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buckyalpine · 10 months

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Bucky feral over pregnant reader

Pure pregnancy fluff and filth. This was meant to be pure fluff and then as usual, I got carried away, idk why I decided to make it this dirty.

I can’t get over Bucky being obsessed with you carrying his baby. Yes he’s excited to be a dad but there’s something about the fact that it’s you. You’re pregnant because of him, it’s his little one in your perfect belly. Every tiny change he notices in your body makes him swoon from, from your swollen achy feet to your tender breasts, and your slightly plumper cheeks.

He fucking loves it.

Your his baby mama and nothing else matters, he’s so proud and in love with you. The swell of your tummy makes his heart beat faster, and the more it grows, the more irresistible he finds you.

“You’re carrying my baby” he coos, wrapping his hands around your tummy while you stand in the kitchen grabbing a snack. He’s happy to cradle the little bump in his arms, easing some of the tension from your back, doing anything to help you feel better. He’s such a lovesick puppy, always looking at you with heart eyes and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team.

“Look, he’s going it again” Sam whispered to Steve, the both of them watching Bucky watching you flit around the kitchen with his chin resting on his hands, sighing, enamored with how pretty you are with your cute little waddle.

“Does he plan on moving any time soon?”

“Nope”

Bucky is so busy admiring you, he doesn’t realize the team has started timing records for how long he just sits and watches because they find it utterly and disgustingly adorable.

He wants to make love to you the entire time, every hour if possible but mama also needs her rest so he doesn’t try to tire you out. That doesn’t mean he keeps his hands to himself, especially when you’re extra hormonal and needy.

“I got you, mama” He soothes you, pulling your soaked cotton panties off and pulling up your oversized shirt over your belly, his hands gently holding onto your hips and he pushes himself inside. He loves this position with your thighs spread apart, belly on full display, watching your face contort with pleasure, watching his cock thrust in and out of your dripping cunt.

It takes everything in him not to cum instantly, fucking his pretty, very pregnant girl, knowing he knocked her up, it’s his cum that has her all round and perfect, their love making that’s giving him a family.

“Fuck mama, m’gonna cum” He can’t help the whine and whimper of his voice, muscles tensed from trying to hold back but he can’t, your body is so warm and soft, “S’too much, balls feel to heavy, you make my cock so sensitive, s’all fucked up, I can’t-f-fuuckk” His hips stutter and he’s spilling ropes of his creamy spend into you, already thinking of getting you pregnant immediately after.

He can’t resist you even when you’re asleep.

“Jamie” you whine, your futile protests turning into a needy moan when you feel his tongue brush over your clit, his head between your legs, the time on the clock 1:15AM.

“Please mama? Wanna make you feel good pretty baby, you deserve it” He just had to get a taste and he doesn’t relent till his beard is soaked and your a shaky, trembling mess. He suckles and nurses off your clit like it’s keeping him alive, pumping his fingers in and out of you till your eyes roll all the way back and your voice is cracking from screaming.

Your pregnancy has made him down right filthy and feral. Like when you finished up your shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel that barely covered anything. Bucky was sitting on the bed with a book in his hands, the story now long forgotten when he sees you sitting by the vanity, applying your lotion. You let the towel drop to the floor, now bare naked while rubbing silky cream onto your sensitive skin.

“Fuck, y’can’t do that doll” Bucky groans, his eyes trailing to your peaked buds down to your stretch marks and plush thighs, the soft rolls of your back making him feral, something he desperately wants to grab and squeeze them in his hands. “Let me help you, mama”

He’s about to set his book down but you can’t help but tease him, shaking your head instead.

“Y’know I can do this myself baby, I need to move around, doctors orders”

He knows you’re right but that doesn’t stop all his blood rushing down to his now aching cock, screaming for attention. He palms himself, hoping it’d be enough to calm down but nope. You start to massage your swollen breasts, the smirk on your face shows you know what your doing. His cock ends up in his hand, book thrown aside, chest heaving up and down.

“Fuck, m’so hard” He moans, stroking himself while you giggle, continuing with your routine. “S’not fair babygirl, makes my cock hurt when you look so pretty like that”

He’s careful to use slow, languid strokes because any tighter and he’d cum all over his fist. At some point his metal hand cups his balls because his body feels too hot and they’re so fucking full. He could cum just from watching you but he’s more greedy than ever.

“Mama. c’mere, please” he pleads with glassy eyes between moans, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Need something Jamie?” You coo, your perfect naked form causing spurts of precum to shoot from his tip while you saunter over to him, removing his hand from his cock and pulling him to stand up. He’s about to ask what you’re doing, stuttering when you bite your lip.

“Oh god, fuck, no, you-you can’t-” He chokes out while you sink to your knees, taking the head of his cock in your mouth, swirling your tongue around. He sobs at how angelic you look, your breasts heavier than ever, tummy nearly touching the floor. You’re a whole Goddess, on your knees, sucking his dick, pregnant with his baby, Bucky swears he’s died and gone to heaven.

“Fuck, A-angel, don’t do this to me, m’gonna cum so much, feels too good, you’re so pretty” He cups your cheeks with softly, whining when you pull of him with a pop, his arousal making your lips and chin glossy, dribbling down your neck.

“Go on daddy, mark me” You smirk while he furiously jerks his cock above your face, cursing under his breath, his cock swelling in his fist. He feels his balls pull tight to his body, his heavy length leaking and already dripping on your face.

“OH GOD” He nearly roars, coating your entire face with his warm, sticky spend. “FUCK YES” he lets the last few drops fall onto your belly, your body perfectly covered in him. He kisses it all off with sloppy kisses, hard again with him minutes, this time filling your perfect pussy up instead.

By the time he’s done, you need to shower again anyway, which he’s perfectly happy with, this time excited to join you.

“C’mon mama, lets get you cleaned up again”

Sorry.

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flametrashiraarchive · 10 months

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hi! i wanted to ask if you’re able to write any nsfw douma head cannons? it’s totally okay if you’re not able to :^)

*punches the air with both fists*

YESSS!

I hope this is okay. There's a warning near the end because the last part is about menstruation and him being fond of it and yeah... maybe you don't want to read that.

NSFW under the cut. Also mild spoilers for Douma's canonical personality.

DOUMA x reader NSFW headcanons

He enjoys sex greatly as a prelude to dinner.

It helps tenderize the meat.

But he doesn't cum. Ever. The physical sensation is pleasant but empty.

Doesn't masturbate.

Until he meets you.

Douma has been complimented on his beauty all his life; it's expected at this point, but you're the first person he's met who compliments him with actions rather than words.

When you lean against him for comfort? When you ask how he's feeling when he's just sitting, staring into space? When you ask him to keep talking and discuss more than just mundane things??

Yes, he'll keep you around. You interest him.

You're also genuinely nice to him, and not for the promise of eternal paradise. You just... like him. He's not used to that.

When he confesses he's a demon and you just accept it? You don't scream and run away? You're his now.

People hunt and eat rabbits and keep bunnies as pets.

You're his soft little bunny and he so loves to play with you.

Will absolutely initiate tickle fights. Wins every time. (he's not even ticklish, he's just a menace.)

Kisses your nose when you're mad at him.

Fucks you against the wall (sometimes halfway up it)

He leaves marks every time you fuck.

Man's a biter.

Hickey king.

He wants everyone to know you're his. If you wear his marks proudly he'll pop a boner every time he sees you.

Coos over you when you get overstimulated. Finds it adorable and pretty funny when you're cockdrunk and fucked out.

Yes, you've fucked on that giant pillow he sits on for sermons.

Actually, you've fucked on every square inch of the temple.

Including the ceiling. it was your birthday, he wanted to make it special.

He is a big boy.

Likes when you sit in his lap and bounce on him. Puts his face in your tits and can't stop smiling.

Giggles when he makes you cum.

You discover together that he has very sensitive nipples. He whimpers the first time you flick one with your tongue.

HE FELT SOMETHING!!

"Do it again, pet..."

By the end of it he's a blushing mess. One more touch and he'll lose his mind. He needs... he needs...

He pulls you onto him, grips your hips and uses his strength to drive you up and down on him. You're his fleshlight now. He's done when he's done.

whimpers.

The first time he cums it's a jumpscare for him.

THAT'S WHAT IT FEELS LIKE?

I see I see... let's do it again.

From that day on it becomes about how much mess the pair of you can make.

One day it occurs to him that his heart flutters whenever you're near.

Wants to turn you into a demon so you can be with him for eternity. Gets off on you being his helpless little human pet... why must life be so cruel?

WARNING: go no further unless you're okay with sex and cunnilingus during menstruation

Oh my oh my. When you bleed he's a whole new level of feral.

He will live between your thighs that entire week just... lapping it up.

It's nutritious and it's you. He loves it.

Fucking lies there on his belly, kicking his feet and fingering you so he can lick his fingers clean.

"Orgasms help with cramps, pet." he bats his eyelashes and smiles like he's only doing this for your benefit.

Man's a menace.

#douma #douma my beloved #kny doma #kny douma #douma x reader #douma x y/n #douma smut #douma kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu douma

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xthescarletbitch · 3 months

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bg3 ladies giving the strap (x reader)

18+, minors do NOT interact

cw: afab!reader!receiving said strap-on (i could not figure out how i wanted to write otherwise, i'm sorry)

word count: 700+

author’s note: proofread? don’t be silly! these are just my goofy little thoughts that hit as i was playing the game and thinking about fucking the ladies i just wrote about. @happysparklingshadows got to this idea first, so please go give her the attention she deserves (it’s delicious). <3

lae'zel

lae'zel starts rough

(but don’t worry, she’ll get you completely ready and wet first ;))

and then she’ll end off even rougher

i swear it’s like she wants to break you in half

she has to slam into you at such an unforgiving pace

the strength stat does not lie!!

i also think she’s a big fan of watching your face, and pussy, as it takes her strap

moaning and groaning, watching it split you open, as well as your face of pure bliss

that kind of reaction makes her want to pound even harder

she also thinks it’s an excellent workout, and that’s why she won’t do it half-assed

she just wants a big orgasm from the both of you, and she will get it

one thing about lae'zel is that she is devoted!!

there will be marks if you’re into that

sources of each other’s bruises, you know

minthara

minthara would give you time to adjust, sure, but she can be so impatient

she’ll start rubbing your clit to get things moving (and most likely continue to do so)

once you’re ready to take her even more, that’s when she’d get rougher

her stroke game is something else

rolling her hips into yours, wanting to get as deep as she can each time

she may even put your legs over her shoulders so she can get even deeper

and she will not be going slowly, either

just imagine her grunting as she ruts into you, not even giving either of you a break to catch your breath

i also think she’s a massive fan of seeing your eyes roll

or honestly just the overall being so consumed by the pleasure that your face says it all

she’ll hold your hands above your head as she pounds away, looking for the telltale sign that she’s doing a good job

and while going fast and deep is a favourite, she’ll know what your body needs

oh, and if double-sided dildos are a thing, just know she’d be using that

shadowheart

shadowheart seems like she’d be so gentle with it

she would want to give you all the time to adjust, no matter the size

her strap would go in slowly with her eyes watching your face intently to ensure she’s doing alright as she gets even deeper

she would definitely be careful about her thrusts, pulling out slowly and then keeping the same pace back in

(she’ll still go deep, though)

(bottoms out every time she enters you)

the feeling of the strap’s base against her own clit drives her insane, though

and she’ll chase that feeling

so, maybe she’ll get a little bit rougher to get off herself, but nothing too strenuous

i think she’s a bit scared of hurting you, even if she knows you could take it harder

at the same time, she doesn’t know if she could take it any harder

i feel like she’d be pretty sensitive, but that’s okay

she makes up for it with the fact that she can scope out your body well, knowing which spot makes you shiver

even when she’s nice and gentle, she’ll constantly be hitting that bullseye

karlach

karlach is another softie i fear

don’t get me wrong, finally being able to put her hands on you makes her go feral

but she also wants to be as tender as she can be

she appreciates the slow love-making sessions where she can just consume you for as long as she can before it’s time to go back out

slowly bottoming out inside of you and then immediately running her hands along your sides, up to your breasts, and then to your face

she just adds so much intimacy to the moment by wanting to feel, and kiss, all of you

she is all about skin-to-skin contact as she’s thrusting away

i also think she’s a fan of the sounds—particularly her strap exiting and entering your sopping hole

“hear that, soldier?”

she’ll say as she pulls out slowly and then slams it back into you

she’ll repeat the pattern until she’s gotten off herself

(which does not take long)

but do not worry!!

karlach is all about multiple rounds

as many as you can take :)

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rowarn · 8 months

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I’m so happy i found your blog ;___; your soft simon/konig are literally a breath of fresh air like the other anon said😍💕 you write them so well and so tender and caring, they’re literally dream men tbh😮‍💨💕 what are yiur thoughts on how they’d be w a reader whose inexperienced?? both when it comes to intimacy and love in general (im thinking of a feral and skittish cat 🐈‍⬛ who mistrusts every approach and touch and backs away 😭) i always read abiut these men when they’re w a reader who is very sure of her self/sexuality and confidently engages w them (and don’t get me wrong i love reading it regardless!) but what abour when reader has no clue how to act/what to do and is kinda ashamed about it bc she doesn’t want to let her partner down bc she still possesses the v card🥴

(im totally not projecting 😭🙊 btw it’s totally fine if you don’t want to answer this!! wouldn’t want to overwhelm or cross any limits!)

