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bakubunny · 8 months

Text

a kindhearted hero

mdni: 18+ content. yes, i do check. you will be blocked.

a/n: here’s the full one shot of the opening excerpt i posted recently. special thanks to my lovely mutual, @shinsos-puppet/@arlerts-angel for sparking the idea. i’ve never written eijirou at length in anything, so i really hope i did our sweet, best boy justice. 💜 - bunny

pairing: pro hero!kirishima eijirou x plus size fem!reader

wc: 4.7k

summary: red riot sees you, a civilian, lookin’ cute with your friends and dynamight gets tired of hearing him gush about it. he takes matters into his own hands by being kirishima’s (asshole) wingman. kiri x reader fluff and eventual smut ensues.

tags: pro hero!kirishima; fem!reader; plus size!reader; aged up characters; fluff and smut; mention of alcohol; explicit consent; lots of pet names, pretty girl, baby, babygirl, angel, sweetheart, sweetie, princess, good girl; praise; encouragement; daddy as title (a few lines towards the end); teasing; grinding; nipple play (f receiving); fingering (f receiving); oral sex (f receiving); rough sex; multiple orgasms; pronebone; unprotected sex with a stranger (it’s not even discussed); creampie; kiri is a nervous sweetheart for the first half; kiri is taller now and has bulked tf up; kiri has a huge dick and i’m not sorry; kiri loves soft bodies, i don’t make the rules; kiri gets possessive; strength/muscle kink; manhandling; size kink if you squint a little

excerpt:

Kirishima stopped. He studied your face.

“What?” you asked.

His brow furrowed. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Huh?”

He took your face in his hands. “I’ve been telling you all night how I feel about you, but you don’t believe me.”

You gave a nervous look. He wasn’t wrong.

“Oh, you beautiful girl. I’m gonna fuck that right out of you.”

ok now buckle up buttercup and enjoy the ride. 😘

A scowling blond man walked over from a nook nearby in the club. The closer you looked, it was no less than Dynamight, the number two hero in all of Japan, dressed casually. What the heck was he doing staring you down, a civilian nobody?

“Hey, princess, y’see the guy with the shitty red hair?” he said, pointing in the direction he came from. “‘S Kirishima. He thinks you’re gorgeous, but he’s too much of a wuss to come talk to you. Will you let him buy you a drink so he’ll shut his damn mouth?”

There was only one redhead with “shitty hair” you’d ever heard of in the news in relation to Dynamight, but it couldn’t be that one, right?…

“I-I’m sorry, what?” you said.

You smiled, holding back a look of disbelief, but he must have caught it. He sighed loudly and turned to look the other way. It was dark enough that you couldn’t quite make out the man in the distance.

“Oi! Shitty hair! Get’cher ass over here, she’s not buyin’ it,” he shouted with an irritated look.

A tall, broad-shouldered redhead got up and began moving towards your table, head tucked down and rubbing his neck. He looked up and met your eyes, smiling with cheeks almost as red as his hair. It was that redhead - Red Riot, to be exact. Your eyes went wide and your face flushed.

“Oh no, I’m sorry, I think you’re at the wrong table,” you said, flustered.

This has to be a joke, right? He can’t be serious. There’s no way someone like him could be interested in you. You’d heard and seen in interviews that Dynamight wasn’t exactly nice, but he wouldn’t pull some sort of childish stunt like this as an adult, would he? As a pro hero?

“No, I’m not at the wrong fucking table,” he sneered, crossing his arms.

Red Riot approached the both of you. “Sorry about him, he can be a bit of an ass. I don’t-”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m doing you a favor,” Dynamight said, cutting him off. He turned to you. “This is my friend Kirishima, also known as Red Riot. You should give him a chance.”

Dynamight turned back to Kirishima. “You’re fucking welcome. Play nice,” he said, giving him a clap on the shoulder before walking away.

You both froze awkwardly for a moment before breaking into quiet laughter. He looked you in the eye with a smile.

“I uh…. I hope that’s okay, though,” he said nervously. “You’re absolutely stunning. I’d love to buy you a drink.”

You blushed, smiling in return. “I’d like that a lot.”

You glanced to the two friends you came with that night for approval. The look they had was what you’d expected; one that said, “Are you crazy?? Go!” but they grinned nonetheless as you stood from the seat you were at.

******

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the dimness of the atmosphere. Maybe it was the fact that you were falling hard for this guy. But you’d swear Kirishima looked even prettier in real life than anything you’d ever seen or imagined. Shaggy hair, clean and pulled back into a messy bun instead of his signature spiked style, stray pieces falling around his face at the front. Crimson eyes that were bright with joy and crinkled at the corners when he laughed. Slightly tanned skin from spending almost a decade on the field as a pro hero. Laugh lines that had barely begun to settle in from sun exposure and his brilliant, sharp toothed smile that rarely seemed to fade. Though it was only the two of you in your little corner, he had the ability to light up a room just by being there.

And it was hard to believe that he was here, sitting knee to knee with you. Showering you with compliments. Listening intently as he learned the details of your civilian life. Asking questions about your pets, excitedly gushing over pictures, and showing interest in your career. Brushing his thigh against yours. Leaning in to hear what you had to say. Turning faintly pink when you grasped his hand with a laugh before quickly pulling away with a blush of your own. Reaching for your hand and holding it under the table…. Yours was small in his massive hand, and despite being well used and calloused, they were still so soft. (He claimed his friend Ashido once told him he “needed to moisturize his scratchy skin,” and found that it helped him heal, so he stuck with it.)

Kirishima had this innate way of making you feel protected, and you’re pretty sure it had nothing to do with his hero status. All while making the apex of your thighs hot and your cheeks warm.

Okay, so you had to admit, you’d secretly had a little bit of a crush on Red Riot - now Kiri, he’d insisted - before you met him tonight. He was handsome, strong, kind, and humble in any media you’d ever seen him in. Who could blame you for swooning a little inside every time you saw him? (No one. That’s who.) The best part was that none of it was fake. He was honest, sincere, and you could see it in his eyes.

Minutes turned into hours. You’d both switched to drinking water long ago. The number of people in the club had started to dwindle. Yet you were still wrapped up in conversation.

He’d assured your friends that you’d get home safely - a hero’s promise - when they stopped by to say they were heading out. Gave Bakugou (was that what Kiri called him?) a smile and nod of acknowledgement as he and a few other hero faces you recognized from the media moved towards the door. The hero with pink skin and a brightly colored dress gave an excited wave goodbye as they passed. Come to think of it, you were surprised he wasn’t with her, another hero. A pretty hero. But you noticed Bakugou’s hand guiding her by the small of her back, keeping her close as they worked their way through the crowd. You shoved those thoughts down as Kirishima gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Listen, I know it’s getting late, but I don’t want this to end,” Kirishima said. “I promised I would get you home safely, and I’ll do that. Buuuut if you want, we can go back to my place and watch a movie.”

He caught the flicker of hesitation on your face, silently wondering if this had been his goal all along, but not opposed to the idea.

His face grew red, eyes wide at what he might be suggesting. “I did mean just a movie! You’re really beautiful and nice to talk to, that’s all I meant. I’m not looking for a fling. Please, don’t get the wrong impression,” he rambled quickly. “B-but I do want that with you! I want you, I just-”

“Kiri. Slow down. It’s okay.” You gave a reassuring smile.

His shoulders relaxed slightly and he smiled as he tucked his head, rubbing his neck. You noticed the way his nervous habit highlighted his massive bicep and shoulder.

“I think that sounds great. I’d love to spend more time with you… no matter what that looks like,” you said, heat rushing to your face as you caught his glance again.

His eyes held a glimmer of hope as he looked down at you. “Really?”

“As long as you can promise me I’ll get a proper date someday soon,” you replied.

“You got it, pretty girl. Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said, grinning.

There was a shift in the silence you shared. Kirishima hesitated, a question in his eyes.

“Can I?…”

“Yes.”

His free hand reached for your face and pulled you in eagerly for a kiss, full of heat and tenderness as your lips met. It knocked the air out of you as your fingers tightened around the hand entwined in your own beneath the table. It was gentle, slow, his thumb stroking your cheek for a moment. Heat built rapidly between your legs, almost throbbing at his touch.

When the kiss broke, you stared into those gorgeous red eyes knowing you were absolutely fucked. This man had you, and there was no way you’d let him go.

******

The door closed with a soft click as you slipped off your shoes. You turned to Kirishima and realized that he was bigger than you’d thought in dim lighting. He was taller, broader, bulkier than the image you’d had in your head.

“So,” you said.

“So,” he repeated.

A shared laugh broke the tension. Kirishima reached for your face with both hands and leaned in to kiss you, pulling the breath right out of your chest again. It was all consuming, the way his hands cradled your face, fingers already tangling in the hair around your neck. His kisses were warm and sweet.

“Come here,” he whispered as he lifted you into his arms.

You let out a small yelp as he did, wrapping yourself around him more to keep from falling than anything else. “What are you doing?”

Kirishima flashed a cheeky grin. “Unless you want me to stop, I’m doing what I want,” he replied, leaning in for another kiss.

It was visceral, how quickly embarrassment and fear flooded your face with heat as you reciprocated. “Y-you don’t - I’m too-”

“Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t even say it.” Kirishima had a sharp look in his eyes.

“But-” you protested.

“Baby, I train six days a week. I save people for a living. I can carry you,” he said, unwavering, a soft smile forming across his lips.

A flash of warmth hit your cheeks again. You buried your face in his shoulder as it hit you just how strong he was. Kirishima chuckled and turned to walk towards what you presumed was his bedroom. His lips met your skin, placing kisses along the side of your neck. You whimpered softly as a shiver slipped down your neck.

“C’mon now, don’t get shy on me,” he teased. “Haven’t even started.”

“Shush you,” you replied.

Every bit of you was growing hotter by the second with Kirishima’s hands on your body and his lips, fucking hell, how did you already feel a little weak? He laid you down on his bed as he leaned back onto his knees. Reverent crimson eyes raked over you in a short sundress, barely riding up to reveal the tops of your thighs.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he said quietly.

You blushed and gave him a smile.

There was a twinge in your stomach. A thread of doubt. One that said, “but I still have clothes on.” You pushed it down.

You pulled Kirishima closer as he drew you in with firm kisses and a gentle suck on your bottom lip. With your legs wrapped around his middle, your hands wandering over his back and shoulders, you were still in disbelief that this was happening. His hand ran down your side as he moaned deeply, gripping the soft flesh of your hip. His lips grew needy as they moved down your neck, finding a spot that made you pant as your head spun.

A groan rumbled in his chest, sending chills over your skin as his hips pushed into yours; your eyes snapped open, your throat caught. Kirishima rolled his body into you again and holy fuck he was huge. You let out a high pitched whine rather than the moan you anticipated. There’s no fucking way this man is real, you thought as he continued, pulling soft moans from your lips. You cursed under your breath.

“Hmm?” he said with a tone that suggested he already knew.

“Jus’ feels good,” you replied.

Kirishima kissed his way back to your lips as he pushed harder into you, a louder moan bubbling out of you as your cunt fluttered under the thin panties you wore and the heat of his cock.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Y’so big, Kiri,” you said between kisses.

He paused to look you in the eye. “‘S that okay? Won’t hurt my feelings if you say no, honest. I don’t want you t’be scared.”

“More than okay,” you replied, heat rising to your cheeks. “I like it a lot. ‘S what I was kinda hoping for.”

Kirishima's eyes lit up with a flicker of relief as though you’d sung a tune he’d rarely heard. He kissed you hard. “Fuck, you’re just perfect, aren’t you, angel?”

Another thread tugged at your chest. “He’s saying that to sleep with me.”

You smiled playfully. It didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I dunno about perfect, but that’s very sweet of you.”

Kirishima stopped. He studied your face.

“What?” you asked.

His brow furrowed. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Huh?”

He took your face in his hands. “I’ve been telling you all night how I feel about you, but you don’t believe me.”

You gave a nervous look. He wasn’t wrong.

“Oh, you beautiful girl. I’m gonna fuck that right out of you,” he said.

Kirishima crashed his lips into yours, drawing a whimper from your lips. His mouth didn’t leave you for a second as he picked up where you left off, kissing down over your neck and chest, his hands on your ass. He slid your dress up and groaned at the sight.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking soft,” he said, kisses trailing over your stomach. “So pretty. So perfect.”

The heat of his massive hands washed over you as they wandered your body. Kirishima’s fingers dug gently into your flesh. Clothes rapidly began piling onto the floor; his shirt, your dress, his pants, your bra. His hands immediately went for your chest where he scattered kisses on your skin as he groped, moaning softly when his lips took your nipple into his mouth. Your breath grew heavy. You moaned in return as he sucked and licked the swollen bud. The hot ache between your thighs built as he took his time with each one, only encouraged by your whimpering and the way your hips bucked with need. You felt a rush of sensations as Kirishima began grinding his cock into your leg, an empty flutter and a shiver sliding over you. You reached down to relieve your throbbing clit, but he grabbed your wrist.

“Patient girls get what they want. ‘M not done,” he mumbled.

And fuck if that didn’t just make you ache even more. “Kiri, please.…”

Letting go, his hand slid down over your cunt. He gently rubbed and groaned against your skin when your hips pushed into his hand.

“‘S it, pretty girl, show me what you need,” he said.

And you did, moaning and grinding into him. After making quick work of discarding the last of both your clothes, Kirishima opened your legs and cursed. He ran his hands up your thighs, lips not far behind.

