, the current tense, as if your father is still alive. “As was your mother.”

Your head spins; he grips you a little tighter like he knows it.

“There are a lot of powerful people who would like to get their hands on your power,” he says.

Its an effort to swallow. “I don’t even know how to use them,” you whisper.

He winces. “You have no training?” It almost sounds like horror in his voice.

You stare down at your hands, like their the source of all your problems. “My uncle said they would just… click.”

“Cauldron boil me,” he curses.

“I take it that’s not what you were hoping to hear?”

The cave split into four directions, one way covered with stalagmites dripping a strange glowing liquid, another bursting with flowers, a third full of rubble, the fourth the only clear path out. You go to that one, cautiously, Rhys keeping his head tilted, listening to what dangers might lay ahead.

“You’re vulnerable, is all,” Rhys says softly. “And there’s not enough time to change that now.”

A sense of foreboding lands in the pit of your stomach. “How much time do we have?”

“I have to be gone by sunrise,” he answers.

Gone, the foreboding turns into outright anxiety, stomach now twisting in knots. You resist the urge to reach out and take his hand. It’s nice having him here, you’re not ready to give this up just yet. “So there’s a reason you only call to me on Calanmai?”

He only nods.

“What happens if you’re still here by sunrise?”

He runs his tongue over his full lower lip, thinking.

“Are you like a vampire or something? Do you go poof?” You make an exploding gesture with your hands and he laughs, the echo bouncing off the shield. You’re not sure why it’s the laugh that makes you decide to trust him fully. Maybe some naïve part of you thinks if he meant you harm he wouldn’t be laughing at your stupid jokes.

“No,” he says, hand on his stomach as he fights to catch his breath. “Nothing like that.”

You watch the way his muscles shift as he catches his breath, the way his chest rises and falls. You’d like nothing more than to run your tongue along the sharp planes of him. You can’t stop yourself from wondering if you’d be able to taste the jasmine and citrus on his skin if you did.

“You’re sure? Let me see your teeth?”

He flashes you a grin that makes your stomach do flips. “See? No fangs.”

You turn towards him, pressing in closer, teasingly assessing, like you’re unsure. Calanmai has made you bold, you have to admit. Even with the new time limit closing down on you, you can’t help but stop for just a minute to enjoy this side of the male before you.

“So what are you then? If you have to work under the moon?”

“I’ve been many things,” he says, his eyes drifting down to your lips.

“And right now, what are you?” You press.

“Right now…” he places a hand on your hip and pulls you flush against him. “Right now I’m all yours, Darling.”

You must be somewhere close to where the party is happening above, because you can hear the drums again, as if the music is beating from within the rocks of the cave walls, the reverberations vibrating under your skin. It’s too much, too loud, pushing you closer to him, the silence that fills your head when he touches you the only way to make the noise stop.

Perhaps this was the plan the whole time: Get you away from the crowds, somewhere secluded, get you to trust him, to embrace him, but you can’t stop yourself from stretching up on your toes to kiss him. Did it matter in the end? He groans as he deepens the kiss, one star flecked hand sliding into the strands of your hair, angling your head for him to easily swipe his tongue into your mouth. The kiss is demanding, but soft somehow, like he’s desperate for it, you, but not holding so tight that you can’t pull away from him if you want.

The shadows return, dancing over your skin, skittering higher and higher up your thighs, across your waist, your chest. You let your own hands explore the broad expanse of his chest, skin silky and warm beneath your fingertips.

If this was the plan all along, you don’t care. This is good.

He tastes like starlight, like the night chilled wind across a calming sea. It conjures one in your mind, gentle waves lapping at a moonlight shore; there’s music floating across the water, the sounds faint and distant but much more soothing than the demand of the drums above you.

All too soon he’s pulling away from you, gentle kisses placed against the corners of your lips, your chin, the underside of your jaw. “Wish we had more time,” he whispers into your skin. “Want to take my time with you.”

You’re absolutely molten, very aware of how soaked your panties are, just barely covered by your thin shift. Any other night you might have had more presence of mind to be mortified that you were so wet just from kissing someone, but not tonight. Tonight it makes sense, is the only thing that makes sense.

He brushes his nose along the column of your throat, scenting you. “We really should keep moving,” but his hand trails down your front, tracing the valley between your breasts, sliding lower.

You tilt and kiss him again, hand tangling in his onyx hair. Nothing has ever felt as good as kissing him, you doubt anything else could ever compare. Unfair that you only have one night, one moment, you’re sure he’d ruin anyone else for you given the right amount of time.

He indulges you, just as hungry as before, hand still sliding lower, until he finds the hem of your panties through your shift.

You ache between your legs, have half a mind to beg and plead for him to touch you. Your feelings about Calanmai be damned, you want him to keep going, to kiss you, touch you, ruin you until the time he has left is spent.

Deft fingers find the hem of your shift, pulling it slowly upwards until he can bunch it up in his hand.

“Rhys,” you whimper into his lips.

His pupils are lust blown, lips kiss swollen and pink. “I know, I feel it too.”

You are used to the feeling of your power prowling beneath your skin, a caged animal begging to be released, this is not entirely different, but instead that power is replaced with him. You want, need, him everywhere. Need him to keep kissing, touching.

He slides his hand under your waistband, movements slow, precise, letting you indulge in the scrape of his callused hands over your soft skin. The movement alone is almost too much, your breath rasping out of you, trying not to squirm. He’s so close to where you need him…

“Rhysand!”

A female voice shakes the cave, the shield. Rhys jerks away from you like the voice hit him, eyes wide.

You grab onto the edges of his shirt and snap it closed around you like it will hide what you’ve been doing.

Footsteps echo, the cave shaking.

Rhys glances at you, eyes wide. “Stay quiet.” He says it in your mind, as easily as he has done for all these years. You don’t have time to ask how he can do it, or why, as he runs a hand through his hair, fixing it, before sliding out of the shield. It swallows you, tightening so you can’t run, can’t see what’s happening.

You barely dare to breath, as the footsteps stop not far from where you are. “Busy are we?” The shield can’t keep out the voice.

“Hunting as you asked, My Queen,” he says smoothly, casually.

Queen?

Whoever she is, she gives a mirthless laugh. “You call what you’re doing hunting now?”

“You said to use the caves-”

“I didn’t say fuck some whore in them,” she snarls. “I can smell her on you.”

You’re mortified enough to wonder if your powers could let you somehow dissolve into goo and melt into the floor.

“All part of the plan,” Rhys answers and your heart sinks as his words hit home.

“So you know where she is?”

“Of course,” Rhys says and the shield suddenly vanishes, the cold absence of it hitting you in a rush.

You give a little squeak of surprise, tightening his shirt around your exposed body as your eyes adjust to the soft gray light of the cave. You spent two much time here, the sun now rising outside.

The woman before you was tall, slender, eyes dark, mouth a cruel, pinched line. The blood red hair only serves to make her all the more pale and as she takes you in, her teeth flashing in a grin, you get the feeling that this what a wolf looks like when it sees a lamb.

“This little thing?” She stalks towards you and you take a step back, some instinctive, primal part of you recognizing that the more space between the two of you the better. You can still turn heal and run if she’s far enough away.

“Don’t worry, little one,” she coos at you, reaching out a claw tipped hand. Her blood red nails are sharpened to spikes, bit it’s the ring, with a swiveling, life like eye in the center that makes every muscle in your body tense up. “I’m here to help you.”

“Fuck off!” You hiss. There’s only one exit, the way she came, slopping upward, the floor clearly damp with morning dew. You’d need a good head start to make it up there first.

Rhys is watching you with the same intensity he’d kissed you with and you wish you had something to hurl at his head. You should have known better than to trust him.

“Quite the mouth on you,” she purrs. “I hope Rhysand put it to good use.”

Something in you chest cracks, a lump forming in your throat. You need to get out of his shirt, get the taste of him out of your mouth; he played you like a fiddle and if whoever this lady is hadn’t shown up, would have used you for his own amusement. And you would have let him.

“What do you want?” You bite out, inching closer to the exit.

“As I said,” she says slowly, like you’re too dumb to understand. “I’m here to help.”

“I don’t need help,” you throw a withering glance at the male. “From either of you.”

“Oh but that’s just not true, is it, little one?” She doesn’t move, but something feels wrong. You don’t know why, but your whole body suddenly freezes, heart slamming in your chest.

No not frozen, you’d move if you could, but you can’t. It’s as if something grabbed hold of you, held you in place.

“There are a lot of people looking for your, Princess.”

Princess? This is a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.

“Oh she doesn’t know, does she?” She smirks at Rhys, who shakes his head in conformation.

“Imagine that, the daughter of the King of Hybern, raised a simple little farm hand,” she grins like she knows she’s won, even as your head spins.

Hybern. You knew the name from your history books, the King a ruthless tyrant who nearly destroyed Prythian to get back his human slaves. Your mouth is dry, your hands might have shook, could you move your body.

She curls her fingers in a come here motion and as if someone has you on strings like a puppet, you take two steps towards her. You try to dig your heels in, fight it, but the hold over you won’t budge. You walk until your close enough for her to graze the tips of her claws under your chin.

“There are a lot of bad people trying to find you, little one.”

The only thing you have full control over is your mouth, so you snarl and flash your teeth, wishing you had the ability to grow fangs, “I’m pretty sure you are the bad people, bitch!”

She smirks but the grip she takes on your chin is anything but kind, your jaw groaning under the crushing weight of her grip. Her nails draw blood, crimson trickling down your jaw. “Poor, delusional little thing. Don’t you worry, we’re going to take good care of you, aren’t we, Rhysand.”

He grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “Of course!”

“Your father will be very pleased to hear you’re alive,” she says to you.

To Rhys she says, “Bind her, I don’t want her trying to run again.”

You still can’t move, can’t flee. Some small piece of you wants to beg, plead for him to let you go, to prove you wrong about him, but you’re pride won’t let you. Not as more wisps of shadow curl around his wrists and hands like snakes, no more stars to be seen.

“I should have ripped out your throat,” you snarl.

The shadows jump from him, twining around your wrists and ankles, not the gentle caresses from earlier, tightening until you can barely move your fingers and toes.

Rhys grins at you, shrugs, but it’s in your mind that you hear the same quip from earlier, “I would have let you.” It’s not teasing this time though, it’s sad, haunted.

Doesn’t matter, he’s still checking your hands, tossing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. You tell yourself you won’t cry here, won’t give either of these bastards the satisfaction, there will be a time for that later.

It’s not much farther before sunlight blinds you, only a few steps of Rhys’ long legs before you’re out of the cave. You’d been so close. It had been right there this whole time! Had you not been so distracted, had those stupid drums not been so loud you might have made it. Might have gotten to go home.

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader smut #utm!rhys x reader #rhysand fic #acotar fic #acotar smut #acotar series #my fanfic #my writing

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aaagustd · 14 days

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cat and mouse | kim namjoon

title: cat and mouse pairing: kim namjoon x thief!(f)reader genre/rating: smut, pwp; 18+

summary: every weekend you sneak into one of namjoon's parties and attempt to steal his jewelry. sometimes you get caught; sometimes you get away, but you'll always be back for more. wc: 1.1k warnings: g*ns/w**pons, threats of t*rture/m*rder, reader and namjoon are just something else honestly, reader is captured but all acts are consensual, mentions violence, g*n play (whether it's loaded or not is up to you but in my mind it's def loaded), impact play, f*ngering, c*m eating, finger sucking, hair pulling, cl*t stimulation, pet names (pretty doll, doll, etc), name calling/degradation, restraints/handcuffs, sensory deprivation; unedited lol…let me know if i missed something release date: april 14th, 2024; 12:36am note: hi! don't look at me. someone requested this awhile back lol. i hope you like it anon. it's not much since i've been preparing for room for two but i appreciate you for sending in a request. thank you for celebrating with me.💞

masterlist - inbox - read on ao3 - join my taglist?

“You’re in trouble now, bitch.”

You can hear the sound of his footsteps before he even enters the room. Even the muffled sound of coming music downstairs doesn’t overpower his aura. Soon the pungent odor of whiskey and decaying molars will be covered by the smell of money, rage, and Chanel.

As you listen to the cackling—nose twisted with disgust—your fingertips explore your cuffs, knowing that nothing man-made is escape proof.

Your lashes push against your blindfold, trying to make out the four silhouettes standing before you. Once you have found your way out of this mess—and you definitely will—your first vendetta is to take them to your dungeon for some much needed dental work.

Every single one of those rotten pieces of shits will be remove and shoved directly up their—

“Give us some privacy.”

His voice tears you out of your plot for revenge.

The room instantly becomes silent, no one daring to speak a word out of turn when it comes to the boss. His dominance needs no introduction as he’s one of the wealthiest and most powerful men to call this city home.

Crossing him is a death sentence. One you’ve managed to escape several times. Tonight will be no different.

“You just can’t keep your hands off of my shit, can you?”

After the room is cleared, he acknowledges your presence and moves closer towards your bound figure. Despite standing for almost an hour with your hands over your head, you show no sign of weakness because you’ve been through worse—much worse.

“I’m starting to think you like getting caught.”

A grin spreads across your face, further testing his patience. “Aw, don’t you miss me, Namjoon?”

“Watch your mouth, pretty doll.”

He grabs you by your jaw, squeezing your cheeks harshly enough to cause a slight discomfort. Still, you laugh in his face unfazed.

“Or what?” you taunt. “Going to rough me up like your brutes did?”

There’s a pause.

“They touched you?”

Namjoon’s body tenses. “I told them not to.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, and I’m sure I wasn’t an easy catch.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replies. “I’m sorry—”

The sound of metal clinking as you attempt to pick the lock of your cuffs pierces Namjoon’s ears like a knife. The sincerity in his tone fades away as it is replaced with anger, knowing he’s fallen for your lies.

“You little bitch. Are you crazy?”

“Just a tad,” you counter.

He pulls his glock from his waistband and places it directly beneath your jawline.

“Drop it,” he demands, referring to the bobby pin tucked between your fingers.

You allow it to fall to the floor, abandoning this method of escape—but he’s a fool if he thinks you don’t have more up your sleeves.

“Aw, man. You caught me.”

Your sarcasm doesn’t amuse him in the slightest.

“You think I won’t blow your fucking brains out, doll? ‘Cause I will.”

You cackle, throwing your head back and ignoring his threats. Namjoon grabs your hair and reunites the barrel of his gun with your face.

“Does it look like I’m joking?”

You take deep breaths, calming yourself so you can speak. Namjoon keeps a firm grip on you, making sure you can’t squirm away. Little does he know, you wouldn’t dream of moving.

“You aim that any lower and I might make a mess of this expensive ass floor,” you whisper.

You watch the way his head tilts through the fabric as he processes that statement. He ponders over the thought for just a moment, and then lets his curiosity run wild. “Is that so?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Indeed.”

The weapon slowly travels down your body, making your adrenaline spike as it descends. You know his eyes follow the trail every inch of the way till he reaches your thighs. There, he pauses—allowing you to spread your legs voluntarily before he moves any further.

Your dress starts to rise slightly as Namjoon searches for your center. Upon contact, your back arches—exposing your eagerness to fulfill your twisted fantasy.

“No panties?”

“In this dress? Be for real.”

Namjoon chuckles, making small circles as his weapon touches your clit. The feeling elicits small moans from your lips, and he doesn’t seem to want to keep them at bay.

“Maybe you were just…prepared?”

He smacks your clit so abruptly you don’t even have time to brace yourself. You bite your lip to suppress your scream, but your whimpering is still a lot louder than you intended.

“Or that,” you answer breathlessly.

He spanks your pussy a few more times, leaving you trembling and dripping. Juices run down your thighs and Namjoon collects it on his fingers before having a taste.

You hear him moaning around his fingers, lapping up every drop of your wetness he was able to gather. He goes for seconds, but this time he puts his finger in your mouth—making you taste yourself while he watches you with his dark eyes.

“Nobody should taste that sweet, doll. I should put a bullet in your head right where you stand.”

“Do it.”

“Hm,” he scoffs. “Don’t test me.”

Once again, the steel is in your face while Namjoon’s other hand slips between your thighs. With no warning, he pushes them into your wet crevice, causing you to shriek in surprise.

“Keep playing with…like I won’t blow all your fucking teeth out.”

Thumb pressed against your clit, index and middle fingers deep inside of you—he pleasures your pussy while he spits venom in your ears.

“But I bet you’d like that, huh?” he quizzes. “Twisted little slut.”

“Mm, fuck!”

“Speechless, aren’t we?”

Your eyes roll back when he speeds up. You’re unable to warn him because the pressure building inside of you abruptly bursts, sending you into an intense orgasm.

“That’s it,” Namjoon coos.

He shows no mercy as you wither with sensitivity, draining you of every ounce of strength you have left. You’re spent by the time his fingers slide out of you. You stand there slumped over, struggling to catch your breath.

“Look at what a mess I’ve made of you.”

Namjoon snatches your blindfold off, and exposes your eyes to the piercing bright lights. You turn your head until your vision adjusts, but even through everything you just endured—your focus never strayed away from your ultimate goal.

“There are a million other things you could be doing, doll. This is getting old.”

Namjoon begins to walk away, thinking you’re still restrained. You don’t waste time letting him know he’s dropped the ball yet again.

“Like what?”

You purposefully allow the metal to hit the floor so he can hear it. Namjoon stops in his tracks before looking over his shoulder.

“Come with me. You’ll find out.”

#namjoon x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fics #namjoon fics #namjoon imagines #bts imagines #kim namjoon smut #kim namjoon fanfic #rm smut #rm imagines #rm x reader #rm fanfic #aaagustd.fics

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sehtoast · 1 month

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Perfect Punishment (Homelander x gn!Reader Smut)

18+ | spanking, leg humping, technically supe!reader (vague), sublander, light choking | Fic Directory

Suffice it to say, you're never quite sure how you end up in these situations. Granted, the common denominator in all of them was that Homelander was an endlessly voracious man in need of an infinite amount of attention, and he'd go to any lengths to get it.

Even this.

“Mmm, harder…” He hums as your palm strikes his rear, a playful grin etching into his face at the resounding slap.

“I thought this was a punishment,” you say as you rub soothing circles over the red of his briefs. “Doesn’t really count if you like it.” You're almost ready to stop and leave him hanging as a real punishment.

“Right, right. Ah! Ow!”