HI MY LOVE IM GLAD UR ENJOYING MY STUFF!!!

hmmm i think both simon and könig wouldn't actually rlly say anything about sex unless you brought it up.

simons very perceptive, he can tell that you're a little shy and skittish about anything too intimate so he keeps his touches pg and simply follows your lead. he lets you guide the pace and he won't bring up getting his dick wet unless you do first.

if he catches on that you may actually want to properly discuss it (even if u don't flat out say it, again he can tell if somethings on your mind <3) then he'll be SO patient and soft with you as he listens. if you're embarrassed or scared, he'll do his best to reassure you that he's not some bumbling idiot who doesn't know how to make it feel good. and he's also not the type to really care about the idea of virginity. doesn't matter to him; he'll guide you and teach you everything snd he'll be so careful and sweet with you, you don't need to worry. he's not great with words but he does his best to get his thoughts across to put you at ease!!

könig wont bring it up bc he's kind of nervous. his thoughts sort of race when he doesn't get a black and white answer so when he notices you're a little skittish about him touching you, he goes thru 400 different reasons why and doesn't want to ask and scare u off by thinking he's some sex obsessed maniac (he's a pro at catastrophizing!!!)

will not ever bring it up avtually, you definitely will have to sit him down and spell out your thoughts to him. he'll noticeable relax in relief when he realizes you're not scared of him you're just....embarrassed?

unlike simon, he is pretty good with words. he blunt and gets straight to the point. he'll tell you that he's...big....everywhere and that he knows how to prep you so it won't hurt and that he would be SO careful if u felt like you were ready. he also assures you that it's nothing to be embarrassed about. contrary to simon, he does understand that some people view their virginity as something special and that if u want he can make it a rlly romantic evening for u!! it's up to u!!! just tell him what u want and he will follow your lead without a single thought <3

overall, simon isn't rlly the type to just jump into bed unless he gets the idea that you CLEARLY want to have sex with him. he's had his fair share of bedmates and he will definitely be able to pick up on any flirting. if he thinks you might not want to have sex, he wont say anything. he's a grown man who doesn't need to get his dick wet (: he's got his hand (yum) <3

and könig is.....könig. he's just happy to be here <3

I HOPE I ANSWERED UR QUESTIONS!!!!!

#ask #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #könig x reader #konig x reader #cod smut #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #könig smut #konig smut

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johnwickb1tsch · 3 months

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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 13 all chapters

-Later that evening he picks you up near your hostel in a gorgeous wooden water taxi. You’d gotten more than a few odd looks from the scruffy backpackers hanging out in the courtyard, as you’d exited in your chic new dress and heels. You wonder if you look utterly ridiculous, until you see the way John looks at you. There is a heat in his dark eyes that could burn the city down, and you flush all over, knowing the evening hasn’t even begun and you’ve already soaked through your new silk panties.

He waves away the driver, lifting you down by your waist into the boat. It surprises you, and you cling to him, though you never feel for a second that he might drop you. The strength in his arms is unyielding as an oak.

He’s changed into a black suit for the evening, and he’s so fucking handsome you could die. When you’re settled in the bench seat in the back of the boat he lifts his arm for you in invitation, and you nestle in. The night air is a little chilly once the boat gets going, but you are pressed to the long lean length of John’s side, and he keeps you warm. He drives you a little crazy, drawing slow circles with his fingertips on your bare arm.

You go to dinner, and it’s everything you’d hoped and feared. The light is low, the food is delectable, the wine is good, and Mr. Wick is the very picture of dark temptation in the candlelight. He is charming, and sweet, and he touches your fingertips lightly with his from across the table. You always knew he had a wry sense of humor, but loosened up with an aperitivo, he is downright funny, and you find yourself laughing at his comments with purest joy.

You brought that leather-bound notebook from Florence in your new little handbag. When you present it to John he cradles it in his big hands like you have gifted him with something made of pure gold, his dark eyes shining like high-polished mahogany. He looks at you with a tenderness that makes your knees weak, and you are glad you are already sitting down.

“I know it’s not much…” You feel a little sheepish suddenly, thinking about what he spent on you earlier that day.

“I love it,” he assures you adamantly, and tucks it into his inside pocket, where it will rest over his heart. “Thank you.” He reaches for your hands across the table again, and as if you weren’t gone enough already, you feel yourself steadily, inexorably, falling in love with this man.

Afterwards you go for a walk. He smiles down at you, amused when you stumble on a raised cobblestone, steadying you with an arm around your waist.

“I think you are a bit drunk, Miss y/n,” he teases you.

You like wine, but you don’t drink it often. You’d had half a bottle with dinner, plus a negroni aperitivo, and a digestivo of grappa after dessert… Yes. Yes you are, and maybe it will hurt in the morning, but right now it feels wonderful.

“And whose fault is that?” you fire back with an insouciant smile, winning real laughter. The rare sound warms you to the bottom of your soul.

“Guilty.” He’d ordered the drinks, after all.

There is a mischievous sparkle in his jet-black eyes, and you think maybe he’s a bit drunk too. Or maybe it’s just this fucking country, that’s so goddamn romantic. You’re not sure why that annoys you in that moment.

You pause on a bridge, and he reaches up to lightly touch your hair, sweeping it behind your ear, tracing the curve of your neck. It’s almost like he’s petting you, and you cannot help but close your eyes.

Is this man finally going to kiss you?

A small, feral sound escapes you with the thought, and you are too tipsy to be embarrassed about it. It makes him smile knowingly, and now you think he might actually have an inkling of what he’s been doing to you.

You do not know it, but over your shoulder, John sees a suspicious shadow move in an enclave in the distance. He does not like the look of it at all.

“I should probably get you back to your hostel.”

You stick your lips out in a pout, mildly infuriated and currently lacking any healthy inhibitions.

“Are you really going to make me tell you how much I want you, Mr. Wick?” What an effective truth serum a good chianti makes. Your hands find his tie, pulling him closer towards you. He lets you, of course, until your bodies are nearly pressed in a line.

It’s almost enough, but not quite. Never quite, it seems.

He lowers his forehead to rest on the top of your head, and you sense that he is coiled tight as a spring, practically vibrating with the effort of holding himself back. You can feel it in his hands on your sides, as though he can’t decide if he should pull you closer, or push you away.

“Do you?” he asks, his voice gone low.

“As if you don’t already know,” you grouse petulantly. There is a part of you deep down that knows, as you look up at him, that you are pulling the tail of a tiger. You just don’t possess the self-control at the moment to stop.

He narrows his eyes at you. “It’s hard to read you,” he confesses in a rare moment of vulnerability, which you find utterly absurd.

“Hard to read me? Mr. Tall Dark and Broody? Mr. Hot and Cold? Mr. I’ll Take You Out On My Bike For The Ride of Your Life on Your Birthday Then Barely Speak To You?”

Again, he laughs, though this time there is an edge to it. He frames your face in his big hands, and you know he could crush you if he wanted, but you still cannot suppress a sigh. You crave the strength in those hands on you with every fibre of your being.

You’d let him pull you apart, so long as he promises to put you back together again.

“Sweet girl…my love is a curse. I don't want to hurt you—but I don’t think I’m strong enough to let you go.”

It almost sounds like a warning.

You pause at that, listening to your heartbeat pounding in your ears. There is a hint of darkness in that sentiment that would have scared you a little, had you been in your right mind. As it is…you are too far gone, and you are desperate to have it all out at last.

“Are you talking about your wife?” you dare ask, your voice hushed as though she could overhear you. Maybe she can. Maybe her spectre would have the mercy to let this man who still walks among the living go. “John…she got sick, and that is not your fault. You can't blame yourself for that.”

He just shakes his head slowly against you, his long fingers sliding into your hair, tightening at the base of your skull.

“You don't understand.”

He has you firmly in his grasp, and it sends the most delicious thrill down your spine, right to your loins. You can’t help but squirm against him, closing that distance at last. The line of heat between your bodies pressed is maddening, and you marvel that you can think at all.

“I'm trying to.”

“I know.” There’s something in his tone that cracks your heart in two, and you find you are afraid. You’re afraid that he still might backpedal on you after all, after all this, and you’re not sure your heart will survive it.

“Please don’t let me go?”

He tilts your head back, in full control of you. You do not fight him, too entranced by his mouth hovering over yours.

“Remember that you asked.”

You don’t get the chance to formulate a response, because at last his mouth presses to yours, and you forget everything but the feeling of his soft lips and the tantalizing intrusion of his tongue. You would have surged to meet him, but he holds you immobile in his strong hands, taking you just the way he wants you. Yet you are a greedy thing, and your fingers seek the flat planes of his chest, running over the muscled contours beneath his jacket, up the column of his neck to grab fistfuls of his soft hair, the way you’ve craved practically since the first time you laid eyes on him.

You fancy you almost hear it snap, when at last you manage to break this man’s iron-clad self-control.

Or perhaps it is you, your fragile body, that makes an audible pop when he grabs you up in those strong arms, his fingers digging into your waist as he practically lifts you from the ground in the desperation his ardor. You meet the fury of his kiss with a matching passion, with lips and teeth and tongue, so caught up in the whirlwind that you entirely forget where you are, that you’re in public, that you’re probably not alone. The focus of your world narrows to the single pinpoint that is him, and maybe it’s been that way for you for a while now.

It’s over all too soon, when he tears himself away, breathing heavily in the bend of your neck. You make a small sound of protest, needy for more of his delectable mouth, and he nips your shoulder, maybe hard enough to bruise. You jump with surprise, but you don’t exactly mind the feeling of his teeth in your skin, as though you are something sweet he wishes to devour.

In that moment you reckon you would let him eat you whole, and lick the bones clean.

You are aware of it this time, when he lifts his head to look beyond you, his hawkish gaze sweeping the shadows beyond. It seems like he’s worried about something. But you are wrapped up in his arms, tucked perfectly against his larger body like you are puzzle pieces finally found—you feel as though nothing could possibly touch you.

“I should get you back,” he says, his voice pure gravel.

“I don’t want—”

“Don't fight me, y/n.”

He uses a tone of voice you've never heard from him before. It is hard as granite, utterly forbidding, and your blood turns to ice in your veins. Feeling this change in you, he sighs and kisses your forehead in apology. “Come on.”

Slightly comforted, you let him lead you with your hand in his, though you still feel more than a little unbalanced, and not because of the height of your heels on the uneven paving stones, or the tremor in your limbs from that hurricane of a kiss.

This man…

You are not sure what unsettles you more. The whiplash of his mood, or the fact that you’re not sure you wouldn’t follow him to the depths of Hell anyway, so long as he held out his hand to you.

