#called and. there water literally underneath the floor. like literally water is leaking through the floor boards and i found out when i sat | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sluttywonwoo · 3 years

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something more || h.js x reader

Summary: it’s a tale as old as time- your roommate walks in on you masturbating and things escalate from there

Warnings: swearing, smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

additional warnings: additional warnings: masturbation, unprotected sex, choking, degradation, lowkey spit play

“Joshua! Come look at this!”

There were a lot of things you liked about your apartment. Cheap rent, nice views, mostly functioning air conditioning… however the gaping hole in your bedroom ceiling was not one of them. It had started out as a small leak a couple of weeks ago, water dripping from some imperceptible hole in the plaster that had slowly turned into a trickle and then a steady stream, until finally the ceiling had collapsed in on itself, unable to hold the weight of all of the water any longer. You had filed a maintenance request when you first noticed the leak, but it had gone ignored. Maybe now, now that your bed was covered in drywall and pipe water, now that you could see into the apartment above yours, your concerns would be important enough to be addressed.

“What is it?” your roommate called back.

You heard him approach and waited for the gasp that would follow. “Y/n…” he hissed, one hand over his mouth, the other gripping your shoulder in shock.

“I know.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know.”

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know.”

You sighed and took a tentative step forward into your room, wincing when your sock made contact with your damp rug.

“I’ll call maintenance,” Joshua offered and turned on his heel to grab his phone.

“I’ll… try and figure my shit out, I guess.”

His footsteps faded into the background as he retreated into his own room and you looked around your room with a frown, surveying the space for anything salvageable. You were surprised you hadn’t started crying yet. But apparently your brain hadn’t quite caught up with your eyes because all you felt was a numb sort of apathy as you gazed at the mess in front of you.

There was no way you could sleep in your room tonight. Even if you managed to dry everything and clear the debris, there was still a giant fucking hole in the ceiling. The mere thought of trying to fall asleep underneath it made you uneasy. You would have to crash somewhere else.

“They said not to touch anything-” Joshua shouted from the other room. You froze in place, afraid you’d already done something you weren’t supposed to and decided to join him in the kitchen instead.

Your socks left wet footprints against the concrete floor as you padded over to where Joshua was. He shot you a look of sympathy as you peeled them off and tossed them to the side, shifting his attention back to the notepad on the table in front of him to write something the person on the other end of the phone was saying.

The pen hovered above the paper momentarily, and Joshua rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tomorrow? Is that the earliest- yeah that’s fine.”

The little hope you’d had that the issue would be resolved tonight fizzled, and you blew out a breath of frustration. You pulled out your phone and began scrolling through your contacts, mentally making notes of who might let you spend the night at their place.

Joshua thanked whoever he was talking to and hung up, pushing the notebook away from him with a groan.

“They’ll be here tomorrow morning,” he said, giving you an apologetic look. “What are you doing?”

“Texting Seungcheol.”

Joshua made a face. “Seung- why?”

“I’m going to ask if I can sleep over.”

“You haven’t talked to him in months,” your roommate protested.

“He’ll say yes to me,” you assured him.

“That’s because he expects you to sleep with him.”

“I know.”

“Y/n! You’re not seriously going to have sex with him in exchange for a place to stay, are you?”

“Well when you put it like that…” you trailed off and sighed. “Whatever, I’m not above it. It’s been a while since I’ve been laid anyway.”

“Seungcheol couldn’t even last thirty seconds-” he paused when you gave him a look, “I know from what you’ve told me. Not because I slept with him.”

“You know saying that makes it sound like that’s exactly why you know.”

“Please, y/n, I have taste,” he said matter-of-factly, easily dodging a swat from you. “You’re not sleeping at Seungcheol’s,” he said as if he’d decided, as if he had final say on the matter.

“Well, what am I supposed to do, Joshua?” you demanded. “I can’t sleep in my own room, and you know I can’t sleep on the couch so what do you suggest?”

“Take my room,” he offered simply, shrugging like it should have been obvious.

“What?”

“You can have my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch. You don’t even have to fuck me for it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well what do I have to do for it?”

You could tell Joshua wanted to say ‘nothing’, but knew you wouldn’t accept his offer without feeling like you could give him anything in return so he settled for “fried rice”.

“You want fried rice?”

“I want your fried rice,” he clarified with a grin. “You know it’s my favorite.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Okay,” you agreed. “Fine. Thank you, Joshua.”

He gave you a knowing smile and nodded. “Don’t mention it.”

Joshua kept his room colder than yours. Your wet hair from the shower only made the chill worse, but you didn’t want to mess with the thermostat and throw off how he liked things. You were even hesitant to touch the pillows on his bed. You knew Joshua wouldn’t care, but you still wanted to respect his space.

Joshua was literally the most easygoing person you knew, which offered a nice balance in contrast to your high-strung, perfectionist personality. One time you’d bled on his sheets while you were just hanging out in his room and he was completely unphased. He just threw the bedding in the wash like nothing had happened and mentioned that he’d been needing to wash them anyway while you practically cried in embarrassment.

“It’s okay, y/n. I’ve had girlfriends before.”

“Yeah, but I’m not your girlfriend!”

“We live together, close enough.”

To be fair, you knew that this kind of thing happened all the time, but you were still mortified. You didn’t even pay attention to the rest of the movie you and Joshua had been watching. To this day you didn’t know how the Lego Batman Movie ended.

“You need something to sleep in?” Joshua had asked on your way from the bathroom back to his room, having noted your state of undress.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to make the trips to and from the shower in nothing more than a towel, but he knew you wouldn’t be able to go back into your room tonight, and that most of your clothes were still damp from the ceiling anyway.

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

He just nodded from where he was on the couch and gestured past you in the direction of his door. “You know where everything is. Pick out whatever.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You’d chosen an old t-shirt from a gas station souvenir shop, one of many in his collection of road-trip tees and a pair of panties you had managed to snag from your dresser before Joshua had yelled at you to get out of your room earlier.

You hung your towel on a hook attached to the back of his closet door and sprawled out on his bed, pulling the comforter around yourself.

It was late. It had been late for a while, but you and Joshua were night owls. You both kept busy schedules, so at night you liked to take some time for yourselves before bed. Still though, you knew you should sleep. But you couldn’t.

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to relax your muscles.

If you were being honest, the idea of getting laid had been exciting and you were a bit disappointed it wasn’t going to happen for you tonight. It had been a while since you’d been with anyone, and you were craving the intimacy, even if it was coming from someone like Dylan.

Your skin was beginning to feel hot and sticky, and you pushed the covers off of you in your frustration. You had just been cold a few moments ago, and all it had taken to make you sweat was the mere thought of sex. It was pathetic, you were pathetic, and you knew it.

Your fingers inched toward the waistband of your panties almost unconsciously before you stopped yourself. You were in Joshua’s bed. You shouldn’t be getting yourself off in his bed. That was wrong. It wasn’t your room, there must be some sort of boundary for this sort of thing. Roommate code. What if Joshua walked in on you- no. You clenched your fists by your sides and sighed. The idea of your roommate walking in on you with your hand down your pants should not be turning you on. It should be having the opposite effect. But you couldn’t help it.

You had managed to suppress your attraction to him for this long, being in his bed shouldn’t be the breaking point. Maybe it was because his sheets smelled like him, or maybe it was because you were wearing his shirt…fuck, you wished you had your vibrator. The little pink toy was sitting in the drawer of your bedside table, likely water damaged beyond repair. God, hadn’t you lost enough?

“Forgive me, Shua,” you whispered hoarsely into the empty room as you resigned yourself to your pleasure.

Your pussy had won over your head and you’d given into your desire. Familiar sparks of arousal flickered faintly in your stomach when you brushed the tips of your fingers over your panties. You weren’t shocked to discover that the material was already damp from where your wetness had seeped through.

You tried to think about Seungcheol, about your celebrity crushes, about anyone other than the person behind the other side of the door, but your mind kept drifting back to your roommate. You thought about what Joshua’s fingers would feel like instead of your own. They were so much longer than yours… you stifled a moan as you curled a finger into yourself and let your thumb begin to circle your clit, imagining Joshua’s head was buried in between your thighs instead.

Getting yourself to the edge was usually difficult for you without the help of toys or a third party, but you surprised yourself when your thighs began to tense in anticipation as you worked your fingers over your g-spot repeatedly, orgasm just out of reach. You were trying to be as quiet as possible, but you kept letting quiet sighs and curses slip from between your lips as your focus began to blur.

You pictured Joshua pushing himself into you, pictured how his face would scrunch up in pleasure as he felt you clench around his cock for the first time, how he’d kiss your neck and praise you for taking him so well- you bit down on your knuckles to stop yourself from screaming.

The invisible string inside of you snapped right as the door to Joshua’s room swung open and you were forced to rip your hand away from yourself as you came and your pussy clenched around nothing.

The light overhead flicked on and you squinted, groaning at the sudden blinding intrusion.

“Sorry,” Joshua apologized sheepishly. “I just forgot a pillow.”

You used your dry hand, the knuckle-bitten one, to throw him one of the pillows from behind you. He caught it with ease and you thought that would be it, but he zeroed in on your hand, narrowing his eyes at it with a confused expression on his face.

You hoped he couldn’t tell that you were still trembling from the aftershocks of your ruined orgasm, hoped he didn’t question why you were so flushed and breathless.

“What happened to your hand?” he asked, tossing the pillow aside and taking your hand into his own to observe. “You’re bleeding.”

Damn, you hadn’t meant to bite your hand that hard.

“It’s nothing,” you said and tried to yank your hand out of his grasp, but he was holding onto you too tightly.

“I have some Band-Aids in the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Shua you don’t have to-”

He was gone before you could finish your sentence, and back before you could protest any further. While he was in the bathroom you hurriedly wiped your other hand on your- his- shirt in an attempt to erase any evidence of what you had been doing just moments before he had interrupted.

“Give me your hand,” Joshua instructed, taking a seat on the bed so that he was facing you.

You outstretched your arm so that he could see the damage and watched as he dabbed a tissue at the specks of blood on your skin, applying pressure to stop the flow.

“It’s just a little scrape,” you insisted.

“Still, we don’t want it to get infected.”

“I guess,” you mumbled.

Once he was sure that you had stopped bleeding he dabbed a tiny bit of Neosporin onto your knuckle and wrapped a Spider-Man Band-Aid around your finger.

“Thank you.”

“Wait, I’m not done!”

“What do you mean?”

“I have to kiss it better.”

You rolled your eyes but gave in, lifting your hand to his face princess style. He pressed a gentle kiss to the Spider-Man Band-Aid and took a moment to admire his work. It was only when he was holding your hand closer that he noticed the indents in all of your other knuckles.

“Why were you biting your hand?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

There was no use in lying about it, the marks on your hand were clearly teeth marks. He would know you were bullshitting if you tried to play it off.

“I wasn’t.”

So much for that.

Joshua blinked. “Show me your other hand.”

“What? No.”

“Show me.”

“No!”

You grabbed the comforter and pulled it tighter to you while Joshua tried to wrestle it from your grasp.

“I swear to God, y/n,” he muttered under his breath.

You put up a good fight, but he was stronger than you and tugged it off of you within seconds of struggling. He pushed you back onto the bed and used his body to pin you to the mattress so that you couldn’t wriggle away. Now that you were stuck underneath him he was able to assess the hand that you had been trying to hide. You whimpered in embarrassment and watched in horror as he brought the hand… brought the hand to his…

“Joshua, what are you doing?” you breathed out.

He looked at you brazenly and then put two of your fingers in his mouth. You shivered as he sucked the arousal, the evidence, from your fingers to confirm his suspicion.

“You’re a liar,” he said finally.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammered.

Joshua chuckled to himself and let your hand fall back to your side. “And a brat too.” You scoffed in offense but Joshua just leaned down to kiss your forehead sweetly. “I already knew that, though.”

“Excuse you, but I am fucking delightful!” you argued.

“I never said you weren’t!”

“You just called me a brat!”

“Two things can be true at the same time.”

“I hate you.”

“So you… don’t want me to… give you a hand there?” he asked.

You paused. Was he really offering to-

“We’re friends, Joshua. You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. I want to.”

You could feel your heart beating in your throat and in your pussy. Joshua was your best friend and your roommate… but was there something more? Right now you wanted him more than you had ever wanted anyone. This couldn’t end well.

“Joshua?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

Joshua was back on top of you as soon as the words left your mouth, pressing his lips to yours while one of his hands tangled itself in your hair. You could taste yourself on his tongue and moaned softly into his mouth. You found yourself wishing the moment could last forever, but you quickly changed your mind when you felt Joshua pressing his thigh up in between your legs. Lazily making out was nothing compared to what he was doing now. He brought a hand to your hip and urged you to move. He guided you until you were rocking back and forth on his thigh at a steady pace.

“Feel good?” he asked.

You could only nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Your panties were the only layer between your pussy and Joshua’s leg, and although they were certainly ruined by now they still provided the means to create friction that went straight to your clit.

Joshua’s hands fiddled with the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing and he tugged at the bottom of it, motioning for it to come off.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

Another nod from you and he was whisking the shirt off over your head without a second’s hesitation. He was pulling his own shirt off next, tossing it into a pile on the floor with yours. His fingers found the waistband of your panties soon after, and he played with the elastic impatiently, eager eyes searching yours for approval. You lifted your hips off of the bed so that he could take them off, leaving you completely naked before him.

Joshua let his gaze travel down your body, shamelessly admiring every dimple, curve, and freckle that was now exposed to him. You shifted under him self-consciously, silently wishing you had shaved. If you had known you’d be fucking your best friend, you would have, but it was too late now and you could only hope he wasn’t bothered by a little hair.

“How are you real,” he murmured to himself, earning an eye roll from you. Joshua reached out and dragged a finger through your folds, smiling when you flinched. “So sensitive…” he noted. “Did you cum already?”

“Yes, but it was ruined,” you admitted.

“Poor thing,” he tsked in fake sympathy, bringing his hand back up to his mouth. “Just wanna nother taste. You’re too sweet to resist.”

“Shua,” you whined.

“What is it, baby?”

“I need you.”

He smiled down at you and took you by the chin, tilting your face up towards him. “You already have me.”

“You know what I mean!”

“But I want to hear you say it.”

You groaned stubbornly and twisted your head out of his grip, only to let out a yelp when he closed a hand around your throat.

“Stop being a brat,” Joshua spat as he forced you to look at him again. “I’ll give you one more chance to be a good girl, got it? Good girls use their words to tell me what they want. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you choked out desperately.

“Are you going to be a good girl?”

“I’ll be a good girl.”

“So what is it that you need, love?”

You swallowed your pride and opened your mouth to respond. “Your cock, please.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Joshua asked, cupping a hand around his ear as if he couldn’t hear you.

“I want- I need your cock, please.”

“Atta girl,” he praised and eased the grip around your neck. “Was that so hard?”

You shook your head weakly and watched as Joshua pushed his boxers down to his thighs, then onto the floor, letting his cock bounce up against his stomach. He was fully hard already and you wondered how long he’d been like that, wondered how he had so much self-control when you barely had any.

“We can stop whenever you want, okay?” Joshua said, face softening and hand gently cupping your cheek. “Let me know if it’s too much. Just tell me what you need, baby.” You nodded obediently and met him halfway as he leaned down to kiss you. He broke away from the kiss suddenly and held a hand underneath your mouth. “Spit,” he ordered.

You complied and sat up a little to spit into his hand. He worked that same hand over his cock a few times, using your spit to lubricate it before positioning himself over you.

“Is this a good idea?” you blurted right as Joshua was about to push himself into you, suddenly aware that you wouldn’t be able to go back from this as soon as he did.

You had shoved any feelings you’d had for Joshua down for so long and it would be impossible to keep doing after sleeping with him. But you had already come this far.

“Probably not,” Joshua answered with a shrug. “Do you want to stop?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

“Okay, cool.”

“Great.”

A brief moment of silence lapsed while you both stared into each others’ eyes, not quite sure where to go from there.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” Joshua said casually after thirty more seconds of silence.

“Yes, please do.”

You braced yourself for the stretch as Joshua pushed into you at an agonizing pace and sank your teeth into his shoulder to relieve some of the pressure. Joshua groaned at the feeling of you pulsing around his cock, a feeling which was only heightened by you nipping at his skin.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“You’re… so big,” you echoed back.

He allowed you a few moments to adjust before he moved. You were already so worked up that he slid in and out of you easily and it wasn’t long before he was pounding into you at a fast tempo. He pressed hurried kisses to your jaw and neck, leaving a trail of hickies to remember him by.

You cried out each time his cock hit your g-spot, overwhelmed and still sensitive. Joshua kissed you to drown out your moans, clamping a hand over your mouth in his stead whenever he came up for air. His other hand was up against the wall for stability, though it wasn’t helping much.

“Joshua,” you gasped.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can you choke me again, please?” you all but begged.

Joshua smirked. “Of course.”

He did as you asked and cursed when you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him in closer.

“See what happens when you’re a good girl and ask nicely?” he teased, cocking his jaw arrogantly. “You get rewarded.”

You could feel your orgasm building in your abdomen as Joshua continued to thrust into you and wondered if he was close too. You guessed that he was from the way his hips had began to falter.

“Up,” Joshua commanded suddenly.

He slipped out of you and grabbed you by the shoulders, hauling you into a sitting position.

“On your hands and knees,”

“And if I don’t?” you challenged.

“You don’t want to find out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Should I finish myself off, then?” he asked, pumping his cock lazily as if he expected you to call his bluff. “Leave you here needy, not let you cum?”

“No, please!”

You quickly got into position on all fours with your back to Joshua praying that he wouldn’t make good on his threat.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice.

You fell forward on your face when he shoved his cock back into you only for him to tug you upright by your hair. He fucked you like that in doggy for a minute or so before he snaked an arm around your upper body and pulled you flush against his chest. Being seated on his lap allowed Joshua the ability to touch practically anywhere on your body. He took advantage of the new position by grabbing your tits.

He was so fucking deep in you like this you couldn’t stand it. Every tiny movement brought you closer to the edge and you weren’t sure how much longer you could last.

“Shua, I’m close,” you warned through broken gasps.

“Don’t cum yet.”

“Why not,” you whined.

“You’re not allowed to cum until you answer this question for me,” he said breathlessly.

“What is it?”

“When you were touching yourself earlier, who were you thinking about?”

“I-”

“Was it Seungcheol?”

“No.”

Joshua’s fingers found your clit and began rubbing circles around it, making it that much harder not to disobey him.

“Fuck, Joshua…”

“Who was it?”

“It was you! I was thinking about you!”

“Do you always think about me?” he pressed.

“You only said one question,” you accused defensively.

Interrogating you while he had you on the brink of orgasm was not fair.

“Fine, cum.”

You cried his name as you finally came. He held you through it, your orgasm triggering his own as you clenched around him repeatedly. Your name tumbled from his lips too, while he lost himself in the midst of pleasure. You couldn’t see his face as he came, but you could imagine it, like you had hundreds of times before. The way his hair would stick to his forehead, the way he’d bite down on his lip and squeeze his eyes shut as he let go of control…

You couldn’t see him as he came, but you could feel him. You felt his entire body tense behind you, felt the warm spurts of cum fill you up, felt the way he instinctively grabbed at your throat to anchor himself.