You roll your eyes at his theatrics. You'd teased him about being such a bad boy, but it seemed like he was all too happy to fill that role. His behavior cranked past ten, and now here you are: The Homelander himself bent over your knee, underwear pulled down just a smidge and pants at his ankles.

You're not even sure who made the spanking joke first, but god knows his eyes practically lit up like a Christmas tree at the mere mention.

For his smart comment, you swat significantly harder. You could never actually hurt him– maybe just sting him a little. In fact, you have a sneaking suspicion that the power dynamic reversal is what has him rocking against your thigh like the needy little thing he is. So pathetically horny at the idea of being weak and vulnerable for you.

Of being punished by you.

Not even his commentary could hide it.

“Oooh, that one tickled.” He snarks one more time, but his voice betrays him completely. A slight quiver in his words, a shaky breath exhaled, cheeks turning a light pink. “C'mon, babe. Give it to me. Unless you're all talk…”

Antagonistic little…

You grip his briefs and rip them clean off, revealing his bare ass to knead and squeeze to your heart's content. You loop an arm around his neck, restricting his throat between your forearm and bicep, tugging him just enough to make his back arch.

“You're a very bad boy,” you whisper, nails scratching his glutes. What little fabric survived the rip still miraculously covers his cock as he grinds against you unabashedly. You wind up for the swing and–

“Mmph!”

Like music to your ears, he chokes on the cutest little sound. Something squeaky and precious, surprise vocalizing high in his throat at your sudden brazenness and strength.

“You just wanted to hump my leg like a dog, didn't you?” You accuse, tightening your arm at his neck. You rub your last strike tenderly, letting your fingers slip along the curve of his crack. You can practically feel the way he shivers against you. “You’re makin’ a mess down there, aren’t you baby?”

Even pressed firm against your leg, you can feel his drooling cock twitch with need. The surviving scrap of fabric has to be drenched at this rate– you can almost feel the heated moisture and you know damn well his cock weeps practically the whole time he’s aroused on a regular day.

A breathy moan escapes his slack mouth the second your fingertips graze his sack, hips bucking forward to seek more of whatever delicious friction he'd found against your lap.

“You just wanted to lay on me and get played with like the little whore you are.” You trail your hand back and grip a cheek as hard as you can, nails biting into his flesh. “Admit it. You acted out for attention.”

“Mmm, yeah– fuck,” he confesses through a breathless whisper.

For his honesty, you reward him with a warm palm to his balls, feeling them tighten every time a pulse of pleasure surges through his body from how you play with him.

He keens softly, eyes screwing shut against the twist of bliss knotting in his core. He ruts even more brazenly than before, as if he wasn’t just getting spanked mere moments prior for always having to have his way. Your body rocks with the strength of his thrusts, so you angle your leg to press back against him. Sure, he was being ‘punished,’ but you’re not totally cruel.

“You wanna be my good boy, right?” You ask ever so innocently in his ear, breath fanning against the shell of it in a way that makes him arch further back. His mindless little nods make you grin sharply. “I thought so…”

Your hand comes down with a sharp crack against his right cheek and he writhes against you, mewling through his restricted throat.

“Count ‘em off for me,” you say, squeezing his neck a little more. You let off for a moment only to remind him to speak up if something’s too much, then squeeze again.

Slap!

“O-One!” He announces, hips bucking against you.

You can hear it in his voice– he’s like a time bomb ready to blow. His expression is infinitely more desperate. Hooded red eyes, cheeks burning a deep crimson, tongue peeking out just over the edge of his lower lip. If there was ever an image fit to sit beside whore in a dictionary, it was the sight of him like this.

“Tell me how good you’re gonna be for me after this.”

“I’m– I’m gonna be so good!” He promises through panted breaths. “Good for you– good f–”

You don’t let him finish before you swat his reddening flesh several more times in quick succession, watching with pure satisfaction as that mouth that never stops running opens to moan so loudly you’re almost sure the floor below must have heard it.

“N-Nine… No– no, fuck!”

Poor thing had to make a guess.

You tsk at him in false disapproval. “Good boys don’t lose count,” you say, even though he was definitely right. “Start again.”

And he did, too. By the time you make it back to the count of nine, his legs are quivering and his precum has soaked through the leg of your pants.

“Please, please, please!” He mewls desperately. “Let me– oh fuck, please let me come! Please, just– fuck I need it! I’ll be good!” He’s rocking against you without permission of any type as he spouts off promise after promise to behave himself for you. “Good– good b-boy… I’m your g’boy, I p-prom– ohfuckohfuckohfuck!”

And just like that, he’s blowing a thick, creamy load against you, legs spasming and glowing eyes rolling back in his head as you hold him through what must be an absolutely earth shattering orgasm if the full body trembling was anything to go by. Your name falls from his lips in a repeated prayer until all he can do is simply mouth it silently.

Your lips are to his ear the whole time, whispering affections and praise, adoration and love in droves.

“You are my good boy,” you say, accentuating your words with soft caresses to his sack. “My very, very good boy that I love so much.”

“M’your g’boy…” he murmurs weakly, eyes shut as he sinks into the glow. For a second, you think he might actually be calm for the rest of the evening.

Who are you kidding? He’s going to act up all night after this. You wager you've got about fifteen minutes of aftercare and snuggles before that switch flips and you're fucked on every horizontal and vertical surface he can possibly think of.

And you?

You’re gonna love every fucking second of it.

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #homelander smut #the boys #antony starr

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kingkatsuki · 2 years

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Locked Up | Kirishima Eijirou x Reader

I apologise to all my other WIPs. Blame Kitten.

Summary: As a nurse inside Musutafu correctional facility, you’re not naive to the threat the various inmates pose, but you manage to catch the eye of one of the most dangerous- a high ranking member of Dynamight’s gang, Red Riot.

Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, pwp, not proof read, semi-public sex, dirty talk, manipulation, a sprinkle of degradation, potential dubcon (just to be safe- Kiri lies a lot) but tbh he just proper fancies reader, no prep, no protection, creampie, panty theft. If I missed anything lemme know!

Word Count: 6.6k.

Musutafu correctional facility was a place where some of the most hardened criminals were incarcerated. The barbed wire fence that surrounded the building was designed to look intimidating, and it did– but nothing could compare to how menacing the men looked inside. There were men from all walks of life, some that had just been handed unlucky cards in life and been led down the wrong path, others who would never step free again– sentenced to serve the rest of their lives behind bars. Others were in for shorter stays, completing the final parts of their rehabilitation programs before they were integrated back into society.

And then there were men like Kirishima Eijirou.

You’d heard stories about why he was inside, rumours that constantly circulated around the cold four walls that were hard to ignore. News report after report backed up a lot of the outlandish claims, things you wouldn’t even believe were true unless you’d heard them so vividly spoken so many times. He was part of the biggest gang in Musutafu, Dynamight’s right-hand man. He’d been inside almost a year, and still had six left to serve, although he seemed confident that his expensive lawyer would have him out in two.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Kirishima smiled as he stepped up to the window, his calloused fingertips brushing your hand as he took the small paper cup from you, “Stayin’ safe in here, yeah?”

He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat that gave his skin a dewy glow as his arms flexed beneath the stiff polyester shirt, clearly just done with a workout in his cell. Often you’d catch him doing push-ups when you were being escorted by one of the guards to do your rounds, or doing pull-ups using the metal stairs to the upper cells. The soft grunts that left his lips did nothing to satiate the ache you felt for the man as you’d give him a subtle smile. Looks that didn’t go unnoticed by the hulking man who would often show off in your presence. Increasing his pace, or adding to his weight whenever you were near. The other inmates would catcall and heckle you whenever you were in their wings, calling out to you to show them your panties or come and give them a checkup. But Kirishima was always respectful, watching silently whenever you walked by. You were always told to remember that these were dangerous inmates, not the usual patients that you’d get when you were working at the not-for-profit, but sometimes men like Kirishima made it difficult– you couldn’t imagine him doing the things they wrote about in the papers, he just seemed so nice.

“Always,” You smiled.

It wasn’t unusual for the inmates to try and intimidate you inside the facility, a sick sense of power and dominance gained from the way that meek, sweet women would shrink away from them in fear as they gained a boost to their egos. And you could admit there were many men inside that would make your skin crawl, whether it was the reasons why they were in prison in the first place or the rumours you’d hear circling inside. Kirishima was one of those inmates that should’ve made you scared, the stories most definitely preceding him. His long rap sheet is enough to have him locked away for the rest of his life if it wasn’t for the expensive lawyer his boss Bakugou had hired. But there was something about the redheaded man that had you curious, the normal fear that whirred in the pit of your stomach was rarely there when you spent time with him– in fact, it was quite the opposite. Butterflies fluttered against your ribcage whenever you spoke to the man, almost feeling yourself receding into a cute, blushy schoolgirl.

Kirishima grinned as he raised the medication to his lips as you offered him a cup of water to wash the pills down with but he refused it, grinning as he lay his elbow on the counter to lean forward. Opening his mouth as he stuck his tongue out for you to see the back of his throat, lifting it before slipping it back inside his mouth. You had to fight the heat that rose inside you at the sight as you imagined his tongue against yours, and against other parts of your body. Clenching your thighs together to try and ignore the throb emitting from between them, but it did little to quench the ache. Absentmindedly handing a cup of pills to the next man in line as you watched Kirishima walk away, the prison-issue shirt tight on his frame as he towered over the other men.

You knew that fraternising with inmates was strictly forbidden, not only would you lose your job but it would prevent you from working in the field. But it didn’t hurt to look— his long mane of red hair flowing down his back as his natural colour grew at the roots, an indication of how long he’d been inside. Continuing to hand out medication as you let yourself daydream of Kirishima bending you over this very counter.

You were almost done with the line of inmates waiting to take their scheduled medication when you heard shouts begin to break out throughout the block, the sound of fists banging on metal as you looked to the centre of the room to see Kirishima standing tall, his muscles flexing as his normally shiny ruby red eyes darkened. Blood was running down his face as another man lay on the ground in the foetal position, arms protecting his head as other inmates kicked and punched him. A loud voice boomed over the tannoy, instructing the men back to their cells as guards rushed to the scene to try and break it up. Watching as the inmates all moved to their fronts on the ground as they continued to shout and jeer, another guard came into the small doctors' office to escort you back to the hospital wing as you nodded, giving Kirishima, who was now lying flat on the floor a final look before you followed him out.

It was thirty minutes later when there was a knock at your door, a guard escorting Kirishima into the small medical office as you looked up from the paperwork at your desk. A burly guard escorted Kirishima into the room, his arms bound behind his back as he shouldered through the door, sitting him down on a chair at the side of the room as he connected his cuffs to the back of it so he couldn’t move around. Keeping him in one spot as the guard finally turned to acknowledge you gruffly.

“He’s got an abrasion on his head, reckon you can give him the once over?”

“Uh, sure.” You smiled, filing the paperwork away for confidentiality before you stood from your desk, busying yourself with gathering the supplies that you’d need to treat him.

Situating yourself beside Kirishima as you tried to still your racing heart, now close enough to him that you could smell him. The musky scent of sweat and blood filled your nostrils as you took a closer look at the wound on his head, doing everything in your power not to make eye contact with him, knowing that if you did you’d forget all those years of medical training in an instant and revert back to that blushing schoolgirl.

“Can’t I get a little privacy?” Kirishima gave the guard a look as he stood by the door.

“Ain’t no privacy in prison,” The blond guard scoffed as he crossed his arms.

“Come on man,” Kirishima almost whined, “This is about my medical history.”

“And?” The guard scoffed.

“What if she tells me I got a month left to live?”

“Then I’d be fucking lucky.” The guard scoffed, “One less asshole to worry about.”

“It’s okay,” You smiled, “You can give us a few minutes. He’s cuffed.”

The guard seemed to ponder the decision for a moment before he opened the door, stepping out into the hallway as he told you to call out if you needed anything. You waved a ball of cotton wool at him and nodded as you turned your attention back to Kirishima. The blood that had been spilling from a wound above his eyebrow had stopped flowing, leaving dried blood against his cheek and chin as it darkened and cracked against his skin.

“Thanks,” Kirishima murmured as you soaked the cotton wool bud in rubbing alcohol, “It’s nice to get a few minutes of privacy in here.”

Giving him a kind smile as you leaned forward, gently holding his chin in your hand as you angled his head slightly to get a closer look at the wound. It was a gash through the tattoo that sat above his eyebrow, the word ‘Riot’ in cursive. And with any luck, the damage wouldn’t be deep enough to scar, not that it seemed like this man cared. The marks that covered his body were all evidence of the fights that he’d been in prior to this one, an indication of just how dangerous the man in front of you could be.

“This is gonna hurt,” You spoke softly as you felt his warm breath fan against your face as he let out a soft chuckle.

“I can take it, sweetheart.” But the moment he said that you pressed the bud against the abrasion as Kirishima’s teeth clenched in a sharp hiss, his nose scrunching as you continued to dab at the wound.

“What happened?” You mumbled as you continued to clean the cut, watching it soak the white cotton wool and stain it red as he hunched his shoulders.

“Was nothing.” He mumbled.

You knew often inmates wouldn’t talk to you, often they saw you as another narc. So you were used to men avoiding the question, but you’d hoped that Kirishima would be different. He’d seemed so happy when he left you after taking his medication, and suddenly now he sat in your office after starting a large block fight.

“You got any painkillers?” He asked as you moved to pick up another cotton bud, shooting him a look from the side of your eyes as you tried to gauge whether he was really in that much pain or not, “Think they’re taking me to seg after this, I don’t think I can be comfortable in there without ‘em.”

Often inmates would fake the pain to try and score free medication in the hospital wing instead of having to trade their commissary for it, but you decided his head was probably throbbing and he wouldn’t be able to go to commissary or request them from you if he was being moved into isolation after this. So you picked up two pills as you reached up to give them to him, your fingertips brushing against his lips as you broke protocol and dropped them straight into his mouth, hands lingering as ruby eyes watched you intently. Once again his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed both without water before you’d even had the chance to offer him a glass.

On instinct, his tongue slipped from his lips as he showed you that he’d taken both and he wasn’t hiding them. But this time, having him so close had you struggling to focus. Trying to ignore the heat swiftly rising inside you as you continued working at the wound on his head.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He whispered as you smiled softly. Even in the chair he almost towered over you, his head at your height as you stood between his thighs.

“It’s not deep, so you don’t need stitches.” You plastered it up to ensure the mark wouldn’t split open as you began to clean the dried blood off his cheek, “You bleed a lot though. I don’t remember seeing that on your chart.”

“Yeah, my tattoo artist said that too.” He replied with a grin, watching as you began to fill the paperwork out about his medical visit as he took the opportunity to take in the sight of your curves.

“How many tattoos do you have?” You smiled, slowly filling in each box as Kirishima began to shake his knee.

“A few. If I didn’t have these on I could show you.” You heard him jiggle the cuffs behind him as you laughed, shaking your head.

“They were talkin’ about you.” Kirishima continued, making you pause your writing as you turned to stare at him.

“What?”

“The pricks in rec.” Kirishima continued, “Were saying nasty shit about you.”

“Like what?” You shocked yourself that the words left your lips, the morbid curiosity of wanting to find out what the other inmates thought about you even though it shouldn’t matter.

“Sayin’ how pretty you’d look on your knees, how much they wanna fuck you-”

“Oh,” You weren’t even sure what to say to that, unsurprised that men who had been locked up for long periods would have these thoughts about any woman that they saw, but it still didn’t explain why Kirishima got a blow to the head.

“Knocked that fucker out, he deserved it.” Kirishima scoffed, “He said all that shit, but I’m the one that’s gonna end up in seg. Fuckin’ assholes.”

“Why’d you hit him?” Kirishima gave you an incredulous look, as if to ask ‘are you joking?’

“The shit he was saying about you- pissed me off.” His nostrils flared and you felt your clit throb, he looked so angry, so possessive.

Kirishima knew he shouldn’t be doing this- you were so sweet, so innocent, so pure. It didn’t take much for him to rile you up, and it made him feel powerful. Even more so because he was in a facility designed to strip that power away, to try and strip men back to nothing. But Kirishima still held all the power, even here. Being the right-hand man of one of the most dangerous men in Musutafu had its perks, giving him the extra freedom to get away with things without putting extra time on his count. Some of the guards inside are just as corrupt as the gang he was a part of, allowing him the luxury of continuing his line of work from the inside.

He should’ve just let you be, he’d almost feel guilty for getting you wrapped up in him. But it had been so long since he’d felt his cock nestled deep inside a wet, warm cunt and there was something about you that had him desperate to know how yours felt. There were only so many times that fucking his fist would relieve that itch, and he was almost at his limit.

Kirishima knew he should feel bad for doing this, but he didn’t.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” Kirishima smirked, “I know you want me, sweetheart.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you refused to meet his gaze, but your body responded to his words. Your cunt clenched around nothing as you squeezed your thighs together to try and ignore the sensation, this was completely against protocol and something you’d never done before. Of course, there was a long line of inmates that had tried- almost every single one in fact. Taking away the chance of doing something just made men want to do it even more, so you’d become used to treating men while they sported tents in their prison-issue pants– but Kirishima? He was different.

This time you wanted to.

“We can’t.” You hummed, leaning over to stack some of the items you’d used to patch him up back on the shelf as Kirishima watched your every move.

“Aww come on, sweetheart. Don’t you want me to feel better?” He pouted and you bit your bottom lip, you did.

“I bet you’re dripping in those little panties.” He ignored you completely as he spread his thighs further apart, as though beckoning you closer, “What colour are they?”

“W-what?” You were flustered by the question, remembering the simple pair of cream panties that you’d put on this morning. Appalled at yourself for even debating whether to answer the question as you wished you’d chosen a sexier pair to wear, the ones you had on were far more functional than aesthetics.

“Bet they’re white, huh?” He prodded, fastidiously attempting to get you to answer.

“Cream.” You mumbled, avoiding his eyes as you stared down at the grey linoleum beneath your feet.

“Fuck, I bet they look so pretty on you.” Kirishima continued, shifting his hips slightly on the plastic chair as he tried to relieve the tightness in his pants, “Why don’t you c’mere?”

“I can’t-” You stammered, “The guard might come back any second-”

“Just one kiss,” He teased, with his hands cuffed behind his back, he tried to pull you closer with his body as he hooked an ankle around the backs of your knees, bringing you to settle between his thighs, “Please?”

