#got enough little pet projects at the moment | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tasteracha · 1 year

Text

professor bang

word count: 2.3k

warnings: unprotected sex, power imbalance (grad student x professor), multiple orgasms, chan calling the reader pet/good girl

synopsis: you laid out a perfectly crafted trap to seduce the hot professor - too bad he’s one step ahead of you.

the midday air is unsuspecting as you walk down the creaky hallway, floorboards of the psychology building groaning under your feet. the nerves are close to eating you up whole but you continue walking, too far into your plan to turn back now - you know what you want, and you’re going to get it. no one turns an eye as you walk past open doors, the hem of your dress swishing around your knees. they’re accustomed to seeing you here, being a graduate student in the department means you spend more time here than you do in your own apartment.

you stop at one door in a series of identical ones, only told apart by a worn out plaque listing a room number and a shinier, newer one reading “christopher bang, ph.d.” underneath it.

the door is cracked just a bit, enough for you to peer inside and there he is, standing in front of his desk, wearing a crisp white shirt under a grayish-blue blazer. his pants are too tight to be suitable for a professor, and they cling to his thighs and stretch across his ass perfectly, making you pause in the doorway with a hungry stare that lasts for too many seconds.

when you look up you meet his eyes and it makes you jump; you didn’t know that he knew you were there. this doesn’t fit in the plan.

the plan you cooked up when he got a little too cozy with you during the department holiday party last semester. the plan you’ve been making and scrapping and working yourself up to execute, avoiding him at every corner so that he wouldn’t know. you were supposed to surprise him, walk in pretending like you needed help with some assignment, getting closer and closer to him until your breaths were intermingling and then you’d look into his eyes and he would glance at your lips and-

and now he’s caught you checking him out like some kind of creep.

“oh, hi y/n,” he says, eyes turning crinkly as he looks at you with a shit-eating grin. fuck.

now that you’ve been found out, you slide inside the gap in the door, shutting it closed behind you and letting the lock click behind your back. if he notices, he doesn’t react, steady eyes trained on you as your feet take you closer and closer to his desk.

“hi professor bang,” you say, surprised by how clear your voice comes out. that’s good, you wouldn’t want him to know how nervous you are just yet, it would add to his smugness and you didn’t know if you could handle his ego being even bigger than it is right now.

“what can i do for you?” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the desk. the blazer stretches over his shoulders and the material does nothing to hide his biceps and your mouth waters. he quirks an eyebrow at you when you don’t speak for a moment, and you have to clear your throat before any sound comes out.

“i needed some help with a research project,” you say, moving close enough to him that if anyone were to walk in they would absolutely report the both of you for some kind of ethical violation. good thing you locked the door, then. “i was hoping you could be of service.”

“oh?” he leans further back into the desk, fully relaxed in a way you wish you were. “what kind of project?”

“well, it has to do with human connection,” you trail a finger across the collar of his blazer, further down until it catches on a button, in a show of false confidence. “i was looking to maybe get some hands-on experience? for research, of course.”

you feel a swell of victory when his breath catches in his throat and his arms loosen from where they were crossed to drop at his side.

“well i certainly am the expert in that domain,” he drawls, eyes flickering down to your lips and back up. “i did write my dissertation on it, after all.”

it’s a lie - you’ve read his dissertation, full of information about cognitive theory and eye movements and other things that honestly went way over your head. not a single mention of human connection was in that document, but the fact that he’s so readily playing along with you means that you didn’t misread anything. either he wants you, or he enjoys toying with you; either way, you were on board.

even more so when he takes his blazer off, throwing it off to the side like it didn’t cost him an aggressive amount of money to buy. you’ve seen the designer labels on him plenty of times enough to know he likes to treat himself to nice things.

you’re hoping you can be his next nice thing, the next possession that he flaunts and parades around.

you lean in for a kiss, but he surprises you and flips the both of you around until you’re backed up into the desk. he’s leaning over you, dark eyes looking down at you like you’re his prey.

“let’s even the playing field a bit, shall we?” his voice has gone down, low and sultry, and you feel your head loll back from how it makes you feel. he makes quick work of removing your dress, letting the material pool to the floor so he could focus on your bra. it’s your favorite one, lacey and red and sexy, the material leaving nothing to the imagination. he takes a second to admire it, fingering at the strap around your shoulder and sliding his thumb into the cup before he reaches behind you and unhooks it in one try. it joins his blazer and your dress on the floor a moment later, and you’re left feeling exposed in front of him.

“how is this even?” you ask, resisting the urge to cover yourself with your hands. “you’re still wearing all of your clothes.”

“well, sweetheart,” he starts, moving impossibly closer to you. “we’re in my office. that means i get to decide the rules, no?”

he swipes an arm across the table behind you before you can answer. papers flutter in the air, and he’s hiking you up onto the desk before they reach the ground. his hands are under your thighs, spreading them apart so he can fit between them. one of his hands snakes into the band of your underwear, your sensitive skin erupting in goosebumps from his touch.

“so wet,” he says, a smirk painting his face as his fingers part your folds to make slow circles around your clit. it shouldn’t be enough to send shivers up your spine, but it’s him, so it does.

“for you,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes. the amused glint in his eyes turns sharp, dark and possessive. just what you wanted.

“this is mine?” he asks, cupping you in his hand while his other reaches around the small of your back to hold you close to him.

“yours,” you hum, nodding even though his attention certainly wasn’t on your head.

he dips his fingers inside of you, gliding easily inside from how his fingers are coated with your juices. when he crooks his fingers and thumbs at your clit your head tips back, and you might have lost your balance if he wasn’t holding you so close that you could feel his breath on your skin.

it’s on your third time stumbling over the word professor that he leans into your ear and tells you to call him chris, his lips kissing your ear as he works you to your high. you’re shaking apart on his desk and yet he doesn’t relent, he continues to move his fingers with fervor until you can’t help but push at his chest to get him to stop.

“chris,” you stutter out when he latches his lips to your neck, open mouthed and hot as his fingers move to grab at your thighs. his hands are so big, veins bulging as he digs his fingers in. you hope there are bruises there, tomorrow. and the next day.

“gonna fuck you now, okay?” he says, voice husky. “for research.”

“yeah, research,” you breath out, using both your hands to cradle his face so that you could kiss him, finally. his lips are as soft as you imagined, plushy pillows that you could find yourself lost in for hours. he keeps his lips on yours as he moves your underwear down and off, helping you balance so he could slide it under your thighs until you’re bare in front of him. you’re unbuttoning his shirt with shaky fingers, and he chuckles against you when you can’t get one of them open.

“funny?” you break away from him, eyes trained on the way his lips are red and slick with spit.

“you’re cute,” condescension lines his voice and a spark of anger runs through you at how he knows he has the upper hand. he gently takes your hands away from his clothes and makes quick work of them himself. in what feels like a split second, he’s stripped of his shirt and pants and he’s pulling down his boxers, revealing smooth planes of muscle and strong thighs and bulging arms that you’ve fantasized about for months. you don’t know if you want to cover them in bites or let him crush you with them more - there will be time for that, the next time.

you know there’s going to be a next time if it’s already this good and he’s barely even done anything to you yet.

he spreads your thighs apart further, and you don’t miss how he licks his lips at the view of your dripping cunt in front of him before he lines himself up at your entrance. you barely got a glimpse of his cock, but your mouth waters at the idea of it being inside of you. he glides his cock through your folds a few time, slicking himself up before pressing his head inside of you.

when he bottoms out you can’t help but tighten your walls around him, helpless to the desires of your own body, and the groan he lets out makes you clench down even harder.

“relax, pet,” he says, panting a bit. his thumb strokes at the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. “i’m going to take good care of you okay? but you need to relax for me.”

he leans down to kiss you again, and it must be a good enough distraction because he begins moving in time with the swipes of his tongue on your teeth. every time he rocks into you the air punches out of your lungs, you’re so full. he moves his face to the crook of your neck to hide his own labored breaths when he increases his pace, thrusting into you faster than you can keep up with.

he’s pressing you into the desk with each movement of his hips, the sharp corner against your legs sending pricks of pain up to your head. the game is over, the research bit is done, now it’s just chris taking what he wants from you. you love it. his arms wrap around you, keeping you upright, and you latch onto him like a lifeline. you’re completely at his mercy, entirely submissive to the way he’s keeping you still so he can use you.

you can tell he’s close when he pushes his head even further into your skin, fingers gripping your back and his movements becoming sharp and purposeful. he spills into you a second later with a bite to your neck, and you can’t help yourself from following him as your head tips back in pleasure.

when he pulls out you wince, the emptiness that he’s left you with feeling worse than you’ve ever felt with anyone else. he lowers you onto the desk slowly, letting your head rest on his mousepad as he runs his hands up and down your sides in comforting sweeps. you’re utterly spent, two orgasms hitting your limit, even more intense coming from him.

“one more,” he drawls out, not showing compassion at all for the way you’re panting and drooling onto his desk. “you can do one more for me, can’t you?”

“no, no, no,” your voice comes out thready and light, barely a sound. his hand returns to your core either way, slow circles of his fingers around your clit making your body twitch with each pass. the oversensitivity is too much, but you’re too weak to pull away from him. you don’t even know if you want to, anymore.

“there’s my good girl,” he grins when you whine and rut down onto his hand. you didn’t know it was possible, but the coils in your lower belly start to tighten faster than before. you’re coming before you even realize it’s happening, pleasure seeping from your core to your fingertips, an all encompassing sensation that you can’t put words to. it lasts for what feels like forever, waves and waves of ecstasy rocking through your body until your vision blacks out for a moment.

“you did so good,” he finally stops and you press your legs together to stop him from returning. he’s pressing kisses to your body, your thighs and your stomach up to your neck and cheeks as he mumbles praises into your skin. his hand runs through your hair, pushing the sweaty locks that were stuck to your forehead out of the way so he could press a final, sweet kiss to your forehead. “so good for me. so pretty, my precious pet.”

and even as he takes care of you, cleans you up and helps you back into your clothes and feeds you water, you’re holding back a smirk. because he thinks he has the upper hand, he thinks he won, but you can guarantee that he’ll be knocking at your door before the week is over.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #bang chan smut #bang chan imagines #bang chan x female reader #chan x reader

3K notes · View notes

your-nanas-house · 5 months

Note

hi!! for your cillian requests what about jonathan crane w/ aphrodisiac :3

Hello! Sure thing, dear!!

The Conference

◇ Pairing: professor!Jonathan Crane x student fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, dark, creampie, handjob, protected and raw sex, mean and sub Jonathan, Dom and sub Y/n, dub-con. (there's a lot of things in this fic)

◇ Summary: Dr.Jonathan Crane uses an aphrodisiac on himself and his poor favourite student has to help him.

◇ Note: This really may be one of the longest fic I ever written. It's also an amazing collaboration with @mrkdvidal1989. Well..Enjoy.

Darkness enveloped his surroundings as he moved closer towards the chemistry labs. The clicking of his shoes was the only sound he could hear, his footsteps echoing through the long corridor. He moved slowly and gracefully, his every move being a careful measure in an otherwise dim location.

As he got closer to the chemistry lab, the door appeared open, lights lit up the room inside, and he wondered if his favourite student was still working.

His icy eyes moved down as his slender fingers pulled slightly up the sleeve of his suit so that he could check the time, 2:00 am he read silently before something quickly caught his attention.

There she was, in all her glory, his little pet, his favourite student, busy with her phone. All the materials and objects she had used were still scattered on the table, she was also still wearing the white lab coat even though her focus was clearly elsewhere.

Crane tutted silently, a mischievous grin stretched on his pink lips. Y/N had her back towards the door, oblivious to the fact that she wasn't alone in the lab anymore. Jonathan watched her carefully, noticing the light swaying and slumped shoulders caused by her tiredness. Perfect

After a moment he stalked closer, his perfectly polished black shoes moved soundlessly against the concrete floor without attracting her attention. Her small, fragile frame allowed him to easily peak over her shoulder, watching the compounds scattered on the table. A quick glance was enough to make him smirk again, as he recognized the familiar, violet but alluring mixture.

”So hardworking.” He suddenly spoke up right by her ear, causing her to squeak, startled. Y/N turned around, eyes wide in surprise as she put hand on her chest in an attempt to calm down her pounding heart.

”Professor Crane” She breathed out with relief, looking at him. For a moment the only sound filling the air was her deep breathing, before she straightened her back, looking up at him. ”I lost track of time and… and I'm almost finished with my project.” She explained with flushed pink, slightly ashamed that she overused his kindness staying in his lab for so long. Crane just nodded with understanding before he gestured towards the mixture, focusing back on her face.

”Have you checked the clearance?” His voice was low, serious tone echoing through the room accompanying his emotionless expression. Distracted by his face, she blinked a couple times. ”a… a clearance?” Y/N repeated foolishly, completely not knowing what he was talking about.

Did I miss something? She wondered, as the sudden wave of anxiety tightened the knot in her stomach.

”Yes. Have you checked it yet?” His blue eyes gazed into hers so intensely, that she couldn't focus properly. Shifting her weight from one leg to the other, she shook her head feeling like a child in trouble.

”N-no, I haven't.. yet.” She replied quietly, acting like she knew what he was talking about. Jonathan had a hard time restraining his laugh, but he managed to keep his poker face. Nodding along, he shifted to the side.

”Alright, go on then. Hold it up to the light and look at the consistency.” He instructed in a harsh, teacher tone. Y/n brushed a strand of hair away from her face nodding, before she grabbed the mixture, feeling her Atelophobia kicking back in.

Holding it in the right hand, she held it up to inspect what her professor requested; a visible light shaking of her limbs made Jonathan’s blank face crack for a split second, allowing the switch to a devious smile that disappeared as soon as it came. Just perfect

Almost too easy, the psychology professor thought, his focused, predatory stare remained on the back of her exposed neck, his tongue darting to escape and wet his plumpy lips. In the process of waiting for the most appropriate time to act.

Jonathan maintained his predatory stare, not letting Y/n quivering limbs or trembling form escape from his sights. It was almost as if he was savouring the buildup, knowing that the effects of the aphrodisiac as soon as it will be taking complete control over his body— such a perfect scenario to be able to take advantage of the vulnerable state his naive student will be in.

The professor felt his heartbeat quicken and his breath became heavier and shallower. It was as though he was becoming swept up in the moment as well.

”Is… is it good, Dr. Crane?” She asked in a shaky voice, standing two feet away from him, stretching her hands holding the mixture up to the light. Jonathan’s pupils widened slightly as arousal already started working in his body, adrenaline pumping in his veins.

”Closer” He commanded quietly, watching her feet as she shifted towards the lamp hanging lowly from the ceiling. ”I said closer,” His voice became more harsh, more commanding the second time, startling her visibly. Y/n took a step, and as soon as she wanted to take the other one, her shoe caught on Crane’s foot which appeared out of nowhere on her path.

A choked gasp left her mouth as she lost her balance, arms getting in the defensive position to minimise the damages in case of a fall. The little glass bottle fell out of her hand, hitting her professor in the shoulder before the content of it splashed on his neck and face, covering his skin in the weird fluid.

As soon as it made contact, his body started tingling in an almost…pleasant way. Y/n’s body froze as Jonathan inhaled deeply, Adam's apple bobbing up and down visibly on his pale neck.

Putting on his best acting skills, Crane’s face became red from the anger; despite the horrified look on her face, he fought against his amusement to keep the mask on.

Huffing with anger he shook his head, trying to get as much fluid off of him as he could or rather trying to spread it better, moving frantically and suddenly. Appearing enraged, he slowly made his plan come true. Studying psychology for long years, he knew exactly what body language put on to be convincing enough.

”Fuck!” He barked angrily, taking off the jacket with a huge stain on the shoulder. ”What the fuck did you do!” He yelled, turning to face her. His eyebrows furrowed at her frozen state, when she stood not moving, eyes teary and lips parted in shock. Crane couldn't help but notice how her hands trembled more.

Jonathan's anger turned into scolding as he continued to act mad, pretending to be absolutely furious with his poor tired student. He had to be completely convincing, for he wasn't really upset in the slightest.

"How could you be so careless?!" Jonathan asked, his voice filled with fake anger and disappointment "Don't you know how dangerous that is?! Haven't I taught you anything at all?" he added, scoffing at her still shocked self.

Jonathan could feel the strange liquid begin to seep down his skin, the sensation an eerie and disturbing one for him. His expression became neutral for a split second, before Y/N finally moved, getting his attention.

”I-I’m… I'm sorry I… I don't know what happened, I-I… I didn't mean to…” She stuttered out, trying to explain herself and her clumsiness, completely unaware of the fact that she was only a puppet in his evil psychotic show.

”It doesn't matter!” His voice boomed through her attempts of apologising properly. Y/n’s shoulders slumped, as she wanted to cover herself from shame, her body completely tense.

Her heart was beating wildly, she could already feel the familiar tingling sensation caused by the negative emotions and the guilt, which was eating her.

She was familiar with these emotions but still had difficulty mastering them, even though she had to...she didn’t want to make the situation worse with her still furious professor— risking that way to look even more pathetic as she fell into the vortex of stress that often ended in a painful and long panic attack.

Y/n wasn’t in the right situation or in the right place to give in to her fears and weakness, not even if the knot in her throat was making it pretty hard for her to breathe correctly. Focus she thought to herself, forcing her shiny eyes to snap back towards Jonathan’s face. Her nostrils slightly dilated and her jaw tightly clenched as if it would have helped her to let everything in and not show what she was actually feeling at that moment.

”I have a conference in…” He pulled his sleeve up revealing the expensive watch on his wrist, checking the time again. ”...an hour! Look what you did!” He pointed at the huge stain before scratching the itchy skin on the back of his neck. ”Fuck it starts working.” He breathed out heavily with a huff.

At this point her face became teary, her breath getting heavier, her chest tight, and Jonathan couldn't be more happy from how well his plan was going. ”You are going to take me out of that state, and better do it fucking fast, unless you want me to talk to the principal about your lack of basic skills!” He spat out harshly, looking how wheels turned in her head before she gasped quietly at the realisation that… she didn't know exactly what the antidote was.. besides… sexually relieving the victim— since she based her whole experiment on Poison Ivy’s sex pollen.

”Are you deaf?” He mocked, looking down at her with a stern facial expression, making Y/n finally snap out of her realisation; her body moving and turning back to the desk as she rummaged through the notes and components, trying to quickly find a solution as she read through her neat handwriting holding the papers with a shaky hand— her mind on the edge of panicking.

Jonathan stood behind her, watching the desperation visible through her every move, he could clearly tell that her head was running miles. Suddenly his smirk started fading as the aphrodisiac fully penetrated his skin, getting to his nerves and beginning to work its magic. His pupils widened, icy blue irises almost invisible at this point. His breathing increased, skin started sweating more as his muscles clenched and relaxed alternately, causing him to lean back on the counter.

Heavy sigh left his lips getting her attention, but she didn't dare to look at him for a longer moment. Up until he rolled his sleeves up, his veiny hand rubbed his arms, trying to relieve the stingy feeling all over his body before reaching down and rubbing up his crotch desperately, feeling the uncomfortable tension. Burning

Y/n’s eyes quickly fixed on her professor, studying his desperate state as she kept feeling guilty. Was it really her fault? She shouldn’t have worked on that project of hers in Dr. Crane’s lab and left her work-in-progress there at that hour, she should have brought it home or at least… paid more attention when her professor just tried to help her.

That’s what Jonathan wanted her to think.

The helpless expression on his face covered snugly the satisfaction in his icy, blue eyes. The poor girl, he thought, watching the worry and guilt in her gaze. He gulped loudly, panting dramatically as his pale and freckled skin flushed due to the effects of the strong aphrodisiac she….well, he spilled on himself.

A thing that he didn’t plan though, were the pretty strong and painfully annoying effects that Y/N included in the project, due to the limited knowledge about chemical compounds, not reaching the level of her brilliant professor.

Jonathan's body was on fire. All his senses seemed to heighten, and hot burning pierced his skin in places that he never felt before.

Breathing deeply he tried to slow down his racing heart, muscle pounding so fast and hard that he would be worried if not the uncontrollable thoughts; his freckled, pale skin ached for a gentle or any touch. He didn’t really care, he just wanted… no— needed Y/n on him, all over him, doing unforgivable things to his needy body.

His whole body felt tingly and numb at the same time, and he was struggling to keep his thoughts straight with all the rushing hormones— that’s when he started to move unconsciously, just when Y/n turned back towards the desk again, trying to ignore the state he was in, looking so… needy and so desperate.

The poor student didn’t even have the time to register what was happening, she just felt a tight grip on her hips and in a couple of seconds she was pressed harshly, flat against the lab table— an almost animalistic panting against the back of her neck and Jonathan’s body lying on her, nearly crushing her ribcage on that wooden surface. Her breath knocked out at the sudden action.

“Fuck” Dr. Crane grunted, grounding his hips as his hands kneaded roughly on her breasts, since he cupped them before, managing to bend her down. He felt like an animal in heat at that moment, so desperate and so blind in front of the lust that was taking over his whole body.

His hips kept moving as if following a rhythm, his cock pressing against the front of his pants in a pleasant but still painful way— his hands still groping harshly Y/n’s round chest, pressing and pulling while also kneading with need and hidden satisfaction. They are as soft as they look Crane thought in his moment of pure desperation.

”Wh-what are you doing?” Y/n squealed, pinned to the desk with his weight.

”Shhh.. I… I need it.” He moaned out, but slowly grinding on her ass wasn't enough. His angrily hard cock throbbed in his pants, relentlessly demanding immediate attention. He was getting frustrated with how little she was cooperating, and it felt like fire was blowing his veins. His skin was burning and itching as he whined lowly, dropping his head on her shoulder with a huff.

”Touch me” He hissed out, pulling her up and turning around to face him. She remained pressed against him, but her hands were still, not moving or getting near his needy, aching body. He was losing his mind. ”F…fucking please” Jonathan cried out finally, when his cock started pulsing painfully in his briefs.

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to keep her own lust and nervousness on a leash.

Rubbing her thighs together she hesitated for a moment before speaking, her voice cracking in an almost pathetic way...if Jonathan wouldn’t have been in that situation with that mindset he would have probably mocked her “P-Pull it out, Prof-”. She stopped quickly, a new battle starting inside of her head, how was she supposed to call him? She couldn’t for sure refer to him with his qualification.

Dr. Crane had other intentions apparently, he didn’t let her think much about that…too eager to have her whole attention back on him and his now leaking cock. Standing proudly against his flat stomach was a thick, long member. The veins wrapped around it stick out even more than usually, as it throbbed impatiently. Cold air was enough to make him hypersensitive as he mewled, touching the tip and spreading precum on it. Red colour of his skin revealed how much he needed the release.

At the sight Y/n jumped slightly not expecting Jonathan to be so forward, just standing there… so close to her, holding his shaft as he moved closer to her in an attempt to probably seduce her and make her finally touch him like he had begged her for. The psychology professor managed to take another step before a loud slap echoed in the quiet room, his mind too fogged to realise immediately what she did but the stingy sensation on his cheek made it clear. He could have been mad but just the contact of her bare skin against his made him whine desperately, his eyes blow out in pure need and submission. He would have done anything….literally anything to finally have his release with her help.

Y/n's breathing had become more elaborate, her body was full of adrenalin at that moment which allowed her to act instinctively and impulsively, although it was better to work through the whole situation with a clear and rational mind.

Come on, the young student yelled in her head, gulping softly as she moved her gaze slowly back down to take a peek at her professor’s cock. Do it, just do it, she repeated, nodding slightly to herself before moving her tiny hand closer to the throbbing cock, gathering the courage to grab it, but before she'd manage to do so, Jonathan pushed his hips forward impatiently, forcing her hand in the worst way.

Y/n looked up immediately, anger sizzling in her eyes at his unhinged behaviour. As soon as he tried to make her grab it again, her other hand made contact with his flushed cheek in a harsh slap. Crane’s lips parted in surprise, as he felt a drip of blood going down his chin from his lower lip.

”One more time, and I'll tie you up and leave you alone. All needy and crying” She warned with a scolding tone, Jonathan’s expression reminded her one of a kicked puppy; it was nearly distracting, his gaze so focused on her was hypnotic and the way his plumpy lips kept softly trembling was entertaining as he breathed deeply, almost like he was about to cry.

