#graphic smut

[karatekels]

Unjust Reward - Chapter 2

Part 1 here

I said it yesterday, and I'll say it again: this is dark, bad, terrible. If you are not ready and wanting to read non-con, DO NOT READ THIS.

That said, this was a disturbing amount of fun to write. Evil!Terry ftw.

TW: Violence, sexual assault, rape, non-con, graphic sex, dirty talk, gaslighting.

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“Guess you shoulda listened to Danny-Boy, huh?” Terry says, slowly circling you like a snake coiling around its prey. You turn your head, trying to keep your eyes on him, but you can’t bring yourself to move.

“What are you talking about?”

“Please don’t go see him again, Y/N!  He’s not good for you; he’s not good for anyone!” he mocks in a high voice, cackling at his impression of Daniel.

But Daniel had said those exact words to you a few days ago in the park. You thought you had been alone.

He had been there? Had he been the source of that snapping branch that you’d pulled Danny away from?

“You were there?” you ask him with horror, staring at the ground. You feel dizzy; you feel sick.

He gives you a wide smile, as though he had told you wonderful news.

“I should be thanking you. LaRusso may be a naïve little shit, but he probably would’ve found me if you hadn’t pulled him back…”

Your knees go weak, and you sink to the ground.

“I’ve been asking myself what I would have done if LaRusso had spotted me the other day,” Terry continues casually, squatting down across from you, his weight on the balls of his feet like he was prepared to pounce.

“I think I would’ve snatched you up then, Danny-Boy be damned. I’ve thought about this for so long. You’ve been keeping me up at night; I just can’t get the thought of making you mine out of my head.”

You whimper in fear at this confession, and you swear you see his nostrils flare and his pupils dilate in response to the sound.

“I had hoped that having you once would be enough to get you out of my system, but having you here now… I’m not so sure.”

He slides forward suddenly, halving the distance between you, and you scurry backwards on your palms before shakily forcing yourself to your feet.

“Terry, don’t do this, please,” you sob, your focus torn between looking for a way out and never taking your eyes off of him. You’ve never been so scared before in your entire life. “Please just let me go. I won’t tell anyone about this, I promise.”

Terry slowly gets to his feet, still managing to tower over you from twenty feet away, and gives you a soft, pitying smile.

“You won’t tell anyone about this regardless,” he says with confidence, not at all worried that there may be repercussions for keeping you here against your will, threatening – no, promising to force himself on you if you didn’t offer yourself to him freely.

“Do you know why you came here, sweetheart? Even though you know better?” he coos, slowly approaching you like you were a bird about to fly away; you wish more than anything that you were. Instead, you back away from him until your back hits a cold, smooth wall. You groan, a noise of pure terror escaping you, and you see Terry lick his lips as he closes in on you.

“Because you need me. You can’t stay away, no matter how hard you try to play the innocent, good girl next door.”

He holds you in a cruel imitation of a hug, trapping you in his arms and pinning yours to your sides. You feel him bury his nose in your hair, and he inhales deeply, letting out a deep, primal groan that makes you shudder violently against him.

“I told you before – I’ve seen how you look at me. You’re so overwhelmed by your want, even though you do your best to hide it, to deny it. But I see it, doll. I see everything.”

“No, I don’t –” you try to deny him, but he silences you, pushing your head into his chest. You want to bite him, hurt him and get away, but it might just set him off and make him even more depraved at this point.

“I know, I know. You want to keep playing the sweet, innocent virgin forever, and make me get my hands dirty. That’s alright with me,” he says, pressing his body more firmly against yours and crushing you between himself and the wall. “In fact, I’m thrilled about it. Gifts can be nice, but I much prefer taking what I want.”

“But you saved me!” you protest, unable to reconcile this monster with the man that had saved you, the man you had been so drawn to. He leans away at your words to look down at you, a broad smile on his face.

“I did save you,” he agrees, stroking your cheek with his thumb, “…for myself.”

From somewhere deep within you, an angry, appalled scream bursts out of you, and you somehow manage to swing both your hands together, sending a punch right to his gut that sends him stumbling back.  Turning, you run back into the office, forcing a chair underneath the doorknob. You’re not sure how long it’ll hold for, but hopefully it’s long enough for you to break the window and escape.

You drop to the ground, frantically looking for something heavy enough to throw through the glass, your heart beating a mile a minute as you hear him running to the door, throwing his weight against it with a loud bang. You find a set of dumbbells in a corner under the bed and grab one, rushing over to the window. Taking one end in both hands, you swing back, preparing to throw it through the window. You’ll probably only get one shot at this…

There’s a horrible crash behind you, and you’re knocked to the ground by the chair, pieces of the door – he had smashed right through it – and Terry himself. You cry out in pain as everything lands on top of you, but it may as well be a whisper compared to the shriek of terror you let out when Terry’s hand tangles in your hair, roughly pulling you to your feet.

“Let go of me!” you scream, your body seeming to finally lean in to the ‘Fight’ response. You swing your knee up as hard as you can, hoping to hit him in the balls and incapacitate him long enough for you to get away, but he clamps his thighs together hard around your leg, catching it in mid-swing. You let out a wail of pain as he squeezes your leg with both of his own, bending you back with a tug of your hair as you struggle to keep your balance on one leg.

“You may have been able to fight back against those pricks out there, but do you really think you stand a chance against me?” he pants, looking down at you in your awkward, trapped position. He brings your head closer to him, using his grip on your hair to tilt your head back and expose your throat. He licks a possessive trail up the side of your neck that makes you cry out in disgust, then takes your ear into his mouth and bites it just hard enough to sting. You whine, your eyes filling with tears.

“Are you ready to be a good girl for me again?” he asks, his voice husky in your ear, breath hot on your neck and making you squirm. He chuckles darkly against your skin as you react to him. “Though I have to say, I do like this fiery side of you. She should come out to play more often.”

With an inhuman screech you move to hit him in the side, but this time he expects it, turning his body to the side to dodge, the momentum of your swing sending you tumbling onto the bed as he releases your leg, shoving you to the mattress. Before you can get your bearings, he’s on top of you, his massive body pressing insistently against yours. You thrash underneath him, but he’s got you pinned, and as you feel him grinding his erection against you, you realize that you’re only egging him on.

“Fuck, you feel so good like this,” Terry groans in your ear, confirming your theory. “Trying so desperately to get away from me, Y/N, and for what? You know you can’t escape me.”

His words seem to suck the energy right out of you, and you go limp and still beneath him. He was right, wasn’t he? Trying to fight back or escape was only going to give him reason to hurt you more.

“Oh, is that it now? Do you give up?” he asks, pressing you into the mattress with his body as he leans down to whisper the mocking words in your ear. “Pathetic.”

“Terry, please,” you try begging him again, knowing it was the only option you have left. With your head turned to the side, you can see his silhouette in your peripheral vision, and try to look up at him with a pleading expression. “Please stop hurting me. This isn’t you, I know it’s not!”

All you had to do was appeal to a shred of humanity that lurked somewhere inside him, and then you’d have a chance…

“You’re right.”

You freeze at the words. Had you really gotten through to him that easily?

Slowly, he sits back, pulling you up with him until you’re both in kneeling positions. You hold your breath, your eyes clenched shut, trying not to tremble.

“I should stop hurting you,” he croons, and you feel his arms come around you in something resembling a hug. “Let’s start making you feel good.”

He grabs the hem of your shirt with both hands, trying to pull it over your head, and you instinctively fight him, throwing your head back and colliding it with his chin, hard. The impact stuns you and you slump forward, dazed and unable to move or speak.

Faintly, you feel Terry slowly, almost tenderly removing your clothes, taking advantage of your immobility.

“I don’t like you hurting, babygirl,” he coos down at you as he works your shorts and underwear down your legs. “Try to just relax and let yourself feel good.”

“Terry… no…” you groan, slowly regaining the ability to speak. You taste blood on your tongue. He clucks his tongue at you disparagingly, tugging your shirt off and quickly divesting you of your bra, leaving you naked beneath him.

“So gorgeous,” he breathes, ignoring your protests as he strokes your skin possessively. “A few bruises here and there, but nothing too bad. I hope you don’t earn any more, don’t you sweetheart?”

You don’t respond, and Terry presses his thumb down firmly on one of the large bruises on your thigh, making a hiss of pain push past your lips. “Don’t you, Y/N?” he growls, gradually increasing the pressure of his thumb.

“Yes, yes!” you cry out desperately, gasping in relief when he removes his thumb.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asks innocently, stroking your hair gently as he gazes down on your crumpled form beneath him. You shy away from his hand reflexively, and he sighs, clenching his jaw as he quickly flips you onto your back, pinning your hands against the mattress when you try to cover your chest.

 “I can make this so good for you, Y/N,” he purrs, leaning down to kiss your cheek in a weak parody of affection. “Let all this resistance go, and I’ll have you begging for more,” he coaxes, stroking your wrists with his thumbs. His eyes follow the path of the few tears that leak out from the corners of your closed eyes, and he wonders what they taste like. “Whaddaya say, doll?”

“No,” you tell him firmly, your eyes blazing as they open again and lock onto his. “I don’t want this. I don’t want you.”

Terry’s eyes lose the sparkle of amusement they’ve had the whole time he’s been tormenting you, darkening to a flat black, and you know you’ve said the wrong thing. His lip curls as he lets out an animalistic snarl, and he reels back, slapping you hard, his large hand managing to strike the entire side of your face, including the bandage he had gently applied not even an hour ago.

You cry out, your head whipping to the side, but you’re unable to lift a hand to your cheek before his hands roughly flip you over onto your stomach. He pins you down with a knee on your lower back, and you hear the sound of his belt as he takes off his clothes. He shifts down, keeping you still with an elbow digging into your back now, his free hand reaching down to pull off his pants, refusing to give you even a second to try to escape. Your cries ring out loudly in the room despite being muffled, your face buried in the blankets as you sob.

Terry slides back and off of you, pulling your hips with him so that you’re on your knees before him, the rest of you still slumped onto the mattress. He squeezes the flesh of your hips hard, making you whimper, and you feel his bare, hard cock grind against your entrance. You try to lurch away, but he holds fast to your hips, digging his nails into your skin.

“I’m torn, Y/N,” he tells you, kneading your ass as he talks to you casually. “Torn between fucking you hard and rough until you’re begging for mercy, or making you come until you’re begging for more.” You shudder beneath him, and he lets out a harsh laugh.

“Yeah, you’d hate yourself for coming on my cock, wouldn’t you?” he taunts, sliding his cock against your folds. You arch your back, trying to shy away from the contact, and he lets you. You hear him spit and let out a grunt of pleasure, and when he presses his cock against you again, it’s wet with his saliva, and you shiver at the implication of what that means for you. “You know what? I can have both.”

He kneels on the soles of your feet, preventing you from escaping, and you feel him spread you open with his large hands.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby,” he hums approvingly, and your fists clench the blankets more tightly, humiliated and terrified. “And all for me.” He spits directly onto your entrance, making you feel filthy, one of his large fingers forcing its way inside you.

“Fuck me, you’re tight,” he growls through gritted teeth, pumping his finger in and out of you. “My cock’s gonna break you, sweetheart.” You can hear the patronizing pout in his voice, but are too scared about his words to care; him mocking you was the least of your worries.

“But you’re gonna take it all for me, babygirl. Just like you were meant to.”

He withdraws his finger from inside you, bringing his hand around to your face, holding out two fingers.

“Suck my fingers, baby; get them nice and wet. And if your teeth go anywhere near them, I’ll pull them out, one by one,” he warns, and you let out an audible gasp at the threat. Terry takes the opportunity to shove his fingers into your mouth, pumping them in and out and triggering your gag reflex a few times. You try to keep still, crying softly, and after a minute or so, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, immediately sliding them back into your pussy, stretching you out.

“You’re so hot when you obey me,” Terry groans, the pace of his fingers increasing. “I knew you could be a good girl for me, Y/N. You know what good girls get?” he asks, letting out a hum of approval when you immediately shake your head. It wasn’t as good as you answering him with your words, but it was a step in the right direction. “They get rewarded.”

He presses his fingers against a certain spot inside you that makes you buck your hips and cry out in surprise. He chuckles lowly at your reaction, and you feel your cheeks burn with shame.

“You like that, baby? Did that feel good?” he asks you in a rough, teasing voice, and again you shake your head. “No? Your pretty pussy is telling me different, doll.” Sure enough, his fingers move inside you more easily. You’re getting wet, you realize with horror.

“No!” you cry, repeating the word as you sob. You don’t want this.

“I’ll prove it to you, baby; I’ll make you come before I make you mine; how’s that?” Terry says, his tone soothing but his words having the opposite effect. He turns you onto your back like a ragdoll; you’re too tired and scared to fight. You know that if you do anything that makes him feel anything close to pain that he won’t hesitate to give it back to you tenfold, and you’re already pretty beaten up.

Terry crawls up on top of you, and before you can turn your head away he’s caught your lips with his own, his hands running up and down your sides possessively. You squirm against him, trying not to move your mouth in any way that could be considered kissing him back, ignoring the way his tongue tries to coax yours to tangle with his.

Not at all deterred by your lack of response, he lets you turn your head to the side, laving kisses up and down your neck, his hands coming up to massage your breasts. He lets out a groan of pleasure as he caresses your breasts, kneading them gently; you bite your tongue, forcing yourself to remain unmoved.

“Your skin is so soft, Y/N,” he moans against your neck as you fight to keep still. In one fluid motion, he rolls both of your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, and you can’t help the whine that escapes you, even as you bite your bottom lip to try to keep it from getting out. You feel Terry grin against your neck, and hate yourself with every fibre of your being.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coos encouragingly in your ear. “Let me make you feel good. You know I’m going to have you either way; you may as well enjoy it.”

“I don’t want to enjoy this!” you scream at him in frustration, your tears flowing freely now. He kisses them as they fall, savouring your taste, and you whimper at the sensation.

“Why?” he asks calmly, utterly unfazed by your screaming and crying. “What are you afraid of, someone finding out that you like this? I won’t tell if you won’t,” he promises coyly. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Y/N. I don’t want to hurt you more–”

“Then let me go!” you shriek, hiccupping through your sobs.

“No.”

One of his hands comes around your throat, squeezing gently in warning, and you immediately fall silent and still.

“This is happening, Y/N,” he tells you bluntly but not cruelly. “I’m making you mine tonight.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, as though he was discussing the weather and not whether or not you would be complicit in your own assault. “I’ll stop trying to make it good for you if you’re just going to fight me on it, but it’s going to make things a lot more painful for you. Is that what you want?” Terry looks straight into your eyes as he asks the question, like he’s trying to search your soul for the answer.

You take a deep, shaky breath, closing your eyes, and for once this evening Terry seems amenable to giving you a moment to yourself.

Was this even something you were capable of? Enjoying him forcing himself on you, or at least not fighting back? How could you live with yourself if you just let this happen? You would hate yourself everyday…

But at the same time, Terry was giving you the option to get through tonight without hurting you. Maybe that would be worth it, for both your body and your psyche. Before learning the truth about him, you had been attracted to him, interested in him… was there any part of that desire still within you after all this that you could cling to, just to get you through the night?

You open your eyes, forcing yourself to look at him, taking in his naked body for the first time. As your eyes roam over the pale flesh of his chest, you try to only think about the memories from before, the things he had done to make you feel like you had butterflies in your stomach.

After taking a moment to look at all of him – your face flushing despite yourself as you take in the sight of his large, hard member – you manage to bring your eyes up to his face without flinching or looking away. You try not to feel too proud of yourself for your newfound ability to dissociate.

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?” he asks, and you bite your lip. You should’ve known that he wouldn’t make this easy on you.

“I… I’ll stop r-resisting you.” You force the words out, trying to keep your breathing somewhat regular.

“You will?” he asks, sounding slightly surprised.

“You promise you won’t hurt me?” the question comes out weak and shaky. You don’t know why you’re trying to elicit a promise from him; the man was a psychopath that couldn’t be trusted for even a second.

“I can’t promise that it won’t hurt when I’m first inside you, but as long as you don’t give me a reason to, I won’t hurt you, Y/N.” Well, at least he had been upfront about something tonight.

“Then okay,” you breathe, trying not to think too hard about what you’re saying. “I’ll try to relax.”

“Relax and enjoy, beautiful,” Terry croons, his arms coming around your waist as he slowly lowers you onto your back. You don’t resist, focusing on the parts of him that don’t make you want to recoil from his touch. His body comes on top of yours, skin-on-skin, but this time he holds his weight off of you instead of trapping you against the mattress.

“Want you so bad, babygirl,” he moans against your skin, laying kisses all over your neck and across your collarbone. “Wanted you for so long.”

Against your better judgement, you slowly raise your hands to wrap them around his neck, trailing them up to his ponytail. You grip it in one hand, causing him to pause and look down at you, his blue eyes flashing a warning, but you force yourself to maintain his gaze, calmly releasing his hair from the ponytail, running your fingers through it slowly.

It helped him look like somebody else.

A pleased rumble emanates from Terry’s chest and he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his hair tickling your chest. He eagerly moves down your body, his hands and lips never leaving your skin as he slowly slides down to your chest. For some reason, you don’t feel self-conscious; you suppose you’re far past that point now.

He gently takes your breasts in his hands, his rough palms rubbing your nipples, and you feel them getting hard from the attention. He slowly rolls your breasts in circles, the motion surprisingly sending a warm tingling sensation low down in your belly, and you buck your hips ever-so-slightly upwards at the feeling.

Terry purrs, catching the movement; he never missed anything. Pleased, he lowers his head to take one of your nipples into his mouth, lightly teasing the sensitive bud with his tongue as his fingers toy with the other.

You let out a muffled whimper that you hide behind a hand, the other clutching the blanket beneath you. Terry releases you from his mouth, pausing his ministrations to look up at you from under his eyelashes with a lustful expression.

“Don’t hide from me, doll. Let me hear how good I make you feel,” he implores you, maintaining eye contact as he drags his tongue from the bottom of your breast to the top, laving directly over your nipple. You moan, forcing your hand away from your mouth to mirror your other, clutching the sheets with both fists now, and feel Terry grin as he takes your other nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Sliding back up your body somewhat to watch your face, he uses his fingers to tease your nipples until you can’t help but arch up against him.