#here it is lovelies <3 #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #john wick fic #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves #bittersweet john wick imagine #john wick imagine #yandere john wick x you #yandere! john wick #yandere #yandere john wick

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kissitbttr · 5 months

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can’t stop thinking about simon falling for harley quinn reader typa beat

it’s a slow burn for sure, definitely not love at first right because he hates her guts the first time price introduced her during debrief session. she's fucking deranged. has murdered countless of innocent people before and not to mention shoplifting?? like why would price think it'd be a good idea to have her as a temporary addition to tf141? this woman is a criminal. he hates how cheery and giddy she is, always waving her hand to greet the team, acting like she hadn’t done some very questionable things, dropping offhanded comments that makes him choke in his own spit, parading herself in short black and red outfits that barely covers her ass and chest EVEN during the mission. it annoys him to the fucking bone.

but then as time slowly goes by, he begins to warm up to her existence. he’s starting to care about her well-being, putting a mental note on what she likes and dislikes, stealing glances at her way to see if she’s comfortable ever so often. he notices how she carries a red lipstick wherever she goes. black if she’s not feeling herself. his lips often twitches into a small smile whenever she does something cute to him and always always making sure she's okay during every single mission. ‘you okay, love?’ or ‘tell me if something’s bothering you, yeah?’ is what he always says. sometimes when the team has to split up, he’d be the first one to say ‘she’s with me’ and it makes her heart warms.

he's amazed at how well she handles rifles, all while looking and acting pretty. (he finds her adorable overtime too but he'd die before admitting that to her). when he lent her his signature AAC Honey Badger, he was impressed by how smoothly she used it, but nothing beats the way she kills enemies with her pink oversized mallet.

‘i can kill them in five, boys ! just give me a sec’ is what she says in a cheerful tone with a giggle after price had notified that there’s too much guards for them to handle. before price could even protest, she already loaded up her gun and walk towards where the guards are. it was something ghost had never found so attractive before but the way she said it? the confidence? her strutting like she owns the shit? considered him rock hard at that point.

before she goes, she tells the boys to wait while she does her thing. but not before sending a wink to ghost’s direction. she has a spot for him, she makes sure he knows that.

the team watch her gracefully killing the enemies through the cameras. small splash of blood painted her face as she smiles up at the camera to give the boys a small wave. she then jumps to one of the guard and put them in a headlock, suffocating him with her thighs to crack his neck in one swift motion (oh he’d do anything to let her do that to him)

‘fucking hell… look at this lass go’ soap tsked, others agreed. especially simon. this is the first time he had found a woman looking incredibly sexy and sophisticated while blowing someone's head off. it’s almost impossible a woman like her actually exists.

so the moment he hears her being held captured by the enemies, his blood runs cold. ghost. goes fucking. BALLISTIC. like 100% feral, no one could stop this man from tearing down the whole fucking sky to save her. so he makes up a plan to save her with the team. from there, add this scene while we're on it. safe to say she was truly moved by it.

‘oh… you were actually going to save me?’ she asks giving him her puppy dog eyes,

he grumbled while nodding sheepishly, his grip around the rifle tighten. ‘yeah.. and it was a pretty damn good plan too’

‘i’m sorry... well, i can go back in again if you still want to do it..’ her voice coming out soft and tender,

he smiles softly underneath the mask. even with dried up blood decorating her nose and the corner of her lips, he still finds her beautiful,

mentally ill but beautiful.

‘no—no that’s okay. ‘m just glad you’re safe, sweetheart’

he finds being with her is easy. just as easy as breathing. his once cold heart now softened because of her. and it is reserved only for her

i’m a firm believer that ghost is into batshit crazy women he can’t fix

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader

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ceruleancattail · 4 months

Note

*climbs up from the pits of flaming torturous despair*

HELLO GOOD FELLOW, MAY I HUMBLY REQUEST SOME YANDERE ROOK HUNT PLEASE??? PERHAPS “A HUNT” PER SE, THAT COULD BE AN INTERESTING CONCEPT!!! AU REVOIR!!!

*sinks back down*

Cruel

Yandere Rook x reader

Tw: yandere, suffocation, mentions of vomit and gore

You could feel the grime right under your nails.

Little pieces of dirt and soil jutting deep into the tender skin of your fingertips, staining them a dark, deep earthy brown. They ached, a dull sensation that gnawed away at your very soul.

The pain sank its fangs into your palm, all those little fragments cutting deep as you clawed at the ground. Digging your hands deep into the earth, forcing yourself forward inch by inch. Crawling across the ground like some pitiable insect, ready to be trampled underfoot by some unaware foot.

In hindsight, you would have been better off that way. If only you were insignificant enough to be crushed, unnoticeable to the masses. Feeble enough to be ignored by him.

Unfortunately, you’ve managed to catch the eye of a rather skilled hunter. For all you run, you’ll never truly escape him. Rook’s rather proud of his eyesight, after all.

It’ll be a shame if the word got out about his prey escaping his grasp.

The rustling of foliage. The unmistakable crunch of dried leaves, crushed underfoot. Spitting out a curse, you ceased all movement. Rook was more than capable of moving silently through the woods.

Him making noise was a taunt, directed towards you. A smug, accursed way of announcing that the hunt was over.

He won.

Gulping back the nausea lapping at the back of your throat, you froze on the spot. Forcing your limbs to go limp, flopping pathetically onto the ground. Fighting the urge to shiver, steeling your veins.

Desperately wishing for your heart to slow, that deafening pounding drowning out every coherent thought in your mind. All there were was grabbled instincts howling away, demanding to be heard.

“I’m scared.” “It hurts.” “Get me out of here.”

“Oh, ma beauté! Just how wonderful you look!”

At the sound of that ever so familiar chirp, all you thought of was:

“Run.”

It took all your willpower not to scramble onto your feet in a last-ditch attempt to flee the scene. Instead, your teeth sunk deep into the flesh of your lips, letting a sickeningly sweet metallic taste drip onto your tongue.

Stay. Still.

“You gave me quite the chase for that one! I was almost afraid I lost you for good, ma cherie.”

His voice was coated with concern, every single letter dripping into your ears with a hiss. Rook’s voice was acidic, corroding every crevice of your ears. For all the wonderful pet names he comes up with for you, that’s all they are.

Empty, meaningless names for a mere pet. A creature to care for, a creature to control.

Even without looking up, you could picture Rook’s patronising smirk with crystal clarity in your mind. The way it leans onto the side, twitching with amusement… it made you sick.

You could feel the leather of his gloves on your skin, trailing upwards the length of your body. Two fingers slipped right beside your throat, pressing gingerly against its side. Measuring your pulse.

Rook taps lightly against your neck, humming to himself softly.

“You’re still breathing, mon bien-aimé. Why do you not speak?”

A weight pressed against the nape of your neck, his fingers digging a little more firmly into the flesh of your throat, pressing onto it with just a little more force. Not enough to totally cut off your breathing, but enough to make your lungs burn, collapsing into themselves. Your breaths grow so much more frantic, so much more desperate as you pant, desperate for air.

Your fingers reach for his own, clawing at them like some feral beast. Yet even with all your strength, the most you could do was to blindly bat at his hands. Your vision blurred, your surroundings swarmed by black splotchy dots, determined to mare your vision.

Something warm flowed from your lips, the putrid smell flooding your nostrils. Your own spittle, mixing with the heavy, stiffening stench of freshly upturned dirt.

In the midst of all your suffering, you could vaguely hear Rook’s chuckle. Light and airy, as if you two were having a casual chat at some cafe instead of him strangling you.

“How does that feel, chérie? It hurts, doesn’t it?”

Rook doesn’t even bother waiting for you to answer, before he continues.

“That’s how I feel, when you ignore me like that. It hurts, so very much. Like a someone has driven a stake into my heart, and left the rust to fester.

Don’t you think that’s so cruel?”

Laughing to himself, Rook finally loosens his hold. Leaving you to collapse onto the ground, chest heaving heavily. Your lungs scramble, gathering up as much air as your windpipe would allow, to replace all the oxygen squeezed out by Rook’s own two cruel hands.

“Ah, you’re lucky you’ve enchanted me, darling. I do spoil you terribly much.”

Taking a knee, Rook lowers himself to your eye level. Raising his hand towards his lips, teeth gingerly biting down on the very edge of his glove. A pause, before he pulls it off in one fluid motion.

His bare hand reaches for your chin, tilting it upwards as gently as he could.

“Now, what do we say when someone’s nice to you?”

His nails dig into your flesh. A silent warning.

Speak.

Choking back a sob, you stutter:

“T… thank you. Thank you… Rook.”

Upon hearing you speak, Rook beams.

“There we go, Ma Cherie! See, was that so hard?”

You shake your head slowly, tears brimming at the corner of your eyes. If Rook notices, he doesn’t let on. He chatters away about how hard the chase was this time, and how lucky you were to have someone like him as a boyfriend. There are hardly any noble souls left in this world that appreciate a good hunt.

He clutches at your hands, forcing his fingers to intertwine with yours. Your dirt-covered hands, throbbing a raw red. Rook speaks, muttering in a feverish, almost frantic tone.

“You and I? We were made for each other.

So by all means, mon bien-aimé. Run. Run as far as you can.

I’ll always find you.”

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mint-yooxgi · 10 months

Text

Spectre - Yandere!Wraith!Hyunjin

Yandere AU & Wraith AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Monologue

Pairing: Hyunjin X Implied Chubby!Reader

Words: 1,630

Warnings: Implied stalking and murder, talk of self-mutilation and dirty thoughts. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: This one is meant to be read as if he's talking directly to you. Think "Meant To Be Yours" from the musical Heathers, just less intense anger. Hehehe, I hope you like it! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Fifth of The Feral Drabbles

“Don’t be scared, Pretty. You know I would never hurt you.

Just let me in. Don’t you want me to take care of you?

Ignoring me won’t make me go away; you can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m attached to you now, whether you like it or not. Our bond can never be broken. You’re mine and I’m yours, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that you are never taken away from me again.

Pretty, why are you crying? You should be overjoyed! I’m not going to leave you ever again!

Oh, I get it! They’re tears of joy, aren’t they? You’re just as ecstatic as I am to know we’ll no longer be apart, and now with this newfound bond, I’ll be able to touch you! Isn’t that exciting?

I’ll be honest, Pretty, I’ve longed to know what your skin feels like beneath my fingertips. For too long my gentle brushes have simply passed right through you. I want to feel you pressed against me. I want to hold you in my arms both in the most innocent of ways, and also in the most intimate. I’ll finally be able to make you feel so good.

You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Now, I’ll no longer have to stand by and watch those others who have been ridiculously unworthy of you touch you. No one will ever lay their filthy hands on you again. No one but me is allowed to touch you.

I’d do anything you’d want. I’ll admit, when I still drew breath, I was quite a selfish lover, but I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’ve spent too long fantasizing about burying my face between those plush thighs of yours to not want to take my time with you, and indulge in every desire you’ve ever had. I’ve seen how frustrated the others always leave you, and I’ll make sure that you’re satisfied in every way I can.

All you have to do is let me in…

I already told you, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to leave you alone. You mean too much to me.

Wait! I know! I’ll prove to you how well I know you! Then, you’ll have to let me in. Or maybe, I could try seducing you with my words? Would you like that, Pretty? For me to delve deeply into your soul and caress you with the romantic tenderness you have always craved to hear from your lovers?

I know my visage is usually meant to bring death and terror, but there is nothing more that I long to do than breathe into you the vibrance of life. You’re so beautiful, and you deserve only the best. You deserve someone to laugh at all of your corny jokes with. You deserve someone who will cherish you like you are the most delicate flower in the garden of the universe, of which you are. You deserve to be loved how you’ve always wanted, and I am more than willing to give that to you.

In fact, do you remember that day you were out with that- that- thing.

Forgive me, I dare not speak that bastard’s name. I honestly don’t know what you saw in him. He was a good for nothing, ugly, vile, piece of-

Sorry, Pretty. I guess I just got too carried away…

You can’t blame me. That’s just what you do to me. Picturing you with anyone else… well, I’m not a wraith for nothing.

Anyways, as I was saying, do you remember that day? How certain things started happening when he dared to get close to you?