A deep breath broke the silence that had been surrounding them after the slap, the young student nodded slightly before finally letting Jonathan rest his heavy member on her open hand. Her eyes focused on the task and on the cock in front of her, she could feel it twitch every time her acrylic nails brushed against the prominent veins.

Her breath was heavier, not like Crane’s was— he was panting like an animal in heath just craving..no, needing her touch. His icy eyes staring at her hand while tears started forming in them, he could feel his stomach tightener at every second that passed. He didn’t even dare to speak, afraid to scare her or just piss her off, making her slow movements come to a stop— he couldn’t let it happen, not now that her small feminine hand was finally reaching the angry red tip of his cock.

Y/n moved her wrist, gulping softly before finally wrapping her fingers around it trying to give it a testing pump staring with wide eyes how the foreskin followed her movement, exposing more the leaking tip “Shit” Jonathan cursed in a hiss, letting out a choked sob before ordering her with a shaking voice “Spit on it, you little slut”.

The poor man was feeling the effects of the aphrodisiac more and more, he could feel them crawl all over his body making it difficult for him to breath normally or think straight, a thin layer of sweat was already covering his flushed skin.

Her professor’s hand snatched hers, motiving it quickly closer to his handsome face as if he wanted to kiss it, ending up spitting on her palm catching completely off guard; her pretty face slowly twisted in a grimace of uncomfortable disgust.

After a couple of seconds passed… where she didn’t do nothing, Jonathan bad temper snapped again, his mean part coming out “Fuckin’ touch it already!” he screamed in her face, catching her off guard for the second time in a row, his hips moving forward as his hand held her smaller one wrapped back around his length. His hips established a rhythm to relieve his pain…his free hand flying to cup her breast after nearly ripping off the lab coat she had still tidily on. How long is it going to last?

Consequently Jonathan's outburst, Y/n allowed him to continue to seek the pleasure he so badly needed, an expression of disgust still present on her face. His panting was quite disturbing now, she could feel the warmth of it and of his whole body that clearly looked like it was on fire and it kind of worried her. All her fault, that’s all your fault, she kept repeating to herself as she tried to find a solution… a way to help the man that was standing in front of her, moaning like a pornstar just for her.

“O-Okay, Dr. Crane I-I….” she started, her voice shaking softly as she tried to speak with him— but he wasn’t listening at all, too busy in the activity he was engaged with. Y/n’s heart pounded, the unusual and somehow odd situation causing adrenaline to rush through her veins. She was lost in how to properly handle the situation, but one glance at him was enough to decide. Anger and desperation was filling his icy gaze, eyes cloudy and focused on his cock as she stroked it. Annoyance appeared in her mind at how easily influenced she was for him, as she huffed with anger.

You want me to touch you? I fucking will then, she thought, as her hand gripped his manhood harder, stroking it harsher as the other hand rested on his chest.

Jonathan felt almost deaf, his heart beating so fast and hard that it could be heard from any part of his body…he was feeling like on a rollercoaster, adrenaline rushing and filling his slender self.

As soon as Y/n started to feel Jonathan’s grip on her hand become less tighter, freeing her caged hand, she removed it completely in a quick motion. Feeling it, Jonathan's head lolled back with a high pitched, desperate groan. A choked cry pushed past his lips at the lack of stimulation. He didn't expect her to do it, his lips parted as he tried to breathe but his lungs burned, just like his skin that started heating up and itching again. His legs started shaking as a couple tears streamed down his face, but Y/n wasn’t as fazed by his state anymore, and she just wiped her palm on his white shirt, not really caring that he had an important meeting in just… thirty minutes.

“Strip” the young woman ordered with a simple word, not adding anything else. Her expression was stern and kind of pissed, she was tired and this was taking too long for her. She was also ready to take any decision or precaution to be able to get over this.

“I said fucking strip, you brainless slut” the student repeated, raising her voice just like Jonathan had done earlier, screaming at him the respect that was pulling her back now completely gone. There was still nervousness in her body, she was shaking a bit because of the different emotions present. To her surprise Dr. Crane started to take off his expensive suit, replying to her stern tone and insult with a pathetic whine… she could have kicked him in the face at that moment and he would have just licked her sole, whimpering and shaking for her.

As Jonathan peeled all the fabric off his body, watching it drop on the floor, the cold air hit his overwarm body, his nipples erect just like his hair which were standing due to the shiver and the goosebumps, Y/n couldn’t stop watching him move like a puppet.

Her hands moved on their own, resting on his warm, pale and freckled chest… caressing in slow motions his skin as her eyes moved slowly across his naked self— it felt nice, it relieved the burning and stingy sensation Jonathan kept feeling but it wasn’t enough. Just when he was about to say something, to plead, whine and whimper, she used all her strength to push him away from her.

His body stumbled, hitting the nearest object that was right behind him which happened to be a chair… a iron, cold tiny chair that made him hiss as soon his skin made contact with it completely. His hairy pale thighs spread open, twitching due to the coldness of the surface, just like his back that arched in such a pathetic way.

“Fucking told you that I would have tied you down, you wasted your second chance, Dr. Crane” Y/n warned him, murmuring mostly to herself as she started to tie down his limbs, making sure to make a tight knot so that he really couldn't move without her wanting him to.

His heart kept racing, his body was in such a state that it just kept leaning towards Y/n’s every time she moved slightly closer as she fixed the ropes.

The young woman took a step back, admiring silently the desperate and subby state Crane had fallen in, his mouth open as he panted like a wild animal, his body trembling softly as his cock kept twitching and aching for relief.

She took a step forward this time, Jonathan’s eyes fixed on her as his head remained hanging low, he couldn’t tell what she was doing by all that wiggling but he discovered soon since he found himself with her wet thong in his mouth, his spit wetting it even more. She was bare, she was finally bare under the skirt she had on, he thought… his body still and tensed, too afraid to even move a muscle.

Her hands rested on his shoulders, her smaller body towering over his sitting position. Her finger interwoven with his black locks, he could feel her acrylic nails massage teasingly his scalp— it was gentle and carrying.. before she got a better hold on his hair and pulled at them harshly.

“Don’t come too fast, because I won't stop until I finish, got it?” his favourite student warned as she carefully straddled him, her bare wet pussy now pressing against his throbbing leg.

Earning just a choked moan from Crane she started to grind slowly on it, pressing her body closer to his to find the right angle were her clit would have been touched correctly. Their eyes remained locked all the time, even if Jonathan kept occasionally rolling his eyes back because of the pleasure, his gathering spit slowly dripping down on his chest.

Condoms, Y/n thought quickly, her eyes growing wide as her breath increased “Do you have a condom?” she asked, knowing well that he couldn’t really reply to her with the cloth stuck in his mouth— his eyes just moved, following her movements as she decided to turn around, now her round cheeks gifted him with some relief as she grabbed his pants and started searching for anything there. Condoms, pills, some kind of protection. Finding just a tiny bottle of lube with his initials on it.

“Oh, you pervert. Bet you use it to jerk yourself of” she mocked, moving back in the straddling position, her hands following the form of his nose, down to his plumpy lips “Guess no relief then, huh” she murmured, watching him carefully. She sure found Dr. Crane attractive and she would have lied if she said that she never had impure thoughts on him or just a need to try and feel how his lips tasted. She could now.

Her eyes remained on his open lips for a couple of seconds before she leaned in, removing harshly her thong from his mouth, earning a meowing sound from Crane, which died down as soon as her lips pressed against his.

Her tongue entered his mouth easily, making them entwine into a deep and sensual dance, exploring each other's mouths and teasing with delight. Their bodies were more pressed up against each other, her soft hands remained wrapped around his neck to feel his Adam apple bobbing as he gulped.

In that moment of pure passion, something fell from the pocket of her blouse, dropping right on Jonathan’s lower stomach “Guess you have luck by your side today, Professor” Y/n praised as soon as she broke the kiss, watching their split still link them in a hot and sensual way. She moved her hands from his neck and grabbed the condom she had in her pocket without knowing…using her teeth to slowly open it while she grinded her hips against his.

The thong went back in Dr. Crane’s mouth as she stood back up to roll carefully the condom on his thick, long length, watching it wrap perfectly around his size “There we go” she whispered, using the lube she had found to prepare herself before finally sink down in a quick motion on his cock, her tight warm pussy clenching around him like a tight fit. Crane's head dropped down with a hiss at the tight squeeze, just like his jaw, the sensation that came so quick didn't let him time even try and control his imminent first orgasm. It was cruel, mean but Y/n was enjoying every part of it.

She didn't know how Jonathan managed to not shoot his load, filling up the condom, and signing that way the ending of that all. But he managed, so Y/n started to roll her hips slowly before increasing the speed to hear the pathetic sounds coming out of Crane's bruised mouth. He was moaning with each move, whining whenever she'd squeeze him too hard, or sink her nails in his skin.

She was bouncing, riding him as if he was a wild horse, her thighs pressed against each of his thighs, holding him down while she searched her own peak… not really carrying anymore of Jonathan's state.

”I honestly didn’t expect you to be that big” His student praised with a veiled insult, hissing into his ear. He wasn't even able to respond as the next deep stroke pushed him over the edge, as he cried out pulsing between her velvet-like walls. His hands thrashed, tied up, as the need to grab her hips while he'd fill the condom up with his hot cum. Y/n didn't care, and she kept moving over and over, chasing her own high with head tilted back as the pleasure fully consumed her mind and body. She wasn't even aware of the pace as she kept milking him despite his whiny cries, moving violently on his hypersensitive cock.

”F-fuck” He spat out, his voice still muffled, saliva dripping down his chin when his eyes rolled into the back of his head. More curses followed after the first that slipped from his lips, his body shaking uncontrollably as he felt the pleasure bult itself in his lower stomach. It was driving violently and forcefully like a train, about to go off the rails and hit him with all his force. The condom being filled for the second time by his seed, she kept going just like his load that kept being spilled without a stop. The amount of cum he could pump just minutes apart would usually impress her, if she wasn't so long gone in the maddening pleasure that his thick girth provided, stretching her out and pushing his way to her g spot with each thrust.

The pleasure he was giving her was making her slowly reach her own climax, turning her head in a foggy and drunk state of mind when she squeezed her eyes shut, as her cunt clenched down on his member, making it impossible to thrust despite the overflowing fluids splashing between them as she reached her peak, shaking and crying out as her muscles gone fully numb for a moment from the powerful orgasm that made her nearly squirt.

Only then did she realise that Crane was cumming as well, again, and she wouldn't care a bit, if it wasn't for the… thick, sticky fluid dripping down her thigh. Y/n’s eyes widened at the sensation, and she jumped off of him faster than she would ever anticipate, earning a loud strucked whimper from her professor.

“Look at what you did!” she yelled, a bit panicked from the situation she was in, his seed still dripping down her thighs even when she tried to push it out. Staring at his engorged cock, that was still twitching. Red and wet, laying on his thigh even though it was still very much hard. The condom that she previously put on him, now with a giant hole, halfway down his dick.

The role switched, now Crane was the one with tearful eyes and she was the one furious with him. What was she supposed to do? She thought to herself, cleaning her dripping pussy with the nearest cloth before meeting Jonathan’s icy eyes. He caused it… so it was only fair that he found a solution to that, just like she did earlier for her mistake.

After a deep breath the student moved closer to her professor, freeing him from his restrictions which made his pale freckled skin a bit sore and bruised, just before taking a step back “You need to find a solution for the mess yo—” she stopped mid sentence with a gasp, and his big slender hands grabbed her roughly, pushing her towards the white table.

He didn't hesitate, and his moves weren't thoroughly measured or rational, like his usual way to think and act. He was an.. animal with a fire in his baby blue eyes, as he smashed her down onto the desk, dropping test tubes and vials onto the ground.

Bent in half, Y/n couldn't do much besides reaching back to push him away in desperation, but it didn't help much as he twisted her arm, pushing it down while kicking her legs open, relentless in his motives.

”Shut up” He hissed out while reaching down to her heat, pushing his two fingers in as he checked how wet she was. Feeling his own cum leaking out of her, he grinned in the mischievous way, feeling how his veins were still on fire.

Pushing her head down into the desk, he kept her quiet while his big hand tangled into her soft hair. Without any further notice, he lined up the pulsing tip of his hard cock with her tight pussy, groaning loudly at the choked gasp that pushed past her lips as he filled her up.

”N-no!” She squealed while wiggling her hips to the side, struggling but still attempting to get away from him. ”I’m not on the pill!”

Crane's hand fell near her face, patting it mockingly before he shoved two fingers into her mouth, silencing her successfully.

”Shhhhh” He cooed with a grin, before he snapped his hips forwards making her cry out with him as his fat cock hit her cervix suddenly. She stopped moving as soon as the pain set in, and seeing it, Crane repeated his move laughing out when she squealed. The aphrodisiac was slowly wearing out, and he was more than happy to give her a lesson for teasing him.

“Fuckin’ take it” Jonathan murmured breathless, pressing his body against her back to keep her still while thrusting again before shooting more inside of her cunt, still moving as he groaned, biting her shoulder as he pumped some more of his semen into her.

Her body moved almost automatically as she hit his ribs with her elbow, catching him off guard and that way free herself a bit… enough that she could turn around to face him fully, her hand flying towards his face, slapping him across the face with the back of her hand. It didn’t really go like she was expecting, Jonathan just answered with a lustful moan and his hand moved roughly to her neck, taking a hold of it. Just resting at the beginning, as his pace picked up on a speed, his long fingers wrapped around her slim throat, squeezing it as he cut off the airflow while his hips slammed wildly against hers, leaving red marks. Her own hands kept fighting him as best she could, till the pace increased, allowing her just to scratch, claw and dig her fingernails in his pale skin, her eyes rolling back as his fat cock kept abusing her sweet spots without any kind of mercy.

They both were panting, their heartbeat beating like crazy in their chests and they both could hear it since Crane leaned closer, resting his sticky sweaty forehead against hers, breathing with his mouth against her lips— leaning roughly down a couple of seconds later to claim a feverish kiss. He stole Y/n’s much needed air and made her squirm more, even though she reciprocated the kiss, biting down harshly on his bottom lip drawing blood from it, which wet her own lips before dropping a bit on her flushed face as soon as Jonathan leaned back with a desperate whimper of pure, raw lust.

”Going to… to cum” He breathed out, his tone was back to the low one, filled with authority and dominance almost the same as the one he used during his lectures. If she could, she'd roll her eyes at the way he was back to being a cocky, commanding bastard... if it wasn't for the massive cock splitting her nearly in half. Her right hand moved away from him, diving down where they were connected to gather some of their arousal and rub her clit in quick motion, increasing the speed just in time. Her pussy clenched around his cock as her body spasmed softly because of the orgasm that just hit her whole body, she could feel Jonathan’s seminal fluid spill out of her cunt and slowly down on her ass and lab table.

It all stilled, their breathing was the only noise in that empty room “Y-Yo…Your conference, Dr. C-Crane” she reminded him breathless as she held back loud sobs caused by the pleasure and all the emotions that filled her smaller body.

Breathing deeply, he leaned back while running a hand through his hair as he chuckled.

”Right. The Conference.”

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj @wife-of-magic-monkeys, @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher, @sleepycreativewriter , @mrkdvidal1989

#jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane oneshot #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane cillian murphy #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x y/n #jonathan crane x you #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy #cillian fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader

849 notes · View notes

bhaalble · 6 months

Text

Back on my Wyll script doctor because I was talking about it with a friend. Specifically imagining a version of Wyll's big Character Choice that felt like it had some actual teeth.

Imagine a world where instead of a cartoon evil hot lady Mizora and Wyll's relationship actually had some complexity to it and like. some genuine push and pull which gives him temptation to stay. I just keep thinking about this 17 year old who his whole life wanted more than anything to be a hero, who got his chance to do something heroic and selfless and save the city from certain doom, and his reward is getting kicked out because he did it the "wrong way".

Imagine if instead of forcing his silence, Mizora instead comforted him. How unbelievably cruel of your father! Well...since you've nowhere else to go, why not stick with me? We make a pretty good team, as it turns out, and I can get you a whole list of monsters who need killing. Plenty of devils and demons loose in your world targetting all sorts of innocents. Our interests can keep aligning, and you get a place to sleep when you need it.

Wyll makes his peace with it, because he has nothing and no one. And Mizora's not GOOD maybe, not by Ulder Ravengard's definition. But she's fun. She delights in his growth. And she does certainly keep direct him at greater evils, devils who really do need killing. And if she spies on his every waking moment, well, she worries. If she sends him after the occasional innocent, well, she had people who she has to answer to as well. She's a devil, how much can he fault her for her nature? She's always seemed like she knew where the line was...

Karlach (and the player) express their doubts, of course, but for act one at least he's defensive. Yes, she punished him and he hates it and its miserable but....he was in breach of contract! She's NEVER gone outside its bounds, she's always stuck very closely to their agreement. Wyll, who wants so badly to trust others and believe everyone has the chance for good, can't find it in him to believe the worst even of a devil.

And Mizora is FOND of Wyll, loves him even in her way. As a cherished pet, as a trusted tool, as a best-laid plan. Never enough to choose his own well-being over her own agenda, never enough to see him as his own person. He's her little project, the long shot noble brat she gambled on when Tiamat decided to get too big for her britches. And it paid off! Wyll always pays off, currying her all the favor from Zariel she so desperately craves. And who are you, or anyone, to come between them? She's treated him well. As she's quick to remind him, she wanted him when no one else did, aided him while the rest of his city slept snug in their beds. And if Ulder Ravengard didn't want a son with a whiff of infernal, then do you REALLY think he'd want you with lovely horns and Avernus in your blood?

You discover his father's been taken. Beyond igniting a lot of old feelings, it brings up a question of succession. Of course, Florrick isnt giving up on him, but if not...there aren't currently any likely candidates to take over the Flaming Fists. Not trustworthy ones. Florrick will take the position, but everyone knows in the back of his mind Ulder never really stopped planning for it to be Wyll. With the city in chaos and a cult army on the rise, they may need an answer sooner rather than later. Wyll feels the call of the Gate, but knows just as well that Mizora wouldn't want him to return in such an official capacity.

For the first time ever the leash starts to chafe in a way he can't keep pushing through.

Act 2 rolls around. Mizora sends up the Warlock signal. After potentially some encouragement from the player, Wyll (NOT THE PLAYER. I DONT KNOW WHY ITS THE PLAYER IN THE GAME ITS WEIRD) hesitantly proposes that maybe, if he does this....they can do a renegotiation of his contract. Not break it, he assures her quickly! Just....reopen the terms, take a looks at the agreement. Maybe discuss an exit ramp? After all....I mean, neither of us truly thought I'd be doing this forever, did we?

Based on Mizora's reaction. Yeah she did.

But fine. She agrees. And Wyll's not mad that it turns out you're rescuing her, not a nameless "operative" for Zariel. He would've done that on his own had she asked. Its the fact that she apparently didn't feel like being honest, that she let him fret and worry about potentially handing Zariel back some runaway for basically no reason. Its the fact that she came here to check in on the cult that abducted his FATHER just to see if Zariel could make any use of them. And its the fact that she seems surprised and annoyed that ANY of this bothers him.

All this builds, of course, to the final confrontation. The basic elements are the same. Mizora outside the coronation (this time needling at Wyll, "I'll be at camp if you're not too high and mighty to consort with the likes of me anymore"), Ulder tadpoled and fighting it. Mizora makes her offer. I can end the contract now, and you're free to go running after daddy (who won't want you btw! not like I do!). You'll lose all your powers, all my aid, all those juicy quests to chase down the greatest monsters in the hells. Take on your father's job and settle in for a life of misery and compromise and only doing as much good as the nobles will let you. Or: pledge yourself to me, eternally. I'll give you a boatload of new powers and eternal life to boot, so long as you serve as my sword and shield.

From there I think three endings branch out, and with it three classes for Wyll. If he stays with Mizora, accepts a relationship where he will never be an equal or a free agent in exchange for the affirmation he wants so badly from his father, he remains a Warlock, with some juiced stats and extra spell slots, along with shiny new gear. If he pledges to follow in his father's footsteps, he instead becomes an Oath of Devotion paladin, pledging himself in service to Tyr, if with a sense of doomed finality. The Blade of Frontiers is officially retired, and along with it any identity he has outside of being his father's son. Or the third path, break the contract without taking his father's role. He will look for his father, yes, but whether or not you find him he's going back to his roots, travelling around to do some good in the world (as the Blade of Frontiers) or kicking ass in the Hells with Karlach (as the Blade of Avernus). In this timeline he becomes a fighter, with a default preference for Eldritch Knight.

What's important: if he breaks his contract then Mizora is NOT hanging around camp. She will leave in a fury, accidentally bound by her own word to withdraw her influence completely if he breaks his contract. She may still approach the player some night to sleep with the player, framed for high approval/romanced players and her trying to take something back from Wyll. But Wyll will have to learn how to define himself without her breathing down his neck, without keeping her happy dominating his every thought. Its nervewracking, and even lonesome at times...but its freedom. And, perhaps, that's worth a little bit of lonesomeness.

#long post #again i want to be clear because i think wyll fans are a little understandably defensive of him #this is not about wanting wyll to be a bad person #its about wanting him to have an arc that parallels the rest of the companions #and be more firmly centered on HIS feelings and choices #ive done my best to preserve wylls canon temperament here #just give the circumstances more teeeth #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #wyll ravengard #mizora #ulder ravengard

1K notes · View notes

angelcqre · 5 months

Text

It wasn’t supposed to happen.

The car accident least of all. His gaze is on you, intense and scathing, watching you as you struggle to not break down in tears. He knows you can’t afford the damage to your own car, much less his, and for a moment, he simply.. watches, lips twisted in wry amusement as he approaches you.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry, I didn’t see you, I’m so sorry I’m-;”

He cuts you off before you can blubber any further onto him, his voice soft and low and amused.

“Sweetheart, relax,” His lips quirk up, and it’s then that you realize that this is Bruce *fucking* Wayne, billionaire recluse who’s hand in philanthropy is beginning to show in the recovering ashes of the riddler’s attack on Gotham. “I’ll take care of it. Are you hurt?”

His hands are steady as they tilt your chin upwards, his eyes searching and intense and dark even now, but the smile that he offers you is comforting enough, thumb shifting to brush a stray tear off your cheek.

Your skin is soft.

It’s the first thing he notices - sure, it had looked soft enough from afar, but under his calloused fingertips, your hands are like silk, sheer heaven and for a moment, he considers keeping you, considers taking you home right here and now, but instead, he sets his gaze on the car behind you, already battered and the accident hasn’t helped. It was your fault, he knows this, and just as much, he knows you won’t be able to fix it.

“What’s your name?”

You babble out your name, trembling hands moving to cup his wrists, the stability that he exudes enough to be infectious, and when he hears it, it’s like music to his ears, his heart lurching in a sensation of simple

There you are.

“It’s nice to meet you, sweetheart. I’m Bruce,”

You know. Of course you know, however reclusive he is, his face is plastered over the news constantly, especially now that he’s got his finger in the pie that is Gotham’s premier charities, bankrolled almost entirely by the Wayne foundation.

He decides, then and there, that you’ll do nicely as a pet project. Still wiping at your tears, he leans in, tall frame curling in to meet yours, shifting his expression to be as reassuring as possible. He’s not.. socially adept, not as much as he should be, but he knows this one, awkward as it is.

“I’ll get this taken care of. Don’t worry. Why don’t you get lunch with me in the meantime?,”

Already, he’s got Alfred sending tow trucks, scheduling mechanics, ordering parts. It’s not difficult for him to recognize the make of your car, the model, the year, and that’s sent off too, a flick of his wrist and a murmur into his earpiece.

You nod - of course you do, it’s not like you have any choice in the matter, and you’re whisked off to The Ocelot, corner table, assured that the ratty jeans and top he’s sure was ordered off of Amazon or SHEIN or whatever the fuck else are fine for the restaurant, love, you’re with him and it’s not like The Ocelot serves lunch anyways.

They do. Any reservations have been rescheduled, so it’s just you and him in there anyways, and it’s hardly like you’d know the difference either way.

So he sits, and he listens, watches the way your lips part to form each lovely syllable, growing more animated and less despondent when you realize that no, this isn’t a trick, that he really is going to take care of it and not sue you.

All in all, he really seems like a nice guy. Quiet, but he’s got a good sense of humor, and you like the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. At least, you tell him so, a little tipsy on the most expensive bottle of wine you’ve ever had the privilege to drink, full of food that he insisted on ordering for you if only to let you try the best things on the menu.