You gasped from the sudden movement, your hands bracing themselves on his shoulders as you stared into his ruby eyes. Trying to calm your racing heart as you chanced a look towards the door to the office, it wasn’t locked and it meant anyone could walk in and see you in such a precarious position.

“Come on, baby.” His lips were now hovering over yours, mere centimetres and you’d connect them, “I know you want to.”

You worried your lower lip between your teeth as your fingers squeezed at his shoulders, trying to hold on to the last ounce of resolve that you still held inside you. But it was so difficult when he was in such close proximity to you, looking into your soul with those gorgeous eyes as you felt yourself moving closer to him. It was as though you were no longer in control of your body as your eyes darted down to his lips, his tongue peeking out to wet them as he tilted his head to the side, finally closing the distance as your lips met his in a soft kiss. You hummed gently when you felt his calloused lips touched yours, feeling them curl into a smile as he deepened the kiss. His tongue pushed past your parted lips to delve deeper as he brushed against your teeth, capturing your moans in his mouth as your hands tightened their grip on his shoulders.

“You got no idea how long I’ve been thinking about doing that with you, sweetheart.” He whispered against your lips as you broke for air.

“You have?”

Fuck, you really were so cute. You sounded so hopeful, so eager as you asked for the subtle affirmation. Kirishima couldn’t wait to ruin you-

“Of course I have, baby. Have you seen yourself?” He pressed his lips to yours in another sloppy kiss, “You’re so beautiful.”

You felt giddy as his thighs moved closer on either side of yours, squeezing them gently as he couldn’t wrap his arms around you, tilting his head back as if to invite you closer. The movement allowed you to see the intricate tattoo that covered his collarbone and followed beneath his shirt. You’d seen it before when he’d been working out shirtless in the rec area, a huge dragon that spanned from his pectoral all the way into a colourful arm sleeve. The beautiful ink marred with a gunshot wound where he’d narrowly avoided death, another indication of just how much danger you were potentially in.

“Sit on my lap.”

You’d consider yourself to be such a strong, independent woman- you had to be to survive in a job like this, but Kirishima had you questioning everything as you bit your lip. Suddenly feeling so shy as you debated whether to move closer or not.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Kirishima pouted, “For me?”

“Fuck,” He rasped as you straddled him, your dress riding up as you pressed your crotch against his. Giving him the perfect view of the tops of your stockings as you tried to hover yourself on top of him to avoid brushing yourself against his cock that was currently straining through the scratchy material of his prison-issue pants as it rubbed against your bare thighs, “You feel so fucking warm.”

Even with his hands restrained he still tried to maintain control of the situation, his hips thrusting up to make you lose your balance as you were forced down onto his crotch so you could feel his hard cock against your clothed slit. Making sweet moans tumble from your throat as his tongue swiped against your lips, eagerly pushing his way inside as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands moved to the back of his head as you let your fingers comb through his long hair. Fingernails scratching at his scalp as you began to match his movements, grinding yourself down on his crotch as he groaned beneath you as you let yourself fall into him.

“Wish I could touch you, princess” Kirishima moaned against your lips, “Wanna play with those pretty tits.”

His words had you tugging his hair at the root, making him groan as you pulled yourself away from him. His lips moved forward eagerly to press wet, warm kisses against your neck.

“Can I see them, please?” He asked softly as his nose nuzzled the soft skin at the apex of your neck.

Kirishima was a monster for corrupting someone so adorable, so innocent. But it wasn’t his fault- there was no reason why a girl as sweet as you should be working in a scummy facility like this. It was like putting you on a shelf for any sick fuck to come and ruin you- but lucky for you he’d got there first. Oh, he’d still ruin you alright, but at least there was a chance you’d enjoy it now.

“What if-” You began to contend, but Kirishima was quick to cut you off.

“They won’t come in for at least another fifteen unless you make noise.” He murmured, “And I can help you keep quiet, sweetheart.”

You leaned back on his lap as you began to unbutton the top few buttons of the standard dress that you wore, exposing the plain white bra that you wore below. Every piece of clothing was to regulation, wishing you had a sexy piece of lingerie on for him to see. But Kirishima didn’t seem to mind, the sight of your plain, white bra had his cock throbbing in his pants as your breasts fit perfectly inside. Leaning forward as you pulled the fabric down, letting your tits spill from the cups as Kirishima watched them bounce slightly, your nipples hardening into peaks in the cool air of the nurses' office. A deep, guttural groan sounded from deep in his chest as he committed the sight to memory, craning his neck forward to capture one of your pert nipples between his lips.

“Shit,” You whined, grasping his shoulders to stop yourself from falling backwards as his tongue circled the bud, cheeks hollowed as he sucked harshly. Certain he could make you cum from this alone as you kept grinding yourself on his lap, the desire continuing to build inside you as you were desperate to get off. Your hands became bolder as you moved them to the back of his neck, pushing him deeper as you began to imagine how his lips would feel on other parts of your body.

“I was right, they are fucking perfect.” He pulled away from your nipple with a ‘pop’ as he looked at the surface glistening in his spit as he moved to the other one to give it the same attention, “You’re perfect.”

You were hanging on to his every word, pleasure running through your veins as you forgot about the repercussions if you got caught, focusing only on the pleasure he was giving you. Continuing to roll your hips against his as you felt the hardness of his cock catch against your puffy clit, creating delicious friction as you used him to get yourself off.

“You feel so warm,” Kirishima groaned, jerking his hips so you could feel him push his cock against you, “Gotta help me, sweetheart, yeah?”

“Yeah?” Your mind was hazy from pleasure as you gazed at him through lidded eyes.

“Pull my pants down for me?” Kirishima wriggled his hips for emphasis as he moved back as much as he could to give you room.

Your fingers lifted the hem of his prison-issue shirt as you felt the soft black hair of his happy trail as it disappeared beneath his pants. Your fingers delicately hooked under the elastic waistband as you began to tug at the material, Kirishima lifting his hips from the chair to give you the freedom to tug his pants and underwear down just enough to free his aching cock. You gasped in surprise when you saw it for the first time, the way it flopped against his thigh a sheer indication of the weight of it as the bulging tip oozed pre. You weren’t sure you would be able to wrap your hand around it fully, never mind fit it inside you. The veins that forked along the underside only served to make him look even bigger as you wondered whether you’d get past the tip. His balls hung below, round and full with his cum as you subconsciously licked your lips at the thought of him filling you with cum.

“You think you can take me, babe?” Kirishima asked smugly, already knowing the answer. Most women struggled to take his size, and perhaps you were no different.

“Yeah,” You shot back swiftly, trying to sound confident but the doubtful look in your eyes betrayed you.

“Good girl,” He grinned, “Now take those panties off for me.”

You’d almost forgotten that you were still almost fully clothed, standing up from his lap for a moment to slip your hands beneath the standard-issue dress as the fabric slipped up around your hips, giving Kirishima a view of your cream panties as he watched intently.

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned at the sight, noticing the large wet patch that stained the crotch as you tugged at the hem, pushing them down your thighs until they fell to the ground at your knees, stepping one foot out of them as you moved to get back on his lap.

“Hold on, sweetheart, hold on.” Kirishima spoke quickly, stopping you from sitting on top of him, “Spread yourself open for me, please? I wanna see-”

You felt embarrassed at the request, but somehow your hands betrayed you as you looked at the sweet look on his face.

“Put your foot here- that’s it-” Kirishima instructed you, uncaring that you’d put your heeled pump on his thigh as you moved your hand between your thighs. Your palm pressed against your mound as your fingers split into a v-shape, strings of your slick glistening as you spread yourself for him, giving him the perfect view of your bare cunt.

“Fucking hell,” He groaned, throwing his head back, “You have the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen, sweetheart. I wanna be inside you right now.”

“Oh,” You mumbled, “I don’t have condoms-”

Condoms were considered contraband in the facility, there was no need for you to be handing them out as inmates shouldn’t be fraternising, and neither should staff. Thinking that this was it between you and the attractive inmate you moved your foot from his thigh as your dress fell back around your knees.

“It’s okay, baby. It’ll be fine,” Kirishima cooed, “I’ll tell you when I’m about to cum, okay?”

You bit your lip as you debated what to do, you knew the pull-out method wasn’t always effective, but you trusted him.

“Okay,” You moved back onto his lap as Kirishima smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as you leaned down to wrap your hand around his thick cock, feeling the weight of it as you held it upright.

Easing your hips forward as you brushed the leaking tip between your messy folds, coating him with your slick as his pre mingled with your wetness. Kirishima hissed sharply from behind his teeth at the feeling of your hand around his cock, feeling you line him up with your tight entrance as he saw the uneasy look on your face.

“I’m sorry I can’t prep you like this,” His wrists jiggled the chains for emphasis, “Just stop me if it hurts, alright?”

He shouldn’t have said it, Kirishima knew there was no way he was going to fucking stop. Especially when there was such little time left- he just wanted to feel that tight little cunt wrapped around his cock.

He didn’t stop, he couldn’t. But it’s not like you were asking him to stop either, your cunt was practically dripping down his length, pooling around his balls.

You let out a lewd groan as you began to lower yourself on his cock, the noise catching Kirishima off guard as he began to shush you, his eyes instantly focused on the unlocked door in case the guard outside heard anything.

“Shhh, come on, babe. Do you want him to come in and see what a slut you are?” Kirishima hissed, brows furrowed as you bit down on your bottom lip hard to try and stop yourself from making noise. Tears clinging to your lashes as you tried desperately to hold back the tears, but every inch felt like your walls were burning.

“It hurts, Kiri.” You whined, trying to blink back tears as your walls burned from the stretch.

“I know, baby. I know- but you’re doin’ so good, almost there-” You weren’t, Kirishima could see not even a third of his cock had disappeared inside your cunt as he feigned sympathy. You were so wet and warm he wasn’t even sure he could last- the tightness hugging him enough to have him cumming like this. But he hadn’t worked you for weeks to get a third deep, no. He wanted all of you.

Kirishima couldn’t lie, he felt guilty when he rut his hips up into you, he did. The whimper you made when he felt you take more of him sent shameful jolts directly to his cock as he whispered for you to bite down on his shoulder to keep quiet. You complied so easily, teeth latching onto his shoulder through the starchy fabric as he felt your spit begin to slick the material. Or it could’ve been your tears- but at that moment he didn’t care.

Giving another sharp thrust of his hips as he fucked himself deeper inside your tender pussy, feeling your walls flutter around him as he began to feel the resistance start to dissipate.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, so tight.” He groaned, “Doin’ so good for me.”

The stretch was unreal, unlike anything you’d ever felt before. None of your previous partners had been this well endowed, and even your largest dildo couldn’t contend with his size.

“Fuck, give me a second, sweetheart.” Kirishima continued, “S’been a long, long time.”

You were grateful because you weren’t sure you could take it if he had just started moving. Pulling your teeth away from his shoulder to take a deep breath, holding the air in your lungs as you felt Kirishima begin to move his hips.

“Oh, shit.” You gasped as you felt the tip of his cock hit the deepest depths inside of you, certain it was nudging your cervix as he began to start a sloppy pace.

“You feel so good,” Kirishima grunted, beads of sweat beginning to appear on his brow as he positioned his feet flat on the ground as he leaned back against the chair, using the position for leverage as he began to piston himself in and out of your tight cunt.

Your nails dug into his back through his shirt as you clung to him to prevent yourself from falling backwards, your tits bouncing from the force of his thrusts as he pounded into you. His cock dragged against every inch of you with each rut of his hips as your mouth fell open in a constant whine.

“So noisy.” Kirishima teased, “My cock feel that good?”

“Y-yeah,” You managed to get out between breaths, certain the sound of his balls slapping against your skin was louder than you were but you were in no position to argue.

Kirishima continued to lead from the bottom as he used your body as his own personal cocksleeve, completely focused on his own pleasure as he felt his balls begin to tighten.

“Not so loud, sweetheart.” He whispered gruffly, “Don’t wanna get caught, do you?”

You didn’t, there was too much at stake if anyone was to come in and see you in this position, but the thought of it happening had your walls clenching around Kirishima’s cock. The image of someone, anyone coming in and seeing you in such a depraved position sending you closer to your release.

Kirishima continued pounding into you from below, a sheer display of his strength that each thrust had you almost completely off his length before gravity had you dropping back down, struggling to keep your thighs on the chair as you moved your feet to hook over Kirishima’s thighs by his knees.

“Fuck, that’s it.” He growled, “Take it.”

“Oh my god.” You gasped, your walls trembled at his words as you felt yourself slipping closer and closer to your bliss.

“Fucking take it.” He snarled, tears spilling down your cheeks as you felt yourself teetering on the edge. Leaning forward to latch your teeth onto his shoulder again to silence yourself as you screamed, the noise muffled by the rough fabric as the coil broke inside you. Crying out as you felt yourself succumb to the pleasure, your orgasm surging through you in harsh waves.

“Good girl,” Kirishima grunted, your walls milking his cock as he fucked you through your climax, your cunt even tighter, even wetter now that you’d found your release.

He continued his rough pace, selfishly searching for his own ecstasy as he felt himself closer and closer to his end.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect.” Kirishima moaned, your pussy clamping down around him, “Gonna fuckin’ cum inside this slutty pussy.”

“Wait-” You gasped, trying to lift yourself with tired arms to look into his eyes but it was too late.

Kirishima knew it was an asshole move, that he’d promised you that he’d pull out, but your cunt just felt so good wrapped around his cock. And truthfully? He’d never had any intention of pulling out- the thought of filling your cute, little pussy with his cum was too good an opportunity to pass up.

“Oh, fuck.” A guttural moan left Kirishima’s lips as his balls tightened, pumping hot ropes of cum inside your quivering cunt. Painting your walls white with his release as he gave a few more sloppy thrusts inside your warmth before he stilled on the uncomfortable plastic chair.

His chest heaving as he basked in the afterglow of his release, cherishing the final few pulsations from your spent cunt before you moved your hands to his shoulders to pull yourself off his spent cock, grimacing when his cum dripped from your stretched walls and onto the linoleum floor.

“You were fucking amazing, sweetheart.” Kirishima grinned as you glanced towards the clock in panic, moving to pull his pants back up around his ass as you huffed in frustration as he made it hard for you by barely moving his hips, “I knew that pussy would be good, and I wasn’t wrong.”

“He’s gonna come back in at any minute,” You mumbled, moving to pull your panties back up as Kirishima stopped you.

“Put them in my pocket” He flicked his chin, indicating towards the cream panties that were now around your ankles.

“I can’t,” You gasped.

“Come on, please?” Kirishima gave you that same puppy dog look and it had you falling even deeper under his spell.

“What if you get caught?” You asked the question as though you weren’t already taking them off from around your ankles and slipping them into his pants pocket.

“I won’t, promise.” He stole a kiss from you as you hovered over him, “Having these will get me through seg.”

He wished he hadn’t lied about being sent to isolation, in hindsight he probably didn’t even have to. He would’ve managed to get inside your panties without the little white lie, but either way, it had worked. He leaned forward to steal one more kiss from you before you began to smooth your dress out, almost forgetting about his cum that was now dripping down your inner thigh uncomfortably and hitting the floor.

“Oh, shit,” You moved to grab a paper towel before the sound of the door opening stopped you, keeping you frozen in your tracks as you watched the guard walk in without warning.

“What? No knock first?” Kirishima snarked as the guard stepped into your office, praying that he couldn’t feel the warmth in the air or the stench of sex and sweat as he moved towards his prisoner.

“Keep telling you assholes, this is fuckin’ prison. You don’t get shit.” The guard shook his head, keys jingling in his hands as he moved to the back of the chair to unlock Kirishima’s cuffs from the chain at the back so he could stand, his hands still bound as you tried to stand in front of the mess you’d made on the cold floor, praying that the guard hadn’t noticed.

“Is he ready to go back to gen pop?” The guard turned to ask you, and you felt your heart pounding against your chest.

“Y-yeah,” You mumbled, hoping the guard wouldn’t come around your table to see the mess the inmate had made of you. Kirishima did you a favour as he walked around the table and towards the guard as he was marched out of the room.

“Thanks, nurse.” He gave you a cocky smile as he left, “I feel much better.”

Kirishima followed the guard back to the general population as he stopped by the main door, waiting for the guard to unlock the cuffs as he was finally able to move his arms back to his front. Smiling smugly as he noticed the deep red marks around his wrists from where the cuffs had rubbed from his frantic movements. Making a beeline for the phones as he tapped another inmate on the shoulder, the man instantly turned around with a fist up before realising his mistake. Seeing Kirishima behind him as he instantly hung up the phone, apologising before walking away.

Kirishima picked the phone up as he smashed the keys, dialling a number as he leaned a shoulder against the wall as the phone rang. An angry voice sounded from the other side.

“What fuckin’ time do ya call this, Kiri?”

“Hey, I’m sorry man. I was a little preoccupied.” Kirishima schmoozed, a grin on his face at the memory, his cock still covered in your slick and your panties secure in his pocket.

“Yeah, well the drop is ready to go. We’re just trying to sort someone to do pick-ups.” Bakugou grunted on the other side of the phone, “The last guy was a fuckin’ pussy.”

“You know what, man. I think I might have someone-”

“Someone on the inside?” Bakugou pushed.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Do you think he’ll do it? I can get Sero to meet him before he comes in-”

“Oh yeah, she’ll do it.” Kirishima grinned, “I know she will.”

#Kirishima x reader #Eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #Eijirou kirishima smut #Bnha x reader #Bnha smut #mha x reader #mha smut #tw:dubcon #trigger:dubcon #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou smut

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tadpolesonalgae · 10 months

Text

High Lord!Eris x reader: Servitude[***]

A/N: I’m very split on this fic since I love monsterfucking but I crave dialogue

Summary: The night Beron dies and Eris inherits the Autumn Court throne, he goes a little mad from the sudden surge of power, and needs to work his frustrations out - kind of like Calanmai - and who better than you? You practically stumble straight into his lap

Warnings: reader having a CNC/rape kink?, monsterfucking, exhibitionism, dubcon in parts, it’s not breeding kink but there’s definitely something

You’ve been fantasising for too long, and your scent has shifted.

You sigh, heavily, feeling the familiar heat of arousal lick between your thighs. This was an utterly inopportune moment, couldn’t you have waited at least until you were in the privacy of your own home? Not out in the middle of the woods, and especially not on the court-wide day of mourning—tradition for when a monarch passed.