Neither of you spoke for what felt like an eternity as you both caught your breath. Joshua collapsed on the bed with you in his arms, cock still buried inside of you. He brushed your hair out of your face and turned your head so that he could look into your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded sleepily and gave him a weak smile. “I’m good.”

“Are you sure? I wasn’t too rough?”

“No, you were perfect.”

He kissed you again without a second thought and you kissed him back. It felt familiar and warm, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Here let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, pulling out of you.

You winced at the empty feeling, but laid in bed motionlessly and let Joshua dote on you. He used a warm washcloth in between your thighs and wrapped a new Spider-Man Band-Aid around your hurt finger. He slipped back into his boxers and tossed you another pair of his to wear before fetching you a glass of water from the kitchen and making you drink it all.

Joshua returned to bed finally and snuggled up to you instantly. You nestled yourself into the crook of his arm and rested your head on his shoulder.

“I thought I didn’t have to fuck you to sleep in your bed,” you said quietly once he had gotten comfortable.

“Shut up.” There was still a lot to discuss between the two of you, but nothing that couldn’t wait until morning. For now you were content to fall asleep in his arms and ignore all of the unanswered questions bouncing around in your mind. “For the record, I still expect my fried rice.”

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arlert0 · 3 years

Note

We need Armin and the reader on their honeymoon. Nsfw please and like just loving each other and Armin being a soft dom and them finally being able to be at peace from all the fighting and bloodshed. We just need them lovin each other happily married 🥺

thiiiis is AAAA my heart 🥺💕

this maaay be kinda long whoopsies ? just shy of 2k words

warnings: sexual content !

Coming back to the bed where your husband lay you bit your lip as you smiled, flopping next to him on the bed. He had taken notice to you and the dip you made but his thoughts still ran through his head. “Armiiin.” You tried to get his attention but he only stared out the window at the stars in the sky from his seat on the edge of the mattress. “Baby?” You called out and he finally twisted to face you. He breathed in a little before letting out a soft sigh. “Yeah?” He laid down next to you, both of yourselves propped up on an elbow as you gazed at each other. Your face began to heat up as always from him staring so intently at you, it always made you flustered. “Do you think we’ll be okay now?” You asked him with a slight off tone to your voice. Armin waited a second before giving you a nod as a smile grew on his lips.

This man was so— pretty to you and you just couldn’t get enough of him. Your eyes scanned his features without you mouthing a word to him, only causing him to smile more and bring his arm up to slightly cover some of his mouth with the back of his hand. You both ended up in a giggle fit and you rolled over to cuddle into him, wrapping his arms around his torso; giving him a small kiss once he moved his hand away. “I love you.” You admitted like always, your eyes all sparkly. Armin had his own arms wrapped around you, rubbing the small of your back with his thumb. “I love you too (y/n)..” He leaned forward and rubbed the tip of his pudgy nose against yours before pressing his lips into your own. You both closed your eyes and kissed each other deeply before you slowly moved your body on top of his, straddling his hips.

Parting his lips for you, Armin swirled his tongue around with yours sensually before pushing you back up slightly as he propped himself up once more. Your hands lay flat on the bed on either side of him as you gently grinded your hips down onto him more, swallowing the small grunt that came from the other. Armin’s hands came up and gripped your hips, encouraging you to keep moving them. You took the hint, continuing to roll your hips before pulling your lips away from his to catch your breath.

Armin lifted his head and pecked your lips once more before he flipped both of your bodies so he was on top of you this time. Your eyes slightly widened and he leaned down to kiss and lick softly at your neck. You whined softly from the contact and craned your neck to the side to give him better access. Sucking on a spot below your ear, Armin made you moan as reached his hand under your nightgown to gently rub his fingertips against your core.

“Armin..” You called out as his knee separated your legs more. “What is it baby?” Armin gave your clit slightly more pressure as he rubbed in circular motions. You moaned softly, his teeth grazing into the flesh of your neck as he sucked hard enough to leave a bruise. “I want it..” You said in almost a whisper just as he pulled his hands away. “What do you want?” Armin asked nicely and sat back up on his knees, taking off his blue pajama shirt. “Use your words.” He cooed and let the shirt fall on the floor. “I want you so bad-” You almost blurted, moving your foot to rub him through his pants before he got a chance to slip them off. Armin pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and yanked at your ankle to move it away from him before quickly sliding his hands up your body, your gown following underneath them as he laid himself in between your thighs.

You let out a squeak from the suddenness and Armin leaned forward to leave kisses over your clothed clit, making you shudder very noticeably. The blond gently ran his hands up your legs before hooking his fingers under your panties and slipped them off of your legs. “Ooh, Armin!” You moaned as he lapped up the juices that leaked from your pussy, the flat of his tongue moving throughout your folds before focusing on your clit; sucking it hard into his mouth. Your eyes rolled back and your hand shot to lace your fingers into his bangs, watching as his nose poked into your skin as he pushed his face deeper into you. You hummed and moaned as Armin cracked his eyes open to gaze up at you lovingly; his hand that was around your thigh moving to poke at your entrance after his tongue spread more of your slick around. Pushing his index and middle fingers into you, Armin closed his eyes again as he fingered you slowly, curling his fingers up to your g-spot. “Fuck!” You lifted your other hand from the sheets to cover your mouth, your lower back arching off of the bed as he continued his ministrations.

Easing you to an orgasm easily, Armin hummed into you this time as your soft thighs began to squeeze his head. “Gh! I-I’m..” You threw your head back as your core snapped, cumming hard on Armin’s fingers as he continued to roll your swollen bud around with his tongue, flicking it with the flat of his tongue to make you twitch. After your high went away Armin pulled his face away and licked his lips clean as he panted a little to catch his breath. He stood on his knees and gazed over you, freeing the bulge in his pants as his cock bounced up nicely to his tummy when he slid his pants and boxers down in one go. You’d never admit but the sight always made your mouth water, it’s like his dick was honestly molded just for you. He gave it a few pumps with his hand before grabbing your ankles again and slid you down the sheets to match up with him. He lifted your thighs to somewhat wrap your legs around his body as he positioned himself. “You don’t understand what you do to me..” Armin continued to give you loving gazes, his sincerity never faltering once.

Before you could respond Armin rubbed the tip of his dick along your folds, gathering some slick before steadily plunging himself into your wetness. You gasped softly and let out a cute whine once he pushed into the hilt. “Fuck..” Armin hissed at the way your walls clenched around him, and he took his thumb to rub it along your bottom lip as your lips parted. You took his thumb into your mouth and gave it a few sucks before letting it go, watching as Armin’s cheeks and ears decently turned more red from the action. “Yeah, you only do that for me.” Armin slid himself out of you before thrusting himself back in, your body rocking on the bed as he started to repeat his motions. “Mmn only for y-you..” You repeated and Armin slammed his lips against your own, the taste of yourself still on his lips as you kissed. Thrusting into you, Armin groaned softly into the kiss as your breathing intermingled and your tongues swirled with one another. He held onto your hip with one of his hands as your arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders to hold onto him, your fingers running up the nape of his neck to rub his shaved hair.

Armin broke the kiss, gazing at you with half lidded eyes as he began to pick up his pace, your own hips beginning to catch his rhythm to move along with him. Armin pressed his lips against your cheek before peppering kisses down to your chest, leaving more open-mouthed kisses and light sucks along one of your breasts as they bounced with his thrusts. “Armin!” You moaned his name again as his teeth grazed your nipple slightly before sucking it into his mouth and letting it go with a loud ‘pop!’ The sound of the bed starting to slightly move along with the both of you didn’t go unnoticed as Armin licked a line up your chest to your neck again, goosebumps forming all over your skin. “Fuck..” He groaned, pulling his dick out of you slowly just to adjust your legs around his waist, giving himself a better angle at your sweet spot. Starting to thrust again Armin watched as your eyes widened and you let out a high pitched moan, the tip of his dick hitting just where you wanted.

Moans kept spilling from your lips and you moved one of your hands down to give your clit circular rubs again as you felt another orgasm begin to bubble up in your core. Armin narrowed his eyes and grabbed ahold of both of your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand. Gasping and calling out the other’s name again in a lewd moan, your soaked pussy squeezed Armin nicely as he fucked you balls deep, your back arching along the bed. “Sh-shit baby you always take me so good.~” Armin pulled his cock out of you again, watching as your hole pulsated for more. “Please! Don’t- don’t stop, pl-please..” You whined, snapping your eyes back open to plead. “Hmm?” Armin gave you a small smirk, prodding his tip at your clit just to watch you twitch in need. “Please don’t stop!” You begged. “I want you to make me c-cu-um!” You squealed out as Armin thrusted his dick back into your cunt, deep and thick against your walls; you almost cried from how good he felt. “O-oh my god-” You continued to moan as Armin inched you both closer to your tipping points. Armin groaned lowly as he leaned down as much as he could to push himself deeper into you, his bangs hanging from his head and flowing with his movements. You took note of the way the moonlight shone in from the window and onto the two of you, and to you his skin gleamed like he was a literal angel. “Fuck baby I’m-” “M-me too!” You cut him off as your thighs began to shake around him. Armin pursued his deep thrusts into your pussy, the lewd sounds nearly embarrassing if you weren’t so close to cumming already. The grip on your waist and wrists tightened as your walls clenched hard around him, and Armin’s rhythm became ragged. With a loud moan, you threw your head back and you came, and Armin shot hot white stripes as he buried his dick deep inside of you, moaning your name as well.

Both of you panted and Armin let go of your wrists, and you brought them to your tummy with a long whine. “I love you-” Armin said first this time after he caught his breath. “So much..” He stayed inside of you, and wrapped his arms around you to keep you flush against him, and rolled so you would lay on top of him. You squeaked as you placed your hands on either side of his face. “I love you too baby..” You responded sweetly and planted a kiss on his chin. He smiled at you in return to the big one you already had on your face and you giggled, lifting yourself more just to rub your nose against his like he had earlier.

#armin arlert #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert smut #armin arlert imagine #armin #attack on titan #aot #request #anon #smut #attack on titan smut

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polaroid15 · 3 years

Text

With Great Power...

Chapter 4: With great power comes a great need to stand up to bullies

Summary: Peter stands between Flash and a bully. Turns out, they can be friends after all.

Read on Ao3 HERE

------

“Yo Penis Parker!”

Peter groans.

“Where’d you get that sweater? The trash, probably. Seems like your thing.”

From beside him, MJ stiffens. Then without missing a beat, flips up her middle finger. Peter would give anything to tell Flash that the sweater used to belong to Tony Stark, that he gave it to Peter personally after a rough night on patrol because he was Spider-Man.

Yeah, that would shut him up.

Instead he shrugs. “The trash, Timbuktu- whatever floats your boat man.”

Unpleased by his response, Flash crosses his arms in a show of dramatic flair. They’re standing at their lockers, the lunch bell having just rung, and it’s more than obvious that the results from their calc test last period has put him in a bad mood. Well, worse than normal anyways.

And when Flash is in a bad mood, Peter ends up paying for it.

“MIT?” he scoffs, narrowing his eyes at Peter’s chest. “As if you’d ever have a chance at being accepted there.”

“Unlike you?” MJ digs. “I sat behind you in Calc, dumbass. Looks like you could spend less of your time being an annoying idiot and more time hiding your face behind a book.”

Flash falters. MJ had hit him where it hurts and it shows. He opens his mouth to retaliate but before he can he’s being lifted up by the collar of his shirt and slammed into his locker. Students gasp and back away from the altercation, though lots pull out their phones. After the initial shock Peter recognizes Flash’s attacker as Jake Miller. He’s twice as big as Flash and three times as mean.

“What the hell Flash!” Jake yells. “You said those answers were legit! My dad is going to murder me!”

“They were! I don’t- I don’t know what happened!”

“I was supposed to ace that stupid test. This is your fault!” With another low noise of anger Jake pulls Flash away from the locker only to throw him back into it. This time, harder. Flash’s soft gasp of fear passes through Peter’s chest like cold water.

Damn it. Of all people, why did it have to be Flash?

“Hey!” Peter yells, stepping closer. He feels MJ’s hand close around his wrist. “Come on. Leave him alone man.”

Jake’s shoulders tense. He throws Flash on the ground where he lays and covers his heads with his hands. But Jake’s attention is turned on Peter. He smiles wickedly. “And what are you going to do about it? Flash is gonna get what’s coming to him.”

Slipping from MJ’s strong grip, Peter advances further. Where the hell are all the teachers? “It’s not his fault you’re too stupid to take a calc test.”

“What the hell did you just say?”

Curling his hands into fists instinctively, Peter raises his chin. The whispers around them are growing louder. From behind Jake, he sees Flash staring at him with awe and holding his shoulder like it hurts.

“I said you’re an idiot Jake. An idiot, a cheat, and a bully-”

His spider sense warns him of the incoming punch and it takes every particle of his self control to not move. Jake’s knuckles hit him square in the nose and he can’t help but gasp at the sharp pain. He’s been hit in the face before, sure, but never without his mask.

A bone snaps. Stars blossom up behind his eyes and he stumbles back, feeling warm blood leak down over his lips. MJ tries to catch him and they both end up on the floor with Jake above them, staring at his fist in shock.

“Not cool man,” Peter groans.

Mr. Harrington appears then, finally, and pales significantly at the scene. It doesn’t take long for him to click the pieces into place. “Jake, with me. MJ, help Peter to the nurse’s office.”

Some students cheer as Jake is marched away. Others send Peter unsympathetic looks. He feels MJ’s hands tighten around his biceps. “You okay?” she whispers.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Believe me, I’ve been through much worse-”

But when he stands a sudden rush of vertigo washes over him. He tips and almost falls, choking on his words, and two sets of hands reach to steady him. He expects the second to belong to Ned, but when he opens his eyes, it’s Flash.

“Parker!” he yelps, his cheeks flushed. “What the hell were you thinking?”

He’s too shocked and dizzy to push him away. “He was being a jerk.”

“So was I!”

“He was going to pulverize you.”

“I could’ve taken it.”

At this, MJ snorts loudly. “No you couldn’t.”

Ned skids to a stop beside them, his eyes wide. “Peter! Are you okay man? What do you need?”

Feeling some relief at having Ned by his side, Peter nods towards the end of the hall. “Bathroom.”

“What?” Flash stutters. “He needs to go to the nurse-”

But Ned and MJ are already helping him down the hall, parting swarms of their gossiping classmates like the Red Sea. Reluctantly Flash follows them, and Peter can’t help but notice how fast his heart is beating.

He tries to catch the falling blood in his hands but there’s too much of it to really spare the mess. He’ll feel bad for it later, but right now all he can think of is getting it to stop.

When they reach the bathroom Peter eases himself down on the toilet seat as MJ starts unrolling wads of paper towel. He presses it to his face and whines at the pressure. “This sucks,” he decides.

Ned shoots Flash a dark glare, to which Flash swallows heavily.

“Lean forward,” MJ instructs. “And pinch your nose here. It should help stop the bleeding.”

Peter obeys, a pulsing headache starting up behind his eyes. There’s blood in his mouth and on Tony’s MIT sweater, which really is more disappointing than the injury itself. Because bones heal, but man is it hard to get blood out of fabric.

“It’s not slowing down,” Flash says, shifting from foot to foot. From worry or awkwardness, Peter isn’t sure.

“Why are you here?” Peter asks.

To this, Flash deflects, a usual defiance crossing over his face. “Why didn’t you go to the nurse?”

Peter, Ned, and MJ share a significant look. Peter sighs. “It’s not that bad.”

“That’s absolute crap! There’s a literal puddle of blood underneath you right now! You’re acting like this is normal or something. As if you weren’t weird enough already-”

Ha, Peter thinks, if only you knew.

He would reply, expect he’s feeling increasing light headed. More blood falls against his tongue. Resisting the urge to spit it out, Peter lets it sit. He closes his eyes and feels Ned’s warm hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Mm? Yeah. Just give me a minute.”

They don’t just give him one. They give him ten. But even then the blood doesn’t slow. He urges his healing factor to kick in as he begins to seriously consider if Jake is human.

The blood at his feet grows. MJ and Flash start to argue. It makes his head spin. He almost misses the buzz of his phone in his pocket but manages to pull it out all the same, a smear of red appearing on his screen as he accepts the call.

“‘Lo?”

“Jesus, kid. What the hell is happening? I just got an alert from your watch that your blood pressure is dropping like crazy. Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”

Eyes closing, he finds the energy to push out a humourless laugh. “Yep. At school. Don’ worry ‘bout me. Everything’s fine.”

“Then how do you explain your vitals?”

“Is that Mr. Stark?” Ned asks sharply, reaching for the device. Peter swats him away and nearly faints when it upsets his balance. Has his heart been beating this fast the whole time?

“Kid?”

In his weakness, Ned snatches the phone away and holds it up to his ear with determination. “Mr. Stark?”

Peter can still hear Tony’s responses, the worry in his voice increasing at Ned’s own apparent distress. “What’s going on Ned?”

“Peter got punched in the face. He broke his nose and is losing a lot of blood. I mean, a lot. Remember the Rhino? It’s like that. Way more than he should be.”

“Damn it. His healing isn’t doing anything about it?”

“Ned-” Peter moans.

“No. It just keeps getting worse-”

“Ned.”

“Christ. Okay, hang tight. I’ll be right there. Can you give the phone back to Peter?”

Peter grabs his phone back from Ned, narrowing his eyes as MJ switches out his paper towel. “Mr. Stark you don’t have to come-”

Flash stumbles where he stands. “What?”

“Of course I’m coming,” Tony snaps. He sounds angry, Peter thinks. “Look Pete. By what Ned says you’re losing a lot of blood. Try to stay awake until I get there okay?”

“It’s jus’ a nosebleed. I’m fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. And remember- no passing out!”

Peter is halfway through objecting before he realizes Tony has hung up the call. Exhausted and hurting and embarrassed, Peter throws his phone at the sinks. Flash edges towards it and picks it up, wiping off the blood with his sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Already Peter feels his anger ebbing. He sighs, leaning his aching head against the cool metal of the stall. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Of course he does,” MJ says while Ned nods in solemn agreement.

Flash looks nervous, a characteristic that is decidedly very un-Flashlike. “They’re right. I’ve been a dick. And you still saved me from getting flattened by Jake.”

“He had it coming.”

“Maybe. But I’m still sorry.”

A thick silence floods the bathroom, interrupted only by the sound of Peter’s steadily dripping nose. Looking more earnest, Flash wrings his hands together. “I’m sorry Peter. And not just for this. For- for everything.”

Peter.

He smiles even though it makes his head spin. White spots are gradually eating away at his vision but he elects to ignore them. “It’s cool, Flash. I promise.”

“How touching,” MJ says.

Another wave of dizziness passes over Peter so strongly that he can’t see straight. He feels three sets of hands hold him up as he struggles to breathe in air through his mouth, the blood he had been keeping in dribbling out onto the floor.

“Oh my God!”

Tony.