Insecurity began to slip away as you saw Kirishima’s cock twitch as it hung, swollen, hard and red at the sight of you. All of him made you hotter - the look in his eye, broad shoulders and thick arms you had been imagining around your legs all night, strong thighs you wished were caging you at the hips, and a heavy cock that had to be as big as your face, so thick you didn’t think you could wrap your hand around it. He was so kind. He looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, like you’d hung the stars just for him. And he going to fuck you dumb.

A shiver ran down your spine and you blushed.

“You’re amazing,” Kirishima said.

You thought to respond as his mouth reached your inner thigh and you gasped. He slid a thick finger into your cunt and pumped slowly. Already, you could feel yourself fluttering and weeping around his hand as you moaned. He slipped a second finger in, slightly curled and reaching a tender spot you couldn’t quite get on your own.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, angel. Don’t stop, I wanna hear your pretty voice,” he said.

Heat rolled over your body. Kirishima sloppily kissed his way around your pussy, never settling where you wanted him.

“Kiri… need you.”

“Yeah? Whatcha need?” he replied with a little smirk.

Your head fell back, letting out a small groan in frustration as he teased.

“Eyes on me,” Kirishima said.

Heat rushed to your face. You locked eyes with him and reached for his head with a soft “please,” guiding him to your clit. He kissed and licked gently, taking it into his mouth. It didn’t take long for intense pleasure to fall over your body. You grabbed hold of his free hand resting on your stomach as the tension in your body built, legs starting to shake.

Kirishima hummed with satisfaction. “Such a sweetheart. C’mon babygirl, you can do it. Jus’ let go. ‘M right here.”

The skill of his mouth pushed you over the edge. His lust-hooded eyes stared into yours as your climax broke with a whining moan. You trembled as it washed over you. He carried you through with his tongue, treating your cunt with care until your body calmed.

“Good girl,” he said.

Your eyes went wide briefly and he smirked. “You like hearing that?”

“Didn’t expect it,” you said.

“Not what I asked.” Kirishima took his hand from you and stroked his cock, covering himself in your cum.

You weren’t sure how, but the tables had turned; now you were the one who was easily flustered while he had every ounce of confidence and a twinkle in his eye.

“Maybe I did a little, yeah,” you said.

“Good. Now tell me, pretty girl, how do you like to be fucked?” he said.

You grabbed a pillow and laid on your stomach with it under your hips and gave your ass a little shake, smiling back at him. “Like this. Come get it.”

“You’re not gonna let me stare into those gorgeous eyes of yours?” he said playfully, lining himself up behind you, rubbing the head of his cock along your folds.

“Maybe next time I’ll ride you. How’s that?” you quipped, peeking his face for a moment as he huffed a laugh and turned pink.

“Y’ready baby? Might hurt but I promise I’ll be gentle.” The heat and thickness of his cock head had you pushing into him as he teased.

“Yes. I can take it, please,” you said.

“You sure? You sound so pretty like this…” he purred.

You blushed. The sound of your wet cunt was obscene and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.

“We can take it easy… go real slow…” he insisted.

“Kiri I swear if you don’t-ohfuckohfuck”

He was already halfway in, pushing deeper as you panted heavily and groaned. Kirishima looked down at you and saw your eyes roll, face laid into the sheets. He pushed himself in fully and you gasped. The slight sting didn’t matter in comparison to the pleasure, goosebumps covering your body.

“Fucking hell Kiri you’re huge and perfect holyshitfucknnngh.”

“Need me to stop already?” His lightly patronizing tone would have been irksome if it weren’t for the fact that you were split wide open and full to the brim with his cock, your pussy clenching hard as he stayed still.

You whipped your head around as far as you could. “Don’t you fucking dare,” you said. It was meant to sound threatening in the same way he had earlier, but it came out desperate and needy. You swallowed hard. “Please.”

You caught him grinning ear to ear as slowly, gently, he started fucking you in long strokes, your moans quickly filling the room. You grabbed another pillow in a vain attempt to muffle the sound. The intensity of the pleasure was overwhelming as your cunt stretched and the sting subsided into bliss.

Kirishima’s hands ran over your ass and up your body as he fucked you, relishing the way your ass moved with him, the way your cunt drew him all the way in over and over as you got wetter. “Fuck you feel so good, angel. Can’t get enough of you. Love watching you take my cock so well. Such a perfect little pussy.”

“Kiri…” you whined, “‘s so good, so fucking good, ‘s perfect.”

Your thoughts were jumbled with the way he had you unraveling with each tender stroke - just enough to feel his hips kissing yours as he pulled you up and into him slightly. The pressure of each thrust against your cunt made you flutter.

“‘N don’t stop after I cum. I can take it,” you said.

You heard a shy laugh behind you. “You like my cock that much, hm?” Kirishima said, leaning down briefly to kiss across your shoulder.

“I do. Y’so fucking big. Feels so good, Kiri. Need you inside me.” Chills ran through you as he hit that deep, sensitive spot behind your cervix that made your feet tingle and your breath stop, orgasm hanging overhead.

“F-fuck, b-baby, right there, don’t stop,” you said. Your mind fell into an empty haze as your legs began to tremble. “I think ‘m c-close.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me, princess? Gonna cum on my cock without any help?” he replied.

Your answer was in moans as your back arched and your vision went white. The heat of his hands, his grip tightening on your hips, his encouragement had bliss crashing down over you.

“‘S it, that’s what I like to hear. Let it all out. Cum for me, sweetheart. Make a pretty mess on my cock.” Kirishima moaned as he felt you clench hard around him, watching you come undone for a second time. It was dizzying holding himself back, your cunt like a vice he never wanted to leave. His hips stuttered for a moment, but he continued with a low grunt.

“Such a good girl…” Kirishima said, lacing your skin with kisses as his pace increased.

Your head was spinning with pleasure, sensations radiating up your spine, curling down your legs, trying to process his words fully and failing. “Yes, harder. Fuck me. Please, Kiri… please. Need your cock.”

He groaned. “Y’make it so hard not t’cum with you. Y’know that, angel?” Kirishima grabbed a large fistful of hair at the scalp and pulled gently, lifting your face away from anything that could muffle your moans as his hips collided harder into you, sending electricity over your skin as you panted and let out a cry. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. So soft. So beautiful, every part of you. Y’sound so fucking pretty. Y’feel so damn good, I almost couldn’t stop myself.”

His quiet praise hit you hard and unexpectedly - a wave of heat and tension building in your body, amplified by the grip he had on your hair. The previous one had felt like it hardly passed, but another orgasm was winding itself around your core in anticipation.

“Oh fuck, ‘m sorry, I…mmm.” Your knuckles went white gripping the pillow under your head.

“Hey, hey, no sorry,” he said, his grip falling loose and moving to your side. He could feel how close you were getting with every passing movement, willing his body to hold off once more. “I love it. Y’need to cum again, sweetie?”

“Please,” you replied.

You made movement to reach for your clit a second time, but Kirishima’s hand was quick and found its way there first.

“Nuh uh. ‘M gonna make you cum, baby. You just relax. Can y’do that for me?” he said.

“Mhm.” You nodded dumbly, giving in to his request.

Kirishima’s thick fingertips gently rubbed your swollen clit, a whimper at your throat. Goosebumps trailed across your body as pulled you closer, closer, and over the edge as he fucked you. The lewd sound of your cunt as you came on him drove Kirishima crazy, sweat running down his body. He was drunk on your pussy, fucking you still when sensitivity finally hit.

It was overwhelming but not enough all at once, the feeling of his cock bullying your swollen folds. You reached back to stop him, but he grabbed your wrist, looming over you to put it back where it was.

“Kiri, ‘s too much, please,” you said.

“You can take it, babygirl. Just one more for me, yeah? I know you can do it.” Kirishima’s voice was a mixture of sweet and ragged.

You groaned heavily. “One more,” you repeated. “But c’mere, closer.”

He wrapped himself around you, arms sliding under yours, the burning heat and weight of his body against your back. “Like this?”

“Yes, fuck,” you whined.

You could feel sweat on his chest, the movement of each thrust as he started again, every groan, drunk on the girth and heft of his cock slamming into you, his heavy balls hitting your clit.

Your body began to tremble. “Need t’feel you on me, don’ go, please.”

“Aww, y’really are a little sweetheart, huh?” Kirishima cooed. “Just love bein all wrapped up n safe in my arms while I take care of your pretty pussy.”

“Yes, d-mmmfuck.” You cut yourself off and hid your face.

“‘S okay, angel. You can say it if y’want,” he said gently. “Doesn’ bother me.”

“I can’t,” you said, your cheeks hot.

His voice lowered. “Yes you can. Lemme hear it. Say yes, daddy.”

“Yes, daddy,” you replied weakly.

Kirishima’s thrusts got sloppier as hot, wet kisses hit a tender spot on the crook of your neck. You grabbed and kissed his hand and pushed your hips back to meet his thrusts. He growled into your skin.

“‘S it, baby. That’s my girl. That’s my good fucking girl. My pretty little angel. Take my fucking cock,” he said softly, his breath hot against your ear.

“D-don’ say that,” you slurred, knowing full well that he could hear the way you whimpered and moaned when he did. Knowing he could feel you fluttering erratically around him.

“Why not, hmm?” Kirishima replied. “Y’really think ’m gonna let a pretty little thing like you get away after tonight, lookin’ so perfect, cummin’ all over my cock like this? Beggin’ me not to stop cause y’need more? Bein’ so sweet n lovely that I can’t help but fuck you ‘til you fall apart? ‘Til you know I mean what I say?”

Words failed you as he fucked harder, movements sharper as his orgasm neared. Your head fell forward into the sheets with a loud moan. “N-no.”

“‘S right, princess. ‘M not. ‘M gonna keep you ‘s long ‘s you’ll have me.” Kirishima’s muscles burned from exertion as he spoke, but he didn’t care.

He loved the way your breath went quick and shallow when he found just the right spot that made you tremble, savored the way your moans grew louder and your eyes rolled the harder he went. He got lost in the heat of your breath and the taste of your skin, the perfect way he could rail into you without being gentle or holding back because you needed every bit of him. It made his skin hot, the absolute mess you were making around his cock, fluttering and squeezing him hard enough to lose his damn mind as he moaned into your ear, his grip around your body getting tighter.

“Don’ stop, daddy, please. ‘M close,” you said. It was intoxicating, the way his skin felt against yours, the way each thrust knocked a little bit of the breath out of your lungs as another orgasm drew near. “Cum with me?”

“‘S that what you want, angel? Want me t’cum inside you?” he asked.

“Please, wanna feel you cum,” you said.

Kirishima groaned low in his chest as his need for you took over. His lips and teeth continued to graze your skin with open mouthed kisses as he came, his throbbing cock pushing you over the edge a final time as he fucked you full of cum. You laid together panting until silence took hold.

After a quiet moment, Kirishima pulled out and spread your ass gently, watching his cum trickle down your swollen pussy and thick, soft thighs.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he said. “You’re the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

mdni banner created by the lovely @cafekitsune.

manga color edit is mine @bakubunny.

1K notes · View notes

groceryreceiptss · 6 months

Note

hii! could you do peeta melark x reader? just some domestic sunday morning cuddling :) thanks so much!

'cause it's gravity, keeping you with me

peeta mellark x reader | word count : 0.9k | requested

a/n : hii!! to be honest, i wasn't really sure on how to write this so i'm really sorry if this wasn't what you had in mind, but i tried my best, and i hope you'll enjoy reading it either way! :) thank you for the request < 33 (also yes, i know the picture i chose doesn’t quite match the theme of this fic but look at him!! and look at that golden light on his face!!!)

contains : baddd writing. fluff -> soft intimacy!! but a bit of angst too if you squint. you know, longings and a sense of vulnerability. feelings of hopelessness and despair in the past. let me know if there's more!

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the soft morning sun drifted its way to your face, resting its warm light against your closed eyes. you were just about to give yourself an excuse to sleep in a bit later before you subconsciously remembered that, today is a sunday. no business in waking up early then, you thought, as you pulled the blanket closer.

you shifted a bit and shuffled in closer to peeta’s body next to you. His breathing met at the same pace as yours and his heartbeat the same thrum as the one you had going.

peeta mellark. you knew it was silly to dwell on what could have and would have, but every day, each morning, as you woke up to his comforting presence next to you, you couldn’t help but wonder, what would your life have become, if he hadn’t been there to keep it going?

the war had destroyed everything, leaving trails of loss in its path, wider than the land itself. you didn’t know what you would have done, if you hadn’t seen him again. if he hadn’t come back to your life and reminded you that there were still reasons to live and try to heal for.

and every day you woke up feeling more grateful than the day before.

you didn’t know if an hour had passed, or had it been merely minutes later, when you felt peeta’s arms on your waist, pulling you back onto his chest, engulfing you in more of his warmth, his comfort. his head nested on the crook of your neck, his messy golden blonde hair on your cheek.

in response and out of habit, you brought your hands to his curls, smoothing them softly.

“y/n, sweetheart?” he muttered, and you could feel his lips on your shoulder, sending vibrations onto your skin and bone. it was crazy how he could still make your heart skipped a beat like it was the first time.

“hm?” you responded, still not ready to part with sleep too much to say anything else.

his lips lost touch with your skin and moved on to your ear, whispering, “turn around, look at me please.”

and so you slowly did. with your eyes still refusing to open, you felt his fingers playing with your hair, pulling them off your forehead.