Yes, that was me. I couldn’t stand the sight of him touching what’s mine. He never deserved you. Besides, you didn’t know what he was like when you weren’t around.

I took the liberty to follow him. I just had to know why you preferred his company, and seriously Pretty, you should have heard the shit he would talk about with his friends behind your back. It’s a shame someone seemed to pick them off one by one…

Yes, Pretty, that was also my doing. I couldn’t have scum walking this earth who could so easily disrespect My Pretty, now could I? Sometimes being what I am has its perks.

No, don’t cry harder! I promise I’ll never hurt you! I love you!

I- I- I don’t want you to be scared of me.

I know! Would hurting me make you feel better?

I mean, you locking me out like this already hurts me, but I’ll gladly let you do whatever you want to me. Now that we’re bonded, I’m susceptible to more things than before, but the regular stuff still works, too. Iron, salt, fire: pick your poison, I’ll suffer through it all. Though, if you’d prefer something more substantial, like a blade, I’ll gladly bleed for you. After all, only you can touch me now.

…Is it that surprising that I would want to bleed for you? After I already told you that I would do absolutely anything and everything for you?

Carve your fucking name into my skin. I don’t care. In fact, I’ll gladly do it for you.

Just please, won’t you let me in? I want to see your pretty face again; it’s been too long since I’ve last gazed upon you.

I don’t care if I appeared to you only an hour ago! It’s been too long!

You know, this isn’t how I pictured this going…

I won’t lie to you pretty, I had hoped we would be in the midst of making love right now.

It’s you who makes me so crazy, you know. You seriously have no idea what you do to me…

Long have I since desired to worship you. I mean, I already worship the very ground you walk on, but you’ve never seemed to notice. I honestly hated knowing how you thought those roses I always left for you every week were from that bastard.

Selfishly, I wanted to show up with those red flowers, litter your bed in their petals, and then make love to you like you’ve never been loved before. Until you were shaking from a single touch. Until you were dripping down my face from the amount of times I would make you come from my tongue alone. Until the only thing your hoarse voice could utter, the only thing that you could think of, would be my name.

Don’t you want me, too? I’ve been with you this whole time, but now that you can actually see me, you don’t-

It’s my appearance, isn’t it? I’m not desirable to you.

It’s okay, Pretty. I can handle the truth. You don’t find me attractive, do you? That’s why you’re so scared right now. You’re terrified of how I might react.

I can change, you know. I’ll change for you. Whatever you want from me, know that it’s yours. I’ll figure everything out, just as long as I get to have you in the end. You already own all of me, and you know I’m willing to give my everything for you.

I am a little shocked, though. I have always been told that I’m quite handsome, especially when I was alive, but I guess I don’t suit everyone’s tastes. Unfortunate that I only care about yours, but you don’t seem to desire my looks.

You’ve gone awfully silent all of a sudden. That means I’m right, doesn’t it? You aren’t attracted to me like I thought you would be.

Your breathing just picked up when you said that. Are you, perchance, lying?

Oh, Pretty, it’s okay. I’m so in tune with your body and your every reaction, I can tell when you’re being dishonest with yourself. I’m just happy to know that my theory is wrong. You do find me attractive, don’t you?

I’m all yours, Pretty. You know that? Everything that I am, belongs to you. I just want to take my time loving you, and getting to cherish you like you’ve always wanted. Like you’ve always deserved.

So, please, won’t you open the door?

What do you mean, ‘no’?

I’m getting tired of these games, Pretty. I’ve tried playing nice, but the way you’re hiding from me is getting on my every last nerve. I’ve already waited years for this moment, and now that it’s here, you’re pushing me away? I don’t think so.

I’ll give you five seconds, and if you don’t open this fucking door before the time is up, I will smash through it without a second thought. Even you can’t keep me away forever. I won’t let you.

One.

Two.

You’re really testing my patience, Pretty. You know that, right?

Three.

Four.

Five.

That’s it, I warned you. I’m coming in whether you like it or not.

Wait, why can’t I get through your door? Pretty, did you do something?

Answer me, Pretty.

Pretty…

I know you’re scared, Pretty, but just let me in. Open the door, and let me in. I’m starting to get really angry, and I would hate to have to do something that I might come to regret. You can’t hide from me forever.

I’m fucking done waiting for you. You’re mine, whether you like it or not. I don’t care what it takes, I’m going to bust this fucking door down and find you. I’ll drag you out of that room if I have to; you’re not going anywhere without me. You can’t. You better be prepared for that, Pretty.

After all, this salt line will only protect you for so long, and once I’m through… Once I’m through, I’ll make you feel my love. It’s the only thing my spirit still lives on to do.”

#yandere hyunjin #yandere stray kids #yandere kpop #stray kids drabble #hyunjin scenario #hyunjin smut #stray kids scenario #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz scenarios #skz x reader #wraith au #kpop scenario #kpop smut #chubby reader

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precious-little-scoundrel · 6 months

Note

IM SORRY DID U SAY YOURE WORKING ON A FIC ABOUT “COP BIG DADDY ELVIS”?!?- please tell us more because this sounds like the greatest thing ever 😭

I did, Mon ami, I did indeed…welcome to the demented 2009, sweaty and non famous cop AU that @eliseinmemphis and myself cooked up in our feral yearnings one night.

Edit: it’s here

Allow me to lay a bit of the setting for us all, and maybe even throw in a few lines from the draft below.

Life is insular when you’ve been born and raised in a trailer park. A little El Paso suburb was never a thriving metropolis, what with its gas stations and dollar stores on the way to nothingness in the desert, but the recession didn’t help none. Your dreams of buying a car that might actually make it above 120 mph and not guzzle your wages in gas is a far off dream when you learn from officer Presley that your entrepreneuring father has been incarnated for racketeering across in Juarez. It’s a shame, a damn shame but it hardly throws a wrench in your life, you were already used to making it however you could. When workin’ at the trucker’s club turns into something a lil more illegal and Elvis has his morning waffle ruined by Joe Esposito yacking about the powers of your pink tongue…he feels a little responsible for leaving you without a father figure. He’s got top notch swamp coolers in his trailer, plenty of food and tiger figurines out front -and he’s got an interest in fast things, just like you.

You could do worse than shack up with such a fella; not that he’s offerin’ but you can tell by the flicker in his eye and the smirk of his lips that he’s as susceptible as the next guy watching you on the pole. Except this sweet, world weary cynic just might screw your gooey insides up worse than any threat or ogle from another man.

Snippet:

“Well, well officer Presley, finally got persnickety about laws, have ya?” you observed to yourself with a grin as you watched the handsome man swagger towards you along the white line in your side mirror, tugging at his pants as he neared, trying to shimmy the article of clothing a little higher but is impeded by his belt, stopped by his sizable belly, his holster and buckle sitting under the bulge of it.

Your mouth watered. It had been a year or two since you saw him last. He was always built, intimidating to all the stupid rascals he keeps in line along the border, but now he had become outright fat and his khaki shirt pulled apart between each button. Yet when he came up to your window, that little boy grin was still gracing one of the most exquisite faces known to man, and his voice was tender and playful when he greeted you, just as you once recalled. You could see his sweaty hair, matted on his chest and belly between the gaps, his underarms had massive pit stains, doubly apparent thanks to the light color of his police uniform.

Your smile had something of the she-wolf in it as you greeted him, sniffing the air in hopes of catching a whiff as he leaned on your window frame, nearly crowding you from outside. “Hey Miss Sweet Cheeks,” he greets, “you know why ya been pulled over?”

“Haven't got a clue, officer.” You stated the truth and enjoyed the way his title rolled off your tongue in a bantering way. It was easy.

Officer, officer. Somebody important and authoritative. No sir, yes sir, Officer.

His left eyebrow quirked and you wondered what he looked like at twenty five, how devastating that expression would have been before his wound and his meds and the water retention. Whatever power it may have once held, it holds nothing to this slightly bemused, slightly cynical world weariness that shows in his every expression now, that had a twitch of an eyebrow making you feel a fool. “You’re goin’ seventy in a forty five, Miss.” his tone was patient even as his face suggested he’d like to tan your hide for being so reckless. “Reckless endangerment of others, and yourself,” he quoted sternly, “it ain’t no small matter and I don’t countenance it on my highway.”

Gosh, you just loved it when he laid claim to government property like highways and interstates. It helped you smile meekly at him and nod.

“Sorry officer, I got lax.” You purred, batting your eyes and you could see the heavy flap of their coal coated weight in your periphery. “I’ve seen you lettin’ me flyby on the interstate. I guess I thought…”

#Elvis blurbs #trash magic #TM asks #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #blurbs #my blurbs #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fan fic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presely smut

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flkwh0re · 2 months

Note

Hellooo, I saw your post about Resident Evil women and as someone who's feral for Donna I gotta send in a request for her! Some fluff with cuddles and kisses, either in bed or by the fire (whichever inspires you more) please? Could also turn into smut but I leave it up to what feels best to you while writing. Thanks!

- feral anon

Touchy Desires

Warnings: Fluffy, Fingering, eating out, reader being a tease, Hand kink (duh!!), Oral fixation.

Word Count: 884

A/n: Thank you so much for a Donna request!!!

——————————⧗ᗢ——————————

You sat curled into Donna’s usually cold body, but this time her body was warming up against your own. The fire blazed from the fireplace, warming the air around the two of you. After an hour of begging you finally drug her out of her workshop, insisting that you had constructed the best fire of which you were very proud of.

“You were right, this a pretty good fire you have going.” She said as she giggled, kissing the tender spot behind your ear. You giggled as well, “I told you! To think you were insinuating that you stay to work on your dolls.”

“I know, but- “She paused, “I really like doing what I do.” You sighed, “I know Don, but I wanna spend more time with you.” You pouted, your lip slightly sticking out.

She chuckled, “I could make it up to you, you know?” Her words had a slight tinge of seduction laced in them. Her. lips curled into smirk as you turned your head, and your eyes met hers. “What are you suggesting?” You returned her seductive tone.

“This.” Her breath flowed against your skin as the word slipped past her lips, her skilled hands working down your body. Her fingers traced loops and lines down your torso, and you admired the way every vein and tendon flexed under her skin.

Her tongue peaked past her mouth and connected with your neck, licking at your soft flesh for a second before attaching her lips to your neck. She pulled her mouth off you with a pop, admiring the purple mark forming on your skin.

“Your skin is so soft and beautiful as always.” She whispered as her teeth grazed your skin. Donna had always had some sort of fixation with your body whether that was your eyes, skin, or your fingers. She adored every inch of you, and that’s why you loved her so much. She knew how to make you feel so admirable.

Her hands trailed to the hem of your flannel pajama bottoms, toying with the draw strings. She pulled at the string to loosen them, then tugging them down your legs. Her hands explored every inch of your thighs, rubbing along the soft flesh of them.

The pads of her fingers trailed up to your panties, teasing you through them. Her fingers trailed over the wet patch that had begun to form, “Oh my sweet girl, you’re soaked. I’ve barely touched you; do you like my touch that much?”

You threw your head back in frustration, “Yes, please!” You whined, just aching for her touch. She smiled at your eager state, tugging your panties off. Donna’s rough fingers rubbed against your clit, causing shocks of pleasure through you.

“Hold your hips still sweet girl.” Donna rasped, her tone almost sending you over the edge. She slipped her fingers into your needy aching cunt, thrusting then at a steady pace. Her fingers slid up your body, fingers trailing into your mouth.

Donna loved when you sucked on her fingers, the way your tongue would swirl in between her digits. Your lips would wrap around her fingertips, sucking and biting at them. She loved your mouth, and you loved her hands.

“Fuck Don I’m so close.” You whined through fingers, and her pace quickened. The palm of her hand now snapping against your clit with each thrust, giving even more overwhelming pleasure. “Cum for me baby, cum on my fingers.” The fingers in your mouth slid further down your throat, earning a gag from you.

Your cunt wrapped tightly around her fingers as your orgasm struck. Your body shook with pleasure in her arms, the hand that was in your mouth now rubbed small soothing circles on your thigh.