His mentor’s swimming image suddenly appears as Peter dares to crack open an eye. He looks disheveled but alert with worry, his hands replacing Peter’s own at the bottom of his nose. “I said no passing out, remember? I really can’t leave you alone for three seconds-”

For some reason, Tony’s presence has Peter feeling weak. Because it’s safe. It’s over. “I got blood on the sweater you gave me,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What? Kid, shut up.”

“I really liked it. I’ll still wear it. Promise.”

Over Tony’s shoulder Peter sees Flash with his hands in his hair, chest heaving with unbelief. Despite everything, the look of shock on his face makes Peter smile.

“How’d this happen?”

MJ and Ned both look at Flash. Peter tries to open his mouth before Tony can notice but it’s too late. He stares at Flash with suspicion. “Well?”

“Um. Uh-”

MJ sighs in annoyance, crossing her arms. “Peter took a punch for Flash.”

Tony doesn’t look surprised by this. If anything, his expression softens. “Of course he did.”

“Was nothin’,” Peter insists. He’s not sure if he feels like throwing up or fainting. Maybe both. “That guy had it comin’. Jus’ like that mugger las’ Friday-”

“Okay!” Tony interjects loudly, patting him on the shoulder. “I think it’s time for us to head out. Feel up to a trip upstate?”

Peter can’t nod. He uses his free hand to give Tony a bloody thumbs up.

“God, kid. You’re a disaster.” Tony helps him stand and grunts when Peter falls heavily against his side. “A bloody disaster. Literally.”

“He’s a hero.”

Everyone looks at Flash in surprise, another wave of awkward silence following his words. Flash blushes fiercely but looks straight at Peter regardless. It feels like an apology, like understanding. Something warm in Peter’s chest distracts him from the throbbing pain in his face.

“Thanks Flash,” he says, surprised that he means it.

Because maybe, just maybe, they could be friends after all.

#peter parker #flash thompson #mj #ned leeds #tony stark #broken bones #bullying #hurt peter parker #irondad #irondad fic #my fic #spider-man #mcu #protective tony stark #tony stark acting as peter parkers parental figure

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blueberrysets · 3 years

Photo

EXPLORING SONGS: HOW THE SUN TEMPTED ME

pairing: timeskip!tsukishima x f!reader

genre: fluff and angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, mentions of alcohol use, depression, grief, angst

word count: 3,343

summary: after the death of his best friend, tsukishima swore to never speak a word about that night and to not even mutter his name again. he would rather stay angry at himself for the rest of his life than to think about that incident. yet, it haunts him in his dreams and in his every day to day life. until the lovable roommate of his seems to show more care towards him than anyone else in his life.

song to play: fine line by harry styles

an: yay!! this is my first installment in my writing collection of exploring songs! I’m super excited to keep writing for this and diving deep into the lyrics of the music. I hope you enjoy and let me know if you would like to be in the tag list for future installments!

masterlist!

taglist: @emiyummy @nyelsy

In the five stages of grief, tsukishima seems to be stuck on the second stage; anger. He’s been that way for the past four years since he lost his best friend. it’s a relentless anger that is directed to anyone who happens to irritate him just slightly. he finds himself having to hold his tongue while an annoying little kid asks him a dumb question while he’s explaining fossils. he used to love their curiosity and would lend a hand to teach them. his anger starts at the bottom of his feet, flowing all the way up to the middle of his throat. having him choke slightly at the ball of frustration blocking his airways.

yet the one thing he can’t get rid of, is his annoying lovable roommate.

“tsukki!” her voice rings out, bouncing off the walls of the bustling museum. her arms stretched way above her head as she waves him down, a bright smile lighting up her face as her cheeks and the tip of her nose are rosy from the winter air outside.

tsukishima finds the corners of his mouth raising slightly at the sight. it’s not a new one, she’s always there for his lunch break so they can eat together. always making food and coming to his work with a bento that has his name on it. the slight smile stays for a second, but is soon replaced with his familiar scowl. he makes his way over to her, hands shoved in his khaki pants. his worker ID hanging around his neck on a lanyard, irritating the back of his neck and bumping against his dark brown sweater.

her office attire is covered by a long, black peacoat and a thick, tan scarf paired with it. her hands lower as he gets closer to her, but her smile doesn’t falter. the familiar big purse filled with the contents of their lunch is hanging off her shoulder, the same color as her scarf. she calls it her “mom purse,” stating how she can literally carry anything in there. if only he could take his grief and place it in there as well.

“look at you,” tsukishima snickers, “finally dressing appropriately for the weather.”

a look of annoyance replaces her smile, he feels himself missing it already. her hand winds back to land a slap right onto his bicep. he couldn’t help but laugh even more at her reaction. it’s fun to tease her, especially when she gets pouty.

“keep saying stuff like that and i’ll stop making you lunches,” she grumbles as she sticks her tongue out at him.

“you and i both know you won’t,” he shrugs.

“shut up, i hate when you’re right,” she mumbles again, pushing the straps of her purse higher up on her shoulder as she walks to where his break room is.

a hearty laugh leaves his lips as his head is thrown back. his shoulders rising up and down as the laugh takes over his body. it stops y/n in her place to look back and take in the sight. seeing the pure joy covering his face as he laughs, it's a sight she doesn’t want to miss. so, she halts in her tracks and admires him. but before he could notice, she turns back around and continues her way to the break room. but how odd was it, to know that he only laughs that genuinely around her.

the clicking sound of her heels now echo off the walls, and he follows the noise all the way to the familiar staff break room. she clunks her purse down on the dull, wooden table that sits in the middle of the room. to the left of it is a kitchenette area with counters, a refrigerator, microwave, coffee maker, and sink. to the right are various vending machines and printers. she places the two bentos and two pairs of chopsticks onto the table before dropping her bulky bag next to her chair. she unravels her scarf and shrugs off her coat before hanging them on the back of her chair.

it’s annoying how frustratingly beautiful she is, without even trying. her black skirt fits her curves nicely and goes great with her favorite maroon turtleneck sweater. the black tights that cover her skin from the cold air transition nicely into her black high heel boots. her hair in its natural state as her face is adorned with work-suited make up. yet, his favorite look on her would have to be the casual clothes she lounges in at home.

he takes his usual seat across from her, sitting down and grabbing the chopsticks that were set nicely next to his bento box. he breaks them apart before unwrapping and opening his meal. but stops his movements to see her loosely putting her hair into a bun before she eats. stating that it keeps it from annoyingly falling in her face as she eats, another habit that he can’t seem to stop gushing over. they sit in silence as they start to eat, it’s a comfortable silence. one that is usually filled with the humming from the printer.

“how’s work been today?” she asks with her mouth slightly full, her gaze on her food as she continues to shovel it into her mouth.

“the usual, how about you?” he softly asks as he picks at his food, “is that greg guy still bothering you? you know i can sort that out for you.”

she lets out a snort, setting her chopsticks down as she wipes her hands on her skirt. chewing her food completely and swallowing before she replies.

“i’m a big girl, I can handle it,” she states in a sassy manner, her gaze meeting him from across the table, “but no, he’s not.”

“good,” he answers shortly, briefly meeting her gaze before it’s redirected back down to his food.

she clears her throat as she picks up her chopsticks again, returning to quickly eating. their lunch time together is short as she has to catch another train back to her office in a different part of the city. he’s told her multiple times that she doesn’t have to do this, that he’s perfectly capable of having lunch by himself. but she insists, and he’s glad that she still does. perhaps, he doesn’t like being alone.

“i can’t believe it’s already december 12th,” she mumbles, mostly to herself, “it’s getting close to christmas, i’m not even done shopping yet.”

while the statement of the date is an innocent remark, it stills has tsukishima freezing his movements as the breath gets caught in his throat. he slowly places his hands back down on the table and slightly pushes the bento box away from him, no longer hungry.

well, it’s official.

today marks five years since his best friend's death.

“tsukki,” her voice breaks through to his ears as his eyes snap open and his body being shaken by her, “tsukki!”

his breathing is rigid as his hands grip onto her arms, the covers thrown off of him as he feels the hot tears streaming down his face. his eyes scan his surroundings in his semi dark room, the only source of light being his bedside lamp. his glasses are placed on the bedside table and his clock shows that it’s currently 1:23 am. then his eyes finally land on her.

her hair messy from her bed head and her eyes holding a look of concern. her hands slide from his chest up to his face, wiping away the tears that continue to fall from his eyes. he’s confused, throat dry and raw.

“you were screaming,” she whispers softly, one hand leaving his face as she runs it through his hair, “i think you were having a nightmare.”

it hits him. he was. memories of that fateful night replaying in his mind, over and over again. always the same outcome, always him being too late. he squeezes his closed, more tears leaving his eyes as does. yet the gentle touches from her hands wipe them away.

“do you want to talk about it?” she asks gently, causing him to slowly open his eyes to connect with hers.

he shakes his head no.

“that’s okay,” she nods, “whenever you want to, just know that i’m here. let me get you some water.”

she stands up, turning to leave to walk to the kitchen. his hand latches onto hers, stopping her from leaving. she turns around, her gaze soft as she looks down at their hands then back to his face. he swallows, this is very out of character for him. but he doesn’t want to be alone.

“will you stay with me?” he gasps out, shyly lowering his gaze, “just for the night.”

her thumb caresses his hand before she gives it a gentle squeeze.

“of course, i’ll stay for as long as you need,” she coos, “let me get you water, then i’ll come to bed.”

he nods his head, releasing his grip on her hand. she turns and walks out of the room, her bare feet padding on the hardwood floor. the sound fades out as he is left with his own thoughts again. he lays back down on the bed, running a hand through his hair. his eyes dry from the tears and his head throbbing for some sleep. yet he can’t go to sleep, he doesn’t want to see it again. he can’t keep seeing that night again. it’ll tear him apart more than it already is.

before his thoughts could get even more jumbled together, she finally returned with a glass of fresh water. she sets it on his nightstand before crawling into bed next to him, pulling the covers up with her. he turns over to grab the cup, taking a few sips to soothe his throat. he sets it back down and turns off the lamp. he flops back down onto his back. a hand laying underneath his head as he stares at the moonlight leaking in through his window. then he feels her, her arm thrown over his waist as her head lays on his chest and her legs tangle with his.

his heart swells at the contact. it was at this moment, that he knew he could trust her with anything. despite his snarky remarks, silent grief, and witty attitude; she decided to stay with him. how lucky can one get?

“i’m not sure if i’m ready to fully tell you everything yet,” he explains softly, one of his hands drawing circles on her arm, “but just know that things would’ve been different if i was there before…”

“nonsense,” she cuts him off, her face still buried in his chest, “fate works in mysterious ways, kei. sometimes it does shit that seems so unfair, so heartbreaking. we can’t help but blame ourselves sometimes. yet, it’s not your fault. things happen for a reason whether we like it or not. you could’ve prevented it then, but who's to say it wouldn’t just happen later on? stop being so hard on yourself, instead take time to heal from whatever hurt you.”

another tear falls at her words, but god how relieving it was to be on stage three; bargaining.

he was so tired of being angry.

“i’m going out!” he remembers her saying as she struggles to pull her high heel onto her foot, “don’t wait up for me, i’ll text you when i’m on my way home!”

yet it’s morning, and there was no text. no call, no text from her friends; there's just nothing. he paces the living room, frantically calling her number over and over. his hair a mess with how many times his hands had run through it. his pajamas fitting loosely on his skinny body, he has lost some weight hasn’t he?

“pick up, pick up,” he whispers to himself as his bottom lip is being nervously gnawed at, “y/n pick up, damnit.”

voicemail, again. he aggressively pushes the red button to hang up, harshly throwing his phone onto the couch. he grips the edge of the sofa, his foot tapping anxiously as he tries to wrack his brain around what is happening. where was she? if she got hurt wouldn't he get a call from the hospital? or if it was something else, wouldn’t her friends or the police station call him? he is her emergency contact, he should be hearing something! what if she got kidnapped? maybe that’s why no one has told him anything. what if-

the sound of the front door being unlocked and opening interrupts his thoughts. he whips his head in the direction of the noise to see her walk in. she wears clothes that seem to be her friends as she holds her heels in her hand. she sets them on the ground gently, not wanting to make much noise so she doesn’t wake him.

“where the hell were you?” he asks loudly, causing her to jump from the surprise.

“oh!” she exclaims, “i spent the night at a friends place, but my phone died. sorry i didn’t text you.”

“you didn’t think of maybe having a friend text me?” he asks in a snarky tone, angrily walking over to her, “i was worried sick, y/n!”

“i’m sorry,” she laughs, “i didn’t think it would’ve been that big of a deal.”

“not a big deal?” he sneers, his hands gripping her biceps in a tight hold, “what if something happened to you, huh?”

“kei, let go,” she warns, “your grip hurts.”

“i can’t lose another important person, y/n!” he yells, taking in a sharp breath at what he just said.

“another?” she questions, her gaze more confused than angry now.

“forget it,” he mumbles as reaches behind her to grab his coat. shoving his feet into his shoes before walking out the front door, slamming it right in her face.

onto stage four: depression.

the last person he expected to see waiting for him at the end of his shift, would be her. her black peacoat contrasting with the red scarf wrapped around her neck. the scarf looking bulky against her frame, but comfortable. they haven’t had a conversation in two weeks, an awkward environment surrounds them since that morning. they kept to their assigned rooms in the apartment, yet she showed more compassion for him than he thought she would. she still set food outside his door, still packed him lunches, still did his laundry, or cleaned his room since he lacked motivation to do anything. opening his eyes felt like a chore lately, yet she still supported him silently.

“come with me,” she said softly, reaching a hand out to him, “i’m taking you somewhere.”

his eyes are wide, filled with curiosity and confusion at the current situation. yet he still reached his hand towards her mitten-covered one and held onto it. he let her pull him along with her. following her to the train station, sitting patiently for their stop, then following her off the train. their hands never once letting go. he was afraid that if he did, she would disappear in thin air. truly, leaving him completely alone.

she pulled him all the way to the beach, the waves slightly frozen as they crash into the rocky shores. she pulls him up onto a big rock ledge, sitting down once they reach the top. her legs dangling off the edge and the golden rays of the setting sun hitting her face. tsukishima was still standing, looking out at the perfect view of the sunset. but then averting his eyes to his own person sun sitting on the rock. he follows along and sits next to her, the harsh wind from the ocean hitting both of their faces.

“i asked your brother about what happened,” she states over the sounds of the waves, “about yamaguchi.”

he lets out a shaky breath at the mention of that name, one he promised himself he wouldn’t say. for his own sanity, he wouldn’t mention that name again.

“you did?” he asked quietly.

“i did,” she states confidently, “and i want to apologize.”

he rips his eyes from the view to look at her, meeting her gaze that was already on him. confusion written all over his face.

“i should’ve texted you that night, given you some indication of where i was. something to at least ease your mind,” she explains, her voice sounding like she was pleading for him to forgive her. all of this time, they both blamed themselves for the situation, “but i had no idea what you have gone through, but now that i do i completely regret my actions.”

tsukishima swallows hard as he looks down at his hands that rest in his lap. so she knows, and now she probably knows that he’s a huge fuck up. he took a few deep breaths, preparing himself for the conversation.

“how long have you known,” he starts, “about him.”

“about a week,” she whispers, “i didn’t have the heart to bring it up to you, i wasn’t sure how you would react. but then, i’ve seen the grief and guilt eating at you slowly. i can't stand to see you like that anymore, kei.”

“he called me,” he whispers, lifting his gaze up to her eyes. tears welling up in his eyes, “he called me that night asking for a ride, drunk. i remember that i was so annoyed by that call, that i didn’t leave right away. deciding that five more minutes of sleep was more important than my friend getting home safely. when i finally left and went to pick him up, the other guests said he left with someone else. then i get the call the next morning, the call that he was… well, you know.”

she scoots closer to him, placing her hands on his face. meeting his eyes with such intensity and care, he didn’t deserve her. the tears ran down his face, seeing who would get to the finish line the quickest. his body shakes from the sobs as he finally talks about that night after five years of avoiding it.

“this isn’t your fault, kei,” she says slowly, meaning every word.

“but if I just left right away-“

“he would’ve still had time to accept that ride,” she states, her eyes full of certainty, “he knew the risk, everyone does when it comes to alcohol. yet, he still said yes. he could’ve said no, you already told him that you would come pick him up. he left you, you didn’t abandon him.”

“i don’t deserve you,” he sobs out, “i really don’t. you’re like the sun, tempting me to be happy with what i did.”

“i’m not trying to make you feel happy about what you did,” she explains as she uses her mittened hand to wipe his tears, “i want you to accept that what happened, happened. there were mistakes made, yes, but you can't change it now. what you can do, is live in his memory. live life for him, and dedicate every waking day to him.”

“i love you,” he gasps out, “i really do, you sunshine. you temptress. so please, if i’m gonna do this i want you to be there with me.”

a smile breaks out on her face, laughing slightly. for once, his eyes weren’t full with the hardening gaze of sadness and guilt. but bright and full of love, and how she longed for that gaze to be shown her way.

“i’m not going anywhere, kei,” she smiles, “and i love you too.”

his arms wrap around her waist and pull her closer to him, lowering his head to capture her in a kiss. the sun is almost gone behind the horizon now, yet the glow from his own sunshine blinds him with love. tempting him to deepen the kiss as their grips on each other tighten.

he was right, he doesn’t like being alone.

it seems that he’s not anymore.

81 notes · View notes

avintagekiss24 · 4 years

Text

All Alone | Ransom Drysdale{

PAIRING; Ransom Drysdale x black!reader

WORD COUNT; 3,172

WARNINGS; NON-CON, RAPE FANTASY, ROLE PLAY, BREAKING & ENTERING, SMUT, ROUGH SEX, FORCED ORAL SEX (MALE RECEIVING), FORCED VAGINAL SEX, FORCED ANAL FINGERING, SLIGHT DADDY KINK, PRAISE KINK, DOM/SUB UNDERTONES, DIRTY TALK/NAME CALLING

REQUEST; Can u write dark Ransom fics.. or maybe role-play where Ransom pretends to be a burglar and breaks into your house

NOTE; This is an anon request I received for some dark!Ransom and I couldn’t pick a better time to post since Paper hit 1,000+ notes last Monday, (thanks again guys). I am also aware that I promised this last week, BUT, better late than never, right?

!! PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS !!

If you’re going to ignore the warnings that I’ve literally capitalized and headlined above, then don’t come in my inbox after it’s all said and done with any crap. I’ve done my part, so PLEASE do yours. You control what you consume.

You hum along with the radio as you dry the plate in your hand. You pull open the cupboard door and have to push up onto your tiptoes to sit the plate on top of the stack. You plop back down on your heels and move on to the next dirty dish as your mind begins to wander aimlessly.

The digital clock flips to 9:22pm just as you dunk the last glass cup into the warm water. You wash it gently between your hands, dunking it again to rid it of the soap suds. You lift it to your eye line, squinting slightly as you inspect it. His standards are impossibly high, but you’ve always been up to meet his challenge. Every plate, every utensil, every cup will be museum ready, just how he likes it.

You pick at the edge of the cup with your fingernail, not even noticing the shift in the house. The sliding glass doors in the living room push along the track as you dunk the glass again, giving it another once over. The radio and your humming drown out the sound of soft footsteps against the carpet and then the hardwood floor.