“You have such perfect, perky tits,” he whispers obscenely, taking in the way you squirm and turn red at his dirty talk with a wicked grin. “And you’re still so innocent, even for a virgin. Such a sweet, pure, good girl, aren’t you Y/N?” he asks, and you nod reluctantly, hoping desperately that he’s not going to make you say it.

No such luck.

“I want you to say it, sweetheart,” he says, watching you bite your lip with hesitation. He leans in and you flinch, worried he’s going to hurt you. Instead, he moves to speak in your ear, his fingers never ceasing to play with your breasts.

“Say it, Y/N; I bet it’ll make you wet for me.” He lightly pinches both your nipples as he whispers to you, and you cry out, feeling a throbbing in your clit.

“I’m a good girl!” you moan out shamelessly, and he tweaks your nipples again as you give in, causing another wave of arousal to wash over you.

“Mmm, yes you are,” he agrees, humming approvingly, his eyes dark with lust. He trails one hand down your body between your legs, and you tense slightly. He targets a sensitive spot on your collarbone, giving it a hot, open-mouthed kiss and sucking on the flesh there, making you relax and leaving a love bite on your skin. He runs a long finger along your slit, and while you’re still feeling tender from him roughly entering you earlier, you feel your entrance slick with your juices.

“So wet for me, aren’t you babygirl?” he asks, and this time you don’t need any instructions as his finger lightly flits across your clit.

“Yes!” you cry out, rolling your hips against his hand. “I’m so wet!”

“Good girl,” he hisses, thrilled by your response, and rewards you by slipping a finger inside of you, rubbing your clit with his thumb in a way that has you going weak in the knees. “Who made your pussy wet? Tell me.”

“Unh…oh, fuck!” you cry out as he angles his finger, hitting your G-spot again. “You did, Terry! I’m wet for you,” you moan wantonly, your face burning with humiliation. He makes that pleased rumbling in his chest again, and the sound makes your toes curl. He slips in a second finger with ease, pumping them in and out, and you’re mortified at the wet sounds he’s dragging out of your body.

“Damn right you’re wet for me,” he growls, sitting up now so he can watch how your whole body responds to him, his eyes feverishly bright. “This is mine,” he purrs, suddenly adding a third finger to your cunt that has you keening as you arch off the bed. “Gonna make this pretty pussy come and then I’m gonna make it mine,” he groans, and your eyes roll back in your head at his dirty talk. Why did someone who could make you feel like this have to be such a monster?

Terry quickens the pace of his fingers, pulling you away from that train of thought, and starts curling them against the spot that makes you see stars with every stroke, making you mewl desperately as he works you closer and closer to an orgasm.

“Come for me, Y/N,” he demands, rubbing your clit steadily even as he keeps his fingers thrusting inside your pussy, and it isn’t long before you come hard with a scream, your legs clamping down on Terry’s hand and trapping it there. He leans down, kissing you deeply, and this time you find yourself kissing him back. This clearly pleases him, and he groans into your mouth, running his hands lightly up and down your body.

“You’re gorgeous when you come apart for me.”

You blush furiously at the compliment, still feeling embarrassed and trying to stay in this safe headspace you had created for yourself.

Terry widens his stance on his knees, spreading your legs wider to either side of him, and reaches down, coating his fingers in your juices and stroking his cock as he looks down at you spread out beneath him. You immediately start trembling, trying to calm yourself down. Terry’s hands return to your sides, stroking them soothingly and helping you relax again.

You feel his erection prodding your entrance, and instinctively reach up for him as you tense up. He takes in your gesture with dark eyes, before taking the base of his cock in one hand, steadying it while pushing just the head inside you before lowering the rest of his body to be closer to you, giving you the comfort you’re craving.

“I’ve got you, doll,” he murmurs, his forehead pressed against yours, and you make a noncommittal noise, digging your nails into his back as you grip his shoulders. He hisses, thrusting himself slightly deeper inside of you reflexively. “Gonna take you, gotta make you mine,” he whispers huskily, and you’re not sure whether he’s talking to you or himself.

Without drawing it out, Terry thrusts his hips forward, filling you in one motion before stilling inside of you. You let out a soft cry as he stretches you, but it’s not nearly as bad as you had been anticipating. He peppers your face with kisses, cooing words of encouragement and comfort that have you melting against him, rocking your hips experimentally.

“That’s it,” he hisses in pleasure. “There’s my good girl, Y/N.”

He pulls back before surging forward again, immediately setting a hard and fast pace. There’s some pleasure to it, but your body isn’t used to this new and unfamiliar exercise, and it starts to feel like he’s bruising you from the inside out.

“Terry, please! Not so hard!” you whimper, but he doesn’t change his pace, thrusting into you as deep as he can get, his hands coming down to grip your bruised hips tightly.

“Relax, doll,” he says, his lip curling in a grimace as he loses himself in pleasure. “Time for me to get what I want.”

You shudder, tears coming to your eyes at the rough treatment, and your protective shield of ignorance shatters as you come face-to-face with the reality of your situation. You cry quietly as he snaps his hips against yours, chasing his own release, hoping that you won’t set him off again with your tears.

After a few minutes of him fucking you into the mattress, he slides a hand up your body, wrapping it around your throat once again.

“Say my name,” he demands in a rough voice, squeezing your neck lightly in warning.

“Terry!” you squeal in pain and terror, and with his eyes clenched shut, he seems to mistake it for a pleasured moan of his name.

Growling his approval, licks a sloppy path up the bruised side of your face, making you whimper.

“Say it again; don’t stop until I fill you up.”

You force his name from your lips as many times as you can, uncaring of how they sound. You feel strangely numb as he ruts into you like an animal, and are only brought back to earth when he comes inside you, the feeling strange and unpleasant. He moans your name with his release.

“Y/N… my girl.”

He collapses to the side of you to avoid crushing you, the tiny cot somehow big enough to fit you both and support your weight, though you’re still trapped beneath an arm and a leg. You try not to cry, waiting until Terry starts to snore before you slowly worm your way out from underneath him, crawling to the bottom of the bed to climb off, find your clothes and get the fuck out of there. You feel yourself leaking Terry’s come down your thighs, and the sensation almost has you vomiting.

A large hand closes around your ankle as you try to clamber off the bed, and you yelp in surprise.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Getting dressed. Going home?” you ask hopefully, and he laughs at the tone of your voice, pulling you back onto the bed with ease and trapping you in his arms.

“You can’t go out with your face looking like that,” he states, as though it were obvious. “People will ask too many questions. You’ll be staying with me until you’re all better.”

You wrap your arms around yourself in a hug, trying to ignore the feel of Terry’s doing the same to you.

“But, but I thought that once you… once we…” you stammer, and he laughs through a carefree yawn.

“I told you that having you once might not be enough for me,” he reminds you, shrugging before nuzzling into your hair, and you whimper, stiffening against him. Did he really just expect you to play house with him after everything that happened tonight?

“Don’t make this difficult, sweetheart,” he purrs sleepily, his arm tightening around your waist. “Even if you manage to get away from me, you can’t get out of here without a key to the door. I don’t want to have to tie you down just to get some sleep.”

You slump bonelessly in his arms, scowling. He was right, and you were too tired and sore to do anything about it.

“Good girl,” he coos in your ear, stroking your body as he feels you give up. “I’ll take you to my doctor tomorrow to get you patched up. This pretty face shouldn’t be all banged up,” he says, laying a sloppy kiss on your cheek, one hand coming up under your chin to hold your head steady. Your only form of protest is the silent tears pouring down your face.

“Try not to give me a reason to make it look like this again.”

#terry silver #thomas ian griffith #terry silver x reader #karate kid #kk3 #the karate kid 3 #smut #dark desires october #extremely dark #graphic smut #trigger warnings aplenty

[twigg96]

Hello my sweet lovelies. It is in fact time. For Daryl’s Naughty HCs 😈 Cut after the gif because it’s gonna get spicy 🌶️ I hope you enjoy part 2 of this 52 HC journey I went on with him part 1 here!

A - After Care (How do they treat their partner after sex?)

When Daryl was a younger man he would have simply laid on his back after a good orgasm, and passed out. He’d deal with the wet sheets in the morning. But now that he’s older wiser and truth be told a little more experienced he took pride in his aftercare routine.

He’d kiss his partner sweetly, rutting into them til they were both fucked dry and their highs were completely fizzled out like the passing starlight above them. He be singing praises about them. About their bodies, how amazing they were during and how beautiful they looked after.

He’d let them lie limp as he pulled out leaving them only for a few minutes as he ran a hot bath setting out their favorite scented body wash. Getting a small protein snack from the kitchen hed set it by the tub before carrying them into the bathroom and setting them in the water kissing their forehead. He’d let them bathe in peace.

He’d get clean sheets out and ready to change while his partner bathed having already washed off and cleaned his downstairs bits he’d throw on a pair of boxers throwing the dirty sheets to be washed later.

When his partner was done and dried coming out of the bath he was waiting. His arms wide open to flop onto the bed ready to simply cuddle and sleep with his partner, running his fingers through their hair.

B - Body Part (What is their own favorite body part? What is their favorite about their partner?)

Daryl is particularly proud of his fingers and his own dick when he was feeling confident. The callouses on his fingers and thumb feel so good inside of you that make you shiver and loan each time he simply touches you and he loves that little bit of power he holds. Knowing that with just a touch he could mold you to his whim if he only asked. They are long and thick and he can hit that one spot inside of you that turns you to mush and spills your sweet honey all over them every time he used them. And while he gets extraordinarily self conscience about the scars on his back and being naked in general but for you... he would show it all just to make you more comfortable.

God Daryl is in love with your body he would worship you every chance he had if you let him. He is a thigh, ass, belly, and chest man. He wants to touch you. He needs something to hold onto while he fucks you into the bed. He wants to leave marks all over your body. To feel you and to bite down on your flesh and mark it as his own.

C - Cum (Where do they cum? Cum HCs)

Before the turn he would have very proudly claimed his breeding kink. He would have filled his partner up to the brim each and every time with no regrets. But now that the world is how it is and the thought of a little one gives him hives instead of butterflies. He ruefully pulls out and finishes in his hand or on the ground. He had tried finishing on your face, on your body. But it never felt right. He felt so bad making you so dirty like that. Almost disrespectful to waist what he so desperately wanted to use. But when you sucked him off after... when you drank him down even when he told you nearly begging you not to for his moans would be so loud he wouldn't be able to hide them from the walkers and the townsfolk outside... his body convulsing from overstimulation and wrapping around your head to keep from loosing control and fucking your mouth. That was the best compromise he could ever think of having.

D - Dirty Secret (Do they have anything sexually they would never tell another living soul?)

Holy shit yes. Daryl is extremely reserved and conservative. He would never tell another living soul about his sex life and his partner to begin with. But that being said... there are things he's wanted to try in the bedroom that he hasn't even dared bring up with you for fear of sounding like a madman or making you run off.

He has always wanted to try blood stuff. That didn't involve knives. Too dangerous for his taste. He was more interested in the existing blood. He found that... recently he was coming to like the taste of it. So if his partner would simply let him kiss their cuts and lick them. Maybe let him bite them til they bled to mark them as his and his alone he would be satisfied. He also wasn’t turned off to the idea of if his partner had a period trying to get his red wings.

He kind of liked the idea of cross dressing for his partner. If they wanted it of course. If they wanted to see him in that hot tight maid's dress he'd do it... once. Ya know for the experience.

He also wasn’t entirely turned off to the idea of being pegged. He heard the prostrate was sensitive once and tried fingering himself once as in his twenties and it was… different. Not something he’d do alone again but then again he didn’t find that button he heard about and maybe a partner could help him with that… They simply could never tell another living soul. That was their thing. Not all of Alexandria’s.

E - Experience Do they know what their doing with the tools they got? Is their first time or have they been around the block a few times?)

Believe it or not, Daryl is a complete virgin the first time you both have sex. He wasn’t out there saving himself for marriage or anything. He was just young and inexperienced like any teenager.

Your first time is anxious and hesitant. In an old abandoned shed you both called your safe place in the mountains, Daryl had to stop when when you started getting fidgety on the back of his bike. It had started to rain and both of you were soaked to the bone as you ran into the leaky rusted building. You were freezing, shivering, your teeth chattering despite it being midsummer the rain was rather cool. Daryl stripped you of your jacket and shirt. "Shit, yer gonna catch pneumonia if ya keep shakin' like that babe." He whispered, but you could see his own lips turning a light shade of blue. Before you knew it you both stood, mostly naked in front of each other a fire burning in front of you both working to dry out your clothing that hung on a line you packed for emergencies. Only your underwear and Daryl's drenched shirt keeping you two separate as you laid on the tarp Daryl used to cover his bike keeping you both separated from the cold ground. But things were getting heated. More than they ever had. Hands were roaming over bodies. Fingers entangled in each other's hair. Tongues swirled and moans drifted through the air freely. You didn't even have the chance to straddle him properly before he was rutting, clothed into your core desperately already dirty simply from the thought of the act. Lust clouding his eyes, mouth agape and drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Sometimes now that the turn has happened and even though you've been together for years and you both have more experience. If the two of you haven't been together intimately in a long time, he slips back into this. Desperate, whiny, uncontrollable as if it's the first time all over again.

F - Favorites (What is their favorite position? Favorite flavor lube? Favorite genre of porn?)

Daryl will never turn down doggy style. He loves having his partner bent over, face in the pillow, fucking them into submission. However he absolutely preferred face to face fucking. Your legs over his shoulders as he went slow and sensual all the time in the world to just you both in the moment was his absolute favorite feeling.

Daryl doesn't just go around tasting lube... but... if anyone asked for a recommendation he would always recomend the ones that taste like rocket pops. You always seemed to like that one and if he ever had to use it he never minded the taste. It didn't taste fake as shit like the other ones normally did.

Back when porn was a commodity Merle used to bring a much too young Daryl into the adult stores to "become a man". He would stare up at the large cardboard cut outs of naked women and just think of how nice their hair looked. When he was older he started getting into Impregnation Porn. It was an accident. Maybe even a prank Merle tried pulling on Daryl when he was renting videos from the store because it wasn't his normal "hard core" stuff (his normal stuff at that point was missionary with the occasional gay film hidden away from Merle in there.) Maybe Merle wanted to scare him into some harder genres. But it all it ended up doing was reinforcing his choices.

G - Giggles (Are they more serious and down to business during the do or are they willing to play around and joke?)

Daryl very serious when he has sex. He gets kind of offended when his partner laughs at him during, unless he's the one laughing first. You can thank his horrible lack of self confidence and his past abuse history for it... And though you try to make it better for him, trying to lighten him up and ease the situation. He never really relaxed fully with this.

H - Hair (How well groomed are they? Do they have body hair? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

In the apocalypse there isn’t really much of an importance that’s shined on the topic of grooming. You’d be lucky if you got Daryl to wash off in the bath and clean under his nails before dicking you down let along trimming his bush. If you want him to trim the jungle and manscape you’re going to have to either force him to do it himself, or simply do it yourself.

I - Intimacy (How romantic are they during the moment? Do they like it slow and loving?)

It really depends on when you have sex now a days. There are times when you both strip so fast your clothes tear from your frame. Your teeth clash as you kiss. Your nails leave long streaks down each others skin and you both fuck each other hard and senseless.

But there are times you both need the intimacy of slow loving sex. And Daryl needs it more than others in the community. Or at least that’s what you’ve gathered through the grapevine of gossip in the community. And you were fine with that.

Daryl loved to love on every inch of you. Showing you just how much he missed you. Kissing every square inch of your body. Making you cum in more ways than one before he would ever think about touching himself his fingers would skate your skin and his nails would massage your scalp as he rutted slowly lovingly into you looking deep into your eyes. Kissing you so deep and passionate that you were sure you were both becoming one. And in a way you were. And Daryl loved it when you did.

J- Jack Off (How often do they masturbate if at all? What to?)

Daryl doesn’t jack off much at all. Only when he physically has to does he touch himself (he finds the act disgusting and wrong if he has work to be done and a partner to help him) but he also knows how natural the need is. He grew up with Merle after all. (A boy who held no shame in the act and never hid his crunchy socks.) So he wasn’t ashamed of the act if he needed to do it.

Daryl liked to think of you when he did it. Nothing in particular. He didn’t have any memory or anything he went back to. But he liked to remember you in the shower or bathing. All wet and glistening. He liked to remember the suds running down your back as you watched your hair remembering what it felt like to touch your skin when it was wet with sweat. He remembered you moaning his name. Closing his eyes he could imagine your breath on his hot skin as he got close. He remembered pulling you close the smell of your hair as he came deep inside you a fantasy he held only for himself when he was doing this.

K- Kink (List of Kinks they have)

Daryl isn’t as extreme as most men as previously stated from his choices in porn. He really is quite “vanilla” for most people’s standards. Not that he can’t be trained but he gets nervous. In the new world things can be dangerous so quickly if it’s done improperly. The last thing he’d ever want to do is hurt or worse kill his partner trying to please them.

Anal - Daryl will eat ass. All day. Any day. Give him lube and proper time to prep his partner he will fuck their ass. He will even let his partner eat and fuck his ass if they asked nicely. But it’s not his favorite. No where near his favorite.

Blood Play - This was one he wanted to try but could wait on if his partner wasn’t into it.

Spanking - God the sound of his hand on your ass was magic to him every time it connected. He loved it.

Hand Fetish - Hands could do wonderful things when put to a good use.

Edging - The more overwhelmingly overstimulated you both got the better it was for him.

Pregnancy/Impregnation - god he really loved to imagine his life with you all knocked up with his baby. He always wanted to be a father. But with the risks so high… his imagination and a few fun nights had to do.

Rough Sex - The more brusied, bitten, and battered you both were in the morning the happier he was.

Sex toys - When in doubt. Bring out a little help.

Barebacking - Sex without a condom was one of his favorite feelings in the whole world. Especially so now that the risks were so high.

Face fucking/Face sitting - pleasure til you both die happy

L - Location (Where do they like to do it most?)

Daryl doesn’t like to take many risks with his partner. If you have sex it’s somewhere safe and secure. Somewhere no walkers or people can find you. And trust me. He knows lots of places out and about no one checks.

If you’re both out on a run and get in the mood. He may fuck you on his bike. If you’re lucky and there’s no geeks around. But it’s always a really messy quickie. Daryl prefers to pull over properly and fuck you good and proper.