“morning, sleepyhead.” he chuckled, and you could tell that he was playfully rolling his eyes. he kissed your temple slowly, and you let your eyes flutter open.

rubbing your eyes in an effort to erase the sleep out of them, you mumbled, “how are you already awake? it’s sunday.”

“old habits die hard,” he’d answered before you felt his hands on your wrists, stroking them softly with his thumbs.

you placed your arms around his chest, and as if on cue, he pulled you closer to him, earning him a soft sigh. “do you think it’s physically possible for us to get any closer?” he wondered aloud with a way too cute smile on his face.

still not entirely conscious, you muttered without thinking, “maybe once our bodies have withered into skeletons." oh, you caught yourself. “oh wait, that's dark.”

he let out a light laugh at your scrunched up eyebrows. “i love you.”

you looked up at him, into his deep beautiful blue eyes. his eyelashes are so long. “i love you too, peet.”

and you did, you really did. you told him that everyday, but you never did think it was enough. it was so dramatic to actually utter it, but you truly didn’t think there was enough variety in the english dictionary to fully capture this. this thing that passed between you and him.

as if hearing your quiet thoughts, maybe your eyes had displayed a moment of fragility in them, he responded saying, “i know, love, i know.”

the grip on your waist held on tighter, like it was scared if it faltered, then it would lose. you mirrored his gesture and snuggled your head further into his chest, the top of your head touching his chin.

“you want to get some breakfast?” he mumbled into your tousled hair.

you thought about it for a second, but then shook your head. you looked up at him, a wide smile etched onto your face. “no, i’m good here.”

you didn’t want to leave this yet, this sacred place. one where you could feel his signs of life all around you, one where you could shut the entire world all around you and its bleak reality and made it only consist of you and him. peeta mellark.

was it possible to fall further in love with the same person every time you heard his name in your head? was it possible to have the same name echoed through your head over and over like a promise?

you saw his lips formed into a bigger smile, his fingers played with the strands of your hair.

maybe you knew, maybe you didn’t, but all he could think about at this very moment was how he had gotten so lucky. to have you here beside him, letting him love you and and letting him show it to you. he looked at your face, with that big smile on it, eyes still bleary from sleep. you were so beautiful, my god.

he nodded, agreed. he didn’t want to leave too. if he could stay here forever, he would. it would be like having lived a lifetime itself, he thought. “yeah, me too." he said softly as he planted a kiss on your forehead.

#this is literally the first time i have ever posted any of my fics on... anything so sorry if it's bad <3 #thank you for reading!!#peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark angst #peeta mellark #the hunger games #thg #my writing!#requested

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anteroom-of-death · 7 months

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I need to find more people who wanna fuck the 2003 Captain Hook and not the Once Upon a Time one, or I will start eating fiberglass.

#personal #captain hook #please im so desperate #i have read every hook x reader fic there is for him #jason isaacs #is a mensch #peter pan #peter pan 2003 #captain hook x reader #and im too lazy to put the content out into the world #best i can do is shitposts #lol #i wanna share two cigars at once with him #its Freudian

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR ELEVEN

in which a line is crossed, and a lie is told.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, smut, upside down does not exist, fingering, oral (m receiving, allusions to f receiving), p in v (be like eddie and r! use protection!), use of mean nicknames (slut), ass slapping, hair pulling, minors dni

→ wc: 7.5k+

→ a/n: the smut has arrived! shout out to @abibliophobiaa and @myosotisa my loves for helping me, but also horny hours in general haha. the pep talks were very much needed and very appreciated.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

11:00 ──────ㅇ─────────── 24:00

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

A drink. What you need is a drink.

The moment Robin and Steve brought up the small get together, you’d agreed instinctually. It had been a long month, hard and full of life throwing unexpected punches your way, and the only way you could think to soothe it was with terrible mixed drinks in your friend’s kitchen.

First, it had been the tire on your bike popping. Which in itself wasn’t a catastrophe, but you realized very quickly that going out and about around campus was nearly impossible on foot. You’d shown up to most classes late, not adjusting for the fact you were far slower when walking across campus than you were riding. And then it was your classes; the teachers were already upset as it was in your smaller classes regarding your perpetual tardiness, but to top it all off, every assignment seemed to not be enough. No matter what you submitted, what changes you made to essays sent back to you, it was becoming more impossible to maintain a resemblance of a respectable GPA. You’d nearly flunked a test in your humanities class, when you’d asked for a professor to go back a slide for notes they’d glared and refused the reasonable request. When you’d not understood a question on your literature homework and sent an email plenty of days in advance, the teacher only got back to you once the due date had passed.

And the dates. The terrible, terrible dates of the month.

There was the first guy, who had been kind enough. A simple meeting over coffee and by the time the lattes were cold, you knew there’d be no second date. That was fine. You could live with that.

The second guy had more potential. A first date in a bar was almost a red flag, but after a fun game of pool, you’d agreed to meet again. The second date was at a restaurant that you learned he’d taken his ex-girlfriend to; actually, you’d learned a bit too much about his ex-girlfriend that night. She was the only thing he could talk about, and when you’d later explained that over text for being your reason against a third date, he’d called you every crude name in the book.

And the final guy. A guy you’d really liked, that you’d been messaging back and forth since a month before. He was a busy guy, a bartender and full time student, and you understood – you really did. But he was charismatic and lured you in over the phone, and you hadn’t been so giddy for a date in a while. It felt like there were sparks, like he might be the one.

He didn’t show up. Last night, you’d sat like a fool at the restaurant you two agreed upon for two hours before realizing he wasn’t showing. Sipped your way through two ciders, even picked on an appetizer of fries, telling yourself he’d show up. He was just busy. He’d show up.

He never showed up. He didn’t even text you. The waiter had waived your bill for the night, but his look of pity only made your stomach twist worse.

Pathetic. You felt pathetic.

“We’re all getting together at my place tonight,” Steve had whispered to you during class that morning as you two were packing up things as the lecture ended, “Everyone’s just going to hang out, drink, let loose. You should come.”

And so you came, overly optimistic about the entire idea. You didn’t even think to ask if Eddie was going to be here – even he couldn’t dampen your excitement at a break after the month you’d had, even with his recent mean streak.

Mean. You’d never thought after that first night you’d be able to describe him that way. Cold, sure. Callous, perhaps. Indifferent, of course. But mean? Mean didn’t seem like something others saw Eddie as genuinely capable of. Steve always ranted about how good of a guy he was, Robin would tell fun stories of nights out with him and how much of a good time he was, Nancy considered the guy her best friend. You knew your new friends, and you didn’t take them as being the type to befriend someone so unkind.

But you didn’t see the good guy, the fun guy, the best friend. Whenever Eddie Munson was around you, his guard was up and his words were sharp. They cut through your unbridled disappointment with ease, reminding you that you were not his friend. You weren’t even sure if you were an acquaintance.

And sure, you took it too far at the diner. You could admit that, even before Robin scolded you. But to see him sitting with someone not from your friend group, to see him being so kind and endearing to someone new, had burned you with fury like no other. If he could treat some blonde he’d surely matched with on a dating app so sweetly, why couldn’t he afford you the same warmth? Someone he saw nearly weekly?

So you went for blood. Except, you were the only one wounded in the end, after the silent treatment you’d had to endure as you watched Eddie clench his jaw and pretend you didn’t exist.

“What are you drinking tonight?” Steve smiles when you enter his kitchen, brows still furrowed in careful thought over your miserable month, “I’m guessing something strong?”

“The strongest thing you’ve got, Harrington,” you reply, trying to shake back into excitement. It was going to be fun. You were going to drink with friends, partake in silly conversations no one would remember come morning, and you were going to have fun.

Steve holds up a bottle of vodka, a name brand you don’t care to acknowledge, along with a 2-liter of Coke, “Think this’ll work?”

You nod, and he pours. When he hands you the crystal cup reeking of overpoured alcohol, you take a sip and nod.

Oh, yeah. Two of these and I won’t even remember Mr. Stood-Me-Up.

“I heard about your date,” Steve means well, but the reminder is the exact opposite of what you want. You’re quick to glare at Robin, who throws her hands up in defense.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you quip, taking a larger second sip. If you weren’t trying to pace yourself, you’d probably chug the entire thing, “Not much to talk about, anyways. Got some free food and alcohol out of it, at least.”

“That’s good! I bet you dodged a bullet.”

I probably didn’t. “We can only hope.”

Steve pours himself a drink as well as Robin, and you can hear Nancy and Jonathan already chattering in the living room. No sign of Eddie so far. Maybe he wasn’t coming, and you’d finally caught a break.

“To forgetting the names of men who suck,” Steve chides as he raises his glass, and Robin mirrors him. You hesitate for a moment, a fraction of a second.

You were starting to believe it wasn’t them, it was you. You were the common denominator of all the terrible dates. Did sparks not fly with the Coffee Boy because you dampened the fuse? Was two-date-chump only talking to you about his exes because you didn’t provide anything interesting enough to take his mind off them? Surely, it had to be your fault that you were stood up the night before. Surely.

You pull from your pity party, and nimbly raise your glass. The rim hardly brushes that of your friends’ cups, but you all throw back your poisons of choice regardless. They don’t seem to notice the way you’ve begun to float within your head, the way you’re crashing through violent waves of pathetic self-hatred.

It was you. You’re the problem, and you’re the only one who can solve it. Eventually.

Robin is dramatically gagging on what you think might be redbull and vodka as Steve silently grimaces at his straight whiskey, clearing his throat before he says, “Okay, I know you don’t want to talk about last night, but Robin mentioned you’ve had a few dates this last month. Anything worth sharing? Any luck?”

There’s a snappy remark of clearly not on the tip of your tongue when the doorbell rings down the hall, and the three of you all turn your heads as Nancy calls out that she’s got it.

—

HOUR ELEVEN - 2:00 AM

Once Eddie starts kissing you, he can’t stop.

It isn’t soft, nor caring – the moment his hands meet the flesh of your hips, it’s bruising. He doesn’t even break for air as he fumbles with the knob blindly, giving a final twist of his keys before the door swings open behind you and the two of you stumble backwards into the sanctuary of his apartment. It’s all teeth, it’s all desperation, it’s the accumulation of a year of snide remarks and low-blow insults all coming to head as he kicks the door shut behind you and spins so that your back meets the wood.

Your hands are tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck and– oh God, when did you reach up and grab at his hair in the first place?

He groans at the force of your fist, and it suddenly doesn’t matter. You don’t care how they got there – you only care to keep them there.

He finally breaks the kiss, spit trailing between your lips as you both gasp out breaths, “You-” he dives back in, capturing your lips between his in a harsh and quick action before another break, “fucking-” another break, another gasp. He remains close enough that each harsh exhale flows right into your mouth, down your throat and into your lungs, “infuriate-” this time, he pauses, not moving back in for another kiss as his forehead is pressed hard against yours, eyes wide open and boring into yours, “me.”

The venom that laces the words don’t scare you. It’s all verbal aposematism, rehearsed and practiced hatred that bears no weight, not anymore. Not as his hips are digging into yours and another tug of his hair has him putty in your hands.

You know the dance well. You know the next step.

“Good.”

His next kiss is even more vicious, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip and making you whine into him, one hand finally unraveling from his curls to find purchase in fisting the leather of his jacket. There’s a fine line that neither of you are daring to cross, only toeing as teeth and tongues clash.

This time, when he pulls away, you’re the one chasing after him. You don’t care about breathing; you care about his lips on yours, sucking all the smoke and oxygen from your lungs.

He’s the one to finally cross the line. A hand comes up to your throat, not nearly as rough as it should be, as he keeps you in place with the back of your head pressed to his front door. A pleading mewl leaves your lips of its own accord.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t be so desperate.”

The line’s been crossed, the chords all snapping between you two. There are no invisible strings tying you to the man before you, the man that has you aching between your trembling thighs and erratic breaths. Only gravity.

“Me? Desperate?” your voice nearly fails you as you lean into his touch surrounding your throat, preening forward so that your lips brush his, “I’m not the one fucking off to porn magazines that look like you, pretty boy.”

You’re both on the same side of the line now as you watch his eyes darken. It’s a sensitive topic, a bruise you’ve chosen to prod out in the hopes that he’ll break at the same alarming rate as you.

You need him to fuck you. You need him to use you, to throw any caution or revelations to the wind. You want him to push you so far you can’t remember your own name, let alone all the emotions that travel the channels between you.

“Think you can do any better than my hand, baby?” he questions as he buries his head into the crook of your shoulder, breath and lips leaving a buzz along the skin he comes in contact with. His fingers tighten ever so slightly, and your head rushes with a weightless bliss.

Your pulse is against his thumb, drumming beneath the pressure of it as you reply, “Do you think you can do any better than mine?”

A dozen insinuations layer the words, and he catches every single one. Your lashes flutter into your eyesight, lids growing heavy as he lifts his face from your shoulder and looks at you wickedly, grin spreading treacherously.

“Are you trying to tell me you touch yourself to me?” he taunts, pressing closer, “You thinkin’ of me at night when you get lonely, all desperate and pathetic, wrapped up in your own sheets? Do you wish it was my fingers, and not yours?”

Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. “In your dreams, Munson.”

“Of course,” he chuckles, “I thought that was a given. Don’t tell me you’re so dumb you’ve figured out I get myself off to your lookalikes, but not that I dream about you, sweetheart.”