A masked man stands behind you, watching you silently as you stand at the sink, dressed in nothing but one of your husband’s dressy, button down shirts. He flexes his fingers as you lift the glass up to inspect it again, his eyes scanning down your bare legs.

You gasp suddenly when two arms wrap around you suddenly, squeezing you tight. A leather gloved hand covers your mouth, stifling your scream as you drop the cup to the floor, the sound of it shattering into pieces filling your ears.

His free hand wrangles both of yours and yanks them behind your back, holding your wrists tightly. Your eyes are wide, darting around the kitchen as you struggle against the much taller man behind you. You continue to scream into the palm of his hand as he starts to drag you through the kitchen. You kick your feet against the hardwood floor as you try but fail to push away from him.

You manage to pull one of your hands free and reach for one of the chairs at the kitchen table, pulling it with you as you’re pulled towards the stairs. The sound of the legs of the chair scuffing against the floor adds to your dampened screams before it crashes to the floor with a loud thud.

He gets you to the stairs and wraps his arm around your waist to lift you effortlessly from your feet. He turns and starts backing his way up the staircase as you kick and fight wildly against him. You shake your head back and forth, shifting the hand that covers your mouth slightly. You bite down onto his fingers as soon as you get the chance, drawing a loud, gruff scream from him.

The bite makes him loosen his grip around you just enough for you to slip out from his grasp. You turn quickly and push him back into the wall with a thud before taking off up the stairs. His fingers grasp at you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back into him. He lifts you again but you elbow him into the stomach, dropping him immediately.

He falls against the wall, pulling you down with him. You scratch and claw at the steps, grasping onto one to pull yourself up. You scramble over top of him, feeling his hands reaching and grasping for you as you try to get away. Your legs slip through his grasp as you stumble up the wooden stairs.

You reach the top step and are about to sprint toward your bedroom when your ankle is grabbed, tripping you and sending you crashing to the ground. He pulls you down the stairs to him, your back and butt thumping against them.

He presses his fingers into your flesh roughly, pulling your body into his once more he stands. You feel his hot, heavy breath against your cheek as he presses his face into the side of yours, “You’re gonna pay for that, bitch.”

He moves quickly, pulling you up the stairs and through the hallway. He pushes you violently through the slightly open bedroom door and you fall through it, stumbling and falling again to the floor. He slams the door behind him as you scramble to your feet and turn to face him. Your breath is heavy and fast, your lungs burning. Your body shakes with fear and adrenaline as tears slip down your cheeks.

The masked man stares back at you from a few feet away, his head cocked to the side, his eyes menacing and sharp. His fists are balled at his sides as he blinks slowly, just daring you to make a move.

Your chin quivers as you start to whimper. You blink furiously as your eyes cloud over with tears, “Please,” you whisper, your voice shaky.

His lips quirk in a soft smile.

He lunges at you, his agility taking you by surprise. You don’t even have enough time to react before he’s got you in his grasp again. You scream as you slap your hands against his chest and arms, pushing and fighting against him with all the strength you have.

He struggles with you for only a moment before he pushes you back onto the mattress and climbs on top of you. He grabs your face in his hand, squeezing your cheeks to pucker your lips as he straddles you. You continue to slap at his face and chest, but it doesn’t faze him in the slightest. He just smiles down at you as you struggle underneath him.

He leans down and smacks his lips to yours, quick and loud, before pulling away. He slaps you across the face before grabbing your cheeks with his large hand again, “Let’s have some fun, hmm?”

He reaches over you, his heavy body pushing into yours as he pulls open the drawer to the nightstand and rummages around until he pulls out a silk tie. He pulls you up and yanks your arms behind your back before tying your wrists together tightly. He pushes you back down before grabbing another tie to bound your ankles.

You squirm underneath him, digging your feet into the sheets as you try and buck your hips to get him off of you. You scream as loud as you can, your voice starting to strain and tighten the longer you go. It doesn’t even bother him. There isn’t a neighbor for miles, your house shrouded by mature trees. You’re all alone. He knows it, and you know it.

He rips open the expensive button down shirt that covers your torso, sending buttons flying to the mattress and floor. You sob as he grabs your naked breasts in his hands, fondling them boorishly - pushing them together before squeezing your flesh harshly. He pinches one of your thick nipples until you’re squealing from pain. He slaps each of your breasts, sending more sharp pains through you as you wail.

He moves up your body and sits up on his knees as he starts unzipping his pants. He pulls himself free and lets his dick fall onto your face. He grabs a handful of your hair and pulls hard, craning your head slightly to push your chin toward the ceiling.

“You bite me, and you’ll regret every moment afterwards, you hear me?” your lips shiver as you stare up at him, “Do you hear me?” He repeats louder and more forceful when you don’t answer.

“Yes.” You push out quickly.

“Yes what?”

You take a quick breath, “Yes sir.” You whisper.

Without warning, his dick is stuffed into your mouth. You moan and grunt as he fills you, almost choking as you try to breath through the intrusion. You go limp, completely giving in to him as fear courses through your veins. You slam your eyes closed as tears continue to leak from your eyes, making your mascara run down your face.

He moans loudly as you wrap your lips around him. He pushes his hips back and forth, fucking your mouth roughly as he grows hard and stiff. You gag as the tip of his dick tickles the back of your throat, but he doesn’t relent; in fact, it makes him fuck your face harder.

He keeps a tight grip on your hair, pulling harder and harder as the minutes pass, your scalp prickling with pain. The sweet tinge of his spunk stains your mouth and throat as quick, warm spurts leak from him slip. You gag again and feel him shiver - he’s loving this. He slaps you across your face again and a muffled cry pushes from your chest.

You feel him shudder again, feel his hips falter as he slows down, “Fuck baby,” He groans as he pulls out of your mouth, resting his wet, slippery cock on your face again, “That pretty little mouth almost made me cum.”

He grabs your face again, shaking it lightly back and forth as he smiles down at you, “You’re a mess, look at you.” He mocks, tracing his finger down your tear and mascara stained face before he smears his fingers over your wet, sloppy mouth, “That’s a good girl. Real good girl.”

He rolls off of you and rummages through the nightstand again. He moves to the end of the mattress and grabs your ankle to pull you towards him. He shoves his thumb into your mouth and pries it open before stuffing it with a sock.

You continue to scream and cry, squirming all the while as he flips you over onto your stomach and props you up on your hands and knees. You feel his hot breath on your naked cunt seconds later. His tongue darts out and slips through your folds as you jump from the unexpected sensation.

You lunge forward as he inserts his fingers, curling his fingers to scratch at your g-spot. You hear him moan as he slips his other hand along your clit and through your folds as his other fingers start to push in and out of your heat. He rubs your flesh, kneading your clit and pulling at your folds as he pounds his fingers into your pussy.

You let your head fall to the mattress as a dull ache begins to build in the pit of your stomach. Your cunt begins the throb as he strokes your spot, igniting a fire within you. You sob openly as your body starts to defy your mind - reacting to him, wetting for him, aching for a release.

You quiver around him, your wet muscles tightening against his digits, making him chuckle again.

“Dirty little slut.” He mumbles through a smile, “You’re just begging for it, aren’t you, whore?”

He withdraws from you, only to replace his fingers seconds later with his cock. You lunge forward again, gritting your teeth as your body stretches to accommodate him. His thrusts are hard and unforgiving as he grips your hips in his hands. His nails scratch against your skin as he pushes into you, pulling your hips back to meet his.

You grunt sharply when his palm slams against your ass, the sound of the slap bouncing off of the walls around you. You slam your eyes shut and bury your face into the sheets as you sob into the mattress.

He slaps your ass again before squeezing your flesh in his hands, spreading your cheeks apart to watch himself push in and out of your sex. He pulls out of you and pushes his cock between your cheeks slowly, teasing your tight hole with his tip. He slips out from between your ass and returns to your cunt, pushing his cock through your folds and along your slit until he pushes at your opening again.

“You like that, baby?” He grunts as he slams back into you, hearing you grunt with pain. He skips his fingers along your stomach and up to your breasts, gripping and squeezing them again with his long fingers. He pinches your nipple roughly again, drawing another squeal from you, “You don’t learn so well, do you whore?”

“Yes,” You squelch through the sock in your mouth. You nod furiously to not anger him further, “I like it.”

“Goddamn right you do.”

You start to lunge forward again, each thrust pushing you up the bed as he fucks you with long, hard strokes. He spreads your ass apart and circles your hole with his greedy fingers, before pushing his thumb into you. You squeak from the sudden intrusion, and start to pull on the restraint around your wrists.

Your arms are shaky and sore from being bound so tightly behind you as they bounce against the small of your back with each of his thrusts. He slaps your ass again and the sting radiates through your body as your flesh starts to warm with pain. Your head pounds, both from crying and the force he used when pulling your hair. You could puke from the adrenaline and fear, but you’re growing close.

Your pussy tightens as a shudder rumbles through you. He starts to rub your clit again as he fucks you, his right thumb pushing ever so lightly in and out of your asshole all the while. Your head starts to whirl, fogging over with lust and pain and terror as you feel his dick in your guts.

You shiver and let out the smallest moan as your heart leaps into your throat. Quick flashes of your orgasm start ringing through you as he hits your spot over and over again and the fullness of your cunt and ass starts to consume you. Your back caves and your breasts and sensitive nipples rub along the soft sheets beneath you, adding yet another layer of arousal to your impending release.

He grunts deeply from behind you as he feels your body starting to close around him, “Shit, baby,” he slurs, completely intoxicated with your hot, wet cunt, “I feel you shaking, baby. Don’t fight it. Just come all over this cock like the good little whore you are.”

You let out another shaky moan as the waves of your orgasm start to crash against you. You tense as your body gives in to it natural impulses and releases instinctively. You start moaning impulsively -quiet at first but growing into loud, long, stifled groans as you cum. Your toes curl and you ball your hands, digging your nails into your palms as your orgasm infects every inch of your body and mind.

You feel him fall against you, resting his weight against your ass as his own moans start to mingle with yours. Hot ribbons of his spunk spew from him - spurt after spurt, filling your cunt before slipping out and down your folds. He slams into you, making sure you take every inch of him as he forces his hips against yours.

You breathe hard as it all comes to an end. You keep your eyes closed as you let out shaky hums with each breath. He pulls out of you unceremoniously and slaps your behind one last time as he moves around behind you.

You jump when you feel his fingers skip along your spine. He grabs your hair again and yanks your head back, causing you to grunt in pain, “Look at me.”

You shake your head as the tears start to flow again.

“Look at me.” He says again, that low, menacing tone piercing you right to your heart.

“Please,” you beg, “Just go. Please, I won’t… I won’t tell anyone. Please.” You struggle to get the words out as sobs have wracked your body again and you try not to choke on the cotton in your mouth.

He grabs your chin and forces your head to the left. You feel his breath on your face, “Look. At. Me.”

You whimper as you slowly open your eyes to reveal his clean shaven face. You gasp lightly as your eyes wander his boyish, handsome face. His hair is messy, his lips pressed in a hard line as he eyes you. He’s taunting you, wanting you to know every detail of his face - just daring you to say one word about tonight.

“You be a good girl and don’t move until I’m gone, understand?”

You nod, “Yes Sir.”

He kisses your lips again with a smack, “Good girl.”

Without another word, he’s gone. The door clicks shut behind him, his heavy footsteps down the hallway and stairs grow distant until you can’t hear him anymore. You’re a good girl, so you don’t move - just like he said. You sniffle as you rub your fingers with your right hand.

You focus on your breathing as the clock in your bedroom clicks softly. Your eyes are puffy and sting with pain. Your cunt is sloppy and sore as his cum slides down the backside of your thigh. Your mind races as shock starts to set in, not allowing you to feel the aches and throbs.

You hear footsteps again, this time fast and hurried. The air shifts in the room as the door opens and within seconds you feel soft hands slip up your spine.

“You okay, babe?” He asks as he pulls at the tie around your wrists.

You nod and sniffle again as he rubs your hands and wrists once they are untied, calming your skin. He removes the tie around your ankles before he pulls you into his lap. He pulls the sock from your mouth and tosses it to the floor before he cups your face in his hands, his thumbs rubbing your cheeks softly as his now soft blue eyes search yours, “Answer me.”

“I’m okay,” you answer quickly and softly as you nuzzle into his chest.

“I wasn’t too rough?”

“Ransom, it was perfect. You were perfect.”

He smiles at you, “You’re such a good girl. You know that? You’re daddy’s best girl.”

You turn in his lap and throw your legs around his waist as you hug him, “I love you.” You whisper in his ear.

“I love you too baby girl.”

His hands are warm and gentle as he rubs slow circles into your back, “You owe me a new shirt, girl.”

You laugh gently as you rest your head against his chest, “Then you owe me a new set of glassware. You made me drop one.”

He places a kiss on your forehead, “Deal. Ready for your bath?”

You don’t have the energy to speak. You just nod and he lifts you in his arms to carry you into the bathroom. You’re going to be bruised to all hell tomorrow, your muscles and limbs stiff as a board, but all of the undivided attention you’re going to receive from Ransom is totally worth it.

It’s one of the reasons you love date night.

2K notes · View notes

ratmonky · 3 years

Text

Bloody Valentine

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: guro, non-con, torture, fuck or die

AO3 Link

Your vision was getting blurry, you had lost too much blood already and your throat was sore from screaming.

The faint sounds of huffing and a nail impaling soft flesh with a click sound when the hammer hit its back was echoing in the abandoned warehouse.

Mouth agape, you wanted to scream but the pain wasn’t tangible anymore. It could be because of the amount of blood you lost during the interrogation part. Ahh, what had happened? You couldn’t even think straight anymore.

Your eyelids started to get heavier, you were exhausted to keep them open.

“Hey, don’t pass out on me.” The cold and wet metal head of the hammer poked your cheek. You didn’t know if you were smelling the weird coppery smell of metal or your own blood on the hammer.

You groaned loudly and blinked your eyes rapidly. Once your eyes adjusted to the darkness you saw a thin figure looking down at you and a hammer being pointed at your face.

Although you wanted to push the hammer away from your face, your arms wouldn’t budge. they were literally nailed to the ground.

The brunette stared down at you and then crouched next to you on the cement floor. Her skirt was barely covering her pink panties. The sight of the wet stain on the fabric made you blush unwillingly. You looked away. Upon moving your head, the unbearable pain returned. Your mouth opened in a silent cry.

She put her hand on your chest and slowly made its way down until she reached your skirt. Lifting the cute fabric up, her fingers gently drew circles over your panties before she roughly grabbed your pussy.

Kugisaki threw her leg over your chest and sat on it, still holding the hammer up to your face. She was lightweight and very, very wet. Her panties were wet enough to soak your shirt with her juices.

You tried schooling your brain back online, you had to remember what had happened. You were walking back from work and then and then…

“You dared to disrespect me,” she sighed. “And you don’t even have any cursed energy.” She slowly made her way up to your face. She squatted over your head, “You run your mouth too much for someone as pathetic as you, it’s kinda erotic.”

With an excited moan, Kugisaki lowered her clothed pussy onto your face after retrieving the hammer from your face. She had been sweating and her pussy had been leaking for who knows how long. She looked like she waited for this moment, to have your face right up in her pussy.

She smelled nice. The smell of sweat and her cute perfume kind of complimented each other.

“Put your mouth to use,” she demanded and moved her underwear to the side. “If you convince me, I might let you go without a fuss.”

“I didn’t do-”

“You called me weak.”

“It was just a joke!”

“I can’t take a joke.”

“You’re sick-”

“You want a nail to your face?” Her tone was threatening, she glared at you, telling you to get to it.

You tested the waters by giving her leaking cunt a lick. Kugisaki moaned and arched her back. After circling your tongue around her clit, you took the sensitive nub in your mouth. Kugisaki clenched onto your hair and grinded against your face. Her juices started running down your chin as you tried to fuck her with your tongue. She tasted amazingly sweet.

Each moan leaving her lips was making you excited too, whether you liked it or not. You were getting wet. You found yourself wanting Kugisaki to do things.

She moved her hips to remind you to keep licking her pussy.

She must have noticed your growing wet spot on your panties because you felt her hands move south. She moved slow, almost teasingly, keeping a firm pressure as her hand moved over your underwear. She let your juices soak your underwear, even more, to make you keen and shiver as she teased your clit through the fabric.

“You’re getting wet from this? What a weirdo.”

Your toes curled and your heels dug onto the cement floor as you desperately lifted your hips up to her face but the nails on your ankles stopped you.

“Maybe I should’ve gone easy with the nailing part.”

Kugisaki giggled at your desperation, she lightly blew air on your now soaked underwear to tease you. Then she pulled the thin fabric to the side to put her mouth against your cunt meekly. Her tongue moved across your slit and lapped at your throbbing cunt. Her lips were soft and her tongue, oh, it was hot. Wet. Perfect.

Your lips trembled and you pushed your tongue inside her glistening entrance, moving your lips to give her the same pleasure she was giving to you.

She moved her tongue repeatedly and quickly on your clit. You weren’t going to last long. As your legs started spasming with the threat of your incoming orgasm, you felt something thick and firm entering inside your pussy, then the pain as it abruptly began thrusting in and out.

Kugisaki’s juices started leaking out more when you cried out in pain, her hips kept grinding against your face, and used the back of her hammer to fuck you out of your mind. It hurt like hell and you squirmed uselessly underneath her. Her gushing out juices covering your face.

Somehow, whether it be because you were going insane or how much you liked her taste, you licked her cunt, trying to savor all of her juices without letting a single drop go to waste.

“Good girl,” she breathed, swirling the end of her hammer inside you violently as her hips moved frenziedly over your face to ride out her orgasm.

Your own orgasm shook you to your core, Kugisaki proceeded to fuck you with her hammer frantically without letting you rest. Her free hand rubbed tight circles over your swollen clit and laughed when your hips started bucking against her.

“Needy, aren’t we?”

It wasn’t a question you needed to answer. Kugisaki pulled the hammer out and took a long, skillful lick against your pussy.

You squirmed in pleasure, you were already sensitive and your pussy was still spasming yet it didn’t stop her from inserting two digits into your cunt. Your gummy walls sucked her fingers in. She chuckled softly before starting to scissor her fingers in and out of your throbbing pussy while sucking on your clit.

You rolled your hips, rutting against her face, your juices covered her entire mouth and dripped from her chin.

The second orgasm made your mind go blank, completely taking over all of your senses. The pain of being nailed to the ground vanished, white pleasure washed over you, making you feel euphoric.

Once she pulled herself back, you were breathless, still shaking on the concrete. “You still think I’m a prude wimp?” she scoffed. “Huh?”

You mumbled something.

“I can’t hear you, speak up, wimp.”

“I’m sorry.”

Kugisaki clicked her tongue, cocking her head to the side. “I don’t wanna hear an apology. I wanna hear you say it.”

“Go to hell,” you whispered, a sick smile on your lips.

Furious, Kugisaki grabbed her hammer and pulled out three nails from her small tool bag around her hips. She noticed how frenzy your expression looked and a lustful grin matching yours spread on her face. Sick and depraved. “I’m going to put more holes I can fuck into your body.”