So when he offers to drop you off at your apartment, you enthusiastically agree to it, not realizing that he’s taking note of the building, the door number, the sound your lock makes as the key slots into the mechanism.

From then, you.. begin to date Billionaire Philanthropist Bruce Wayne. He’s perfectly nice, respectful and polite and honestly more than a little old fashioned, and maybe you like that, the way he insists on opening car doors for you, the way that he sends you clothing and jewelry and purses to bring along any time he invites you out.

Every invitation to a gala or charity ball is extended to you, if only for the opportunity to dress you up like a little doll, put you in expensive clothing and jewelry and coo at you, murmuring praise against the curve of your neck every time he ducks from the view of the cameras that always seem to follow him.

Nothing is too expensive for him, and though you do attempt to protest, he seems gleeful in his gifts to you, the urge to shower you with presents to endear himself to you only hampered by Alfred’s firm guidance on ‘proper courting’.

He.. rarely calls you by your name.

Always pet names, with him, always terms of endearment and suggestions of possession that you end up finding yourself flushing at, the nigh reverence in his tone enough to leave you leaning into him and pressing sweet, loving kisses to his cheek and jawline.

You’re untouched by the corruption that seems to seep into every crevice that Gotham’s foundations. Pure, in a way, so sweet and kind and good that he can’t help but want to protect you, finds himself going out of his way as the bat to ensure you get home safely from work.

Fuck, and maybe he breaks into your apartment once or twice, purely investigative, nothing perverse, he tells himself, inspecting a pair of panties that he really has no business touching. The sense of growing discomfort in his nether regions are enough of an excuse that he strips then and there, pumps his cock on your bed surrounded by the scent of you, imagining you on top of him, under him, gasping his name and begging to be filled and looking at him with dewy, glazed over, lust filled eyes.

He swears it’s not perverse.

Swears to *god* as he cums into another pair of panties, a pair he knows for sure he’s bought for you, and tucks them neatly back into your underwear drawer, shoving the first pair into a pouch in his belt.

Absolutely justifiable losses.

You’re so oblivious to it.

That’s what gets him more than anything else - how oblivious you are, how clueless you are to how many robberies he stops in their tracks, each interception before you’re targeted enough that you genuinely think that the city is getting safer, better.

You tell him about it over lunch, pointing at him with your fork, mouth half full of salad, and your manners are atrocious but he can’t help the way it makes him chuckle, dark eyes crinkling with warmth.

“I’m serious! I don’t - okay, look, vigilantes are bad, but like..,” A pause, for you to actually swallow, outrage flashing in your eyes as he delves into straight up laughter. “I don’t know! Maybe this guy - Batman, or whatever - maybe he’s doing something good for the city,”

He can only shrug in response - keeping his fantasies of you private and locked down.

And, really, the stalking keeping an eye on you comes in handy, inevitably, especially with how you tend to prefer walking home to anything actually sensical. He’d offered you a car to borrow while yours is being repaired, but you’d seemed hesitant with the expensive make, had smiled and said that your job wasn’t that far away, really, and it’s not as if you aren’t familiar with gotham - you’ve lived here for years, and you’ve been just fine.

It’s just a joyboy - nobody especially powerful, but his heart still wrenches all the same when he sees the gun aimed at your head, and he can’t stop himself from dropping on top of the aggressor, beating him to a bloody pulp and then some, his vision white with with rage and a level of possessiveness that he can’t quite comprehend.

All that’s running through his head is a pervasive sense of drive, a need to keep himself from losing anybody else, so when the man under him finally collapses, and he leans back to look at you, it takes a moment for his senses to settle back in, for the blood rushing through his ears to lower from the roar.

He realizes you’re speaking, babbling in the same way you did when he first met you, and the memory is enough to bring a wry twist of his lips, amusement flashing in those dark, masked eyes.

“And I was just walking - I’m sorry, are you hurt? Did he hurt you? Oh my god, are you bleeding?,”

There isn’t any fear in your eyes, but your eyes are glued to the gun in the perp’s hand, the smoke rising off of it, and he idly realizes that he must have fired it in the fall.

The bat rises, that twist of his lips compelling and familiar, and strides towards you, assessing you with a familiar sort of scrutiny.

You’re bleeding.

“Relax, I’ll take care of it. Are you hurt?”

He sees the recognition in your eyes the second it lights up and knows he’s made a mistake. Sure, you’re not as smart as he is, very few people are, but you’re not stupid, and that mistake causes his breath to catch in his throat as your lips part, a strangled sort of bark of laughter coming from you.

“That’s funny - you sounded just like my boyfriend just then. Isn’t that.. funny..?,”

You look like you’re about to bolt. The bat sees the tensing of your muscles and takes a step forward before you can, his hand stabbing out to grasp at your arm. He’s erred, he’s erred *bad*, and the little gasp of pain that you make is just another tally in the ever increasing lineup.

“Bruce?,”

And now you’ve gone and done it, and the fear you’re experiencing is genuine, the wobble in your voice and the suddenly glassy eyes evidence enough that there’s no going back from this.

The strike to the side of your throat is an instinctual one, the edge of his hand snapping out quick enough that you don’t even flinch, falling unconscious and right into his awaiting arms. It’s reverent, how he carries you, though he doubts you’ll ever notice with how hard you’re out.

That deep, deep sleep is a gift for Bruce. He hasn’t - he won’t - take you, but that refusal doesn’t extend to certain other courtesies. You’re ignorant of the way his hands slide up the skin of your torso, ignorant of the cold sensation of his fingertips against your warm body, ignorant of how he pulls off the worn tee first.

It’s reverence, the way his tongue laves over the hollow of your throat, the way each kiss is pressed onto the edge of your jaw, his eyes half lidded and his gaze glued to you. Careful, so careful - you’re delicate, after all - but still, his fingers press into your hips, savoring the plush yield of your curves.

Already, he’s fantasizing it, breeding you and filling you with heirs,

You wake up slowly, at first, and then all at once, unaware of your surroundings and clearly more than a little out of it. Bruce has deigned to leave you alone, for this part, and he watches you through one of the cameras he’s embedded in the room you’re in, studies the way your eyes seem glued shut, the way you almost turn over and fall back asleep.

And then you realize that you’re not in your own bed, and you’re a bit more dedicate to getting up.

It’s a lot more luxurious than you’re used to, and it’s also definitely *not* your bedroom. The sheets aren’t yours, don’t smell familiar, the walls and the curtains are a different color, and the room in and of itself is too damn big - you could probably fit your entire apartment in the square footage, to say nothing of the en-suite that you’re already peering at.

No, focus.

You strip off the comforters, realizing with horror that you’re not even wearing your own clothing, some designer loungewear and nothing underneath. You fight the urge to scream, running your hand through your hair, and stride towards the closed door, heavy oak and thick.

Locked. Doesn’t budge no matter how you wiggle it, not even under the entirety of your weight. No matter what you do, pounding, shouting, slamming, it doesn’t open. You even try running at it, like they do on TV, and that mostly just gives you a sore shoulder and knocks the wind out of you.

So… you investigate the room. Maybe you should’ve done that first, but the panic rushing through your veins has subsided, led to a sort of clarity that has you checking the windows, realizing they’re reinforced - definitely not glass, you realize after you’ve attempted to shatter it. Not like it’d matter, there’s wrought iron bars over each of them, way too thinly placed for you to even think of slipping out.

The room is.. nice, even if there’s a genuine discomfort in being locked in them. Plush carpet under your bare feet, a television, an en-suite bathroom.. you can almost imagine that you’re in some swanky hotel with Bruce, almost fool yourself into the perception that you’re definitely not on the verge of, like, death or disembowelment or whatever the plans for you are. There’s even a bookshelf, stacked high with classics and.. quite a few raunchy romance novels, all almost thirty years old and scrawled with the name ‘Martha’.

You end up settling on a book of old myths, curling up in the bed, and by the time that you’ve read a good couple, you’ve suitably calmed down, and that’s when he makes his entrance.

“Sweetheart,”

The sound of your boyfriend’s voice isn’t quite comforting enough that you don’t throw the book in your hand at his head, and when he catches it, you wince, shrinking back into the pile of pillows as he carefully, carefully moves towards you.

“Bruce? I don’t - where *am* I? What’s going on?,”

He hushes you, draws you into those deceptively strong arms and holds you, pressing his lips to the top of your head, and instinctively, you relax into his grasp, muscle memory powerful enough to override the pounding of your own heartbeat in your ears. You huff, and lean into him, soothed for a moment. He speaks, then, always so patient, so tender, his hand reaching up to pet at your hair.

“It was always a risk, letting you run around gotham like I did, but I thought I could protect you.”

You stiffen.

He continues to pet you, his voice soft against the crown of your head, low and worn in the way it always is.

“This city is corrupt, sweetheart, and I need to know you’ll be safe,”

You try to draw back, but the cage of his arms is steel, and he holds you close to him, chest to chest, his hands cold.

“So I’ll keep you here. With me.”

#Bruce Wayne x reader #yandere bruce Wayne #yandere Batman #yandere Batman x reader

596 notes · View notes

get0sfav · 5 months

Text

MEANIE! | ryomen s.

↳ ryomen sukuna x f!reader

assigned to be the resident bad boy's lab partner who also happens to be your friend's twin brother? so cliche! loosing your virginity to him? even more cliche! ugh!

18+ Minors DNI!

warnings; university au, mean!sukuna, virgin!shy!reader, sukuna is yuji's twin brother, superr cliche, ooc sukuna, cussing, teasing, dub-con/ish, pet names (good girl, brat, doll, etc.), name-calling (slut, whore, fucktoy), degradation, fingering, ass spanking, biting, nipple play, slight groping, mentions of f!masturbation, size difference, doggy style, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex (sukuna convinces reader to let him hit raw😔🤚🏼), multiple orgasms (2), choking, creampie, breeding kink, yuji catches the two of you🤓, not proofread.

wc; 2.7k

a/n; writing this made me realise how I was not built for this shit p.s this is so horrible but I had to post it because it was supposed to be up yesterday but eh, anyways, I promise the next fic would be a lot better thank you for reading. also lmk if anyone wants to be tagged in these fics !

tags(?); @satocidal <3

A familiar set of pink hair caught your sight, and if you didn't know better, you'd assume it was Yuji. But it wasn't, because you weren't in the cafeteria, waiting for him on a bench, but rather in a class he didn't take. No, It was his brother- Ryomen Sukuna. They looked identical for the most part, except, they often didn't. Where Yuji had a soft face, adored with the biggest smile ever, his brother had a sharp, ink clad face with an ever present scowl on it.

Luck of course wasn't on your side when you got assigned as his partner. Yuji wasn't happy either, because no way in hell would he want you, one of his best friends to be anywhere near his brother. Not like you had a say in any of this, but this project was worth about 40 percent of your grade, and you needed to get an A+ on this one. Your last project went horribly because of your last partner, and you weren't about to let another lazy, or rather intimidating partner let you drag your grades down once again.

Sukuna was sat beside you, occupying nearly 2 whole seats with the way he was spreading his legs. He seemed the least bothered about what the professor was saying, didn't bother to make notes or anything. That automatically meant that you were going to take notes for the both of you.

Great.

Chewing at your pen while the lecture hall filled with low chatter of people talking to their partners, discussing whatever topic they were assigned, on contrary to you and your partner, who was still the least bothered about anything.

Building up the courage to finally talk to him, you turn around to face him, but your attempt to speak up was cut off by his intimidating glare, "You're gonna do all the work, I'll pay you- or whatever. I don't got no time for this shit." He scowled, looking back towards his phone. "I- but-" The words died down in your throat with another look from him.

The class was dismissed soon enough, as he threw his bag over his shoulder, giving you a look that you couldn't quite understand, "Well?" He raised a brow, the way he stared down at you from his height was quite intimidating. And when he put one foot forward, his gaze only became more imposing.

"C'mon, speak up."

"Well-" You took a deep breath, trying to sound a little brave while speaking "Well, what I meant to say is that I can't complete the project by myself- it's way too big, and it's worth like 40 percent of our grade."

"Then I guess you'll fail" He chuckled, bringing his phone out and ignoring whatever else you had to add onto the matter. He did not want to be bothered. He turned to face you, the most threatening thing you could think of was now looking at you, and he had no intentions of moving. It was quite the sight.

You simply backed down, almost shriveling into the little bubble you came out from. Well that was a shit show. No wonder his brother didn't like him. Hell, moments like these made you wonder how the hell him and Yuji are related, moreover, twin brothers.

"What do you expect me to do? Babysit you? You know how to write, how to research, I'm sure you can figure it out." Sukuna grumbled, before returning his eyes to the screen of his phone. He clearly didn't want to be bothered, but he also didn't want to give the dean another reason to get on his ass, so he'd maintain the conversation. For now, atleast.

"I wouldn't have bothered you if I could do it alone-" You stated, chewing on your fingernails "It requires two people, and I don't think I count as two so." The words simply spurted out of your mouth, and you had no idea where you got the confidence to even speak like that in the first place. Maybe it was because you had already decided that it was A+ or nothing, and there was absolutely no way anyone was going to stand between you and your grade.

"Oh? And why can't you do it alone?" Sukuna asked, finally turning his gaze from his phone up to you.

His gaze was almost threatening, as if he was sizing you up. Which he was. After a moment of silence, and a slight shake of his head, "Fine." He said, turning on his heel and walking away. He did not, however, wait for you to follow, even though the way he ended the conversation implied that he wanted you to follow him.

"Oh-" Was it really that easy? Or was there a catch to his agreement. Whatever it was, you were sure you could handle it, but as for now, you quickly stuffed your things in your bag, rushing after him.

"And one more thing" He called over his shoulder, still continuing to walk. His voice sounded stern, unamused. It didn't have the same warmth and softness to it that Yuji had. Sukuna sounded cold, threatening and had a slight edge to it.

"We're not partners. Don't talk to me more than you need to."

"Okay" It wasn't as if you wanted to talk to him either, but it wasn't a big deal to affirm what he had said. "Well? Should we go to the library or somewhere else?" You asked awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of your sweatshirt.

"I do whatever I want, and you're coming with. We're going to study at my place." Sukuna did not go to the library to study- hell, he didn't even study, and definitely not in a pair. He didn't even acknowledge you until you spoke, but you would have to follow anyway. He turned to walk, expecting you to fall in line.

"Alright..." You spoke under your breath, following him back to his house. You had been there a couple of times when you hung out with Yuji, Megumi and Nobara, but you had never seen Sukuna around at that time, and you had a slight hint that most of the times he was out partying, or getting wasted one way or the other.

Atleast that's what Yuji had told you.

His and Yuji's apartment was close to the campus, and that's where you two went. He crept inside the house, removing his shoes at the door and you did the same. The same cold voice spoke once again, and you were left with no choice but to follow him to his room.

The lights were off, and the place was lit by a window that let the sun shine inside.

"You can sit on the bed." Not bothering to say anything else, he threw his bag on the floor, choosing to sit on his desk and working on his PC. Surprisingly, he actually knew what the topic was, and had already collected some material regarding it.

"kay" You nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed as you placed down your bag beside you, taking out your own laptop to work.

The two of you worked in silence, the only sound echoing in the room was the typing sounds of keys, or the occasional sigh that escaped his lips.

He continued, rolling his neck to ease up some tension, he seemed to work in silence, only calling your name when he needed something from you.

After a couple of hours, Sukuna pushed his chair back, stretching his arms out. He had finally finished and it was, rather impressive. Sukuna's writing skills were, to say the least, superb.

"Are you nearly done yet?" He stood up from his chair, walking to stand beside you, leaning down a little to see what you were doing on your screen.

"Yeah, I'm almost done. Could you just mail me everything you've written? I'll compile it and print it out and maybe tomorrow we can work on actually doing the project practically, since we're almost done with the theoretical part?" You spoke in a soft tone, looking at him, waiting for his response.

*He stared back down at you, for about a whole minute, his gaze was almost intimidating. "Check your email." He sighed, standing back straight to stretch his arms once more. You nodded, checking your email just as he asked, only to find the work you needed already there in your inbox. Wasn't he efficient.

"Oh, well, thanks. I think we're done for the day, right? I guess we'll meet tomorrow then?" You acknowledged, before packing up your stuff in your bag, giving him a curt nod, a way of saying 'thank you.' He simply gave you a quick look, probably his way of telling that he heard you. With that, you darted out of his room and towards the font door, without sparing another glance towards him.

As you exited his apartment, you realised that you may or may not have left your phone on his bed. Dreading to face his gaze once more, you needed your phone to get home, so, with sweaty palms, you knock on his door once, waiting for him to open it. The door flew open, with Sukuna's annoyed expression, eyebrows crossed in annoyance, "What the hell do you want now brat?"

"I- I think I left my phone inside." You gulped, and he simply lets out a grunt of annoyance, opening the door just enough for you to slip in, which you do quickly, rushing to his room where you previously sat to find your phone. Luckily, it was easily spotted, kept on the nightstand. You quickly pick it up and pocket it, turning around to find him leaning on the door frame with the same cruel eyes of his.

Refusing to make eye contact with him, you try to swiftly exit the room, but fate had other plans for you. Tripping on whatever invisible obstacle that was placed in your path, you fall. On Sukuna.

A yelp escapes your mouth, thankfully, his reflexes were quick, but not quick enough, causing the two of you to fall on the floor, him taking the most of the collison. You're way to afraid to even open your eyes, because you knew you'd be met with the most deathly glare from the man beneath you. What makes things even worse, you were basically stradling his lap, hands on his chest, and let's not forget- his hands, on your ass. Your cheeks turn crimson at the realisation, as you squeezed you eyes shut, hoping that maybe, somehow a strike of thunder would evaporate you from the world.

You're frozen in place, not being able to do anything as you await the meanest string of cusses ever heard, probably even a shove too, but no. What you hear is much, much scarier. A chuckle. A chuckle from the Ryomen Sukuna. "What's got you blushing like a 'fuckin virgin eh?" His chuckle resonated in the silent room, making heat creep up your entire body. You weren't sure whether it was from embarassment or something entirely different.

"Aw, you like my hands on your ass brat?" He teased further, slightly squeezing your ass in between his hands, eliciting a gasp from your lips, your eyes flowing open, only to see a smug smirl on his face. You were sure at this point, your entire face was red, and maybe, just maybe he was right. You just might like his hands on your ass.

Seeing your reaction, he pushes you so you were properly stradling his lap now, squeezing your ass once more, this time a little harder. "Let me guess- y're a virgin?" He concluded, from the looks you were giving. Was it really that obvious? Well, there's no point in lying anyway. You nod slowly, as he barks out a laugh, causing you to flinch a little, "Fuckin hell," He shook his head, the smirk still on his face, "Your cunt must be fucking tight, hm?"

His words made you shudder, and god you'd be lying if you said his words didn't give you the tingling feeling in your lower stomach. "Hah. Tell me this then, what would happen if i did," He gripped your ass tightly, and without putting in any effort, he lifted you up along with himself, causing you to mewl. Your legs were now hanging beside him, his hands still on your ass as he walked and thre you on his bed, quite a bit violently for your liking.

"W-What are you trying to do?" Your voice came out meekly, but he simply chuckled once more. "let's say; if i were to do, this," He moved closer to you, his hands gripping at your waist, pulling you closer to him, slowly snaking his hands under your shirt, his cold hands feeling electrical on your bare skin as you bit back a hiss, "And then, this," His hands were moving up and down your waist, inching closer and closer to the hem of your bra, "Do you like this?" He smirked, now enveloping his finger around your waist, pulling you in a way that you were laying on you back, with him on top of you.

Fuck him and his annoying, good looking, smug face. You never found him to be even remotely attractive before, so why were you dripping in your panties then? Was it your touch-deprived brain feel so turned on from finally being touched by someone else other than your own fingers? Probably.

Almost like he could read your mind, his skilled fingers traveled to the hem of your pants, raising his eyebrows, his way of asking if you wanted it. Not a single word came out of your mouth, breath hitching in your throat. You weren't sure yourself, whether you wanted this or not, but he took your silence as approval, pulling down your pants in an instant, followed by the removal of your shirt as well. It all happened so quickly that there was no time to process it, before his tongue was inside your mouth, while his hands roamed around your underwear clad body. You moaned softly in the kiss, his experienced lips guiding your own, his tongue exploring your mouth. Messy, sloppy and rough. He didn't stop kissing you, wanting to go on forever.

He breaks the kiss, a string of saliva connecting both of your lips and the sight makes the sensation in your lower stomach even stronger, feeling yourself growing wetter and wetter every moment.

You want to say something, anything at all, but you trail off, your throat feeling dry when his fingers tease along the line of your jaw, down to your chin. Tipping it up, he leans in and leaves a warm kiss on your throat, trailing lower, lower and lower until he reaches the valley of your breasts, fingers travelling to your back to unclasp the hook of the bra, throwing it away somewhere along the rest of your clothes. He bites down on the sensitive skin just about your left nipple, before lapping it with his tongue. His free hand plays with your other nipple pinching and pulling at it.

Each and every action he does causes a new sound to erupt from deep within you, the way you responded made him go wild. There was just something about virgins that made him lose his mind. The way they responded from just the slightest touch- or how wet their cunts get from just kissing. But he'd have to admit, you were his favorite by far. It wasn't just you that responded to him, it was your whole body, wanting more and more from him. He loved it.

His fingers brush over your clothed folds before he cups your mound. Grinding the heel of his palm against you gently, you roll your hips up into his touch, rubbing against his hand, "God.. Do you feel that doll, feel how soaked you are? getting my hand wet by just rubbing it over your pantie, tch, I bet you'd stain my sheets from just how wet this little pussy is." Closing your eyes shut at his words, you feel yourself leaning more and more into his touch, wanting nothing more than for him to touch you, directly.

Eager pants leave you when his fingers teasingly dip between your folds through the thin material of your panties. The fabric is damp already and as he teases you with touches that are entirely too gentle for your rising desperation, you find yourself whining under his cruel touch. He simply chuckles, "tch, now, now, it's not nice to get all eager, you should be thankful to me." His actions get more cruel, as he does nothing but play with your folds from over the fabric.

Satisfied with how you’re whining underneath him, he slides his fingers to the hem of your panties, pulling them down with a snap against your skin, retreating to keep them in the drawer of his bedside stand. The air hits your wet cunt, causing you to shiver, as you push yourself on your elbows, watching him look at your cunt with greedy eyes. Spreading your legs further apart, two of his fingers dip into your hole and he is pleased to find it welcoming him into your tight heat. A loud moan slips past your lips, as you feel his fingers dip inside you.

This was way better than any time when you had touched yourself on your own, his two fingers stretching you out better than anything. The length of his fingers caused you to jerk, feeling the slightest bit of pain from how long and thick they were, small tears forming in the corner of your eyes "Shitttt look at you" He grunts, and you look up at him, only to see him palming the tent in his pants, "You're nearly crying from my fingers, how are you gonna take my cock doll?" He chuckles cruelly, picking up the pace of his fingers inside you.

Your walls pulse around him and you arch your body into him when he curls the digits up and rubs exploratively within your pussy, trying to find the spot that makes you see stars.

He's too rough, adding a third finger and pushes all three of them into you down to the knuckle. This tears a gasp from your throat and you buck your hips up into his touch, over and over again, as you feel the strength leave your legs. You were seeing stars now, eyes closed shut, gasps and moans leaving your mouth. He loved the sight, continuing his pace, the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter.

"Su-Sukuna, 'm gonna cum-!" Your fingers grip the sheets beside you, your entire body shaking from the intensity and quickness of his fingers, moaning his name over and over again, "Good girl, good fucking girl, cum for me" He smirks, adding his thumb to rub circles on your clit, a yelp flies from your mouth as you're a sweaty mess under his touch. With a few more pumps from his fingers, you're yelling out his name, knuckles white from how hard you had been gripping the sheets as he guides you through your high, the intense wave of pleasure hitting hard, head hitting the plush mattress as your arms give out, and everything seemed a little dizzy around you.

He retreats his fingers, causing your cunt to clench around nothing. You hear him zipping down his pants, chuckling dryly. "Cmon slut, I ain't done with you yet." His hands grab at your waist, flipping you over so that your head was pressed against the mattress, and your ass was facing him. Huffing, you turn around to see him, eyes widening when you're met with the sight of his cock instead.