One time he did fuck you in the middle of a horde in a store you both were stuck in. But he insisted you were just passing time. And the thrill of being forced to stay deadly silent was just to much to ignore.

M - Motivation (What makes them horny?)

The littlest things could make Daryl horny in the right circumstances. The sun shining off the sweat of your skin. The way you take down walkers. How bad ass you are. Or maybe how sweet and sensitive you are with the kids in Alexandria. It’s the small things that get him going that make him start and not wanna stop.

N-NO (Turn offs or things they would refuse to do.)

Daryl will never objectify another human being ever especially not his partner. If they want to be called names during he gets really offended because he thinks that they see him as mean, intimidating, insulting, and cruel. He will shut down and that could possibly end the relationship.

On the flip side. If his partner is into degrading or insulting him. Daryl will end the relationship right then and there. No questions asked. He’s not about to be insulted every moment of every day in his own mind and just when he needs it most in the moment of TLC his partner turns and insults him too. He’d be devastated. He may never talk to you ever again.

He would never knowingly hurt you. He’s not willing to choke you. Or bind you up. He was never into the hardcore shit Merle was into. So even if you begged him to choke you or tie you up he’d refuse. He wouldn’t break up with you over though instead he’d maybe try to find a safe way to go about it if you insisted it was your thing. Like instead of handcuffs and rope which could be seriously deadly now he’d offer tying you down with the sheets loose enough for you to slip through or simply pinning your hands down so you couldn’t move.

No weapon play at all. He wasn’t about to get stabbed or shot while fucking that wasn’t even an option for him.

If someone ever asked him to do some Cock and Ball torture for fun… he may shoot them on sight.

O - Oral (Do they like to give or receive? How good are they at it?)

Both.

Daryl is a regular stamp collector and will happily go down on his partner with out complaining any day any time. He lives for their pleasure. He wants their legs quaking and their juices flowing several times over before he does anything else.

On the flip side however he is not ashamed to ask for a little loving himself. He’s not scared to open his legs and gentle you down to his cock watching you size him up before licking him all up. His fingers digging into the back of your hair he guides you down on his cock. Up and down til you gag and swallow him completely and utterly.

P - Pace (Are they sensual and slow or fast and rough? Do they switch things up at all or is it a set pace?)

Daryl tries to switch things up and make each time he spent with you unique and interesting. If he fucked you hard and fast one time the next he may love you slow and sensitively. But neither of you had the luxury of choice. When passion struck and the mood hit he simply took advantage of whatever he was given a lot of time. If that meant a quickie in the truck ok the way back from a run that meant stripping down to nothing and slipping to the backseat and making a mess of the leather. If that meant you both were alone and had all night then he took his sweet time praising your body every way he possibly could imagine.

Q - Quickies (How do they feel about a good old fashioned quickie?)

He loves them. Sometimes all the time you two have is twenty minutes and he’ll make sure that’s enough time to unzip and fuck you good before you both had to return to your duties.

R - Risk (Are they game to try new things? Will they experiment with their bodies or are they more conservative with their views?)

In the apocalypse everything new was a calculated risk that needed to be weighed effectively. A new position could feel great but could cost more than just an arm or a leg if one of you fell and broke wrist or an ankle. Experimenting with new techniques or new tools in the bedroom could cause injuries and a lack of proper technique in the field. It would be really embarrassing if you had to explain your sex injury to the doctor the next morning so you both agreed to talk new ideas and interests out in advance so you could be as safe as possible. No risks calculated or not.

S - Stamina (How long can they last? How many rounds?)

😏 all night given a few breaks and a bottle of water. He can go at least once but at most four times in one night if you give him the chance and give him proper pillow talk and sex talk after each round to recharge

T- Toys (Do they own any toys? Do they use them on themselves or on their partner?)

No. Well at least he didn’t before he met you. After meeting you however he found a cute little vibe bullet and an anal toy. There are two sets of both. One for you and one for him for safety. But he’d never tell a soul about his own.

U - Unfair (How much do they like to tease their partners? How do they do so?)

Daryl isn’t cruel in bed. He will always let his partner cum when they beg to cum. He loved the moans they made when he teased them. He loved how they whined and begged for him crying out his name when he touched them with featherlight fingers and biting them leaving his mark in bruises and teeth marks around their bodies. Teasing them with just the tip of his cock he waited until they begged for more before pushing the whole way in and rocked their world.

V- Volume (How loud are they in the bedroom What sounds do they make during?)

This man is and always has been quiet in the sheets. Most of his cries of pleasure are groans or grunts. Sometimes he will whine and writhe when he is really over the edge but he will always cry out his partner’s name as he cums panting and moaning in their ear.

W- Wild Card (Random HC! Could be a mini fic, could be a song choice, could be a gif... >.> Ya'll never know lol)

X- X-Ray (Sneak Peak under the clothes ;)

Daryl has the ultimate dad bod. He’s hairy and ripped under just enough fluff that he’s perfect for sleeping on. He has scars littering his body that he is extremely self conscious about. But his length was average sized at 5 and a half inches. He didn’t mind. It was thick enough for him and his partner to enjoy. He has tattoos that lay on his chest, his arms and his legs he got when he was young and dumb. Some are deeply meaningful. Some are stupid and experiences he never wished to forget. Like the stick and poke you gave him after your first night drinking or the quick shitty tattoo you gave him after buying your first tattoo gun.

Y- Yearning (How high is their sex drive? How much do they want sex?)

If he had a choice. He would fuck you every morning to wake up and every night before bed. But the world you both lived in simply didn’t work that way. And so he did his best to give you what he physically could when he could.

Z - Zzzz (How fast do they pass out after sex is over?)

The archer used to fall asleep as soon as he came whether his partner came or not. His poor body simply became overwhelmed and overloaded. Now however he can go hours after sex before he physically needs rest. He credits the apocalypse for his sexual prowess.

#twd #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead #twd daryl #daryl dixion smut #naughty #graphic smut #smut #daryl dixon #spicy content #spicy stuff #spicy #spicy smut #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #daryl imagines #daryl dixion imagine #Spotify

[ghnbear]

the latest manhwa I've read

1. someone else's.

It's surprising how your expectations about the main couple are destroyed and yet it turns out being very nice. there's this scene where they dresses as drag and one of the boys is in high heels, which is hurting him. that scene you are like "🤨 hmm I wonder if" and it is!!! love ittttt

2. back to school

this got me depressed for real. I can't really explain why. I also think that this was one of the authors who was with old xian in 19 days but I didn't surch to confirm it, and i think of it because the main characters are similar to 19 days. I think that the sad thing about its the main character putting a effort to come closer to the president of the class and actually being friends with him and trying to get along again I the class, even going to a trip with them and then THE OTHER GUY FROM HIS PAST START TO MESS UP WITH HIMMMMA AAAA that is annoying and it made me so angry I wish I could be a character of that manhwa and beat him up with my strong arms that I don't have. I highly recommend, but it has a looootttt of triggers that the author doesn't bother to like HIGHLIGHT them as crimes.

3. wolf in the house

4. na hao and shang feng

5. get out of my house

6. sheep's maks

7. cover up

8.love plan

9. how to snag an alpha

10. I wanna sleep with you wearing glasses

#cute manhwa #bl manhwa #boys love #boys love webtoon #funny manhwa #manhwa recommendation #webtoons recommendations #yaoi #graphic smut #bl smut

[late-to-the-fandom]

Renathal is a prince who needs a great deal of rescuing. The Maw Walker is a Nightborne with a soft spot for rebellions. It’s a match made in the Shadowlands. Complete!

Click here to read the entire series on Ao3. Asks, headcanons, and other sundry for this series are tagged at #Renathal x Maw Walker. Coverart above is by the amazing @ph-arrt

Taking the Tremaculum

Prince Renathal struggles to come to terms with his time in the Maw and his relationship with his Maw Walker during the Venthyr's covenant assault on the Tremaculum. Rated T for light sexual references | 4,751 words

The Harvester of Dominion

The stress of running a rebellion is affecting Renathal's sex life. The Maw Walker is as helpful as ever. Or, how Renathal got his groove back. Rated E for explicit smut | 4,709 words

An Ember Court to Remember

"Bedding the realm's champion did hold the potential to complicate his rebellion, but Renathal had decided he could overlook this. Partly because he trusted the Maw Walker completely, and partly because he really wanted to." In which the Prince and the Maw Walker hook up for the first time after an unusual Ember Court. Rated M for smut | 8,249 words

Interrupted

It’s just a Renathal/Maw Walker smut drabble. Rated E for explicit smut | 1,089 words

Keys for All Occasions: The Maw

The Maw Walker saves the Prince in this one. In which Renathal and the Maw Walker meet for the first time. Rated G | 8,306 words

Lost Souls

When the Maw Walker burns out on Torghast runs, it's Renathal's turn to provide assistance. Rated M for smut | 3,306 words

Keys for All Occasions: Rebellion

"I fear it is a lost cause we are fighting here." "You're in luck. Lost causes are my specialty." In which Renathal and the Maw Walker take the Master. Rated G | 6,943 words

Last Minute Preparations

The Maw Walker and the Prince have some important preparations to attend to before the Ember Court. (Hint: it’s smut) Rated E for explicit smut | 2,359 words

A Spilled Tea

In which Renathal solves a mystery involving the Maw Walker and the Mad Duke. Rated G | 3,131 words

Eternity (Part 1) (Part 2)

When the Maw Walker doesn't die in the line of duty, Renathal is determined to finally figure out why. Obligatory “one of them is injured!” fic, with bonus points for only one bed. Rated E for explicit smut (Part 2 only) | 10,589 words (total)

Heroes of Hallow's End

Hallow's End Ember Court is fancy dress. There's some confusion about who's who. Rated G | 1,258 words

Keys for All Occasions: Cicatrix

Renathal is neither a prisoner in the Maw, nor entirely himself again, but a secret, third thing only the Maw Walker notices (traumatised). Rated T for angst and mild sexual tension | 9,135 words

Interrupted, Again

Renathal is neither a prisoner in the Maw, nor entirely himself again, but a secret, third thing only the Maw Walker notices (traumatised). Rated E for explicit smut | 2,382 words

Masters of Revendreth (Part 1: Things Seen) (Part 2: Things Unseen)

Twice, Renathal realised Revendreth was his. The two occurrences could not have been more different. Rated T for sexual references (part 1) and angst (part 2) | 4,731 (total)

Vices and Vows

An unpleasant rumour prompts a painful admission from Renathal and a promise from the Maw Walker. Rated M for smut | 5,348 words

Perfect: A Maw Walker Perspective

A little Renathal/Maw Walker smut drabble from the Maw Walker's perspective. Rated E for explicit smut | 1,230 words

Once Upon a Winter's Veil

The fluffiest of Winter Veil gift exchanges. Rated T for oblique sexual references | 1,862 words

Mortal Reminders (Part 1: An Illusion!) (Part 2: What are you hiding?)

In which Renathal's quest to learn more about the Maw Walker is almost as difficult and time consuming as the quest after which this story is named. Rated T for angst and sexual references | 15,728 words (total)

Dances with Venthyr

The Maw Walker books the Lost Chalice Band for the Ember Court, and under no circumstances is Renathal to dance with her. The lost dance scene referenced in "An Ember Court to Remember". Rated T for oblique sexual references | 1,546 words

The Threads of Fate

The time has come for the Maw Walker to choose the end of her experience in the Shadowlands (with help from the Prince of Revendreth). Rated M for smut | 6,720 words

The Reservoir: Drabbles from the Light & Shadows Universe

Instinct - Renathal & the Maw Walker engage in heated competition. Illusion - The Maw Walker wages war on Venthyr formal wear. Forest - Renathal & Thetoar reinstitute their long-standing prank war. Children - The Maw Walker brings snowfall to Revendreth. Damage - Renathal and the Maw Walker argue over Vorpalia. Unnatural - Renathal escalates the prank war. Endless- Renathal shows the Maw Walker her new accommodations. Love is in the Air - The Maw Walker teaches Renathal a lesson.

All drabbles rated G (except Love is in the Air rated M for discussed smut).

#Renathal fanfiction #Prince Renathal #Light and Shadows #Renathal x Maw Walker #wow fanfiction #world of warcraft #shadowlands #Revendreth #Venthyr #The Ember Court #Smut #Graphic Smut #Non-graphic smut #romance #fluff #drabbles #series #nightborne #suramar #the accuser #the accuser x the curator

[gilbert-beilschmidt-fucker]

5 posts!

#5 posts #tumblr milestone #hetalia #aph axis #axis powers hetalia #axis powers ヘタリア #graphic smut #sans undertale

[becca-e-barnes]

Bucky pinning you down so you can’t squirm and he’s just sitting inside you while he tortures your clit feeling you clench around him. He makes you cum over and over until he finally cums.

Overstimulation + super soldier stamina = …

- 🍯

Dear God, I know I just don't have it in me to behave during cock-warming. When it comes down to it, I genuinely have no patience at all 😵‍💫

"You..." Bucky begins, pressing you down onto the bed before gripping your ankles and forcing you to flip over onto your front. "Have a problem with control."

With your face turned away from him, you can't help but smile to yourself. No one has ever said it out loud but you know he's right.

Being in control is where you're most comfortable. No hands are safer than your own. Except maybe his. You know he won't fuck this up.

"And you..." He continues, gathering your wrists behind your back, holding them tightly with one hand. "Need to learn how it feels to have control taken from you. Do you understand?"

As soon as you begin to nod your head, you feel him start to tape around your wrists, holding them together behind your back. Once he's content they're secure, he sits on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror before he pulls you onto his lap.

"Legs spread over the top of mine." He orders and you do as you're told, not because you have to but because you want to.

You notice the way your cunt is already glistening in the mirror and you're almost embarrassed because he hasn't even touched you yet.

"Fuck, you're made for this." He groans, lining his cock up to your slick entrance and you wonder if he's holding his breath too while he slides into you, as deep as your bodies will allow.

You're obsessed with the sight in front of you; your own naked body, with your legs spread so far apart you can see how your cunt is stuffed full of him.

Being shorter though, your feet can't touch the ground like this. There's no way you'll get enough leverage to fuck yourself on him but as soon as you start to tell him that, he silences you with two thick fingers between your lips.

"I'm not letting you fuck me." His free hand roams over your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples and then settling between your spread thighs.

"I'm going to play with you. I'm going to see how much you can take. I'm going to work out exactly how you like your clit stroked and I'm going to do that until your legs are shaking and your body won't let you cum any more. Maybe then I'll fuck you but sweetheart, that will be hours from now." His breath is hot against the side of your face, his fingers slipping from your mouth to your waist while he starts to flick gently against your clit.

"I'm going to start slowly. I'm going to do everything I can to drag this out as long as possible. I can feel every clench and flutter of this pretty little cunt and I'm going to enjoy it until you're dripping over my balls." At this rate, it won't be long until you're dripping onto the carpet, never mind over him. You dreamed he'd want to take control like this but you never imagined the way your body would respond.

"And then, when you've cum more times than you can handle, I'm going to tell you that I love you while I fuck you like I don't."

Update: Part 2

#asks answered <3 #becca writes spice #🍯 anon #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #dom!bucky #I think this might be one of my favourites that I've written recently #That last line has been my go - to fantasy this week #it's come into my head every morning when I'm walking to the train #and I planned to write an exploration of it today #but you know #I like it just left there like that for now #I've spent most of my free time trying to book a mid-week city break #but I don't know where to start #I got a new piercing this week and I love it!! #but I was in work on Friday talking about it #and our graphic designer asked how many piercings I had #so I told him I have 8. So 3 in each ear #and the expression on his face was just pure maths #he didn’t question it lmao

[changbunnies]

Desire, (18+)

♡ Pairing: Wolf Hybrid!Bang Chan x Fem Bunny Hybrid!Reader x Wolf Hybrid!Changbin

♡ Genre: little red riding hood au, fantasy/supernatural au, hybrid au, allusions to omegaverse dynamics, porn with plot, sequel to scent of you, past dubcon from part 1 is discussed

♡ Word Count: 10.9k (i have got to stop doing this, my god)

♡ Summary: In which the bunny hybrid “little red” has been unable to forget her past encounter with the wolves of the forest, and goes to seek them out for more fun together- while also being in the throes of her heat. 

♡ Warnings: same as before; uses the little red riding hood fairytale as a base for inspiration, words like "alpha" and other omegaverse terms aren't used but the vibes are There

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): reader is in heat so... yeah, pet names (though mostly as a title- bunny, little red, and sweetheart), more use of the word slut + gendered language, dom/sub dynamics (dom!chan, switchy!changbin, sub!reader), lots of kissing, size difference, size kink (again i'm sorry if you're tall, pls suspend ur disbelief for the dynamic fsdgsdf), outdoor sex :'), manhandling, unprotected piv, dacryphilia, orgasm control + denial, subtle mxm may not actually be all that subtle + more of the onesided rivalry between binchan lol, mates / mating, biting, nipple play, overstim, multiple orgasms, choking kinda? reader just gets held by the neck lol, handjob, cum eating, multiple creampies

♡ Notes: this is a sequel to scent of you, which you can read here! so i fully intended to still be on a small break and this was not supposed to be a series but i literally could not stop thinking about what would happen next for them and i had to write it :’) i hope you enjoy <3 

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

A frustrated sigh leaves your lips as you stare up at your barren ceiling, sweat dripping from your brow as your limbs grow tired and ache with exertion. How long had it been since the night you got lost deep in the woods, only to be found by Chan and Changbin? Two wolves who you would still think you imagined were it not for the note they left behind, clear evidence that everything you experienced with them was real. It wasn’t something your psyche conjured while lost and alone in the dark woods, the pleasure wasn’t a vivid dream made in an attempt to cope with the reality that you were lost- everything about them, about that night, was entirely real.

You can still remember how you tucked your note away into a pocket of your dress before you opened the cottage door, your grandmother scrambling up to her feet when she heard you enter, rushing off her bed and out of her room as fast as her weak legs could carry her. You met her halfway, catching her as she stumbled, her arms squeezing you tight as relief washed over her. You knew she must’ve been beside herself with worry, but actually experiencing it made guilt strike your heart like lightning; and when you opened your mouth to speak, she simply shushed you, requiring no explanation. 

Your grandmother wasn’t stupid, she knew a predator had caught you- your cape was torn in several places and you positively reeked of wolf, but rather than comment on it, she was simply grateful you were back home in one piece. There were very few things a rabbit could do to ensure their survival against a wolf, and she was wise enough not to pick at the fresh wound you may very well harbor for having done the unspeakable in exchange for your life. 