#nobara x reader #kugisaki x reader

41 notes · View notes

xmxisxforxmaybe · 4 years

Note

8. Ice cubes & 16. Orgasm denial/edging

GIF Credit: @s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r

You’re not gonna believe which Ramigo I’m using for this request 🙃

Sticky.

You were so tired of feeling sticky and as you shifted on Elliot’s sofa, your legs making that godawful-schlurp as they lifted from the vinyl, you growled with frustration.

Elliot’s eyes looked away from the movie on his laptop, but he didn’t turn his head.

After a few more thrums of your fingers, you pushed up from the couch and paced restlessly around his apartment, checking to make sure every window was open. Agitation settled underneath your skin, like a million little ants crawling in and out of their busy nest.

“You can afford an air conditioner, you know,” you grumbled as you opened the fridge and let the cool air soothe your skin.

You could hear him move as he leaned forward and turned off the movie, but he remained silent.

You turned around and let the cold air wash over the back of you, your eyes slipping shut in temporary relief. When you opened them again and stepped forward to shut the door, Elliot was watching you, his mouth pulled into that stoic-little-frown.

Rolling your eyes as both the heat and your agitation immediately made you uncomfortable again, you huffed, “It wasn’t a personal insult, El. How the hell can you sit there and look like it isn’t 1,000 degrees at midnight? It’s nighttime—shouldn’t it cool off, like a fraction of a damn degree?”

Elliot shrugged.

You raised your eyebrow and popped your hands onto your hips as if you’d been issued a challenge.

“So the heat doesn’t bother you? At all?”

He shook his head no and crossed his arms, the worn sleeves of his black t-shirt riding up to expose more of his upperarms.

You shook your head and sighed through your nose, stalking over to the window that led onto the fire escape. You leaned onto the sill and poked your head out, listening to the couple two floors above you as they giggled, the smell of their shared joint assaulting your nose and the blue hue of their smoke as it fell hanging sticky in the night air.

Sticky, you thought again, pulling at the front of your tank top and fanning yourself to no avail.

“Don’t know what’s so funny,” you mumbled. “Unless you think melting into a pile of steaming skin is fucking hilarious.”

You pushed off the sill and walked back to the couch, Elliot still in the same spot, in the same position, his eyes watching you with a caution that normally made you want to hug him, but tonight, it just agitated you.

“I’m going back to my place. It’s literally hell in this apartment.”

Elliot blinked up at you as you waited for a response. When several seconds passed, you shook your head in annoyance and waved your hand at him as you turned away. Dating Elliot required a stock of patience, but the heat chipped away at your normal store.

“Wait—” Elliot called just as you were about to slip into your Keds.

Something in the timber of his voice made you drop your shoe and turn around, your head cocked quizzically.

“I . . . have an idea,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stood up from the sofa and walked over to his fridge. When his hand wrapped around the door of the freezer, he paused and turned his head to speak over his shoulder.

“Do you trust me?”

Your shoes already forgotten, you let your bag slip through your fingers and plop to the floor.

“Ye-es,” you replied cautiously.

“Get undressed—all the way. And lie down,” Elliot said, his hand still paused on the door of the freezer. “Please,” he added after a few heartbeats.

Now you were hot for an entirely different reason, but you were too intrigued by Elliot’s proffered “idea” to really care.

Giving him one last look, you walked over to his bed and began to pull your tank top over your head. You unhooked your bra, then slid out of your shorts, listening as Elliot got a glass out of the cupboard. You heard him crack the ice tray as you took off your panties and laid down on his bed, the covers already shoved out of the way because of the heat.

Elliot walked over to the bed, a glass of ice in his hand. He looked down at you, his eyes dancing over your body in way that made you flush.

He set the glass down on his computer desk and frowned, looking toward his open closet. He walked to it and rummaged around for a few seconds before producing a wrinkled grey tie that was littered with tiny orange polka dots.

This is . . . different, you thought, watching him suck in his cheeks while he walked back to the bed and kneeled, the tie dangling awkwardly in his hands.

“I know your complaining wasn’t personal, but it still . . . felt that way. Like you expect me to control the heat.”

“I’m sor—”

“I can’t control the heat,” Elliot spoke over your apology. “But . . . I can control your body.”

“Oh,” you breathed, shocked by his brazen claim.

“Would you like that?” he asked, his index finger twitching nervously over the edge of the tie.

You offered your wrists to him, holding them together.

“Yes,” you affirmed as you looked him in the eye.

Elliot’s face never broke its mask as he tied your wrists and then pushed your hands above your head. You scooted lower on the bed so your arms were stretched out, your knuckles just brushing the wall.

He stood and reached for the cup of ice, but before he picked it up, he pulled off his t-shirt.

“It’s hot in here,” he murmured, the whisper of a smirk teasing the corner of his mouth.

Your mouth, however, popped open in an expression of offense, but Elliot had turned away to grab the glass. He kneeled on the mattress again, setting the glass between the mattress and the dresser beside his bed. He moved between your legs, his jean-clad hips settling against your naked ones as he kissed you, tentatively at first, but as soon as you hummed against his lips, he began to kiss you in earnest.

You didn’t even know he had reached for the ice until he pulled away from your mouth to slip the ice cube between his lips. Holding it with his teeth, he bent to run the ice over your lips, water dribbling down each side of your jaw as the ice quickly melted.

Elliot nudged your chin up with his nose and traced the ice quickly down your neck, causing you to gasp at the sensation when it dipped into the juncture at the base of your throat.

As Elliot moved down the middle of your chest, you shivered. The ice cube was melting quickly and you could feel the tiny rivers of water it left in its wake.

After sucking the remnant of the cube into his mouth, he crunched and swallowed before reaching for another piece. This time, Elliot went straight for your nipple and your gasp quickly turned into a strangled moan as you felt both harden in response to the ice.

He swirled the cube over your right breast, then turned his attention to your left, freezing its nipple, making you shudder. Elliot’s hand came up to grasp your right breast while he teased the left with his mouth and when the ice cube diminished, he moved to your belly button and left the cube there to melt as he closed his mouth over your nipple.

His tongue was cool while he lavished attention on your left nipple, but by the time he moved to the right, it was warm again. The heat from his mouth in contrast with the melting ice in your bellybutton made arousal pool between your thighs. Your wrists strained against the tie as you gripped the edge of the mattress and your body bucked up into Elliot’s, desperate for more attention.

With a contented sigh at your eagerness, Elliot kissed down to the icy little pool in your belly button and licked at the water, splashing little drops onto your stomach and kissing them away.

Elliot paused, once again reaching up for the cup of ice, but this time, he kept the cube in his fingers and as you watched him sit back on his haunches, you opened your thighs for him, letting him see the result of his icy handiwork.

His big grey eyes were half-lidded as he gazed at your wet heat, seemingly in a trance as he brought the fresh piece of ice to your pussy, lightly touching your outer lips.

“O—oh,” you moaned as your thighs twitched at the cold.

Elliot glanced up, “Still okay?”

“More than okay,” you breathed, relaxing your thighs again and waiting for him to keep going.

The next touch was directly to your clit and you thought the sensation was more odd than arousing—that was until Elliot slid the ice cube down to your center and bent to cover your clit with his hot mouth.

You could feel the ice melting, leaking from your pussy down to your bum and it was titillating, that contrast between cold and hot, and much quicker than you would have thought, you felt the beginnings of your orgasm.

As you became more vocal, Elliot flicked at your clit with his tongue, but when your hips began to buck, he backed off pulling away both the last bit of ice and his mouth.

“Not yet,” Elliot’s voice rumbled as he began to rub your clit lightly with his frozen fingertips.

You arched your back and pushed into his hand, but he pushed down on your stomach with his unoccupied hand and held you still. He slid his cold index finger and his warm middle finger inside of you and began to tease at your hidden bundle of nerves.

“Elliot,” you whined, fighting against his hand as your hips twitched.

He ignored you and continued to pump his thick fingers in and out of your center, pausing only when he moved up to reach for the half-melted cup of ice.

Armed with another cube, he teased your nipples again as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, bringing you to the edge once more, only to pull his fingers out at the last second and leave you panting with frustration. You brought your bound hands down from above your head, but Elliot tsked and stretched out over your body, forcing your hands above your head and holding them there.

“I control your body,” he hissed in your ear. “Remember?”

“Please, El. Please,” you whimpered, your eyes shut tight as you writhed underneath him.

Elliot ran another piece of ice over your lips as he continued to pin your arms above your head.

“Look at me.”

You opened your eyes and held his intense gaze as he pushed the cold cube teasingly between your lips, cool trails of water once again running from the corners of your mouth and along your jaw.

Elliot slipped the piece of ice into his mouth and kissed along your jaw, your chin, and by the time he reached your mouth, his tongue was cold as he slipped it between your lips.

As he kissed you, you felt him reach for his jeans, and when you heard his zipper opening, you shivered not from the cold of the ice, but from anticipation.

He slipped inside of you with ease, your arms straining, your thighs clenching, your head tossed back at the sensation of his cock filling you up.

“Oh my god,” you groaned as Elliot pulled back.

He grunted in response and snapped his hips into yours again, eliciting another deep moan. He just felt so good after all of his provocation.

Elliot’s lean body stretched out over yours and he reached up with both hands to grasp your forearms as he fucked you, his hot body aligned with your much cooler one.

You wrapped your legs around Elliot’s calves sliding across the denim as you pressed your heels into him to encourage his pace. After being twice-denied a chance to come, your body was determined to see its climax and you felt the tell-tale pooling of heat in your abdomen.

“Please,” you panted, nipping at Elliot’s ear.

Elliot answered by pulling out of you and sliding down your body; he latched onto your clit and sucked hard before soothing you with his tongue, his mouth moving in a steady rhythm until you yelled out his name, a series of breathy pants following.

When he slid back inside of your impossibly tight, impossibly wet center you knew that he was going to pull another orgasm from you.

Twice denied, twice granted.

Reaching up for your hands, he continued to thrust slowly into you as he untied your wrists, and when you were finally free, you reached for him and he melted down onto you, his slick skin sliding across yours as you clutched at his back. Sliding your hand into his hair, you gripped it tightly as you bucked into him, meeting his hips in a rhythm that soon had you coming again.

You bit down on his shoulder from the force of this orgasm, unable to even utter a coherent word as you came hard, your pussy contracting around Elliot’s cock in a way that sent him straight over the edge.

“Uhhh,” Elliot groaned in your ear, his chest rumbling with his low moans of pleasure as his hot cum shot inside you.

He collapsed on top of you, catching his breath as you wrapped your legs around his waist, not wanting him to move away. There was something profoundly intimate about the moments after he came inside you, and you always strived to extend that moment, to keep Elliot’s mind locked in its hazy, post-orgasm peace.

Elliot wriggled and you relaxed your legs, letting him push up from where his head had been resting on your shoulder.

He said nothing, but the warmth that softened the intensity of his grey gaze spoke every word of love that Elliot knew. You smiled at him and he smiled back, his eyes scanning your face before he kissed you sweetly and moved away to lie on his back.

“I would like to categorize your ‘idea’ as genius.”

Elliot chuckled, “It was one of my better ones. And I hope it means you’ll stay here in hell with me?”

You laughed and rolled onto your side, looking closely at his profile, as you replied, “I’ll sleep next to the devil himself.”

Elliot’s lips were still twisted up in a slight smile.

“Hey.”

He turned to look at you.

“Me wanting to go home to my central air doesn’t equal me not wanting to be with you.”

Elliot tried to look away, ashamed you could so easily see his insecurity, but you reached out and cupped his cheek, running your thumb lightly along the soft skin under his eye.

“I love you.”

Elliot swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, mumbling a quiet, “Okay.”

You leaned over and kissed his forehead, knowing that sometimes, that was as close as he could come to saying I love you, too.

#Elliot Alderson #Elliot Alderson x reader #female reader #elliot alderson smut #rami malek #rami malek character #SMUT #Icy Smut #I loved this request #Thank You

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writesowhatnext · 4 years

Text

you have to give a dog a name // frank castle

Summary: Frank takes a liking to a waitress at a diner – in Hell’s Kitchen it would never be long before the same waitress gets introduced to the Punisher

Request: just something i’d been thinking of for a while tbh

A/N: love Frankie

Reader: female

Warnings: age difference, violence, assault, swearing, dogs, injuries, guns

part 1 // part 2

Working the night shift at the diner down the street just to earn enough money to survive whilst also trying to get through school was not easy nor ideal. But it wasn’t the worst option. Not by a long shot. Especially not in Hell’s Kitchen, where vigilantes and evil villains ran around like they owned the place. Although, that’s exactly what they did.

You didn’t get what was considered enough sleep; what with half your time spent on night shifts and the other half working hard enough to escape them. So, whilst you stood there, behind the counter, at 4am, you barely noticed the guy in the baseball cap sitting in the booth across the diner. When you did, you fumbled for the coffee jug, dragging it across the counter towards him. He’d been in the diner almost religiously for the last two months – only ever in the night shift between the hours of 2 and 5am. You didn’t know his name and given the city you lived in, chose to ignore how bruised his face always seemed to be.

“Just coffee today?” You asked, pouring him a cup. He lifted his head slightly, only grumbling in response. On the other side of the restaurant, there was a clicking sound from a businessman with a grey suit and an uglier briefcase. He looked at you expectantly, clearly irritated. You bit your lip. Asshole.

“Are you sure I can’t interest you in some breakfast? I make some mean eggs.” He smiled slightly as you sighed. The clicking noise from the man’s fingers just got louder and more impatient.

“No thanks, Doll, just coffee.”

You nodded, offering him your own smile before your face dropped and you were forced across the room to an impatient middle-aged man’s beck and call. You fetched him the cheque, chancing a glance at the clock on the wall. 6am couldn’t arrive fast enough.

To say you were surprised to see no tip when you picked up the cheque from the businessman’s now empty table would be an overstatement of great proportions. You cleared his table, noticing that the man in the baseball cap had also left. However, when you went to retrieve the empty coffee cup from his table, you were surprised to see the face of Andrew Jackson. You frowned, smiling slightly before seeing to the other few-and-far-between customers in the diner at this time.

For the next few nights, you didn’t see the mysterious tipper in the diner. You didn’t think much of it, though. And at 5.30am, you weren’t going to lose the very little sleep you had thinking of it any more. Only thirty more minutes and you could escape and get some rest; well-deserved, you thought. The diner was actually completely empty, surprising for this time. The last customer you’d had (a lady, typing away into a computer for about three hours, that went through around seventeen cups of coffee) had just left. She’d paid in coins, and given a generous tip, but you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you placed each individual coin into cash register unbearably slowly. You muttered under your breath as you dropped a couple onto the floor.

As you bent down to pick them up, the bell at the door rang. Heavy, dragged footsteps made you frown but as you stood back, you were pleasantly surprised to see a familiar baseball cap, less so to see fresh bruises and- was that blood?

“Are you okay?” you asked, throwing the rest of the coins into the register and slamming it shut, leaning over the counter. The corner of his lips drew upwards as he sat at the counter, folding his arms in front of him.

“Fine, Doll.”

You frowned and grabbed the coffee jug from the machine, pouring him a cup and sliding it over.

“My name is Y/N.”

“Okay.” He smiled again and you couldn’t help but frown at the purplish hues of his face, the blood peeking out from under his hat. “Are eggs still on the menu?”

You couldn’t hide your surprise at his request but before long, a smile grew.

“Of course.”

He watched you mill around behind the counter, from the fridge to the pans to the shelves underneath the surface.

“Can I get you anything with that? Bacon? Hash browns? Mushrooms? Toast?”

“You’re okay, Doll. Eggs are fine.”

You nodded.

“How do you want them?”

“Surprise me.”

The silence was comfortable and nobody else decided they wanted diner food before six in the morning, fortunately. You were so involved in cooking that you completely forgot about counting down the minutes until your shift was over.

“Voila,” you placed down a place in front of him, not unaware of the way his eyes never strayed from your face. “Two eggs, over-easy. Because it’s my favourite.”

You grabbed some cutlery and a little sauce and seasoning rack and placed it in front of him.

“Thanks.”

You leant on your elbows, trying not to watch him eat but finding nothing better to do. He ate quietly and quickly, not bothering to add any extras. Just eggs and black coffee.

“What’s your name?” you asked. The way he paused didn’t escape you.

“Frank.”

Frank, you thought, definitely suited him.

The phone in the back rang; knowing it would be your boss, you offered Frank a smile and disappeared into the back. After a conversation that was not only unnecessary but about quite literally nothing, you returned to the front. Frank wasn’t there, he’d been replaced by Ulysses S. Grant. The bell above the door rang again as the girl on the day shift arrived. She shot you a sympathetically annoyed glance. You gave her a smile, thankful to be able to finally remove your apron and go sleep.

It wasn’t until thanksgiving that you saw Frank again. It was the night before and ever the gracious leader, your boss had let you leave early. Midnight. Lovely. So, you walked through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen warily, with your key shoved between your knuckles. You were about half a block from your house when you felt eyes on you. Your skin crawled. Walking down the alley, you heard footsteps behind you and the bleakest part of your mind hoped that you were only going to get mugged.

“Where you going, sweetheart?” a voice called out from in front of you. You swerved to the left, quickening your pace. Fuck fuck fuck.

“No need to run. We just wanna say hello.”

You stopped suddenly as a short white guy cut you off. He was smiling. You heard the footsteps behind you get louder.

“I don’t want any trouble-“

“Neither do we, Darling.” The man behind you was closer than you thought.

“Please-“

The man behind you grabbed your upper arm. Your heartbeat was the only thing you could hear, your ears throbbing.

With a strange jolt of adrenaline, you clenched your hand around the keys, jamming them into the man in front’s shoulder. He shouted as you pulled them out, reaching for you. Before he could reach you, the other man twisted you round to face him and he’s toothy smile. Mindlessly, you punched your hand into his face, feeling the keys sink into his cheek. He groaned and pushed you back. The keys dropped from your hand into a puddle on the ground. Fuck. You fell into the other man, hating the way his fingernails dug into your arm.

“You’re a bitch.” The one you had punched in the face spat, his cheek bleeding. The one behind you held you still – not from your lack of struggling – as the other approached. Your bag slid down your arm as you tried to rip your arms away; feeling his harsh grip eat into your arms.

A fist collided with your face and suddenly you were on the floor. A bottle smashed underneath you and you cried out, feeling the glass settle into the skin on your arm. You turned over, tasting blood in your mouth as your head swam. You could hear them talking behind you, chuckling to each other. You pushed yourself onto your hands and knees, your whole chest heaving. You reached for the rest of the half-shattered bottle, fingers skimming the glass surface. Before you could catch your breath, a hand gripped your hair roughly, pulling you to your feet as a cry left your lips. You’d managed to grasp the bottle and as your eyes watered from the pain in your head, you twisted round and thrust your hand into the figure holding you. He fell to the floor and you felt sick at the sight of the green glass buried in his shoulder, blood leaking around it and his eyes bulging.