It was long, not too long but longer than the average one you saw in porn. He was girthy too, multiple veins running down to the tip of dick. The tip was flushed red, leaking with pre-cum, his hand grabbing the base of it. What caught your eye was that the tattoos that decorated his entire body ended just where his dick started.

"Aren't you going to use a- a condom?" You objected, slightly biting your lip. He simply scoffs, "Trust me, you don't want to use a condom for your first time doll, it's just more painful." He shrugs, his finger collecting the pre cum from his tip before pumping his hand up and down on his entire length. He looks at you with his eyebrows raised and a slight pout, "If you're that worried I'll buy you morning after pills alright?" He sighs, before aligning the tip of his cock with your already sensitive cunt, causing you to shiver.

One of his hands holds your waist, while the other grips your ass, slapping it twice and kneading the soft flesh, before he starts pushing more and more of his dick inside you, grunting every time your walls pulse around him.

You're holding back tears from how painful it was feeling, biting down on your lip hard enough to draw some blood. He notices how tense you are, massaging the small of your back, "Relax, it's going to be worse if you're tensed up, brat." His grip tightened against your hip, and just when he was almost inside you, he bottomed out, pulling your hips to meet his torso, eliciting a loud cry from you, and a drawled out grunt from him.

*"Fuck you're so tight" He moans, throwing his head back, giving you a moment to adjust to his length, tears spilling from your eyes. Carefully, he starts moving. You lean your head back, your jaw dropping open and a moan leaving your throat. The way his cock stretches your walls out, pain and pleasure are mixed together, "'s to big sukuna!" He ignores your cries, gripping tightly against your hit as he starts to pick up his pace, the pain slowly turning into a pleasurable feeling.

He pulls back totally, leaving only the tip inside your cunt before ramming inside. You cry out with pleasure, clenching your walls around his cock as he thrusts in and out of your pussy with no mercy. His hand which was previously gripping your waist grabs your left tit, groping and pawing at it, pinching the nipple over and over again. The bed shakes underneath you and sounds of skin slapping against each other resonate in the room. The scene was so lewd, your pussy making squelching sounds every time he thrusts a little harder, hitting the sweet spot within you.

Every so often the squelching nosies of your pussy can be heard as Sukuna thrusts his cock inside of you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, mouth gaping open as loud moans and whimpers leave your throat. He was too rough, too rough to be your first time, but there was this thrill you got every time he bullied past your walls, hitting deep inside you.

He grunts, his fingers trailing up your back and to the nape of your neck, before he grips it hard, pulling you back so that your back was against his chest. His hand now held your throat from the front, and the new angle made you feel that he was inside your stomach, thrusting harder and harder.

Sukuna watches as his cock slides in and out of you, filling you up with pleasure. Sinful whimpers and cries leave your throat, strained from the hand wrapped around your throat. He could get used to the scene, watching how your tits bounced up and down with every mean thrust of his, how your hands desperately tried to find something to grab a hold of. Oh how he loved this.

You moan, feeling your mind shut from the pleasure, and how strongly the feeling of pleasure was creeping up. You were going to come again, "Sukuna ah- ah shit! I'm- I'm gonna come!"

"Not yet" He grunts, breath fanning over your ear as his thrusts become sloppier, "Not yet" his words are drawled out, "Gonna fill you up, yeah, take it like the good whore you are mhm?" He whispers, licking your ear and nearly sending you over the edge, "Sukuna pl-please! I-I need to-" "Shit- fuck, cum on my dick then" You felt hot, sticky ropes of his cum filling you up, as he thrusts once more, feeling everything empty out in you.

It's a lot, oozing out from your sore, abused cunt. The two of you pant heavily, His fingertips give your throat a light squeeze as he starts to roll his hips back, and you drop to the mattress, feeling more than euphoric, stars, moons, the entire universe clouding your thoughts. You were on cloud 9, even though your core was still shaking, even if he had fucked his cum deep inside you. It didn't matter, it was all too ecstatic, the daze you felt better than any high anyone could have ever experienced. You heard him chuckle, feeling his hands press on your worn out and shaky thighs, almost as if massaging the sore muscles.

It's bad to set expectations from him though, because all he did was use his thumb to collect his cum that leaked out of your hole to your thighs, pushing it all back inside. Giving your ass one last slap he stood up, and got dressed in just his sweatpants, and just then, you heard your name being called.

Your eyes widen as you realise who it was, turning around to see Yuji standing in the doorway, his eyes wide and an expression of disgust on his face.

"Get out you measly brat" Sukuna groaned, pushing his hair back before slamming the door in poor Yuji's face.

This just got a lot awkward, didn't it?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna jjk #sukuna x reader #sukuna #jjk ryomen

404 notes · View notes

chilschuck · 26 days

Note

ougghh these past few days i cant get this thought out of my head;;;; chilchuck with a tall-man clingy reader who's just wrapped around him at all times...

whenever the party takes a quick rest from walking they instantly have their arms around him. they r very short despite being a tall-man (lost the genetic lottery 😔 def not projecting) but still conveniently tall enough to comfortably lean their chin on top of his head

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ THIS WAS SO CUTE ANON!!! i feel that so bad, it’s hard being short out here. :”)) i loved coming up with ideas for this, as i know i’d definitely be that way with him if given the chance!!!

— CHILCHUCK: x clingy tall-man!reader

꒰ warnings: ꒱ gn!reader and sfw as always! super fluffy <33

꒰ wc: ꒱ 528

✦ i hope this is okay!! like always i had so much fun writing it!! enjoy!! <33

✦ This first started when you found out just how warm the half-foot was. You were struggling to fight off the cold one night and had noticed how delighted Izutsumi had been when she held him. Curiosity getting the better of you, you shyly asked if you could put your bedroll closer to his. Unsurprisingly to anyone in the party, you ended up with him in your arms that night.

✦ Soon enough, snuggling up beside him at night turned to you leaning into him whenever the party took a moment to rest. This grew into more of an embrace, which finally ended in you fully wrapping yourself around him every chance you got. Chilchuck wasn’t a fan of public affection, but for some reason, that soft spot he held for you let it slide. After all, it’s not like it was completely unwelcome…

✦ You weren’t very tall for, well, a tall-man, which meant you often rested your head on top of Chilchuck’s when you could. Pulling him into your arms and wrapping them around his waist, you nuzzled into the back of his neck and perched your chin atop his head often. This caused the half-foot’s cheeks to flush violently the first time you did it, but over time he’s gotten more and more used to the action.

— “Alright, we’ll take a break here and make something to eat.” Laios announced, the party breathing a sigh of relief at the chance to take a moment of rest. You immediately sought out Chilchuck, standing in front of him with your arms extended towards him. He let out a sigh, scratching the back of his head to disguise the heat rising in his cheeks. “C’mere…” He grumbled, hiding how his heart skipped a beat at your elated expression.

You sighed at having him in your arms, resting your head on his shoulder as his back was flush against your chest. He’d never admit it, but he had started to look forward to these little moments with you…

✦ Marcille couldn’t help but squeal with delight whenever she saw you hold him close, teasing Chil about how hard he had avoided forming a relationship. This would result in him barking out excuses about how you just used him for warmth, it wasn’t like that!! (Except it was, and everyone in the party was privy to the budding relationship between you two.)

✦ Especially when you noticed when Chil was exhausted, he’d wordlessly plop his head down into your lap, curling up into your side. He could be a bit clingy himself, given the right circumstances… Pet his head and run your fingers through his hair to practically hear him purr. (And to have him completely pass out.)

✦ Chilchuck began leaving room for you beside him, or even behind him, whether it was in his bedroll or when the party was taking a moment of reprieve. It became a common occurrence that there was a perfectly you-shaped space anywhere around him. Maybe soon he’d confess how he really feels, which we all know would only bring on more of the affection. (Which he couldn’t say he’d be disappointed in.)

— dividers by @/cafekitsune! <3

#⟡ lilia writes! 🌿#୨ chilchuck my beloved ୧ #i’m sorry it’s not a lot!!!#i hope it’s okay!!! <3 #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck tims x reader #dunmeshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi x reader

213 notes · View notes

sunkendreams · 5 months

Note

You’ve got me absolutely melting for David!!

How about him and something with edging, because he’s an asshole who would def love your needy frustration🥴

flesh for fantasy.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. | david (the lost boys) x fem!reader.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓. | one-shot — requested.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. | 8.3K (not sorry!)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. | SMUT! (mdni), vampire antics, gore/violence (people die), very mild seduction/hypnosis, edging, rough sex (david is not gentle at all), missionary and from behind, biting, bloodplay (he’s a vampire), choking, hair-pulling, david is mean, blowjob, cunnilingus, dirty talk, pet names (kitten, sweetheart), clothes ripping, fingering, teasing, david is extremely possessive, begging, crying, etc. this fic is nasty & david is an asshole

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. | w h e w — here we are AGAIN. I promise that there will be a marko fic guys !!! I have so many lost boys projects going rn that the content is endless at this point! thank you so much for your support, requests, love, etc. I literally adore y’all so much you don’t understand :)) hope you guys enjoy!

David had become a fever that you couldn’t sweat out — your pale-headed, blue-eyed infatuation. Even in your moments spent alone, his voice rang within your head, echoing like the lull of a siren. His sly laughter, his smirk — they were embedded into your brain. It was almost like some fog had come over you, and he was the only thing on your mind, the only thing that you were permitted to think about.

After that night spent within the darkness of the boardwalk’s endless carnival, he wanted you to meet him at the beach, shrouded by the cover of dusk. It had become easier to fib to your mother about where you were going at night — it was always a rotation of excuses. Friends, a beach concert, or another group hangout.

Frilly, pastel-yellow fabric clung to your frame, a sundress that billowed in the cool, night breeze of Santa Carla. It was covered in a ditsy floral pattern, something sweet and a little innocuous. The boardwalk was always congested, crowded with waves of people that swarmed you wherever you went.

You hadn’t pinpointed exactly where you were supposed to meet David, so you joined the massive herd of people that were partying around the current concert. The noisy thrum of rock music floated through the air, and you blended in seamlessly with the rest of the crowd. He would find you eventually — he always did.

Even through the midst of music, you could still hear David, always buried somewhere within the recesses of your mind. You had no idea how you’d become so enamored with him and so quickly, but you didn’t want to go against the grain and fight your feelings. He was naturally charming and enticing — you assumed that you were just smitten and awestruck.

Someone bumped into you, prompting you to shift elsewhere, toward a wooden ledge that seemed less populated. You watched the concert with idle interest, flesh erupting with goosebumps as a gloved hand grabbed at your waist. You shivered, whirling around to find David’s smirking countenance.

He was close, wedged behind you with a devious grin, pressing a brief kiss against your neck. “Found you.” He chuckled, circling you like a predator would prey as he searched for your hand. “Were you hiding from me?” David inquired, wanting to tease you a little bit. You were always so flustered and smitten — it was difficult not to find enjoyment in it.

Your lips parted, skin crawling with heat as it licked across the column of your spine. As David took your hand, he began to lead you from the crowd and into the unoccupied, sandy shores. There was a spacious staircase that led back up from the boardwalk and a terrace above.

“Never,” You protested, and that was enough to earn you a laugh from David. It was ominous and enticing, like the encroaching darkness — your curiosity was insatiable. You followed him as if you were in a trance, spotting the pack of ragtag motorcycles and the boys you’d encountered before. “Where are we going?”

David stopped midway atop the steps, guiding you forward until you were pressed against him. Your scent invaded his senses, thick and saccharine as that familiar pang of thirst scratched within his throat. He towered over you, brushing his thumb along the curve of your jawline. “Somewhere special.”

A brief laugh escaped you — he was going to keep you in the dark until you arrived. “Okay,” You hummed, gaze glued to his features as he playfully squeezed at your hip. His touch was incendiary, and you wanted to feel him anywhere and everywhere. “No hints?” You asked, listening to his sly chuckling.

“Not this time, sweetheart.” David mused, briefly nipping at your lower lip before coaxing you up the stairs again. You followed, rounding the grated bannister as he released your hand. The pack of boys were all waiting on their bikes, and the one you’d spoken to before, Paul, winked and waved at you.

You hesitated, poised along the edge of the walkway as David sauntered toward his bike, a dust-laden Triumph, taking a seat atop the vehicle as he revved the engine to life. He then peered toward you, expectant and unusually patient. Those crystalline, pale eyes shamelessly roamed across your body, drinking in the look of you in that sundress.

“Are you coming?” David asked, gesturing toward the empty space behind him. Even from the few feet of distance between you both, he listened to the excited, erratic beating of your heart. His lips twitched into a smirk, knowing that you’d go with him anyway.

“Not yet, she’s not.” Paul guffawed, releasing a series of wolfish whistles and howls. The other curly-headed blonde laughed along with him as the two smacked at one another.

David’s gaze narrowed slightly, but this sort of crass behavior was to be expected. He’d keep you safe. Finally, he extended his hand towards you, head cocked to one side. He was silent, enticing you through eyes and expression alone. Part of him wanted to utilize persuasion, but he thoroughly enjoyed whenever you chose him of your own free will.

The desire to leave the boardwalk behind for a night to spend it with David was much too tantalizing to ignore. Your feet shuffled forward, and you finally reached him, taking a hold of his hand. “I’ve never ridden one of these before.” You were a little concerned — motorcycles weren’t exactly the safest option.

Wordlessly, David coaxed you onto the seat behind him, craning to look over his shoulder at you. “Just hold on tight, kitten. I won’t let you fall.” He sneered, and to add fuel to the fire, he tilted backward, mouth sloppily landing against your plush, sweet lips. That devilish grin appeared again, prompting you to wrap your arms around his midsection.

As the bikes roared to life, David made sure that you were clinging on before spinning around within the patch of sand, making it fly across the boardwalk. He revved the engine, signaling for the rest to follow as they flew down a set of stairs, making you gasp and rock forward. David sped out onto the stretch of open beach, laughing and howling.

You hadn’t seen him like this — wild and carefree, screaming into the dead of night. David was often calculating and methodical, but you enjoyed seeing this other side of him, this primal, unrestrained edge he now possessed. The more he drove, the more comfortable you became, leaning up to get a better look of your surroundings.

As he drove toward the pier, you gasped, fingers twisting into his coat as he went straight through the wooden rafters underneath. Dangerous and daunting — but that pang of fear inevitably dissipated into excitement and sheer exhilaration. You glanced over your shoulder, watching the other boys close in behind you.

Santa Carla’s shoreline inevitably stretched into cliffsides and a wilderness of cypress trees and dirt, which is where David veered off into. Paul playfully wove his bike a little closer to you, letting out a series of whistles before David inevitably got bored of his antics, applying a barrage of pressure on the gas.

The night sky was uninhibited by clouds — it was endlessly clear, marked by a smattering of millions of stars and the silvery glow of a full moon. Forest dwindled the closer you got toward Hudson’s Bluff, waves crashing against the rock. Along the small patch of shoreline near the old lighthouse, there was a group of people partying around a small bonfire.

“Hold on.” David cautioned, swinging his bike around as he drove down a steeper incline. The bluff had an old, rocky dirt path that climbed down to the mouth of a cavern at the very bottom. It was surrounded by a mess of ‘DO NOT ENTER’ signs, barricades, and old paneling, now rotted from the ocean’s encroaching tides.

You rocked forward, colliding with his back as he made it towards the very bottom. It was a relatively wide patch of dirt and rock, where the rest of the pack promptly parked their motorcycles, draping tarps over them. The group surrounding the bonfire didn’t seem to pay any of you much attention at all.

David helped you off of the bike, grasping ahold of your hand as he motioned toward the dark entrance of the cave. The rest of the boys began to whoop and laugh as they barreled down the path inside of the cavern, torchlight diminishing as it left you and David alone outside of the cave.

He was bathed in moonlight — flesh unnaturally pale, eyes vibrant, hair turned to tresses of silver. His musculature pressed into your side, gloved palm calmly cupping your cheek. “Come with me,” He murmured, lips ghosting above the shell of your ear. “Be with me.” David’s voice had become sultry, and it almost held some sway and power over you.

A shudder rattled the length of your spine, goosebumps following suit as they coalesced across your body. David gingerly turned your face, forcing you to look up at him as he stroked his thumb against your chin. “Of course, David.” You were intrigued by what awaited you within that cave — you assumed that it was their hangout, a place to simply exist.

With a sly chuckle, he led you into the shadowed maw of the cavern, and you were launched into a place unlike any other. Dim torchlight illuminated your path as David coaxed you into their lair, where moonlight pooled onto a massive, stone fountain in the very center. It looked old — the architecture was dilapidated and crumbling, but it was all decorated with whatever they enjoyed.

Paul made himself at home, perched atop the edge of the fountain as Dwayne climbed up toward a nook carved into the rock, retrieving a case of what appeared to be alcohol. Marko came up to David, murmuring something in secrecy. Both pairs of eyes momentarily darted toward you, until David’s lips twitched into a smirk.

Marko gestured towards Paul, and the pair exited the cave, laughing and howling their way back out into the cool, oceanic dusk. You wondered what that was all about, but decided not to question it as David motioned to your newfound surroundings.

“This was the hottest resort in Santa Carla about eighty-five years ago,” David released your hand, idly sauntering around the central fountain as he prodded at the dangling fixtures of shells and bone. “They built it right along the faultline, and once the ground opened up?” He trailed off, rounding the stone until he made his way back to you. “Swallowed it whole. Now, it’s ours.”

You were intimately familiar with Santa Carla, but not enough to fully comprehend the immense amount of history lying around. You leaned over, sweeping your fingertips against the massive chandelier, rotting away within the basin of cave water. A wad of cobwebs stuck to your hand.

“It’s pretty. There’s so much to see here, too.” You chimed, peering toward the cavernous roof of the cave, where slats of moonlight pooled through, right into the center. “Where did the others go?” It was odd that they’d left so soon after just arriving.

David chuckled, knowing the gravity of the situation that you would soon find yourself caught within. If you weren’t exposed to them now, it would become increasingly difficult for him to suppress what he really was. “They went to get dinner.” He stated, which, in some twisted sense, was the truth.

With a brief laugh, you decided to pass off David’s statement as humorous, studying the intricate details of their home-away-from-home. You noticed the dangling sculptures made of animal bone, seashells, and various pieces of sea-glass. A massive banner of Jim Morrison hung on one of the rocky walls, another of Motley Crüe.

Vulnerability seeped from every pore, and David knew that he would have you — soon enough. He followed closely behind you, letting you explore as you pleased, wandering about the cave. You felt his hand press against the small of your back, gloved digits idly massaging into your curves, easy to feel beneath your sundress.

As you stepped toward a collection of chairs, you noticed one with a very high back, made of mahogany and velveteen cushions, layered in a fine sheen of dust. David moved around you, sitting down with a huff in that seat, head cocked to one side. “Don’t be shy.” He uttered, patting his thigh with a gloved palm.

Heat swept through you, crawling across your flesh as you hesitantly wandered toward David. You were a little nervous, considering that the boys were around, but he seemed entirely unbothered by this. He was smirking at you, patiently waiting until you lowered yourself into his lap, feeling him anchor an arm around your hips.

Your scent was intoxicating — heavy and warm, like the innocence of springtime. David absentmindedly licked his lower lip as he played a dangerous game, leaning in to press a kiss against your bare shoulder. Teeth momentarily grazed flesh, causing you to shudder as you made yourself comfortable.

Sounds of rancor and laughter reverberated throughout the cavern, prompting you to glance up at the rocky incline. Marko and Paul returned with two strangers — a younger couple who seemed intrigued by their surroundings.

Confusion flickered across your features, but you let it subside, assuming that they wanted to make it a party of-sorts. David held you close, practically pinning you against him as he idly caressed along your supple curves. He knew what was about to happen — your terror would come to a head.

“Wow! Look at this place, Con!” The girl echoed, hanging onto the arm of her boyfriend. They were your age, if not a little older, oblivious as to what was about to happen. Dwayne hopped down from the nook above, gaze bristling with a thinly-veiled hunger.

“Good choice.” David mused, grin becoming devilish and wrathful as he leaned forward within his chair. “I don’t think our guest will be very hungry. They’re all ours.” He assured, giving your hip a playful pat. He had no intention of turning you — not yet, anyway.

Paul and Marko began to snicker, with Marko cocking his head to one side before he gestured to you. “Off limits?” He’d ask, evoking a rather visceral response from David, whose eyes were akin to frozen pits full of ire and protectiveness.

“Yes.” David quipped, able to taste the bewilderment and confusion that dripped from you. It oozed from your pores — he could smell that surge of nervousness looming about you. It produced a peculiar pheromone that he could detect, something akin to uncertainty. You were something that he had no desire to share.

You belonged to him, now.

With a brief bout of laughter, your brows furrowed together. “Hungry?” You’d ask, unsure of why David was referring to food when there wasn’t a lick of it in-sight. The atmosphere began to shift — instinct and foresight told you to flee, but there you sat, glued to David’s lap like a good little human. He knew you’d stay.

Dwayne let out a thunderous growl, grabbing the man by the collar as he thrust him toward his knees as if he weighed nothing at all. His girlfriend yelped and squeaked, wriggling around as Paul and Marko sprang forward, keeping her restrained.

This felt wrong.

“David, wh — what’s going on?” With a strained tone of voice, it hopped up an octave, laced with fear. Anxiousness swirled within the pit of your stomach, and you shuffled within David’s lap, prompting him to press his digits into the swell of your hip.

You became uneasy, looking to David for something — protest, a command, anything. Instead, he was grinning like a cheshire cat, the apex predator, visage taking on some leer of amusement as he peered toward you. “I told you, sweetheart,” He began, pressing a kiss against your jaw. “Dinner.”

It was as if everything happened all at once, your world beginning to spin so fast that you very nearly fainted, but David was keen on keeping you safe. Dwayne’s hands would rend and tear into the man, razor-sharp incisors suddenly sinking into his jugular.

You watched with shock and horror as Paul and Marko bit into the throat and shoulder of the woman, callously tearing at her flesh, crimson spurting into the open air as it pooled around her clothing. They were laughing, akin to a pack of slavering hyenas as the girl went down into the sand-laden dirt.

Their faces transformed, no longer the boyish visages from before — they were glistening with a sweat-like sheen and wolfish, with eyes like the sun, a liquid-gold adorned in a red ring, like a halo. Fangs protruded from their canines, and the air began to smell pungent, thick with the coppery haze of blood.

You yelped, immediately attempting to scramble off of David’s lap, but he kept you pinned, now fueled with inhuman strength in the presence of prey. That dark, sly laughter of his rang within your mind and throughout the cave, and again, you tried to throw yourself onto the ground. You feared that you would be next.

“Easy, easy,” David purred, grabbing your hips as he crushed your back against his chest. “I’ll keep you safe.” He uttered, and as convincing as it sounded, a sliver of you didn’t want to believe him anymore. Then again, it was solemn — it lacked that coy, cajoling tone from before.

A pair of fangs scraped across your neck, threatening to break the skin, and you realized that it was David. Your throat felt too thick, even if you wanted nothing more than to scream. Finally, he released you, watching as you immediately fled in the opposite direction, sundress snagging on a rock.

David chuckled, gracefully pushing himself out of the chair as he sauntered toward the now-mangled body of the woman. He knew that you wouldn’t be going anywhere — he had very little to worry about. Marko and Dwayne were having their fill of the man, whose body was as limp as a ragdoll, flesh an ashen pallor.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight of David sinking his fangs into the collarbone of the woman, drinking straight from the source as he and Paul drained her life away. You felt lightheaded, on the verge of collapsing as you tried to climb away, only to fall right back down into the dirt.

“David?” You croaked, attempting to push yourself up from the dirt, knees wobbling. The world felt as if it’d been turned upside-down, and you were simply along for the ride, dizzy and delirious. The four were in the midst of feeding, stained with red, glowering at you through the dim light of the cave.

As you stood upright, you began to sway, but before you could collapse and hit the ground, David caught you, mouth drenched in crimson. His tongue lashed across his fangs as he ogled you, letting out another chuckle. With a bow of his head, he kissed you, and you gasped when you tasted that swarming sting of blood.

With a swift and eager tongue, he lapped at the traces of scarlet left behind from his feeding, greedily hauling you in for another lewd, passionate kiss. He was surprised to find that you weren’t recoiling, hapless within his embrace as you let out a shrewd, agonzied whine. Even if what they’d done was terrifying, you still couldn’t keep yourself away from David.