She let the topic of wolves die right then and there before it could even be spoken, simply dedicating herself to stitching your cape back together, doing her best to make it appear as if it had never torn at all. And not being forced to discuss what happened that night was certainly a relief, but not for the reasons your grandmother might expect. Because how would you explain to her that you actually liked the wolves that had found you in the deep, dark woods that night?

It’s utterly shameful how even now you still think of them, how their touch still feels engraved in your skin even as each season comes and goes. Shameful, how you look at that note they left behind as a sign that they’d want you back in their arms, that perhaps they think of you as much as you think of them. And they knew where you lived, they could easily seek you out whenever they pleased, but they never had. 

You assume it to be for the same reason they likely left you outside instead of carrying you to the front door of your cottage, or opening the door to bring you inside your home- because you lived with your grandmother, and what would that poor, frail woman do if she was confronted with the sight of two massive wolves holding her precious granddaughter? But despite the logical reasonings, there was a part of you that still felt.. rejected, somehow? 

It was fucking dumb, you knew this, but you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling that way. You just wanted to see them again so badly, to look at them and touch them and let them touch you and bask in the warmth of their skin, to lay yourself against their massive bodies and revel in how feeling small was good in their presence. Safety, protection- the complete opposite of what you should feel from them, the complete opposite of what you felt when you first laid eyes on Chan and then on Changbin, but somehow by the end of the night, that had all changed. 

To further complicate matters, your heats have since made the disgraceful yearning you feel exponentially worse, your mind flooded by the memory of them, your body aching to feel them again, every nerve inside you practically screaming for their touch. You are typically quite prepared for your heats, often stocking up on the herbs needed to brew natural remedies meant to make your symptoms more bearable so that you can be an effective caretaker for your ill grandmother, and they usually did well enough for you. 

Of course, it’s not a magic cure-all, nor does it completely alleviate any of the discomfort you feel, but it’s enough; and you still need to make yourself cum a couple times before the night is over, but you can at least go about your day with little issue until the remedies effect begins to wane. This week, and tonight specifically, was supposed to be more of the same- prepare dinner, get grandmother comfortably into bed, and then take care of yourself in the privacy of your room.

If all went as expected, you’d feel satisfied enough to get some sleep, the next day you’d start your morning by brewing and drinking your homemade tea to calm your nerves, bring down your heightened temperature, and ease any aches you may experience. You’d carry on through any remaining discomfort as best you could as you spent another day taking care of your responsibilities until night came, rinse and repeat for essentially a week until your heat eventually recedes and you can go back to your daily tasks as normal. 

Why had it become so different after meeting Chan and Changbin? While going through a heat without a partner is never a comfortable experience, what you experienced now was downright unbearable; nothing you did to calm yourself or your body ever seemed good enough, none of your orgasms satisfying enough to dull the incessant need for something more, your only relief coming from driving yourself to utter exhaustion, when your body would be forced to give itself to sleep.

It didn’t make sense- it’s not like you were a virgin before you met them, you had your fair share of fun experiences with a few trusted friends of yours before you moved in with your grandmother to care for her. So certainly, while you weren’t exactly super promiscuous in your personal life, you were no stranger to sex, and you never fixated on your past partners during your heat the way you do now with Chan and Changbin. 

If you had to guess, it must be because of how different they were. Nothing about them was familiar, and that brought a unique sort of excitement you’d yet to feel again since that night had come to an end. Could that feeling be replicated with another rabbit? You weren’t sure- and even if it could be done, would you want them over the two wolves? That was another thing you’d found yourself stuck on lately; was it them specifically that you wanted, or just a similar experience, in which anyone would do as long as they successfully replicated the sensations? 

Either way, you spent yet another night in unsatisfied yearning, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could take it. And your poor grandmother would suffer for it, as your scorching fever and addled mind made your ability to care for her deteriorate. Compounding on that even further, your longing for them was becoming increasingly heightened as you became more and more desperate for relief- a desperation that would drive you to make foolish decisions you wouldn’t otherwise make. 

You look again at the note the two wolves left behind, clutching it tightly in your hand as you consider what you should do next. If you go see them again, grandmother will know- their scent will be all over you when you return, and what will you say? Will you admit you liked them and sought them out on purpose, or will you make up some stupid excuse, blaming your every decision solely on your heat, chalking your choices up to a lapse in judgment brought on by your need for relief? 

But the simple truth is that it isn’t just your heat that makes you want to see them again, and even if you did place all of the blame there, it wouldn’t change what you have come to realize about yourself. The shameful reality is that you’re attracted to wolves- those two wolves in particular, and no one but them will be able to grant you the specific relief you seek. 

And you know how dangerous it is to leave your home when you’re in heat- your scent could attract far more than just Chan and Changbin, and truthfully speaking, there is no guarantee that you will find them before someone else finds you first. You’d be walking blindly, mirroring what you’d done the first time you were lost in the woods at night, though this time with the explicit hope that you’d be found by them. 

It’s dangerous, it’s foolish, you absolutely should not go into the woods at night looking for a fucking wolf- but that’s exactly what you do. Not even bothering to change out of your nightgown and into proper outdoor attire, you opt for tying on your cape and pulling up the hood, knowing they will instantly recognize you if you’re wearing it (as if they need more than just your scent to identify you in the first place.)

Just in case, you hastily write a note for your grandmother in the event that you aren’t back before morning, apologizing as you explain in the briefest of terms that you needed to soothe your growing ache. She’ll understand, you hope- she was young herself once, and surely she remembered what this feeling was like. And foolish though your choice may be, you hope she’ll sympathize and scold you lovingly instead of harshly upon your return. 

The night air feels impossibly cold on your fevered skin, but it’s hardly a deterrent- in fact, you welcome the way the wind chills your sweat, a small, but much appreciated form of relief before you hopefully experience what you truly wish to. Honestly speaking, you have absolutely no fucking clue where you are going; there is no path to follow to their den, no landmark for you to use in an attempt to guide yourself to your destination. You simply wander in the direction you hope is correct, praying the one (or ideally both) of the two wolves you so wish to find stumbles upon you. 

You glance up at the sky, the waning moon and countless stars shining back at you; a full moon is coming, and you wonder if they even have time to play with you at all. You don’t know all that much about wolves outside of what is required for self preservation, but you do know that the full moon is important to them; will they even entertain you right now? Maybe this truly is a fool’s errand, maybe you’re making a mistake and getting yourself lost for nothing, maybe-

Suddenly you’re being grabbed, body being forcibly turned around and back shoved harshly against a thick tree you’d passed just moments prior. Your breath hitches, and your nose recognizes who it is before your eyes do- it’s Changbin, caging you in and looking down at you with a clenched jaw, his claws digging into the bark of the tree he has you pressed against, clearly trying very hard to control himself. 

“Y/N-” he breathes, voice strained as he uses your given name for the first time, and hearing it from him makes a new, fresh wave of heat crawl over your body. “What are you doing walking around out here smelling like that? Are you insane?” Unable to control yourself now that he’s close, you immediately grab at his shirt, twisting the fabric in your hands as you look up at him with pleading, glassy eyes. 

“B-Binnie, I- I was looking for you, needed to find you,” you explain, your voice embarrassingly weak with desperation, “need you and Channie to help me, please.” His grip tightens, you realize- the sound of wood cracking and splitting audible just behind your head. “Please? I’ll be a good bunny for you again, I promise, please help me,” you continue to plead, shamelessly pawing at him, begging for him to accept your advances. 

Holy shit, are you seriously doing this to him right now? Begging him to take care of you? Him? A wolf? A rabbit begging a wolf for something like this is completely unheard of, only occurring within his wild fantasies. To be quite frank, he was aware that the first time with you was coercion- he and his elder saw a meek, defenseless rabbit, and they took their chances. He had his fun, and while you did too when things really got going, he fully expected that to be it, though he hoped otherwise. 

And God, he can’t even believe how reckless you’re being; what if it was one of the other wolves patrolling this area tonight that found you instead of him? He can only imagine how the younger wolves in the pack would react to your scent right now- he’s barely keeping himself in control as it, and he has much more experience with these matters than them. He clenches his teeth as his gaze trails away from your eyes and down your body, where your nightgown leaves very little unexposed, where you are very clearly pressing your thighs together as you stare up at thim, expectant and hopeful. 

Fuck. You really want this, don’t you? “Fuck, yeah, okay, just-” Changbin says as he picks you up, tossing all his responsibilities aside as you’re lifted from the ground and cradled in his arms, “just hang on, we’ll go find him, okay? We’ll help you.” And he’s trying, he’s really fucking trying to control himself and not just throw you down on the ground right here and have you all to himself, but you’re making it increasingly harder to maintain focus on the task at hand as he winds his way through the forest. 

Chan’s scent is barely discernible over the way yours intensely fills his nostrils, and even when he does manage to pick up on his elder’s location, he can hardly even focus in on it. And your hands wont stop roaming over his skin, you press your body to his as much as you can manage, absolutely desperate for contact. He can hear you panting despite the fact that all he’s doing is holding you, can feel your body tremble in his arms, can smell the slick that steadily leaks from your core. And to put it simply, Changbin is a weak man, and your desperation is utterly infectious. 

But still, he holds strong; that is, until you start pressing kisses to any patch of his skin you can reach, and when your breath hits his neck before your lips latch on to it, he feels completely done for. This is it. Fuck it. Chan can have his turn with you later- Changbin is the one that found you, it’s only fair that he has fun with you first, right? And besides, you’re acting positively insatiable right now- how is he supposed to hold off or say no? That’s quite literally asking him for the impossible. 

So he falls to his knees, your bodies tangled together on the grass in a matter of seconds, your clothes being thrown off in a flurry. Changbin rotates to his back, pulling you on top of him, deciding that he should still be a gentleman even when his composure is at its limits and not let your bare skin touch the dirty forest floor. He grabs your face, pulling you in to kiss him before you’re even fully settled on his lap; it’s a bit awkward, given the size difference between you, but he makes it work, curving and twisting his body however necessary to keep his lips on yours as you adjust your positioning. 

Your slick drips and pools, coating him entirely with no effort expended on either of your parts. He’s even bigger than you remember, and that feeling of pure adrenaline inducing excitement that you’ve missed so much finally returns to you. This is what you needed all this time, what you’ve been craving. You grab the base of Changbin’s cock with one of your hands and do your best to line it up with your hole- and again, it’s awkward due to the difference in size between you, but you’re determined to see this through.

“Wait, fuck, sweetheart-” Changbin gasps as you begin to sink down on him. He fully intended to get you prepped first, was going to pull you up after he got his fill of kisses and have you sit on his face, make you cum and loosen you up enough to take him, but apparently you felt that you’d waited long enough to have him inside you again. And you’re so fucking wet that the slide down is relatively easy; benefits to being in heat, you suppose- it makes your fervent desperation for cock come with far less sting.

And no doubt, there is still a sting- after all, your body isn’t made to take a size so disproportionate to your own, but all it does is further ignite the fire in your gut, the excitement swelling as you take more and more of him inside. Changbin uses one hand to bear his weight and keep himself propped up while the other holds your face in place, his tongue shoved in your mouth. 

He hardly lets you pull away for a breath before you’re dragged back to his lips, a deep, grumbly groan coming from deep in his chest when you meet his tongue with enthusiasm. Your palms are pressed firmly on his chest, your nails digging into the surprisingly soft flesh, your every moan and whine swallowed by his open mouth until your hips finally become flush with his. You know you should feel the utmost shame, desperate as you are for a wolf, stark naked and exposed in the open forest where anyone could stumble upon you, but all you feel is relief.

True, delightful relief, finally- Changbin gives you everything you need just as easily as you’d hoped he would. You mentally compared him to a puppy during your first meeting- desperate, easily excitable, cute in a way that juxtaposes his rough exterior. And you knew, just knew he’d never deny you if you offered yourself to him, because it’s simply not within him to do so. A desperate puppy with his equally desperate bunny- what better pairing could there be? 

And truly, you feel like heaven- your body, so small in comparison to his, makes you feel impossibly tight, your wet warmth utterly perfect and beyond compare; he could die right now, and feel that his life was entirely fulfilled. “Be a good girl, and show me how good bunnies can bounce,” Changbin breathes as he lets go of your face, now supporting himself with both arms as he leans himself back to watch you. He huffs out a small laugh when he feels you clench, pleased to find that words still have a profound effect on you. 

Changbin expected you to start slow, but maybe expecting a desperate little thing like you in the middle of her heat to show restraint wasn’t his brightest moment- because you’re bouncing fast, and fuck, he knew rabbits had strong legs and were notoriously skilled at bouncing, but what the fuck? You’re riding him like your life depends on it, which from your perspective may very well be true- you’ve been so pent up and unsatisfied that truthfully you couldn’t act any differently than this even if you wanted to. All you can think about, all that drives you, is your need to cum on Changbin’s cock- nothing else matters. 

Despite the fact that Changbin is using his arms and hands for the explicit purpose of keeping himself upright to watch you, you all but demand he brings them to you. It’s a pitiful attempt really, trying your best to learn forward enough to grab his hands without losing your balance on his lap and falling straight onto his chest, but thankfully he realizes what you’re going for and offers them to you before you can fully fall against him. 

His back once again touches the cool grass, with you intertwing your fingers as soon as his hands come to your own. His hands are much bigger than your own, fingers thicker, and you have to completely spread out your own fingers to even get them between his, but he squeezes your hands once you succeed. You use the additional support of his hands in yours as leverage for your bouncing, his arms strong and firm enough to help keep you upright and steady as you slide up and down his length. 

You can hear his tail thumping against the ground, a display of excitement and pleasure that he’ll never be able to disguise. Your nails dig into his knuckles, your bottom lip sucked between your teeth as you try to contain the noises that leave you, not wanting to alert the entire forest that you’re fucking right now (as if yours and Changbin’s combined scent doesn’t already give that truth away.) 

But there’s still something missing- something that a desperate puppy and bunny really needs; and that is someone to keep them in line. That’s where Chan comes in, tsking at the scene in front of him as he steps closer, having evidently caught your scent and came straight to where you are now, sitting on Changbin’s dick in the middle of the forest without a single ounce of shame between the two of you. 

“What’s this? Having fun without me?” he asks with a frown that feigns disappointment, though the slight swish of his tail and subtle spark in his eyes relays that he doesn’t actually mind very much. If anything, it gives him a chance for even greater fun, opens up a world of opportunity to tease and demand whatever he wishes. And his sudden presence and voice doesn’t cause you to slow down in the slightest- rather, it excites you further, causing you to bounce with renewed eagerness as you turn your head in the direction you heard him, looking him squarely in the face even as you continue your motions atop Changbin.

“That’s not very nice, I thought you liked me,” Chan pouts as he squats down next to the two of you, though his obviously fake pout breaks into a smile when you whine and affirm you do like him and want to have fun with him too. “We tried, fuck- we tried to find you, I swear, but she- she just-” Changbin is doing his best to talk, though you’re making it extremely difficult for him to be coherent, not letting up your pace in the slightest; and truth be told he’s never been much of a multitasker. “She- she’s fucking- God, I can’t-”

There’s also a pang of jealousy in the pit of Changbin’s stomach over how obviously excited the addition of Chan made you, how his presence and voice caused you to bounce on his dick with renewed vigor; and really, he should probably be happy that you’re putting so much effort into riding his cock thanks to Chan, but he doesn’t. Instead, he squeezes your hands harder, almost instinctively, a gesture that he doesn’t even fully comprehend as possessive. “Oh, look at what you’ve done to poor Binnie. He’s a mess because of you, slutty girl,” Chan coos and your stomach twists as you divert your gaze back to Changbin. 

He’s sweating, panting hard, his stomach rapidly clenching and unclenching- and you feel it, the throb and twitch that alerts you to how close he is. And you’re close too, you have been for ages. Days worth of terrible, unfulfilling orgasms make the pleasure of this moment positively euphoric- but you were doing your best to hold out for Changbin, knowing that once you came you wouldn’t have the strength to ride him anymore, and you wanted to be good and do what he asked of you to the best of your ability. 

And Chan can clearly see the signs on both of you; he’s shared with Changbin enough times to recognize his tells, and in your case, well.. it doesn’t take a genius to realize you’re about 3 seconds from gushing and creaming all over Changbin’s cock and lap. But you started the fun without him! And he isn’t sure you deserve to cum so easily after leaving him out- so just as your volume picks up, your pace finally faltering as your taut line is about to snap, Chan grabs your hips and forces you down, bringing you to a complete stop. 

You whine loudly, wiggling your hips as you vainly try to lift yourself up again, but it’s impossible- Chan is much, much stronger than you after all. Changbin, who was close himself, curses and whines nearly as loudly as you, his brows knitting together as he tries to calm himself down. “Hyung, what the fuck-” he complains, though he doesn’t dare make a move to make Chan stop holding you down- he knows better than that. You look at Chan, bottom lip quivering and eyes glassy with fresh tears as babbles of “why” and “please” and “need to cum” leave you. 

“But weren’t you a bad bunny? Having fun with just Changbin, weren’t even thinking of me at all..” Chan says with another false pout. He is nowhere near as jealous and unconsciously possessive as Changbin, as he knows very well he can have whatever he wants, but this dynamic is where he has the most fun- exuding control is the greatest pleasure he knows. Changbin’s denied orgasm is just collateral. “And poor Binnie, you dragged him down with you because you just couldn’t wait,” he continues, grabbing your face with one hand and making you look back at the wolf beneath you, “I think you should tell him you’re sorry. Tell him you’re sorry for being a slut who can’t wait and getting him into trouble with you.” 

You whine again, watching as Changbin swallows and bites his lip, clearly eager to hear the apology you’re about to grant him at Chan’s command. “I.. ‘m sorry, Binnie, ‘m really sorry,” you mumble, and Chan tsks again, very clearly unsatisfied with the meek apology. “C’mon little red, you can do better than that, can’t you? Try again, we’re waiting.” You glance at Chan and then back at Changbin, swallowing as both of them stare at you and wait; the ball is in your court, and you have no choice but to deliver. 