“Fuck Don, that was.” She giggled at your praise. “Good, but I want your mouth on me please.” She moaned in your ear. You turned around out of her grasp, kneeling in front of her.

You scrunched the skirt of her dress up, your fingers skimmed up her tights. You pulled them off her pale legs, “No panties, hm?” You teased.

She wasn’t fond of your teasing, so she gripped your hair tugging you into her cunt. Your tongue darted out past your lips, lapping at her soaked core. You slid your tongue in and out of her hole, reaching as far as you possibly could.

Donna’s hand gripped onto your hair even tighter, “Fuck, I need your fingers in me now.” With her wishes you stuck two fingers into her, pumping them as you sucked her clit. Her thighs wrapped tightly around your head, almost crushing it.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum!” She shouted followed by, “Fuck baby I’m cuming!” And she sure was. You could feel her cum leaking out of her, as you gave her soft kitten licks to bring her through her orgasm.

Once you’d lapped all her juices, you stood up and brought her into a searing kiss. “You look so pretty with my cum on your face.” She giggled, making you smile. “Why don’t we go to the bathroom so we can clean up?”

Donna nodded, “Then we’re coming back to cuddle some more, right?” You laughed, “Of course.” She placed a tender kiss on your forehead, then guided you off to the bathroom.

Masterlist

#donna beneviento x reader #donna beneviento #donna beneviento reaident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil 8 #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil eight #fanfic #re8 village #re8

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idv-sunsxin3 · 3 months

Text

Pavia, Horropedia, Diggers // Bites as Love Language

Note// when you happen to bite as a gesture of affection, and you mostly do that on your boyfriend-...Also guys don't get me wrong, some of you want to bite them, too-*gets bonked*

___

You were not certain why you like biting your loved ones, and especially your man Pavia- probably they were so loveable to the point you just want to chomp on them without needing to communicate-

or because you wanna claim them as yours. Lol

I guess is just your way to show affection.

nonetheless, the time you first bit him not so hard by the arm, the freaking boy bites you back....- but harder.

....crap, you just helped him discover a new habit. Congrats.

"Mmm... Such tender skin~"

...And your arm bled.

He helped you patch you up though, kinda...

Not the type who would say sorry in the spot, but he kisses the spot where it hurts before buying you Gelato to make up for it. He doesn't seem to regret it though, by the fact he keeps rubbing where he bit you with a proud smirk---

He finds your bites endearing, having the believe that he shows it better if he bites harder;;; <//3

You gotta control this feral wolf, bestie- how can you get to give him love bites if he keeps making you bleed through his teeth 😭🫠

Of course, you can bite hard on him. He likes that too. But you still won't be spared;;;

Oh, right, the silent treatment you get. Bad puppy. (lol)

It won't amuse him though, so he'll keep annoying the heck out of you until he gets what he wants; which is your attention.

He probably would have been mad about someone biting his cheek if they're not you- he just happens to have this tiny but unstable amount of patience whenever you do;;; otherwise, he'll trap you in his arms tightly and never leave you do anything else until you say sorry;;; like what do you mean, man- what about you hhhh- 😭

He doesn't care about hiding the marks that you make on him though, he is shameless and mad proud enough to flex them on anyone around him,,,, he even gives you the hard time for you to hide the marks on you if you’re not the type to attract attention,,,

Besides biting you, he often gives you teasing kisses on the cheeks or on the shoulder in response to your random love bites. He can be a loving goof when he wants to, no objections/ih

Sometimes... you can't help, but find your boyfriend quite mesmerizing. Not just listening to his honeyed-voice ramble whatever he desires, but also the way he sparkles while at it- He seems old-school... But your type of old-school <333

"when a series of bizarre murders occur on the outskirts of the fictional Midwestern town of Raccoon City, the Raccoon City Police Department's S.T.A.R.S. team are assigned to investigate." He rambles on as you doze off, your gaze slowly shufting from his eyes to his neck.

"After contact with Bravo Team is lost, Alpha Team is sent to investigate their disappeara- A... Ah?!"

He feels a small sharp feeling on the back of his neck.

He flinches as he gasps, before turning around to give you a confused look. One big flustered, confused look.

Horropedia scolds you, his ears start to grow a red hue while brushing his fingers on the sore part.

"H-Hey, don't just do that behind me! That's weird...!"

It really caught him off guard yet seems to have brushed it off minutes later when the bite suddenly reminded him of one scene from the horror game...- (help-)

..However, when the night comes, he'd be wide awake thinking about what you did. His thoughts just running wild as he contemplates, still remembering the feeling of your bite on his neck;;;

His brain be braining but also not braining for awhile;;;

At this point, he eventually doesn't seem to mind- he starts to seem to feel pleasant about it, especially if they're just soft bites.

He can't help but get a bit nervous when you do that because it's usually the times when he's not even mentally prepared sbshsn- he'll have these different shades of red on his cheeks, lots of sweating, and lots of occasional glances at everywhere but you to see if there some kind of killer about to jump on you both like in those horror movies---

If anyone ever asks why there are bites on his arms or neck- or even on his face... He'll jokingly answered he got kissed by a vampire, and it went wrong;;;😭/ih

He's not the type to bite, he would push away if it's not the right time at first- until he realizes it's just one of the ways you show this special affection for him, and that makes him feel a bit better so he eventually let them slide... sometimes- it takes a while to get used to it for him hhhh-,,

He would end up either giving you headpats as you do your silly biting sessions or occasionally just pull you close with him in one arm and starts messing your hair playfully;;; of course, all the silliness ends with one kiss on the nose <33

Diggers would most likely let out a shriek or a gasp the moment you bite him-

Oh, how his reactions tend to get escalated at first;;;

Once in a scenario, you two were having their moment alone. It started with one kiss on his cheek, then two kisses on his lips, then one long kiss-

and then one very long kiss to the point you were now pinning Diggers on the ground as he was holding on to you closer.

You then started planting cute kisses on his chin and neck, making him muffled some giggles by the ticklish feeling-🥺

...Until you started nibbling and biting him softly.

"E- Y/N????" He squeak in an embarrassed tone as he shivers in his own grip.

Whenever you bite him, he tends to get so confused- He would be starting to feel less sober than usual every second while you keep biting him.

It wasn't exactly a negative reaction, he was just very surprised---

Not to mention, you keep doing this to him pretty often after that- preferably behind close doors.

Diggers, at this point, will get high and addicted to your soft bites. Weirdly and silly, they're sometimes used by him as inspiration- even giving him some spark of motivation whenever you stub a bite on his wrist--

He would have a more passive approach while finding himself covering you more with his kisses. He would still peacefully yawn as he has his arm around you. Cuddling while you do it.

Slowly, he eventually gets used to your affectionate gesture that his reaction will start to gradually seem to become a bit calmer.

He wouldn't flinch nor pull away if you lightly bite his lip. But he'll surely shiver again as the sensation is overwhelmingly good.

Yet- He honestly can't bring himself to bite you back as he doesn't want to do any form of harm to you- So he can't speak your love language, "i'm sorry, my muse,,, 😭🥺" he would say;;;

Nonetheless, he won't stop give you kisses and the occasional nose booping... your touch is all the same intoxicating. <33

#reverse: 1999 x reader #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 #r1999 #r1999 x reader #horropedia x reader #horropedia #r1999 horropedia #pavia x reader #r1999 pavia #diggers x reader #r1999 diggers #reverse 1999 diggers #pavia reverse 1999

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whoahoney · 10 months

Note

For the celebration: Eddie, enemies to lovers, dialogue prompt: ‘Swallow.’ 💛💛

Honey’s 2k Fics!

CW: Minors DNI, mean!reader, fem/afab!reader, subby!eddie, a hint of jealousy, smut (oral f and m receiving, cum eating, semi public sex)

I loved writing this so much, I’ve just begun dabbling in enemies to lovers so I’m sorry if it isn’t like the others 💀🫶🏻 this was supposed to be a lil blurb but it just kept going lmao. Thank you for sending this in!!! I call this one… My Pleasure

Join the celebration

“Oh shit!” You gasp as his mouth closes around your cunt, the feeling so good you can’t even think about the wooden locker room bench biting into your back. “Fuck, c’mon—“ you grunt and roll your hips against his face.

He chuckles against you, the throaty satisfied melody humming through your core before he lifted his mouth only enough to mutter against your lips, “Someone’s eager—“ you cut him off by shoving his face back down.

“—not here to talk, Munson.” You say breathily, your building high already fleeing in the mere seconds he stopped working his oral magic against your cunt.

He nods and resumes eating, pressing his fingers into your thighs with more fervor. “Shit—yeah, just like that—“ you sigh out in relief and dig your fingers into the edge of the bench above your head.

This has been a regular thing for a couple weeks. A nice little hate fuck in the locker rooms after cheer practice ended and Eddie was done with—well, whatever it is he did.

Currently you were enjoying yourself the most you’d ever had and Eddie was well aware. He mapped your every move, every word, every sweet little noise he pulled from you with his tongue. He’d purposely tease and edge you to draw it out longer, wishing to keep his mouth on you as long as possible.

He couldn’t believe how far you’d come in only a couple of months, how comfortable you grew in front of him after making him question his skills the first time you met like this, your silence had been deafening.

The first time, he’d been locking up the drama room as you’d been shutting off lights in the gym. You hadn’t meant to engage but when he opened his mouth and let out a, “Well, who do we have here? Y’know the basketball team finished up a couple hours ago, aren’t you supposed to be cheering them on in the locker rooms?” He smirked at you as you pulled the double doors shut and scoffed.

“Jealous?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He scoffed this time as he turned to you fully and approached.

You wanted to swallow but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, “I mean, why are you so pressed about the basketball team for? Girlies aren’t lining up to go down on the freak?”

He tsks like it’s a challenge and steps closer. “No, actually they’re lining up for me to go down on them. How do you like them apples, cap’n?” He said so matter-of-factly you believed him.

No matter your effort, the air in your lungs was forced out by laugh of disbelief, maybe embarrassment or shock, but you clear your throat and maintain the hardness in your eyes.

Eddie looks awfully satisfied until you say, “I don’t see anybody.”

He smiles as if he wanted you to say it, “Looks like the line starts here, huh?” He looks you over with a predatory gleam and you arch an eyebrow, the intrigue peeking through.

Before you knew it you were turning on your heel and walking towards the door to the locker room. Eddie stood for a minute, glancing around and wondering if this was his rejection until you turn to him, “Well, are you coming?” You ask with a hand on your hip. “I want proof, Munson.” You say with a hidden smirk that set him on fire. A feral smile stretches across his face and he hurries after you, rubbing his hands together as if he were about to eat a fine meal.

You kept your cool the whole time, almost refusing to accept how good it felt, refusing to give yourself over to him. He was so tender with his touches, unlike anyone you’d been with. The kisses on your thighs were so foreign you jumped the first few pecks he laid down beneath your skirt.

The only thing that told Eddie you enjoyed yourself was the change in your breathing, otherwise you were quiet as a mouse. It wasn’t until you stopped breathing that he looked up at you—expecting you to be staring at him with the same disdainful look you always shot is way, but no. Your eyes were clamped shut and your jaw clenched, as if in discomfort.

He smirked and massaged your thighs to get your attention, “Tell me you like it, or I’ll stop.” He almost whispers.

Your mouth relaxes and your eyes pop open and you glance down at him as you breathe out, almost defeated, “…I do.” You say with a hint of shame in your tone. That same mischievous grin stretches on his face and he strokes your clit to make your breath shudder and your hips jerk.

“Stop teasing me.” You push at his forehead playfully, his smile widening as he leans back down.

“Stop holding back.” He says with delight and dives back in.

He savored every drop of you on his tongue that night, every squeak, squeal, and squirm he’d pulled out of you. He watched you ready yourself to leave, not bothering to wash his hands so he could savor the scent of you when he got himself off at home.

You sat there as he licked his fingers and held eye contact, “It was a pleasure.” He mumbled, stepping away.

You stare at him for a second and begrudgingly sigh and shake your head, suppressing a smile, “Indeed.”