You poor thing — scared to death, trembling within his arms. Without pause, he picked you up, cradling your warm body as he carried you toward his wing of the cave. He could sense that you were on the verge of passing out, and as soon as he’d placed you onto his bed, you fainted.

Be with me.

A strangled gasp tore past your lips as your eyes shot open, swiftly surveying your surroundings. Your heart began to beat erratically, threatening to rip free from your collarbone. David’s voice was still reverberating within your mind — the screams had drowned out from the cave, leaving you with the distant lull of Billy Idol and the cavern’s ambiance.

You were swaddled in a thin shawl, made of white silk and embroidered with silver stitching. The mattress you were strewn across smelled like spiced cigarettes, cologne, and that familiar twang of copper. You traced your fingers across the ages-old, ruffled blanket. Clearly, this bed was barely used.

“You’re awake,” David murmured, perched by the foot of the bed within the blink of an eye. His vampiric features had dwindled, leaving the man you’d become infatuated with standing there, icy hues and all. “I wondered if it would be too much for you.” For a moment, he worried that they’d scared you into a comatose state. “Now you know what we are.”

Admittedly, part of you was enticed and intrigued by what he was. It was hard not to be. “You’re not going to do that to me, are you?” You pondered aloud, shuddering when his countenance contorted into a look of agitation and disdain.

“No,” His voice was sharp, like the edge of a blade. “I’ve never wanted to hurt you, sweetheart. Though,” David’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “I do enjoy your taste.” He’d tasted your blood on multiple occasions — it was sweeter than anything he’d savored before.

You were his forbidden fruit.

Heat crept through you, and you knew that you shouldn’t have been so calm about this, but it was still David — nothing changed about him. Your feelings certainly hadn’t diminished, either. You felt his gloved palm cup the curve of your jaw, thumb tracing over your cheek. “What — What are you?” You asked.

Your question lacked malice or anything accusatory. In fact, it was nearly a whisper, soft as could be as he pulled you up and against his chest. David chuckled when you shivered in his grasp, especially when he flicked a single digit over the strap of your sundress.

“A creature of the night,” He could smell the sudden pang of arousal that struck between your thighs, savoring that scintillating aroma. It made him want to tear you apart — make you scream for him. “Something that you should be terrified of.” David huffed, holding your chin in-place.

When he touched you, it only made that yearning grow tenfold, opening the way for desire to fester through you like a raging fire. You careened into his embrace, unable to pry yourself away from him. David was dangerous, but he wasn’t terrifying — he was still the same. “It won’t change how I feel.” You mumbled.

David’s eyes became bright, ignited with a sudden fire and glittering desire. “Is that so?” He purred, lips curling into a wolfish grin. “How do you feel, kitten?” His voice was a borderline snarl as he grabbed at your hips, hard enough to leave behind bruise-like imprints.

A soft, stuttering exhale escaped you as you leaned up upon your toes, pressing your lips to his. The gesture was unusually soft, but it swiftly turned into something salacious. David held you tightly, gloved digits beginning to curl into the fabric of your sundress. It was all tongue, teeth, and sheer want as he nipped at your lower lip.

He dragged you with him, using the rocky wall of the cave as his perch, mouth still fixed to yours. He tasted like the bitter bite of copper, something that you would inevitably grow accustomed to. His grip became unnaturally ironclad, clinging to you with a firm grip as he tugged at your dress. A noise skin to stitches being ripped filled the air.

“You don’t mind, do you?” David chuckled, causing your breath to hitch within your throat. With a forceful tug, he rucked your dress into a state of dishevel, ripping one of the thin, cloth straps in the process. A growl emanated from deep within his chest as he stepped back, sinking down into an old, velvet chair.

Goosebumps gathered along the nape of your neck, sending an excitable chill across your flesh as you stood in front of him, between his legs. “I want you,” You whined, desperate for him even after everything you’d witnessed. Did it make you depraved for still desiring him? Sick, perhaps? You weren’t sure. “David, please.”

Precocious, furtive laughter escaped David — he knew exactly what he wanted from you. “I’ve got something you can have, sweetheart.” He uttered, icy hues flickering over your body, shamelessly admiring your curves. That sundress flattered your frame — a shame that he was about to tear it to shreds.

Wordlessly, David coaxed you onto your knees, completely at his mercy as you swallowed the growing lump within your throat. He trailed a hand across your jaw, squeezing on either side as he splayed his legs apart, lounging in the chair with some domineering edge. His lips curled into a devious grin.

You knew what he wanted — it wasn’t hard to tell. With a shiver of anticipation, your hands moved toward his waist, slipping underneath the coat and hem of his sweater. “Aren’t you going to take anything off?” You’d ask, voice innocuous and sweet as you fumbled with his belt, attempting to quell your nerves.

“No,” David mused, watching you with hungry eyes. “You’ll have to use your imagination.” With a liquid-smooth, alluring tone, he let you go at your own pace — which was undeniably sluggish. Your mind was racing, a tangled web of lascivious thoughts that made him sneer.

A soft huff escaped you, but you continued, loosening up those leather pants of his with nimble digits. Nervousness swelled within the pit of your stomach, afraid of disappointing David with your inexperience. A hiccup rippled through your throat as his erection fell against his clothed thigh.

In an attempt to soothe your nerves, David trailed his gloved fingers throughout your tresses, caressing your scalp. “So pretty,” He purred, smirking when he could smell that pang of arousal pooling between your legs. “Go on, kitten.” He encouraged, thumb sweeping over your lower lip.

His hand cradled the base of your skull, strong enough to crush you in one fell swoop if he chose. Instead, those digits idly massaged into your hair, tensing into the formation of a grip as your palm closed around his cock. You stroked him off with a few slower pumps, absentmindedly wetting your lower lip.

David began to read your mind, raking through every thought that manifested. A low growl reverberated from the back of his throat as you opened your mouth, cock flat atop your tongue as you began to suck him off. You were sweet about it — with those doe-like eyes and uncertain hands.

As you bobbed your head back and forth, creating a little rhythm for yourself, David guided you with one hand, the other clutching at the mahogany arm of the chair. It was steadily splintering underneath his ironclad grasp. “Good girl.” He purred, a husky sound escaping him as he pushed his hips forward.

Watching you suck his cock was mesmerizing — in a rather crass way. He exuded control over you, crystalline eyes drinking you in as you hollowed your cheeks with certain strokes, tongue lapping at the swollen head. Pearls of precum oozed from his length and into your maw, and you tried your best to maintain your composure.

Heat burned right through you, consuming your body like the crash of a tidal wave as you pressed your thighs together. No amount of smothering the warmth would mask your smell. You brought your head back, sliding back and forth along his cock, tongue flicking along the underside of his length.

A grunt escaped him as you pressed forward, hands hesitantly perching atop his thighs, to which David tilted forward once again. Your lips felt incredible, but more importantly, you were enjoying yourself, too. That initial sting of anxiousness melted away, feeling David’s hand twist into your tresses.

You took more of his length into your mouth, becoming a little bolder as you sucked and licked wherever possible. David wasn’t loud — his volume was all restrained, manifesting in the forms of rumbling grunts or brief, husky sighs of pleasure. Your nails dug into his leather-clad legs, shuddering when he let out a snarl.

With another jolt of his hips, you nearly recoiled when the first rope of hot seed landed upon your tongue. You hastily swallowed, but David had different intentions, ripping you off of his cock as he painted your poor chest and clothes with his seed. It was deliberate, and you could see the pearlescent gleam of his wolfish grin as he came.

“Sorry for the mess,” His apology was sardonic, spoken through his sultry lull as he wiped away a tendril of drool from the corner of your mouth. “You look pretty like that.” David sighed, icy-blue hues flashing with a momentary spark of gold. You were sweet enough to buckle him back up, too.

With a chuckle, he watched with amusement as you sheepishly cleaned yourself up, flesh crawling with warmth as his hands locked around your hips again. “David,” You sighed with passion, feeling his face press into your stomach. He could smell you — it was overwhelming. “Need you.”

Another low, sharp growl escaped him as he clawed at your dress, causing the fabric to tear, stitches coming apart at the seams. “My turn.” He uttered, and in one swift movement, he had you pinned on the bed, crawling down until his scruffy visage was nestled between your legs. He sighed, fighting off the urge to tear into you.

A strangled gasp tore past your lips, stomach erupting with butterflies as your vampiric paramour knelt between your legs, pressing a string of greedy kisses along your thighs. The burn of his beard was beyond pleasant, keeping you grounded as his hand snatched at your sundress.

“You were made for me,” David hissed, tone raging with possessiveness and a borderline obsession. There was a fire within his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, and you were now a witness to his strength as he tore your dress asunder. The fabric was ripped away entirely, leaving you in your frilly brassiere and panties. “Mine.”

Again, he continued on his warpath, letting out a delightful chuckle as he ripped your panties off, too. Your eyes flew open, watching as he tossed the now-destroyed remnants aside. David removed his gloves for this, allowing his icy flesh to melt against your warmth.

“David, I—“ You shivered when his teeth grazed along your inner thigh, able to spot those fangs of his. They were as sharp as razors, teasing your soft, fragile flesh. You wondered if he was going to turn you — if he truly wanted to, he would’ve done it at the boardwalk. “Are you going to …”

“Not yet,” David intercepted you, making it clear that your thoughts were no longer safe. He invaded your mind, and it was so very enjoyable. Your fantasies laid bare, stripped to the bone, all belonging to him. He leaned in, cold palm resting just above your breast, able to feel the erratic beating of your human heart. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He uttered, pressing a kiss along your knee. “To be mine — forever?”

There was something enthralling about the way he spoke to you — perhaps it was his voice or the piercing, calculating stare he gave you. You wanted nothing more than to become his, to feast in this supposed immortality, but you wanted to enjoy humanity for a little while longer. “Yes,” You whispered, reaching for his hand. “I’m yours.” It was an unspoken promise.

His fangs disappeared, but his grin did not, still present as he began to kiss along your leg once more. David kept quiet, gaze burning with lust as he nipped at your thigh, and then bit down. No fangs — just teeth. A little yelp escaped you, and he began to lap at the newly-formed bite mark, which would certainly leave a bruise.

He stooped lower, body nearly flat against the rickety mattress as he inhaled your scent. It only served to spur him on as another growl rippled through him. “Aren’t you going to use your manners?” David mused, tormenting you again with his teasing, but you weren’t above begging. He pinned your writhing hips down with one hand.

“Please,” You babbled, a strangled whine escaping you as David’s tongue briefly flicked across your slit. “Please David, please!” It was the worst form of torture, but you hoped he would continue, hands clamoring as you clutched onto the sheet in fistfuls.

“That’s better.” With another sharp nip against your soft flesh, he immediately went to work, dragging his tongue along your wet cunt. He was vigorous, passionate — you almost expected him to tease you, but you were pleasantly surprised. He gripped your thigh, keeping an arm hooked underneath for leverage.

Warmth pooled between your thighs, manifesting in the form of arousal. David was more than pleased to lap it all up, throat vibrating with an occasional grunt or growl as he flicked his tongue across your clit. One hand would snake down to assist, fingers working in-tandem to stroke at your cunt, intending on working you open.

Your back arched slightly, a myriad of moans leaving your parted lips as David touched you. His mouth was mesmerizing, dutifully lapping along the length of your cunt, taking a particular interest in your clit. When his lips pursed around that bundle of nerves, you nearly cried out, legs wobbling.

His tongue raked hot embers across your cunt, causing you to tremble and quiver, hips attempting to jolt forward again. You could practically feel David’s smirk as he buried his face between your thighs, beard scratching something ragged against your silky flesh.

Another moan left you when he began to suck on your clit, adding that little graze of his teeth. Your flesh felt so sensitive, crawling with goosebumps as David began to curl his fingers just slightly, making you whimper and twitch, legs accidentally pushing against his head.

David found enjoyment in making your writhe and squirm, your saccharine scent swimming around him like a thick fog. He could tell that you hadn’t done this before, judging from your constant whimpering and canting your hips forward. Nails buried themselves into your thigh, leaving behind angry impressions as he sunk two digits into your cunt, listening to you gasp.

A thin layer of dewy perspiration broke out along your flesh, provided by the continuous wave of heat drifting between the both of you. David was cold, like the bitter sting of winter as he soothed your feverish heat. “David!” You whined, cunt clenching around his digits as he pistoned them in and out of you.

All tact had dissipated as he began to submit to feral urges, another snarl rippling within his throat. His body shook from the noise, poised and leaning into you as he raked his tongue over your cunt. David’s hands kept you locked into place as he suckled on your clit again, causing you to cling to the sheets.

“David, m’close,” You huffed, eyes fluttering shut as you reclined on the mattress, allowing yourself to sink inward, hips occasionally attempting to twitch and jolt forward. As your head lolled to one side, your half-lidded stare drifted toward David, whose eyes were unnaturally vibrant — two liquid pools of gold. “David.”

His mouth worked with an unrestrained ardor, interlaced with a sinful hunger. Of course, he longed for your body just as much as he desired those sanguine rivers that pumped through your veins. With another purse of his lips and flick of his tongue, you were trapped within the throes of bliss.

Pleasure unfurled from the pit of your stomach, bristling through your body as it devoured you whole. You swore that you saw stars as a white-hot wave struck you again and again. David’s muffled laughter reverberated from between your thighs, prompting him to trace his tongue over your cunt again.

“David!” You moaned, feeling as if you were set ablaze, hips bucking off the bed just a little bit. Your orgasm ripped through you, sending shivers down your spine as you recovered. You tasted divine, able to hear his cacophony of soft grunts as he lifted his head, tongue lashing across his lower lip.

At last, he withdrew, dragging those sharp fangs across the inside of your thigh. A singular pearl of blood blossomed across your flesh, prompting David to swipe at it with an inhuman haste. His hands languidly groped and caressed along your haunches, yanking you toward the edge of the bed.

David stood between your legs, dark and towering like a pale-headed shadow, eclipsing all light from your view. The sight of you, blissed-out with a wet mess between your legs and a heaving chest was enchanting. Even he felt that rush of arousal as it all came crashing in again. Silently, he gestured toward his belt, waiting for you to come down from your climax.

With a soft huff, you sat up on your elbows, hands fumbling with his belt and leather pants again. You nearly jumped out of your own flesh when he grabbed your neck, dragging you in for a heated, messy kiss. David had little desire to be rough with you — this time, at least. He allowed his tongue to momentarily clash with yours, freeing his cock as he pressed closer.

“You ready, sweetheart?” David uttered, sluggishly pushing the head of his cock against your slick cunt, beginning to test the waters. His lips twitched into a devious smirk, filled with a twinge of desperation as he grabbed at either of your thighs.

You nodded, chewing at the inside of your cheek. A sloshing warmth filled the pit of your stomach as he pushed his cock inside of you, deliberately feeding you every inch of his length until he was buried at the base. You were tight, lips parting as a strangled moan escaped you.

A low growl ripped through David’s throat, feeling your sweet cunt clench pathetically around him. Sharp nails briefly dug into the pliant flesh of your hips as he thrust forward, causing you to gasp. He wasn’t exactly gentle, but his restraint was borderline, ready to crack and splinter at any moment.

His longing, whilst initially subdued, was now on full display. David’s eyes glistened like a feral animal, countenance contorted into an expression of need and desire, hips snapping forward as he began to bury his cock inside of you. You whimpered, legs threatening to slip around his waist.

“David,” You huffed, nearly squeaking when he stooped over, much closer to you. Any tact and sensuality dissipated as David began to rut into you, cock pistoning in and out of your tight cunt. His rhythm was swift and all-consuming as he held your hip with an iron grip, fingers leaving behind bruises. “Feels so good.” Your voice escaped you in a garbled slur.

Your hands fluttered from the sheets to him, gliding against his chest as they slipped upward, grabbing fistfuls of those platinum-blonde tresses. A grunt left him as heat blistered between the both of you, more from you than from him. Fire would meet ice as he pressed close, nipping at your lower lip as you urged him in for a kiss.

There was something primal and hungry about his kiss, as if he’d been completely starved of all contact. It was teeth and tongue colliding as he roughly gained entry into your mouth, teeth scraping across your lower lip, growling into your mouth. His pace seemed to match that sensation, brutal and unrelenting as he hammered away at your poor cunt with no sign of slowing down.

The contact was short-lived as David brusquely jerked backward, pulling his cock out of you. That emptiness made you whimper, desperate for him to continue — and he intended to, but in a different way. He turned you over, manhandling you onto your stomach as he grabbed your hips, shoving his cock back into you.

His cajoling laughter reverberated throughout the alcove, making your mind go fuzzy as he fucked you within an inch of your life. You felt David’s hand tangle into your hair, pulling at the roots with a firm grip. Another hapless whine left you, cunt clenching pathetically around his cock as he filled you to the brim, thrusts becoming a little more animalistic.

“David!” You cried, no longer able to see your vampiric paramour, but you could feel him. Even with your eyes closed, his voice reverberated throughout your mind, burnished-gold hues emblazoned into your brain like a hot brand. He fucked you senseless, chest bursting with a cacophony of growls and snarls.

It was almost overwhelming — your poor cunt was being pounded away at by David, who was eager to release for a second time. Your climax would be secondary, if he was feeling generous. You clawed at the sheets, grabbing it in fistfuls, hips pushing backwards into him. His fingers were so forceful, leaving behind angry imprints on your flesh.

You were desperate, body convulsing with pleasant spasms, legs struggling to keep yourself propped up. It all felt as if you were turning to mush, crawling with heat as David bit at your shoulder. He didn’t want to keep holding himself back, using your hair to roughly tug you backward. The firm musculature of his chest pressed into your back.

“You belong to me,” David snarled, sharp teeth mere centimeters away from the shell of your ear. They danced along your neck, hovering above your pulse point. It would’ve only taken one bite — he didn’t want to lose you so quickly. A turbulent wildfire of possessiveness surged inside of him, violent as ever as one of his palms clasped at your neck. “Say it!” He sneered.

A shiver passed through your body, lips parting as a myriad of needy, noisy moans escaped you. David forcefully parted your legs with one knee, grunting into your ear. The sounds were delicious — terrifying when you realized what he was. You could barely form the words, clutching onto his forearm.

David’s abrasive behavior might’ve been off-putting to many — but not to you. Deep down, it aroused you to no end, producing another wave of molten liquid within the pit of your belly, oozing between your thighs. “Going silent on me, kitten?” He chuckled, nipping at the sensitive flesh just beside your jugular. “Where’s that pretty voice of yours?”

Another whine tore past your parted lips as you sucked in a sharp breath, nearly crying out when his cock slapped away at your cunt. Any semblance of compassion had been exchanged for roughness and pure lust, as if you were a plaything for David. “I—I belong to you,” You slurred, attempting to move your hips in-tandem. “David, please!”

There would be no divide between you and David, no more distance. He’d keep you here in the cave, his precious mate, and when he felt like you were deserving of it, he’d make you like him — immortal, eternally trapped within a state of youth. You surrendered yourself completely, feeling him drive his cock into you again until he could go no further.

You were chasing after every sensation, set ablaze in the fire of David’s insatiable desire, gasping when his hand squeezed around your throat. The pressure caused you to shudder, cunt clenching around his length as you sought your release. When you sneakily attempted to shove your hand between your legs, he stopped entirely.

“What do we have here?” David admonished you, clicking his tongue with a mocking hint of disdain. “Trying to speed things up?” You felt cold, almost a little delirious as he simply dropped you onto the mattress, pulling himself from you. “If you’re so desperate, you can finish yourself, kitten.” He sneered, eyes a burnished amber, nearly a golden-red.

“Wh—Wait!” Being denied so close to your climax made you feel clammy, as if every wisp of air had been ripped from your throat. “D—David, I’m sorry! Please keep going!” You didn’t think he was serious, watching him stand at the foot of the bed, towering over you with a rather sardonic expression, full of rebuke.

“If you want to cum, you’ll have to beg.” David clicked his tongue, grabbing at your legs as he pulled you close again. “Why should I let you after that little stunt? Not good enough for you?” His voice surged with agitation, and you couldn’t discern if it was genuine or fabricated to fit his lust and appetite.

You nearly sobbed when he brushed his thumb over your clit, so feather-light that you wouldn’t have felt it if it weren’t for your constant squirming. “David, I — Please fuck me, please keep fucking me,” You babbled, tears stinging your eyes. The denial blistered through you, coupled with your own desperation to continue. He’d fucked you so good — it’d ruin you to stop now. “P—Please!”

David smirked, gazing down at you with a look of faux pity and want. Of course, he had no desire to simply abandon you here and now — but it was fun to play with you, poke and prod for a reaction. “You’re lucky, sweetheart.” He crooned, digits deliberately sliding across your clit again, causing you to let out a noisy whine.

“Please fuck me, please,” Your stammered, stumbling over your words as a coo of delight left you. “David, I need you.” With a trembling exhale, you continued to murmur something about wanting him. His laughter floated above your head, sinking into your very bones.

“Good girl.” David’s praise was spoken upon a silver tongue and dark eyes as he hastily shoved his cock back into your tight cunt, resuming the brutal pace he’d set before. You were on your back again, hapless beneath him as he railed you into a blissful oblivion.

He exuded dominance — he exuded a calculating control that you bent to, so very easily. David’s brow furrowed, countenance drawn into a look of rapture. He would never admit it, but he was thoroughly enamored with you, be it your sweet demeanor, your body, or your blood. Each thrust hit you hard, making you see stars.

One hand clutched the meat of your thigh, the other wrapped snugly underneath your throat, wedged against your jaw. He fucked you at a near-inhuman pace, rough and needy, causing you to part your legs just a little further for him. You huffed, a mess of moans and whimpers; his snarl was a familiar one.

David grunted, letting out a bestial hiss as he reached his peak, allowing himself to cum inside of you for a second or two, but that was painfully short-lived. His cock fell onto your stomach, painting your abdomen and breasts in ropes of hot, sticky seed. You shouldn’t have been so surprised — he got off on it.

His pearlescent grin glinted within the flickering candlelight as you came soon after, thanks to that generous caressing of his thumb pressing into your clit. You were spent, body spasming and quivering as you reached your peak, orgasm just as insanity-inducing as the last.

Warmth cascaded through you, goosebumps coalescing down the length of your spine when David caressed your jaw. He was stroking your silky flesh, head slightly cocked to one side as he watched you ride out your orgasm. You had gotten a little embarrassed, but he thought very little of it, peering towards the tattered remnants of your clothes.

“You’ll need something to wear.” David hummed, briefly correcting his attire as he found one of the many articles of clothing he’d collected in his immortal lifetime. It was a mahogany-hued sweater, something he lacked any attachment to, but you’d have his scent. He tossed it toward you, letting it land next to your head.

His callous behavior afterward was certainly something you’d have to get used to, but you decided to play one of the cards you had up your sleeve. “David,” You murmured, reaching for the ruined scraps of your dress to clean his cum off of you. “Come here?”

David paused, wondering if you were expecting a little tender, loving care afterwards. If that was what you wanted, it was best if you asked Paul or Dwayne. He decided to indulge you, stepping closer until he was back at your side again.

Wordlessly, you stood up, now shrouded in his sweater, which seemed entirely too big for you. He thoroughly reveled in that — your scent intermingled with his. It was a way to keep you close, now that you belonged to him. You rocked up onto your toes to kiss him, something that he reciprocated.

He felt your lips quirk into the ghost of a smile before you crawled back onto his mattress, both physically and mentally exhausted. David’s tongue swept across his teeth as he watched you lay down, and instead of leaving entirely, he turned, taking up residence in the rickety, velvet-cushioned chair he’d been in earlier.

As he struck his lighter, David placed the cigarette between his lips, ogling you across the way. It was difficult not to be a little soft on you — though, if you were to become an immortal, you had so much more to go. Initiation was far from over, but for now, he let you rest. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” He exhaled, tone saturated with an edge of mockery.

As sleep claimed you, your dreams were only filled with him — and that distant scent of blood.

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x you #tlb david x reader #tlb david x you #david tlb x reader #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys #the lost boys fanfiction #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher fandom #slasher x y/n #sunkendreams masterlist

382 notes · View notes

sweetsweetjellybean · 8 months

Text

A night out with friends turns into a surprise welcome home party for the man who broke your heart, Eddie Munson.

Masterlist Listen to Scar Tissue Here

What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago, with flashbacks at the beginning of each chapter. Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.