“What the fuck?” the other man said, looking between you and his friend with angry eyes. You panicked, reaching to the ground to fish your keys from the puddle, hoping to get away. You didn’t get far before a hand gripped your wrist and pulled you back. He twisted your arm until you dropped your keys again. Your cry was cut short when his thick fingers wrapped around your throat and shoved you into the wall. Your free hand reached up to your neck, desperately trying to peel his fingers away.

“You fucking slut.” You moved your hand from your neck to his face, pulled and pushing to try and get him to let go. You clawed at his skin before shoving your fingers into his eyes, pushing until he let go and you dropped to the floor. You couldn’t breathe. Your heart was hammering.

You started to crawl away; your knees were sore against the concrete. Again, you didn’t get far. The same horrible hand caged your ankle and suddenly you were pulled towards him. Your knees sang in pain as you collided with the ground again. You would no doubt have rashes when you got out of this. If you got out of this. He stood between your legs and a different kind of fear overtook you. With nothing keeping you there, you backed away, elbows wet from puddles on the ground. The other guy still hadn’t got up, hand at his shoulder. He was breathing though, which you supposed was good for you.

You saw out of the corner of your eye, behind you, a piece of piping. As he got closer, his eyes predatory and angry, you quickened your pace, trying to ignore the pain you felt in your face, your knees and your neck. You grabbed at the piping as best you could, it spinning away from you as you panicked, still facing him. He bent down again to grip your ankle, dragging you once again, making you wince. He settled on his knees, hands groping up your leg. Your stomach dropped even further. You tried to back away but his fingers dug into your hips. You could feel his breath on your face and you tried to push him away but he shoved your wrist into the dirt behind you. You tried to kick but he knelt on your shins, pinning them down.

With your free hand, you pawed at the pipe, praying you could reach it as his hands strayed to your waist. With renewed panic, your hand finally found the pipe and before you knew it, you were swinging. It struck him in the side of the head; he jolted to the left. He was angry. So, you hit him again, burying into his skull. He sagged on top of you and all you could feel was your breath unable to escape your chest, his heavy body touching your skin. You rolled over. His hand twitched towards you. So, you hit him again. And again. And again. You were crying and sweating and you couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t stop either. Not when his blood hit your face, not even when you were sure he was dead. You only stopped when you heard your name behind you.

You spun around, wielding the pipe roughly, pointing it towards whoever was there. Your heart stopped a little when you saw Frank. His eyes softened at the feral panic in your own eyes. His hands were raised in surrender, showing he meant you no harm. You wanted to believe him but in his right hand was a gun.

“Who the hell-“ the man with the glass in his shoulder began before a shot rang out. Frank’s eyes didn’t leave yours as he pointed his gun. You looked down at the man, briefly noting the way he dropped to the ground. Frank’s hand disappeared behind his back. You watched him tuck his gun into his waistband, approaching you slowly. He noticed your bag on the floor, fishing it out of a puddle, and the streetlight glint off of your keys a good few feet away. He picked them up too.

“You’re okay, Y/N.” he said softly. You dropped the pipe, barely hearing the clang as it hit the floor. You could feel yourself shaking as he got closer but you didn’t move. You didn’t want to see the man behind you. The man you were sure you’d killed. Frank knelt down in front of you, his hands still raised. You absent-mindedly wondered why he didn’t care about his jeans getting wet. You were sure they’d seen worse stains.

“Can you stand?” he asked softly. Looking at him, into his dark eyes, you couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t going to hurt you. So, you nodded. But then you tried. You felt like Bambi as you tried to make it onto two feet. You scrunched your eyes shut as you stood, wobbling.

“I’m going to touch you, okay?”

You nodded again but still winced as his hand rested on your arm gently. His tough, calloused palms were soft above your bruised skin.

“I killed him.” You muttered, over and over again as Frank pulled you slowly and gently into his chest. His arms surrounding you stilled your shaking slightly; you were grateful. You were confused when his right arm disappeared and his other hand pushed the side of your head further into his chest. It hurt briefly but when his hand covered your ear and another gunshot broke the silence, you silently thanked him.

“I killed him.” Frank said softly, his right arm returning to pull you into him. His logic was shaky but you appreciated the sentiment. “Where do you live, Doll?”

You couldn’t reply.

He stopped trying.

Without jostling you too much, he bent down and lifted your legs off of the floor. You were in a trance as he walked down the city streets, away from those men. You only sort of registered being inside, only taking notice when he lowered you to the ground. Still shaking, he didn’t dare move his hand away from your back. A jingling sound rang from another room, getting louder. You flinched. Then a dog appeared. It was a pit-bull with a too-large collar and a wiggle when it walked. A small smile lifted your cheek.

“Go away.” Frank said to the dog. The dog only barked back, coming closer to you with its wagging tail. Frank was about to shoo him out the room when you bent down, patting its head gently. Once again, Frank’s expression softened.

“What’s its name?”

Your voice was hoarse and broken and Frank barely recognised it.

“He doesn’t have one.”

You looked up at Frank then, with an almost teasing smile. You didn’t say anything though; just turned your attention back to the very grateful dog in front of you.

“Come on,” Frank said, lightly touching your arm, unable to tear his eyes away from the already forming bruises. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You left the dog rather reluctantly, following Frank into a cramped bathroom. He coughed slightly. “If you take your clothes off and sit on the tub, I’ll get some first aid shit.”

You were slow to take your clothes off – a mix of embarrassment, pain and unsureness marked every movement. Frank knocked before he returned.

“Come in.”

You were sat on the side of his bathtub only in your underwear. You’d avoided the mirror, already horrified at your injuries you could see. Frank examined you from the doorway. You couldn’t help but feel conscious of his stare.

“I’ll clean up the worst ones.” He said, sitting on the toilet lid so he was level with your shoulders. “I brought you some clothes.”

You looked at the pile of large clothes on the floor and nodded. Silence fell again as he started with your legs, using a wet cloth to wipe away the dirt from the scrapes and rashes on your skin. You just watched his face, too sick to watch him work. Every time he moved to a different injury, he looked at you, his eyes soft, checking if you were okay. You appreciated how such a tough guy could be so gentle. You flinched when he moved your hair to look at the bruises on your neck, more than you had done when he’d painstakingly picked glass from your arm. That was the only time you looked away from him.

Then his hand rested on your chin, holding it in place as he brushed your skin with a wet cloth. You couldn’t tell what you looked like but from the way the cloth became more and more soaked with blood each time he pulled away; you didn’t want to know. When he was finished, he held your face for a moment longer, tucking your hair behind your ear and offering you a smile.

“Clothes are there. I’ll be outside.”

And with that, he left. You could hear the jingling of the dog’s collar again through the door and you imagined Frank bent down, petting him whilst he waited. Frank’s clothes were too big for you but you appreciated how soft they were. Before you could open the door, you caught your reflection in the mirror above the sink and winced.

You were bruised all over and your nose was still raw despite Frank’s attempts to get rid of the blood. You could also see the welt forming on your neck. You could’ve stood there for hours; thankfully, Frank’s gentle knocking pulled you from your reverie and you opened the door to see him leaning against the wall opposite, pit-bull sitting happily at his feet.

“You should stay here tonight.”

You only nodded again before he led you into the lounge. It wasn’t much, with only a TV and a sofa linked to a tiny looking kitchen. You sat down, smiling slightly when the dog sat next to you, eager for more attention.

“Do you want some food?” Frank didn’t strike you as a man with a stocked kitchen. “Coffee? Water?”

“Water, please.”

Frank searched a good five minutes for a clean glass before he decided you’d have to cope with a coffee-stained mug. When he got back to the couch, he found you asleep, his dog sitting on your lap. He smiled. When the dog noticed him, he wagged his tail ferociously but, you didn’t wake up. So, he decided you probably wouldn’t wake up if he moved you. The dog was hot on his heels as he carried you to his bed, placing you under the covers and sending his dog a dry look when he joined you.

“You’re lucky she likes you.” He said to the dog, casting one last look at your face before closing the door and disappearing to spend the night on the couch.

#frank castle #the punisher #frank castle imagine #frank castle x reader #the punisher imagine #imagine #writing

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thestruidora · 4 years

Text

Landslide

The Avengers (MCU) Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Obsessive Behavior, Smut, Shower Sex, Edging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Fluff, Oral Sex, thigh riding, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Dominance, Submission, Knotting, Scenting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Rutting, Rut Sickness

Category: F/M

Pairings: Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

Summary: Steve was never quite sure if he truly was an alpha. Genetically he should be, coming from a long line of alpha males. But due to the several health conditions in his youth, his poorly functioning body never presented. But now, because of the serum reacting to his true designation, a terrible case of rut sickness takes hold of the super soldier, threatening his life. Being a beta, Natasha can’t offer him what he needs, and since omegas are rarer today then ever, she is forced to hire a foreign girl to tend to Steve during these desperate times.

Shout outs: @captainchrisstan, @keenkiddeputynickel, @danidv011, @ballyhoobarnes, @pophbfdsxa and @crashbarbie Thank you so much for you guys support!

Author’s notes: English it’s not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

For those who missed it >> Chapter One

Chapter Two

Bilingual

Steve was hot.

His whole room had become a furnace from the heat that seemed to come from within him. His skin prickled against the sweat covered sheets of his bed and he could taste the metal of his blood as he bit his lip yet again while trying to control a moan.

His clothes were long forgotten by the side of the bed. Everything being too much when in contact with his hypersensitive body. His mouth was dry but his hands felt sticky when he went in to hold his once again hard cock.

“Fuck…” He let out a hiss.

It hurt to touch the warm abused skin, but it hurt even more not to. He looked down to the swelled member in between his hands, grabbing it firmer and coasting through the pain. He could feel it growing hotter and wetter as it leaked at the angry red tip.

Each and every vein in his dick became visible as his movements turned more erratic. The palm of his hands were slippery from all the precum he was producing. The up and down motion so fast he could barely see it now.

A coil started to form in his abdomen, building higher and higher. He could hear himself panting quietly, controlling his own ministrations and the audible reactions to hide the shame as his face heated from the intimate act.

He felt as degraded as he felt desperate. He felt like hiding just as much as he felt like screaming.

There was this unspeakable need metastasizing deep inside of him. The noises he was creating getting louder and whinier.

He threw his head back, closing his eyes and seeing only whiteness. There was a shape forming behind his eyelids. Inviting features appearing bit by bit while the intensity of his pleasure tenfold. He shivered in his bed when the all-consuming fire grazed his loins, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his mouth fall agape.

Beads of transpiration coagulated in his forehead, traveling low down his back and teasing the sensible skin until it made it’s way to the soaked fabric underneath him. He was close. He was so close and so hot.

He was so hot he felt like dying.

He knew there was something missing, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Much like his now too sensitive to the touch dick.

“Shit!” Steve grunted, letting go of the tender piece of flesh.

His head was aching and his hands shaking from the lack of release. The whole room smelled of his rut. In fact, his entire apartment was sending a loud and clear message to any alpha in proximity that at this point he would do about anything to find and mount an omega.

Too bad that they didn’t exist anymore.

They were already pretty rare in his time, but he never thought that he wouldn’t be able to find one to literally save his life.

Ever since Bruce had broke down his condition, Natasha seemed hellbent in finding a solution. But somehow Steve knew that she couldn’t help him. It was almost ancestral how his instincts came forward and took over his judgment.

He didn’t want some chemically engineered version of an omega’s scent. He didn’t want to deliberately trick his new and improved senses. Nor to settle with a generic take on the experience of what being with an omega should feel like.

Even though he was aware it was an overly romanticized principle, Steve was raised to believe that to every alpha there was a perfectly matched omega, and that it was his duty to find her… wherever she was. It sure had stung to realize that he had failed at something so primitive that now his body was punishing him. Of course that, by now, in the thick of his rut, all of that sounded a lot like bullshit.

Accepting the reality imposed to him, one in which he wouldn’t be able to cum no matter how hard he tried, he fought against the heaviness that had settled over his shoulders and stumbled out of bed.

The cold surface of the floor in contact with his feet caused a shiver to run up his spine and he had to hold on to the nightstand when vertigo took over and the room spun.

Mumbling to himself in the silence of his solitude, he struggled to stay up straight, a sickening sensation undulating in his lower belly. His cock stood painfully upwards, a shade of purple dominating the pulsing length, particularly in the shiny whipping head. Not being capable to contain a moan, Steve shuddered whilst making his way to the bathroom connected to his bedroom.

“So hot…” He moaned as he made his way to the spacious bathtub, turning on the tap in order to fill it to the brim with cold water. “I need…”

He could hear movement coming from the living room as if it was happening directly in his ear. The sounds of skin scuffing when in touch with fabric and keys jiggling sharply against one another. Choosing to ignore his own rut induced hallucinations, he closed the tub’s tap, taking in a deep breath when it came time to insert himself into the freezing water.

Steve could swear he saw steam emerging when his burning hot physique was enveloped by the icy liquid. The massive muscles of the super soldier contracting with the effort. The water overlapping as his impressive figure filled out the tub.

“Too hot…” Somehow he still felt warm. His complexion blushed to the point of redness, a tingling starting from the top of his scalp all the way to his thighs.

With chattering teeth and shuddering shoulders, he shut his eyes tightly and slowly allowed his torso to slip through the porcelain, the water covering his head completely as he submerged, letting the physical ache transport itself to a sentimental one.

There was this irrational part of him that believed this moment to be his downfall. That believed that a life such as this, without being capable to help or be helped, wasn’t worth living.

In the raze of his fever, Steve opened his eyes from underwater, a feminine outline appearing from the surface and looking right down at him. Though unrecognizable in the blurriness, the image stirred up a buzz inside of him, his senses flashing in alarm. A weird feeling of recollection spread in his mind, the color radiating from the stranger’s irises creating a different kind of warmth within.

The more he stared the better he felt. Lighter, almost. As if floating on a cloud. All of the soreness leaving his being at once. The corner of his lips lifting a bit as darkness began to engulf the view.

“Steve!” The calling of his name in a familiar voice startled him. Reaching hands grabbing his arms and pulling, bringing the barely awake man to the surface.

He gasped for air as it filled his lungs way too quickly, leaving a burning sensation. Droplets of water trickled from his hair, dripping through his face and neck.

“Goddammit, Steve! What were you thinking?” Small fingers lingered at his biceps, wobbly sustaining his weight as he was guided off the bathtub. “I called a thousand times. Bucky said it was best to leave you alone, but I knew there was something wrong.”

The light greenish irises of Natasha’s eyes greeted him finally, and he tensed in her arms as she struggled to take him back to his bed. The embarrassment consuming his thoughts while he tried his best to hide his nudity.

“You’re not supposed to be here. I don’t want anyone here.” His voice faltered, the words tripping over one another.

“I can see that. It sure would be much more easy for you to kill yourself without my interference.” The redhead run up to his wardrobe, grabbing a big towel and proceeding to wrap him up around the broad shoulders with it.

“I wasn’t trying to… I just wanted to see something.” She wouldn’t have been able to hear him hadn’t she been so near, rubbing his arms repeatedly in a vertical motion.

“See what, Steve? What are you talking about?” Her hand grazed his chest for only one second, but she noticed the hairs in that area raising when he shivered due to the touch. “How can you be this warm still?”

In comparison to her hand, his skin felt like a scalding flame. Paying closer attention to it now, she saw how blushed it looked. The muscles tight, a sheen of sweat starting to blend in with the particles of what was left behind from the frosty cold water.

“I’m…” Natasha heard him mutter as his blue eyes drifted from her face and became empty and unfocused, as if he couldn’t see her anymore or chose not to acknowledge her presence.

Her focus was drawn to his waist line, a peculiar movement calling her eye. The length of his cock pulsated as it expanded, the balls contracting whilst beads of weeping fluid oozed out of the tip and slid across the smooth skin that enveloped the head.

She swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth as she examined his situation. It looked like it hurt. He was in pain.

“Hot… Too hot. I need…” Steve decided to remove the towel from his body in a rush, throwing it as far away from him as he could muster the strength to.

Trembling red lips whined when he tried to create some space between himself and his ginger friend, her body providing too much heat and making it unbearable for him to remain by her side.

“Please, Nat. Let me just…” Her nails had planted themselves in his shoulders, digging strongly to stop his fleeing. “I really need…”

“I know what you need, Steve. Calm down.” She knelt in front of his sitting figure, holding him upright with two hands due to his jelly like posture. “Look at me.” Her voice turned assertive in a way he hadn’t heard up to that point.

He fixated his attention back to the russian spy. Her touch was firm when she balanced herself on her knees, hands spread out on each of his naked thighs.

“No, please, I don’t feel so good.” She silenced his protests, shaking her head no to his attempts at getting up.

“Bruce explained what’s happening, remember? You need a compatible match to help you through your rut, Steve.” The blonde gasped at her words, dick twitching in the air.

“An omega.” He murmured more to himself then to her, head bobbing side to side from the exhaustion settling over him because of what felt like a pointless interaction.

The mere idea of having an omega to tend to his needs causing his hips to move on their own accord, trusting forwards and brushing the inside of her arm with his erect member. A grunt came from deep within him, a distinct pressure building in his chest.

“I need to find an omega.” He chanted.

“What you need is to cum, sweetheart.” Natasha’s expression was one of confidence when she held his cock securely using both hands.

The cold feeling of her palms against the vulnerably delicate piece of flesh send his instincts into a riot, a vibration starting inside of him.

“No.” He whispered in between puffs and huffs, inaudible in such small volume.

“And I can help you with that.” She continued, mistaking the sounds he was forming by ones of ecstasy. “There’s nothing an omega can give you that I can’t, Steve. Every since we met there was this connection between the two of us. You’ve made me open up in ways I never thought I would, because we understand each other.”

Steve stared down at her, motionless as she began to move her hands across his shaft. An odd admiration on her eyes as she focused at the task in front of her, the member pointing to the ceiling as a rumble left the alpha’s gritted teeth, his angelic colored irises darkening in a sinister fashion.

“And I know you feel the same.” Without thinking twice, Natasha went in open mouthed in the cock’s direction, moving with purpose.

But before her lips could graze the leaking tip, Steve’s hands were in the back of her head, fingers intertwining with the fiery locks and pulling drastically.

“No!” He but roared, gaining an unexpected strength.

Getting up from the bed in a brutal maneuver, the grab in Natasha’s hair intensified as he brought her up with him.

“What the hell are you doing?” She demanded, forcing him out of her with difficulty.

“Don’t ever do that again.” His voice was loud and clear now, imposing even.

His chest was puffed out and lips sneering, showing a bit of teeth. A glimpse of a fang appearing in the raze of the feral atmosphere, but disappearing seconds after.

“What’s wrong?” Her frown softened when she realized his state, reaching in to touch his face but being stopped dead in her tracks by the growling sound he emitted.

“You. You smell wrong.” Each of his words were perfectly enunciated, leaving no room for Natasha to be misled.

Scanning his appearance now, she realized how weak he actually looked. Sickly, in fact. Going slowly mad from the rut fever melting his rational mind.

And even though it would hurt for her to see him with anyone else besides her, especially now that she so abruptly confessed her feelings for him; it would hurt even more to see him suffering and eventually dying from this condition.

So she knew that from that moment on, it was her task to save him, even if it meant going to the ends of earth to find a fucking omega for him to spend his rut with.