“I’m sorry f-for being a slut, and ‘m sorry for being a bad bunny, sorry for getting Binnie in trouble, ‘m really sorry, I promise ‘m so sorry,” you try again, to which Chan smirks, taking his hand away from your face to give you a pat on the head. “That’s better,” he says as he finally removes his other hand from your hip. You take that as all the permission you need to start moving again, wasting no time in lifting your hips and slamming them back down onto Changbin’s lap. 

Changbin’s surprised gasp transitions into a groan, his hands once again squeezing yours while also trying to be careful not to pierce your skin with his claws. Eventually, begrudgingly, he lets go of your hands to dig his claws into the earth instead, finding that better than risking cutting into your precious skin. Chan watches patiently, waits until you’re both close again before he brings you to another stop with his strong hands, frustrated whines leaving you both as you plant your feet firmly on the ground and try to fight against Chan’s natural strength.

“I didn’t tell you that you could move,” he explains as he watches tears fall from the corners of your eyes, “couldn’t even wait for my permission, and look at you now, in trouble again, dragging Binnie down with you again.” You pout and cry, babbling apologies to both wolves, shame ever a foreign concept in the face of desperation- all you know is you want to cum, but if Chan needs you to be good, to ask first and follow his rules, then you will; you’ll always be as good for him as you possibly can be. 

When Chan removes his hands from your hips this time, you ask for permission as he wants you to. “Can I move, please? Please, I’ll be good from now on, I promise, just need to cum so bad,” you beg and he smiles as he coos, once again giving you a sweet stroke to your head. “Of course, good bunnies can have whatever they want. Make Binnie cum too, he’s so good to you, he deserves it, doesn’t he?” Chan chuckles as you nod quickly, eagerly resuming the motions on Changbin’s cock as if Chan had never stopped you at all. “Tell him,” he says, moving his hand down your head, over your back and to your tail, tugging it ever so slightly, “he’ll get so excited. Go on, talk to him.” 

“B-Binnie, you’re so- so good to me, make me feel so good, want you to cum, d-deseve to cum- cum in me,” you stutter out between harsh breaths and Chan has to suppress the laugh in his throat when Changbin’s tail fucking whacks against the ground in an impossibly loud, excited thump. So predictable, he always is- can’t hide a damn thing he thinks or feels. Changbin is the one grabbing your hips this time, helping you along as he starts to fuck up into your from below. You squeak and nearly fall forward onto his chest, but somehow manage to keep your balance and stay mostly upright, your hands gripping desperately at his biceps.

And in all the times they have shared someone, Chan is met with a sight he doesn’t think he’s ever seen. Changbin’s eyes are rolling back as bites his lip and chases his high from below, using all of his strength to move you however he wants. Clearly, being denied orgasms did something profound to him- he’s almost feral, relentless in the way he fucks into you. When he feels the build up again, he tries to hold back, almost afraid that Chan will rip it all away from him at the last moment again- but then you’re squeezing him hard, he can feel more slick gush and coat his length as you cry out, and he loses it entirely, cumming in long, drawn out spurts, giving you all he has to give.

You’re entirely collapsed on Changbin’s chest now, seemingly spent from all the effort you exuded and the intensity of your orgasm, eyes closed as you try to collect your breath. Changbin is equally breathless, brain lagging as he processes the fact that he’s cum the hardest he thinks he ever has, and on top of that it was in the middle of the fucking woods with Chan controlling when you were both allowed to cum. Maybe he’s due for some self discovery after this..?

Changbin, whose senses are finally returning to him and recalls he was unable to kiss you at all once you really got going and was sorely missing it, lifts your face and pulls you into a kiss. One kiss turns into two, then to three, then to four, until you’re essentially making out, with Changbin effectively stealing away all the breath you’d just regained. Chan watches for a time, lets Changbin indulge in what is one of his favorite intimate acts, but he can’t let you two be the only ones having fun for much longer. 

It’s Chan’s turn now, and he’s been patient enough. He’s good at putting up a front, makes his control seem effortless, what with his boundless charisma and intimidating presence, but fuck, the minute he caught the scent of your heat in the air, he about lost it. Just as Changbin surely felt, he needs to fuck you before he risks going insane. The younger wolf whines when you’re pulled off of him, a mess left behind on his lap where you once were. What a selfish pup he is- maybe one of these days Chan needs to remind him what it means to share. 

“Go home, Bin. And tell everyone still there to get the fuck out, so I can bring her back home with me.” Changbin blinks for a moment as he processes, and then he’s scrambling to his feet, getting his clothes back on in a rush. Changbin wanted to bring you home too, but he knew he couldn’t- if he just walked in with you in his arms, it would’ve been chaos; the younger wolves with much less practice in self restraint would’ve lost their fucking minds- even Chan and Changbin themselves had barely been keeping it together, still heavily effected by your heat despite how experienced they were. 

“Uh, when I do, can I.. y’know..?” Changbin asks before he starts to leave and Chan rolls his eyes before he lets out a small laugh. “Yes, Bin, you can join us again.” Changbin smiles, tail swishing cutely before he runs off and once again you have to suppress a giggle at the surprisingly adorable display. You wonder if he’d take offense to the fact that you view him as a puppy; he just screams “I need constant affection and attention or I’ll die” and it’s oddly endearing. 

Chan doesn’t let your thoughts linger exclusively on Changbin for long however; he’s grabbing your face again, diverting your attention back to him, making you look straight up at him. He captures your lips in a kiss, one that is far more impassioned than you would’ve expected based on his cool exterior. He holds you tightly, pressing your body firmly against his own, leaving no space between you. You in turn wrap your arms around his neck, sighing into the kiss as you are met with more of the sweet relief you’ve desperately needed.

His hands travel over your body, refamiliarizing himself with the feel of your soft skin beneath his fingers, refreshing the memory, letting it become engraved once more. When he pulls back, he is looking at you carefully, doing his best to continue to suppress his carnal need to have you long enough to ask you something that’s been mulling around in his mind, “Tell me honestly, little red. Did you want us to find you tonight, or was it an accident?” He needs to know if it was simply spur of the moment with Changbin, if anyone would’ve done if they’d approached you, or if it was them you specifically needed to get you through your heat. 

“You, I wanted you,” you answer easily, truthfully, a slight blush crawling over your face as you admit how you truly feel; your mind may be foggy from your heat, but you're not immune to the nerves that come with an honest confession, “I told Binnie too, that I.. I wanted you both.” Chan smiles at your answer, a smile that makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to how pretty he is when he smiles at you. “Good. Then my next question before I keep you for the rest of the night- do you want to be ours?” 

“B-Be yours..?” you ask, blinking up at him as your mind goes over what that could mean. “Mhm, mine and Changbin’s. Our sweet, little bunny that we’d take good care of. Our mate, essentially.. Do you want that?” Your breath hitches, the blush on your face growing as the words swirl around in your head. Their mate. Chan’s. Changbin’s. Both of them.. Their mate. “A-Are you serious? I mean.. I’m a rabbit, and you’re.. not.” From what you've heard, wolves take having a mate very seriously.. and he wants that special someone to be you? And to share that special someone with someone else? Is that really okay?

“I’m completely serious. And you don’t have to be if you don’t want to, but I hope you know it’s not something I offer easily,” he says, stroking your cheek, offering you the softest smile you’ve ever seen him hold. “And you feel it, don’t you? The inexplicit desire, how nothing since having each other has felt complete, satisfying.. enough?” You swallow as you nod, knowing that much is true- ever since you met them, every night without them felt.. wrong somehow. Like you weren’t where you were supposed to be. And God, how unbearable your heats had become, going far past the usual discomfort into completely uncharted, agonizing territory. 

“I do, I really do,” you answer, unable to lie about such a thing even if you wanted to. And there’s still so much about your life you’d have to figure out, but you know you’d regret it if you said you didn’t want to be theirs, you’d live in agony if you didn’t have them. He smiles again before he kisses you, hands traveling down to your legs, over your thighs and hips, until he’s cupping your ass, lifting you up and bringing you closer.

You leak onto his lap, but he doesn’t mind, can’t even process it, really- his mind is full of you. Of your scent, of your touch on his skin, of his on yours. And just how you’d done with Changbin, you insatiably run your hands over whatever patch of his skin within your reach. And if his senses weren’t in overdrive from your scent, he’d admonish you for being so insatiable, tease you for being a slut and make your face burn red from filthy, whispered words.

But he has to admit the desperate, needy side of you he’s witness to is a treat, and it works at the rope that is his composure in record time, steadily tearing at it until all that keeps it together is a thin thread. He’s no better than Changbin, is he? Really, if this is how you’ve been from the start, it’s clear the younger wolf never had a chance; but Chan is the superior here, and he has to set an example- what good will it do if he can’t stay in control long enough to get you back to his den? 

He has something to prove- to himself, to Changbin, and to you; that he doesn’t break and give in so quickly and easily. So he quickly rises to his feet with you in his arms, carefully leaning to where your clothes were discarded and picking them up, covering you in your cape like it’s a blanket. “Just in case there’s some stragglers still at home,” he explains; when you’re officially his mate, no one will touch you, but until then, he’ll take every precaution necessary to protect you from other wolves that may want you- barring Changbin, naturally. 

It takes you no more than a few minutes to get to their den thanks to his speed, and just as before you closed your eyes and clung to him tightly as he wove through the trees to get there. Thankfully, it seemed Changbin did a good job at relaying that the leader wants everyone gone until morning, as the only sight you are met with inside is him sweetly and excitedly waving as Chan approaches with you in his arms. 

Just like the first time, Changbin trails close behind on the way to Chan’s room, locking the door for security when you’re all inside. You’re set down on the bed, with Chan putting your discarded clothing on his nearby armchair before he’s sitting next to you. Changbin also wastes no time getting his clothes off again, to which Chan stares at him incredulously until Changbin replies with a simple “what?”, causing Chan to scoff in disbelief and you to giggle. 

Changbin sits on your other side, his hands in his lap as he waits for whatever it is Chan is going to do next; and he may be jealous, but he won’t interfere with whatever his elder wants to do with you, even if it means all he gets to do for the remainder of the night is watch. Chan reaches out, pushing your hair behind your shoulders and exposing your neck, to which Changbin instinctively swallows. He resisted last time, only scraping your skin with his teeth, but he wanted to bite you so bad that night. 

It was a bit strange, considering he’d never had such an urge with previous partners; he liked them, of course, they were pretty, sexy, fun.. But he almost felt the natural instinct for a wolf to bite was either a myth or something he wasn’t meant to experience until he had you. And maybe that’s why he felt so jealous when Chan captured your attention; Changbin has always been a jealous person, but it never felt this.. real, almost? Serious, and not entirely playful and fun-aligned as it usually was. 

Changbin watches as Chan trails his fingers over your neck, the both of you instinctively holding your breath. He watches as Chan replaces his fingers with his lips, watches as he trails kisses over your skin, watches as his hands travel to your thighs and squeezes them. His jealousy mixes with excitement, softened cock beginning to harden once more, his fingers twitching and aching to touch you some more, but not acting on the desire; it’s Chan’s turn, he has to remind himself repeatedly.

Chan chuckles a bit when he pulls away and sees Changbin very clearly internally struggling; he’s so simple when it comes to things like this, incredibly easy to read. Once more, Chan grabs your face, but he does something new this time- he makes you tilt to the side, exposing the entirety of the right side of your neck to Changbin. He licks his lips and swallows before tearing his gaze away from your neck to look at Chan, unsure of why exactly he’s exposing your neck to him like this.

“Bite her. I know you want to,” Chan says much too casually for Changbin’s poor brain, his eyes widening in surprise as he practically gawks at his elder. “W-What? But- I can’t, she’s-” he stutters out, and you’re surprised to hear him so flustered; you guess the rumors are true- wolves take mating and bites very seriously. It’s not something he’ll do on a whim, even if he desperately wants to. “She wants you to. Wants both of us to,” Chan continues with a smile as he watches the gears turn in Changbins mind, “isn’t that right? Tell him, sweetheart.” 

“’s true, I wanna be yours. Both of yours,” you tell him and Changbin groans, though you can’t tell if it’s from disbelief, pleasure, or a mix of both. He takes one of your hands in his, squeezing once more as he leans down to your neck, inhaling your scent as he presses open mouthed kisses to your skin. “You’re sure..? This isn’t something you can take back,” Changbin asks between his hot kisses, and you affirm eagerly, that yes, you absolutely want this. 

“Together then?” he asks as he pulls away, looking at Chan with utmost seriousness. Chan hums his agreement before he’s tilting your head backwards, your entire neck exposed to both of them. And though this is something you want, you can’t help but be nervous as they take their places on either side of your neck, their breath tickling your skin and causing you to squirm. “Relax, sweetheart,” Chan whispers soothingly, his hand coming down to find the one Changbin isn’t holding. 

You let out a breath, doing your best to will you heart and nerves to calm; this will change your life forever, but it’s a change you accept wholeheartedly, and once the initial pain subsides, you know they’ll take the utmost care of you, they’ll make it all worth it. You feel their teeth start to prick your skin, their positions on your neck a true mirror of one another- the same placement on either side, marks that will show to the entire world that you have not just one mate, but two.

Chan’s fangs pierce your skin first, causing you to gasp and squeeze at their hands, crying out when Changbin’s own fangs follow shortly behind. It stings, but that initial pain dulls rather quickly, and you’re soon left with only the pleasurable feeling of belonging, of.. love? Or maybe that's not entirely accurate given how this all came to be, but whatever it is transcends anything you've ever known or experienced in your life thus far. It’s unique, special, new- a fitting description for your newfound relationship, and all the emotions it conjures within you.

Changbin is the first to kiss you when they seperate from your neck- and it's to be expected, he just can't help himself. But possessive though he can be, intentional or otherwise, he pulls away rather quickly, giving Chan his opportunity to kiss you too- because it’s not just him you belong to, and he wants to make it clear that even when he’s clingy, or jealous, or pouty, he’ll never do a single thing to jeopardize what the three of you have together. He simply hugs you as Chan kisses you, his lips ghosting over the mark he left behind, soothing a sting that no longer exists.

You wondered, when you were back at home in your cottage in the clearing, if it was okay to miss them. Was it foolish, did it even make sense to want to see them again? But you feel you’ve found your answer- you were meant to miss them, were supposed to feel a tug in their direction, were supposed to find them irresistible in every aspect, to desire them with all that you are. They are meant for you, and you for them, and maybe everything up to this point happened the exact way it was supposed to; and now you were truly where you belong.

Though Changbin should keep his hands and lips to himself given that it’s Chan’s turn to have his fun with you, he really can’t help himself. You’re sure Chan notices, as he notices everything when it comes to the both of you, but he doesn’t scold, tease, or pull you away. As fun as it would be to make you both whine and pout, this is a moment that will never be replicated- to bite someone like this is an act that you hopefully only do once in your lifetime. For the first night of belonging to each other at least, he’ll loosen the reins of his control just a bit for Changbin’s sake.

Chan guides you, and in turn Changbin, to lay back. Changbin's back hits the wall, while yours rests against his chest, where he cups and grabs your breasts from behind, squeezing and playing with them to his heart’s content while Chan continues to kiss you. His tongue slides in your mouth when Changbin’s rolling and pinches of your nipples causes your mouth to open with a moan, Chan’s own hand traveling between your legs, his fingers becoming quickly coated in your slick. 

Your body jolts when he rubs your clit, instinctively squirming and avoiding his direct touch- because even though it’s the first time either of them are touching it tonight, you’ve been abusing it all week whilst chasing your (unsuccessful) orgasms. It’s tender, sensitive- and you say so, a tremble in your voice as you try to make Chan understand that the feeling is just too much right now. “It’s too much?” he questions, and you’d think his tone was one of genuine concern were it not for his smirk giving away that he doesn’t very much care if the feeling is overwhelming you, “but you’re making such pretty sounds for us. And I thought you needed to cum? Isn’t that what you told me?” 

“Y-Yes, but-” you start but Chan quickly shushes you, another roll of his fingers making your eyes roll back as you continue to squirm. Your hands instinctively go to his wrists, simply holding them as you know you’d never actually be able to push him away. “But what? I’m giving you what you want, silly girl,” he says with a smile that you’d view as sweet if you didn’t know any better, “you should be thanking me. Go on, tell me ‘thank you’, nice and sweet, ‘kay?”

Oh, he’s so mean- and Changbin is no better, because he feels it fair to remind you that apparent cuteness and loss of composure aside, he’s just as much a menace as his elder. “Yeah, yeah, do it, pretty. We wanna hear it,” he says, close enough to your ear that it makes you shiver and squirm some more, whining in equal parts embarrassment and pleasure. Because even if it is overwhelming, it does still feel good- so good, you can’t help but cry.

“Th-Thank you, thank you,” you say between moans and gasping breaths, your nails digging into Changbin’s thighs now that you’ve released Chan’s wrists from your grasp. “Hmm, are you sure that’s all you wanna say? I think Channie-hyung expects more from you,” Changbin says with a grin you can’t see but can certainly hear. He’s right, of course, but you have no idea how you’re supposed to string together a coherent sentence with the way they’re coordinating their touches to your body and talking to you. 

But you have no choice but to do your best, because the alternative is disappointing them, and you would never. “Thank you- thank you for making me feel s-so good, thank you Channie, Binnie, th-thank you.” Choppy and hardly coherent through your whimpery moans your words may be, they seem satisfactory enough; Chan hums approvingly, and you can feel Changbin’s cock twitch against your back.

“That’s my good girl,” he smiles, increasing the speed of his fingers before he corrects himself, “our good girl.” You squeeze your eyes shut, legs twitching, entire body trembling, though you no longer instinctively squirm away from his fingers- your body has finally accepted it, you suppose. Apart from the tremble and shake in your legs, your body is otherwise limp, accepting of every bit of stimulation they bring you.

You’re close, they both know, but given the circumstances, Chan decides to be kind this time- he can make you beg and cry some more later, for now he should give his good bunny what she needs. “Gonna cum, aren’t you, pretty bunny? Go ahead and let go, let us hear it,” Chan says, doing his best to apply more pressure with the pads of his fingers, though how sloppy you are from slick doesn’t make the task entirely effortless- not that he minds, of course; he likes the mess you’ve made between your legs. 

You cry as you nod, head falling back against Changbin’s shoulder when his tugs and pinches to your nipples become harsher. You try to warn them before it happens, but you can’t- it hits you so hard that you can’t even utter any further noise, your mouth hanging open in silent cries as your eyes roll back and body tenses and untenses rapidly, gushing and making a further mess of Chan’s fingers and the mattress beneath you. 