The news had spread like wildfire through summer-crisped leaves, ravishing the city until there wasn’t a single soul that didn’t know. Now all that was left to see, would be who the power would come to, who would inherit the throne out of Beron’s sons.

Heat is still thrumming beneath your skin, but it’s less prominent. You might get away with sneaking back into the city without someone catching your scent, and cornering you. Maybe hauling you into a side alley, and pushing your clothes away, shoving you against a wall - or maybe they’d bend you over - tearing your underwear from your wet heat—

Shit.

Maybe it would be a better idea to finish yourself off out here, in the woods, where someone’s less likely to find you. Especially at this hour. Your teeth find your lower lip, tugging it with indecision.

Eventually you begin quietly moving deeper into the forest, where the trees were thicker, shrubbery taller and more dense, vines stringing from the branches like limp chains. Everything seems so…erotic. From the mushrooms lining the forest floor, to every root large enough for someone to bend you over.

You swallow, undoing the ties of your cloak, too hot to keep your clothes on, folding it over your arm. If you’re going to do this, you’ll damn well enjoy yourself. You locate a nice little clearing, spotting a tree that looks comfortable enough to perch upon. It’s massive, and you wonder for a moment how many centuries it’s seen—if it’s older than your own people.

Pushing the thoughts aside, you begin stripping off your dress, peeling away layer after layer until you’re utterly bare to the night breeze. You imagine every soft gust of wind is a gentle caress from the elements, touching your skin greedily, wrapping you up. You shiver with delight, the heightened sensitivity of your body as you wrap your cloak over your shoulders—a barrier between your naked heat and the dirt coating the large root you’ve selected.

With a shaky breath, you lean back against the trunk, parting your legs a little, then—to hell with it. You straddle the root, the thick maroon fabric the only thing between your heat and the bark. Slowly, so slowly, you begin winding your hips, eyes rolling as your clit presses into the material.

This is so wrong, and it sends frenetic zaps of energy straight between your spread thighs. Fuck, it feels good.

Your lips part as your slick begins coating your cloak, enabling your hips to glide back and forth as you slowly hump the tree, as if you’re grinding against it’s leg. Like a bitch in heat. Your eyelids flutter, nipples peaking as you cup one of your breasts, fingertips dancing over the sensitive skin as you continue winding your hips. Faster, and faster.

Your body is beginning to move on its own, following an innate rhythm your arousal taps into. Back and forth, back and forth, clit gliding smoothly over your slick cloak, the texture of the bark delicious beneath you.

A breeze lifts, carrying your scent with it, cooling your skin as heat builds in your lower belly.

A twig snaps and you freeze, back curving as you peer through the dark clearing.

There’s nothing to be seen…but you can feel it.

The starving weight of hungry eyes.

You can feel them devouring your body, fucking you senseless in the perceiver’s mind.

Isn’t this just what you wanted? To be seen? For someone to watch as you indulge in pleasure? How many times had you fantasised about that delicious weight of a lustful gaze when you’d left your curtains a little too wide, or when you’d moaned after not fully closing the windows? Now someone is watching, and you dare stop the show?

That won’t do at all.

If they had come to kill you, you’d surely be dead. So they must be here for the performance. And who are you to withhold it?

————

The power thrummed beneath his skin, thundering through his body as it ravaged his mind, ripping sense from it’s firmly seated place.

One moment, he’d been calming himself with a midnight stroll through the apple orchards, too tense to sleep, and the next, this power had come crashing down onto him, riding his rationality until it was whipped into submission, yielding to that greater sense.

He’d know what it was the moment it happened, and while he was pleased that it had been passed to him, dread had coiled in his stomach at the pure strength that was now his to control. Eris knew the transformation would be coming any second, and he couldn’t afford to be anywhere near the Court Palace when it happened. Using the limited control he had on his magic, he winnowed deep into the forests surrounding the citadel.

And then he had yielded.

His nails became hooked, growing and sharpening into deadly blades. Canines protrudes from his upper lip, lethal enough to slice with the softest brush. His skin hardened until it was ensconced in scales, rippling with the growth of corded muscle.

Eris no longer moved on his two feet, but four, triple-pronged paws. A mighty tail snicker-snacked behind him as he silently slithered through the undergrowth. Hunting.

He needs to hunt, needs to chase something. Become the predator that has taken over him entirely. Satiate its needs before he can return to his Fae form.

He knows he could become larger, could grow big enough to trample the lush forest that has served his court for years, and that is now his to control, but he manages to keep the power contained. Despite how wildly the magic thrashes and writhes to be set lose.

Almost as if the Mother is urging him on, he catches a scent in the wind. A mouth-watering, dizzyingly appetising scent. So inherently feminine as it wafts to him on the breeze. A growl he doesn’t recognise drags from his throat as he begins tracking it, needing to sink his teeth into whatever it is.

Eris keeps close to the ground as he silently bounds through the dense shrubbery, mighty paws carrying him with lethal quiet. Closer and closer, until he can practically taste that sweet, sweet scent on his rough tongue.

There you are.

The beast inside him hushes, settling into a low crouch, ready to pounce at any second.

For a moment, he’s back in control, watching. And that’s all he does. Watches as you peer around the clearing, trying connect that other presence you feel to a pair of eyes, but you can’t find him. But you know he’s there.

He doesn’t question why you’re out here, or what the hell you’re doing stripped bare in the middle of the forest in the dead of night. All that matters is you’re there, ripe for the taking.

Your hips begin winding over your thick cloak, and he nearly growls with hunger. The sweet scent is coming from you, arousal making him drool as he contemplates how he wants to take you. He doesn’t feel like drawing it out. He wants it now.

And he can tell you’re already close.

————

Bushes rustle, but you continue moving, spurred on by the sounds.

Your eyes slide shut, revelling in the pleasure, the heat that’s coiling in your belly. A little longer and you’ll be there. You’ll come undone before that strange set of unknown eyes.

A growl pulls you from your fervour, and you freeze.

An awe-full, terrifyingly great creature prowls forward, long, hooked claws glinting in the moonlight. It’s eyes are slitted, reptilian features crowned by a halo of straight, pointed tusks. The eldritch animal stalks forward slowly, moving with languid grace toward you, and you can see the muscles rippling beneath the tough, scaled skin.

No. It’s not an animal. There’s nothing remotely normal about this creature.

Arousal slams into you.

One look into it’s slash of pupil and you can sense the beastly Fae power thrumming beneath its armoured surface. He’s been transformed.

The beast prowls closer, and you keep utterly still, nipples peaking in the cool night air. A low growl rumbles through the clearing, and you can swear you see its chest vibrate. There’s a sinister gleam in its eye that has something primal in you begging you to bow. To run, or scream.

He snarls, stopping just outside of your reach, leaving you within his.

Maybe he wants you to stop. Maybe he’s the guardian of this forest and is preparing to rip you apart for performing such a sacrilegious act.

Swallowing, trembling, you shift, moving one leg over the root, so you’re practically side-saddle. You aren’t foolish enough to turn your back on the magnificent beast.

“I’m sorry…” you stammer quietly, fear tracing up your spine. His nostrils flare, and he purrs. As if he enjoys your terror. “I didn’t mean any harm…” you beg, softly, nails digging into the material of your palm.

His slitted eyes take you in, peering at your elevated position on the root. His nostrils flare again, and the delicious scent of your fear and arousal twine together, and he needs.

Your breath catches as he noses roughly at your belly, shoving between your thighs, tongue pushing out. Your eyes roll as the Fae creature begins lapping at you, the rough, slick muscle rolling over your clit, and your hips buck. Keep still. The beast seems to command with his eyes, making certain he won’t have to hunt you down now that he’s found you.

A whimper spills from your lips with the forcefulness of his licking, and you nearly topple backward. His head dips, bringing the tusks closer to you, and you grip on desperately. The beast’s head tips back up, and you’re pulled forward, so you’re toppling forward onto the column of his snout.

The Fae bucks his head, hoisting you higher, your thighs spread over the lower bridge of his nose, breasts pressing to the space between his eyes as his tongue fucks into you. A startled moan bursts from your lips as your clit glides across the scales ensconcing his powerful form. Your back curves, allowing him deeper as the hot, rough muscle drives within your sex.

The pleasure crests over you, and you cry, delighting in the delicious sensations being gifted to you. Your hips wind, desperate to ride out the orgasm, and it’s as if his tongue spasms, sending those eye-rolling vibrations to your wet heat.

Panting fills the clearing, along with that deep, beastly purr. He seems satisfied with himself. Until he tilts his head downward, and you slide off his slicked scales onto the ground. You wince with the drop, landing on your ass, before you’re peering up at him.

He prowls closer, until he’s over you, and you’re having to crane your neck to see him. But your eyes catch between his hind paws, and your breath catches. You whimper at the sight of it: he’s hard, his cock widening a little beneath his tip, a pearly bead of come nestled in his slit.

He’s big. Far too big for you.

Fear coils within you as you shift onto your hands and knees, attempting to frantically crawl out from under him, but he pursues with a deep growl. It’s a warning you realise, through whatever unearthly magic he possesses that allows him to make such a drastic transformation.

It’s a warning you don’t heed, too occupied with attempting to escape.

One large paw crushes down into your shoulder, though the pressure lessens when you whine. Instead it shifts to the base of your neck, talons hooking smoothly over your shoulders as if they were fashioned around your bones. You whimper, wriggling desperately as his tail twines around your hips, keeping your ass in the air.

“Please…” you beg, using all your fae strength to push against the creature that will surely wreck you. “Let me go…”

His grip tightens, and it’s then you notice his paws have shifted. Instead of having them end in triple-pronged talons, it’s now five fingers. They’re still much too eldritch to be fully fae, but… You crane your neck to try and get a look at the monster, but it’s difficult. All you can make out is the corded muscle of his arm—not paw.

You whine when his tip presses against your entrance, and you can practically feel that pearly bead of come mix with your own release as he slicks himself up. His tail constricts, pulling your hips back to him, and he pushes in. Your mouth drops open in a silent moan as he fills you up. Big, but not unmanageable—definitely a stretch.

A hiss rips from between your teeth when he moves to draw back, and it stings. You need longer to adjust, you can’t go as you are. He’ll tear you to pieces.

Eris senses your hesitance, the too-tightness of your cunt. He growls impatiently. He’d already prepared you, now he needs you to come to that perfect state of ripeness. He can’t set himself lose until you’re there, ready for him.

The tip of his tail rolls over your clit—it’s the most he can manage in this new body of his, how little control he has over its fine details. His tongue lolls out, and he licks along your neck, purring at the flavour, tasting your arousal.

Heat is already blooming in your lower belly when he begins moving. And when he draws his hips back, to press back in, your back arches with pleasure. This time, when you wriggle against him, you need him deeper, need him to be filling you up, and spilling into you until he’s dripping down your stomach.

It’s like he can sense your desires, as if his senses are so powerful they reveal everything to him. His hips draw back, and he slams into you. If his tail hadn’t been holding you in place, you would have surely been knocked forward. You moan, a deep, needy sound that he replies to in his chest, the noise vibrating against your back.

He picks up the pace, already beginning to pound into you, and it’s as if he wants to you scream, like he needs to hear what he’s doing to you. His hips roll, and the swell of his cock rubs against that sensitive spot inside of you, and you can’t help it.

The short scream tears from your lips, making him snarl in delight, gripping you firmer as he continues assaulting your senses. Your back curves, and you begin to match his pace, pushing back against him.

That white-hot coil tightens in your belly, and your vision blurs.

Eris’ taloned hand leaves your nape, hooking beneath your shoulders as he lifts you upward, your back flush against his warm chest. A shiver runs over you at the mind-numbing contrast: the heat of his chest to the cool whips of midnight air along your front. The rough pads of his fingers dance over your chest, and the tears spill, drip-dropping straight to the earth beneath you.

He grazes your nipples and you think you might fracture beneath the pleasure he’s subjecting you to, how his cock keeps abusing that one spot over and over and over. His tail rubbing over your clit while his fingers warm your breasts.

There’s nothing you can do to prevent it as the pleasure against crests, more powerful than last time. Your whole body trembles as your muscles seize and spasm, cunt fluttering around him wildly as you lose yourself in the frenzied washes of euphoria.

Eris feels your delight, feminine satisfaction tinting your scent as you come, and he feels himself release.

You moan sharply, suddenly, feeling as his come shoots into you, cock spilling precious pleasure inside your wet heat. You can feel it, feel the light pressure in your lower abdomen as he fills you up, so thoroughly that he’s dripping down your stomach before he’s finished.

He gives you so much.

You’re panting, breathless, feeling like you’ll never need again if you have him. So deliciously male.

Above you, he sighs heavily. The strain has lessened, and he feels himself beginning to revert back into his old self. His arm remains hooked beneath your chest, but his tail releases you, shrinking away as scales melt into skin, tusks transforming to long, silky locks of hair that cascade over your shoulders, tickling you slightly.

You gasp, indulging in the soft press of his skin, hand gripping his wrist, wanting to keep touching him. His hips draw back, and you whine from how empty you feel, but you manage to shift onto your back, taking in the male who just ravished you.

He’s beautiful. Magnificent grace radiating from him, and you know you wouldn’t be able to escape him if you wanted to.

He’s tired, eyes half lidded from the effort of keeping the sudden surge of power contained, but he’s managed. And it’s his now.

Fire blazes in his gaze as he takes his female in—you. He can feel the warmth from your skin, hand cupping your jaw, talons shrinking to elegant nails. You tip your head, and he takes you, mouth slanting over your own as he carefully pries your lips apart.

You moan, arms snaking over his shoulders, legs wrapping around his hips as you kiss him fervently. Your eyes slide shut, allowing him inside, wet heat lapping against your tongue and you grip him tightly.

You won’t let him escape either.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020

#Eris #eris smut #autumn court #High Lord #High Lord smut #Eris x reader smut #Eris vanserra

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wntrs0ldier · 11 months

Text

An Offer · part 06

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 4,1k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.)

<previous part | series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

chapter sneak peek: You turned your head in that direction. Seeing him, you felt a knot in your stomach, and your heart in your mouth. A strong shudder ran through your body, sending that familiar electricity right to your fingertips. By avoiding him for so long, you had built a wall that was supposed to make you immune to the feelings he evoked in you. But all it took was one look to tear it down.

As Bucky was coming towards you, you considered running away, but your body – craving his attention, longing for his presence – stuck in place, refusing to obey you.

A single buzz of the phone distracted you from the document you were reading through. Thrown out of the work rhythm that had been driving you for the past few hours, you instinctively ran your eyes over the desk, pretty much buried in papers, meanwhile figuring out that the phone was hidden somewhere underneath. So you started collecting all the documents, putting them in neat piles to eventually find it.

It felt good to be working like that again. Finally, after a few weeks since your father's death, filled with overwhelming responsibilities and things a little too heavy for your shoulders, your mind was in the right place; stable enough to catch up on paperwork.

You grabbed your phone and tapped the screen to check the latest notification, expecting a message from Suzie reminding you to buy her promised snacks on the way home. But it wasn’t your sister. You froze when the sender of the text turned out to be Bucky.

You still have my sweatshirt. I want it back.

You hoped he had let go after weeks of being ignored. Right at the start – on the very evening John showed up at your house – you wrote Bucky a succinct message saying that you couldn't see each other anymore. This was to be the definitive end; you didn't reply to his texts, didn't answer his calls. You realized that otherwise you would be drawn to him again, therefore throwing away your only chance for a marriage.

The phone in your hands buzzed again.

I don’t want it back. I want to see you.

An unpleasant warmth went through your body. You put the phone back on the desk, then stood up; mostly to stretch your bones, stiff from sitting, partly to fight the urge to speak to him. With the phone still in your hands, you could have undone the hard work of recent weeks – weaning yourself from the presence of the one person who had always been on your side.

You walked up to the window where, just a while ago, you were thinking about your life, your past; about who Bucky actually was to you, and why your paths never crossed. But they finally did – at the moment when you most needed guidance, understanding, a friend. And now you missed him. You missed Bucky endlessly since the last time you saw each other. You missed him the way you missed the first rays of bright, warm sunshine after a harsh winter; the way you missed the cool, refreshing rain during a stuffy summer; the way you missed a favorite flavor that you never recreated again; the way you missed the childhood years of innocent carefreeness. Because he was just that to you – some lost, longed-for sensation that was beyond your reach.

And all this for what? A successful marriage to John? A peaceful, secure future?

In fact, everything seemed perfect. John was good to you – he didn't drop distasteful hints, didn't ogle you, didn't put any pressure. He regularly took you to one fancy restaurant after another, and kept trying to find out as much as he could about you. He even turned up at the exhibition in your gallery. From the outside it seemed like he was there to support you, to keep you company. However, the truth was that John was controlling you; just as Michael said. What's more, he lavished you with gifts, usually expensive jewellery that was rarely to your taste. You weren't ungrateful, but you got the impression that John was only giving you what he himself wanted to see on you, not what actually suited you.

But there was something that worried Michael in particular. John had expressed a willingness to make a deal, in addition it looked like he was courting you full steam ahead, but he hadn't asked you to marry him yet. So, at any time, he could have simply backed out, leaving you in the lurch – he had you in the palm of his hand and was taking advantage of this by testing your loyalty and, somehow, obedience. Knowing that any contact with Bucky would cost you dearly, you couldn't afford even a moment's weakness.

Hearing a quiet knock on the door of your office, you felt another wave of that unpleasant warmth. You looked back hesitantly and were instantly relieved seeing the familiar face of your friend, Connie.

“Are you okay?” She furrowed. “You look… bad.”

You smiled, as if that would dissuade your friend from worrying. “Just a little tired.” You stretched sleepily to emphasize your words.

“No wonder. You've been working a lot lately,” Connie pointed out, sitting down on a chair in front of her desk. “You're hard to get to.” She raised her eyebrows, tilting her head to the side as if she had just caught you at something. Connie was one of your closest friends, and although she wasn't directly connected to your world – unless it was through you – you mentioned your problem to her; one that had been dragging on since your father's funeral.

“And how's your new job?” To distract Connie, you slightly changed the subject. You walked over to the desk and took a seat too.