Author’s end notes: I'm still not sure if I want Bucky to get involved with the reader or not, either in a romantic level or just a physical one. Because, clearly, Natasha is going to be a part of the reader's relationship with Steve. Just don't know if I want Bucky to be as well. Let me know what you guys think, please! (Taking to consideration that neither Steve or Bucky are going to be dark on this one).

Chapter 3

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thebonerpit · 4 years

Text

tip of your tongue [fic]

tip of your tongue

Rom Howney, 2213 words, [E], read on Ao3 here

Tom has a terrible gag reflex and Robert just wants to help, aka, 2020: the year that inspires us to make mouth swabs sexy. (Cannot believe an Instagram video of Tom gagging on a swab would help get over my writer’s block...)

“Happy to see you’re being safe, even if that looks very uncomfortable. Awful gag reflex, by the way. Miss ya underoos.”

Most of the time, Tom assumes Robert never even sees his Instagram posts. He figures he’s too busy with other way more important movie star type things, or hanging out with his family, or doing literally anything other than browsing Instagram for hours like Tom does when he’s bored. But of course he happens to catch the one where he gags about two seconds after having that evil fucking swab shoved down his throat. It’s embarrassing, to say the least. He can practically see Robert’s smirk as he reads the DM.

Tom feels his cheeks colour slightly. Emboldened by the two beers he has just downed, he quickly types out a response and hits “send” before he can change his mind.

“It was horrid, but worth it. And yeah, haven’t had much chance to practice. xoxo.”

He throws his phone down on the couch so hard it bounces off and hits the floor.

“Fuck,” he hisses, grabbing for it and sinking back into the cushions in relief when the screen doesn’t show any visible cracks. Then he stares at it for a good ten minutes, totally NOT waiting for a response from Robert. Not at all. But when one doesn’t come he groans and buries his face in one of the big, soft pillows beside him.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” he says into the fabric. “I wonder how long it would take to suffocate myself like this.”

“Are you saying something?! Why d’you sound like you’ve got your head in a jar?” Harry yells across the house. Tom groans again but launches himself off the couch and in the direction of Harry’s voice, leaving his phone on the coffee table, hoping for a distraction.

Ten o’clock that evening there’s a notification blinking at him. Tom nearly drops the phone again in his haste to check it.

“Didn’t think so, a good boy like you. Take it from someone who knows… practice does make perfect. I hear bananas work well. You have those in England, don’t you?”

Tom makes a painful, strangled noise that has Harry running to see if he’s broken something.

For some reason, they keep texting. It moves from Instagram DMs to actual text messages and Tom thinks that’s meaningful in some way… maybe… or not. Sometimes they’re flirty, sometimes they’re completely benign. Tom’s working on Uncharted and it keeps him too busy to dwell on it most of the time, until there’s a break in shooting for a week and he’s responding to Robert’s texts WAY too eagerly and he’d be mortified for himself if Robert wasn’t responding just as fast.

One night, after a few beers (again, god, he really needs to stop drinking) he sends a video. Because he has been practicing, actually. Not with bananas but with his toothbrush every morning, so that’s what he uses. He smiles at the camera and then opens wide and slides the handle into his mouth, taking care to concentrate on his breathing. His tongue pokes out underneath it and if he curls it slightly around the handle it was only to hold it steady, of course. The brush goes in a respectable distance until he feels his throat spasm and he gags slightly as he pulls it back out. His eyes water but he smiles again and does a completely dorky thumbs up before cutting the video off.

He cracks open another beer to wait with but the response comes almost immediately.

“Jesus, you’re pretty. Working hard, I see? Very good, I’m so proud.”

Tom blushes at the praise and squirms happily, kicking his feet a little. He’s alone in his hotel room, who fucking cares, Robert makes him giddy and he’ll kick his feet if he wants to.

“Aww you really think I’m pretty? I am working hard. Can even do it with the banana.”

“Show me.”

Fuck. FUCK. Tom hasn’t even attempted the banana yet but he didn’t expected Robert to respond… like that. He hops off the bed, grabs it from the bowl in the kitchenette, and immediately sticks it in his mouth.

“Peel it first, you absolute fucking moron,” he says with a grimace, and takes another swig of beer to wash away the taste of banana peel. He only has one banana, though, so if he’s gonna do this he has to film it right away or else it might start falling to bits after, er, repeated use. So he sets up his phone at an attractive angle and hits record.

He smiles again, less cheesy this time and what he hopes is more seductive, before turning slightly to the side and opening his mouth. The sweetness is almost overwhelming on its own, never mind how much thicker the banana is than a toothbrush, but he takes it slowly and slips it over his tongue. He has to close his lips around it, there isn’t really any other way, so he takes the opportunity to glance at the camera when he does, eyes lidded and slightly hazy from the alcohol. He stops about halfway down and makes a pathetic little sad noise because he knows he’s almost at his limit but fuck he wants to impress Robert so badly… so against his better judgement, he keeps going. Tom pulls out every trick in the book: breathing through his nose, squeezing his thumb in his fist, pressing up with his tongue. He makes it further than he did with the toothbrush before he chokes and slides the saliva-slick banana back out of his mouth with a wet gasp. There is a silvery thread of spit connecting his bottom lip to the end of the banana, and he stares directly in the camera as he licks it away.

This time there are actual tears in his eyes, and one slides down his cheek as he leans in to rasp out, “Did I do a good job?”

When the FaceTime notification pops up he nearly falls off the edge of the bed. There is absolutely no time to make himself look presentable or cool in any way, so he sets up the phone on the nightstand and answers with a tear-streaked face and a little bit of banana in the corner of his mouth.

Tom assumes Robert is in L.A. but it’s dark in whatever room he’s calling from, his face lit up by the soft glow of a desk lamp. A small thrill shoots up Tom’s spine at how blown his pupils are.

“What are you trying to do to me, hm?” he says, his voice quiet and half-wrecked.

“I’m just doing what you told me to… sir…”

Robert growls – actually GROWLS – and Tom feels it in every nerve of his body.

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm. Practicing.”

Tom’s always been terrible at dirty talk, and he doesn’t think he’s ever had phone sex before, but he is an actor, so he lets himself slip into the role of someone who knows what the fuck they’re doing. It’s a lot easier with a scene partner like Robert.

“Practicing… yeah, I’ll bet. Practicing for something even bigger?”

“I… I don’t know. Am I?”

Did he really just ask Robert Downey Jr. how big his dick is?

Robert smirks and bites at his plush lower lip.

“Show me your hands,” he says.

Tom furrows his brow, confused, but raises his hands up anyway.

“Perfect. Lovely, long fingers. Put them in your mouth.”

It’s an order, and an order given so confidently and almost carelessly, like he knows Tom is going to obey. It’s devastatingly attractive.

“H-how many?”

“Start with two. As deep as you can.”

He does it. He tastes faintly of banana but it’s quickly washed away down his throat as he gags on his own fingers.

“Easy, sweet thing, no rush. Work them in nice and slow, close your lips around- yes, perfect, just like that…”

Tom’s eyelids flutter closed and he just lets Robert’s words wash over him as he slides his fingers over his tongue, deeper and deeper into his throat. His teeth knock against his knuckles and he moans when he realizes they’re in as far as they can go.

“Perfect,” Robert says. “Now suck.”

A whine escapes around his fingers, unbidden, and Robert answers with a low groan. Tom hollows his cheeks and does exactly what Robert tells him. He slides his fingers back out a bit only to suck them back in, almost petting his own tongue. He tries to go a bit faster, almost fucking his own face, but the repeated motion makes him gag again and he wrenches his hand away, coughing and sputtering and wiping spit off his chin.

“S-sorry,” he gasps, more tears spilling over his cheeks.

“Oh, no, you’re doing so good, baby,” Robert reassures, “so fucking good.”

He sounds breathless, and Tom wipes at his eyes so he can see him better. Robert shifts in his chair and Tom can see his arm moving under the desk and oh holy fuck he’s jerking off, he’s jerking off right now on the phone and Tom is about to DIE.

“Lemme see,” he blurts out, his eyes desperately focused on Robert’s arm.

Robert pauses and raises an eyebrow.

“Ask nicely.”

“Please! Shit, please, please lemme see.”

“Are you sure?” His voice is more serious this time. He knows that this is a line that is about to be crossed. It’s almost sweet, in a way, that he’s concerned about getting Tom’s consent and all, but really Tom was already winding up to fucking pole vault across that line so he just nods furiously and shoves his fingers back in his mouth to whine around them again.

Robert exhales through his nose and pushes his chair back from the desk. His fly is open but his trousers and underwear are still mostly pulled up so all Tom can see is his cock. And fuck, it’s a gorgeous cock. Thick and dark in his hand, wet at the head where he’s been leaking during their little conversation, one prominent vein that is just begging to be traced with his tongue.

“There,” Robert practically coos, “is that better, sweet thing? Can you imagine this in your mouth instead of those pretty little fingers?”

“Mmhmm,” Tom answers around the digits in his mouth. God, he can practically taste it. He’s rock hard in his jeans and part of him wants to touch himself too but Robert didn’t say he could, so he settles for rubbing against the mattress as he sucks on his fingers. There’s more saliva in his mouth and it’s starting to make everything sound incredibly wet and filthy, slurping and popping and squelching, but Robert seems to love it.

“I bet you’d look so damn good on your knees in front of me… those big eyes… fuck.”

Tom shifts around on the bed so he’s facing the camera, so he can look directly into the lens. Robert’s eyes flash when he realizes what he’s doing.

“God, you’re such a good boy, aren’t you? So obedient. So eager to please.”

He nods and continues to suck on his fingers, adding in a third to stretch his lips even wider.

“You’re gonna make me come, baby,” Robert mutters. His hand is flying over his cock but his eyes are laser-focused on Tom’s mouth. “Gonna make me shoot all over that pretty face.”

Tom is fairly certain he’s never been this turned on in his entire life. He lets his fingers slip out of his mouth.

“Please, I want it,” he gasps, and opens his mouth wide, tongue out like he’s waiting to taste everything Robert is willing to give him. He looks up at him through the lens, fluttering his eyelashes and petting his tongue with his slick fingers, and Robert comes with a harsh shout. Robert comes because of him. It makes him tremble and rut against the bed and within a few seconds he’s making a mess of his own boxers like he’s a teenager again.

There’s an echo of harsh breathing for a few moments as they both ride out the aftershocks, and then Tom hears shuffling from Robert’s end. He looks back up to see him tucked under the desk again which makes him pout. He misses that dick already.

“It’s gonna be a while before we see each other again,” Robert says. He’s trying to look casual, but Tom can tell when he’s acting. God knows he’s seen it enough. “We should stop texting. You’ll forget about this by then, and I won’t feel like as much of a creep. Hopefully.”

“Or…” Tom starts.

“Or?”

“Or, we keep texting, and I keep practicing, and when I see you I won’t have forgotten ANY of this and I’ll be able to suck your brains out through your gorgeous dick.”

Robert’s eyes widen, and then he throws his head back with a ridiculous sounding guffaw of a laugh. Tom laughs too and blows a kiss to the camera when Robert’s face is back in frame. He shakes his head but mimes catching it and pressing it to his lips.

“I could be ok with that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

#rom howney #marvel rpf #tbpwrites #nff

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years

Note

I see your annabeth in tartarus alone and I raise you jason and percy in tartarus. Idk why those two would be but like imagine percy and jason both unleashing. The power. We saw potential dark percy but like jason could easily manipulate the air in the bodies cells. The nervous system has electricity in it (I think I dropped pe health biology oops) so like your whole system is fucked so yeah jason and percy just going full psycho almost ahhhh. Bruhif some1 wrote smthng like this I might cry

ANON, HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME FEEL THINGS??? Anyway obviously I had to write a lil something something because oooooo I love our boyyysss and I loovvveee it even more when our boys go dark so here have it!

Here’s the post referred to in the ask

Here’s the picture below

Masterlist

Jason Grace grinned flinging a hand out to wrap around a lean, corded arm.

"Thought you weren't gonna catch me for a sec Grace,"

"The only falling you're doing is for me Jackson,"

Percy laughed, eyes twinkling with mischief, "Save it for after we're out of this hellhole... literally."

"Oh I plan to," Jason purred.

They slammed into the ashen floor, dust and debris crunching under their feet.

"Just have to make it past this river and we're home free." Dark eyebrows creased in determination.

"I have never been so excited to get into a body of water before." The blonde shuddered.

"Hopefully I have enough strength to keep it from touching us," Percy's voice cracked.

Jason grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing softly. "We have gotten this far Pers, we will make it through. Together."

"Yea I know, I know," The half-blood shook his head, returning the reassuring squeeze.

Without letting go the two walked towards the Archeron. This crossing would be the hardest by far. The one that could end them. The river called to the miserable and who could be more miserable than two demigods who have fought their whole lives to stay alive and know they will fight even after this. The River of Woe. It was fitting that it'd be the last stop in this hellscape.

"Hello ssssweeetheartsss," A hissing started from behind them.

The demigods stiffened, clasped hands as white as sheets. Slowly they turned around, swords swinging aimlessly.

"Well well well I was starting to wonder when the dogs would bark," Percy smirked.

"Shut it ssssson of Poseidon," The thing spat.

"Hey that's no way to talk to people. Didn't your mother raise you to have some manners?" Jason chided, a gleam in his eyes.

"It will be ssssweet to kill you,"

"It'll be sweeter if you shut up," Percy snapped.

The thing smiled and it looked like dying. But what all these monsters failed to understand is that the half-bloods they faced did not fear death. The Son or Poseidon and the Child of Greece embraced it like an old friend, like a warm hug. They watched death smile and grinned back.

"Jase, I've been meaning to ask you," Percy mused, twirling his sword in his hand, "Have you figured out how to manipulate the electricity that controls our nervous system?"

Jason's eyes glittered, "Oh yea, I actually figured it out a couple of hours ago. Your blood-bending really had me thinking,"

The creature, with its serpent tail and fanged mouth, its ugly leathery wings and uneven scaled skin, glanced between them. Without warning it struck that spiked tail into Percy's side.

With a resounding clang the poisoned end bounced back, and slammed into the ground. The demigod looked up from where his now dented sword had been covering his side, green eyes glowing.

"That wasn't very nice,"

The monster let out a vile screech and pounced. Jason had a split second to bring his sword over his head before the rugged underside of this thing fell over him.

Before it could claw at the through skin and bone, the blonde was rolling onto his feet and slicing his sword into a charcoal wing. He could see Percy sawing at the other side and couldn't help the smile that graced his features. Percy's hair was curly and wild, his sea green eyes so bright they were luminescent, and the muscles in his torn shirt sleeve rippled as he worked through the wing.

The monster beneath their blades shrieked and thrashed but before long its wings were twitching on the floor. But with the pinion sliced off the demigods didn't have anything to keep it down so they were both unprepared when it swiped its tail across their legs, slamming their bodies into the ground.

With a groan Percy rolled over, "Fuck that hurt,"

"The next time I wanted us to be on our backs it involved much more fun activities than this," Jason growled.

Before either of them could get up, the heavy weight of cold, bony feet pressed them into the dirt.

"Not sssssoooo arrogant now," It cackled.

"Do you ever stop talking?" The black-haired boy sighed.

The creature hissed, claws protruding to rip out their throats, "I will kill you Percy Jac—"

It froze, eyes wide, claws stiff, sides leaking some variation of tar.

"If you ever," Jason’s voice was low, seductive with the promise of malice, "Ever threaten him again I will slaughter you so violently you will not even be remembered by history. I will scatter you so far the world will have to fold in on itself to put you back together. This is a warning."

And with that the monster contorted, limbs bending at awkward angles. It gave a disgusting shuddered, twitching and shaking, before falling to the floor and crumbling to dust.

"Damn Grace, is it weird that I am horribly turned on right now?" Percy threw a heartbreaking smile his way.

"You are such a freak, let's get out of here so I can explore it," Jason returned the smile.

"I'm holding you to that Lightning-Boi"

"Just get your ass over here so I can hold you." His voice was shaky as he held his hand out for Percy.

"Hey," The Son of Poseidon frowned, brushing golden hair back softly, "Hey, it’s okay. I'm here. I'm safe. You'd never let anything happen to me."

The blonde put a hand to his chest, feeling the steady heartbeat underneath.

"You aren't allowed to die on me. I will hunt you down and kill you again." His words were rough, stern, but the softness in his eyes melted Percy to the core.

"Only if you can promise me the same,"

The Son of Jupiter nodded, letting his forehead drop to rest against Percy's.

"Ready to cross the River of Misery?"

"One step closer," The black-haired boy sighed.

And with a final brush against a golden cheek, they intertwined their hands once more and stepped into the river that would take them home.

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dormarunt · 3 years

Note

OMG, PROMPTS! OK, SO:

15, 24 and 32 pls!

After ages and ages, here's prompt no. 24: "I'm not sure if I'm more proud or ashamed right now." Hope you like! <3 (Also on AO3) “The police have no leads, despite the incriminating footage,” the newscaster keeps as straight a face as one can, given the image displayed in the background. “The public is asked to call the number on screen in case they have any leads that can help to identify the two suspects.”

Martín is busy wiping the files in front of him, the water smudging the ink and ruining quite a few pages. He did a literal spit-take of his wine when the image showed up - first, because he didn’t expect to see their faces on the news, and second because, well— The camera that they hadn’t seen or known about had captured them fucking.

That was, for all intents and purposes, a still from their unexpected sex tape, now broadcast for all the world to see. The police surely saw all of it. Andrés looks proud when Martín finally discards the soggy papers and affords him some of his attention. “How did we miss that? The camera was nowhere on the plans, I guess it wasn’t even on the same circuit as the other cameras so when we disabled them— How did we miss it, though?” Andrés just shrugs. “Well, we were otherwise occupied. I think it’s safe to assume that that’s the best image of us that they have, since that’s what they put up. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

A valid point, but one that didn’t answer Martín’s concerns. He gets up and digs through the boxes piled up by the wall, looking for the one with the plans for the bank.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to see how we missed that!” Martín digs around until he finds the building plans and unfolds them on the floor. “Okay, so this is that hallway, and judging by the angle, I think the camera should have been right—” He looks at the schematics, flips through a few other pages underneath it too. “Yeah, there’s no indication of a camera here. Think there could be others, too?”

“Doubtful; I’m sure the police would have used any better angles if they had them.”

“True. Good thing the camera was so fucking far away, right?”

Andrés pulls out their laptop, fires up Tor and starts typing.

“I wonder if the whole thing has been leaked.”

“Yeah, good point. I’ll call Sergio, he can use his contacts to see if they can—”

“No, I meant - publicly. Like on YouTube.”

“I don’t think they allow porn on YouTube; a safer bet would be PornHub,” Martín adds, unthinking. “Or whatever porn site allows random people to upload whatever they want.”

“I think they all do.”

Martín’s eyebrow shoots up.

“Okay, we can discuss later why you’d know that; have you found anything?”

“I have.” Andrés turns the screen over and Martín huddles closer. “I believe that’s us, ‘Thieves fucking in the Credit Agricole - twink, daddy, anal, XXX’. That’s quite descriptive.”