WC:5162. Beta'd by @superblysubpar

“Have a good day,” your mother calls out as you shut the front door to the gray clapboard-sided home that your parents had fallen in love with the moment they laid eyes on it. You hadn’t even gotten past the front steps before she appears in the doorway, pulling her purple terry-cloth robe tighter around her shoulders as she calls you back. “You don’t have to come right home after school,” she tells you, pressing a few folded bills into your hand, “Go out with your friends. Have some fun.”

“Thanks, Mom.” You muster up a smile, shoving the bills into the front pocket of your Levi's, certain they will end up in the ceramic pink elephant bank that sits atop your dresser, just like the money she gave you last week. She watches you walk down the steps, giving you a wave before she turns away, shutting the door behind her.

She tries her best, but she doesn't understand that friendships in the seventh grade aren't made as easily as they were in kindergarten, and you can't tell her that in the six weeks you've been enrolled at Hawkins Middle School, not a soul has spoken to you unless asked to by a teacher.

This was the life that your parents had chosen, a career that demanded constant relocation and upheaval. "It's an adventure," they'd tell you as your things were being packed into boxes. But the older you got, it felt less like an adventure and more like a test. A test to prove yourself over and over. There’s a phrase your mom has uttered so often over the years, that it's surprising it's not embroidered on the throw pillows. Bloom where you're planted. But here, in this town, you're only a weed in the garden.

Hawkins isn't any worse or better than any of the other ten places you've lived in the last seven years, but these kids have been together since birth and aren't eager to welcome newcomers into the flock. Pouring your efforts into being confident and friendly, projecting a cool and unbothered facade, the constant exposure has left you empty. The mask is too heavy, and you’ve been wearing it far too long. If this were one of the comics you kept in the box under your bed, you'd be discovering your superpower–Invisibility. They don't see you here, and maybe they never would.

The edges of folded bills in your pocket press into the meat of your thigh. Adding them to your total should give you enough for the new Elastica CD. With a bit of luck, you might be able to talk your dad into driving you to Tower Records in Indianapolis this weekend. A few houses away, the battered front door of a small yellow cape opens with a click and thud, drawing your attention. The house was more run-down than the others on this street. The grass was left to grow a little longer before being mowed, and a few nights a week, you could hear the yelling coming from inside before seeing the slow flash of lights of a cruiser parked in front.

A boy with curly shoulder-length hair bounds out from inside the house, slinging on his worn backpack as he hits the sidewalk.

Right on time this morning.

The scuff of your white Doc Martens falls in step with the crunch of his black Converse hitting the pavement. The chain running from his back pocket to his hip sways with his movements. It’s more of a determined bounce than a walk. Your eyes stay trained on the frayed holes of his Jansport, corners of textbooks and papers pushing through. You keep waiting for physics to kick in and the thing to give way entirely.

“Quit following me.”

His voice floats over his shoulder, shattering the quiet of the morning. Your head swivels from side to side, looking for whoever he is speaking to. His body turns until he’s walking backward, both hands gripping the straps of his backpack, casting his expectant brown eyes on you.

“Me?” You ask, touching your chipped painted fingernails to your chest.

“You’ve been following me for weeks, and it’s creepy.”

“I’m not following you,” you say incredulously, “We’re just going to the same place.”

“Well, walk on the other side of the street or something,” he says, turning back around, continuing on his way like he assumes you’ll comply.

“No.”

Your defiance comes out flat and solid, drawing a line, sick of him and this whole town.

“Yes,” the word comes back without a glance, utterly unbothered by your show of determination.

“No,” you repeat louder, your eyebrows pulling together in a scowl, “If you don’t like it, you walk over there.”

“I was here first.”

“Seriously?” The anger in your chest turns to heat, rising up your neck and settling in your face. Your mouth opens, ready to unleash the venom sitting on the tip of your tongue when he stops walking.

“Might as well walk beside me then.”

Surprise melts the words in your mouth as your feet carry you forward until you’re close enough to see the freckles covering his nose. His eyes stay forward as his stride lines up with yours, moving forward at a more relaxed pace. A light breeze rustles the leaves of the Maples lining the street. The sound of your footsteps is interrupted by the occasional passing car.

“You’re in seventh, right? You got Schnider?” He asks, his eyes darting to your face.

“Yeah.” You nod, looking down at your boots.

"Bad luck. She's a real bitch. I had her last year."

Answering with a shrug, you risk a look back at him. Long eyelashes framing big doe eyes, a sweet face he tries to hide with a hard shell. He wears a mask, too.

Your brain’s on overload for the rest of the day—thoughts of the boy coloring away the hours like a secret, overanalyzing every bit of your interaction. When the shrill sound of the final bell rings, you join the current of students, gathering your belongings and exiting the building in a wave.

The fresh air is a welcome escape from the stuffy classroom as you cross behind the school past the football field, heading toward the path through the woods where the boy is lingering just beyond the gate, digging through his pack but coming up with nothing like maybe he had been waiting. Without a word, he falls into step beside you. When you look at him, this time, he meets your eyes. The sunlight flickers through the swaying leaves as your footsteps resonate through the trees as you continue together.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," his voice cuts the quiet air when you reach the front steps of his house, his tone revealing a hint of uncertainty.

"I'll be headed the same way," you answer.

He turns away from you, pausing with his foot on the top step, looking up at his house before looking back at you.

"I'm Eddie, by the way," he offers, his cheeks pinking at the vulnerability his words carry.

"I know," you respond, a small smile gracing your lips as you continue home.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," you mutter, tucking your phone into your clutch and bolting up the marble steps to the second floor of the Kimpton Grey Hotel. Composing yourself as you pass through the lobby and open the double doors into Vol.39. The bar exudes timeless elegance with its dim, warm light shining on the dark-wood accents. Vintage jazz playing through hidden speakers, sounding like smoke and liquor. Everything here is steeped in leather, old money, and sophistication. It's no surprise that Nancy chose it.

"You're late," Nancy says flatly, no amusement in the blue eyes framed by the blunt cut of her black, sleek hair as she glances at her watch with disapproval.

"Sorry." You slide into the open seat on the tufted couch across from her, adjusting the material of your dark emerald midi skirt so the slit wouldn't be showing off too much thigh, "There was traffic." It definitely wasn’t the extra half hour you spent with your feet up on your desk at Stax listening to the new release from Band of Horses.

"This is Chicago. There's always traffic," she counters, keeping her voice low enough that it doesn't travel past the lit bookshelves lined with leather-bound encyclopedias framing the seating area that your friends are currently occupying. "That's why I gave you a time a week ago. So you could plan ahead."

"She’s in a mood," Argyle says from the corner of his mouth, his hair falling around him like a curtain as he leans closer from the velvet upholstered club chair beside you.

"Where's Steve?" Nancy demands, setting down her crystal tumbler on the gray marble table in the center of the space.

"He's not here?" you ask, scanning the bar. "It was Robin’s turn to watch him."

"Me?" Robin exhales from the other end of the couch she shares with Nancy.

"You're his best friend," you point out with a quirk of your brow.

"Yeah, but you're his–"

"I don't know why I bother to organize nights out for all of us if no one is going to be on time," Nancy cuts off Robin, huffing as she crosses her slender arms over her chest.

"It will be fine, Nance," Johnathan reassures, coming back from the bar carrying a flight of martinis he sets down in the center of the table. "Just relax. Everyone's going to be here in plenty of time." He takes the seat beside her, comforting her with his arm around her shoulder.

Nancy and Johnathan have been on again-off again since she left Hawkins for school in Boston. Rekindling their relationship when she moved to Chicago and accepted a position at Spectrum Media, where she still works as their vice-president of content strategy.

"Plenty of time for what?" You ask, leaning forward to choose a martini, picking the Astoria with a knot of lemon.

"There's a mystery guest," Robin says, wriggling her brows and hooking her thumb towards Nancy. “Full of surprises, isn't she?”

"Where's Flora tonight?" You ask Robin, noticing she is without an escort.

"Flora?" She asks, picking up a drink for herself, "That was over a week ago." She dismisses her with a wave of the hand before running it through her wavy blonde streaked locks, "Sadly, she left for a goat herding commune in Sacramento. I've been seeing someone new, a painter named Taylor. She's on exhibit at Magnolia. Her florals are really dreamy." She bites an olive off the end of her toothpick, sighing.

Smiling around the lip of your glass, you shake your head. Robin works as an exhibit coordinator for Magnolia Gallery in Wicker Park, falling in and out of love with artists as quickly as she sells their pieces. You give her credit, she's having fun.

"Did you text him?" Nancy asks, her lips twisting with impatience. The tense clench of her jaw has you setting down your drink and reaching for your clutch with no arguments. "Do you know how hard it was to get this reservation?"

"Then why are we here?" Argyle complains, gesturing around the room while he slumps back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass with the other. "You know I own like six bars, right? No reservations required."

"But then you'd be working," Nancy explains, as Argyle smoothes out his handlebar mustache.

"I'm always working, babe," Argyle says with a smirk, looking the part of a restaurateur and music promoter in his shiny flat-front trousers and short-sleeved silk shirt.

Argyle is a new friend - meaning not from Hawkins. The California transplant, whose family owns a chain of successful pizza restaurants, has breathed new life into the Chicago music scene. Booking up-and-coming acts as well as big names into his bars and venues all across the city. He's a good friend to have, especially in your line of work–a music journalist for Stax the city's premiere music, arts, and culture magazine.

“He’s on his way,” you inform them, setting your phone face down on the table before settling back on the couch.

“On his way or leaving now?” Nancy shakes her head, knowing with Steve it’s probably the latter. “Why didn’t you ride with him?” She asks, turning toward Jonathan.

“I wasn’t in the office today. I was on a shoot,” he says, pulling his arm away from her and setting his drink down harder than necessary, his patience with her at an end.

Jonathan, like you and Steve, works for the conglomerate Second City Media. Nancy likes to think that she permits the three of you to work for her competitor, but Steve had already gotten his foot in the door, securing himself an entry-level position at Metro Sports division before she was even out of grad school. Jonathan had been doing alright freelancing as a photographer, but when Nancy started at Spectrum, Second City recognized their competitor would wind up with an edge and hired him on as full-time staff. Everyone knows it's better for their relationship not to be working in the same place, especially with Nancy as his boss.

“Give us some clues about this mystery guest,” Robin interjects to lower the temperature between the couple, which is ready to boil over.

"Okay, I'm here." Steve comes from behind you, his voice alerting you to his arrival before you see him. His tie is already missing, the first three buttons of his starched shirt undone beneath his midnight blue suit, and his hair tousled from a day of running his hands through.

"Really, Steve? You couldn't be on time just this once?" Nancy scolds him, rolling her eyes.

"Meeting ran late. You know how it is," he leans down to kiss her cheek,"Or maybe you don't. I heard things are a bit slow over there at Spectrum," he teases, earning a smirk from Johnathan.

Steve worked his way up from the sports division to chief content officer for Second City Media. The position puts him just shy of the power Nancy holds at Spectrum, fueling the pair's competitive and ambitious nature until their bickering often drives everyone else crazy.

"Steve," Robin draws his attention before Nancy gets the chance to respond, "About tomorrow–"

"Just a minute, Robin. I haven't gotten to kiss my beautiful wife hello." He steps over Argyle's legs and gives the man a quick handshake in greeting before sitting next to you on the sofa.

"I'm not your wife yet, handsome," you tell him as his strong hands cup your cheeks, tipping your head up toward him.

"But it sounds good, doesn't it?" He asks before soft lips close over yours, his thumb pressing on your chin, asking for access to deepen the kiss beyond the line that's appropriate in front of company.

"Niiiice," Argyle hums as the others snicker. Steve takes a hand off your cheek, holding it in front of you to block some of their views as his mouth moves hotly over yours.

"God, you two are sickening," Nancy's remark is probably accompanied by an eye roll, but you're too occupied to notice as you tighten your grip on the front of Steve's shirt, drawing him nearer.

Four of his fingers curl down, giving Nance a one-fingered message as he continues to kiss you until he's had his fill. Breaking away with a gentle peck. "How was your day today, Ace? Did you write me a Pulitzer?"

"You ask me that every day."

Despite teasing you, he wouldn't be surprised if you had what it takes. That's how much he believes in you. He takes your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips to place a kiss next to the glittering diamond he put on your hand a little over two years ago.

"Excuse you." Robin climbs over Argyle's legs that are still stretched out in front of him, taking up all the space between the chairs and the table, and walks over to the couch, squeezing her way onto the sofa between you and Steve, "Best friend privileges." She winks before launching into a conversation about the next exhibit she's putting together.

"You two crazy kids set a date yet?" Argyle asks at a volume higher than you'd prefer. Raising your index finger to your lips, eyebrows drawing together as your eyes flick over to Steve.

"I'm just making sure my invite didn't get lost in the mail," he says, sipping his drink. "I love weddings, man—all those tiny little versions of regular-sized food. Maybe I should open a restaurant like that, where everything is tiny. Tiny little kebabs and tiki drinks with tiny little umbrellas. I don't know what's taking you so long. You need to make an honest man out of him." His voice grows louder at the end of his sentence, earning him another look from you, a distraction that diverts Steve's attention from his conversation.

The waitress chooses that moment to appear, saving you from another conversation about setting a wedding date. It's not that you don't want to marry him–you do. Someday. Decisiveness has never been your strong suit, along with dressing up in big puffy dresses that look like frosting and being on display for everyone you have ever known and their plus ones.

While Steve squints down at the drink menu, fondness warms you like the opening notes of your favorite song. Reaching across Robin, you tap his chest. He looks over at you as he pulls a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and slides them on his nose.

Your lips move without sound–I love you.

You too, he mouths back. His mossy eyes softening as he smiles just for you.

You're happy. Why change a thing?

“I’ll have an old-fashioned. Top shelf. Please,” Steve tells the waitress after she had gone around taking orders for small plates to share and more cocktails from the others. “Another Martini?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yes, please. An Astoria,” you tell her as she finishes scribbling everything down on her pad and heads off toward the bar to put in your orders.

“The ladies?” You tip your head at Robin, who nods, getting up to follow you. Steve squeezes your hand as you walk by as he continues his conversation with Nancy about the effectiveness of paywalls on digital content.

“God, she’s in rare form,” Robin comments as you enter the empty ladies' room, each of you closing yourself into a stall.

“Are she and Jonathan fighting again?” You ask once you’ve finished up and moved to the sink to wash your hands. The echo of your voices bouncing off the black and white hexagon tiles.

“When aren’t they fighting?” She pulls a few paper towels from the machine bolted to the wall and drys her hands. “It’s like foreplay for them at this point.”

You laugh, checking under your eyes for make-up smears. “Any ideas about this mystery guest?”

“No idea.” She tugs the brass handle of the door open, and you follow her back into the bar. “Maybe her brother?”

“That would be nice,” you say, your boot heels tapping on the dark chevron floors, “He just got married, right?”

“So young, practically still a baby,” she tuts, her head shaking from side to side.

“Robin, he’s not that-”

Robin's hand clamps onto your forearm, a squeal escaping her mouth as excitement radiates through her. She bounces on her toes, leaving you in her wake. Whoever elicited such a reaction is being blocked by Steve and Jonathan. When she gracefully maneuvers past them, you catch a fleeting glimpse of dark curls before the two men shift back into place, obscuring your view once more. The clinking of glasses and chatter from the other patrons swells in your ears. Your feet carry you forward, curiosity resonating like the reverb of a guitar. Steve feels you coming up behind him and shifts to the side. Without warning, rich chocolate eyes are locked onto yours. Eyes you haven’t seen in eleven years when he left you a mixtape instead of a goodbye. The eyes of the man that shattered your heart into so many pieces, all the edges are still sharp.

“Hey, doll.”

The breath trapped in your lungs forms a suffocating bubble, its dull, aching pressure stifling any movement in or out, causing your body to lock in protest. You're tugged forward, unable to fight it, until your body collides with his. The faint but familiar scent of him embraces you, lingering beneath the spicy notes of expensive cologne. Triggering a flood of a hundred painful memories, like songs you’ve overplayed and can’t bear to hear again. They jar your instincts into overriding the shock, compelling you to push him away. Eddie's solid frame absorbs the force. To your relief, the others haven't noticed as you retreat to your seat. Your trembling hand raises your martini to your lips, taking larger swallows than you normally would, but nothing with this situation is normal.

"Desperate times," you mutter under your breath, tipping back your glass. By the time everyone has settled back into their seats, your martini glass stands drained, the lingering taste of its contents bittersweet on your tongue.

Steve directs the waitress to bring another drink for you and a double Mescal for Eddie. The others' voices are a distant buzz in your ears, but their words don't breach the barrier of your thoughts. The chords playing in your mind are more discernible now. Their lyrics printed onto the faded photographs of a boy that you struggle to reconcile as the man before you. He's older, but you are too. His long hair is much shorter, the dark curls a richer brown pushed away from his face. A few lines grace the corners of his eyes and forehead–a reminder of the life he's lived without you.

Steve's comforting hand wraps around your shoulders while the other finds a home sliding between the soft skin where your legs are crossed, exposed by the high slit of your skirt. Eddie's eyes are on you, his stare focused on Steve's big hand covering half your thigh. Your left hand moves on top of Steve's, adjusting to make sure the sparkling rock on your finger gleams with brilliance in the soft, ambient light.

"Well, this is a blast from the past," Robin notes, her voice full of whimsy as she dangles her cocktail glass between two fingers, swaying it gently like a pendulum.

"Aren't you all glad I forced you to come out?" Nancy quips, much more relaxed now that her plan has come to fruition.

"You did good, love," Johnathan murmurs. His fingers tangling with hers before giving her a quick peck.

"Absolutely. I wouldn't have wanted to miss this," Steve agrees, "How long has it been, dude? Three, four years?"

"Yeah, I think that was the last time you were in L.A." Eddie scratches at his chin, covered with just enough scruff to almost be a beard.

Steve keeps in touch with Eddie? Had he told you when you hadn't been paying attention to him, your mind wandering with the words you would write for other people's songs?

"Now, I know that I told you only old friends," Nancy says, angling herself towards the plaid upholstered chair that Eddie occupies. "But Argyle knows all the local talent, and I thought he'd be a good connection to have since you're moving here."

"What?" You ask, as if a sudden vacuum has just sucked the air from the room.

"You're moving here?" Robin's eyes light up with excitement at the prospect of all her friends in the same city. She was the original connection that brought you together all those years ago.

"When you say here. You mean Hawkins, right? You're moving back to Hawkins," you clarify.

"No. I mean here. I'm moving to Chicago," Eddie says, leaning back into his chair, his long legs spread in his tailored black suit, the black v-neck underneath giving off a laid-back California vibe. "I told those corporate studio fucks I was done. I'm opening my own place to record music that's actually good, not just the kind that will sell. I'm surprised you don't know all this, doll. Isn't it supposed to be your job or something?"

“Fu–”

"Why Chicago?" Jonathan asks, cutting you off before you let loose a very appropriate response to his question, "Why not stay in L.A. or New York. Aren't there music scenes bigger than here?"

Eddie tips his head to the side, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. "You know, L.A.'s lost its charm for me. Too many fake people made out of plastic. And, well, Wayne's not getting any younger. Thought it's about time to be closer, you know?"

“You'd be much closer in Hawkins. Bet you could find a place downtown real cheap. You should go look there.” You cross your arms over your chest, drawing a line in the sand.

“Hawkins doesn’t really scream rock ‘n’ roll, and I already got a place, but thanks,” he says, unconcerned as ever by your tone.

“Look at you two,” Robin says, clapping her hands, “Just like old times, back to your usual banter." Her mischievous grin widens, "Remember when she had that massive crush on you, Eddie? You’d stroll into Musicland during our shift, and she’d follow you around with those big heart eyes.”

Your ears ring as heat rushes up to your neck to your cheeks,the whole world spinning. Eddie looks down, swirling the remnants of gold liquid in his crystal-cut glass.

“You’re exaggerating, Robin,” you sputter, reaching for your drink, hiding behind the lip of the glass, “We were just friends. And it couldn’t have been too major. I don’t even remember it.”

“Oh, come on,” she protests, “Everybody knew.”

"I didn't," Steve's voice cuts through her teasing, leaving an awkward stillness in its wake. The distant sounds of high-pitched laughter and the faint scrape of utensils against plates fill the void. Your friends exchange uncomfortable glances, even though there was no malice in his tone.

“Hey, it’s no big deal, though,” his smile puts everyone at ease. “Right, Ace?” His head dips, brushing your lips in confirmation. You nod as he continues, “Robin, remember when we both went on dates with the same girl. What was her name? Brenda.” His fingers snap with the recollection.

“That’s right, Brenda! Brenda Mackenzie!” Robin laughs and begins to regale the group with the story.

When you lift your eyes, Eddie’s stare remains fixed on you, amusement replaced with an intensity you can’t read. An unfinished sentence or lyric. Words hanging between you like a question that you can't answer—one that you don’t want to.

“I’m going for another drink,” you say to Steve, picking up your empty glass.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He asks, brows drawing together.

“No, I’m okay,” you tell him with a plastered-on smile, “You want anything?”

He shakes his head no. “I let my car service go early. I’ll drive us home in your car.”

With gentle fingers, you sweep aside a stray lock of hair that's draped across his forehead, planting a tender kiss on his lips before making your way to the bar.

There is a soft creak of the leather as you seat yourself on a high stool in front of the polished wood bar. A bartender with an easy smile takes your order and leaves, giving you a much needed moment alone. Your lungs expand and contract without releasing any tension. You study your reflection in the mirror behind the rows of brightly lit bottles. If you could rewind the tape to a few hours ago, you'd have happily stayed in your office. Calling Nancy tomorrow to grovel for forgiveness for messing up her plans. But you can’t and the song plays on. It’s always the music that hurts the worst.

You release an audible sigh, your breath escaping through parted lips, as he settles onto the stool beside you. With a casual tap of his rings against the bar, he signals for the bartender, raising a single finger, his tongue peeks out, grazing his bottom lip as he gestures toward his empty glass.

"What’s the matter, doll? You really that unhappy to see me?" Eddie drawls, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"It’s been eleven years, Eddie. Sorry I’m not organizing a parade." You settle back into your seat, glancing around as if you're bored.

The bartender lowers his eyes as they deliver your drinks and wisely retreats to the far end of the establishment.

"I didn’t come here to fight," Eddie replies, his tone softening. He shifts his weight slightly on the stool, one arm resting casually on the counter, the glint of a gold chain around his neck catching the dim light.

"Then why are you here?" Your eyes narrow as your fingers trace the condensation on the side of the full glass.

"A fresh start. To build something of my own." He looks at you with determination, his dark eyes reflecting the soft glow of the bar lights.

"Then build it somewhere else," you respond curtly, your words laced with frustration. You pick up your drink and down half of it in one go, the chilled liquid leaving a slight burn as it slides down your throat. Setting the glass back down, you turn to leave.

He stops you with a gentle hand wrapping around your wrist, his touch causing your pulse to quicken beneath his fingertips. "There are some things I want to say to you. Let me take you to lunch unless Harrington has got you on too short of a leash."

You pull your wrist back, the feel of his touch lingering like smoke in the air. "Whatever you have to say has waited this long, try again in another decade. Unless you're dying."

"Would it make a difference if I was?" He meets your gaze with amusement playing on his lips.

"Let me think about it… nope." Your reply is quick and sharp, meant to cut.

"I know you're mad–"

"No. Mad would imply some kind of emotional attachment. What I feel is indifference. In case you don't know the definition, that means nothing at all." Your voice stays cool and detached as you hop off the stool. "It's a big city, Eddie. There's no reason we have to see each other again."

"We'll have to see about that," he smirks.

"Have a nice life," you say a final goodbye to your past and turn away, walking in the direction of Steve when he stops you with one more question.

"Did you listen to it? The tape, did you ever listen?"

The lie comes without hesitation.

“No.”

Follow @tornupdates & turn on notifications

Read Song 2. here

AN: I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it. If you have a song that you think Eddie would have recorded on the mixtape send it to me in an ask and it might be included. Anything before 2001. I'd love to hear from you. Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated.

#steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #torn series #torn #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #Spotify

495 notes · View notes

aesthetic-bbyg · 10 months

Text

CHIQUITITA ~ Miguel O.

Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

He’s your dads best friend, and he’s suppose to be nothing more then that, but you two can’t seem to get enough of eachother.