It’s all he needed to hear before he was turning on his heel and gliding out the door.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After a week of stolen looks in the cafeteria, in the hall as you passed, or even in class— you found yourself waiting outside of the drama room as Hellfire let out. You breathe out a puff of nervous air as freshman filed out, followed by the juniors that shot you curious looks—ones that told you they didn’t know. Why hadn’t he told them?

You nod at them indifferently as they walk out of the building, the pounding in your chest almost enough to convince you to follow them and walk to your car to go home and go to sleep and pretend you never considered him as an option again.

But you stayed. You stayed until that click of the knob sounded and your breath caught in your throat as he stepped out into the hallway, halting only for a moment before he smiled and shut the door the rest of the way.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he turns to lock the door, “What can I do for you?” He turns to you with an expectant smile, stepping up to lean against the lockers you’d gotten comfortable on.

You roll your eyes and try not to smile though you fail. “Was it… really a pleasure?” You ask.

Eddie swallows and nods, “Yeah,” he whispers before looking over his shoulder to find an empty hallway and then back to you, inching closer. “Why? Can’t stop thinking about me?”

You roll your eyes and turn to the gym, Eddie waiting again in his place against the lockers. “Am I suppose to follow?” He asked in a whisper yell.

You turn to him as you lean against the doors and say, “Duh!”

He gleefully follows you again.

Again and again, he waits for you, you wait for him, and he gives you the best head you’d ever imagined possible.

At school, your shitty comments had stopped and Eddie began to worry about you. Were you pulling away? Was this your way of icing him out? He thought about asking you the next Friday, if you were still comfortable with it all.

It wasn’t until lunch rolled around and Jason tripped him on his way past that he heard you speak, “Jason! Why are you so obsessed with him?” You crooned with a smile. The jocks started laughing, some even made kissy noises at Jason, while Eddie met your gaze and righted himself, finding your smile on him—til you noticed he was staring then you bit the inside of your cheek with a blush, stabbing another limp green bean on your fork.

After that, you’d gotten brave and let his hands wander up your shirt, your whines and writhing hips making him chuckle against you every time—until you shoved his hands away and grabbed him by the hair to grind your pussy against his face.

You thought it’d piss him off but he only moaned into your pussy and shook his head till you gushed. That was the first time you’d cried out his name as you finished.

It rang in his ears til he came in his fist an hour later at home.

You were always left with lingering thoughts about him; if he thought about you, if he got himself off after, why he never asked for anything in return, and then of course— who else is he fucking around with? How does he know how to do it so good??

The thought made your stomach twist—in disgust, of course. Cause you couldn’t ever be jealous of another girl with Eddie Munson. Absolutely not.

Okay maybe a little.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As you walk in the hall, you’re debating on stopping this arrangement with Eddie, or telling him how you feel. How you can’t stop thinking about his stupid face, or the way he looks at you when he kneels before you as you undress for him. The way he chuckles at your banter and always knows what to say back or when he encourages you with sweet nothings that you’d never known you wanted to hear from anyone, let alone him.

“That’s it, that’s it, atta girl,”

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Such a sweet little pussy, baby,”

“Mmm—so wet for me.”

They echoed through your head at the worst times, making your thighs clench in class and your cheeks redden at how your insides turn to liquid at the mere thought of him. Not to mention the way your stomach flipped at the sight of him.

Him and his stupid smile, and stupid hair. And his stupid fucking fingers that you wanted in your mouth, in your hair, in your hands as you played with his dumb janky rings that you found yourself staring at more lately because you know exactly what they feel like on your clit, and no idea how they feel in your hand.

And currently, they were twirling a lock of hair that didn’t belong to you.

You stop in your tracks and spot Eddie at his locker and Heather Prosser leaning next to it. She was also a cheerleader.

A very pretty one.

And a stupid fucking bitch.

You watch for a moment as she flashes a smile and bats her lashes at him, asking about meeting up soon. He tosses the strand over her shoulder and tsks before he looks up from her with a keen smile—until his gaze lands on you and the daggers you were shooting at him.

His smile fell and his shoulders slumped. As he glanced back to Heather and shut his locker, you want to turn on your heel and run away to your car and drive home.

How could you be so stupid.

Obviously he got what he wanted—the satisfaction of seeing you vulnerable and weak for him after years of the back and forth bullshit you always sorta looked forward to. It didn’t mean the same for him—any of it.

Before you know it you’re marching up to him and grabbing him by the wrist, looking her dead in the eye before you say, “Bye, Heather!” and pull him along.

Heather scoffs as you bypass her and drag him away, your heart pounding so hard in your chest you fear he might feel it in your hand.

The bell rings and you pull him into the locker room, which you know will be vacant til the end of school in two hours.

You push through first and glance around, noticing the static quiet surrounding you and turn to him as the door clicks shut.

He’s quick to find your waist, your hands resting up on his chest as his fingers stroke at your lower back beneath your shirt. “Tell me why.” He quietly demands.

You shrug your shoulders and avoid his eye, “I dunno, Eddie.”

He scoffs, “Well, do you want me, or do you just not want to see me with anyone else?” He asks quieter than before.

You scrunch your brow at him, “… both, duh.” You find your hands on his face for the first time, his cheeks soft yet prickled with stubble you were well acquainted with between your thighs.

Eddie melts into your touch and nods, “Well, luckily for you… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about…” he blushes this time and your smirk finally returns, “What?” You ask with a daring smile. “Tell me.”

His eyes meet yours and he bites his lip before answering, “Having you all to myself.”

You nod, “I think that could be arranged,” you bite your lip and his heart thunders beneath your touch. “But there’s something I have to do, first. Before we make this little thing official.” You trace along his chain and tug the guitar pick at the end of it before tugging him along by it.

His cock throbs in his pants at the sight, that hungry look in your eyes he found set on him in more places than just the locker room these days.

But now it was more than just hunger. It was true desire. Little did he know how much you paid attention before all of this, not to mention the tabs you kept on him since you found out about his… talents.

You knew the music he liked, and that it wasn’t half bad. You knew he was a total dork about a book you had to read in middle school and he’d read it so much he could quote it (against your skin, more recently).

That he was in a band and he’d played guitar since he was 8 and was supposedly really fucking good. You believe every bit of that claim due to the magic he worked on you with only his fingers.

You knew he was respectful and caring, and could take a lot of shit for no goddamn reason.

You also knew he liked it when you wound your fingers in his hair and tugged at the roots. That he liked it when you used him and that he was a fucking giver.

Not to mention how handsome he was.

And you knew there were a million other things to learn about him. Things you wouldn’t want anyone else to know, because he was yours.

And that you didn’t want to see anyone ever touch him again, ever.

You push him into a shower cubical and shut the curtain, his eyes shining and mouth gaping in awe as you strip off your shirt and drop to your knees. Your hand flattens against his chest to push him the rest of the way against the wall.

“My turn, Munson.” You curl your fingers around his belt loops and his hips involuntarily rock. He groans softly and you smile widely, as he caresses your cheek.

“Show me what you can do, baby.” He says as his thumb sweeps down your cheekbone and across your bottom lip, to which you open your mouth and stick out your tongue and chest.

“Oh, I like this.” He smiled as you wrap your lips around his digit and sucked. “Shit, baby, are you a freak?”

Your eyes open and you slide off his thumb with a small pop, your hands working at his belt. “I’ll let you decide.”

“Shit.” He smiles and slumps against the wall his hands glued to his thighs as you work his jeans open and palm his rock hard cock til he sighs in relief.

“You’re gonna use me, okay, Eddie? I want you to.” You nuzzle your face against his balls until he responds with an, “Ah, shit!” And laces his fingers at the back of your hair. “My pleasure.” He says and lets you pull his pants down past his ass, soon followed by his boxers.

His dick springs up and your mouth drops at the sight. It was long and thick, the tip an angry red and the shaft the same color his cheeks turned when he blushed.

“Oh my go—“ but you can’t finish because Eddie’s already sliding it in and groaning out, “Fuuuuck!”

He starts slow, deliberate strokes, only halfway down his shaft, his fingers winding into your hair. Your hands cover his, and your feel his fingers searching for yours and you moan around his cock.

“That’s it… so pretty—my pretty girl.” He whispered down to you. You open your eyes to find his set on you, his pace quickening and strokes getting deeper. Your eyes water but your gaze is practically desperate— and he can’t fathom that it’s for him.

He groans out another pretty sound at the contact, your unbreakable stare that soon grows smug again, at how desperate he is for you.

You start bobbing in time with his thrusts and hollowing your cheeks and it nearly makes him keel over right then and there. He lurches and leans over and his grip slides from your hair to your cheeks, his thrusts still consistent, yet you could tell he was holding back. You push him deeper til he hit the back of your throat and he whines out openly. You match it with a whine of your own and your panties dampen.

He stays hunched over you as he fucks your face and soon you feel his hands working at the clasp of your bra til it popped open. You give a surprised little yelp and shimmy it the rest of the way off for him. He leans back against the wall and pushes you off his cock gently to get a good look at you.

He fists his spit slicked dick, and watches you, bare chested and on your knees for him. “Touch yourself.” He orders you quietly. “Lemme watch you play with those gorgeous tits.”

A lupine smile tugs at your cheeks and you arch your back for him before caressing the sides of your breasts for him, pushing them together and squeezing them, “Like this?”

“Yeah…” he whispers before spitting on his hand and stroking himself harder. You pinch and roll your nipples before you start a slow rhythm on the heel of your foot, your chest softly bouncing along.

“Oh yeah, keep going, pretty girl…” he smiles down at you, his hips fucking into his fist. You hold your tits for him and hold his eye, your smile blooming again. “Where do you want me to—“

“On me?” You say without hesitation, smoothing your hands from your stomach all the way up over your breasts and neck. “…In my mouth?” You suggest and he freezes before he nods.

“Yeah, baby, get back here.” He mutters as he grips you by the hair and pushes his cock back inside to start a brutal pace that sends you gagging without much time to recover. “Aww, you’re okay, you’re okay.” He mutters to you absently as he works closer to his release.

Your hands start at his hips before one sneaks down to his balls to massage and roll in hand, and his hips stutter before he’s able to warn, “I’m gonna— awww!” He groans out and spills his load into your mouth, whimpering when he feels you continue to suck, as if demanding every drop.

You finally pull off him, your mouth obviously full as you look up at him. He leans over, a finger on your chin before he demands, “Swallow.” In a bone chilling whisper.

You gulp it down and let your tongue swipe over your lip before he’s tugging you up by the arm and pressing his mouth to yours for the first time.

“That was so good, baby.” He whispered against your lips before you chuckled and pushed away from him to pull on your bra and shirt, ignoring the dumb smile he gave you as you dressed—the same way he always looked at you.

“Oh, c’mon, Munson.” You say before pulling your shirt over your head, “—it was my pleasure.” You mock him.

A wild smile stretches across his face before he’s on you in an instant, pulling you to him to kiss again and again, “A pleasure Indeed.” He teases before kissing your nose.

#honeys house party #honeys 2k celebration #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #honeys fic recs #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson enemies to lovers #mean!reader

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starsinmylatte · 7 months

Note

Could we please get Q, S, Z for the smut headcanon game? Thank you!! -💌 (shy anon)

Of course, my darling!

Original smut headcanon post here

Other Letters I've answered here: E, M, and W

Warnings: size diff if you squint, pred/prey dynamics

Q: Quiet (Reaction to a quiet partner)

Oh, I could so see Thrawn teasing a quiet partner with things designed to draw small gasps and whimpers from their kiss-swollen lips. He would love a quiet partner just as much as a more vocal one, relishing any and all of their reactions, no matter how faint.

There are times that he does try to see how loudly he can make them call his name, though.

He feels so large, so solid and strong beneath his lover that it's practically unfair. Thrawn's thick cock stuffs them so well that it should be a sin. They bite their lip to muffle a moan as he rocks his hips slowly, but deliciously. "thrawn...." Their head lolls back in bliss as his strong hands move their hips in time with his thrusts. "What was that, darling?" He teases, voice low and husky as he repeats the motion. In no time at all, they are practically singing his name.

S: Safe Word (How often is the safe word used? Why?)