“It is not that bad. If I get promoted from making coffee and washing cups to actual finances. But it's only an internship, so I might as well keep making coffee until the end.” She rolled her eyes and your smile widened; perhaps Connie was complaining about her duties and you sympathized that she had to do something she didn't like, but it was nice to hear about such mundane problems. You would have liked to be making coffee for bankers and financiers instead of having to marry to save your family from ruin. “Actually…” she began innocently. “I just have one tiny favor to ask you. I swear I came mostly to see if you were okay, but-”

“I know, Connie,” you interrupted. “What’s the favor?”

“Go out with me this weekend. Have some fun, stop thinking about work and… you know, the other thing.”

Turning down such proposals was not in your habit. Moreover, suffocated by visits to expensive, uptight restaurants, which left you hungry and a little bored, you missed this kind of entertainment. Besides, lately you've only been hanging around older men, who always had a full range of golden advice and ideal offers for you. You craved loud music, dancing among strangers and, above all, alcohol – it didn't have to be expensive, the kind John would provide; you just wanted it to take the weight off your thoughts, at least for a while. You needed a break.

“Okay,” you said after a moment of reflection.

Connie's face lit up with a bright, excited grin. “Okay?” she made sure, and when you nodded in surrender, she reached over the desk, put her hands around your cheeks and placed a big kiss on your forehead, and you – put in a light, somewhat carefree mood by your friend – laughed. You both did.

The weekend arrived much slower as you waited for the fun you craved. You had completely absorbed the idea that you would be spending Saturday night at some club, and there was nothing to stop you doing so. Not even John. As you sat in Connie's flat, in your robe, sipping a margarita, waiting for the polish on your nails to dry, he called you with a proposition for another date.

“Johnny…” Despite the heavy sigh that left your lips, you tried to make your voice sound as sweet as possible; even if you wanted to set any boundaries, John had the upper hand, so you couldn't behave audaciously – you couldn't be cold and assertive, you had to wrap him around your finger. “I can't see you. I would love to, but I've been neglecting my girlfriends lately. I need to spend some time with them.”

“But in a club?” he reluctantly repeated the information you gave him at the very beginning. “Maybe I could go with you?”

You nearly choked on your drink. A red light flashed in your head; John Walker was about to enter a phase that would put an end to you going out on your own. And you couldn't let that happen. At least not until he had made his final decision in terms of marriage. You needed that wedding, and in order to achieve it you were prepared to do a lot, at the same time you couldn't let John trample you like that. He said himself that he had always wanted you – so he had to realize that he could easily lose you. You couldn't be the only one who was fearing about this 'relationship'.

“Johnny,” you echoed his name, but this time you almost said it between clenched teeth with a kind of determination and slight irritation. You plastered a smile on your face to sound at least a little softer. “You are really sweet. But I need time with my friends. It will be something like my bachelorette party.” The words you used were intentional; you wanted to give him the idea that he should finally make up his mind and officially ask you to marry him. It wasn't your dream, but you had to protect yourself; you had to stop letting him lead you around by the nose, taking advantage of your dates.

“You're right. But you have to promise me that we'll spend all Sunday together. Tomorrow you will be just for me and no one else.”

The dates with John were not a disaster largely because they usually lasted a few hours. Spending a whole day with him was different. And if you reacted this way to this prospect – with discouraged silence – what about spending the rest of your life with John? You've probably never seen it in this light before, and it suddenly made you sick.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you said hurriedly. “Yes, of course, we will spend the whole Sunday together.”

“Perfect. See you then?”

“See you then.”

You tossed your phone to the other end of the couch. Connie appeared in the living room, although technically she had been there the whole time due to the living room being connected to the kitchen. She looked at you with concern, put down the margarita pitcher she had brought, and sat beside you.

“He's not that bad,” you claimed.

“Yeah, sure.”

You squinted, staring blankly at a random point in front of you. “But…”

Under the influence of margarita, you wanted to make some philosophical speech about how your end was near; how it was creeping up on you, crawling under your skin. You were sure of the end of your freedom, as future husbands tend to joke about, but you hated these jokes. Eventually you said nothing, occupying your head with ways to help you unwind; to somehow honor the potentially last opportunity for you to go out like this; without your controlling soon-to-be husband.

Having shaken your head to get rid of some unnecessary thoughts, you glanced at Connie, smiling at her tenderly. “Would you be so kind and lend me the shortest dress you have?”

Although you weren't in the mood for men's company, the decision about the dress resulted in exactly what you thought it would. It was short enough that you didn't dare bend down, but its length and tightness actually played only a partial role in making you attract attention. You oozed a sort of mysterious, appealing aura of being open to innocent propositions you might have refused; eager for an adventure you might not have taken part in. Men followed you with their eyes, and it looked as if they were prepared to get burnt, to be rejected only if that meant they could get close to you, to exchange a few words, to have the opportunity to be noticed by you.

Perhaps it was the irritation, the cooling anger at John and the exhaustion of your living situation that made you attract people the way flame attracts moths? Perhaps your true nature – the one your mother tried to nip – has been bubbling to the surface through some small cracks, caused by your recent bending to the will imposed from everywhere? Or was it simply the result of a couple margaritas consumed before going out?

You didn't know, and you didn't particularly care.

From the moment you arrived at the club – the kind of club you had in mind; with colorful but not aggressive lights, affordable alcohol and good music; on this night, hits from the early 2000s prevailed – you and Connie basically didn't leave the dance floor. Not including short breaks for drinks at the bar or going to the toilet. For the first time in a long time, you felt your age – carefree, almost irresponsible; you were having fun.

Time seemed to flow a little differently, so you didn't know exactly how much of it had passed, but Connie and you were starting to get sore feet. You knew that choosing some flat shoes would be a wise move, but high heels made your legs look even better than usual. There was no room for reason that night.

Connie disappeared somewhere, having promised earlier to get you some seats. You didn't want to return to the dance floor alone, besides, you needed to catch your breath. You ordered something exceptionally non-alcoholic at the bar – orange juice with ice – and decided to wait for your friend there. Resting your elbows on the slightly sticky counter, thereby trying to transfer your body weight from your sore legs, you sipped your juice.

The bartender unexpectedly slipped you a pink drink in a wine glass. “From that guy.” She nodded to the other end of the counter.

You turned your head in that direction. Seeing him, you felt a knot in your stomach, and your heart in your mouth. A strong shudder ran through your body, sending that familiar electricity right to your fingertips. By avoiding him for so long, you had built a wall that was supposed to make you immune to the feelings he evoked in you. But all it took was one look to tear it down.

As Bucky was coming towards you, you considered running away, but your body – craving his attention, longing for his presence – stuck in place, refusing to obey you.

He stood next to you, his hand resting on the surface of the counter, his fingers almost reaching your elbow. You looked at his face; to your disadvantage, he was as beautiful as ever, his plump lips were wet, giving them the impression of being even more luscious; his eyes seemed fatigued as he watched you with calm and benevolence.

“Aren't you going to ask what I’m doing here?” He spoke, and from the way he articulated the words you were able to tell that he was a little drunk. “If I'm following you..?”

“No, I'm not going to ask that. I’m not going to ask about anything, actually, because I shouldn't be talking to you at all.”

Bucky smiled, but there was not a bit of warmth in that smile. “So you're marrying him…” He nodded slowly, running his tongue over his teeth. “Did he tell you to stay away from me or what?”

Closing your eyes, you let out a heavy sigh. “I want this marriage to work, Bucky.” You looked him straight in the eye. “And it won’t work with you there. I wish I could keep what we have, I wish I could keep you, I swear, but I can’t. I need you to understand that. Please.”

At first he stared at you without a word, anger crept onto his face. “So that’s it? I lose you, you get your perfect little husband?”

You pursed your lips; no matter what, you didn’t expect to hear something like this from Bucky, yet you deserved it; you should’ve had a normal conversation with him. And now you were too tired, too defeated already, to fight. “Yeah, that’s it,” you said briefly. “Friendship isn't meant for us. Thanks for the drink,” you added, trying to take the least emotional approach possible, but in reality you could feel your heart breaking.

Bucky looked like he was slowly being consumed by panic. But there was nothing you could do about it. You grabbed the glass filled with alcohol he'd bought for you and moved away from the bar. Anywhere, as long as it's far away from him.

By the kindness of one man (or, rather, innocent flirtation), Connie got the seats in the VIP box. The man shared it with a friend who introduced himself as Reggie, Ricky or Randy; you couldn't recall the correct version. You didn't focus on his name; nor did you pay particular attention to what he was saying. All you knew was that he called you pretty, and was buying you drinks, which you accepted cautiously.

Things stopped going as you had hoped. This was supposed to be your night without men, yet you were just letting one hit on you. You were supposed to have fun, yet you felt heartbroken by the situation with Bucky. Since when did everything start revolving around him? Since when did your mood depend on what was going on between the two of you? Did your first meeting unlock some mechanism that you were both doomed to, or did you just get so attached to him over the course of a couple weeks?

When Reggie/Ricky/Randy's hand resting on your thigh began to go higher and higher, your thoughts crashed against all these questions like rough waves. It didn't bother you, what he was doing. And since it didn't bother you, you decided not to spoil his fun. Your thoughts wandered so far and wide that you barely noticed the moment he kissed you. His hot, alcohol-breathing lips pressed onto yours, and you were basically indifferent to that too. Maybe not so indifferent, because you found something pleasurable in it; your relationship with John lacked the flame, the immediate desire. And Reggie/Ricky/Randy had that boyish charm mixed with the possessiveness of a grown man; a combination that appealed to you very much. Besides, your future wasn't in his hands, and not being at Reggie/Ricky/Randy's mercy turned you on even more.

And suddenly he was gone.

Reggie/Ricky/Randy ended up on the floor. You lifted up your eyes from the drunken man, unable to get up from the ground, and saw Bucky. Again. With clenched jaw and heavy breathing, he watched Reggie/Ricky/Randy laying between you. However, he was harmless enough to quickly lose Bucky's interest, so he grabbed your wrist and forced you to stand up, then follow him.

“Bucky!” you groaned. You were afraid that Bucky was capable of dragging you behind him if the situation called for it. “You're walking too fast! I can’t walk that fast in these heels!”

He stopped sharply and turned towards you; you could see how angry he was. You didn’t know when he positioned his hands at the right places on your body, so he could throw you over his shoulder. An amused giggle escaped your mouth, but you quickly remembered that you should be mad at him.

“Put me down!” You hit him somewhere under the shoulder blade and immediately felt the hardness of his muscles – you might as well have hit a stone. You massaged your sore hand right away, meanwhile coming to terms with the fact that he couldn't hear you over the thumping music anyway.

A sudden coolness and distant sounds indicated that you had left the club. Bucky put you down but still stayed close in case you would lose your balance.

“What the hell are you doing?” You abruptly pushed back his arm, which was meant to secure you.

“What I am doing?” he bit back, the anger not leaving his face. He seemed more sober than before, too. “What the hell are you doing to yourself, Y/N? Kissing some strange guy in front of fucking everyone? You think John is gonna love that, but us hanging out is too much for him? Do you want this marriage or not?”

“What's the difference what I want!” A dreadful sorrow and helplessness echoed in your voice that made Bucky perplexed. His lips parted slightly, then snapped shut, his eyes filled with concern and sympathy. Despite the fact that you had been yelling at each other outside the club for the past few minutes, these words rang out most emphatically, bringing you both back to reality. “Who cares, Buck?” you said more quietly. “I'm supposed to marry a guy I don't really know, and I try to like him, but the more time I spend with him, the harder it gets. I'm not even talking about love, not hoping for it to happen, because I know John Walker is not it. But it doesn't matter, I still have to have his children, otherwise everything I'm doing now goes out the window. And I'm doing it so that my sister doesn't have to. So that she and my mother don't have to worry about the future and money. I would do anything for them, but my mother won't even speak to me; she is mad at me for it.” You quickly wiped a hot tear from your cheek, completely missing the moment you started crying. “I know there are worse things than marrying a rich guy.” You rolled your eyes at the depiction of your problem. “But it still hurts. Maybe one day I'll get used to it, but right now I'm fucking scared. I’m all alone, I have no one to get my back, no one to hold my hand. I’m fucking scared-”

“Y/N…”

“No.” You didn't let him get a word in fear that – whatever he had to say – you would break even more. “Help me get through this less painfully and just… disappear. Leave me alone.”

Connie appeared beside you, but you only noticed it when her warm hand touched your bare shoulder. You didn't hear what she was telling you; there was just ringing in your ears, and the sound of gushing blood in your head. Bucky didn't take his eyes off you; you'd never seen him so worried, so vulnerable and unsettled before.

Connie stroked your hair, then put her arm around you, and you both began to walk ahead. The tenderness of her gestures revived you somewhat; you looked away from Bucky and fixed your eyes on the pavement. Eventually she pulled you into probably the only open diner in the area. There was still ringing in your ears, but you realized that you were to get something warm to drink and wait for a cab.

One of your first conscious thoughts shortly after waking up was that physically you felt far too good for a hangover. You were genuinely disappointed by this, as this kind of suffering would have been the perfect excuse not to spend the day with John. The perfect excuse for your nasty mood.

You sat up on the bed, your eyes automatically fell on the black sweatshirt slung over the chair by a vanity table. Returning it would have been the perfect opportunity to see him, but you had finished that stage in your life, and you were going to stick to it. You decided not to bother with how you planned to give Bucky back his property. Instead, you grabbed the sweatshirt off the chair and put it on.

When you went down to the kitchen, you met Michael there. He was sipping coffee – as you gathered from the smell lingering in the room – and focused on you as soon as you entered his sight. As you prepared your tea, you felt his attentive gaze on you.

“Where were you last night?”

You almost dropped the cup from your hands. That uncomfortable, paralyzing electricity ran through your body. The only reason Michael could have asked that particular question was because he knew – someone had told him about what you were doing; that you were making out with a man whose name you couldn't even remember. And if Michael knew, John was also going to get that information sooner or later.

“At a nightclub. With Connie. Do you remember Connie..?” You glanced over your shoulder and he only nodded. “Why do you ask?” you added casually, although in reality you were sure you were about to have a heart attack.

“I thought you saw Bucky Barnes. That you convinced him to change his mind.”

Your forehead furrowed, your eyes widened. Trying to ignore the fact your heart skipped a beat, you turned to Michael. “What..?”

“He has made an offer.”

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob bucky #mob!bucky x y/n #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky x y/n #mafia!bucky x reader #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky x y/n #bucky fic #bucky fanfic

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estrellami-1 · 5 months

Text

If I Should Stay

I’m not gonna lie… if there was a part to leave as my last one for a month… I’d choose this one. I hope y'all like it as much as I do! ❤️

Part 1 | . . . | Part 40 | Part 41 | Part 42

El watches the proceedings with wide eyes, and grips onto Steve’s hand the moment he’s close enough. “It’s time,” she says. She might be asking; she’s not quite sure.

Steve’s face falls. “Almost,” he agrees, pulling her into a hug. She goes gladly, tucking her face into his neck. “I think we’ve got one more day,” he murmurs, not letting go. “Are you up for some training today?”

She pulls back to look him in the eye. It’s the easiest way for her to make sure he’s telling the truth. “I will be stronger?”

“That’s the goal,” Steve nods. “I don’t know if it’ll work.”

El thinks about it, then nods. “I want to try.”

“M’kay. Have you eaten recently? Alli made some pretty great mac and cheese we can heat up, if you want it.”

El had mac and cheese before. It was cold, because she had to wait for Mike to bring it to her in the basement. The noodles were rubbery and the cheese didn’t taste good. She scrunches her nose, but Steve doesn’t look like he’s lying, so she relaxes her face and nods. “That would be good,” she tells him.

He smiles and ruffles the little bit of hair she has. “‘Course, El. I’m gonna heat this up, and while you eat, we can talk, okay?”

“Okay,” she answers, and watches as he puts some of the pasta into a bowl and sticks it into the microwave.

As it’s heating up, Steve turns to Eddie and Wayne. “Eddie, think you can bring him up to speed? We’ll be in the dining room if you have any questions.”

Eddie nods and waves his uncle out of the kitchen in the direction of the living room, already speaking faster than Eleven had thought possible.

When they’re both sitting at the table, her with a steaming bowl in front of her and a fork in hand, Steve starts talking. “First things first,” he says softly. “Eleven. That’s not your name; it was a number assigned to you.”

She perks up. “You know my name?”

Steve nods. “Jane.”

“Jane,” she tries out, then nods decisively. She likes it.

“So eleven. The number. That means there were at least ten others. We know Vecna, Henry Creel, is One. That leaves nine more.”

El shakes her head. She knows this. “They all died.”

Steve gives her a sad sort of smile. “Not all of them. You meet your sister, Kali. She’s number eight. She can make you believe you’re seeing something that isn’t there. She’s very powerful, and she taught you how she got that powerful.” He puts his fingertips together with his palms apart. It looks like a spider on a mirror, and El gets sidetracked for a moment by the image.

“What do you know about fairy tales?” Steve asks, and El blinks and chews the bite she’d just put in her mouth.

“They’re fake,” she eventually says. “Stories about things that never happened, that can’t ever happen.”

Steve smiles at her. “Yes, but there’s still lessons to be learned from them. Can I tell you my favorite version of a fairy tale called Sleeping Beauty?”

El perks up again. “I know that one! A witch curses the princess so she falls asleep forever until her true love finds her and kisses her.”

Steve nods. “That’s the most popular version,” he agrees, lips tilted up. “But that’s not my favorite.”

She tilts her head. “What is your favorite?”

He grins at her. “Once upon a time there was a princess. She was cursed, you got that right, but it wasn’t by a witch. It was by a fairy who hadn’t been invited to her first birthday, which is a very big deal when you’re a princess. So the fairy curses her to fall asleep—her and the rest of the kingdom—when she pricks her finger on a spinning wheel when she turns eighteen. Everything goes exactly as the fairy had said, and eighteen years after she casts the spell, the princess—Aurora—falls asleep, only to be woken by true love’s kiss. The fairy came to check on Aurora and found her sleeping, just as she’d planned. But something unexpected happened: the fairy felt compassion for her. She took to sitting by her bedside every day, waiting for the princess’s true love to appear. Finally one day she goes to leave and presses a kiss to Aurora’s forehead. Can you guess when happened?”

El frowns. “She woke up?”