SMUT ~ oral (fem receiving), lots of smirking, Miguel be a lil perv nd watching the reader change, lots of flirting nd pet names!

Miguel O’hara your dads best friend, was staying with your family for a few weeks. You were already familiar with the man, he watched you grow up into the young adult you are today. He celebrated with you when you got into you’re dream college, he let you have you’re first sip of alcohol and never told you’re father, he always said that you were his favorite out of all your siblings.

The same man you’ve had around you’re whole life was also the same man you’d thought about at night when your fingers were shoved into your panties, rubbing desperately at the bundle of nerves. Miguel was the same man who stole sneaky glances at you, watching as you passed by him in a mini skirt, or eye fucking you whenever he could, all while thinking that you didn’t know.

You weren’t stupid, there was definitely a sexual tension that grew when the occasional joking comment turned a bit flirty. It was always a rush between the two of you whenever the commonly repeated words, what if someone catches us is chanted as he kisses your soft lips. Miguel was the man you’ve always dreamt of, but you knew that nobody could ever know of the actions that happened whenever you’re father was locked up in his office, working on some project.

There’s a sharp knock on your bedroom door, followed by that smooth, familiar voice you’ve grown fond of. Miguel’s tall frame caught your sight as he slowly opened the door. “Hola, chiquitita, I’m going down to the pool.” He stepped into the room already in his swim shorts, a towel and sunblock in his hand. “Do you want to come with me?”

You sat up and forgot about the phone in you’re hand, “You know I’d never turn down an offer to swim, Miggy.”

“Muy bien, then come here and help me put sunscreen on my back, mi vida.” Miguel smirked as he watched you stand from the bed.

You pulled him into your room, shutting the door and grabbing the bright bottle from his hand, you feigned a annoyed. “Siempre necesitando mi ayuda.”

Miguel chuckled as the door was shut, he didn’t protest you shutting it, he’d been waiting for a moment to be alone with you. “Well, are you gonna help me, chiquitita?” He moved close, his breath lightly caressing your neck. He always knew how to get you red as a cherry, it fed his ego whenever you cowered under his gaze.

“Turn around.”

Miguel turned around, his shirtless body always amazed you, he was a large, muscular man that liked to keep in shape. His skin was beautifully tanned, his body covered in tattoos, a few new scratches and bruises. You opened the bottle of sunscreen and gently smeared it on his muscly back, you were right where he wanted you, your touch against his skin causing him to shiver slightly. You neatly manicured fingers trailed throughout his back, making sure to get sunscreen all along his back, your hands even lingering occasionally as you subtly his massaged back.

Miguel’s breath caught in his throat, he resisted letting out a groan, your lingering fingers made his body tingle. The manicured hands that he paid for running up and down him made him squirm. He was powerless to your touch, even with all the muscles, his mind racing to imagine other scenarios. The smell of sunscreen filled the room as Miguel closed his eyes, forcing himself to not ask you to keep touching him. You could feel him tense up when you pulled your hands away, rubbing the access sunscreen on your arms.

“I need change into my bathing suit, but you’re returning the favor and helping me put on sunscreen too okay?” You pointed a finger at him as he turned around, smirking like a smug little shit.

“Buenos pues, chiquitita.” Miguel chuckled, trying to hide just how much your touch turned him on. “Gracias, by the way.“ he stepped out the room, but you left the door wide open, honestly not caring if he watched or not. He waited just outside, though from the angle he was standing at a mirror reflected all the was going on inside. He kept an eye on your as you undressed and put on the skimpy bikini, you knew what you were doing. His eyes glued to you in the reflection, his focus mainly on your body as you tied on the bikini top, tits beautiful displayed. When you finally came out of the room, he straightens up his posture and whistled. “You look good in that, chiquitita.”

You let out soft giggles, twirling swiftly to give him a full view, “Gracias, no soy la niñita que era.” You held out the bottle, a smirk on your face.

Miguel chuckled as he took the sunscreen from your hands and started applying it to your body.“No, you aren’t little anymore. You’re a woman that I’ve watched grow up, but you’ll always be mi hermosa chiquitita.” He was careful and gentle, making sure to take his time with it. The mix between his words and the movement of his hands made you flustered. Miguel knew what he was doing. Once he finally finished applying the sunscreen he leaned down and kissed your cheek. “Let’s go to the pool. We’ve already spent too much time inside.” He allowed you to step front of him, “Las chiquititas primero.”

You chuckled softly, “Gracias, papi.”

Miguel smirked but didn’t acknowledge the remark. Instead, he just laughed as he trailed behind you, your bikini accentuating your body. His eyes fell on your ass, you confident strides down the hallway and stairs making him hold back on reaching over to grab it. You could feel his eyes and it only made you smirk. “Enjoying the view, Miggy?”

Miguel laughed softly, his face flush. “How do you know it’s you that has me distracted?” Miguel shrugged as you opened the sliding door, his mind racing when you continued to walk in front of him.

“Don’t think I don’t see where your eyes are looking, plus you’ve got a little drool just right there.” You teased, pointing at the corner of his mouth with a smile. You put down the towel and sunglasses on one of the chaise lounge chairs.

He looked down at the pool and back at you, hiding his smile, he didn’t want to admit that you were completely right. He opted on teasing you back, “Little diablita. If you keep teasing me like that, I’ll have to do something about it.”

“Oh yeah, and what would that be.” You challenged, walking closer to him as you smirked.

Miguel copied the smirk on your lips, looking down at them, so plump and pink just for him. “Would it be wrong for me to kiss that smartass, teasing mouth of yours chiquitita?”Miguel moved closer, closing the little space between the two of you.

“Only if ya get caught, papi.”

Miguel’s smirk widened. He looked down at your face for a second, deciding whether he should care if he gets caught or not. He moved his head to your ear and whispered, knowing it was one of your weaknesses. “Well maybe I don’t care about getting caught right now.” Miguel’s breath was warm against you as his free hand gently pulling you towards him.

You grinned, he was right on the edge of the pool, in the perfect position, your hands were planted on his muscly chest. You had an idea. “Oh yeah?” Before he could come up with another teasing reposen you pushed his body and watched as he fell into the water, a splash of water followed after.

Miguel went from smug and proud, to confused and shocked in a matter of seconds. As he fell into the pool he hissed, cold water quickly soaking his body. You could see his annoyed expression when his head popped up from the water. “Maldita sea!” His face dripping in water, he turned to you as your giggling filled his ears. “Estas loca.” He chuckled, admiring you despite you’re cruel actions.

“Loosen up, papi, nomas es un poco de agua.” You made your way towards the steps of the pool, slowly dipping in one foot at a time. You understood why Miguel got so agitated, the water wasn’t the warmest, it made goosebumps spread throughout your body. Nonetheless you continued on in. You looked towards Miguel you watched your figure as the water reached your waist. His eyes trailed up to your hardened nipples that poked through the fabric of the bikini top.

You’d began to shiver, Miguel sighed and resisted the urge to hold you close. He looked down at your goosebump covered body as you made your way towards him. You reached a hand out towards him, attempting to conceal the slight tremble in your lip from the cold. Miguel took your hand and chuckled, kissing your knuckles. “Tienes frío?”

You nodded, “Y tu no?”

“You’ll get use to it, chiquitita.” You huffed and pulled him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist, you hands coming up to grip his shoulders. Miguel’s eyes widened at your sudden action, it wasn’t what he expected, but he wasn’t disappointed in the slightest, he’d already melted at your touch and went back to o being smug. He wrapped his arm around you, the other one going down to grip your ass he’d been so desperately wanting to squeeze. His mind racing with so many thoughts. “What if someone sees us like this?”

“What happened to not caring if we get caught, hmm?” You smirked, leaning your head back and allowed the water to soak up into your hair, your neck exposed to his wandering eyes.

Miguel chuckled as you leaned back, his lips brushing against your neck briefly. “Well if we continue like this then we’re going to get caught doing more then just being in each others arms.“ He teased your ear with his hot breath, his arms still wrapped around your body. He was feeling bold and decided to press his bulge against your clothed core.

You gasp softly, the grip on his shoulders tightening, you rose your head back up and looked at him. “You’re so hot, y’know that, papi?

Miguel’s muscles tensed up again as he felt your grip tighten on his shoulders, smug smirk painted on his lips. “Gracias, chiquitita.” he chuckled, “You’re pretty hot yourself.”

His eyes were looking at you intensely, not being able to look away. They were locked on your lips, your body, every part of you had Miguel feeling things he was never ready for. You could see it in his fierce eyes, the way his bit his lip, the way he squeezed the soft flesh of your ass.

“Bésame, Miggy.” You wanted to sound confident, like you had control, but the way the fraise left your lips was like a plead. “I know you want to.”

Miguel’s face was flushed and his heart was pounding out of his chest. Hearing you say those words, he couldn’t say no. He wanted to kiss you, he wanted to drown in your lips. He wanted this more than he’d ever wanted anything before. He knew it was wrong, it was filthy kissing the daughter of his longest friends, but it felt so good to have you in his arms. He smiled softly, pulling you closer to him, if it was even possible. Miguel’s lips gently touched yours, kissing you passionately. The water around you seemed to have warmed up suddenly, you no longer shivered but instead basked in the warmth. Your wet hand cupped his face as you leaned your head to the side, deepening the messy kiss, tongues intertwined in a battle for dominance.

Miguel was in a haze with your lips pressed against his, he was losing himself, every other thought leaving his mind except you. He felt your wet fingers running through his hair, tugging occasionally as you let out sweet sounds.

“I have a feeling that we’re going to end up doing more then just swimming today, papi.” You smirked teasingly, pulling away from the kiss, watching as a single string of salvia connected your lips. Miguel chuckled, biting his lip as his heart still pounded from the kiss. You were right, he already knew what else both of you would do and he knew would be dirty. It consumed his mind, the thought of your head stuffed into a pillow as he pounded from behind made the boner in his shorts so much more painful.

The pulled away from his arms, extending out your legs to swim across the pool. Dunked your head, letting your face meet the cool, chlorine filled water. You turned and caught Miguel looking at you, a smile on his face. “Are you going to make me chase you chiquitita?” He smirked. “Cause that is a game you won’t win.”You squealed as his quick figure swam towards, trapping you in the deep end of the pool, the part where not even the tip of your toes could reach. His strong arms reached to grip your waist, keeping you up, you huffed and rolled your eyes. “Gotcha, now, chiquitita.”

“That wasn’t a fair fight, Miggy, let me go.” You whined, pushing at his chest, though you knew that Miguel wouldn’t budge.

“If I let you go you’ll drown, this is the six foot part of the pool.” Miguel smirked, knowing that he had you trapped and wouldn’t release you no matter how much you begged.

“I can swim.”

“Doggy paddling across the pool isn’t enough proof that you survive this deep.” He remarked, raising a brow as you rolled your eyes. “Drop the attitude, chiquitita.”

“Or what?”

Miguel pushed your bodies to the end of the pool, he propped you up on the ledge, your wet bottom soaking into concrete. You looked down, nervously watching as he pried your legs open, his face right where you always wanted him to be. “So quiet now, aren’t you diablita?”

You perched an eyebrow up, swallowing the lump in your throat, “Not afraid of getting caught, huh, Miggy?”

“I believe you should be the one that’s scared of being caught, Chiquitita, I mean look at you. Spreading your legs desperately like a dirty whore for your dads bestfriend?” Miguel smirked, shaking his disapprovingly, “I’ll have you begging me to eat this pretty cunt.”

You were far too stubborn to give in, “Why would I have to beg when I know you want to, you’re dying for it, aren’t you, papi?”

He let out a low chuckle, you weren’t sure if you were suppose to be terrified or relieved, either way, you were getting water by the moment and need something. Anything. “You caught me, chiquitita, but it doesn’t mean I’ll give in so easily. Even if I’m ‘dying’ for it.”

You let out an annoyed sigh, throwing your bed back as you heard Miguel’s chest vibrate in laughter at your antics. “Eres tan enfadoso, sabias? I might just have to leave and go fuck my fingers into this cunt since you’re being such an asshole about this.”

“Frustrated aren’t we?” Miguel rested his hands on you’re thighs, spreading them apart further to get a view of your pussy, despite it being covered by your floral bathing suit bottom. “You fuck yourself thinkin’ of me?”

You rested against one hand, behind you, the other one creeped towards you bottoms. “Mhmm, since such a whore I fuck myself nearly every night, imaging it was your cock.” He watched as you lowered your hand, you’re fingers teasing your clit for a few moments before it began to pump in and out of your wet hole. “Just like this.”

Miguel had to force back a moan, watching you writhe, him such inches away from you as your eyes such in pleasure. “Do you call out my name?”

“Fuck, yes—Miguel, yes.” As you moaned out his name he suddenly reached for your wrist, tightly squeezing it as an uncontrollable desire burned in his dark pupils.

“Enough.” He growled, forcing you to drag your fingers out of you, a quiet huff passing your lips. “It’s my turn, chiquitita.” His senses were fogged up with lust, he could feel his mouth watering already as he pushed the fabric of your bikini bottom to the side. The sight of your dripping pussy practically called his name, he glanced up at you awaiting approval.

“Por favor, papi.” You whined, lifting a hand to run through his wet hair, it didn’t take a him a second to dive in. His pink tongue already out and licking at your clit teasingly before his pretty lips sucked on it. He was getting pussy drunk at the taste of your juices, eating you out like a mad man. His hands coming up to hook around your thighs and squeeze them, also making sure that they were kept apart.

“Fucking hell, chiquitita, you taste so good.” He grumbled, the muffled vibrations of his voice barley processing in your brain as you let out a pathetic whine in response. “No boy can ever eat this cunt like I can.” You tugged in his hair tighter, eyes screwed shut and your mouth hung open. Miguel never removed his eyes off you, it was the part of his face you could see, his nose bumped into your clit while his tongue worked wonders, insetting itself into your dripping hole.

The sounds were filthy, you could hear a continuous squelch of your wet cunt already enough to expose you if anyone came home. If that wasn’t loud, then maybe your moans would definitely alert a neighbor or two. Yet, you couldn’t seem to focus on anything else then the piercing brown eyes that gazed up at you, so soft and loving despite his dirty actions. His mouth pushing more and more to the edge, your breathing was quick, someone could’ve assumed that you’d just ran a mile but it was just because of Miguel O’hara’s mouth.

“Asi, asi!” You moaned out, legs beginning to tighten around his head, you eyes breaking away from his as you threw your hand back once more. Your hips began to grind against his face, he chuckled at your desperation, the vibrations of the noise enough to make you cum. “Fuck, Miguel!” You let out one last, pornographic moan before you spilled into his inviting mouth, you twitched as he licked you up, making sure to get every last drop you had to offer before he pulled away. His whole chinned drenched in your cum and arousal, it made you blush, but he only smirked. He wiped it away with the back of his veiny hand before he leaned up to kiss you, his tongue tasted of you.

“Estas bien, chiquitita?” He muttered softly, pulling away from the kiss and trialing them down your from your cheek, to your jaw and then to your neck. You hummed in response, twisting the dark curls around your finger as pulled back to look at you. It was his favorite thing to do, especially after you came. You eyelids half open, a doopy smile unconsciously stretching on your lips, and how soft your voice was.

The sound of the sliding door opening caused you to jump, Miguel suddenly sinking himself into the water and sailing to the opposite side of the pool. Your father walked into the yard, a big grin on his face. “Mi amor, what are you doing out here?”

“Uh..j-just trying to get a tan.” You stuttered out, subtly adjusting your bottom as you stared up at your dad innocently.

“Be sure to wear lots of sunscreen, you don’t want to end up like me, old and wrinkly.” He let out a chuckle, glancing over at his best friend who was mindlessly swimming around, completely ignoring what just occurred moments ago. “Miguel, cómo está la alberca?”

“Perfecta.” Miguel replied, “We still on for that cookout tonight?”

“You know it, I actually just got back from el super y agarre la carne.” Your father was so clueless, you almost pitied him for be so blind of the tension between you two. “Be ready by six, mija, todas tus tías vienen a verte.”

You gave him a bright smile, nodding in response as he walked back into the home, sliding the door shut behind him. Your eyes drifted back to Miguel who’s already began to exit the pool, his toned body dripping of the chlorinated water. His pushed away the strands of hair that covered his eyes before reaching for his red and blue towel. It made you squeeze your legs together, a new wave of arousal hitting you once more. He came towards you, a bright pink towel in his hand and a smug smirk on his face.

As you stood he draped the material onto your shoulders, let it protect you from the slight breeze that blew over the city. “Gracias.” You mumbled, quietly walking back inside but before you could place a hand on the door handle Miguel gripped your elbow.

His tall figure leaned down, hot breath grazing over the shell of your ear. “If you ever need me to fuck your pretty pussy when your fingers can’t satisfy you, give me a call chiquitita.” He placed a kiss on your cheek, leaving you to process his words.

authors note: MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN😍😍😍😍 btw I was too lazy to do the translation IM SORRY I love y’all tho🫶🏼

#Miguel O’Hara x reader #2099 Spider-Man #smut #Miguel O’Hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #Miguel O’Hara x you #across the spider verse #I love this man so much oml #this man makes me feel things #astv x reader

575 notes · View notes

smiley-babe · 1 year

Text

feral

Wolfhybrid!Bakugo x Reader

nsfw/ MDNI 18+

Warnings: afab reader, aged up characters, lowkey monster fucking (hybrid bakugo has wolf ears, a tail, and fangs), knotting, HUGE breeding kink, no specific dynamics, biting, small blood kink (if you squint), marking/ bonding, heat/ rut behavior, panty sniffing, kind of rough sex, oral (f receiving), and fingering

Summary: Taking in a wolf hybrid already didn’t seem like a good idea, but when spring hits… all hell breaks loose.

Wc: 4.6k

An: Happy Birthday my sweet Kacchan!!!

Taking in a damaged wolf hybrid stray was totally not on your bucket list. But your kind heart wouldn't allow you to leave him outside when it's on the brink of snowing.

It took a couple days after you initially saw him to catch him. His eyes are full of fear but he looks quite scary with his blonde ears pulled back as he snarls at you.

At first you weren't going to keep him but every shelter was either full or wasn't taking in such aggressive hybrids. With a sigh you glance at him again. He's dirtying up your couch by laying facedown on it, an annoyed pout on his face.

"Bath time, dirty boy." The hybrid scoffs and keeps his gaze away from you. With a little encouragement, from some beef jerky, you get him into the tub. His body is scarred, most likely from fighting, and he flinches when you touch him.

He suddenly grabs your wrist when trying to wash his lower abdomen. "Don't touch," he snarls. His vermillion eyes pierce into yours.

"Wash there then. I'll clean your face." You give him the loofah and grab a rag to clean the dirt off his face. The scowl never leaves his face, dirty or clean.

What you learn soon enough is that your new hybrid is a biter. He nips and bites if you do something he doesn't like. Not enough to draw blood but enough for it to hurt and warn you there'll be consequences if you keep doing what you're doing. He doesn't like to be pet. He doesn't like when you sit next to him. Lastly, he absolutely despises the collar you bought him. It's just a simple red collar with a bone shaped tag.

"C'mon Kacchan. Let me put it on." Since he refuses to tell you his name you gave him a nickname. Whenever you manage to get him to speak it's mostly explosive, hence the name.

"Get that shit away from me!," he growls, baring his teeth at you. You really didn't need any more bites.

"What if you get lost?"

He's quick to quip back, "Not like you wanted me anyways."

You sigh. "Please Kacchan?"

"Stop callin' me that dammit!," he groans.

"Then for God's sake tell me your name!" He's quiet now, looking away from you. He's met his match. You're just as stubborn as him.

The response is quiet but it makes you smile. "It's Katsuki. Now leave me alone." You're slowly cracking his hard exterior.

After that moment Katsuki slowly started to warm up to you. He seldom bit you anymore, resorting to glaring or growling if he didn't like something. Some nights he would sit next to you on the couch while you worked a little late to finish a project for work. His tail would wag slightly when you place a hand on his head.

There were days when he would wait at the door for you to come home. When you were late he would grumble out, "took you long enough." On the inside he was relieved you returned home to him. His words often contradicted how he really felt. The hybrid always complained that you got on his nerves and that he doesn't even like you. But you don't miss the way his tail thumps and his eyes close when your hand caresses the back of his pointed ears.

Katsuki has also grown accustomed to your bed. He starts off on his own side of the bed but his body ends up gravitating to yours. His nose is nuzzled into your neck and his strong arms hold you to his warm body. It's very cute to you.

The weather is starting to warm a bit and Katsuki grows worried for two reasons. One, he thinks you're going to kick him to the curb now that it's not shivering cold. Two, his body is going through a change. He's not sure how he's going to act if he ends up staying. When he's far enough from women it's not so bad to manage. But you're here. And he kind of likes you, likes your scent. Sometimes you look really pretty after a shower and in your pajamas. The blonde knows he's in trouble already.

Something sour would stir in him when you came back smelling like another man. "Where've you been?," he grumbles.

You shrug off your coat. "On a date. Sorry for being late." When you go to pet him he backs up, flattening his ears on his head. He huffs and lazily stretches out on the couch. He made the decision to sleep there tonight.

As time passes and you go on more failed dates, Katsuki has grown distant and cold. He's almost resorted back to his old self, just without the biting. He's also started ripping things or chewing things up, like books or anything plastic you leave out.

"Katsuki." He doesn't even spare you a glance as he lounges on your bed, on his belly with his head slightly hanging off the furniture, having messed up your neatly made sheets and blankets. "What's wrong buddy?"

He rolls his eyes and sucks his teeth. "Nothing"

You knew how to perk him up. "Wanna go out for a walk?" His tail slightly wags on instinct. His body betrays him. "Aww Katsuki wants to go walkies," you coo at him. His tail wags harder despite the annoyed expression on his face.

"I'll wear the damn collar but not the leash," he snaps.

"I have to bring the leash still because you're a troublemaker but you don't have to wear it. Deal?" He nods and gets off the bed. "Ah one more thing." You stop him in the doorway and feel so small compared to his massive size.

He shakes his head. " 'm not wearing that shit."

"Kacchan, if you want to go out you have to wear it. It's the law."

He sits on the floor with a pout, crossing his arms. "Then I won't go." You sigh and grab his collar and muzzle that he refuses to wear. Dangerous hybrids like him are permitted to wear a muzzle out in public. The last time he wore it was to the doctor. He hated the fabric on his face more than the doctor touching him and he dislikes being touched.

Katsuki lets you fasten the collar on him but growls when you hold the muzzle up to his face. "Stop being a baby." He swats it away from him and you groan.

"Told you I don't want it," he mumbles. He's surprisingly not as aggressive as you thought he would be.

You were so tired of him not listening. So you grab the muzzle again and straddle his lap. His body tenses. He realizes he's never been this up close and personal to you before without being asleep. Your sweet scent fills his nose and keeps him distracted long enough, almost dizzying him, for you to fasten the muzzle on him.

The lingering thoughts about how warm your body is is cut short by you tightening the stupid thing on his face. "Wasn't so bad Kacchan, see?"

He says nothing when you climb off his lap. Instead he just gets up and follows you to the door, hands stuffed in his pockets and shoulders slightly hunched. He felt all prickly from the uncomfortable feeling of the thing on his face.

The sun shines, making it a bit warm outside. Katsuki likes it. He misses the outdoors. His head lifts up to sniff the outside world. But one smell kept standing out among all the others.

When he glances at you he feels this weird sensation stirring in his belly. You smile at him when you catch his eyes. "This feel nice, Katsuki? Gotta get out more often."

He nods and walks alongside you, his arm brushing against yours. "Feels nice," he says softly; you almost didn't catch it. As you two walk he notices how your knuckles keep brushing his. It ignites a fire in his stomach, like when he eats something spicy. Is he sick?

You two reach a park, a pond nearby. He would have enjoyed chasing the ducks around here but he'll try to behave for once. Ruby colored irises watch you sit on a bench. He stays close by, crouching over by the pond. His tail subtly wags as he watches a turtle walk by him.

While he's busy enjoying himself, loving the sun on his skin, something suddenly feels off. He looks behind him and sees a man talking to you. Your body language looks different than usual and he can smell your anxiety. Katsuki rose up and strolled over to you, feeling a growl deep in his chest.

Katsuki's big body slots himself between you and the man. "You're not wanted here." It's a miracle he isn't shouting.