So, I do think Thrawn gets up to some kinky shit, but it is always 1000% safe, consensual, and adequately discussed beforehand. The very last thing he wants to do is actually hurt his lover or do something they wouldn't enjoy.

There would absolutely be an established safeword, but it's probably rarely used, if at all, because he's so thorough with establishing soft and hard limits.

However, if the safe word is used, everything stops immediately with absolutely no questions or protests whatsoever.

Z: Zoo (Their animalistic qualities in the bedroom)

I am incredibly excited about this one because, BOY, DO I HAVE OPINIONS ABOUT THIS.

When I say Thrawn can go feral, I mean feral. He was stranded on a planet more than once, and the first time had to hunt and literally fight nature for his own survival. At times, there's a wild, untamed man vying to break through Thrawn's collected, pristine demeanor, and that side of him longs to hunt and claim and fuck.

If you were into it, he'd get up to some true predator/prey dynamics and literally hunt you through a forest. It would be a game to see how long you can hide from him, and how your survival skills stack up against his own.

Of course, it will be the sweetest prize when Thrawn inevitably pins you against a tree. He growls, nipping the tender pulse point of your neck as he shreds your clothes. He absolutely ravishes your body, pinning you against the tree to take you once and then fucking you again on the forest floor as your hands claw for purchase against the leaves.

His voice is so thick with his native accent that at one point he fully reverts to speaking Cheunh, growling it in your ear as he wrings every drop of pleasure from your body.

#lyria responds #�� anon #blue man hot #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #lyria rambles #star wars #thrawn x reader #chiss #mitth'raw'nuruodo #star wars fan fiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut

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sexyinaratkindaway · 4 months

Text

Leave All your Love and your Longing Behind

Rating: E

Fandom: QSMP

Pairing: FitMC/Pactw

Summary: In Purgatory, two almost-lovers meet on the battlefield, feral as dogs and just as beaten, to find comfort in each other.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53085622

Pac is scared.

Of course he’s scared.

Why wouldn’t he be?

This isn’t Purgatory. After Purgatory ends, fire and brimstone and purifying gold, Heaven awaits.

This isn't Purgatory.

They're in Hell, and Pac doesn't know what he's being punished for, but he must have deserved it, for Hell to be so vivid and terrible. Instead of devils tormenting him, it's his friends, his family.

Forever is there, Mike is there, thank the Goddess, but so is Cell— Cellbit —and so is Fit, beautiful, dangerous, cruel, kind Fit. He’s at his most handsome like this; bloodstained, cruel, scarred and dirty and grungy, blood in his nail beds and stubble on his chin and dirt in his scales. He’s handsome as the sun, as howling wind and tall mountains and thunderous waterfall, and Pac is, irrevocably, unendingly, in love with him. He can't bring himself to hate him when he catches sight of him, manic and dust-covered and bloodstained, so different and yet so familiar. They cross paths on the battlefield, again and again and again; again and again and again they brush shoulders without the time to really face off. Pac is happier that way; he doesn’t know if he wants Fit to see him like this.

Because Purgatory has turned them all into animals, and Pac is no exception: his lungs itch, his throat hitches, his skin burns, from the toxic fog and the acid rain and the sand swallowing him whole; he’s gaunt and hungry, howling like a dog, his undershirt is torn and dusty and stained, his hoodie tattered and dirty, the only colour left about him the scabbed over, bloody cuts that tatter him all over, and the too-bright blue that, he knows, shines in his eyes like headlights. It’s a curse, it makes him too visible; but being visible has its advantages, in battle as in stalking. He’s just come out victor of a duel—with Cellbit, what a pretty coincidence—when he spots Fit spotting him, and he can see the emerald green spotlights of Fit’s eyes shift and tighten and widen when they land on him.

He grins at him, waves his arm in the air like everything is normal and perfect. Like there's no droplets of blood swinging in the air from his brisk movement. Fit jogs the distance between them closed, the lightest of limps in his stride, and Pac feels himself frown. He kicks Cellbit's body to the side, lifeless and pale and limp and empty, finishes stuffing the last of his things in his backpack. His knife feels odd in his hand, heavy in the blade and light in the handle like it wants to jump out of his grasp. He tucks it in a holster on his thigh and turns to Fit.

"Fit!" He says, and barely holds back from drawling out the end of his name into the soft, tender fricative it so badly wants to be in his mouth.

Fit, despite himself and what his better instincts say, smiles.

"Pac," he says. It’s a tender, low, breathy sigh, a parched man who can’t believe his luck, finding a puddle of clear water. Pac is his water, and he doesn’t know the water’s poisoned. “Pac, God, what happened to you?”

“Just tired,” Pac says, nonchalant. He runs a hand through his hair to pull it out of his forehead, huffs when the too-long locks fall right back over his eyes. He smiles, and hopes they crinkle with it even if he doesn’t feel it. “Might just give up on this and do like you, cut it all off. What happened to you ?”

He nods his chin in direction of Fit’s leg, stiff, pained. It’s his left.

Fit chuckles. “Oh, just a bad fall I took a couple days ago. ‘M fine.”

Pac knows it was the tigers. Pac doesn't say, and grins instead. "At least now we match!"

He lifts up his left leg, bends it back and forth at the knee. It goes smoothly, but screeches an ugly sound when he bends it back too far, and Fit's handsome face crumples into a sympathetic grimace.

“That can’t be good for stealth.”

“Eh, I just can’t crouch too far. I’ve been meaning to oil it, but…”

Not much oil in Purgatory, and what little is there is better used on machinery, on farms. As long as Pac can walk and stand, he can conserve the oil.

“Can't be good for stealth.”

“I don't need stealth.”

“This guy tried stealth on you?”

Pac laughs a wheezy little breath, nudging Cellbit's corpse with his running hook. It's warm, still twitching.

“Nah, he tried to be honourable; came to me face to face. I respect that, even if I think it was to get me to panic more.”

“Well, that obviously didn't work.” Fit's words are all a chuckle, low, gravelly with misuse. If that hadn't been enough to make Pac quiver, then the way he stared at the mess of blood and guts on the floor, staining Pac's still open scythe, cold and calculating and hungry , would have been.

“Nice scythe,” Fit says, and then squeezes his eyes shut like he can't believe he said something that stupid; Pac feels laughter bubble in his throat, and for a moment they're back home.

“I see,” he says, “you only like me for my scythe.”

He enjoys seeing Fit sputter and blush, loves the look of his handsome cheeks bloody red under the scales, grimy and dirty on his face, the bashful smile stretching his lips.

“Well, it's a very nice scythe. Looks… well-made.”

“It’s not better than my scythe back home.”

“Yeah, I be–”

“What are you doing here, Fit?”

And that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? What is Fit doing, all alone, so close to team Soulfire’s base?

Fit doesn’t answer, mirth blown out of his eyes, mouth set in a grim line, and Pac knows, he knows. He pulls his MDA from his pocket, stares at Fit’s name on the screen, looks back at Fit. “Who do you have to kill?”

Fit’s eyebrows twitch. He doesn’t pull his phone out.

“You.”

It’s like he has to wrench the words out of his throat to say them, but Pac feels a weight lift off of his shoulders, relief settle around his nape like a scarf, his mouth stretch in a smile.

“Oh, thank the Goddess. Now it’s easy. I also have to kill you, you know?”

Fit is staring at him like he doesn’t understand his glee, and to be fair, he probably doesn’t.

“Why don’t we just spar for it, right here, right now? And who loses dies.”

“I’m not killing you,” Fit says.

“Why did you come here, then?”

Fit doesn’t have an answer to that. He swallows empty air, shifts his weight on his feet, doesn’t say anything, eyes—too green, too bright—stuck on Pac.

“Do it for our children,” Pac says, and he knows it’s low, he knows it’s cruel , but he doesn’t care, he needs this, he needs this, after fighting Cell, after winning Cell, the stench of blood and feces still high in the air, he needs this with Fit. He needs to feel him. “We have to do it to save our children.”

“You're cruel, Pac.” He is reaching for his sword.

"I need it, Fit, and so do you.” Pac smiles, takes a step back and raises his hand in a grand gesture. “Will you do me the honour," he's hoarse, with joy, with adrenaline, at the sole thought of getting to taste Fit's blade, "of a dance?"

Fit looks down at his outstretched palm, blood under his nail beds, staining his fingerprints, he looks down at the scythe held tight in Pac's hand.

He smiles at him, all teeth.

"It would be my pleasure."

Pac has never been more in love than he is now. Their blades meet, iron and diamond, and never has Pac's heart sung louder than now, guided by the tempo allegro that their weapons beat. Fit is strong, stronger than Pac, the force behind the blow of his mile-long sword makes Pac’s arms quiver, but he’s strong too, and he’s got the advantage of a hooked blade by his side, of a smaller size and strong legs made for running. He jumps circles around Fit, and the man struggles to follow him, but his face is grim, his eyes are steely, full of the glacial wind of a killer with a target in his crosshairs, Pac is his target and his sword sings for blood and Pac wants nothing more than to let go of his scythe and feel the stinging kiss of needle-sharp diamond as it sinks through his ribs and makes tartare of his guts; his belly rumbles with desire at the sole thought.

But he has to try. He has to give it his all, if nothing else than out of the respect he feels for Fit; he’ll give the man a fair fight.

Fit is quick, is relentless with his sword, chases Pac like inevitable death, but Pac twirls his scythe around, catches every hit with the wooden hilt of his scythe, and the strength of Fit’s arms reverberates through Pac, and he knows the poor wood, if nothing else, is not going to come out of this fair fight unscathed.

A fair fight, apparently, is too much of a challenge for Fit, because it only takes a bit of tussling—a minute? Though it feels like they’ve been fighting for a year—for him to end up flat on the ground, arms pinned under Pac’s thighs. He's still gripping his sword: takes much more than a little fall for his grasp to loosen, and his sword is dangerously close to Pac's bare side; but the blade of Pac's scythe is nestled securely under Fit's chin, where Pac has dreamed and dreamed of tucking his face and sleeping, protected from the world.

It's easy to see who won: Fit doesn't have enough leverage to move his shoulder, or arm, or wrist.

Pac quivers: his body aches to lean into the sword tip barely grazing his hip, like he wants to fall into it, he needs it, needs it, needs it, needs it.

He's throbbing, he realises, pressed in the divot between Fit's pecs, comforting and warm and tight even under the leather armour.

Goddess, he's fucked up.

Cellbit's corpse is still laying down ten feet from the two of them, stinking up the place.

“Well,” Fit gasps, like breathing is hard, “you won.”

He won.

Victory tastes bitter.

“I can't kill you.” It feels like a defeat to admit, but he drops the scythe.

Fit laughs. “So you were just talkin' a big game, eh?”

“Sorry, I… got all worked up over nothing.” He blinks. He wasn’t supposed to win. “I wasn’t supposed to win. Did you let me win?”

“You insult me,” Fit says, smiling, voice just this side of wheezy. He’s still pinned under Pac, and Pac is not putting any effort in not letting all his weight lie on his chest, perhaps because he likes to hear the wheeze. “I wouldn’t just let you win. Why, just because you’re my… roommate?”

Pac feels a smile tug at his lips, tired.

“You wouldn't?”

“You don't give yourself enough credit, Pac. You're a better fighter than me.”

Pac wants to answer, to say something, anything, mock himself because that's all he knows, but then a great force is lifting him, thighs first, and suddenly the world tilts on his axis: he lands on the soft grass, and Fit is curled between his thighs, beautiful, dangerous, terrible. He can feel the stretch in his hip, trying to accommodate Fit's larger body in his, and that’s some unfortunate wording, is it not?

Fit's sword is nestled against the middle of his chest.

Pac closes his eyes.

Now the world is turning in the right direction again.

“What,” comes Fit's voice, torn between amusement and despair, after too long of a pause, “did you think I would kill you?”