They both whisper praises in your ears, sweet encouragements and dirty words that further drag out the euphoria you feel. You’re not sure how much time has passed before you open your eyes again, feeling Changbin’s hands rubbing your hips and thighs while Chan strokes your cheeks, smiling sweetly at you, actually sweetly, as your senses return to you. “There’s our girl,” he says after giving you a quick peck on the lips, “did such a good job, sweetheart.” 

He strokes your head as Changbin presses sweet kisses to your neck and shoulders, moving his hands from your thighs to wrap his arms around you in a soft hug. “Channie, fuck me now?” you ask, because as breathless and nearing exhaustion as you are, you’re still eager to feel him inside you, and you won't be truly satisfied until you get another load of cum inside you- his specifically. His smile turns to a grin, his hands coming down to your hips, prepared to move you into whatever position he desires, “Course sweetheart, nights not over until I’m done with you.” 

He flips you around effortlessly, Changbin catching you before you fall completely against him. He holds you upright while Chan adjusts the position of your hips, aligning his cock with your hole once he has you how he wants you. Changbin kisses you as Chan slides his way inside your heat slowly, swallowing every little noise that escapes you. And really, you’re beyond wet and prepped enough for him to go fast if he wants to, but he doesn’t- and not entirely because he wants to tease you (though it does serve that purpose), but because he’s been so on edge this entire time that he’ll cum in record time if he doesn’t, and he’ll die before he lets Changbin last longer than him. 

Changbin, who is happy to have your attention again, has his tail thumping excitedly against the mattress. You’re holding onto his shoulders for support as your tongues play together, gasping into his mouth when Chan is finally fully sheathed inside you, his hands digging into your hips whilst still trying to be cautious of his claws and their ability to pierce your delicate skin (though you don’t think you’d particularly mind if they did.) Changbin brings a hand to one of your ears, stroking the soft fluff and causing you to whimper as you clench around Chan’s cock, earning you a grunt from behind, a clear sign that he felt it. 

It’s not meant to be a challenge against Chan’s ability to hold out, but he takes it as one- if anyone is going to break and cum fast, it won’t be him. His hand comes around to your front, grabbing your neck with just enough strength to pull you back towards him. You gasp and whimper, turning your head as much as you can to look at Chan while he holds your neck. “Make our Binnie cum again while I fuck you, and then I’ll let you cum again too. Understand, bunny?”

You nod quickly as Changbin whines and his cock twitches. Our Binnie- he likes the sound of it more than he’d expect. Chan whispers a simple ‘good girl’ in your ear before he lets you go, letting you fall back into Changbin. Your head lands on his chest, and he intends to lift you up to support you and shift himself into a position that’ll benefit the both of you, but it doesn’t seem you need it- your hands are instantly on his cock, your tiny hands wrapping around and stroking as much as they are able.

He groans and grabs your face, lifting it up enough so that he can lean down to kiss you. Your pace falters when Chan finally starts to roll and thrust his hips, but you do your best to keep steady, determined to perform well and be allowed to cum again. You’re gasping, whimpering, crying as Chan’s pace turns to one you can only describe as purely animalistic- and fair, you admit, given how much self restraint and composure he had to hold until now. The fact that he even went this long before losing it is herculean feat. 

Despite that, he is still firm on the idea that he absolutely will not cum before either of you do, so he reaches around and grabs one of your hands, taking it away from Changbin’s cock and bringing it up instead to one of his twitching ears. “Wanna see our Binnie really lose it? Rub his ear, he’ll go crazy.” “Hyung-” he opens his mouth to protest, face starting to flush and seemingly embarrassed that his weak spot is being called out. 

The complaint dies in his throat however when your fingers softly rub over his ear, a gaspy whine coming out instead as his hips jolt up into the other hand still on his cock. “Fuck, shit-” he weakly groans while Chan smirks in victory- though the smirk doesn’t last very long, as he truthfully isn’t fairing much better than Changbin in regards to how good you’re making him feel. Maybe in the end, his plan backfired- because each noise that Changbin emits causes you to clench harder, but he still has other ideas in mind to make the two of you cum first.

Chan’s fingers find your clit again, making your body jolt and your hands grip at Changbin harder- on both his poor, sensitive cock and equally sensitive ear. He curses again, eyes rolling back for the second time, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as his hips once again unconsciously thrusts upward. It reaches a point where he’s essentially doing all the work, your fist almost entirely still while Changbin fucks your hand. 

His hands dig into the sheets, almost tearing them as he clenches at the fabric between his fingers. “O-Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum- harder, touch me harder, please-” Butterflies explode in your stomach, having never expected to hear Changbin beg the way you are usually made to. You do as he asks, you’d never dream otherwise; your fingers grip him harder, squeezing his cock and rubbing harsh circles on the soft ear in your hand. 

The thump of his tail is erratic, his breaths harsh as his head falls back, cum shooting on your hand and his stomach. When he opens his eyes and lifts his head, he’s met with the sight of you licking his cum off your hand before your scooping up the mess he made on his stomach with your fingers, sticking them in your mouth and then opening your to show him it’s all gone when you’re done, twisting your neck after to show Chan too. 

“F-Fuck,” Chan stutters a groan, pulling out long enough to flip you back around, your back hitting the mattress as Changbin moves to the side to watch. “Such a good girl, cleaning him up without having to be asked, should- fuck, should reward you, shouldn’t I?” But he already promised you could cum if Changbin did, so what’s the next best reward he could give you? “What do you want? Tell me, bunny, and I’ll give it to you,” he decides to simply ask as he slides back into your wet warmth, resuming the harsh pace he’d set before you flipped back around. 

“K-Kiss? Can we kiss?” you ask and he chuckles, stroking your cheek as he brings his face close to yours, close enough that your noses are touching and you can feel his breath against you. “That’s it? That’s all you want?” he asks, unable to suppress the smile when you quickly nod, “Bin’s gonna get jealous, y’know. You’ll have to make it up to him after.” But before you can reply, he’s kissing you, tongue shoving it’s way in your mouth.

Chan’s pace is fast and not entirely accurate, but God, he’s trying- and you perfectly understand, because even with the cool exterior he exudes, you can tell he’s barely been holding it together. He’s utterly gorgeous like this too, sweat dripping and jaw clenched, brows scrunched and veins popping from exertion, pretty lips glossy from your kisses just prior. His fingers on your clit are replaced by Changbin’s, while Chan’s hands grab your legs and keeps them held open, his cock going as deep as it can go. 

“So perfect, perfect bunny for us,” Chan grunts as his head falls to your neck, lips ghosting over the mark he made with fangs. Changbin brings his other hand to one of your ears, rubbing the base in the same way you rubbed his, while his fingers on your clit rub in quickly practiced circles. “Yours, ‘m yours and Binnie’s, bunny just for you,” you affirm, body shuddering when Chan groans in response.

He’s close, so fucking close, but you have to cum first- so he closes his eyes and tries to focus on hitting the spot that makes you see stars, working to stave off his release as long as he can possibly can. And he’s successful, Thank God- between his perfect thrusts and Changbin’s fingers, you’re cumming again in no time at all, the wet spot beneath you growing as you drench Chan in your release. 

He grunts, thrusts reverting back to their sloppier rhythm as he chases his high, his grip on your thighs sure to leave bruises behind. A string of curses leave him as he finally cums, filling you to the point it leaks even as he’s still fully pressed inside. Your eyes are closed, heavy with exhaustion, but you hear them talk to each other as they wipe your sweat away and clean you up between your thighs.

One of them picks you up, Chan you think, while the one you assume to be Changbin changes the sheets for him, absolutely filthy after the night you just shared. Tired and not entirely conscious as you are, you still snuggle into the chest of the one holding you, and it’s confirmed it’s Chan when you hear him chuckle and whisper something about you being “sweet and cute.” You tiredly whine when you’re put back down, eyes still closed but missing the warmth you were enveloped in, and hear them once again chuckle before you feel them on both sides, pressed against them in the middle. 

With a struggle, you blink awake, body heavy and eyes still impossibly tired, the darkness surrounding you making it near impossible to tell what time it is. It's clear you're still in their den, and wolves dens are always dark given their nocturnal nature. You're laying on your back, you realize, Changbin’s arm slung over your stomach while Chan, who is also apparently awake, is stroking your head as he looks at you. “You didn’t sleep?” you ask quietly and he shakes his head, whispering his reply back to you. “It’s still the middle of the night, sweetheart. We never sleep at night- but well, after what you did to Changbin, he was out as soon as he got comfortable next to you. Couldn’t stay awake even if he wanted to.” 

You quietly giggle, turning your head to catch a peek at him. He looks cute, peaceful- you give him a soft peck on his cheek before you turn your attention back to the awake Chan. “He’d lose it if he was awake during that, y’know. He loves cute shit like that,” he says and you smile- you can tell, it’s obvious; Changbin is a bit of an open book, you think. “What about you?” you ask and he scoffs a little, turning his gaze away as a slight smile peeks out on his lips. “Course. I just don’t make it as obvious as that idiot. Seriously, we have a reputation to maintain.” 

You peck his cheek, and he scoffs again, trying to hide the growing smile and retain the cool image. “Don’t start- you’re gonna make me as bad as him.” “Is it going to be morning soon..?” you ask as you lower your head back to the pillows. “It will be in a couple hours,” he replies, turning back to you with a more serious expression, “you need to go back home, yeah? Can’t stay here?”

You frown as you nod, a strange feeling of loneliness filling your gut at the idea of leaving them behind to go back to your cottage. “Grandmother needs me..” you tell him and he hums in understanding, careful not to expose the ache in his chest that you’ll be parting soon- whether that’s courtesy of the mating bite or if it’s feelings he’d have regardless he can’t entirely tell. “We’ll figure something out. Just get some more rest for now, okay? I’ll be right here.” You nod and close your eyes, relaxing further when you feel him start to stroke your head again. When you shift slightly for comfort, Changbin instinctively holds you tighter; even in his sleep he has to make sure you’re close.

There’s a lot you’ll have to confront come morning, but you decide to follow Chan’s words and leave it until then. You lay one of your hands atop the one Changbin has pressed on your stomach, and use your other to touch Chan, humming happily when he brings his own over to hold it. For now, you’ll fall back to sleep, you’ll indulge in the safe comfort you feel while sandwiched between their bodies, holding their hands, secure in the knowledge that even though your life will be drastically different from now, it’s what will make you happiest. A bunny and her two bad wolves, who aren’t actually as bad as they seem- this is where you belong.

#i tried to give them equal attention but my bin bias may have come thru dgsdfg i'm sorry !!! #skz x reader #bang chan x reader #changbin x reader #skz smut #bang chan smut #changbin smut #werewolf au #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

[drewstarkeyslut]

DESTROY MYSELF JUST FOR YOU🥀ᡣ𐭩

Summary: He still wanted you, needed you, craved you. He missed you. You were going to be his again, no matter what. Seeing you at the bonfire party with JJ was all it took for Rafe to snap and make his move.

Notes: Tried to do a dark Rafe but it ended up being more toxic than dark but oh well! Not sure how I feel about this but didn’t want to make it TOO long so sorry if it seems crammed and rushed and all over the place.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, dark!rafe (but not really), toxic!rafe, possessive!rafe, non/dubcon, kidnapping, choking, slapping, spitting, hair pulling, forced intercourse, forced fingering, forced face fuck, forced creampie, degrading, praise kink, sir/daddy kink, breeding kink. TW❗️DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH ANY OF THE WARNINGS ABOVE! this is just fanfiction✨

Rafe had always been infatuated with you ever since he first laid eyes on you. It was when you moved next door to Tanny Hill a few years ago. He just had to have you, make you his girl, his whore, he practically wanted to own you and shut you out from everyone.

He succeeded, for two years you were his, until you got away.

Your relationship started off like any other, it was practically perfect. You thought you had found the one. Rafe was a gentlemen. He took care of you, spent money on you, showed you all kinds of affection and the sex was the best you ever had. He knew your dirty little secrets, knew what you wanted in bed and he did that for you, every fucking time.

He was like a drug and you couldn’t stop getting high That was until he finally showed his true colors. He started becoming overly jealous, possessive, manipulative, controlling and erratic.

It eventually started becoming too much for you, and the first time he laid his hands on you, you knew you had to get out. You were tired of feeling as if you couldn’t breathe, it felt like walking on eggshells being around him and you had enough.

It had been six months since you fell out of Rafe’s tight grasp. It wasn't easy but you found a way.

It was the night of the bonfire party. You had arrived with none other than his sister, Sarah Cameron. You two still stayed friends, hanging out quite often. She begged you to come out tonight, but you knew she would leave you for John B.

You were in a white mini skirt and a black crop top showing just the right amount of cleavage. It definitely caught Rafe’s attention, your tits jiggling with each step had his cock straining in his shorts as he watched from a distance.

“Hey pretty girl” JJ rushes behind you giving you a hug.

“Hey Jayj!” You turn around giving him a peck on the cheek. To anyone it would look as if you two were an item, but that was not the case. You were still single. Rafe made sure of it.

Rafe’s blood immediately boiled seeing you with that pogue. His girl and JJ? No, no fucking way. He just had to wait for the right moment to swoop in.

Rafe grew impatient as the time went on. It felt like hours had gone by and you were still glued to JJ’s hip. Rafe wanted nothing but to drag you away from him and take you in the woods right then and there.

“Hey J, you want another drink? Going to grab another one and try to find Sarah.” You blurt out.

“I’m good princess, thanks though. I’ll be here waitin’ for you.” JJ winks at you.

Rafe watched as you walked off in a secluded area as he stalked your way. He thought to himself if you were smart, not so naive and drunk, you’d have walked through the crowd to avoid bad situations like the one you were about to be in. He just got lucky that you weren't thinking straight right now.

You hear footsteps approaching you as you try to turn around, feeling absolutely paranoid but Rafe catches up to you, approaching you from behind as you stumble on your feet.

“Missed me?” Rafe laughs. You freeze, knowing that voice all too well.

“What the fu—“ you try to yell out but your mouth is covered.

“Shh, shh, you're alright sweetheart, everything is going to be just fine.” Rafe hums.

"Rafe? What are you..." You muffle out before he cuts you off.

You’re going crazy trying to pull him off of you and run away, but no luck.

“Don’t even think about it. As if you’d be able to run away from me.”Rafe hisses in your ear. His other hand grabs your arms pulling them back and gripping your wrists.

“I will make it worse for you if you scream or try to run off, got it? I’m fucking serious y/n, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” Rafe spits with venom dripping in his tone.

All you could do was nod your head in response, your sobs muffled under Rafe’s hand.

He leads you to his truck, opening the door and throwing you in as he makes his way to the driver seat. He immediately locks the doors, pressing child lock knowing you would try to escape.

“Rafe this isn’t funny…why, why are y-you doing this to me? Is this some kind of sick joke?” You cry, staring at him while you cowered in your seat. You were honestly terrified, fully aware of what he was capable of.

Rafe doesn’t even glance your way once, keeping his eyes on the road as he drives off heading for Tanny Hill. The ride there was quiet other than the sounds of you choking on your sobs.

He pulls into Tanny Hill as you look over to your house, senarios filling your head with how you could make a run for it. You were cut from your thoughts when Rafe opens the passenger door. You jump out and run, only to get your hair yanked and your mouth covered to drown your screams.

“You really shouldn’t have done that y/n. You just don’t listen, do you?” Rafe snapped. He drags you into Tanny Hill, slams and locks the door, as he throws you on the ground, towering above you.

“Please…Rafe, you’re a-actually s-scaring me.” You tremble as tears spill from your eyes.

“You’re so pretty when you cry baby.” Rafe leans down and wipes the tears from your eyes.

“You don’t have to d-do this…please let me go home.” You sob, hoping he had the slightest amount of decency to let you go.

“I’m going to make you mine. I will do whatever I please and you’ll be a good girl and take it, yeah? By the time I’m done with you, I’ll own you again princess. You will always be mine. Remember that, so keep crying and see if I care.“ Rafe spoke with a threatening tone, his foot planted on your throat, you could almost feel your airways tightening.

“You can’t just kidnap me and expect me to fall at your feet! I-I don’t understand Rafe..we broke up. I broke up with you. It’s been six months..w-why all of a sudden are you doing this to me?” You yelp out.

Rafe pulls your hair, angling your head just enough so you are looking straight into his eyes. His beautiful eyes, normally a shade of blue were now completely blank and dark.

“Just…shut the fuck up, yeah? You’re really starting to get on my nerves. No more fucking questions. I’ll put your mouth to use in a bit, but for now? Keep that pretty little mouth shut. ” Rafe orders.

He takes a seat on the stairs, his index and middle finger motioning for you to come. “Now crawl to me.” He demands.

You shake your head in shock. This is what he wanted, he knew exactly what gets you off. Just a little over six months ago you’d gladly crawl to him and submit but right now? You really didn’t want to feed his ego.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear him.

“I said crawl. Get on all fours and come here slut. You’ll learn to obey and be my good girl, my little whore all over again.” Rafe booms.

This time you crawl to him. He yanks you by the hair and pulls you up, and for a split second you swear your feet were dangling.

Rafe leads you up the stairs to his room and throws you on the bed. Next thing you know he was laying on top of you with his face hovering above yours. You could feel his breath on you.

You hate to admit it but your pussy throbbed for him no matter how wrong the situation was. Rafe knew how to get to you, easily, and you hated him for it.

“I’ve been wanting to get you back in my bed y/n, you underneath me just like this, you don’t even understand.” Rafe whispers, his tone chilling.

He rips your top off, eyes locked on your tits as he discards your bra throwing it on the ground. You’re trying to fight him off, kicking and screaming but it was no use.

“Fuck, god damn baby girl. I missed you, missed your fuckin’ tits.” Rafe groans as he brings his hands up to give them a firm squeeze. He snakes down towards your skirt, fingers grazing over your thighs.

“No! Please let me go! I just know JJ is waiting for me and wondering where I am!” You yell, nails clawing at him. You were still trying to get Rafe off of you but he had your hands above your head, his grip on your wrists too strong.

“Don’t bring up that dirty little pogue ever again. You won’t be seeing him anymore, got it? I’ll take care of him if I have to.” Rafe seethes.

“Fuck you Rafe. You are fucking insane!” You scream.