The thought of it makes your stomach flutter, your thighs clench. He’s quick to shove his knee between your legs, letting you drop so that your crotch nearly brushes his thigh. But the distance remains and no relief from friction comes, he makes sure of it as his fingers finally lift slightly, letting the blood rush back to your head and into your cheeks.

“Is that what you were thinking about in the bathroom?”

His movements finally falter. You almost have the upperhand again, you almost have him back in your palms, back down to your height in cockiness.

You take his silence in stride, a smirk gracing your own face, “Oh, you were, weren’t you?” you pause, and drop a hand to his torso, nails raking over his shirt and making him suck in a sharp breath, “You thought I wouldn’t hear? You were being so awfully loud, y’know. Surprised you didn’t say my name.”

He breathes back to life, hand unwrapping from your throat to grip your chin, his thumb just barely making contact with your bottom lip as he tugs softly, “You would have fuckin’ liked that, wouldn’t you? As if I didn’t feel you get so hot and bothered by me on the bike,” it’s your turn to freeze, realizing your fears were valid, and he laughs lowly, “Oh, yeah, baby. I felt that. Hard to miss when you were clinging to me like I was your goddamn savior. What were you thinking about, hm? I bet you were thinkin’ about just that – me moaning for you, cumming for you. I bet it drove you fucking crazy, didn’t it?”

“What were you thinking about in the bathroom?” you whisper as his thumb presses harder into your lip, “Show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”

Your hand finally drops to its destination, cupping him through his sweatpants, wrapping around his girth.

He’s big. Bigger than you had expected, and he knows you’re shocked by the way you still once more, cocking his head at you with the utmost confidence.

He’s fucking lucky to be packing. It’d be a shame to be such an asshole and not have the ability to back up all his talk.

“You want me to be honest right now?” he asks, a thread of seriousness binding his words. You don’t hesitate to nod, even with his grip on your chin, “I was thinking about your mouth. Thinking about those pretty lips wrapped around my cock. I was thinking about you on your knees and those eyes looking up at me, all teary as I fucked your mouth.”

Your grip on him tightens, and you make the daring move to suck the tip of his thumb into your mouth, making eye contact as your tongue swirls around it.

“Fuck me,” he groans, throwing his head back, his grip immediately falling slack on your face. You see the opportunity and take it, surging forward to latch your lips onto his exposed neck. You start with light kisses, pressing them in rapid succession down the vein that lays poorly hidden by the stretched skin, pausing once you get closer to where the expanse meets his jaw.

“I’m trying to,” you taunt before sucking hard.

He moans loudly, echoing off the walls of his apartment, the hand still on your waist turning into an even more impossibly tight grip. The hand that once held your face has come up to tangle in your hair, gripping you by the roots and pulling you away just as the blood vessels on the surface have burst and bloomed in full shades of red and pink.

Your scalp burns as he pulls you to be face to face with him, eyes hard as you keep your hand on his clothed dick. You can feel him twitch as your palm at him, no longer caring about being desperate. You were desperate. You wanted him to give up the game, set aside the chase, and ruin you. You wanted his neighbors to hear as you chanted his name like a prayer, as every memory of every reason as to why you resented him fled your system with each thrust of his hips that could pin you to the wall.

“Is that what you want?” he’s no longer teasing you, his tone sounding as if he were asking for permission now rather than taunting you any further, “You want me to ruin you, sweetheart?”

The chase is nearing its end, and you nearly shatter with anticipation.

With one last trick up your sleeve, one last attempt to break him, you shrug as if you aren’t flushed and terribly flustered to the point of no return, “I guess. That’s one way to pass the time.”

When he breaks, it is sudden, and it is unkind. One moment, your break is aching from being pressed against wood, and your core is throbbing as you consider dropping to his thigh to find your own relief. The next, he’s throwing you around carelessly as his mouth slots to yours once more.

Just as it doesn’t matter how your hands found their way into his hair, it doesn’t matter how he pulls you from the door and navigates you to his couch. Your mind isn’t focused on where your body ends up, it’s focused on the feeling of his lips, chapped and pressing to yours eagerly. It’s focused on the way that the weight of his hands pressed tightly to your lower back feels. It’s focused on the overwhelming spice of his cologne, the smell of the night air still clinging to his cheek, the taste of his salt water as you dive under and let yourself begin to drown.

He’s consuming you, lungs and all. Limbs and all. Mind and all.

It’s a bad decision. This is going to be both of your downfalls, and you should stop before it goes too far.

You don’t stop it. Neither does he. All he does is throw you down to sit on his couch as he falls to his knees in front of you, bringing a palm to each knee and spreading your legs as he settles between them.

He’s the prettiest you’ve seen him yet. Even prettier than the first night. His lips are swollen pink, puffy and still lingering with your spit. Your mark on him, the first of many you need to leave, right along with the bruise on his neck. You wonder how hard you’d have to bite to bring blood tonight, you wonder which other spots on his neck would make him melt against you as you explored him fervently and left a whole collection of bruises that spell out your message very clearly – he’s mine for tonight.

His chest heaves as his eyes stare up into yours, hands gripping each of your knees. Even through the cotton, your skin is burning from his touch, your wildfire still thriving as you navigate this ocean he’s thrown the two of you into. A man-made river, more like it. It was made by his hand, it was created treacherously and with purpose against you, and yet you’re still here wading in it, also by his hand.

“Tell me to stop,” he begs, unexpected as his hands squeeze you, his eyes zeroing in on his palms as they travel up to your thighs, pulling you closer and making your back slide down the cushion from the position you’re seated in, “Tell me you hate me.”

For a second, you almost tell him you can’t. You can’t tell him to stop. Not as your leg lifts and his shoulder fits perfectly into the ditch of your knee, not as his hands creep further up to the band of the borrowed sweatpants. And once his fingers curl into the waist, knuckles pressing to your soft skin, you know you won’t.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, making his eyes shoot up to meet yours again, “I hate you, but don’t you fucking dare stop.”

Quickly, at an almost impossible rate of speed, he yanks the sweats down off of you. They’re tossed behind him into a pile on his living room floor, uncared for and quickly forgotten.

Once your skin is exposed to him, he’s planting messy kisses linearly up your shin, over your inner knee, until he reaches your thighs. Marks are left in his wake, shades of deep maroon fading lilac as he nips and sucks against them just as you had to his neck.

“Show me yours,” he mumbles into your skin, fingertips pressing indents as he openly mouths over the hickies left behind.

“What?”

“I showed you mine, now show me yours,” he insists with wild eyes, hair hardly contained by the bun that once contained the curls, “When you touch yourself, what do you think about?”

“You,” you sigh out as he presses another kiss to you, even higher up now, growing dangerously close to your cunt.

“What about me?” he pushes, staring up as he removes contact, “Use your words, baby.”

“I-” you can’t think clearly, mind muddled with smoke and the image of him there before you, on his knees, “I think about your fingers instead of mine. How thick they are, how they’d feel.”

His smile shows little satiation, “Go on.”

You’re so focused on getting the words out, you nearly don’t notice a hand loosening its grip on your thigh, inching up to your panties, playing with the lace edges.

“I think about how deep you’d go, how you’d curl your fingers just- fuck,” you cut off with a gasp when his fingers slide beneath cotton, brushing over your wet folds.

“Just fuck?” he mimics, pouting slightly, “Afraid I’ve never heard that one before. Might need you to demonstrate for me. How do I curl my fingers just fuck?”

“Fuck you,” you whine, writhing beneath his touch as your ankles lock behind his head.

“I’m trying to,” he pitches his voice to mock your own, and you regret ever saying the words to him. He clicks his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head, “God, you want me to fuck you so bad, it’s making you stupid.”

His fingers stop teasing you as he finds your entrance, circling only the tip of his pointer finger to gather the slickness. Your hips buck, the desperation clawing its way through your entire body now, leaving ash and destruction in its path before Eddie brings an arm across your waist to hold you down to the couch firmly.

“Beg for it,” he commands, voice shooting straight into your chest, “Be a good girl and say please, yeah?”

His finger still circles your entrance, teasing but never quite pressing in, leaving you a whimpering mess. You begin to wonder if there will be any sign of how hard his forearm is pinned against you.

A battle of both your prides. He can feel you burning up now, he sees the flames dancing and he’s willing to play with them rather than give in to you.

You have to bite your lip to avoid letting the please on the tip of your tongue slip out for him. You’re still fighting him, still defying him.

“I have been far nicer to you than you deserve,” he continues his taunts, a grin growing when he catches the way you’re physically holding back, “We both know it, so just say it. Say the word, and I’ll keep playing nice.”

His finger breeches your entrance slightly, and you gasp, head thrown back immediately, “When have you ever been nice?”

He tsks, removing the tip of his finger, letting it glide up between your folds before it stops just short of your clit, “Oh, I’m always nice. You just never seem to notice.”

You think about it again. All the acts of kindness that went under the radar, all the times you’d buried in an effort to continue to harbor detestation for the man before you. He’s right – he probably doesn’t realize it, but he’s far more correct than you’d give him credit for at this moment.

“Please fuck me,” you whisper to the ceiling, before swallowing hard and leaning your chin back down, looking him in his eyes as you decide to give him more than he asked for, “Please ruin me.”

You’ve watched a mirage of emotions flush across his face on every possible occasion. Anger, distaste, aggression, laughter, annoyance. But you’ve never seen want quite like this grace his features.

“Gladly.”

His fingertip circles your clit, once, twice, three times, applying the perfect amount of pressure to have you crying out before he’s removing his forearm and nearly tearing your underwear to move it to the side and thrusting two fingers into your desperate cunt immediately.

You sob out and nearly double over, the sting and stretch making you keen as he wastes no time. You’ve said the magic word, you’ve played his game, and now, he’s returning the favor.

He’s playing nice. And, God, is nice quite the word to describe what he’s doing to you as he pumps his fingers into you, thrusting them in as deep as his knuckles allow before he curls them and brushes the spot that could make you scream with the right skill set.

He has the skill set. He notes your clenching on his fingers, and he curls again, with more intent this time.

Maybe the thin walls only apply to the inside of his apartment, if you’re lucky.

“Is this what you want?” he questions, leaning in so close to you that you feel his breath wash over you, “Is this what you meant by ruining you?”

You nod, finding it becoming increasingly harder to speak as you gasp, “Y- Oh, fuck. Yes. Ple- fuck. Please.”

He pauses, and you nearly scream out in frustration and protest before he rips your underwear off of you, dragging it down your legs and forcing your ankle to unlock from behind his head as he fights with the flimsy piece of cotton. You expect him to throw it, to let it join the sweats, but instead, he brings them to his face. He’s wolfish as he looks up at you, taking a deep breath in with the cotton pressed to his nose, not saying a word but watching you clench around nothing as he finally tosses the panties over his shoulder.

You see them catch on the coffee table, nowhere near the sweats.

“Smell so sweet, baby,” he coos, bringing his fingers back to you, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips, “I might just have to tast-”

A phone ringing cuts him off. The trill cuts through the silence, piercing both your ears, making you look at each other in fright.

“Don’t answer it,” the words burst out before you think them over. You don’t care about your friends right now. You don’t care about the bet.

You care about his fingers back inside you, curling and hitting that spot you’ve spent endless nights fighting to find without success. You care about getting his clothes off of him, of your eyes tracing over his skin and the ink you’ve yet to see. You care about his cock, springing to attention, before he’s sheathing it inside of you and bringing you both to utter bliss.

A phone call is at the bottom of your priorities right now. You just don’t care.

“It’s your phone,” he counters, glancing behind the two of you to where your phone is buried in the heap of black clothing, “I’m not answering it. But…”

“I’m not answering it, either.”

“If we don’t answer-”

“Eddie, I could fucking care less,” you sit up roughly, leaning in as close as you can in the compromising position, “We’re not answering it.”

The phone continues to ring, and he looks between you and it in clear confusion, “They’ll just keep calling-”

“Let them,” you insist, “If you don’t get your dick in me within the next minute, I’ll call this entire thing off,” you add on the last part as you reach out and your legs fall off his shoulders, hands replacing where your knees once rested as you bring his lips into yours.

Teeth, tongue, salt water, ash. It drowns out the final few rings as you continue to tug on Eddie feverishly, forcing him to rise from his position on the ground and kneel on the edge of the couch, a hand balancing him upright by gripping the back of the couch. Your kiss is all the convincing he needs.

“Fuck, fine, fine, I-” he cuts off, removing himself from you long enough to shrug off his leather jacket, to reach up and grab the collar of his shirt, yanking it over his head. The bun has officially unraveled to completion, curls flowing down over his collarbones and shoulders. You can’t keep your hands off him, fingertips immediately pressing into the exposed skin, “Just give me a second.”

He stands, and you whine, making him snicker as he kicks off the grey sweatpants.

“So impatient,” he teases, and you watch his face light up in delight as you can only bite your tongue in response. There’s something more there, something to be considered later. Later, when you aren’t aching for him. Later, when the moment of desperation has passed, when his waves retreat from your shores and you find yourself capable of breathing fresh air once more.

Later is not now.

The moment he’s down to just his boxers, you’re done waiting, doing as he had for you and dropping your knees to the carpet below.

“Hey, what are you doin-” he’s interrupted by you leaning forward, looking up at him intently as you kiss the tip of his dick through his boxers. Your lips come in contact with the wet spot clearly forming, and you can see the shiver roll down his spine, “Oh, fuck. What the Hell happened to me… me getting… me getting my dick in you…” He’s trailing off, unable to focus as your fingers slip beneath the waistband and tug down, his dick slapping against his exposed stomach.