“Exactly,” Steve nods. “She woke up because the fairy loved her. True love can come from anywhere. It doesn’t have to be romantic.” He takes one of El’s hands in his own and looks into her eyes. “Kali taught you to use your anger to get stronger. I want you to try to use love. It’s the one thing Henry Creel doesn’t have.”

El thinks about it. “I don’t have to kiss anyone.”

Steve chuckles. “No, you don’t have to kiss anyone. But you know me, right? You know Mike and Will and Dustin and Lucas. And you know Robin, Eddie, Nancy, and Jonathan, now, right?”

“Right,” El nods.

“And do you love any of us? Do you want us to stay safe?”

El thinks carefully about the question, then nods. “Like the fairy.”

Steve’s eyes crinkle as he grins at El. “Just like the fairy.”

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#stranger things #if I should stay #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #wayne munson #el hopper #el and Steve #they are my absolute favorite I swear #fix it fic #time travel fic #time travel fix it #time travel fix it fic #starambles

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vampiretendencies · 1 year

Text

IDCNTLIKEDARKNESS MILESTONE EVENT ★

request; hi love ! so i saw someone request “jj x reader where they are making out and her lip stick smudges on her face and all over his lips, and they’re just so in love” on another page and i was wondering what your version would look like.. <3

pairing; jj maybank x fem!reader

warnings; shotgunning (smoking), fluff, making out

authors notes; after i did that headcanon yesterday of what jj was like as a boyfriend i decided to do an entire blurb of just shotgunning, i hope this little twist i added is okay !!

masterlist — jj maybank masterlist — milestone masterlist

Neither of you knew how you’d gotten here.

How you are seated at the far end of JJ’s dirt bike, and his back is to the steering handles— facing you. Knees grazing the others, helplessly waiting for the release between JJ’s fingertips. Or maybe it could be described as an escape, a painless one at that. The tight space in John B’s front yard was ideal, and JJ is taken aback that he hadn’t thought of sooner.

His girl, his weed, his bike, and his beer.

His only necessities in life.

Though you are first on that list, his priorities lie with you. Even if there wasn’t another ounce of weed to spare on this planet, you were his remedy.

And he was content with that.

Chasing the love you give him was enough of a rush in itself.

Willing to run forever until he’d gotten enough— and he’d never have enough.

The initial escape, is a blunt and it’s sitting pretty between his knuckles. Aligning together to uphold it at an angle, all the power of nothingness in such a small load. Thankfully he’d be stuck in that nothingness with you. JJ’s neck is somewhat sunburnt, as he’d given you the more shadier side of the bike, guarded by the overpowering tree at the Chateau. He’d never mind though, his girl deserves nothing less. He’s admiring you like he met you an hour ago, like it was the first time. What stuck out most though, was the seductive lip stain adorning your mouth a dark brown accentuating the curvature of your cupids bow and a cinnamon red blotted in the middle. Tinted and emphazing his most favored part on your features.

The shotgunning that’s too commence was a shared hobby between you and JJ. Bonding over it after he’d stepped foot in the local shop you worked at, coming in to buy rolling papers. Though JJ knew full well that they weren’t sold there, he just couldn’t get your image out of his mind upon buying a six pack earlier that week. An exceptional beauty behind the cash register.

Hell, he still has the first blunt the two of you shared locked away beneath his pillow in a small baggie— an emblem of the relationship.

And the rest was history.

“Gonna’ have to open real wide for me baby.”

He reminded, though is wasn’t necessary. What he was really after was seeing your mouth all slack for him, agape and awaiting his sensuous smoke to enter your lungs.

Quite the sight for ravenous eyes.

“I know,” you deadpan. Giving him a pat on the shoulder, as if to say ‘you achieved nothing with that sentence’. Even still he’s offering a shit-eating grin, weight shifting on the bike to reach the zippo lighter in his cargo-shorts pocket— with one swift movement the blunt burned with fire.

JJ encloses his pair of lips on the bud, expertly letting a cloud of smoke flow to the back of his throat, reserving the remainder in his mouth for you. Hallowing his cheeks, his hands form a ‘come closer’ motion and you inch forward on the bike— it was unknown how much more room was still left between the couple after being this insanely closed in and harmoniously integrated.

He curves his index finger beneath your chin— putting it out, unable to waste one drop as he was planning on basking in this moment; talent like because this was second nature. His mouth parted open along with yours, delicately blowing the milky white smoke to the back of your throat. His eyes darkened, watching such a tasteful scene unfold before him.

Allowing you a second to inhale it and feel it deep in your lungs— the sharpness of the weed daggering at your throat causing a cough or two. He desperately rested his hands around your waist, luring you into his eager lap. Smoke-ridden lips feathering loving pecks to your jaw, giving way for you to sulk in the nourishment that the joint gave you.

“Doing so good, pretty girl.”

Large hands centered about your neck, tightening around and grasping onto it with no sanity. Your breath hitches at the suddenness, he hungered for a raw make out session—he was going to get exactly that. Anticipating, with wandering bodies ravaging one another. His tongue searched your bottom lip, licking it with rigorous notions as well as countering the lipstick painting your lips. It was like the cherry on top before his mouth molded with yours, slowly and all at once. His grasp on your neck, cutting off air flow but still you wanted more— you wanted to keep going.

“Fuckin’ love you baby.”

He groaned forward, meaning it but more of confessing it into the kiss so that you could feel it in your bones, continuing to turn his head to meet with yours. And still he lingers, adams apple bobbing, lips attacking yours fully. Teeth biting down on your bottom lip, showing it attention once again. So full of affection he can’t contain it. Pairs of lips intact, moving with the rhythm of the wind until you let go to press your forehead against JJ’s coming up for any granule of air. Chests heaving, his bright eyes take in the sloppy, and smeared lipstick that’s littering your lips.

So fucking messy, but still the prettiest thing he’s seen.

The evidence that you were on his lips was there, the rest of the printed red indented into his plump ones. Pouted outward at the no contact.

“You got a little something there.”

You confirmed, tracing the lipstick shade to his mouth, adjusting your hips in his lap. Sharing sentimental kisses and sharing endless weed with his girl on his bike, again, he’d wished he’d thought of it sooner.

“Lick it off?”

“M’not licking lipstick off of your face JJ.”

Aware that he’d find some notorious way to coerce you into doing so.

#outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank headcanons #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x routledge!reader #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank imagines

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fanta2y · 3 months

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Inherently Worthy Pt. One

WOOOO im excited yall, this will be my first multi-part fic!!

The parts themselves will range from 1k to probably 3k-ish words. Since i want to keep the story flowing, I have alot already prewritten for it so updates should be fairly regular.

cw: Sorcerer!Sukuna AU, blood and injury, kinda graphic and a bit descriptive.

part two

word count: 1.1k

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Blood.

It was everywhere.

You felt it gushing out of the particularly bad wound you sported on your side, the growing agony making your brain fuzzy and your eyes blurry. You felt it slip past your fingertips as you tried to hold the wound close.

You could hear it as you walked aimlessly, it stuck to your boots. The red color left a trail behind you as you hobbled away from the barely survived mission. The curse was exorcised and removed from the abandoned mall.

Which left you to deliriously wander around, trying to rack your brain to remember how to get out of this mess.

But the blood that left your body made you cold, and it made your mind drowsy. You felt like your head had been stuffed with cotton, your eyes could barely focus on what was infront of you and each step you took felt like you were getting heavier and heavier.

Alarm bells were ringing in your mind, you knew that if you didn’t get help soon you were probably going to die. The thought didn’t scare you as much as you thought it should, which only caused the alarm bells to ring louder.

You fished around in your pocket for your phone, praying to whoever might be listening that it wasn’t broken.

You pulled it out of your back pocket, wiping the sticky substance off of the screen. Revealing only minimal damage, a long crack spidering along the edges. You turned it on and went to unlock it.

You clicked on the first contact that came to mind, which probably wasn’t the greatest idea.

However, that wasn’t realized until the gruff voice came through the speaker. The phone hadn’t even been able to complete its first ring.

“Hello? Brat?” The low tone washed over your ears, and you suddenly felt the urge to cry.

“Ryo…uh..” You willed the shakiness of your voice away in hopes of not worrying him, even though you knew that he should be worried, anyone should be worried about your current predicament.

You heard rustling on the other end, almost as if he was moving around.

“The curse has been exorcised.” You tried, hoping to ease some of the thoughts that you knew were probably running rampant through his mind. “Almost took me along with it though.” You finished, nearly mumbling.

“Brat, I told you that someone should’ve came with you. But no, just had to be stubborn.” He grumbled, his words were harsh but you’ve known him long enough to know that he was just worried.

He continued on and on, but at some point, you couldn’t focus enough to pay attention. His words buzzed through your ears, but your head was swimming and the black dots were engrossing your vision. They made it difficult to process his words

You must have said something because his voice got louder, but your brain still couldn’t piece together the syllables. It all just sounded like white noise, you didn’t want to worry him. Trying to will yourself to say something, anything, but your tongue was heavy and your body didn’t seem to want to cooperate with you.

“s’rry” was the only thing you could force out before you swiftly lost consciousness, and the sound of your body hitting the floor echoed through the empty mall.

–

Sukuna wasn’t scared of many things, dare he say nothing at all.

When your as powerful as he is, you don’t get ‘scared’. But the ice cold he feels coursing through his veins, how he’s sure his heart is somewhere floating around in his stomach acid. This is the closest he’s ever gotten to fear.

It almost paralyzed him. Keyword, almost.

The second he heard your wheezy apology, and the concerningly wet thumb of your body hitting the floor. He felt his senses go into overdrive. Busting out of his dorm room and practically sprinting to Gojo's office.

As much as he may detest the man and all his theatrics, he’s the only one who could get him to you quick enough before something irreversible happens.

Facing the door of his office, not even bothering to knock. Sukuna pushed open the door, Gojo didn’t startle as the door aggressively hits the wall. He lifts his head from the paperwork hes doing, an easy smile on his face.

“What can I do for you my precio-”

“She’s hurt.” He cuts him off, not having time for his dramatics. The room went silent, the air thick with a tension.

Without a word, Gojo stands. The smile now nowhere to be seen, he turns to Sukuna.

“Where?” The word serious, any trace of playfulness leaving his tone. The energy shifting around them into something cold and serious.

“Some abandon mall, I’ve got her location.” He mumbles, fishing for the phone in his pocket. He showed it to him, the little dot blinking showing the mall where you stayed. Gojo nodded his head, committing the address to memory.

“Hold on.” Was all the warning Sukuna got before they are warped to the mall, somewhere inside of it. The mall reeks of mildew and rotting wood. Sukuna can hear the wetness dripping from somewhere in the ceiling.

The only reassuring aspect is the distinct lack of cursed spirit energy, its almost equally concerning as he can barely feel yours. Its just a small hum, tingling up the back of his spine. Nothing like it normally is and it only serves to make the panic bubbling under his skin begin boiling.

But Gojo had a much more refined sense of cursed energy, and had already pinpointed your location within the labyrinth esque layout.

With Gojo leading the way, they find you rather quickly. Sitting in a concerningly large pile of your own blood. Sukuna was at your side in a second, quickly feeling your neck and wrists for a pulse. Any sign that you were alive, that this wasn’t all the time you two would get together.

Thankfully under his shaky fingers, he felt the soft bump of your heart as it struggled to pump the remaining blood throughout your body. He felt Gojo’s hand on his shoulder, his thumb gently digging into the flesh there.

“Can you pick her up?” Gojo asked, albeit already knowing the answer. Sukuna gently situated your body for him to pick you up bridal style. The ragdoll of your limbs and head made him feel a sickness churning in his stomach. He noticed the long gash on your side, assuming that was where most of the blood was coming from.

Without another word, you three are warped back to Jujustu High.

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authors note: a wee bit of a cliffhanger hehehe i hope you guys enjoyyy, im excited about writing this and i hope it turns out the way i want !! thank you guys for all the love for my writing, it really means the world to me!! thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed <33 take care of yourselves, much love !!

#sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna fanfiction #sukuna fanfic #sukuna fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen x reader #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #jujustu kaisen angst #angst #cliffhangers #thanks for reading !!#hope you enjoy <3

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holylulusworld · 20 days

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Broken Rose (2)

Summary: He may have stolen your kingdom and freedom – but he’ll never own your heart. Right?

Pairing: Alpha!Geralt of Rivia x Queen(Omega)!Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of forced/arranged marriage trope, a/b/o, magic, mentions of character’s death

Broken Rose masterlist

Broken Rose (1)

“You won’t walk away from me like that, omega!” Geralt calls after you. He’s walking faster to catch up with you. “I told you to stop.”

“You conquered these lands, and the castle, but I am still the queen of this kingdom. Someone must look out for the people who are not under your spell! The knights only listen to your command and don’t care for my people any longer.”

“I did not say that.” Geralt’s features darken. “Your knights follow their usual routine. The only difference is that I forced them to accept me as their king and alpha.”

“You promised me to free them!” You twirl around to glare at Geralt. “You lied! Just like back then, you lied!”

“I did not lie back then!” He yells back. “I wanted to court you! I asked your father for your hand, and the honor to claim you. I wasn’t good enough!”

“You’re a liar! I know you left to whore around with that witch,” you sneer at him. “What was her name?”

“This doesn’t…” He grits his teeth. “I was with her to gain more powers. It was the only way! She meant nothing to me!”

“She meant enough to you to fuck her!” You raise your voice, and walls start to shake. “Do not lie to me!”

“What are you doing?” Geralt watches you with darkened eyes. “Stop this! I will force you into submission if you don’t stop angering me.”

“Yennefer, that was her name,” you step closer to Geralt to run your hand over his chest. He follows the motion, wondering what you are up to. “Did you never question her disappearance?”

You laugh darkly when his stoic mask slips for a moment. Worry flashes in his eyes for a second. “Y/N, stop talking about the past.”

“Did she mean so little to you that you don’t care if she’s dead or alive?” You coo the words, a smile on your lips. “Did you not call her your love too?” You lean closer to whisper in his ear. “Or did you lie to her too?”

“How’d you find out about Yennefer?” He watches you walk around the room, fingertips sliding over the bust of your father. “Y/N! How did you find out about her?”

Geralt raises his voice. Yennefer was close to winning his heart over. He almost forgot about his plan to get you back and take over your kingdom.

She was a sly witch. Yennefer enchanted him with her beauty and magic, almost breaking his resolve to never give his heart to anyone else.

“Father,” you place your hand onto the bust, tapping your fingers. “I pleaded with him. One last time I tried to convince him that a bond between you and me would strengthen our kingdom.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can be very convincing,” you push the bust off its rightful place, watching it crack into two halves. “Father was almost convinced.” You dip your head and smirk. “That was, of course, until he found out about your wench.”

“I—” He swallows thickly. Geralt you can be hard, and unforgiving. “What did you do?”

“I accepted a bond with his friend’s son, a prince,” you walk toward the next bust showing your father at a younger age. “A nasty man who only wanted one thing.” This time you punch the bust, making it tumble and fall to the ground.

“Let me guess,” Geralt steps toward the next bust. He gently runs his hand over it, admiring the handiwork. “He wanted to tame you.”

“All men want to tame a woman,” you step next to Geralt to look at the bust of your younger self. “He’s not alone.”

“…and they failed. One, after another,” Gerald muses. “Like your knights when they tried to stop me. They fell. One, by one, by one.”

“They didn’t fall,” you snap and turn your attention toward the last bust. The one they made shortly before your father passed away. “You used your magic. This has nothing to do with strength or talent.”

“Strength, talent, magic,” he shrugs while circling you like prey. “It doesn’t matter, Y/N. In the end, they were weak and let it happen. You on the other hand,” his eyes glow when he looks at you again. “Still nothing. I cannot enchant you with my powers. Even if I wanted to.”

You cock your head, mirroring his smirk. “Did you ever wonder why?”

“Your will is too strong,” he replies. “You inherit a different kind of magic deep within your soul. A magic so strong that it cannot be broken by my powers.

“Back to your lover,” you push against the last bust, watching it shatter on the ground. “Do you miss her?”

“Y/N let’s not talk about the past. We have a future to build. I want these lands to grow and blossom. At the moment, it’s rotten and not fruitful.”

“Like your seed,” you smirk darkly, knowing about the price Geralt paid for his powers. “It’s rotten, just like your wench’s womb. Isn’t it?”

“What happened to her?” Geralt watches you caress your mother’s bust. “Y/N, what happened to her?”

“She paid the price for conspiring with my father to make me forget about you,” you chuckle darkly. “Imagine her surprise when her powers did nothing for her. She was powerless while facing me.”

“She conspired with your father. This cannot be true,” he shakes his head. Geralt is proud of his sharp mind, and his talent to see through any lie. “No.”

You kiss your mother’s bust and sigh. While she was still around, your father was a different man. He would’ve never tricked you into marrying another man than Geralt.

“I was surprised too, Geralt. I heard rumors and believed you simply found a better mate,” your voice cracks. “Imagine my surprise when the very same woman came to collect on my wedding day.”

“Wedding day?” Geralt gasps. “No. You’re not married! You’re my queen, no one else’s!”

“I didn’t say I got married,” you chuckle darkly as you grab his hand to place it onto your heart. “Can you feel this? This heart got broken one too many times. I’ve had enough and took matters into my hands.”

“Y/N, what did you do?”

“What had to be done,” you hold his hand in a tight grip. “He denied me my future so…”

“So…” Geralt furrows his brows, already knowing he answer.

“I took his…”

Tags in reblog.

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #a/b/o #alpha!geralt of rivia x omega!reader #royal au #Broken Rose (2)#the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia x you

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iwaasfairy · 1 year

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┌─ “ „ FIXED

tw. cest, bit of degradation but mainly praise, spit, oral fixation, oral, choking, its kinda soft pffff so tw feelings, corruption, hajime gets off on the guilt wordcount. 4.2k

a/n. who's surprised about more cest? exactly no one ♡♡♡ but i missed hajime nii, besides i haven't written nearly enough full length big bro iwa fics FIXED /fikst/ 1. predetermined and not subject to or able to be changed. (adj.) 2. mend or repair. (verb)

iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

You never really knew that much about boys growing up. That’s just how it went. Hajime started playing volleyball before you were old enough to remember different. Your life was constructed around it. Every practice for him meant no free babysit for your parents, so you were dragged with mom to dance class with other moms. And they brought their equally clueless baby girls, which led to you enrolling in girls related things with girls who related.