“You can fight me all you want princess. You know you love it. I just know your cunt is needy and wet f’me.” Rafe licks his lips eager to stick his dick in you but he wanted to take his time, enjoy every second of it.

Rafe goes to lift your skirt up revealing your red lace panties, a wet patch on them. Your pussy betrayed you. You knew this would happen and you knew you were beyond fucked.

“Would you look at that? You’re getting off to this shit hmmm? Told you, I know you baby girl. You’re just the same needy little slut you were f’me months ago huh?” Rafe laughs as he rips your panties off of you.

“R-rafe, please no! Wait, p-please, no!” You yell in a panic. You were confused. Your mind didn’t want this, atleast not like this..not right now. Meanwhile, your pussy is begging him to ravage you, stretch you open and ruin your insides.

Rafe automatically twitches in his shorts. He unbuckles his belt, pulling it off effortlessly with one hand, wrapping it tightly around your wrists and tying it to the headboard. It was definitely going to leave marks and bruises.

“Let’s get things straight. You will do as I say when I say it y/n, understood?”

“So open wide, let daddy take care of you yeah?” Rafe coos, bringing a finger up to your lips.

“Yes sir. I understand.” You’re not sure why you obeyed without being told twice. You open up and just as you do, Rafe spits into your mouth.

“Swallow, like the good little whore that I know you to be.” Rafe demands. You obey once again, a tingling sensation coming from your cunt.

He shoves two fingers in your mouth. You try not to gag as he slips a third finger in, sliding in and out of your mouth. You were completely vulnerable, just how Rafe wanted you.

He stops to pull his shorts and boxers off. His hard cock springing out and slapping his stomach. Rafe is aching and throbbing, his precum leaking from his red tip, needing release.

“Oh shit, yes, fuck yes. Take this fucking cock baby.” Rafe moans as he shoves his length down your throat.

He’s fucking into your mouth as if it was your pussy, using you, thrusting in and out. He’s pinching your nose, restricting your airways, but that doesn’t stop him.

Rafe’s balls are slapping your chin as he fucked into you, his only focus was making himself feel good.

“Look at you doing so well princess. That’s it, you got it. You’re such a good girl.” Rafe praises, his hand brushing the side of your cheek, giving it a slap.

He pulls out, your mouth is full of drool that is dripping down the sides of your lips.

He makes his way down to your pussy, it’s glistening on full display for him. He brings his hand up to your cunt as he gives it a couple harsh slaps.

“Ahhh! Fuck Rafe!! It h-hurts! Please.,no more!” You scream in pain.

“I love to hear you scream, just turns me on more.” Rafe grunts. His words making your pussy involuntarily fucking tremble.

Rafe grabs your chin, giving your cheek a firm slap once again, making you flinch.

He grabs your legs and pulls them up, shoving them back as far as they’d go, giving him the best view of your dripping cunt. He gives you no warning as he slams his cock into your pussy.

“Fuck you Rafe!” You spit. You fucking hated how your body reacted to him, submitting to him. You squirm beneath him.

“Y/n, stop fucking moving. Just relax sweetheart. Shit, look at how wet you are, my cock is soaked.” Rafe smirks, groans escaping his mouth.

You’re sobbing and moaning all at once, unsure of how you feel right now with your ex’s cock shoved deep in your pussy. You hated him, or were you just trying to convince yourself you did? You didn’t even know at this point.

“Beg for me baby girl. Beg me to fuck you harder, come on. You know you want to, want you to look at me.” Rafe taunts, holding your chin forcing you to look at him.

“Please R-Rafe….fuck me…fuck me harder, faster!” You beg, words barely audible.

You honestly missed him no matter how toxic he was. It was obvious, you’d destroy yourself just for him, no matter the cost. You hated yourself for it.

“Going to be a good girl for me? Hmm, daddy’s little whore?” Rafe questions.

“Yes sir, your good little whore. Please Rafe, need your cock. Feels sooo good, want to cum.” You breathe out.

“Oh you thought this was ‘bout you and making you cum? Nah, that’s not gonna happen baby girl. Only I get to cum.” Rafe teases.

Rafe unties you from the headboard and flips you over so you’re on your stomach.

“Ass up, all the way.” Rafe orders, slapping your ass so hard, sure to leave a handprint.

Rafe gets up and with one hand pushes your back down so your stomach and side of your face is shoved into the bed. This way he can thrust deeper into your pussy. He rams his length into your soaked cunt, slamming in and out of you like his life depended on it.

He brings the hand that was on your back up to your hair yanking it making you look at him as your neck contorted at a weird angle, his other hand gripping your throat. The only thing heard in the room are his loud moans, your excessive sobs and his body ramming into yours, balls slapping your pussy.

“You love that huh you little slut? If I find out you’re fucking around with that damn pogue..well let’s just say..you don’t want to know what will happen alright? I will be the only one you fuck, you got that y/n? I own this pussy, I own you, sweetheart.” Rafe warns, with a spine-chilling grin.

“Yes…sir, I understand. You own me, all of me. No one else, you are the only one who gets to fuck me.” You whimper, wanting to cum so badly but knowing you couldn’t was killing you.

“Fuck that’s right baby girl, you’re going to make me cum. This cunt is going to be filled to the brim.” Rafe grunts, picking up the pace, his thrusts getting more sloppy.

“Rafe, no, I-I’m not on birth control a-anymore…” You stutter.

“That supposed to stop me princess? I’m cumming in this pussy. Going to fill you up, you’ll be having my babies y/n.” Rafe grunts.

Rafe positions himself so that one leg is over your body, his foot pressed on your head, not too hard but just enough to keep you down. His body slightly turned to the side while the other leg is kneeling inbetween your legs. He continues to slam his cock into you, his thrusts getting sloppy.

You’re moaning and screaming, begging Rafe to not cum in your pussy. “Please pull out daddy, want your cum on my face!” You whine, trembling on your knees.

“Oh I’m fucking cumming baby girl. Ah fuck! This pussy is squeezing me so tight, draining my fuckin’ dick. Feels s’god damn good, shit!”Rafe moans out loud, followed by more curses falling from his lips.

“Ahhh Rafe! Fuck! Yes, yes, yes your cum feels so good filling me up.” You scream. Rafe’s cock pulsates in your cunt, his warm seed filling you up. You haven’t felt this sensation in months, the thought of getting pregnant completely left your mind.

Rafe pulls out, pushing your head down so your pussy is in view. You’re absolutely shaking, the amazing feeling of his cum dripping from your cunt taking over.

“Yeah watch as my cum drips from your swollen pussy.” Rafe grunts, a sinister smile leaving his lips knowing he has you twisted around his damn finger.

“I love it daddy, so hot watching your cum leak out of me.” You whimper, rolling your eyes, saying exactly what Rafe wanted to hear.

Once Rafe pulls his shorts back on, he reaches in the drawer on his nightstand as he pulls out a small red box. He opens it, revealing a gold initial necklace, letter R with diamonds on it. Little did you know, Rafe hid a tracker in one of the diamonds.

“You know I love you right? I needed to do this, for us.” Rafe yanks your head back as he gives you a kiss on the lips, putting the necklace on you.

You know he’s lying, he doesn’t love you. You can’t help it though, even though he constantly hurts you, you will never stop truly loving him. He may not have loved you at all, but you were irrevocably in love with him.

“I know.. I love you too Rafe.” You sniffle, looking away from him. Too busy drowning in your thoughts, knowing you’d never escape Rafe Cameron.

“Told you, you’re mine, always will be. You’ll be the death of me y/n y/ln.” Rafe was determined to engrave that into your brain.

tagging a few mooties: @rafesthroatbaby @drudyslut @lyndys @babygorewhore @rafesmuse @oceandriveab @rafescokewhore

#rafe cameron #toxic!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfiction #rafe fanfic #rafe obx #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron concepts #rafe cameron thoughts #divider creds: hitobaby #divided creds: saradika-graphics

[stvharrngton]

-> 18+, minors dni! all of these blurbs are pure nsfw.

-> below the cut is the masterlist for my kinktober 2023! all of these will be steve x fem!reader and i will do my best to complete them all on time! i hope u all enjoy <3

day one: cream pie

day two: hands/fingers

day three: hair pulling

day four: spanking

day five: spit

day six: deep throating

day seven: toys

day eight: size difference

day nine: hate/angry sex

day ten: hickies

day eleven: being recorded

day twelve: dry humping

day thirteen: edging

day fourteen: swallowing

day fifteen: mutual masturbation

day sixteen: nipple play

day seventeen: choking

day eighteen: cock worship

day nineteen: overstimulation

day twenty: sub/dom dynamic

day twenty one: sixty nine

day twenty two: thigh riding

day twenty three: window/balcony sex

day twenty four: pegging

day twenty five: breeding

day twenty six: titty fucking

day twenty seven: cockwarming

day twenty eight: almost getting caught

day twenty nine: praise kink

day thirty: begging

day thirty one: squirting

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington blurb #k.fic #kinktober2023 #k.kinktober #the graphic screams graphic design is my passion LMAO #i am going to regret this :)

[sutorus]

SYNOPSIS: WELCOME TO SUTORUS’S KINKTOBER 2023! or as i’m calling it, KINKTROPER. this event will consist of five chapters, each of them featuring one of the JJK men + my favorite trope for them, as well as one special epilogue chapter ;)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: i do not have set dates for each work but i hope you’ll stick around + turn on notifs and stay tuned. as always, if you’re a minor/blank/ageless blog DNI or you will be blocked. mind the general warnings as well as the individual tags for each work!

GENERAL WARNINGS: afab reader, pet names, power dynamics, shameless smut

CHAPTER ONE — BAD IDEA RIGHT?

FUSHIGURO TOJI as YOUR BEST FRIEND’S DAD

CHAPTER TWO — THE GRUDGE

GETO SUGURU as YOUR MEAN PROFESSOR

CHAPTER THREE — coming soon!

CHOSO as YOUR SHY AWKWARD ROOMMATE

CHAPTER FOUR — coming soon!

GOJO SATORU as YOUR LOCAL RICH FUCKBOY

CHAPTER FIVE — coming soon!

NANAMI KENTO as YOUR UPTIGHT BOSS

BONUS! EPILOGUE — coming soon!

GETO SUGURU & GOJO SATORU as ?????

#✩.kinktober #yayyy excited for kinktober #the theme is lame #the graphics too #but!!!!!!!!!!!! smd #the smut will be #edible #ig #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #jujutsu kaisen kinktober #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji smut #gojo smut #geto smut #nanami smut #choso smut

[karatekels]

Scream For Me – Chapter 2:

I think I'm a bad person for writing this. I do have a little epilogue in my head that involves the aftercare that we don't get to in this scene (which is very important, but it's late and I know at least SOME of you have been waiting long enough), so I might write that once DDO is over. Any-hoo, enjoy!

Also, I'd recommend having Terry Silver's theme on loop, especially while reading his POV!

Part 1 Here

TW: OH BOY... Violence, knives, threats, stalking, psychological torture, begging, bondage, gagging, spanking, graphic sex, all wrapped up in a bow that isn't really consensual non-consent (at least not in a healthy way), but hey, I'm not an expert.

---

Terry’s POV:

He watches you pick up the note through his binoculars, lurking in the shadows of the garden and giggling like a madman. He was beginning to wonder if you would ever come out of the damn bath – he had snuck into the bathroom to steal your phone almost two hours ago. With your head tipped back against the lip of the tub and your eyes closed, you had looked so serene…

He hopes you had enjoyed that feeling while you could.

The emotions on your face change from a soft sweetness to confusion and then horror, and would have made a triptych worthy of any art museum if he had had the forethought to photograph you in this moment. But no matter; this was all for him anyway, and he didn’t plan on forgetting tonight any time soon.

The cards had been a particular stroke of genius, in his opinion. Taking a symbol of the sweet, considerate Terry that you know and love and perversely twisting it into a threat was the perfect way of letting you know just what you were in for.

You throw on your silk robe – a deep purple, and a compliment to his red one – over your pyjamas and leave the bedroom, and he laughs to himself again. The game had begun.

He trails after you from outside the house, watching you through the expansive windows as you move down the hall from one room to the other in search of the staff, seeing your lips move as you called for someone’s – anyone’s – attention.

But no one was coming for you tonight – no one but him.

You start to look around you nervously, quickening your pace as you start to panic, and Terry cannot wait to get inside, to taste your fear in the air. So he does just that, slipping in silently through the one window he had left open on the property; the rest of the place, doors and windows, had been locked shut, their passcodes changed and only known to himself and Victor.

You really shouldn’t have put him in this position; he hasn’t had this much fun in far too long.

Closing the window behind him, sealing the two of you inside, he stalks down the hallway towards the staircase, hearing you descending from the third floor.

You move hesitantly to the kitchen, and he follows close behind, slipping from shadow to shadow with the ease of long practice. This isn’t something that one forgot how to do, no matter how much therapy one underwent.

You spot his second card on the kitchen counter, and look over your shoulder, clearly paranoid. He wonders if you’ll be too afraid to actually pick it up, but after a long moment you force yourself to walk over to it, reaching out with trembling fingers. He holds his breath, eagerly wanting to watch your reaction as you take in the words on his card:

You can’t hide.

He times it perfectly – right as you let out a gasp, he cuts the power to the house through the app on his phone, plunging the mansion into darkness, and you let out a startlingly arousing shriek of surprise and fear. Terry had never been one to shy away from being dramatic, but he is particularly proud of his theatrics in this instance.

“Terry?” you call out, your voice quivering and higher than usual. Terry doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even blink, drinking in your silhouette in the moonlight.

“Victor, if this is your idea of a joke, I swear ­–”

He interrupts you with a whistle that pierces the silence, the same tune that he always whistled, and you let out a whimper, reflexively stumbling back a few steps away from the noise.

“Terry,” you snarl his name, glaring at him in the darkness, though he sees through the show of bravado; you are too terrified to move, even knowing that it’s him.

Good.

When he still doesn’t respond, your anger disappears as quickly as it came on, and he watches you bite that spot on your lower lip with anxiety.

“T-Terry, if you l-lied about being away just to go to all this t-trouble to make yourself seem s-scary, I’m going to be so mad…” you argue with the darkness, now looking in the complete wrong direction of where he lurked, shrouded by shadows. You were going to be mad at him? How precious.

You get restless standing in the silence, and dash out of the kitchen, heading back around to the stairs at the front of the house. He follows, ghosting along behind you, keeping his distance. He wanted to watch you come apart for awhile longer before he really got things going.

You walk to the foyer and grab a pair of shoes from the front door, slipping them on while looking around you the whole time.

“I’m not scared of you, Terry Silver. I’m pissed, and I’m leaving!” you announce, moving to pull the front door open and scowling at it when it doesn’t budge. You double check the lock, grabbing the handle with both hands now and tugging with all your might. He can hear your breath coming harder and faster now, as you move to the keypad next to the door, punching in the code. It flashes red, seeming to mock you, and you whirl around in panic that you weakly attempt to disguise as fury.

“Seriously!?” you growl, stomping up the stairs and heading to his office on the second floor; it still had a landline.

He grins, the moonlight making his bared teeth glow, and sneaks up the stairs after you to find a good hiding spot with a view of the office door. He waits for a minute, smirking in the shadows, then hears you let out a scream of frustration as you realize it has been disconnected. As soon as you quiet down he starts whistling again, sending you barreling out of the room, your eyes darting from side to side as you try to pinpoint him from the sound.

“Okay, that’s enough. You’ve had your fun, now knock it off!”

Even at the beginning, your anger hadn’t exactly had him shaking in his boots, but it was downright pitiful now. Did you really think that you were going to be the one deciding when this was over?

In a way, he supposes you will; once he’s got you broken down, crying, pleading for mercy and forgiveness, he’ll come back to himself, come back to you. Lick your wounds clean if you’d let him; and you would.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to kick things up a notch.

He dashes down the hall to another alcove, making sure to pound his feet against the floor, his loud steps thundering and echoing through the halls. You back away with a strangled scream, your eyes wide with fright as you track his shadowy figure before you turn and run full tilt into the East wing of the house. Terry moves after you, quickly and silently trailing after the sound of your footsteps as you move into the room housing his weapons collection.

He takes the long way around, going through the library, hearing the scraping of metal on metal as he approaches you from behind. Slipping into the room silently, you stand facing away from him, brandishing the sword at the doorway you had entered from.

“Terry, if that’s you, you’d better come out right fucking now, or I’m going to start swinging this thing.”

‘This thing’was a centuries-old katana that you had snatched off of it’s gilded kake, each piece worth more than you could possibly imagine. You had no idea how to use it, and were in far more danger of hurting yourself than you seemed to realize. And that wouldn’t do; he was the one who would be controlling your pain – He knew how to wield pain, how to use it to stretch pleasure in ways you never even dreamed were possible. And he would show you tonight.

Unsheathing the dagger at his hip, he silently raises the blade up in the air, turning it so that it reflects the moonlight onto the wall in front of you to catch your eye. You yelp, spinning around and holding the blade out in front of you – he can see the thin metal wavering in the air – and he knows he has to get that away from you quickly before you sliced yourself accidentally.

“Careful, sweetheart. You could hurt yourself,” he warns you, his voice soft and sweet and standing in harsh contrast to the circumstances.

You look at him with wide, unblinking eyes, your face lit up by the moonlight and your body vibrating with tension. You have not lowered the katana.

“Terry, what the hell are you doing?!” you hiss at him, still trying to put on a brave (or at least angry) face.

“Showing you what I’ve been keeping from you all this time, my dear,” he purrs with a feral grin, taking a step towards you. “It’s about time you saw me for who I am, what I am.”

“W-Why?”

“Because you didn’t believe I was capable of it.”

He lunges forward with the dagger, knocking the katana safely out of your hands with one swing, and you scream, stumbling away from him.

“Terry, you could have hit me!” you exclaim while he calmly sheathes the dagger. He cocks his head at you, almost offended. You were still doubting his abilities, even now?

He takes a threatening step towards you, and you scamper backwards. He follows your movements with his own, slowly guiding you into a corner; when your back finally hits the wall, you let out a whimper, your eyes filled with pure terror.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N,” he coos, closing the distance between you. “I would never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?” he asks, his voice oh-so-innocent as he cages you in with his body.