And the truth is, despite himself, despite how deeply, desperately, achingly he wishes it so, the truth is one: his heart knows it would never happen. Never in his life has he felt so safe as in Fit's arms: not in the womb, longingly alone, not in his youth, when not even the other half of his soul by his side could lessen the harsh blows that life threw at them, and not now, as a man, ever chased by solitude and despair as he is. Fit's embrace, alone, his voice, his hands, so delicate on him when he knows them capable of such destruction, he feels safe in.

Fit wouldn't kill him, despite how much he wants it.

His skin itches. His throat itches. His eyes itch.

“Fit,” he says, low, whimpery, like a desperate call to the wind, like a plea for mercy, and he can't bring himself to care about that little ‘-tch’ his mouth tacks on at the end, “can I kiss you?”

Fit’s sword clatters to the ground, and he leans down and presses their lips together: he tastes like black tea, strong, bitter, burned. It’s the same kind Tina planted for them, but it’s obvious that no one in team Green is a master steeper. Pac gasps, and all the same tries to tilt his head up, to lean into the kiss, lets his mouth fall open and his tongue run along the ridges of Fit’s lips, chapped, warm, wet. He moans when Fit's tongue wets his lower lip, teeth-plump, when it touches his own tongue, when it coaxes it close for Fit to suck gently on. He’s not an expert kisser, but he more than makes up for it in enthusiasm. Pac moans again, tries to wiggle under Fit until their chests are flush and he can close his legs around his trim waist, get him close, close, Goddess, so close, he needs Fit to crawl into his chest . They kiss like starved, groaning in each other’s lips every time Pac’s legs hitch around Fit’s hips and pull him close enough that their bodies slot together like puzzle pieces.

“Fuck,” Fit groans, tucking his face in the crook of Pac’s sweaty neck, “fuck, how have I been waiting for this.”

“You have?” Pac hears himself asking, like he’s hearing it for the first time, like Fit hasn’t shown him, again and again, the depths of his affection and devotion, and he hasn’t been blind and deaf to it in the wave of his own despair. “Me too,” he says immediately after, lets his arms tighten around Fit’s shoulders, talks into his ear like he wants no one to hear him but Fit, “so long, so long I’ve wanted you, since the beginning, since the first time I saw you, kiss me again.”

Fit kisses him again, lets his hands roam along the too-thin expanse of his underfed chest, his fingers drum against the delicate imprints of his ribs under warm skin, under the thin cotton of his little black bodysuit, steadfast on his skin despite the tears, the dust, the blood that sticks fabric to muscle. Fit’s hands are hungry, hungry, pressing down on him enough that Pac fears tomorrow’s blooming bruises, and yet he knows he’ll be disappointed if tomorrow he finds none.

He’s been marked plenty, and never for good: forgive him if, for once, he wants the marks of ownership on him to be something beloved.

They kiss and kiss, and Pac sighs in Fit's mouth when he feels thumbs slipping under the hem of his shirt to caress at bare, bare skin and press into the divot between hip and thigh, so sensitive and rarely touched, tilts his hips up into the warm, rough touch.

“Please,” he gasps: he has to, because he feels like he's going to lose all grasp on the English language reasonably soon, and he would like Fit's cock inside him before then. “Please, Fit, please.”

What is he pleading for?

Fit groans against the delicate skin of Pac's throat, slips more fingers under his vest like he needs the skin-to-skin touch, “Don't beg me like this, Pac, you'll make me lose my mind.”

“Good, good. I've lost it already, so let's be crazy together.”

They kiss again, and this time it's Pac's hands pulling Fit's tank top from where it's tucked in his jeans, getting at skin, skin, skin, bare, rough, scarred, warm. He thumbs at his belt, and it takes four hands(three, because Fit’s metal hand is keeping him from tumbling face first into Pac), trembling and sweat-slick, to undo it, clicking of metal and leather, and then undo his pants to push them down his thighs just enough to expose his boxers, dark grey, threadbare, damp with a little pearl of wetness that Pac can't help but swipe his thumb into, enjoy the strangled groan Fit gives, tucked in his shoulder.

Armour starts dropping on the soft grass, clinking of diamond and steel, as they start undressing each other, feverish, reverent, and when the armour goes, it’s time for Pac’s jeans to go, too, and Fit stares at creamy, tan skin slowly revealing itself before his very eyes as Pac undoes them and shoves them off, at the way denim barely catches on the delicate hinges of his prosthetic, the sudden smell of arousal that wafts through the air and makes his nostrils twitch, sensitive. He wants, he wants, just as much as Pac does, and isn’t that a relief?

He’s laying in the grass now, legs bare against the chill, briefs tented and wet with his arousal, and he wraps his knees around Fit’s hips again, just so he can grind against him, let their arousals get acquainted. It feels good , and Fit’s breathy groan when their hips press together, separated by only two thin layers of threadbare cotton, is probably the best music Pac has ever heard, rough and wild, muffled with teeth on his throat. Fit’s hand, warm and rough, closes around his hip, thumbing at the hem of his briefs like he’s shy to pull it off, like they’re bashful young lovers on their first fuck and not… whatever they are, warriors, killers, hunters, monsters. So he tilts his hips up into the tender touch, enough for Fit to get the hint, and reaches down to pull the damn thing down, and now there’s cool air on his cock, less sharp than Fit’s gaze but making him shiver all the same, and warm, warm hands, rough with sword callouses, close around his skin with force enough to bruise; he keens a too-loud noise that has his blood freezing in his veins, has Fit’s too-green eyes darting around the clearing they’re in, settling on the dark trees surrounding them, the red sky above them, the mushy remains of a man staring emptily at the two of them like they might decide to get up and start biting. His cock throbs, scorching hot against Pac’s fluttering folds.

Only when he’s satisfied enough with the stillness of the air does he go back down to mouth at Pac’s throat, panting like a dog. Pac knows that kind of ardour, has felt it himself, many times, for many men, but to feel it aimed at himself is…

Indescribable.

He shifts his legs, tightens the lock of his ankles on Fit’s lower back; the movement presses him down, close, cock grinding into Pac’s cunt like it belongs there, and yet the man seems shy to reach down and tug it inside, through his low, rumbly, desperate moaning.

“Wh–what are you waiting for?” Pac hears himself asking. Tsk, tsk, breathless already like a teenager on his first tryst.

“I–it’s just… Is this really what you want, Pac?” Goddesses above, how infuriating that the man manages to look earnest through the traffic lights he’s got in place of eyes, and how much more infuriating that it looks terribly attractive, with his flushed cheeks and sweaty forehead and haunted expression like he’s terrified of being rejected, and that’s just silly, because Pac is a second away from wrestling a hand between the two of them and tugging Fit’s cock in his cunt himself. “I–I mean, I don’t want you to feel, you know, forced , or anything, or, like, is this just the adrenaline of the fight, I, uh…”

“Did you not hear what I said before?” Pac asks, and Fit looks panicked enough to spur him on and not let the poor man talk his own erection down, “I’ve wanted to have sex with you since, like, day one. When we crashed on the island, after you guys rescued us, I’m, like, pretty sure I went to bed for a week straight thinking about you with your shirt stuck to your chest from the rain. If you don’t fuck me right now I might go insane.”

As if to underline that point, he does actually reach between their warm bodies to tickle a hand around Fit’s cock, warm, thick, tip flushed red and glistening. He flutters his fingers, tight and then loose, and Fit moans a, frankly, whorish noise, high and trembling into Pac’s neck, and his hips follow Pac’s gentle coaxing like well-trained dogs; his cock slips inside like a knife retreating to the warmth of its sheath, and Fit moans again, the temple of his body wracked by a shuddering earthquake that almost sends him careening down.

He stays up, thankfully, holds himself up with both hands caging Pac’s head in, and gives a single, powerful thrust. Pac moans, kisses the discoloured skin of Fit’s fleshy forearm, lets his lips linger over pale lines of old, beloved scarring, and enjoys the way Fit shudders with every butterfly touch.

Fit's thrusting is shuddery, but methodical: little rhythmic jerks of his chin beat the tempo, as if he is counting the seconds between each thrust inside his head to ensure a perfect clockwork, and that is such a goofy thought, in-character as it is, that a chuckle puffs out of Pac's chest, and he curls his arms around his neck to pull him in a kiss, lap along his lips and coax his tongue out. He moans pretty in Pac's mouth when he starts sucking on his tongue; his hips lose their perfect rhythm and instead start pistoning in and out as fast as they can go, uneven and shaking with the effort of a movement never tried before, and now that feels good, the nearly-dry rubbing pistoning into him, so harsh it feels like it's tearing up Pac's insides, yes, yes, yes , more.

But Fit deserves better, better than this, better than harsh sandy earth under them and whipping wind and patchy red sky and dry-fucking under the bug-eyes attention of freshly killed prey.

So he pushes Fit away despite his half-pained whining—Goddess, the dryness was hurting him too, huh?—and spits on his hand, spits again for good measure, lets the thick, foamy fluid coat his glove before he reaches down to smear it on Fit’s cock, let it mix with his own wetness and the pearl of pre shining on his glans, and Fit cries out when he guides him back in, slide made easier by the spit.

“Fuck,” he groans, “Fuck, you—your… you feel good.”

That's cute.

“You feel good too,” Pac tells him, because it's true. “You're so warm and you fill me up so well when you thrust in, I can't wait to be so full of you I'll feel it dripping down my legs all the way back to my base.”

Something jumpstarts in Fit, a croaky gasp punched out of him, and the brutal pace starts up again. It's cute, in a way: Fit is mindless, chasing his own pleasure and gasping and twitching as if already on the brink of an orgasm, like a teenager fucking his first cunt. It's very cute, the way he cries out Pac's name every time he clenches around him, just because he can, just to be a dick.

Pac takes his wrist, the one made of flesh, discoloured and scarred, and brings his hand down between the two of them, guides him gently into tugging gentle circles on his cock. Fit is many things, and among those is a quick study: he takes to the movement as a bird to flying, spits on his hand and touches Pac, drinks in his every moan with trembling ardour until he is gasping wetly, stilling deep as he can go inside, and Pac can feel him twitch and spurt out pleasure, painting him white and taken with a pitiful whine just this side of ashamed.

He doesn't pull out immediately, which is already its own victory: but he stays still, panting heavily with his thumb pressed into Pac's cock, until he whines a strangled, uncomfortable sound, and immediately Fit picks his pace back up like the trooper he is, uncaring of the mess or his softening cock; at least, he tries to. He gives up after half a dozen thrusts, hissing his discomfort, and gives up to swirling his thumb in hypnotic circles, letting his fingers flutter along the jagged edges of Pac's lips to the rhythm of his broken praise, because despite how little Fit’s lasted, Pac is ridiculously close, himself.

“How ca–can I help,” Fit gasps, half-panicked as if fearing Pac will just up and leave, disgusted by his rapid performance, “Tell me how to help, I'll do it.”

Pac is struck by the very alluring image of Fit kneeling between his legs, face soiled with his own cum, nose buried in his bush.

Another time.

After they’ve all made it back to Quesadilla Island, where he'll be able to properly woo Fit on his soft bed in Chume Labs.

Man, he misses his soft bed in Chume Labs.

Instead, he shakes his head, “Just–just keep going, just like this, f–finger me, I'm so close–”

Fit immediately presses his index finger in, deep as it will go, the intrusion almost coquettish after having felt his cock.

“Good, go–good boy,” the finger twitches, his thumb stutters, “n–now curl it in, like you're telling someone to come close.”

Fit follows instructions like he was made for it. It takes very little, gentle coaxing and angling his hips into the stimulation, for Fit to catch the gist, start looking for the spots that make him sob all on his own, uncaring of the sticky mess dripping down his wrist, and when Pac comes, he comes with a shout, back arching and then falling like a poppet with cut strings.

They stay still a while after Fit gingerly slips his fingers out of Pac's cunt, the only movement the heavy fall of their breaths.

Pac is sleepy. Fit's eyes are droopy.

“We should… go back to our bases.” He tries, gravelly and hoarse.

Pac just nods. “Well, you would have to get off of me for that.”

Fit grunts, buries his head back in Pac's neck.

They’ll get up.

They'll get back to Purgatory.

Right now, they just want to rest.

#knight's notebook #qsmp #fitpac #hideduo #fitmc #pactw

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