“It still counts if you fuck my mouth,” is all you say as his boxers pool at his ankles, and you don’t even wait for him to step out of them.

Your phone is ringing again. You can feel the vibrations through the floor as you wrap a hand around his base, as you lean forward and place a proper kiss to his leaking tip, swirling your tongue in the precum.

This time, the two of you don’t argue about answering it. It’s hard to as your mouth is full of him, and his is full of curses.

“Jesus Christ, I- Fuck, right there,” he’s gasping as you wrap your lips around the tip fully, just as you’d done with his thumb, sucking gently and making his hand fly down to rest on the back of your head.

You bob down a few times, hollowing your cheeks and taking him deeper and deeper until your nose presses into the coarse hairs resting at the base. You pause, letting your nose press into him as you breathe deeply, feeling him hit the back of your throat. Your eyes water, just as he described, and you take pride in the way he can’t even look at you now.

You pull back, letting him drop from your mouth, smiling widely, “Better than your hand, right?”

“Fuck off,” his hand rest at the back of your head grips the hair there, tangling up as he shoots you a glare.

“Say it’s better than your hand, and I’ll fuck you off,” you press, letting a hand travel to fondle his balls, pinching the skin delicately, watching his reaction roll through him like waves.

“I- Fucking obviously,” he hisses as you smile, leaning down and pressing kisses along the shaft, “God, of course your mouth is better than my fucking hand. Of course it fucking is.”

“It better be,” you goad before taking him back into your mouth. This time, you suck harder, and his grip on your hair is painful once more.

“Shit.”

He’s at a loss for words, devolving into guttural groans and babbling moans as you quicken your pace, determined now.

You wanted to ruin him. After a year of his bullshit, after suffering through every fight and every argument, every passive glare and every turbulent comment, you want to make them man standing over you crumble to pieces.

Except he wasn’t just crumbling, he was shattering. Splintering apart as his hips started to thrust to meet your mouth, as you choked around him and refused to let up, resorting to stuttering inhales through your nose as you pressed your face back to his pubes, swallowing accidentally and making him nearly scream.

“Shit. Shit- stop. I’m going to f-fucking cum, stop,” he’s pulling you off of him suddenly, gasping for breath, not letting you refuse and push him over the edge.

You’re smug as you lean onto your heels, wiping your mouth clean of the spit that strings from your bottom lip to his red tip with the back of your hand.

“I think I win,” you state plainly, as if you weren’t currently taking heaving breaths, desperate to catch your breath and have his hands back on you.

“Win? Wh- It’s not a fucking competition,” he scowls, raking a hand down over his face, chest flush.

“It is, and I fucking won.”

“Yeah? You think you won, baby?”He recovers quickly, you’ll give him that. He goes from a complete mess to a force to be reckoned with in an absolute instant, stepping out of his boxers and kicking them from his warpath before he reaches down to tug you to your feet, “In that case, if this is a competition, I think I deserve a second chance.”

You open your mouth to be a smart ass, to say something cruel or something mean, but he steps back before you have the chance.

The look of want has turned stormy, confident and eliciting. A hurricane beckoning to you as he snaps his fingers.

“Take your fucking shirt off, and get on the couch, all fours.”

“I-”

“Now.”

There’s no more fires, no more oceans, and no more petty arguments left in you. You listen to him.

You throw off the sweatshirt, his sweatshirt, as he goes to one of the tables beside the couch and opens a drawer roughly.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, unhooking your bra as well, fully naked and aware that his eyes weren’t on you yet, “You just keep fucking condoms in your living room?”

“Who said I was looking for fucking condoms?”

“Oh, my bad. I just assumed. Should have known you were getting me naked just to go searching for fucking Narnia in your drawers.”

You were wrong. He was looking at you, and you’re only made aware by the sharp slap across your bare ass at the comment. It makes you spin quickly, looking at him and his set jaw.

“Couch. All fours. Now.”

“You’re such a sore loser,” you snark, taking a few steps back, trying to ignore the way the sting on your backside has your clit throbbing.

“You have no idea, baby,” he says without a hint of joking, looking back down into the drawer and continuing to dig as you turn away from him again.

Despite feeling exposed, you do as you’re told – you get onto the couch on all fours as he requested, knees digging into a surprisingly soft cushion that surely hadn’t felt that way earlier in the night when you’d attempted to sleep on the piece of furniture. You don’t dare to glance back at him over your shoulder when the drawer finally slams shut, hearing his heavy breathing as he returns to you being enough to force you to shut your eyes and take in a sharp gasp.

“Still feeling like a winner?” his voice winds around you, nearly choking you as you feel a feathering fingertip trail across your lower back.

“Always,” you lie breathily, voice betraying you as it shakes.

You feel the couch dip from behind you, legs spreading as Eddie fits himself between your calves, one hand latching onto your hip.

“God, I can’t wait to fuck the brat out of you.”

Without warning, he’s lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in, taking all the breath from your lungs as you collapse down onto your elbows and your cheek brushes the cushion of the couch.

It burns, his cock forcing you to stretch and accommodate you, filling you at an unbelievable rate.

You knew he was fucking big, but you hadn’t considered the consequences until this moment, as he truly feels as if he’s just begun his ruining of you.

“Fu-” the curse is lost in your throat, a small gasp as you press yourself down even further into the couch, mind swimming.

“Oh, no,” he tuts, sounding completely unaffected until he leans down over you as he bottoms out. When he gets closer, you catch it – the hitch in his breath, the way he pauses before he can speak, “That won’t do, sweetheart.”

He brings a hand back to your throat, just as he had when you two first entered the apartment, when the fight for dominance first began. It’s more from the pressure of his forearm across your chest, but the pressure is still applied on both sides as he guides you to straighten up your body against him, making him hit new angles that have you hissing out.

“I said on all fours, not just waving your ass in the air like some slut,” you clench around him at his words, and he chuckles breathlessly, “You like that, don’t you? You like being my fucking slut.”

You can only moan in response as he slowly pulls back his hips, feeling every inch of him beginning to retreat from you at an agonizing pace.

“You’re pitiful,” he groans into your ear, pressing his thumb further against your throat, cutting off the circulation for only a moment. Just long enough to send a rush to your head, “You say you hate me, say you can’t fucking stand me, but get cock drunk just from me putting it in. I’m only getting started and you’re speechless.”

You can only continue your pathetic whimpers, reaching back to grasp onto him before he tuts once more.

“Pathetic, baby.”

He slams back in, letting you drop forward. This time, you keep yourself up on your hands, letting out more small gasps, all of the noises getting half stuck on your tongue.

“But you’re winning, right?” he taunts, accentuating each word with a thrust as he begins to pick up his pace, “You’re the winner here, right?”

You don’t answer him, nearly drooling when he reaches forward and grabs up your hair, curling it around his wrist carefully before he pulls. It hurts, it makes you clench down on him, it has you babbling out nonsense you’re completely unaware of.

Each time he snaps his hips forward, his skin collides with yours, ricocheting off the walls around the two of you. Your arms shake, but you stay steady, refusing to collapse beneath him and the euphoria that scathes you.

He pulls your hair harder this time, making you arch your back into him, “Tell me you hate me.”

You cry out, feeling him hit even deeper as his free hand forces your hips to meet every thrust.

“Say it, baby. Tell me just how much you hate me,” he huffs out, clearly barrelling as quickly to his own release as you are, “Say you hate my guts,” another sharp thrust, and his balls slap against you, catching your clit and making your knees shake, “Say you can’t stand me. Go ahead, baby, say it.”

“I hate you,” you weakly respond, eyes tearing up as you feel your gut twist. Your fire, your blooms, his ocean. He’s making good on his promise – he’s ruining you, and you’re reveling in the wake of it all. Embers char you from the inside out, and your brain fogs over in pleasure.

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I m-mean it,” you gasp when he reaches around, chest pressing to your back, finger hovering over your clit, “Fuck, right there, please. I mean it. Please, please-”

“Say it again, like you really mean it this time, and I’ll let you cum.”

He stills, deep inside you, waiting with bated breath as his chin ghosts over the back of your shoulder. You stare straight ahead. If you glance down, you’d find your hands turned to fists, his ring still glittering on your finger.

He’s destroyed you. To unimaginable levels. You can’t comply with his request, not without becoming a liar, because it occurs to you that the man currently wrecking you is not a man you’re capable of hating. You hated the situation the two of you were in, you hated the year wasted, you hated the looming pressure of your friends awaiting a return call, you hated the words exchanged between the two of you with the intention of cutting deep. You hated many things surrounding him, but you didn’t hate him.

At Eddie’s core, he is still the man you first met. He’s finally drowned you, dragged you to the bottom of his ocean, and you can see that now. The man that first reeled you in at the bar never left, simply shrank away, hid himself away from you for some unknown reason that you hate. The man that dazzled you, enticed you, provided you with the opportunity of safety still exists.

“I hate you,” you grit out, fisting at the cover of the cushions, your entire body on edge. From him, from revelations, from a build of hate that had been misdirected for far too long.

“Good,” he gasps out, mouth falling open and against your skin, teeth grazing you, “Then this changes nothing.”

You don’t have time to ponder, or wonder why he didn’t mention the feeling being mutual. Once the words leave both of you, his finger connects with your clit, working an expert pattern that has you preening as his vigorous thrusting returns. It’s harsher than before, pain and pleasure blurring together as your scalp aches, your vines tighten, and your flames erupt.

Your vision whites out, and you don’t hear your screams of relief as much as you feel them. Your throat is hoarse, tears leak from the corners of your eyes, and the tension vanishes from your muscles.

Your arms collapse finally, and you don’t fight the way your cheek presses against rough fabric as his hips begin to stutter, his own ecstasy flooding over him before he’s crashing with you.

The two of you stay that way for a second, skin on skin, words lingering in the air, threatening to vanish. You don’t care – you match your breathing to his as he doesn’t pull out immediately.

A vibrating comes from the floor amongst the shared bliss, both of you too fucked out to move to go answer the phone. The money doesn’t matter anymore, not to you.

Everything aches. You come to realize just how rough the two of you had treated each other, pains ringing out from your throat, from your ass, from your abused cunt. Your knees are surely marked from the couch and floor alike, your scalp is screaming in relief without Eddie’s grip against it.

You don’t regret it. You don’t regret any of it, except a singular lie.

I hate you.

What a brilliant, foolish, laughable, bullshit attempt at a lie.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @amira0303 @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @tlclick73 @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

taglist is now closed.

#twenty four hours #my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #very terrified because i feel like expectations are so high #please be kind i'm gonna have a PANIC ATTACK #i didn't read this back :) if you see mistakes don't @ me #let's hope for the best smut is between yall and god

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ghouljams · 9 months

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I'm wheezing thinking of Konig hunting leibling around the house. Like a cat sitting in the shadows doing the little wiggle before pouncing and shes just used to it so much that she keeps on with whatever she's doing ahhh. Could we maybe get some fluff after him being so scary? Maybe him trying to do some nesting and Liebling's like it's not gonna happen stawhp.

You're hardly seen König all day. You know he's in the house only because you didn't hear the door open. You frown at the kettle on the stove, ears straining to try and hear him. You shiver a little, scratching the back of your neck. You can feel him watching you, or you can feel something watching you and you assume it's König. You dread to think what else it could be. You shake your head and go to grab your tea from the pantry.

You stumble over something, catching yourself before you fall on your face. You look back to see König's long fluffy tail drag itself back into the shadows between the wall and the fridge. You do your best not to think about how he squeezed himself back there, and tamp down the desire to go and check out whether it's actually him back there. It'll just unnerve you to see his eyes glowing from the shadows.

You finish preparing your tea and go to sit on the couch. You narrow your eyes at the suspicious lack of throw blankets. Usually you have them tucked in every corner so they're easily accessible. Now they're not even folded in their little basket. You check the basket, keeping your mug held close to your chest. Empty. You let out an annoyed hum.

Stubbornness wins over curiosity and you sit on the couch, tucking your feet under you. You grab the remote to turn the TV on and catch a glimpse of König looming behind you in the screen's reflection. You turn quickly, your heart pounding at the sudden glimpse of his claws and spines, but he's not there. You look back at the TV, the reflection of the room empty save for you. You turn it on and squeeze yourself into a ball against the corner of the couch. You hate when he does this.

The volume is low, your ears straining to listen, your eyes watching the screen's reflection, your hair on end waiting for the next glimpse of your hunter. You don't even try to relax, hands gripping the warmth of your mug like a lifeline. At the first commercial break you set your mug on the coffee table, not willing to scald yourself if König jumps you. There's a quiet clicking behind you, you turn quickly to watch König's tail disappear into the bedroom. Occupied for now.

You lose yourself in a shitty cop show for a while, knowing König will grab you when he wants to. The detectives are just wrapping up their interrogation when you hear a soft purring by the arm of the couch. When you turn to look König is watching you, just peaking over the edge of the couch, his eyes wide and pupils blown to the edges of his irises. His tail whips and swishes behind him, his spines laid flat, you don't trust the nonthreatening display for a second.

"Wollen wir heute früh ins Bett gehen?" His voice is so rough in this form, more growling than human speech. You blink at him and turn off the TV, already anticipating the way his hands grab you and lift as he stands. You bite down the smile that threatens to spill, something giddy welling up in your chest whenever he lifts you.