You wouldn’t have known about boy’s things, apart from the small circle of cultivated friends Hajime allowed into his space, and yours. It wasn’t on purpose, but the outcome was still the same.

Any and all information you had about boys came straight from Hajime’s mouth, who was older. Compared to clueless you; niichan held the wisdom of a sage. You always clung to his every word, even as he grew bigger. Even as he grew more snappy, sick of dealing with his friends who were stupid boys and did stupid high school boy things. Everything you didn’t know went through niichan. Not ever the other boy spending too much time in your house, because Oikawa was a liar, and niichan would make sure you remembered it.

But you knew certain things too when you saw them, and what small amount you did know— was now rearing it’s ugly head and asking questions.

“Wh—what’s this? What are you watching?” As you shuffle out of the hall with a frown, you hold niichan’s phone away from your body with loose fingertips. Boys might not have cooties anymore in your mind, but everyone talks about how gross boys are. You don’t want to risk it. And Hajime freezes in place like he’s guilty, wide-eyed. It’s brand new. Unusual. Like hitting bullseye on the first throw, tickling your brain from within.

See, Hajime was always bigger than most in your town, athletically built, and prone to using that build full of energy and power to his advantage. That to say, he was always quicker than most to squish you into silence or grab you by the collar instead of using his words when it came to accusations. Your parents weren't around much to scold him for it. It’s what his popular best friend loved to call ‘anger issues’, wait for it to blow up.

And silent, thinly veiled panic isn’t — that.

“Why the hell are you on my phone?” Hajime’s face blanks as he puts down the remote, glances over his shoulder for supervision, and puts on his meanest glare as he scrambles up from the couch. He’d been left on little sister duty all afternoon, and now, you’d gone and made a critical error. Your friends joke about no-goes, but you never really got why ‘messing around on a boy’s phone’ was an issue.

Hajime nii clearly doesn’t agree. His biceps bulge as he crosses his arms over his chest with mouth set in a thin line, and you shuffle in place within arms’ reach of him.

“I’m not on your phone, I just found it like this on your bed.” It’s the truth, you hadn’t meant to find anything. Intent doesn’t matter to your big brother though, because he towers you as he does. It’s the best way you can describe the way he glares you down ice cold, close enough to make your skin break out in goosebumps, waiting for retaliation. If you were any of his guy friends, you’re sure they’d get a solid kick to the shin. The little sister treatment is more mean mugging you until you fidget. “I wasn’t even snooping, I just needed to get a charger,” you tack on, swinging your arms behind your back.

“Give it.”

“No,” you quip back, for no particular reason other than to win the back and forth that always starts like this.

“Give me my phone, before I choose to take it.” His hand sticks out, bigger than yours, and you lean back a little. Usually it’s just empty threats. But sometimes you pick the wrong day to argue back, until you end screaming like a banshee under him like it’s life or death. Niichan’s still young enough where it makes him feel strong not to hold back.

The second ‘no’ sticks in your throat as he leans into your space more, and you can basically taste the natural instinct to roll over before he gets there. But you can’t help yourself. You want answers. You don’t deliver the device as quickly as he wants you to. A single eyebrow raises -an I dare you- deciding whether or not to smack you over the head for your transgression.

And you should know better, but the younger sibling in you aches. You suck your bottom lip. “Why are you watching this?” you grimace as you look at the phone again, unlocking it to reveal the video of a naked girl suckling on what the deadly annoying, high-pitched whine of ‘step brother’ loud through the little phone speaker says is her brother’s… parts. It doesn’t look like anything you’ve ever seen, from the few seconds you watched. But niichan always gets into the bath before you, and you don’t peek. Ever. But judging by the groaning and moaning from the guy, it must be-

Hajime goes bright red in his face as he yanks the phone out of your hands. “Don’t play it, are you fucking stupid?” Your father is still just as busy in his office as he’s been all day, but the way he panics to turn it off would almost make you think differently.

“It’s porn, isn’t it? You’re watching porn.” You’ve heard your friends talk about porn enough to know what it is. You just don’t know why he’s watching it. “Why?”

After clicking out of the tab, your big brother makes a face that’s equal parts fed up, and embarrassed, but he doesn’t give you any of the answers you’re looking for. “Shittykawa sent me that, ’s nothing. Just- fuck, don’t touch my shit again. Or I’ll knock the sense into you, y’hear?”

“But why watch it?”

“You’re dumber than you look if you think I’ll talk to you about-” The last word isn’t even spoken, but it feels like it’s heard just as loud. Your brother watches porn. There’s a pit in your stomach. Because your brother isn’t a liar, but he also isn’t a gossip. And he doesn’t offer up important information until you ask, which always ends with you feeling left out. Late. The overly girly pout of the woman moaning rings in your mind over and over. You’ve never done that stuff to your brother. Instead of helping you out, he hoards info. It makes the hairs on your neck stand up, and you don’t know why.

When he goes to brush past you, you wrap your arms around his waist and cling to him, face to stomach as he tries to walk away. “I’m not done,” you drag out the word, “niichan, stahp-uh. St-aw-aww! You’re hurting me!” You’re really to blame for the way you struggle to hold him in place, and he isn’t one to just fold without a fight. “Niisan~ tell me why! Come on, don’t be annoying. Ughh— don- you’re annoying!” Hajime nii doesn’t just give in. You know that as well as he does.

“Get off!!” His hand is big and warm as it wraps around your neck and he shoves his thigh between your legs, lifted off the floor. You cling on, squeezing hard as he huffs and you use your whole body to try and keep him in place. “Let go of me, brat, fuckin’-uhg- you’re—” You manage to fall back halfway into the couch with Hajime’s weight on top of you in the struggle and bite it, butt landing hard on the floor as he knees you in the shoulder and protects your face just in time. “Idiot, you wanna break your nose over this shit?”

“Why are you looking at that stuff, tell me!” you demand again, through welling up tears this time. “I want to know, or else- Else I’ll ask Oikawa.” He moves just enough to cradle your face and watch you for a second, then blows out a deep breath.

“No, you don’t.” His eyes zero in on yours, and his eyebrows flatten out a little. “You’ve made your point, just stop making a scene.” After running a hand through his spiky tufts of hair, he clicks his tongue. “If I tell you, will you shut up about it?”

Your head bobs up and down quickly, always ready to indulge your brother. “Of course! Promise.” Your voice is extra sweet when you say it.

In turn, Hajime sits back down to make some room for your shoulder as you sink down against the furniture, and look up at him. “Get up from the floor, c’mon-”

“Hajime nii~,” you bristle, crossing your arms over your chest, “just say it.”

You can basically see him think about rolling his eyes, but he fights the urge to instead let out a noncommittal huff, and pats his thigh. “Suit yourself.” You swallow down a sniffle, and rest your head onto the couch. And your niichan’s eyes flick to you again, hesitating. “What d’you want me to- I- If you wanna know why I watched it, it’s- because it feels good. I like it.” Your face must give away your confusion, because he glances over his shoulder again before patting your head and running his fingers through your hair in nerves. “And it is easier for guys to… come if we watch stuff.”

“Like it?” Your lashes tickle against the fabric as you look up at him, not yet satisfied. He’s not getting away with a measly little explanation like that. “But what was the girl doing?” Niichan’s chest rumbles softly with the deep breath he takes, pulling his fingers down to squeeze the bridge of your nose instead, like it’ll shut you up. But it doesn’t, only makes you whine and push at the hand. When he speaks again, his voice is very soft, almost too much so. It makes you giddy. It warms your blood. You love when Hajime nii tells you secrets, or things you’re not supposed to know.

The low mumble reaches. “Sucking his dick.”

Sucking it. You pop your lips, and watch as he starts bouncing his leg next to your head. But the lady in the video wasn’t just sucking. You’re not sure how to word it, so just pout for a moment. It’s not like you mean to push it too far. Evidently, you do though. “Can I do that to you, niichan?”

It nails the coffin closed, because he suddenly stands up and narrows his eyes, as heat comes up all the way to his ears. “Oh my god, don’t make it sound fucked up. I’m—”

"What, what, what?" you pout, and cling to him.

"Shut. Your. Trap. Dad's gonna hear." He takes your cheeks between his index finger and thumb, and makes you really look into his eyes. “Don’t ask anyone else that. Ever, okay? I’m not- talking about this with you right now.”

The conversation sated you back then, it seems. Because it doesn’t come up again until you’ve totally forgotten about it, much, much later. Late enough for you to be awoken from your sleep with an involuntary yawn. Hajime’s apartment is still pitch black, but you’re not unaware of the shape next to you as it slips into the covers with careful motions. Your chest rises and falls shallowly, before you nose pushes into his chest and he settles. “Sorry.”

“M’n -rom d’airport, miss you,” you slur, and also curl up further into Hajime’s heat, who doesn’t bother to try and understand you. You’re not even sure yourself. Only that you don’t want him to move, and that the gentle soothing motion of his heavy hand on your hip is nice. “Hm?”

“You’re taking up my side,” his voice rattles your skull with how deep and low it feels this close to your brain.

“‘M not leaving, you’re warm. Wanna stay here. Forever.” It’s enough to have him give in, slide an arm under your side and drape you up a little higher onto his pillow to really slide in nice and close next to you. Chest to chest, and your face to his collar. It isn’t the first time you’ve cuddled, or felt his thighs force some room between your legs to slide one of his between.

But it’s weird. You can still feel his eyes on your face, magnetic in the twilight. They trail paths all over, suffocatingly so. When you open your eyes as much as the call of sleep will allow, your lashes almost brush his nose, and it tickles, and your big brother’s breath dusts over your cheeks. “Wanna get more sleep before I have to go back home.” You justify, but Hajime doesn’t nod, doesn’t disagree either. He just looks, too close to your face. Your sleepiness doesn’t matter so much when your heart patters against your ribs. It’s just - like ice sliding down your spine, you can feel how your stomach turns inside you, and how hot the air feels. Why is it weird?

You’re older now. You know better now. There’s a whisper, a soft “niichan,” anything to break the tension. It is breathier than you mean it to come out. You just want to know if he feels nauseous too, sensing the same feeling of hell pressing down on your chest as the room seems to come closer. He seems to come closer too. He’s always so bright, so present in your mind. Whether you’re halfway across the world or kept

in his arms. And then pillowy lips connect with yours, nose brushing along your matching one, and your lips are pushed open by a wet, warm tongue. A hot flash travels down your throat as you try not to skitter away at the feeling. It takes a few seconds for your brain to catch up. Why is it different? Why? Why’s your belly burning with a strange sort of pressure? Tonight’s the last night you’ll be spending in Hajime’s apartment for a while, maybe.

His tongue slides into your mouth and tangles with yours, tasting of watermelon and mint mouthwash, and his heart beats slower against your chest. He’s just so close, and you feel like you’re drifting off into dreamland with how warm you feel melting into him. “M-nii -chan,” your voice comes, and a hand grabs your cheek to pull your face closer to his. You’re instantly reminded… of that high pitched moan of that girl on that video.

“Shh, ‘s okay. I’ve got you,” he noses along your jaw, before pressing a lingering kiss right in the middle of your bobbing throat. You don’t expect him to sit up. You don’t expect him to slide his arm under your knees and move you sideways, and to come back to your face for more warm, sloppy, wrong kisses. “I love you. I love you.” This is… wrong, isn’t it? It’s incest, and wrong. The word that haunted you ever since you learned it’s meaning. He groans your name in the quiet, and you automatically reply with a soft moan. Can’t help it. The kissing turns into deeper, needier, panting and spit on your bottom lip before he slides the calloused tips of his fingers over the exposed sliver of your tummy and up.

Hooking your flimsy cotton onto his fingers and pulling at it until he reaches the swell of your tits, but not revealing anything yet. You shake, and your legs spread apart. There’s a pressure on your bladder, on the lowest part of your belly, where heat collects itself and drips out of you into your panties— and it should be more embarrassing than it is. But your pout is kissed by your devoted, all-knowing big brother, and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“Let me- wanna show you somethin’ now.” His breathing against you feels like heaven, sweetening your blood until you can barely think straight over the smacking mouths and dripping of spit and your cunt and the swirling fire in your loins. “You’re so fucking- pretty.” His chest rubs against your tits, and his fingers pinch the skin where your breasts blush with heat, squeezing with a low rumble of his voice. He wants to say something, but doesn’t get the words out, clearly, as he shuts himself up in your lips, then your throat, down to your tits. Your pussy’s glowing, and your mind foggy- something you can’t pinpoint to either sleep or the moment, and is most likely both combined.

Hajime nii’s boxers are barely clinging onto his thighs with the way it’s tented around his cock when he pulls back, taking a long look just like you are. He’s hot, physically burning under your eyes. But also… filled out so much. He was always broad, but now it’s just distracting. Carved from marble and dusted with gold. It’s childish, petulant even, how you take in the sight and moan with your hands pawing at his shirt, but so fucking true. You’re overcome with it, with love for him.

And niichan seems similarly affected as you are, because there’s a furrow between his brows that only relaxes when he stares at your blushy, spit-covered lips, your heaving chest, the sticky patch of your panties as you’re laid spread on his bed.

His hand comes to yours, letting you wrap your fingers around his, but he doesn’t move beyond that. Only breathes deeply, and stares at the way you tangle your fingers between his. “Niichan, please,” you whine, pulling, tugging, demanding him into motion until he places his free hand onto his chubbed cock and squeezes himself through the fabric. The wet patch of his gray boxers clings uncomfortably to his cockhead, and you suck your lip between your teeth. “Show me, niichan. I wa- wan’ you to, please.”

You’re the one sitting up first, grabbing a handful of your own tits to whimper as his fist stays screwed around his cock— and have to lean yourself all the way down to nose at the inside of his thigh before he finally moves again. “Oh- fuck.” His hips jerk as he rubs himself against your cheek once, and when you moan, again. Large hands and long fingers splay out over your head to keep you in place as gently as he can manage as you let your spit-slick tongue rub against him as he fucks into the air and you chase. You only manage a little glance up between your lashes at his heavy petting and desperate few pumps against the softness of your mouth, but it’s plenty.

Plenty to see the blown out pupils and bead of sweat rolling down his neck, his ears and cheeks a dusty pink. Your big brother groans when you brush your thumb over the sticky patch of the fabric and wrap a ring of fingers around him, forcing the covered head to pop into your soft mouth with a loud kissy noise. “I- Fucking hell, get o- oh,” he doesn’t let you stay latched on, tangling his fingers in your hair and holding you away as he shudders, “you wan’it? That makes you feel good, does it?” The pull of your hair feels good though, pussy clenching around nothing again.

“Mhm, being under my big brudder makes me feel good.” You can’t keep yourself from nuzzling into his hand when he releases you to get up onto his knees, and watch as he shoves the boxers down his thick thighs with slower motions than you wish he’d use. It’s a little unfair. Even in the low light, you can see the glossiness of his cockhead, the little trail of hair leading you all the way down to right between muscular legs- and your nails drag down the skin with a needy whine until he rests the heavy tip back onto your lips. Onto your squirming, little tongue.

Hajime’s breathing comes to a halt as you lick up the slit and glance up at him, and move your hand to reach under his cock too. “Mh-niichan? You wanted this, right? for how long?”

His eyes go half lidded as he hums. “Long.”

Another long lick sliding down, your spit coats the bottom of his twitching cock until you’re happily nestled at the base and press kisses down. “Is that why you only watch sister porn?”

He groans your name with a tight grunt, and you can see the way his chest caves. You guess it doesn’t really matter. Worse sins have been committed just tonight than your big brother fondling you in his bed, and pressing you down on his lap. But the way it flushes his neck and makes his eyes narrow is so satisfying, you almost don’t know what to do with yourself when he pushes you away from him to roll you onto your back, long fingers finding your neck. The press scares you for a split second, before the pressure makes way for entirely too much pleasure. “Still a fucking brat.” His olive irises flash as he watches you drop open your mouth again, and pull at his shirt with a moan.

“Take this off~ niichan, please. Please.” His shirt is discarded somewhere next to the bed, before he allows you to place your lips back to the thumping, blood-filled head of his cock and wrap them around it. It feels good, really good— and he tastes like Hajime, slowly starting to rock onto your tongue as his hand tightens in your hair.

“Wan- uhuh, fuck, I want to cum down your throat so bad. Use-m- my little sister’s mouth.” He’s heavy, and thick, and spit gets everywhere as you do your very best to hollow your cheeks around his hard cock each time he pushes a little farther in. But of course you gag when he pushes past your tongue into your tight throat, and grunts out your name. He pulls back to let you take a breath but fucks right back into you, now rocking his hips harder and deeper. You gag, and Hajime hums. “Tch, messy little sister. Good, tho- feels so good-” Your fingers squeeze around the part where you can’t quite reach, other hand on his balls, while spit goes everywhere.

“Fuck, I’m fucking my sister’s mouth, this is- so fucked.” You suck harder, and Hajime’s cock twitches in your mouth. “Uh- love— you, uhuh, that’s a good girl.” Your lips are stretched wide, and your throat burns around the intrusion, but the feeling just makes you so lightheaded. Floating off from the world as he cups your face with two hands and jackhammers into your mouth until you can’t tell up from down. Your muffled, sloppy ‘niichan, niichan’ only makes his shoulders raise higher, abs flexed each time he makes you bottom out around him, each time tears run down your face. Even when you gag and push back against him. “You love your big brother too, right?”

“Mhm,” you’re choking on it and enjoying it, breath flooding your lungs each time he pulls back far enough to let you— before you have to grab his thigh and open your teary eyes to glance up at him. “Niichan, Hajime nii, p-please. Want your cock, i-inside, want to be my big brother’s cockslut, plea~se.”

He hauls you up from him by your shoulders, rolls you onto your back as he stares into your eyes. Pupils blown wide, with the pretty sliver of green, he bites his lip so hard it must hurt. “Why— you keep saying shit like that, thinking I’m not going to react? Stop poking.” His long fingers glide from your shoulder up to your neck again, and squeeze just enough to have you seeing little stars that vanish when you look at them. It feels good. Hajime feels so good. With the light of the moon dusting along his edges, you slowly spread your legs on both sides of his body, and blink.