“Twink?” He’s suddenly offended by the descriptor. “I’m in my thirties, my twink days are well behind me. How did they get the twink out of that?”

It’s a wonder they got anything at all; the camera didn’t even have infrared vision so all they had were far-away, grainy images of two silhouettes, outlined by the light coming from the open door, going at it against a wall.

“I think it’s because of this bit,” Andrés points at the exact moment when he hoisted Martín up and held him aloft, proceeding to fuck him against the wall.

“So just because you can hold my weight, you’re a daddy and I’m a twink? That’s now how this works.”

Andrés isn’t exactly paying attention to Martín’s musings; he’s captivated by the grainy video, squinting and getting closer to the screen.

“That— that right there,” he points out the smoothness with which he helps Martín back to standing - well, barely standing, the wall did most of the work there - before kneeling and blowing him until he came, an embarrassingly short time later. “We look good together, don’t you think?”

“What?”

Martín, predictably, is getting hard. It’s not just the images - which, if he’s to be honest, are still fucking hot, despite the graininess - it’s also the fact that he remembers exactly how that whole thing went. It had been a quick, heated fuck; a spur-of-the-moment thing that adrenaline ignited in them with a couple of loaded looks. One second they were emptying the vault, the next they were kissing and groping. When they got to the adjacent hallway - the one in that camera’s range - Martín had already been divested of his pants, and Andrés’ were halfway down his ass.

“I think we look really hot when we fuck,” says Andrés, replaying the video.

“Wait, I thought you wanted to watch this to see if there’s anything they can identify us by.”

“The only thing they can tell for sure from those images is that we have a very healthy libido; I’m sure we’re fine.”

“Well, at least we didn’t leave any DNA,” says Martin, shifting in his seat to accommodate his growing erection. Coming down Andrés’ throat sure helped with that, and he’d like to think that’s why he did it, and not because they were very horny and time was very short. Still, he buries his face in his hands. “I don’t know if I’m more proud or ashamed right now.”

“Why ashamed? Look at us, we look incredible! We should do this again, but— on purpose. With better lighting and better overall production value. Not for public consumption, though; I think that was the most exposure that we can afford right now.”

“Wait, so that’s what you’re proud of? Not the fact that we managed to get caught fucking on camera during a heist, and we still got away with it?”

Andrés looks at him like it’s a self-evident thing.

“Martín. It’s like you don’t even trust us.”

#berlermo #heisting under the influence (of horniness)#they would though #prompt fill

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unholyplumpprincess · 3 years

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Call Me! Xoxo

Commission for @realityinspace with their OC Alex with the new killer of Ghostface!

(Older content)

Relationship: Alex(OC)/The Ghostface

Fandom: Dead By Daylight

Warnings: NSFT/R18, Blood, threat of wound fucking, violence, typical horror themes of dbd, bondage, marking with bruises and cutting, name calling/degradation.

Words: 3.1k

___________________

There was a new killer entering the realm and all of them knew it. Once another survivor joined their fray, they were all sure of it. Yet, for multiple trials, it was the same ole’ same ole’. Killers who they’d all fought against were still there, and yet no new one.

So, the survivors all branched together and assumed that perhaps, maybe, there wouldn’t BE a new killer.

No one trained for anyone who might be new, nobody thought up new strategies for a new ability or weaponry. Devising plans against the current reign of terror from the original ones they fought against would do just fine.

Claudette and Laurie weren’t so sure. Alex had taken to listening to whatever Claudette had to say- he was sure she was the smartest person there. When she said it was a no-go to drop your guard, he believed her. And Laurie, well, Laurie had been struggling all her life against fighting one particular killer. If anyone had battle-ridden eyes, it was her.

And if she agreed to not drop your guard, Alex knew damn well not to do it.

~Rest under the cut~

After his run in with the Trapper and the infamous Michael Myers, Alex had gotten a little reputation around camp. He didn’t get hooked because he spread his legs- and honestly, a few of them said he was smart for it. It provided distraction not only for them to escape and get out, it meant the killer was distracted and the Entity would become displeased with them.

It also meant, to Alex, that they saw him as useful. An asset to the team rather than just going out and whoring himself. Who knew getting laid could have such perks?

David joked, asked how good a lay Alex was that killers were willing to take punishments for a piece of him. Claudette had worried, said that maybe another time a killer wouldn’t think twice before ending him right where he stood. Dwight, well, Dwight just wouldn’t make eye contact with him. Alex’s bad.

His survivor’s spirit still stood strong, it wasn’t Alex’s fault that changing the game was just in his nature. So, what if he just had to bend over and take it like a good boy to get out alive and well, it worked, didn’t it?

At least.

It had thus far.

The current match should have been easy. Crotus Penn Asylum was one of the familiar places to them, despite it being rather open. The thick fog and thick brush of grass made it easier to hide- especially with all the trees.

A tricky map for those who were new, but who entered the match with him were rather veterans at this point. Himself, Laurie, Dwight, and Quentin. Quentin was still one of the more anxious people, but he got the job done. As long as it wasn’t a certain killer that had his sights set on Quentin in particular that round.

There was no humming or children singing, so that ruled out two of them. No traps set around, no chainsaw revving- there was nothing.

It was eerily quiet.

Alex was working on a generator alone at the time. Carefully making sure that every wire went to where it was supposed to. It seemed like this match would be a breeze when he hears a nearby generator go off, lighting up the area in front of him.

That should have been a hint that this was going too smoothly, that he was being watched. Waiting for his gaze to go from the generator to an area in front of him.

Of course, that’s when he feels a gloved hand yank him off the generator swiftly and tug him onto a broad shoulder.

Alex’s eyes widen, not familiar with the pitch black...cloak? This guy was wearing. Nor was he someone he recognized- he didn’t even HEAR this guy come up behind him! Was it The Shape? No, too lithe to be Michael—someone new?!

“What the fuck?!” Is the perfectly intelligent thing that comes out of his mouth from shock. Immediately starting to wiggle and squirm, kicking at this guy’s chest and beating on his back. He can feel himself getting looser, watching the world shift from left to right and he’s almost there. Can feel himself slipping and-

A scream pierces through the air, one he doesn’t recognize as himself but can feel how hoarse his throat is. His eyes are huge, looking down in disbelief to a hook through his shoulder. He...He got hooked.

And then, Alex’s eyes shift to the killer in front of him and he understands why.

The new guy- the words ‘The Ghostface’ echo through his head and he knows the Entity has given this killer a name. A new champion.

He lets out a whimper in pain, reaching for the hook just as the killer tilts his head. As if amused, the Ghostface even lets out a laugh. “Wow, you were almost TOO easy to get. Man, you really let me down, kid. Thought you were a bit of a legend.”

The speaking part startled Alex enough- but being taunted? That just makes him kick out, watching the killer jerk back a step and just laugh at him as Alex groans in pain.

A sneer settles on his face as the asshole just turns around and skips off- LITERALLY skipping off! Like this was such a fun game!

Perhaps to a killer it was, to Alex, this was someone taking his pride. He feels himself growl in his chest once Ghostface is out of his sight, his spirit strong and coursing through him. He swears he sees red in anger, swinging his legs back, then forth, then one more time and managing to lift himself off the hook enough to swing to the floor. An aching tear in his shoulder and leaking blood onto his shirt and staining the white color.

He’s never been so mad in his life. Stalking the stalker as he follows where he notices the grass has been shifted, soon leading him into the actual building of the asylum.

Steam practically is pouring from him in rage, able to ignore the pain stinging his shoulder when he sees the black cloaked form seem to take note he’s no longer on the hook. Looking outside the window where Alex SHOULD have been.

He seizes the opportunity and does something never heard of.

He tackles that son of a bitch.

Running gets him enough ‘oomph’ to knock the bastard over. Hearing the clanking of a knife clatter to the floor nearby as he slams the Ghostface into the ground. That earns Alex a yelp, followed by the larger of the two to roll to try and get on top of Alex. Successfully rolling over until Alex could outstretch his fingers and snatch the shining blade, using his powerful thighs to slam the killer back to the floor and straddle his waist.

The blade in his hand is held to the throat of the Ghostface, his other shoulder screaming from pain from the wound and dripping blood down onto the killer’s nice black cloak.

“Yeah, how do you like that, huh? Not so fucking tough now.” Alex snarls down at him, pressing the sharp blade against the flesh he can see peering out from underneath the mask. He almost relishes the way the killer underneath him shudders- almost.

His mistake is letting his nature get the better of him. Because he notices just how hard this asshole was under him.

Upon sensing his shock, Ghostface bucks his hips and knocks Alex off balance. Giving him enough time to roll them over, pluck his knife from his grasp, and slam an arm into Alex’s chest to effectively pin him. Holding the knife to the corner of Alex’s lips who can practically hear the killer above him grinning.

“I like that very much. Very. Very much. Taking down a legend AND making him my bitch? Sounds just fine to me- ah, ah, ah, don’t make that face. Heard you were a great lay, like spreading your legs, huh?” His voice shouldn’t be that attractive, muffled even behind a mask. And Alex should not- should NOT be getting hard because of how he’s speaking to him. Like he was a child getting scolded for all the wrong reasons.

Man, his sexual tastes really did get fucked up the more time he spends in this realm.

Alex holds his tongue but keeps up the face. Furrowed brows and a near snarl on his face. But, he lies there. Legs open on instinct to allow Ghostface to sit between them. An arm belonging to the killer crossed over his chest and too much weight on top of him. Yet, the threat of a knife at the corner of his mouth keeps him from barking back at him.

That’s how Alex ends up tied up. Rope he didn’t see on the Ghostface being brandished. He’s humiliatingly on his knees, having kicked and hissed and put up a fuss as his lower clothing was removed. Leaving him in just his bloodied shirt and a sneer on his face.

The rope ties his arms behind his back, bound tight enough he can’t jerk from them. Tied down to his calves and ankles with an inter-looping rope and forcing his legs apart. Sat up on his knees and trying to fight back his arousal.

He sure makes the faces, sneering and huffing, jerking his head away when a gloved hand trails along his jawline and the killer calls him a ‘pretty boy’.

Alex hates when his cock jumps at the praise. Hardened and reddened at the head, shiny with pre-cum.

He hates it even more when he hears the groan of approval above him and a boot being pressed underneath his cock. Nudging at his balls and sliding the smooth boot up the length of his cock. Pre-cum collected on the leather and making it shinier than before.

There’s a pause, a shuffle, and Alex lifts his gaze up. Peering underneath his lashes as he watches the Ghostface move his cloak off to the side and fish his own hardened dick from his pants. The only hint of skin Alex would see. Tanned, flushed at the head to show just how affected he was by all of this. The foreskin allowing a peek of a generously pink, bulbous head that makes his mouth water.

He’s a decent length too, six or seven inches with a thickness about him that makes Alex’s toes curl. If this killer got off on him being bratty, so he would be if it got him a good lay. Already bondage was a good start.

Alex huffs, almost a snort when the thick cock is taken in a gloved hand. Slapping the heat of it against his cheek and leaving a sliver of pre-cum sticking to his cheekbone and connecting him to the Ghostface’s cock.

“Got a mouth on you, kid. Bet you could put it to better use, don’t you think?” Ghostface grumbles nice and low, moving his cock to rub against Alex’s lips that stay shut. Teeth clenched even if he wants to flick his tongue out, show him what he could really do.

What? Old habits died hard. You’d have a hard time too if such a pretty dick was against your mouth!

“Aww, come on baby, don’t be like that. Be nice and open up.” His voice turns to almost a sing song, and yet Alex still refuses. Even as the tempting head is revealed with a small stroke by Ghostface to his own cock. Smearing the pre-cum across Alex’s lips and making them shiny like they had lipgloss.

“Go fuck yourself- even better, suck MY dick.” Alex snarks back, turning his head to the side to make sure Ghostface couldn’t just shove his cock in his mouth mid-sentence. He feels kinda tough, puffing out his chest and feeling rather good of his grumble.

Except, well, he’s going to give up on the third try before Ghostface makes a low noise in his throat like he’s disappointed. “Ohh, well. Figured you would have preferred your mouth but...You leave me no choice.” He says, all whilst sounding like he’s disappointed with a sigh included.

Confused, Alex goes to ask what he means before his shirt is torn open further. Fingers teasing around the rim of his wound. The tear is decent from the hook, and his eyes only widen bigger when the figure in front of him moves somewhere behind him and he can feel his cock slide across the wound. The salty sting of pre-cum edging on the wound.

Oh no- no he WOULDN’T-

“Wait, wait, no don’t-” Alex whimpers out in reply, his body jerking and his head trying to whip over his shoulder to see what’s about to happen. But a handful of his hair is grabbed, forcing his head forward and down. The threat is clear.

“Aww, pretty boy ain’t so tough now, is he? ...Tell ya what, you scream for me- open that pretty mouth wide and moan and moan like the whore you are. And this-” Ghostface pauses to use two fingers to spread open the wound as if another hole to fuck as he puts emphasis to his next words. “Forbidden little hole won’t be fucked. Sound like a deal?”

Alex finds himself soon enough pushed onto his bad soon after that. Lubed up fingers from his spit fucking him open with two gloved fingers. Scissoring him open as another gloved hand strokes his cock expertly. From root to tip, twisting his wrist and squeezing the head juuuust right and making Alex’s eyes about cross.

He tries to press his ankles to the floor, fuck up into the rhythm, but Ghostface is cruel. Squeezing at his cock until he yelps and relents, falling to the floor.

Alex keeps up his end of the bargain, crying out, nails scrambling at the floor under his back. On the lower floor of this building in one of the open rooms full of windows, his voice carries. And all he can hope for at this point is that everyone takes the hint, avoiding going into the building and avoiding looking into the windows.

He’s sure he looks pretty. Bruises line up his arms where Ghostface had thrown him back down onto his back with rough hands. His lips are red from biting at them and wet from his own drool. His eyes glassy, half lidded as his face is flushed, body just as flushed and cock straining with every touch. Every whine and moan is timed juuuust right. It could have driven anyone insane.

A third finger joins the other two and he sobs out as they’re quirked upwards. Rubbing and pressing right at the spot and Alex can feel pre-cum pooling from him. Just a little more-

Of course he doesn’t get it. Forgetting his promise and having broken down to whimpers.

“Told ya to be loud.” Ghostface coos. But before Alex can beg for forgiveness, a little black ribbon is brandished from his pocket. Tying perfectly around the base of his cock and straining blood flow. A makeshift cock ring.

Alex about cries. Tears spilling over his pretty red cheeks and his hips humping up into the air. Sensitive and wanting.

That’s when he really gets it. A thick cock replacing gloved fingers. A hand around his throat, another at his hip and forcing him onto Ghostface’s dick again and again. He’s loud then as Ghostface laughs, snarling out. “That’s it baby, cry for me. Let them know who you belong to.”

Alex wails. Head thrown back in anguish and practically screaming out as hips slam into his ass again and again. Too rough, it makes him sore quickly but oh by god- or whoever is listening does he love it.

“Please! Please please- oh God let me cum- oh PLEASE, please I’ll do anything fuck please just- hhh!” Alex’s voice trails off into a low whine when a leather clad finger slides up the underside of his dick, causing the purpling flesh to throb weakly.

“Say you’re my little slut.” Ghostface murmurs back.

“What-” Alex starts weakly, shaking his head but quickly whimpers when the hand moves from his cock. Hips stilling inside of him even if Ghostface’s dick is throbbing inside of him .Fucking bastard was willing to edge himself just to hear it.

“I’m your little slut.” He starts in a murmur, shuddering weakly.

“Louder.”

Alex whimpers in reply, humiliated and weak. Squeezing around the thickness inside of him and receiving a harsh thrust in reply.

That does the trick.

“I’m your little slut!” He wails back, head thrown back as Ghostface picks up speed again. Bruising his hips with his grip, forcing Alex into the floor as his thrusting gets more and more desperate as Alex keeps wailing the words he wants to hear.

The ribbon is removed and Alex doesn’t even need to hear the command for him to cum. He’s off. Blurry eyed, broken, drooling, crying, squirming and kicking as best as he could in his bound position as he’s filled in reply. Cum drooling inside of his hole that squeezes and squeezes for more even as there’s nothing left to give.

He’s left numb, panting on the floor as Ghostface moves off him. Alex vaguely hears the click of a camera, the flash blinding him further but he can’t care.

The loud hum of the last generator goes off, followed by the gates beeping to signal it’s time to go. To escape.

Alex hardly feels the rope being cut off him. Hardly even feels being rolled onto his side.

“Damn, you were a good lay.” He hears chuckled above him. A boot nudging at his side but he only hums in reply. Broken and willing.

Alex only winces and feels something when he can feel a knife in his skin on his thigh and hip area. The blade slices easily enough, feeling warm, sticky blood leaking from whatever new wound is being made. It feels like letters, but he can hardly tell.

The walk of shame was something he was familiar with. Being laid out near the door in due time- but he isn’t even given the ability to put back on his clothes. Left in his bloody shirt stained with cum and sweat as Quentin meets him at the door, having waited for him. Good boy, Alex thinks, his eyes sleepy and thighs shaking.

Quentin’s cheeks flush and he offers his jacket to cover Alex with.

All four survive.

And later, later Alex is able to see in the broken mirror of the cabin’s shower rooms what wound was left on him.

In a sore, scabbing over wound, written into him in bright pinks and reds of his own flesh is: ‘Call me! Xoxo’ with a heart at the end.

Fuck.

#Ghostface x Oc #Ghostface #Dbd #Dead by daylight #dick by daylight #nsft #lemon #Alex (Oc)#commissions #princess writing

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deathsficbin · 3 years

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Foxiyo Week; Routine

First off, thank you @foxiyoweek for hosting Foxiyo week. It will be a lovely way to end a rather disappointing year. I’m hoping to participate in all days but knowing my schedule I’ll be lucky to manage more than one or two.

I sort of took today’s prompt a bit literally? Apparently a certain Coruscant Guard Commander sets his entire morning routine on seeing a certain Pantoran Senator. Its still what I call unpolished but I wanted it down on the day of, so I’ll fix it all up and tweak it before I post it on AO3 here in a week or so.

Rated T

Set on Ten

06:00

The alarm is sudden. Loud and jarring in the dark room.

Its one of the newer popular songs. A consistent thumping beat that grates on the nerves and sends him scurrying out of his bunk in an effort to shut it off before it becomes stuck in his head for the coming day. Thats happened before. Its not a bad song. Not exactly his taste in music but she likes it and Thorn is not afraid to use that leaked knowledge for blackmail or apparently for sneaking into rooms and resetting the alarm.

Asshole.

06:05

One of the perks to being Commander of the Coruscant Guard is a private fresher. Its not large. It can't even be boasted as acceptable in size. The sink takes four minutes to drain and the shower is always a balmy 10 degrees celsius. The drain is directly in front of the toilet so one basically has to straddle the permacrete while washing.

Its nothing like the freshers belonging to Senators but even so the boys on the frontline would be jealous.

He shaves under the spray and runs a comb through his hair before stepping out. It will need to be cut soon. He used to keep it trimmed short and tight. Perfectly up to regulation standards but she likes it longer and he likes it when she runs her fingers through it.

So longer it stays.