König drops you on your bed, and you are engulfed by blankets, nearly smothered by pillows. You look around the --you think the implications of this word are dangerous-- nest he's built as König climbs on the bed after you. You hold your arms out to him, still inspecting his masterful work and he eagerly presses himself into your arms. His face nuzzling against your chest with a satisfied purr as he curls up in the nest.

"The throws have to go back to the couch," You tell König, carding your fingers through his hair. He purrs louder, his arms wrapping tighter around you. You wonder what's gotten into him.

#realized you said fluff like halfway through #and had to switch real fast off the predator/prey shit I was writing #König does this all the time and Liebling is like “please I have anxiety this doesn't help”#um...*sweating* I know what's gotten into him #also lmao I feel like liebling read a/b/o fic in high school and is trying not to laugh at König's nesting behavior #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #König x you #König fluff #x reader #oc: liebling

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lees-chaotic-brain-reblogs · 1 month

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Megumi Fic Recs

note: i do sometimes link my reblogs bc there is literally nothing i hate more than clicking on a link only to arrive at the ghost blog page.

@romantichomicide95 i got you girl. lmk if you think i missed any.

blogs to just read through:

@romantichomicide95

girl I could read your megumi fics for DAYS. and you have so many, you truly feed me. the FLUFF. the ANGST. the SMUT. everyone else should go read them too. right now.

@ponderingmoonlight

honestly, if you're looking for jjk fics of any sort her blog is the place to go. again, she has amazing reader representation and plot diversity, so i highly recommend.

@just-jordie-things

her fics are timeless and classy, and i absolutely love the way she writes megumi

@chuluoyi

all of her one shots are top notch, but her series unholy matrimony is literally my holy grail (no pun intended). go read it now

@meguemii

definitely a top contender for the number one megumi simp, and you can see that reflected in her writing. it's just so cute and they're like my comfort fics. except for that one that made me bawl how could you do that to me??

and of course, she may not have posted a fic in a little while, but this list would be incomplete without the one, the only, @kasumitenbaz!!!! you can and will find her losing her mind in the comment sections of any and all megumi fics. love ya kas <3

@seiwas

Make This Drive Last 'Til the End of This Song (fluff, two-shot)

@xxsabitoxx

Megumi's ears turn pink when he lies (fluff) He never wanted to have children but- (fluff, dad megumi) Megumi's the type of man who...(fluff, suggestive)

@shisnhou

Until I Found You (fluff)

@yuwuta

Divine Dogs (fluff) Rodeo Station (fluff)

@wishmemel

Cherry Blossom Springs (fluff)

divider by @cafekitsune

#i know this doesn't look like a lot but the blogs for you to read through have a TON of fics #plus i'll keep adding to this as i discover more!!!#megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #lee's brain food #jjk x reader #fic recs #megumi fushiguro x reader

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imthegayone · 8 months

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A Broken Rib (drabble)

Summary: You broke a rib during a stunt, earning yourself a scolding by your girlfriend.

Warrnings: mention of bruising? and some errors (reread this maybe twice)

Author's Note: A small little drabble cause I wanted to get something out for you all but these wips are kicking my ass rn. Also this is inspired by an interview where Britney Snow (i think) broke a rib during a stunt where she had to ram against a car to break it's widow and a fic I read a bit ago were Jenna sprains her ankle at work when she's distracted by a video of reader. (sadly I can't find it or I'd link it) Hope you enjoy 🩵

Word Count: 431

________

“You’re never doing that again.” Jenna reprimands a look in her eyes that says there’s no room for negotiation. However, it was an accident, you knew that and she knew that. The stunt was easy, even your manager agreed that you could ram yourself into the car for the scene. It didn’t stop Jenna from worrying though, the second she was told about your hospital visit a nervous pit settled deep in her stomach.

“Jen.” You groan, you’re in need of sleep and just want to be held in the shorter girl's arms while you watch your favorite comfort movie. “Don’t Jen, me I’m not the one in trouble, you are.” Crossing her arms, you finally notice just how high her anxiety was. Understanding exactly how much stress someone could put themselves under when not knowing the condition of their loved one. You had experienced the same mounting fear when she sprained her ankle on set a year ago.

You sigh, never wanting to make her sick with worry especially when you were fine. “Baby, I’m okay. It’s one broken rib, plenty of people get broken ribs and survive.”

“I’m just a little sore.” You add, prodding at the growing colors splayed across your abdomen. “And bruised.” Jenna mumbles knowing she’s not gonna get anywhere with you. You grab her hand placing it above your heart. “I’m fine. We got the shot, neither I nor Naomi need to redo it.”

“She’s doing all your stunts from now on and I mean it.” Jenna gives you her best stern eyes but she knows you, you’re just like her when it comes to things like this. If you can do it yourself then why not?

“You know I can’t promise that.” Jenna sighs knowing you’re right. She gently wraps you up in a hug, careful not to hurt you further. She’ll have plenty of time to scold you but for now she’d rather get you into bed to rest. “Just take it easy next time, okay? If you need a break, take one.”

“I will. I promise.” Promising sincerely, your y/e/c eyes boring into her soft brown ones. “Too bad there’s not gonna be a scar though, I heard women love scars.” You tease, breaking the tension.

“Oh my god, please shut up.” Jenna says hiding her face in your neck at your embarrassing statement. Unable to contain her chuckle at your silly excuse for flirting. “I love you, even though you’re a reckless idiot.”

“Yeah but I’m your reckless idiot.”

Squeezing her tighter in your hold. “I love you too.”

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #we'll see how long I keep this up #i also couldn't stop singing #baby back ribs from chilli's theme song so...#good luck reading this when thats my head space #have all these ended in I love yous??#fics by the gay

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lilmaymayy · 4 months

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im sorry but theres nothin i hate more than xocs in an xreader hashtag😔😔

ITS FINE IF THERES OCS IN THE FIC BUT THEY BETTER NOT END UP W MY MAN

#thats why im readin the fic bae #to see me have my happy ending w my man☺️#not to see this blonde blue eyed oc have him😞#i prmose you your fics will be read #BUT NOT BY ME IF THEY AINT TAGGED CORRECTLY 🙏🙏🙏#have a great day #she speaks🗣️#remus lupin x oc #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet imagine #finnick odair x reader #timothée chalamet #peter parker x reader #finnick odair #timothee chalamet x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #the hunger games

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gauloiseblue · 1 month

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I'm Only Flesh and Blood

(König × Reader)

[Dead dove: do not eat | MDNI]

TW: rape, non-con, imprisonment, death, violence, overall dark theme

(I don't know why, but this song just resonates with the story, not because of the lyrics, but the way he sings it.)

You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

You didn't realize there was a war on the horizon, before it all fell down upon the city.

Between the rumbles and the upstanding pillar, you coughed as the dust surrounded you.

You screamed for help, as the shattered walls trapped you in, leaving no space for you to move. You did it over and over again, until your throat scratched. Yet no one came to rescue, no one heard you scream.

When the night fell, you curled up your body, trying to find warmth in the harsh structures. There's no light that could reach your place, you only knew if it's daylight when the temperature rose up slightly, although it soon blurred as you lost track of time.

You were starving, your lips were cracked and split open. You thought you'd die like this, until you heard a heavy stomp of a boot.

There was a sound of a man shouting above you, and a heavy thud soon followed. You didn't have the energy to speak, as you watched a little light come through the rubbles. One by one, the wreckages were lifted, and you winced at the glaring light upon you.

There's a shout, and more shouts followed after in a language you didn't understand. You covered your eyes to see a soldier stretched his hand to you. Just like a fool, you reached up to him.

The event that unfolded between the rescue and the medical help was fuzzy in your memory. What you knew was, you woke up in a cold room, with men in uniform by your bed.

They asked you your name, and basic questions that you weakly answered. After they wrote it all down, you heard them mumble the word 'foreigner'.

"Where am I?" You asked them with a hoarse voice.

"Hospital." One of them said, before they both left the room.

Your brows furrowed, as you sensed something's off, but can't pinpoint what it was.

When the doctor declared you've made a full recovery, you were immediately brought to a different building. The man took you to an office, where a hunched figure in a mask sat at the desk.

He shooed your escort with a wave, and he left the room without a sound. Leaving you with the big man.

"What's your name?" He asked with a strange accent.

"(Name)." You responded.

"They said you're not from here." He stood up, and you witnessed the full glory of his height, "Visiting?"

You slowly nodded, nothing to add.

He shot you a sneer, as he walked closer to you, "You didn't know there was a conflict?"

"No," You lowered your head, "I thought it was safe."

You saw his polished boots as he stood in front of you, before he lifted up your chin so you'd face him.

"You're lucky you're inside the ruin, you know." He began to speak with malice slowly dripped out of his mouth, "Your kin were mostly dead or imprisoned. The women were raped, and the men were skinned alive. But you're still alive. You must be lucky."

The grip on your jaw became harder, and you whimpered, both from fear and the pain.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

He let go of your face, and you immediately took a step back with your legs trembling. Your gaze was down, and you couldn't see the smile on his face. He walked past you, and you heard the door open, before a soldier took your hand and led you through the hallway.

In the other room, you met several girls with the same expression as yours—scared, confused, unsettled. You stood beside one of them, and watched as the soldier left.

The girl turned to you, asking your name.

"It's (Name)."

"Oh." She responded, "Where were you from?"

You told her the name of your hometown. "You?"

"I lived in the neighboring country." She smiled, "I'm Nina by the way, nice to meet you."

You returned the gesture.

"Do you know why we're here?" You asked.

"I'm not sure." She said as she rubbed her neck, "But I overheard the soldiers referring to us as flowers, I'm not sure what that means."

"Flowers?"

"Pretty flowers, in fact." She clarified, "One of them even said exotic ones. I just hoped it's not what I think it is."

You opened your mouth to reply, but the conversation was interrupted by the opening door.

There's a man striding from the door, and stopping on his track to see the people in the room. He scanned them one by one, before he turned to the soldier on his side.

"Which one is the Colonel's girl?"

The soldier looked at you, before leaning in to whisper.

"Hmm," He let out a displeased grunt, "Well, take her away then. There's no point in choosing her when she's off the list."

The soldier said something to him, but he dismissed him.

"I don't care, take her away."

He pressed his lips together before he nodded.

"Come." He said to you, and Nina immediately grabbed your hand.

"Don't go." Her eyes were wide as she told you, and you were alerted by the fear in her face. But you didn't have the time to process it, as the man ripped you away from her, dragging you out of the room.

"No—" You tried to protest, "Let me go."

He stayed silent, while his hand was planted on your arm.

"Where are you taking me?"

"None of your business."

"It's my business to know."

"Shut up."

The two of you arrived outside, where he quickly called a car to the lobby. As the car parked, he opened the rear door and shoved you inside.

The door was already closed by the time you shouted at him.

The whole ride was silent, as you bit your nail, trying to make sense of the situation. You tried to look out the window, figuring out where the driver's taking you. Though you found nothing, not a single clue.

It took perhaps 15 minutes before the car parked in front of a house—a big house, in fact. At the front door, you met another man in military uniform. He didn't say much as he let you in, before locking the door behind.

It took a minute for you to process what happened, before you knocked on the door, asking why you're here. Again, you received no answer.

Deciding it's not worth the time, you began to roam around to find a way out.

It's a two-story house, with a big dining hall and equally big kitchen. It has a study room, and a meeting room right beside it, the two rooms were connected by a door. They looked like they've been used recently.

Upstairs, you found the bedrooms, as well as the bathrooms. There's a door leading to a balcony, but it was locked.

When you came back to the first floor, you tried your luck in the study room. It was full of papers, and you skimmed over it. But it's all written in a language you didn't understand, so you decided to move to the drawers. But as you bent down to reach the handle, you heard an unmistakable voice coming from the door.

"Don't touch that."

You lifted your head to see the same man you met in the office. He was leaning on the frame with his arms folded, watching you intently behind the mask.

"Curious, aren't you?"

You looked down to avoid his stare, "I'm sorry."

He took the time to examine your face, before he spoke, "I was planning to take you home with me, but it seems like my lieutenant sent you away without my permission."

"What do you want?" You asked him through gritted teeth, "You're not planning to send me back home, aren't you?"

He smirked, "Clever thing." He said, "Do you really wish to know that?"

You kept your glare at him as he explained.

"You see, you're still officially missing, and it's not our job to report every single person we found." He walked toward the bookshelves with his hands on his back and his chin up, "So if we found someone, it's our right to keep them."

He pulled a file from the shelves, and threw it onto the table.

"It's yours." He told you, "Go on and read it."

You looked at him with disdain, before you flipped the file open. There, you found all of your private information—the copy of your and your parents' IDs, your bank accounts, and detailed information about your background. Although it's written in German, you knew it from the written dates and a few familiar names.

"Do you understand now?" He spoke in a low tone, "You have no choice."

He left the room as you froze on the spot, unable to bring yourself together. The soldier by the front door took you to a bedroom and locked the door behind as ordered. Leaving you alone, at a loss.

You stared blankly at the window, and took notice how it's screwed shut. Even if you were to break the glass, it's already lined with railing. The same applied to the small window above the toilet, and you saw no possible way out in the bathroom too.

Maybe you could open it with something, something that resembles a screwdriver.

When the sun had set, you heard the lock turned, before the soldier entered with a tray and a jug of water. He set them down on the nightstand, before leaving without a word once again.