"Katsuki stop it. Be nice," you reprimand him. In actuality you're happy the hybrid was here. This man was a failed date because he made you uncomfortable. Too handsy and talked about himself a lot. Somehow you escaped but your bad luck has you encountering him once again.

"Who's this?," the man asks with a tilt of his head.

"Your worst nightmare. Now leave!," he growls and towers over the guy. You're not sure what Katsuki will do so you hook the leash on his collar.

The guy scowls now. "I suggest you get your mutt under control y/n."

Your eyes widen as you tug on Katsuki's leash but he doesn't budge. "C'mon Katsuki. We gotta go home."

The ash blonde isn't listening. He wishes he didn't have this stupid muzzle on or he would have ripped through this guy's throat out with his teeth already. "Come around her again and you won't be able to eat solid food for a month," he spits. Then he turns around and walks off, tail wagging furiously.

He practically drags you with him, your hand still clutching his leash. You're in shock for once that Katsuki handled himself in a situation that usually would have been deemed deadly.

When you two make it home, you go to the kitchen and grab some beef jerky. You toss him the bag. "All yours for being a good boy Katsuki." And when you say good boy and Katsuki together his heart quickens. He loves it. Suddenly all he wants is to be your good boy.

For the next couple weeks Katsuki has been oddly sweet. He rests his head in your lap while you watch Tv and lazily scratch his head. He greets you at the door every day with his collar on and muzzle in hand to go for a walk and acts accordingly the whole time. When he sleeps in your bed he cuddles up to you before falling asleep, nose nuzzled in your neck and body flush against yours.

But when you come home one day and he's nowhere in sight you're worried. The worry becomes anger when you see the place is a mess. Blankets and clothes strewn all over the place, some of them ripped up. You groan and toss your stuff on the kitchen counter. "Katsuki what the hell!"

When you walk into your room you're immediately caught off guard. Your hamper is knocked over, clothes all over the place. Katsuki is on the bed, your used panties in his hand and his nose buried in them. His other hand strokes his cock, aching and hot.

His eyes widen when he notices you in the doorway. He didn't want to get caught doing this. It's embarrassing and he knows he's going to get in trouble. So before you can utter a single cuss word he sprints to the bathroom slamming the door and locking it, panties still in his hand.

This morning he woke up feeling incredibly hot and hazy. His cock ached and leaked in his pajama bottoms. Usually it wouldn't be this bad, this hot and miserable. But he's surrounded by a woman's scent. His primal side kicked in. He needed to breed. This is probably the most painful heat cycle he's experienced.

There's a knock on the door while Katsuki keeps pumping his heavy cock with his hand. Even if he cums, the pain won't fully go away. "Katsuki 'm not mad. C'mon out please?" You were still a little upset but you guessed this would happen eventually.

All he responds back with is whimpers as he keeps up with his ministrations. You sigh and press your forehead to the door. You can hear his whines and grunts. it causes you to clench your thighs a little. "Kacchan I can help you, baby. Just open the door." It's been a while since you got any action. It would be best to help each other out, right?

The blond freezes. He really wants to indulge in his desires. It'll make it so much easier. But for once he's worried he's going to hurt you. He's seen his fellow pack members get so aggressive during their ruts. There's also the trouble of marking. "C'mon Katsuki. Promise I'll be nice. Be a good boy and open the door."

Within a few seconds the door is opened. He looks so much more different than usual. Cheeks flushed, chest heavy, eyes heavy lidded and pupils blown wide. "You- you can help?"

You nod. "Want the real thing right, Katsuki?"

He abashedly looks away. "Not a good idea," he mumbles. He gasps when you start to stroke him. He feels so heavy in your hand and good lord you wonder how the stretch will feel. The blonde bites his tongue to suppress the loud moan that wants to come out. Your hand feels so much better than his.

He encloses a large hand around your wrist to stop you, panting a little. "Gotta tell me what you want Kacchan."

It's hard to force the words out. His brain is all muddled up from his rut. There's only one thing on his mind. "Want it inside." He hates his primal side. His rational thinking is tossed to the wind, and all he can hear in his head is "mate" and "breed." The self control he once had is gone. At this point he'll say or do anything to satisfy this hunger.

"What do we say when we want something buddy?" He knows you're patronizing him but he doesn't care.

He has to clench his jaw while your thumb rubs over his leaking slit. "Pl- please..."

"Good boy," you coo at him and he groans in response. Oh how he loves those fucking words. You remove your hand and start taking your clothes off. The smell of your arousal when you take off your pants hits him like a truck. It's dizzying and he can't think straight.

Before you know it he has you pinned on your back on the bed. With one swift movement he's ripping your panties off. You squeal a little in response. "I kind of liked those, asshole."

Katsuki is definitely not listening, too lost in your scent to pay attention. His mouth salivates over your pussy. The smell is intoxicating and he can already see how wet you are. He traces his tongue over your folds, sort of confused on what to do. He's fully encouraged by your whines above him. You're rolling your hips against his tongue and he just follows your lead.

When your fingers card through his hair he lets out a whimper. Everything on his body is so sensitive, especially his ears, tail and of course his leaking cock. But he ignores the ache, too busy getting absolutely pussy drunk.

His face is drenched in a mix of his saliva and your juices. "Oh god Katsuki!" One of his fingers pushes inside you while he suckles your clit. He angles his finger just right and you whine, almost squishing him between your thighs when you try to close them.

He takes slow drawn out licks and adds another finger. He didn't want to hurt you when he finally sank himself inside of you. "Is it good?"

Your reply is a low drawn out moan when he had suddenly curled his fingers up towards your spot. "J- just like that- fuck!" The way his tongue traces delicately over your nub while he fucks his fingers knuckles deep into you has you tearing up.

He notices the way your legs shake and presses a little harder on your spot. "There?," he asks with a head tilt. His innocence is downright adorable.

You nod frantically. "Right there! Don't stop," you moan. Your grip on his hair tightens and he growls a little into your pussy. His finger and tongue movements grow more fervent. He needs to relieve this fucking ache.

When he hears you shriek and sees you start trembling he's sure he's done something right. You glance down at Katsuki as you come down from your high. He withdraws his fingers, spit connecting his tongue to your drooling sex. He looks just ethereal to you.

"Did so good, Katsuki. Now I want you to put it in." His ears twitch at the thought. He's quick to stand up and starts lining himself up but something doesn't feel quite right. This isn't right, he thinks.

It surprises you when Katsuki suddenly manhandles you on all fours. One of his large palms lays between your shoulder blades, pressing your upper half flat on the bed. That's better. He needs to breed you right.

When he slowly starts to push in he groans deeply from the pleasure. You clutch the sheets hard because just his tip feels large. You're panting and whining as he starts plunging every inch into you. When he's all the way in he feels like cumming. This feeling... he wants to remember it forever. Your walls are so snug and tight around him. The warmth resembles your body when he sleeps next to it. And god he loves it.

"Y- you can move Katsuki." That's all he needed to pull all the way out to the tip and slam back inside.

"Fuck...," he curses under his breath. Every single thrust is hard and deep, like he's trying to keep himself inside your tight heat as much as possible. His whole body shudders whenever you moan or cry for him.

There's tears in your eyes from him slamming into your cervix and stretching your walls to accommodate him. "K- Katsuki," you moan and gasp when he goes faster, hips flush to your ass, making a loud clap ring through the room.

His huge body looms over yours, teeth bared. He has to resist the urge to claim you. It would be so easy but he knows you're not a hybrid. It wouldn't mean anything to you and just bond him to you. He wouldn't be able to leave after that. It would make his heats worse because he would have a mate to breed.

Instead he threads his fingers into your hair, smushing your face into the mattress as you sob from the pleasure. You're making an absolute mess, a ring of cream glistening on Katsuki's cock.

It's getting hard to keep your arch with the hybrid's weight on you and your incoming orgasm. When you start straightening your back, a heavy smack on your ass jolts your body. "Keep it like that," he growls. So you obey and keep yourself arched for him. You bite your lip hard and keep up the onslaught of his brutal thrusting.

His thrusts are getting more shallow and sloppy and he's panting hard. "Gonna fucking-," he lets out a loud groan and stills his hips. It's so hot as he cums deep in you. His whole body trembles and he clenches his jaw tight. You gasp when you feel something weird.

"Katsuki is- are you- "

"Gotta keep it in," he cuts you off and it sounds off. Like it's not even him anymore. You feel so unbelievably full with his knot swelling in you. He nudges it a little deeper in you and you squeak.

"Too deep Katsuki please." It feels like he's going to pull out but instead he thrusts back in again with a grunt.

"Yer wasting it. Gotta give you more." Your jaw slacks as he goes back to that rough fast pace again. Knocking into your cervix with vigor and making you cry out. Hot tears trail down your cheeks and you hold onto the sheets for dear life. He leans over your body and digs his teeth into the back of your shoulder.

You scream out. "Katsuki please! It hurts!" His mind has become a mess and he can't even focus on your yelling. His teeth pierce the skin and he's licking up any blood that seeps out. His thrusts slow a little, still making sure to fill you the brim with his cock. He groans deeply as he litters kisses on your back and shoulders.

"S- sorry. I just..." The carnal need is still there but he finally got a handle on it. He pulls out. "I- Did I hurt you?" He's become so timid now you can barely recognize his voice.

" 'm okay. Just give me a second," you pant out as you take a breather. His body is still searing with need. Just one try isn't enough for him. He also did something stupid. Katsuki isn't the type to act recklessly. The mark on your shoulder, created with his sharp teeth, stares back at him. Fuck! He let his feral wolf brain take over and slipped up.

You turn over carefully, the start of the pain shooting through your legs. "I-," he starts but then tucks his lip between his teeth at the sight in front of him. You're spread out like a fucking meal, ready for him to devour and his cum leaking from you. That desire wells up inside him once again, threatening to burst if he doesn't have his way. "Let me..." He can't even get the rest of his sentence out.

You haven't had someone treat you like this in a long while. Plus you wanted to help him. Your sweet wolf boy Katsuki. Although he's been a huge pain in the ass you can't help but feel overjoyed when seeing the cracks in his hard exterior. So you lay back and spread your legs for him. "C'mon Katsuki. Be a good boy and fuck me."

He simply can't fucking argue with that. He crawls back up onto the bed, finding himself between your legs once again. His eyes roll back when he angles his hips and inches himself back into your pleasant cunt that still leaks with his warm seed. The hybrid can feel himself losing his rationality once again. It's like second nature, his brain completely switching itself off as soon as he's buried between your legs.

Katsuki takes your calves and hooks them in the crooks of his arms then he puts some of his weight on you, folding you up like a breakfast omelet. Fuck, he's really deep. You have to take a deep breath in order to relax yourself. The hybrid starts the rocking of his hips and you gasp out and arch your back, pressing your chest even closer to his. The hybrid tries so hard to keep himself under control but his pace increases and he's back to growling and moaning while stuffing himself into your cunt.

Nails dig into his strong back but it doesn't even deter him. In fact it spurs him on even more. "Fuck Katsuki!," you yell out when he keeps nudging right up against that spot again. Sane, normally on edge, Katsuki is no more right now. The absolutely feral pace he sets has you screaming and marking his back up. Your teeth sink into his neck and he hisses, getting even closer. When your tongue licks at the mark, he moans and slows his thrusts a bit.

To be enveloped in warmth like this. It's something new and something he didn't know he desired this whole time. For just a moment his sanity poked through and allowed him to brush your lips with his. It was inexperienced but tender. Your fingers thread through his spiky ash blond locks while you kiss back, guiding him into a little more heated kiss. When you suck on his tongue his control slips and he slams his hips into yours. You moan loudly and tug at his hair, resulting in a yelp from him.

Now his feral behavior is returning again. His pace goes back to insanely hard, pulling all the way out to just slam back in, aimed right at your spot like he's a damn expert at this. You tug even harder at his hair and tears spring into your eyes at his roughness. "Fuck fuck fuck!," he groans out, feeling his orgasm creep up on him again.

"M- my good boy, Katsuki! Good b- boy!" That only drives him crazier, intent to breed even heavier on his mind.

"W- want... inside!" The blonde's words are incoherent in his head, not allowing him to form an intelligible sentence. He pants hard and finally pushes himself deep into you again, knot swelling in his cock. His hands damn near shred the sheets when he cums, gripping at it like he's trying to keep his grasp on reality. He lets out a deep moan as he fills you deeply with yet another load.

The room is filled with hard pants and light smacking from little kisses shared. Has Katsuki wagging his fluffy tail. Carefully, he moves you two, unhooking your sore legs and rolling you two over so you're on top of him. He doesn't remove himself from your warmth, his stupid hybrid brain forcing him to think he's creating offspring.

Katuski is... affectionate afterwards. He's nuzzling his face into your neck and cheek, making a low rumbling noise deep in his throat. His large hands rub over your back and he leaves the softest kisses and little nips against your jaw. It's really cute seeing him like this but for the hybrid it's a nightmare. The animal part of his brain is still taking over, soothing his new partner even though his body doesn't know you're not a hybrid so it didn't matter. His inner wolf doesn't care though. It thinks he found somebody to be with and now he needs to procreate to continue his bloodline.

"I'll be out of your hair after my heat," he manages to get out finally.

Your eyes widen. "Katsuki that's not-"

"No! I went too far. This shouldn't have happened and I marked you so it's an even worse idea for me to be here."

You didn't really educate yourself much on the reproductive side of hybrids but you did know marking is important to them. It keeps two hybrids bound together for the rest of their lives. If the other dies or is far away from the other one it causes them to be in great pain. You wouldn't want to cause Katuski that pain. There's a reason you saved him. He looked lost and in trouble. He shouldn't have to go through that and deserved a comfy life. "Katsuki I can't let you leave. We're bonded. So don't say words like that or no more beef jerky."

He looks at you finally and feels overwhelming emotions but doesn't express them. Instead he pouts with irritation. "Fine... I'll stay I guess." He's grateful though and continues to show it with a couple more hours of gentler loving.

tag list: @spitcrank @luvkun4 @delirious-donna @noritopia @chosovixen @lex-dear

#bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki smut #bakugo smut #my hero academia #cw knotting #smiley’s works <3

1K notes · View notes

chellestrash · 3 months

Text

A long road ahead

Shane Walsh x Female!Reader

summary: bored in the car with your boyfriend you decide to make the drive a bit more fun for both of you. warnings: pet names, explicit language, explicit content, teasing, exhibitionism, masturbation, oral sex, unprotected sex, car sex, pure smut, not much plot to it word count: 2.2k a/n: i literally got the idea and then sat down and wrote it in like the same day? Had to get it out of the system before I work on some bigger projects, hope you'll enjoy it!

You watch the not so well, lit road from the passenger's seat of your car while Shane drives you both to a little party at one of your old friend's place, a couple of cities over. It's not a short drive, but you figured it won't be too bad on a Friday evening, and you quickly realize your assumption was correct. It's not bad, but it is boring, the road is long, and you start to get bored...quickly.

You turn to your boyfriend, watching as he skips through the radio station for a bit before setting on something that seemed semi familiar to both of you. He clears his throat, tilting his head to the side, as he goes back to watching the road in front of him. Your eyes linger on his arms for a bit, the fabric of his t-shirt tight around his bicep as he grips the steering wheel after changing the gear. You trace your eyes down his body, from his rough side profile, over that pretty neck, down to his broad shoulders, his chest and the down and down and lower until you stop right between his legs.

Your mind wanders, pretty quickly finding its way back to yours and Shane's favorite ways of passing the time together, and you suck your lower lip in between your teeth.

Watching him for another moment, with your mind occupied by the memories of his body, your hand slowly finds it way under your dress and make up your mind the second your boyfriend's voice brings you back to him.

“You okay?”

He asks, eyebrows pulled together as he turns from the road to you and back to the road again.

“Yeah.”

You answer quickly, and he glances over at you again, scrunching his nose up slightly as he does his best to figure out if you mean it or not.

“You sure?”

“I'm fine, Shane, watch the road.”

You instruct him, and he does as he's told. After turning to face the window on your side of the car, you prop your head in your palm and watch the dark buildings pass by behind the glass. It doesn't take more than a couple of minutes for your brain to wander back into the place Shane managed to, oh so effortlessly, pull you out off.

Rubbing your thumb over your thigh, you slowly move your palm higher and higher up your leg before pushing it under the fabric of your dress.

“What are-”

Shane starts, catching your hand move out the corner of his eye, but chokes on his own words once he turns his head to look at you, his eyes immediately falling between your legs. His jaw drops, eyes widen when he registers the subtle movements of your hand under the fabric, and you take this opportunity to make the ride a bit more interesting for both of you. Lifting your ass up from the seat, you quickly pull your black panties down, opening your legs slightly to allow them to fall onto the floor of the car.

“Shit-”

He curses, dropping his hand to the now, growing bulge in his jeans, doing his best to keep the car in the right lane without looking at the road too much.

“Wait- wait wait wait - fuck what-”

He tries, but you speak over him.

“I'm sooooo fucking bored, Walsh.”

You tease him with a whine, pulling the dress up just enough for him to catch the glimpse of your pussy before finally touching yourself properly.

Humming, satisfied with the sensation, you rub your fingers over your center for a moment before spreading your legs open some more to focus on the clit.

“Shane! The road!”

You point out after a moment, realizing he probably didn't look away from you since the panties brushed over your ankles. He doesn't listen, reaching his hand over to your side, trying to touch you.

“Don't-”

You push his hand away, and nod towards the road in front of the car.

“Walsh! You want me to call the cops on you? Watch the damn road!"

You warn, hand never slipping away from your center as you address him directly.

“God- fuck-, god damn it!”

He huffs, slamming his hand into the steering wheel, frustrated as he focuses back on not causing a major car wreck before reaching over and pushing your hand away from your pussy.

“Don't fucking do that then.”

He warns you, and you give him a shocked smirk.

"Or?"

You push your hips forward, the hand immediately back between your legs.

"Hey! What'd I just say, what-"

Shane glances between you and the road, trying to focus on both things at once, but you won't let him win.

"What'd i say?!"

He warns, harsh, loud voice fills the car but, you know him, it doesn't work on you.

Propping your knee on the ledge by the window, you spread your legs open even more, making sure to turn in his direction slightly, wanting him to get the best view possible.

“Oh, I don't know...didn't hear you."

You point out as you continue to rub your fingers over your clit, feeling the warmth between your legs growing more and more the more you touched yourself, but most likely the more he watched you do it. It wasn't the first time you did shit of this sort in the car, but it was the first time you decided to not let touch you, at least not yet. You wanted to tease and get to him, and that's exactly what you wear doing. Judging by the now, completely hard cock staining against the fabric of his jeans, you deserved some praise.

You moan theatrically, earning yourself another “made you look" point before, he glares into the mirror and onto the side of the road.

“I'm pulling over-.”

“Don't!”

You protest.

"Yeah, you think I'm gonna listen to you now?"

He mumbles, eyebrow raised as he glares at you and into the mirror again.

"Think I'm gonna-"

“You pull over, I'll stop. You got that?”

He turns to you quickly one more time, and you know if looks could kill, Shane Walsh would be a murdered right now.

“You're on- real thin ice right now, you know that-”

He warns you, but you manage to cut him off yet again, the wet sounds of your fingers slipping inside you cuts off any sort of communication between his brain and his lips.

You watch the way his knuckles turn white against the steering wheel as you continue to do to yourself, what he wishes he was doing right now, when the car suddenly stops.

The intersection feels like a gift from God when the red light forces him to stop the truck.

Fighting with the buckle of his belt with one hand, he undoes the seatbelt and leans over to your side of the car before ducking down, between your legs. You slip your fingers out and lift your hips up slightly to make it easier while he grunts into you. Your mouth falls open and eyes shut tight when you feel his tongue press hard against your sensitive clit.

“Oh shit- oh shit.”

You push his head harder against you, the short, buzzed hair prickling your palm while he hums loudly, licking up your slick. Digging your nails into his back, you attempt to pull him even closer, feeling the climax building up deep under your bellybutton. You don’t even dare to think about it too much, but to be completely honest, you’re pretty sure, despite the late hour, if someone looked at the car even for a moment, they’d figure out what was going on.

“Shane-”

You half gasp, half moan when the green hue of the streetlight snaps you out of the pleasant moment.

“Fuck- Shane!”

Taping the side of his head with your hand, you attempt to get his attention, but he only lifts his head up once the car behind you hooks impatient.

“Fuuu-”

He pushes his head up, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand quickly before doing his best to frantically get the car in gear before stepping on the gas. Your slick shines on his lips in the lights of the streetlamps while he speeds down the main road, pushing his hand into his boxers at the same time. You watch the fabric move as he strokes his cock again and again and again, biting into your lower lip at the site

“Pull over.”

You finally get the words out, feeling way too close to stop now, but not wanting to come without him.

“I'm fuckin- tryin-”

He almost shouts now, glancing around the car's surroundings.

“Shane…”

You warn, and he catches your hips buck up, pussy clenching around nothing, the last straw.

“Fuck- don't, wait, god fucking-”

The car jerks to the side as he cuts through the two lanes and comes to a sudden stop on a small dirt road off the side of the main one. It's, in no way, secluded, not any more than the main road, but neither of you care enough for that fact to stop you. Not at this point.

You pull your hand away from yourself and Shane yanks his jeans and boxers down, his cocks springing out, hard for you already, before he pushes his seat back enough to make room for you.

“Fuck, fuck f- c'mere darlin' c'mon-“

He grabs onto your arm desperately, helping you throw your leg over the middle of the car, and you wait exactly half a second for him to line his cock up with your entrance before taking him in at the same time as he bucks up into you.

“Oh shit- oh shit, god-fuck!”

He curses under his breath as you feel yourself stretching to accommodate to his size. His hands drop to your hips, under the dress, fingers digging into your ass when you begin to ride him, both of you working on the deep thrusts. You throw your arms over his neck, head falling back slightly, your nails on his back again as you feel his cock drag out of you before pushing in, nudging right under your stomach on the inside.

His lips find yours as the trusts speeds up and so does your breathing. You taste yourself on him and hum into the kiss before he pulls away, pushing his face into your neck with a loud grunt as he feels himself almost falling over the edge now.

“Fuck-fuck- oh shit- “

As his hips speed up even more, he pushes his hand between your bodies, and you feel his fingers on your clit.

A loud moan lets him know they're in the right place, and he scoffs loudly, smiling wide as he watches you fall apart on top of him.

Your climax hits, harder than you've anticipated, definitely harder than what you've expected when you slipped your hand under your dress a couple miles ago, and he lets you ride the high out on his cock before finally letting himself come as well.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck-”

You grip onto his torso as he fucks through your body's post orgasm clenches, listening to the wet sounds filling the car. He grunts, loud, really loud, and you know he's there.

“Ohhhh there he iiiiis. Good boy Walsh!”

You tease immediately after, not really giving him even a second to catch his breath. Resting his forehead against yours, he pants loudly, swallowing hard as he does his best to speak up now.

“Fuck you.”

He mumbles, and you laugh out loud, pressing your lips into his before dragging your hand down his face to clean him up a little bit.

“Again? You wish”

He scoffs loudly this time, rolling his eyes at your words, before wrapping his arms around your back, pulling you even closer to him.

“Think anyone saw us?”

He asks after you sit in silence for a moment, your body rising and falling with his chest, your fingers scratching the back of his neck gently, his hands on your lower back under the fabric of the dress, thumbs brushing softly over your skin.

You shrug, not really sure if it honestly matters much to you.

“The car behind us at the stop light?”

He laughs loudly, looking off to the side, out the window and back at you.

“Yeah, shit. S'what i though too.”

You breathe out a laugh and shrug your shoulders.

“Well, if they did, then…lucky them, I guess.”

Shane nods, approving of your answer with a quiet chuckle, and you smile at the sound.

“Lucky them.”

He repeats before sighing loudly.

“Christ…don't know how we didn't fucking crash.”

He mumbles, holding your hand as you stand up and pull off of his cock before falling back onto your seat before he slowly and gently tucks his cock back into him boxers then pulls his jeans up.

“Should we try the party still?”

He asks, watching you lean down to pick something up from the floor.

“Eeeh I don't know.”

You state, not even turning to face him before hanging your lacy black panties over the mirror before turning to face him again.

“Your choice Walsh. We still have a bit to go."

#shane walsh #shane walsh x reader #shane walsh smut #jon bernthal #shane walsh fanfiction #jon bernthal fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #jon bernthal smut

365 notes · View notes