“Mean it. Mn-gh, nii~chan. Want your cock to fill me up, I wan’it so bad. Want you.” He looks rabid as he dips down to shove a thumb between your lips for you to suck, lingering in that heady feeling. More. You moan it around his finger as he pushes on your tongue, but he’s already distracted with the way you’re peeling your own panties down your legs, and how the stings of slick stretch from the fabric all the way to your gushing cunt. “Pl-uh-ese, nii-dan.” Your lewd sucking of his finger and the way you pull your lower legs around his glutes seems to be too much for him.

“Love ya, Hajime niichan.”

You feel his lips crash to yours before his cock is shoved into you, but it’s the latter that instantly has your arms wrap around his muscular back to cling on. Because he’s thick, heavy, and burning hot inside you. Wetness clicks and squelches as he slides all the way in and swallows up your moan. He pulls out, and slams back in hard enough to make your legs jerk. You feel him in your belly. You feel him in your throat. You feel him in your soul too, as he sucks your tongue and cups your cheek and palms your tits all at once. As he pulls out and hits a spot inside you you didn’t even know about, and fucks you so good it makes your toes curl.

“‘S our secret, okay?” he pants when he pulls back, lifting your legs to your chest. And you’re already nodding your head up and down before he has to ask more, letting out the shakiest whimper.

Your voice is extra sweet when you hum. “Of course. Promise~.”

#iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi x reader #iwa smut #iwa x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #hq smut #iwaizumi hajime #hq x reader #tw.incest #tw.choking #tw.degradation #tw.dark content #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.iwaizumi

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roguerambles · 1 year

Text

Build up and Climax Part 2

Record of Ragnarok - Raiden x Male!Reader

Warnings - NSFW. 18+Only. Adult Situations

I’m not very happy with this one, but its been sitting in my drafts for ages and Raiden deserves more love, so here is my humble offering.

You were faster than you looked.

Raiden had never been one for games, even sexy ones – he liked to get to the hot and heavy, flesh against flesh, thighs around his hips and nails down his back, his partners screaming his name sooner rather than later. Teasing wasn’t his thing.

Still, he’d be lying if he said this little chase, you with your eyes glinting and smile wicked, your body bare to the world, wasn’t seriously getting his blood pumping. You were like one of those nymphs he’d heard of, leading him deeper into the depths of the arena with lustful promises, of him getting his hands on your gorgeous body, feeling you writhing and panting beneath him—

Fuck, he was so turned on.

You darted through a set of doors, and Raiden recognised the corridor leading to his rooms. Excitement thrummed through his body, and he practically knocked the door off its hinges as he rammed his shoulder into them, sending them flying open.

“You took your time.”

You gave him an amused grin, already lain amongst the pile of pillows and blankets on his bed, naked and ready for him, and for a second Raiden thought he might be salivating.

You were so fucking pretty, all over, and he wanted to explore every inch of you. “Well?” You asked airily, your smile sweeter than sin, your thighs parting slightly, invitingly. “What are you waiting for?”

Fuck, he was in love.

Raiden grabbed his belt, roughly pushing it down, letting it fall around his ankles before kicking it sharply aside. He felt himself spring free, a fire sparking in his belly at the way you audibly gasped as your gaze fell below his waist, the way your eyes darkened with hunger. Raiden grinned and advanced towards you, heat searing through his veins, needing to close the gap between you.

He'd never fucked a god before, and he wanted to change that now.

He leapt into the air, intent on pinning you down and ploughing you until you were hoarse from screaming his name. You flashed a coy grin, and in a sharp movement lifted your arm, your palm slamming into his chest. You twisted around, using his momentum to send him crashing onto his back – a move he could have easily out-manoeuvred, in truth, but the sight of you sliding on top of him, perched on his waist, you thighs around his waist, was the sexiest thing he’d seen in a while, so he let it slide.

He reached for you eagerly, already envisioning how good you’d look riding on top of him, when you flashed him a wicked grin. His arms suddenly stopped short, and Raiden glanced up, puzzled, only to see thin strips of rope coiling slowly around his wrists, tugging his arms over his head.

“…huh?”

He tugged, then yanked, then pulled hard, but his wrists remained bound. He looked back up at you, to your pretty, grinning face, and huffed to himself.

…he wasn’t much for games, but it seemed you were.

Raiden looked good in rope.

His spectacular musculature flexed and contracted with every movement, straining against the confines of the slender knots forming around his wrists. They were enchanted enough that even a God would struggle to break free, although you were beginning to wonder if Raiden was strong enough to break free.

Raiden tilted his head, peering up at you, giving his bindings an experimental tug. He was actually pouting. “Come on, pretty boy.” He groaned miserably, his massive body slumping back on the bed. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind…”

You grinned slightly, lightly trailing your fingertips along the thick, powerful muscle of his thigh. Raiden groaned, his thighs parting, his cock springing eagerly to attention—sweet fucking Eros—

You forced your gaze upwards, meeting Raiden’s eyes with a coy, seductive smile. “Oh?” You caressed his thigh firmly, your gut tightening as Raiden groaned happily, his body arching eagerly into your touch. “And what did you have in mind?”

“Untie me and I’ll show you.”

You pretended to think about it, your fingers dancing across his thigh and coiling around his length, stroking slowly up and down. Raiden hissed, his chest heaving as he thrust his hips upwards. “I don’t know…I think I like you as is.”

“Ooh…ooh…fuck, come on, pretty boy, at least use your mouth or something—”

Your fingers danced over his length quick and clever, and Raiden cursed and bucked his hips, hissing through gritted teeth, his eyes darkening with desire as he grinned ferally up at you.

You smiled innocently. “Say please.”

“I fucking love you—”

“You’re sweet.” You slowly stroked across his leaking tip – Raiden whined, his thighs quivering. “Now say please.”

“Please, please, please let me fuck you—”

“Well, that was fast.” You quirked an eyebrow at him. “You gave up that easy?”

“I know what I want.” Raiden was practically vibrating, the muscles of his arms bulging and straining against his bindings.

“And what…” You leaned over him, letting your body rub softly against his, your lips against his jaw. “…do you want?”

Crack—

The posts snapped, wood splintering, but you didn’t care. Raiden’s hands closed around your waist, his grin practically feral as he yanked your hips down, his length sliding between your thighs—

Heat seared through you, so fierce and hard you cried out, your head snapping backwards as pure sensation flooded your senses in a haze of sweet red. Below you, Raiden groaned and growled, his hips rolling and bucking, sliding deeper and deeper into you.

“Fuck.” He cursed between gritted teeth, his muscles flexing and contracting under your fingers, his hands sliding up and down your hips and thighs. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, you feel so good—"

His hands guided you up and down, his thick, powerful thighs flexing beneath you, his head thrown back, moaning and grunting, his abdomen clenching with each thrust. You fell forward, palms splayed on his warm chest, bracing yourself as you rocked your hips in a hard rhythm, making him shout and roar with approval. Your own length rubbed furiously against his lower abdomen, fire spilling in your belly.

“Raiden—” You gasped out, rolling your hips hard and fast, the heat building rapidly from deep within.

“Oh, gods, say my name, say it again—”

Raiden’s hand roughly smacked your rear, making you yelp, your hips stuttering, lightning searing through you. He grinned wildly up at you, eyes blown black with lust. You surged down, crushing your lips to his, teeth and tongue clashing as he moaned, fingers digging into your skin as he bucked into you, over and over—

“Raiden—” Your gut felt hot and tight, something inside pulling taunt, threatening to snap. “Raiden—!”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes—”

Raiden’s release struck with the force of a tidal wave, a roar spilling from his lips from deep within his chest. Fire collided with fire, searing deep in your belly, and a cry spilled from your lips as you bucked against him, your own pleasure overwhelming you.

You lost count of how many times you came together. You had met Gods with less stamina than Raiden seemed to possess, his body hard and hot and contracting, hips thrusting in a seemingly never ending search for release. You were certain half the arena could hear the noises you were making, but it was impossible to care about anything other than Raiden’s hips slamming into you, his hands roaming your body, his mouth hot against your skin, his groans and growls and shouts of pleasure as he filled you so completely. Your bodies became a hazy, heated frenzy of grasping, writhing limbs, fingers raking over flesh, the sheets tangled in your sweaty bodies. At some point bedside table was knocked over, its contents splashing across the floor along with shattered glass, but you were both far too consumed with each other to care.

You were spent, nerves singing from the aftershocks of your final climax, body quivering as Raiden thrust into you from behind, his hands stroking your hips, his face buried in your neck.

“Ah…ah…gods…oh…”

“Raiden.” You breathed his name, fingers absently stroking his wrists. Raiden hissed and his hips stuttered, a quiet roar rumbling from his throat as his release hit, flooding you with blissful heat. He collapsed beside you on the pillows, a huge arm draping over your waist.

“Fuck…” He murmured against your neck. You chuckled vaguely, boneless from pleasure, and leaned back against his glorious chest. He tugged you close, his lips brushing against your shoulder in a surprisingly tender manner.

You tumbled into sleep, Raiden’s warmth at your back.

“There you are!”

A loud voice shook you roughly from sleep. Raiden grumbled something incoherently under his breath, burying his face in your neck, his arm draped over your side. You blinked blearily, tilting your head upwards, catching the sight of a wry grin and blue skin.

“…Lord Shiva?”

“Fucking the enemy during Ragnarok?” Shiva looked thoroughly amused, his lower set of arms crossed loosely in front of him. “Aphrodite might be proud enough she’ll forget to be mad at you.”

You groaned slightly, flopping back against Raiden’s chest, feeling his arms pull more snugly around you. “I thought you were fighting soon?” You mumbled. “Why are you running errands for my mother?”

“Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed…”

“Actually, I’m on a great side of the bed.” You wriggled slightly against Raiden, feeling him stirring beneath you, and you really wanted to focus on that. “Can you just tell her you couldn’t find me?”

Shiva adopted a thoughtful expression, one set of hands on his hips, the others folding behind his head. “You would have me lie for you?” He shook his head, tsking at you, his face morphing into a grin. “For nothing? Such boldness.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head, letting your eyes trail upwards over Shiva’s sculpted abdomen and toned chest, the bulging biceps of his arms – you’d always had a weakness for arms and Shiva had four. “I can make it worth your while.”

“…and your friend there would want that?” Shiva raised an eyebrow questioningly, but you caught the subtle way his eyes slid over you and Raiden both, the unmistakable interest stirring in his gaze. The sight of it send a shiver down your back, the idea of having Raiden and Shiva both at once…

You drove your elbow back into Raiden’s chest, with a little more force than needed. He startled awake with a grunt, his hand gripping your hip. “Hey—! What the fuck…woah—”

He blinked at Shiva a few times, his stupefied expression melting into a lazy grin. “Damn.”

Shiva’s eyebrow arched slightly. “Hello to you too.”

“Does that answer your question?” You stretched out against Raiden, angling your body, the sheets slipping around your hips. “What’s the old saying? Know thy enemy?”

“I don’t think it meant quite like this.” Shiva noted dryly, but his smile told you everything you needed to know. His thumbs hooked around his waistband, tugging until his pants slid down his hips and past his thighs—

“Holy fuck.” Raiden was definitely awake now, his breath quickening and body hardening underneath you, his fingers digging into your hips. “Please say you’re into sharing—”

You laughed, pushing back into Raiden’s chest as Shiva moved onto the bed with cat-like grace, his multiple hands reaching for you and Raiden both as the three of you melted into each other, a tangle of grasping hands and limbs.

“Yes. Very much so.”

#record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok fanfic #record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok x male reader #record of ragnarok raiden x reader #record of ragnarok raiden tameemon x reader #record of ragnarok raiden #record of ragnarok raiden tameemon #ror raiden tameemon #snv raiden x reader #snv raiden #snv raiden tameemon x reader #snv raiden tameemon #snv raiden tameemon x male reader #snv x reader #snv x male reader #ror raiden x reader

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girldreaming · 1 year

Text

cherry waves

subby!abby x reader blurb

porn without plot kind of day >:) abby the deftones princess

summary: sex with abby and she goes all mushy and subby bc i can’t stop thinking about her <3

warnings: nsfw, choking/breath play but mostly hand on throat abby receiving, finger sucky, fingering abby receiving, oral but no description, horny

wc: 1.3k lil shortie

all lowercase and not really proofread

minors go away please I will block you!!

literally no plot just sex under the cut!

“fuck, that feels so good,” abby whines, her right hand leaving its place on your head and going straight to her mouth, teeth biting into the knuckle of her index finger.

for as long as you'd known abby you'd known about her habit of putting things in her mouth, "its like, i dont know, my dad told me it was called an oral fixation, or something, apparently had it since i was a baby," she'd said to you before, when you asked her why she was always nibbling on her fingertips, always biting you - always sinking her teeth into the soft flesh of your thighs, your stomach.

"s' comforting, that's all," she'd smile.

you hum, pushing her thighs apart and they stay, a clear indication you’re beginning to pull out that part of her, the one you only catch glimpses of when you’ve got abby on her back, or on her knees.

she was tired, had just gotten back from a three-day patrol, fresh stitches adorning her arm, blossoms of purple maculating her skin. you'd helped her clean her fingernails, dirt, and blood packed underneath them and encrusted onto her cuticles.

“that was fucking brutal.” she sighed as she walked into your shared space, you waiting for her with tea in the kitchen. she’d looked rough too, her clothes caked with mud and her hair barely kept in the braid you'd done. she was quick to drop her pack and walk over to you, careful not to touch you with her rather grimy hands, leaning her head down to drop a much-needed peck.

it wasn’t long before you'd sent her to the bathroom for a shower, offering to join her but she declined. “you smell like home, don’t you dare.” she’d said, a small "sit with me?" spilling from her lips.

which of course you did, her talking through what she experienced and you glad she couldn’t see your face as it would twist with worry.

but you had her now, you were taking care of her and she was so safe.

“yeah?” you ponder, breath fanning against her core. It always made you feel so powerful when she got this way, gave you an idea of how she must feel all the time.

made fucking sense with the ego she seems to have.

All she can do in response is nod, not a shut up or fuck you. a gentle, slow nod. Her eyebrows are so raised, so furrowed it looks like she's about to start crying.

“abby, it’s okay.” you whisper, your free hand running up the length of her stomach to take her hand out of her mouth, replacing it with your thumb. her spit wet fingers clasp around your wrist, keeping your thumb in her mouth, tongue swirling against the pad of it, teeth just grazing the tip of your nail.

the feeling of her groaning against your own flesh goes straight to the pit of your stomach, a small sound making its way out of you in response. the vibration alone enough to make you feel like you were floating.

abby pulls your hand down, fingers sitting atop yours as she places your hand on her throat, in order to reach, you take your mouth off of her slit, fingers still working their way in and out.

you get up from your own position and push your weight up onto your knees, kneeling in between her own, your body slightly leaning over hers.

can't get over how good she looks right now, how well she’s taking your fingers, your hand on her throat. her eyes big and wide and her wet hair in pieces sticking to her forehead.

“you look so pretty, abs.” you breathe and her eyes close, creases and wrinkles replacing the blue you’re used to.

“so pretty when i fuck the words outta you, huh?” you add, testing your luck.

she laughs, the sound muffled by the hand on her throat. the sound is so low and long, her body shaking softly from the force of it.

“think i like you better with your mouth on my cunt, big shot.” she chuckles, her eyes unscrewing, a smile replacing the lust-driven frown she always got. it's nice to know she was still in there somewhere.

“cant be mean now, i know you’re close, can barely move my fingers.” you just can’t seem to stop hitting the squishy pad of tissue buried inside of her, your hooked fingers relentlessly pressing and prodding. a squeeze here and there, she liked that didn’t she.

“fuck yes.” her head tilts back, thighs wanting so badly to squeeze around your forearm. you begin to move your hand off of her throat, wanting to put your mouth back on her as well but you’re shocked when her hand grips yours, tightening your hold.

“don’t, gonna cum like this.” she’s nodding again, eyes opened slightly, looking down at you but unwilling to make direct eye contact. this was definitely a first, you thought. abby always begged you for your mouth, always needed something on her clit to cum.

then you realize, she’s looking at your fingers, mouth agape. she’s in awe at the sight of them, the only noises bouncing off the walls being abby’s stuttered breathing and the wetness your fingers keep fucking in and out of her.

“please,” she whimpers, hand leaving yours on her throat and going to her inner thigh, pinching and grabbing at the skin there, trying to keep her own legs open. she’s still looking at your glistening fingers working into her, eyes drifting up your forearm to your chest, and finally your face.

your hand leaves her throat then, pressing into the belly of her stomach, feeling her abs tense. you were trying to hold her down, knowing the way her hips would soon be bucking. you pick up one of your knees, placing it on top of her thigh, not enough to hurt but enough for her to feel it if she tried to squirm, your other knee spreading her legs wider.

“i want it, abs, want you to come,” you reassure her and she groans, hips rocking against your fingers despite your hand pressing them down.

“been so good.” she whines, eyes fluttering up towards yours.

don’t know about that, you thought, but fuck, you didn’t want to ruin her moment.

you nod at her, thumb starting to rub at her clit.

“so good, mouse.” you lie, feeling her body tense and your fingers get squished as her walls contract, her breathing picking up into whimpers that swell into moans, her eyes leaving yours as her head tilts back, hand shooting to your wrist, holding it still.

you don’t know where the nickname came from if it was because of her mousy blonde hair, the quiet nature she had when you first met her, or the way she was everywhere all the time. her tendency to steal your food, waiting around so she could have whatever was left. she was simply - in spirit - similar to a mouse.

your thumbs slow their circles, but her chest continues to heave, bicep coming up to cover her face, wipe the sweat, you’re not really sure. your fingers leave her, her hand retreating up to her chest, palm resting against her heart. her damp towel still sits on the bed, and you grab it to wipe your hand off, abby's eyes following your every movement.

“fuck.” she pants, blinking a few times.

you rub at her thighs, trying to get her to relax by drawing circles, watching her breathing slow.

“hmm, c’mere,” she manages, motioning you over to her with her hands.

she pulls you into her chest, both of you bare and warm and frankly, a bit sticky. it’s quiet for a moment, her arms wrapping you up into her and her lips sloppily kissing your head.

“you okay?” you whisper into her chest.

“i’m good, baby.” she says back into your ear. you pull yourself up, supported by your elbows so your stomach is on top of hers, planting a soft kiss to her lips. her hand goes to your jaw, pulling you back in.

“be better if you were sitting on my face though.” she doesn’t miss a beat.

#abby anderson #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson smut #tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fic #abby anderson x reader smut #abby anderson x reader

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