You looked at the food, and you had no appetite despite your stomach growl. You didn't touch the plate, but filled up the glass with water. That was it, that's your dinner for that day

At night, you couldn't sleep. You could hear the clock ticking, reminding you that you're still here. Pretty much alive.

20 minutes past midnight—you knew it from the toll of the grandfather clock outside—you caught the sound of the door opening, then closing. It came from the room beside you, the master bedroom.

That night, he spared you from the dreadful ordeal of sleeping together. But your luck was running thin after the third day of your stay.

You were laying on your bed with your thoughts, before the door of your bedroom opened. Your blood ran cold, as you heard a heavy step entering the room, and went towards your place.

The blanket rustled, as the man slipped inside. He settled into the bed, before pulling you into his chest.

Your heart beat hard against your chest, and you began to feel yourself sweating. You knew Fortuna frowned at you when he slid his hand under your neck, pressing his fingers on your pulse.

"You're still awake, aren't you?"

You bit your lower lip, and slowed down your breathing. All was an useless attempt to calm you down.

"Don't worry, I won't touch you tonight."

You took a sharp breath as you caught the meaning of it. It made him chuckle, as he buried his face into your nape.

"But if you try something funny, I can't guarantee that to you."

Your body turned cold when the words left his mouth, to the point that you stayed still, petrified by the threat.

He did keep his promise, as he fell asleep right by your side. Perhaps if you're a bit braver, you could lift his hand and escape that night, but his words hung on your head, as if it's a guillotine that'd fall on you if you moved an inch.

You didn't sleep that night. Drowsiness only came to you after hearing the birds singing, signaling the first arrival of the sunray. And you were too tired to notice the way he stirred, as it went closer to his waking hour.

In the afternoon, you found yourself alone in bed, with the door locked, and the breakfast on the table.

You survived that night, but it didn't mean you'd make it on the other days.

Unfortunately, it came sooner than you prayed.

It was your fault, you were careless. You thought he wouldn't pay any mind to a missing cutlery, but he did.

At the dinner, he asked you to accompany him at the dining table, and you sat there, blissfully unaware of the impending torture.

As you chewed the tender steak, he announced his concern about the lack of butter knife in the dishwasher.

You stopped at your track, as your body tensed up. The meat stayed in your mouth, as your throat tightened up, closing your chance to swallow.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" He asked with a cold glare, "Did you think I'm stupid?"

You kept your gaze to the plate, as the alarm blared in your head.

"Answer me!" He slammed his fist on the table, and you flinched away in fear. The reaction caused you to choke, forcing you to cough out the meat into the napkin.

"I'm sorry." You whimpered, while gripping your hand so it would stop shaking. "I'm sorry."

For a moment, you thought the time had stopped for you. Until you heard the chair moved, and he stood by the table.

"Hands on the table." He retorted, and your body obeyed him without delay.

You jumped when he threw away your plate, sending it and the cutleries to the floor as it shattered upon the contact. You began to feel unsteady, as the panic was rising from your chest.

He stood behind you, and you trembled as you heard the sound of a zipper.

That was the day you found that he'd use sex as a punishment.

He made sure that it hurts, and left you bleeding, he'd render your legs useless by bruising your hip and insides, as he rammed his cock against your core. You screamed at him, begging him to stop, but he kept going until he ripped the orgasm out of you. By the time he finished, you're entirely spent, as you curled up on the floor.

In daze, you felt yourself being picked up, before laid down on the mattress. Leaving you wondering about it in the morning.

He was cruel, but he took you to the bedroom instead of leaving you. He was merciless, but he bothered to put a few medicines on your tray.

You didn't understand him, and you didn't like it one bit. You had a hunch that it couldn't be that simple—that he felt guilty, or he felt the need to take care of you.

To your disdain, he continued to do it for weeks. He helped you up, and gave you the medicines every morning. He kept it as a routine, until you could stand on your feet again.

While your body's recovered, the phantom pain still throbbed between your legs. Reminding you of the consequences for your misbehavior.

The memory of it kept you in line, as you unconsciously complied with his demands.

That was, until his demand became more outrageous.

It seemed that he was testing you—putting you through unnecessary trials of whether you would obey him or not. He'd put a choker on you. He'd ask you to get on your knees, and put your head on his lap. He'd tell you to sing, while his finger slipped inside your panties. He'd place you on his desk, and told you to spread your legs while he watched you pleasure yourself. He'd force you to watch an erotica without your pants on, so you'd leave a stain on your chair. He didn't ask for sex, but what he requested was way more improper, to the point that you felt dirtier after doing it.

And he seemed to be pleased by it, he delighted in your humiliation.

He also got off on your fear.

He'd play a cat and mouse game with you, and he'd scream threats that'd set you running. He knew you're scared of him, and he used it to his advantage. And when he caught you, you'd be forced on your knees as he shoved his cock into your mouth.

You're aware that there'd be an escalation from the moment he declared he'd take care of you, but you weren't prepared for the level of depravity he possessed.

The way he'd threaten you with sex, and soothe you with aftercare, it was too much.

One day, you sobbed as you begged him to end it all, with your tears running down your face. But he just sneered as he rubbed his member against your clit, forcing you to watch as your body trembled when you came for the fifth time.

There were times when it's all quiet, when he was wrapped up in his work. Those were the times where you could gather your thoughts, and planned for a possible escape.

You knew about his gun collections in the study room, you just needed the bullet. You couldn't really escape through the front door, except when it's night. So you began to devise a plan.

In the back of your mind, your rationality told you it's impossible; that even if you killed him, his affiliates would catch you so easily. You have nowhere to go. But you shoved it back into the water, as your feeling thrashed inside your chest. You need to go. You need to get away from him.

Fortunately—and unfortunately—you found out the answer to your plan.

He hosted a house party with all of the soldiers. Some of them were recruits, and some of them looked like they're on the same level as him, judging by the presence of a pretty partner on their side.

You were given the role of a quiet escort, and you were allowed to leave his side only when he told you so. You wrapped your hand around his arm, as he greeted his guests.

The last friend of his came a little later, and your eyes were widened as you saw a familiar face. It was Nina.

She looked thinner compared to the last time you saw her. Her eyes were hollow, and her face was pale, with the exclusion of the red mark on her cheek.

You had the chance to talk to her when they all sat at the dining table. While the men were talking over brunch, you made your way to her and stood beside her.

She was quiet, and you doubted that she heard you, but it only lasted for a moment before she muttered out I'm fine.

"He slapped me this morning because I forgot to brew his coffee." Her lips trembled as she spoke, "But he told me to prepare everything for the party last night, of course I'd forget it."

Your brows furrowed with sympathy, as she continued her snivel, "I should've felt grateful that he only slapped me. The other girls—the other girls got it worse. But I—everything I did was wrong in his eyes. I don't—I'm so sick of it."

She quietly sobbed, and you took the initiative to pull her aside, guiding her to the restroom.

In there, you got the full length of her story.

The man who took him treated her as a housemaid, but never addressed her as such. He'd shout at her constantly, and he'd shove her face against the counter, forcing her to look at the little dust spot she missed. At night, he'd force himself upon her, with little to no preparation. And when she tried to escape one time, he brought home the head of her mother. The only family she had left.

You didn't know what to feel, but you could see that she got it worse than anyone.

You tried to soothe her, but you knew the wound was larger than you could stitch. It could never be healed.

As you both returned to the dining room, you found the table empty, as the men had already moved to his study room.

And your heart triumphed when you saw the key in his hand, as he opened the locked drawer to fetch something vital for your escape.

The bullets.

You watched him as he slipped them one by one into the old revolver. You burned the image of it in your head—the silver, big barreled revolver.

He then invited everyone in the room to walk with him, with the intent of showing a demonstration.

"This thing is a beauty, a wild horse," He remarked as he exhibited the firearm, "You need to learn to tame it before you ride it, or she'll kick you off the mount."

The men laughed, as some of them added an equally filthy joke. He chuckled before turning his body and stretching his arm to aim at the target.

There was an apple on the fence, on the far side of the garden. And the red fruit stood still, before it exploded as his gun went off with a bang.

The men cheered, applauding the magnificent show that you couldn't understand. Why did they praise it? Wasn't a gun supposed to do that?

You didn't have the time to ruminate, as you heard your friend whisper under her breath.

"He loves you."

The chatter from the men almost drowned her voice entirely, that you had to double-check your hearing.

"What?" You asked her.

She turned her face towards you, and a tear rolled down on her cheek. The sight of her stunned you, as she reached to touch your cheek.

"He never took his eyes off you." She muttered as she leaned closer to you. "I'm sorry."

For a moment, you thought you felt her lips brush against yours, as she pulled you into a kiss. And you almost taste the wine in her tongue, until a sharp shrill flew past you with an incredible speed. Before you knew it, you were on the ground, with her body slumped against you.

You sat there, watching the open side of her head as it dripped dark fluid into your dress. It was warm, and slowly seeped through the fabric, spilling over your thighs.

You didn't know who was screaming.

You couldn't remember how long exactly before they removed her body from you. The party must be over since the men took you to your room, leaving you alone as you sank into your chair. Your hands couldn't stop shaking, as you saw them stained with red.

What happened to your dress? It was supposed to be white, wasn't it?

You stared at your knees, as the image of her head was still fresh in your mind. You felt your vision narrowed, as if you watched yourself through the third eye. You weren't there, you were still on the ground, with your friend's head on your lap.

The door was opened, but you didn't notice it. You didn't notice any presence, before a hand softly landed on your shoulder.

You jumped out from your chair, almost shouted for the second time, if not for his embrace.

It caught you off guard, and you began to sob against his chest. You couldn't help it, it was the only comfort you had, even though you knew that he had removed every other hand just so you'd choose him.

"Don't be sorry." He gently lulled you, "She brought it upon herself."

He removed the bloodied dress from you, before turning away to fetch a wet towel. You didn't have the energy to fight him, moreover to lift your finger. So you let him clean the blood off your face, and off your body.

You didn't resist when he put the fresh clothes on you, and he guided you to the bed, letting your head fall onto the pillow. He didn't do much and left the room without a word.

On the bed, you let your mind wander to your friend—her hollow stare, the gaping wound in her heart, you should've known it. There's a quiet anger in you, as well as a deep sense of loss. She used you as a means to end her pain, but she had no other choice. She had nothing left.

For days, you asked yourself if it's the only way for her, or if you could help her, reach out to her just a little further. But what came back was an echo, since she was already an empty shell long before you could help her.

You were angry at yourself, angry at him, angry at the man who took her. Yet you couldn't do anything about it, you were powerless.

He was smart enough not to bother you, since you'd erupt at any given moment. But he'd snap at you if you crossed the line, and you'd end up with tears, as you bit your lips shut.

You don't know what to do with this anger, you still don't know the answer to this day.

While you have the plan ready, you haven't chosen the execution date. You need to be close enough to him to take the key, but you're still repulsed by him.

A week has passed by, and you find the courage to close the distance between you and him. You begin to join him for dinner, and keep him company in his study room.

That's when you start to see the crack.

There's a time gap where you can carry out the plan, at least the first plan. When he comes home, he usually leaves his things unattended at dinner time. You would have the freedom to roam, and you could sneak into his room for a short time. You once made sure which pocket that had the key in, and did a double-take a few days later. When you're certain of it, you move to the gun collections. You had memorized the revolver, so it didn't take long before you found it.

With that in mind, you're ready at any time.

You maintain a good facade in front of him, as you wait for the moment to strike.

The chance comes to you one night, when he decides to postpone the dinner. He has to talk with someone outside, and leaves his things on the dining table.

The window of time will be short, since the time it takes for him to finish will be uncertain. But you take it nevertheless.

You don't waste any time as you pull the key from his vest's pocket, and march toward the study room.

Adrenaline rushes through your body, and you're shaking as you take the revolver off the padded wall. You then turn your heel as you approach the desk, sliding the key with difficulties, before unlocking the drawer.

Alas, you run out of time.

You hear the front door close, and a heavy step echoes through the house. You hold your breath as you slide the cylinder release, and take a few bullets in your hand.

"Mäuse?" Your panic rises as you hear his call, with trembling hands, you try to push the bullets into the cylinder. Alas, one of them falls to the floor.

The noise must've alerted him, as the sound of his step turns into a heavy bolt.

You only manage to put two bullets in, before slapping the cylinder shut and aim at the door, right at the same time as his arrival.

He stops in his tracks when he sees you inside, with the gun in your hands.

"Don't come any closer!" You shouted a warning at him, though you couldn't hide the quiver in your voice.

He stands by the door, with his face unreadable, as it hides behind the mask. You pull the hammer, while your finger rests on the trigger. You're ready to shoot, he knows it from your stance.

He sighs, shaking his head in disapproval, "I gave you time, and this is how you repay me?"

"Don't—don't move." You tried to warn him once again, "I'll shoot if you move."

"Can you even shoot me with those hands?" He leered at you, taunting you with his words, "You won't hit any target if you keep shaking."

He catches you off guard as he storms the room, forcing you to pull the trigger.

The bullet hit his shoulder, and he shouts in pain. The shot you released enrages him, as he pulls a sledgehammer from his side.

You don't have the time to aim as you shoot the second bullet, and it flies past him, leaving him unharmed.

A high-pitched scream escapes your mouth as the hammer slams onto the desk, causing the wood to crack upon impact.

The revolver quickly dropped as you fled to the connecting door, escaping the place through the next room.

You run towards the front door, trying to push the handle, but it won't budge. You hear him coming, and jump to the side, narrowly escaping his hammer of rage as it punches through the door, sending the broken pieces everywhere.

"YOU COME BACK HERE!" His voice boomed through the house, and you could almost feel the floor shaking.

You dash to upstairs, and push your bedroom door open, before locking it just in time.

Still, it can't protect you from him.

You watch in horror as the door shakes and fills the room with the cracking sounds, before it flies open by force.

And there he is, standing at your door like a nightmare.

You can't do anything except running away from him, running to the corner where you'll certainly meet your demise.

And you lift your arms and brace for the impact. You can see the hammer coming to you from the corner of your eye, and you cry out when it strikes.

It's all silence, before a quiet sob falls from your mouth.

His hammer crashed on the wall, just an inch away from your head, showering you with dust and smashed fragments.

Your body slides down to the floor, as your legs give up. You continue to weep, while he lifts up the hammer, and tosses it to the ground.

"Are you done?" He retorted harshly, and you shrunk away from him.

He yanks your hand away, and throws you to the floor. You yelp when he sits on top of you, pushing your face down to the ground.

"Should I treat you badly so you'd learn to appreciate what I did for you?"

"You took my freedom away." You hissed through your tears, "You kept me in here so you could play me like a toy."

"But I took care of you, didn't I?" He growled, "I never asked you to clean the house, you didn't even have to cook for yourself. What more could you ask for?"

You flinch at his tone. You've seen him angry a few times, but never this angry.

"Do you want a toy of your own?" He asked, voice dripping with bitterness. Your eyes snap open, as the phantom pain throbs in your hip. "I can certainly give you one."

"No…" Your lips quivered as he slipped his fingers under your clothes, "No, no! Stop!"

You tried to kick him away, do anything to get away from this monstrous man.

"Get away from me!" You screamed at him, but he ignored you as he ripped your clothes off. "Please! I'm sorry—"

"It's too late for that, don't you think?" He laughed when you tried to crawl away, while he undid his belt.

You cry out when you feel the head of his cock poking against your core, before he slowly pushes it inside.

It was excruciating, as he stretched you open with a force. He groans as your walls clamp around his member, as if repelling him from entering.

He snakes his arm around your shoulders, as he pulls you close until his chest is flush against your back. A bitter tang of iron hits your nose, reminding you of your own mistake. He hisses when you grab him on the place near the wound.

"Don't think you can escape me, (Name)." He snaps his hip against you, and you throw your head back, eyes tightly shut. "Not even in your death."

You scream when he buries himself completely, stuffing himself to the hilt, until you feel yourself full.

The pain comes back to you, as you feel your core burning. He makes it worse by feeding it frictions, as he begins to pump himself in and out. He tosses his mask aside, before he marks you with his bites. He sinks his teeth onto your neck and shoulder, before he lifts you by your chin, and crashes his lips against yours.

It was bitter, full of teeth. His kiss tasted like rage, and the jealousy he held since your friend stole it from him.

You cough from the lack of air, and fall down on the floor. The mixed saliva in your mouth drips down to your chin, and he runs his thumb to wipe it off.

He bends down to kiss you once again, and you whimper when you find yourself growing wetter against your will. The resistance from your walls becomes lesser, and he can easily slide his member in.

"You know, Mäuse," He mused as his hips moved like a piston, "I'm only flesh and blood, but I can be a good father."

He keeps his arm around your body, as you struggle against him.

"I can buy you a big house, taking care of our little ones." He covers your mouth when you begin to voice your protests, "As long as you're with me."

Your hand starts to flail around, trying to hit his wound, but it's out of your reach.

"I'll make you my wife, and we'll live together as a couple." He said with a smile, but through your eyes, it was a madman's grin. "You just have to be good, and I'll treat you as such."

His cock brushes against the spot that made your moan, and he keeps hitting it until your back arches, as you turn limp in his arms.

He soon follows after you, as his cum spills into your womb, filling you up to the brim. You gasp when his arms tighten around you, as his cock twitches inside your core. A sense of dread hits you as you feel his cock doesn't get any softer.

"I think you'll make a great mother." You heard him murmur, before he pressed his lips against your temple.

#I have “writing dark fic is my coping mechanism” syndrome 👍#tw noncon #please read the warnings #dead dove do not eat #könig x reader #konig x reader #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #konig cod #he might be a bit OOC but I do believe that he'd turn cocky when he's the person in the high rank #like what's social anxiety? I'm the captain here #*the colonel #whatever

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erenthology · 6 months

Text

Eren Jaeger x reader (drabble)

‘Did it hurt?”

you turn to meet his eyes, confused by his question. “What? it felt goo-“

“When you fell from heaven.” he laughs at his own joke. “God, Eren you’re so tacky.” you say, pushing his body from yours. “Girls love it.”

There’s the reminder you needed. “right. So I’m heading out.” His whole body turns, “where are you going?” raising an eyebrow, trying to pull you back into bed. “I have plans.” you turn from his grip and start looking for your underwear.

He stands up and and puts his jeans on, “with who?” his tone makes you falter a bit. He’s never cared about more than how far you’d let him go in bed. At least he’s never given any clear indication.

You hesitate putting your clothes on for a second before answering. “Just meeting a friend”

“And who’s this ‘friend’?” He’s standing right behind you now which makes you jump. “Jesus, Eren. you can’t creep up behind me like that.” He stands unaffected, waiting for your reply.

“Just helping a guy from my class with our chem exam.” He laughs without any indication of humor. “You’re kidding, right?”

You feel the tension rising and do your best to avoid it, like you always do. “I’m tutoring, dude. Let it go.”

“I just fucked you senseless into my madress and you’re about to meet another guy?” he doesn’t even know why he’s raising his voice. He’s not mad at you, he’s mad at himself for not having the guts to claim you as his.

Some people would call Eren arrogant, greedy, well, he kinda has the right to be. As the captain of the hockey team, he’s used to getting that he wants. that, and his looks. Flashing what he’s been told is a ‘very charming smile’ usually has him set for anything he wants.

Thing is, he wants you, and he thought he made it clear. I mean, are that blind to his advances? Other guys should know you’re off the market. He’s kinda made sure everyone knows. Except you apparently

The moment he raised his voice, regret filled his heart upon seeing your face. He feels he can’t stop messing up but the though of you meeting another man at when you’re giving of indications of being mad at him, is scary.

“Are you jealous?” You inquire, wanting to understand him. “I’m not jealous! It’s just..you’re mine.” even he looks confused as he says it.

You scoff at this, “you’re not my boyfriend, you have no right.” Maybe he doesn’t like the reminder.

He blocks the door with his body as you’re trying to exit. Frustrated, you sigh. “What are you doing? move.” you say, taking a step forward. “No.” he sternly says and means it. You bring your hand to slap him but he grabs it.

“We’re just fucking, right? so let me go, Eren. Let me go!” You struggle but his athlete body has no issue keeping up against you. “Don’t say that. you’re more than that to me.” At this, you stop fighting against him, looking anywhere but his face.

“I’m sorry.” You’re taken aback when he slumps his head on your shoulder. “I shouldn’t have mentioned other girls. It was a bad joke.” You feel heat rising in your face. “What are you talking ab-

“Stop. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” he exhales.

“I don’t unde-“

“you know I like you.” he interrupts, looking exhausted. You feel a lump in your throat and hate yourself for it. “How Eren? you never show me.” your voice breaks as you say it.

“I never show you? he almost laughs. “We spend every living moment together, I chase after you like a goddamn dog, god [name] how could you not see how infatuated I am with you?” he’s breathing heavily now.

Maybe you have been ignoring his advances. Maybe actions speak louder than words, or maybe, this is exactly what you’ve been waiting for.

“Mentioning other girls did upset me.” you decide to admit. This is your way of showing him you like him too, and he understands it perfectly.

“Yeah?” he smiles and you return the favor. “Yeah.”

“Want me to tell you how I jerk off to you and only you? Cuz I can get pretty romantic you know.” he pretends to be serious. Breaking out in laughter, “You can’t let a good moment pass, can you Eren?”

“Huh? wait, I can go into detail, I usually imagine you on to-“ you slap your hand over hush mouth. “Hush.”

He feels relief that you’re not upset anymore. Draping his hand over your shoulder, dragging you back in to his room. “You know, you look pretty hot when you’re angry.”

You deadpan, letting him go on. Eren explains everything so passionately, it takes a while getting used to. “I’m being for real. It’s hot when you talk back to me. Every time I look at you, you somehow turn even more beautiful.” he says in all seriousness, making you turn your face away from his in embarrassment.

he threads his fingers through yours, “don’t look away.” he murmurs, breathing you in through your neck, using his free hand to push your hips closer to his.

“I like it when you say stuff like that.” you confess, making him smile in your neck, scattering soft kisses up your jawline. “Then I’ll keep saying them.” He pulls back and thinks all the ways you make him fall into pieces, of the unsaid words he’ll make sure to tell you.

You carefully lift up your tangled hands and leave kisses up his wrist, taking initiative giving him the eyes. He lifts his face and locks eyes with you, message received.

Grabbing your jaw, he whispers, “wanna get fucked?” and you nod, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

Playlist

He runs his hand down his chest and twirls his finger in the air, “turn around for me, gorgeous.” You comply and make sure to graze your ass against his zipper, his eyes follow the movement and the air suddenly feel thicker.

“You’re a little tease, aren’t you?” sweeping your hair away from your back. He makes sure to take a mental photo when you turn your face back and smirk. You’re going to be the end of him.

“Strip.”

And so you do while his fingers trail from your neck down your lower back, until it’s playing in between your legs, “Jesus christ, this pussy.” His boner is prominent against you back as firmly holds you against him by your hipbone.

Wasting no time, he stops himself from making you come on his fingers and leaves a trail of wetness on your skin as his hands move away.

“You’re so wet, [name]. Do you like it when I touch you?” he’s being condescending. You hear his clothes hit the floor and excitement rushes through you. “I like it.” you exclame.

Taking a fistful of your hair, he brings his face into yours, capturing your lips with a promise. “Gonna fuck you so hard, baby.”

He pushes you onto the mattress and positions himself on top, locking his fingers into your hips. His touch is so rough, branding you as his. A slow grind of him entering you leaves you breathless, the stabbing pain of his size lasting for only a second before the rhythmical plunging of his cock turn into pleasure.

You lie weightless as his skin slaps against you, spreading warmth from inside out. He grabs onto the headboard and pushes even deeper, increasing the tension of pleasure with every stroke. It’s too much, you could swear he’s in your belly. Releasing a shriek, you squirm away, overwhelmed by pleasure. He grabs your chin abruptly, “you’re gonna take it.”

Running your hand down your belly, you stop to show him. “can feel you.” you breathe. His eyes follow your movement and the moments he realizes what you mean, he lets out the sluttiest grown and pummels into you with everything he has.

“fuck, fucking love fucking you.”

Throaty moans leave your mouth as he claims every inch of your body. He lifts your legs higher and leaves kisses along your foot. “Tell me who you belong to.” staring deep into your eyes, leaving you no place to hide.

“Y-you.” you hiccup as the force of his hips rutting into yours, moves your entire body. He holds you down, massaging your skin with rough hands. A pleased hum leaves his throat, “Yeah, and I don’t like sharing.”He’s so arrogant.

“Harder.” you plead, pushing your hands against his steel back muscles. A whistle leaves him and his face explodes into a grin, “a real freak aren’t you?”

You give him a lustful smile and he immediately obliges your demand and rocks his hips into yours even harder, skin to skin. Keeping his eyes on you to make sure you’re okay.

The way your eyes roll to the back of head head as you start touching yourself is indication enough for him. Each touch of his pelvic increases the friction against your clit . Your pussy is tightening up, spasming around his jock. And you feel his cock jerk inside you.

No words are needed, you both know each others bodies inside out. You come first and he gathers you in his arms as you scream and writhe beneath him, “shh, baby. It’s okay. so proud of you.” he whispers all tenderly, running his palms up and down your sides as you continue to pump his cock, making him release.

His head rears back as his cock jerks inside of you, spurting his cum into the latex barrier in between you. The high of coming together is like nothing else, his fist in your scalp and your hands scratching every inch of him you can reach.

As you both calm down, your rough markings on his abdomen turn into soothing touches while he inspect every inch of his handprints on your body. You’re a match to his flame, and he has no intention of letting you go.

“Staying the night?” he asks intentionally, this feels like a deciding moment between you two. “mhm,” you hum, “but just because your shirts are comfortable to sleep in.” you say, slyly.

Yeah right. “Had no intention of letting you leave anyway” he admits and gets up, throwing away the condom and begins picking out a shirt for you to wear. It already feels empty without him inside you.

“Hey, did you really have someone to tutor?” he asks, snapping you away from your thoughts.

“Yeah, why?” you answer thoughtlessly, making Eren snicker, “well you should probably let him know you’re not coming by now,” he reminds you.

“Oh shit.” you jump towards your phone and he just laughs, smacking your ass.

“best ass in the world.”

#I honestly have no idea what this is but enjoy!💕#it’s just a drabble guys #💋#this is very standard of me but I haven’t read through it..pardon any mistakes #night #eren smut #attack on titan eren #eren #eren jeager x reader #eren aot #eren fanfiction #eren jaeger #just in the clouds for eren #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #my works #eren fics #anime smut #reader x character

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