“I-I… Yes,” you breathe, even as you press yourself further against the wall, away from him. He grins wolfishly, erasing the space between you by pushing his body flush against yours and feeling you shudder at the contact. Slowly and so gently, he reaches up with one large hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, and you let out a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering closed.

That same hand wraps around your throat, pinning you in place, and he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“But you know that I could now, don’t you?” he whispers, feeling your choked gasp through his fingertips around your neck.

“Terry, you’re scaring me,” you confess in a tiny voice, your eyes shut tight.

“Good.” He licks the shell of your ear and you shudder against him again, letting out a primal cry of fear. Suddenly, his weight is off of you and he’s pulled you by the arm, flinging you in the direction of the doorway.

“But I’m not done proving it to you yet.”

---

Reader’s POV:

This was a nightmare.

You can’t remember ever being this scared; you’ve never come close.

Your Terry, your loving, doting Terry… had this really been inside of him all along?

Looking at him now, his hair back in a messy ponytail, dark clothing that helped him blend into the night, his eyes shining brighter than the moonlight streaming through the window, he’s like a demonic creature, looming over you and waiting to strike. Your heart is pounding so loudly you can’t even think straight.

“Terry, you don’t need to prove it to me anymore, okay? I was wrong,” you say, trying to reason with him.

“Words are actions, and actions have consequences.”

“Terry, can we please stop this? I don’t want this,” you try for begging instead.

“Oh but sweetheart, you do.” The confidence with which he says it nearly has you questioning yourself.

“What? No, I –”

“Why haven’t you used our safeword?” he asks you bluntly, giving you an indulgent, mocking smile.

“I…” you start, but trail off when you couldn’t think of an excuse. Why hadn’t you?

You had known that this was Terry almost immediately; the notes had been in his handwriting, only he could empty the place of the staff, the haunting whistling was the tune he whistled.

Was it because you knew it was him and that, terrified as you were, you did believe that Terry wouldn’t actually hurt you? Even so, he was still frightening you more than you would have thought possible…

Or was it the knowledge that if you weren't you, if you didn't mean what you did to him, he could do absolutely anything to you and you would be powerless to even try stop him, and that a part of you wanted this dark, twisted side of him to have his way with you, to own you just as the rest of him did?

Arousal burns through your adrenaline at the thought. Oh.

“There she is, there’s my girl,” he purrs, sounding proud as you realize what he clearly had ages ago. Strangely, the knowledge that your life isn’t in danger doesn’t have you feeling relieved; you’re still on edge, you’re still paranoid, you’re still scared.

“I’ll give you a ten second head start this time, babygirl,” he informs you, staring at you like you’re prey, “and trust me when I say you’re going to be hurting tomorrow if I catch you.”

Your mouth goes dry, and you don’t waste any time, turning and sprinting away from him. Where could you even go? He would hear you, he would find you, he was so much faster…

But you were smaller.

You fly down the stairs to the main floor, frantically looking around you. Where could you hide that Terry wouldn’t look, or think to look? You had to hurry; your time was almost up. You hear him start to whistle the same chilling tune, a tune you’ll never be able to hear again without thinking about tonight, and start to panic as you slide into the living room.

There.

The fireplace. You think back to the other day, of Terry telling you that he had once climbed into a fireplace to hide, when he had broken into that old man’s house for information for his crazy revenge plan. It would be uncomfortable and unpleasant; and he would never suspect it.

Plus, there was a sweet sort of poetic justice to evading him using the methods he had told you about during the conversation that had started this whole debacle. You were determined to wait him out, all night if you had to. Trying not to make a sound, you drop to your knees, crawling into the pitch-black and feeling your way around. You're grateful you still have your shoes on, at least, though you’re pretty sure your favourite robe is ruined from the ashes as you manage to tuck yourself into a corner.

You hear him descend the staircase at a leisurely pace that makes a shiver run down your spine. Something about him acting as though he had all the time in the world was incredibly unsettling. You strain your ears, trying to listen for any sound of him approaching, and then you see his legs walking past you, through the living room and towards the kitchen.

You hold your breath, and don’t blink, not relaxing until long after he’s disappeared from view.

You slowly let out your breath, your head falling onto your knees. Hopefully you had some time before he came around again…

---

You have no idea what time it is, or how long you have being sitting curled up in the coals, but your whole body is cramped and aching. Maybe you could slip out just for a minute or two, just to stretch...

You would just stick your head out, just to listen for the sound of his footsteps, or that damned whistling again. Like a turtle coming out of its shell, you slowly stick your head out of the fire place, your head turned to look at the door. It seems like the coast is clear…

You go to turn back, to slowly step out of the fireplace and not get caught on the grate, but he’s there, squatting on the balls of his feet, looking down at you with a devious smirk on his face.

“Gotcha.”

You’re too startled to even scream, your mouth opening and closing wordlessly as you try to scramble back into your protective cavern like an animal. But Terry is on you immediately, one hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and the other snatching up your wrist, roughly yanking you out from under the mantle and throwing you onto the couch in a heap.

Before you can recover, there is an ominous ripping noise, and he slaps a strip of duct tape over your mouth none too gently. You can’t help but try to scream through it despite knowing it’s useless.

“Can’t have you waking the neighbours now, can we?” he jeers, laughing at you as you thrash against him as he tries to bind your hands behind your back, wrestling you into place. As he pins you down, you feel his hard cock against you, and fight back a shudder. This was really getting him off.

“You thought that you could just curl up and hide from me? Poor little thing; you never stood a chance,” he mocks as he pulls you up onto your knees, your arms now useless. Grabbing your chin from behind, Terry forces you to look at to the fireplace. There’s a half-empty glass of whiskey on the mantle. Neat, just the way he liked it.

You make a muffled, incredulous noise through the duct tape and he laughs, dark and husky, in your ear.

“You held out in your little bunker longer than I thought you would, sweet thing, but I was right out here waiting for you the whole time.”

Hot, embarrassed tears slide down your face, adding to the horror boiling up in the pit of your stomach. You’d thought you had been so cautious, so clever, and he had been watching and waiting the whole time as you sat huddled up with the ashes, terrified.

Terry grabs your upper arm, dragging you back to the fireplace and pointing down to the floor. Forcing your gaze downwards, you see charcoal residue all over the floor.

"If you were anyone else, I'd have you cleaning the dirt you just got all over my floor with your tongue. Instead, your cheek can wipe it up while I make you mine.”

A feeling of angry revulsion washes over you, and you manage to wrench your arm out of his grip and charge towards the couch, leaping over the back of it despite your body’s protests at the sudden movement. You take a couple of steps backwards, keeping the couch between you and Terry, not that you think it’ll do you any good.

He laughs delightedly, clapping his hands in front of him.

“This is why I was so captivated by you the first time we met, Y/N. You’re so fiery – no pun intended – even when you’re so obviously outmatched. You never know when to give up.”

You’re thrown off balance by the strangely-timed compliment, and it gives Terry the opportunity to hurdle the couch with ease. You turn to run but are far too late, and he kicks out at the back of your knees, grabbing hold of you before you can hit the ground and sending you sliding across the floor.

The way he does it is so measured and precise, and while you can appreciate that he doesn’t want you to be really, seriously hurt, it isn’t lost on you that he knows exactly how to do this for a reason. The same knowledge and skill he’s using to bat you around like a cat with a ball of yarn could be used to break you, and that little bit of insight is what has you giving up, curling up on the floor with your hands bound behind your back.

Terry’s booted foot wedges itself underneath your hip, lifting you up and rolling you onto your knees. He tangles a hand in your hair, keeping you facing forward while he comes to kneel behind you, and you’re not proud of the thrill of anticipation that runs through you.

His other hand comes around, slowly and gently untying your robe and pulling it open. He gropes you roughly over your pyjamas, and you let out muffled moans before he abruptly pulls his hand away.

“I thought I had taught you to not bother with pyjamas, Y/N,” he tsks as if disappointed. “Now I’ve got to ruin them.”

He brings his hand up in front of you again, this time clutching the dagger he’d had earlier. You arch away from it reflexively, and Terry’s grip tightens in your hair as he presses the cold face of the knife to your collarbone.

“Stay still, little doll. We don’t want any accidents,” he hisses in your ear, and you tilt your head back, baring your neck and trying to stay still. He slips the blade slowly between your breasts, and your breath hitches as he slices through fabric of your pyjama top with ease.

“That’s it,” Terry coos approvingly. “Head down.”

You immediately tuck your chin, and feel him brush your hair over your shoulders. He teases the knife at the nape of your neck, and you clench your thighs and your teeth, fighting to keep still as you feel him slice the back of your robe, the tip of the blade ghosting along your spine. He sets the knife against the floor, grabbing the two halves of the robe and pulling them away from your body.

You lunge forward in one last attempt at freedom, but he grabs your ankle, pulling you backwards and yanks your pyjama bottoms down to your ankles, impeding your motion.

“It’s almost like you want me to hurt you, Y/N,” he snarls, spanking you hard and making you leap forward again with a muffled groan.

“You do, don’t you?” taunts you, spanking you again. “Such a filthy fucking slut, even after all this.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head. Without the duct tape, you think you’d be drooling all over the place. Terry’s dirty talk always drove you wild, but degrading you like this while you laid on the kitchen floor, bound and gagged and covered in soot, nearly has you passing out.

“Show me how much you want it, baby,” he demands, and you don’t hesitate, immediately spreading your knees and dropping your head and shoulders to the floor, arching your back as much as you can to show him your slick entrance. Your nipples and one of your cheeks press against the cold floor and you whimper, looking back at him with pleading eyes.

Terry is staring down at you with dark eyes, his lips slightly parted and an almost feral expression on his face, curls of hair falling out of his ponytail and framing his face.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he breathes. “I want to ruin you.”

You groan, so turned on you can feel your pussy leaking down your thighs, writhing against the floor and waggling your ass at him, desperately looking for some stimulation. His hands move to his belt and he quickly pulls his cock out, rock hard and leaking at the tip.

He moves behind you, one hand wrapping around your bound wrists, the other guiding his cock to your entrance and thrusting into you in one smooth motion, immediately setting a brutal pace that has you screaming as much as you can through the duct tape.

“I should always be buried inside you,” he growls, snapping his hips against yours at just that perfect angle to have you nearly going cross-eyed, your knees likely already bruised from the position. He uses his grip on your wrists to pull you back onto his cock as he fucks you, using your body deliciously. You can already feel yourself getting close.

“I can feel your cunt throbbing around my cock,” he groans, slowing down his hips to pound into you with hard, deep thrusts. “You’re coming so quick just from being used. Such a dirty little girl,” he hisses approvingly, and you see stars as you clench around him, coming hard with a shriek.

Terry doesn’t give you a moment’s rest; in fact, he increases his pace again, moving his hand from your wrists up to your hair, pulling your head back with a fistful and making your spine bow even more. You swear you can feel him in your heart, he’s fucking you so hard, and you let him know how good he makes you feel, screaming until you’re dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

“You know I love you gagged, but I want to enjoy every scream from that pretty throat.”

He unceremoniously rips the duct tape from your mouth, likely taking a layer or two of skin with it, and you scream in pain even as you suck in deep breaths of air.

“Terry, pleeease!” you groan out, your voice hoarse and raspy. He releases your hair, letting you slump to the floor, so he can grip your waist, his large hands nearly wrapping completely around it. Your head hits the ground hard enough to sting, but it only adds to your perverse pleasure as you sob at the overstimulation.

“My little fucktoy wants to come again, huh?” Terry snarls, using his bruising grip to pump you on his cock. You wail, unable to articulate a response; you can’t think straight, you barely have the wherewithal to remember to breathe.

“I’m gonna make that pretty pussy come on my cock again, and it’s gonna milk every drop out of my cock, isn’t that right?” You nod frantically, but that’s not enough for him.

“Dirty girls with greedy little cunts beg nicely to get pumped full.”

 Fuck, he was filthy.

And you know it means he’s close.

“Please Sir, I need your come!” you beg desperately, barely hanging on. “I’m a good girl, fill me up!”

He comes with a roar and you follow after, the feeling of him coming deep inside you sending you right over the edge. You clamp down around his cock, making him hiss with pleasure that teeters right on the cusp of pain.

“Oh fuck yes, Y/N!” he pants, still thrusting erratically into you, “My good girl.”

“Thank you, Sir!” you moan, the words coming out as natural as breathing.

“Now every time I fuck you, you’ll remember exactly what I’m capable of, isn’t that right love?” Terry coos down at you once he catches his breath, kissing your sweaty shoulder as he cuts through the duct tape on your wrists.

You’re too spent to nod, let alone speak, and settle for a wordless moan of agreement, letting yourself slump to the ground, whimpering as more of your bare skin hits the cold floor.

You don’t remember how you get to bed, but it comes back in bits and pieces eventually.

*whistles innocently and walks away*

#thomas ian griffith #terry silver #terry silver x reader #cobra kai #dark desires october #fresh start #graphic smut #smut #extremely dark #cnc? #hard to tell with these two #i love them so much

[fyeahnix]

Dogsong | Sevika/Reader Explicit 10.6k F/F CW: breathplay, mild daddy kink, lesbian smut, no y/n use AO3 (read here for correct texting format)

High-energy evenings in Zaun melted down and metamorphosed into bustling and boisterous nights. Laborers swarmed from their day jobs tired and grumbling, eager to shake off the stench of a hard day's work with an even harder pint of hooch. The last rays of sunshine retired beneath the horizon; neon streaked the Lanes, picking up the slack where natural light abandoned its role. Buskers and ruffians bathed in magenta and mint hustled blue collar workers and businessmen alike. Black market vendors screamed over drummers to fence their hottest products before closing. Jericho's food stall was packed to the brim with Zaunites of every race imaginable starving for their last meal of the day. But The Last Drop? Closed for the night.

The bar-turned-nightclub was the landmark halfway point in your designated path home from work. The chartreuse lights blinked on one by one as the giant drew close to opening every night. Once the last light flickered on, the club was open to scrounge every last cog out of its dedicated patrons. Tonight, the cyclops slept. No lights and no patrons lined up around the corner waiting for the doors to open. The owner was preoccupied with more pressing matters this Friday evening.

How did you know that? The same reason your evening walk home was as peaceful as they came, even around the shadiest crevices of the Lanes. You'd witnessed muggings and assaults before, dodged solicitors and chem-stunted drug dealers seeking to become your next plug. Zaun's infamous crime lord, Silco, ruled with a more notorious underboss as his right hand—your girlfriend, Sevika. And your relationship with her had its perks. She made doubly sure that your usual trek home was safeguarded by her underlings hidden in plain sight. A watchful weapons salesman here, a nodding thug there. "Zaun royalty" was as close a descriptor as anything else.

When you entered your condo on Zaun’s Promenade level, you knew Sevika had only left recently. Wisps of cedarwood cologne clung to the foyer and living room and trailed back into the bedroom. Last year's name day gift to her—a custom, earthy note mastercrafted from Renata Glasc herself. You were thankful for the connection since you'd had next to no experience with fragrances on your own. Still, as infrequently as she sprayed the unique, luxurious scent, it left you yearning for her all the same.

An important business dinner whisked her away tonight. Normally, you were invited to events as her plus one, and her boss, Silco, would regard you with a gentle cant of his head. Tonight? The final stages of new business dealings—no outsiders allowed. Fair enough.

You still pouted at her yesterday when she had relayed the news. Sevika wasn’t immune to your perfected puppy-dog eyes, a skill you picked up from the very hounds you bred and trained in your profession. She placated you with a kiss on the forehead and the promise of dinner at one of Zaun’s finest establishments tomorrow night. At least you had that to look forward to after a long week and barely any time alone with her.

Sevika had left her discarded clothing and towels scattered from the bedroom to the bathroom, and you rolled your eyes at once again having to remind her to pick her shit up. A quick scolding text would suffice, but you decided against it. She probably left in a hurry again, and she wouldn't answer anyway. Rarely had the opportunity when discussing business.

Under steaming water, you showered, scrubbed away any lingering dog fur and hidden slobber. The relief was instant and welcome, but as water pounded your face and neck, you found yourself missing a pair of hands on you. You didn’t shower together often; between your schedules and Sevika’s disdain for hot showers, there wasn’t much opportunity. Friday was your dedicated time together in preparation to spend most of the night at The Last Drop. And Janna, did she know how to use her hands during that time.

Where would she have ventured tonight? What winding road would she have traveled? Which muscles would she have massaged first? Back, traps, deltoid? How far down would she have dragged her lips? You shivered at ghostly memories caressing your neck, your shoulders and hips. Arched into the imaginary fingertips under your breasts and across your ribs. Held still at the phantom hand nestled between your thighs—

But it was far, far too early to get carried away. She'd be back before the twenty-second bell, right?

Out of the shower, you stole a shirt from Sevika's armoire and paired it with your own underwear. Your shared bed was a mess of cream sheets and burgundy blankets that neither of you had time to straighten. You didn't mind the mess as much when you flopped onto the bed and snuggled into Sevika’s pillow. Her lingering scent, smoke and spice, rose proper butterflies in your belly. And with those butterflies, memories of your first encounter fluttered back.

You had met over two years ago. Ungrateful new owners and teething puppies made your week worse than hell, and that pushed you to craving a drink or five at the first watering hole you laid your eyes on. The Last Drop loomed in the distance with a "Grand Reopening" sign, so you shrugged and took your place in line.

New ownership—a middle-aged man with a timid adoptive daughter he doted on—had seized control after the previous owner's mysterious disappearance and death. The heady club atmosphere didn't match his gaunt, professional demeanor. The homely vibe was rendered extinct, usurped with neon and black lights. Exotic dancers shared a newly-built stage with underground indie rock bands, entertaining patrons drifting under the influence of a new street drug called "shimmer."

You'd taken solace at the end of the bar—ordered and enjoyed your first shot of vodka, no chaser, to wash down the anger and frustration. The squirrelly bartender eyed you closely when you quickly waved for a second shot. You were a lightweight and it took no time for the alcohol to kick in. You rimmed the second glass as a reminder to pace yourself.

The crowd and bass had been deafening. Pool balls cracked behind you in a rowdy game of nine-ball. Players swore and roared insults across the table over a heated poker game in the distance. Your guard lowered, easily lost in the music and bluster.

A piscine Vestayan male had approached you and leaned against the bar in your personal bubble. Glanced you up and down, licking his chops and flicking his barbels. Asked how your day was. You initially clocked him as bad news and hindsight confirmed that.

Short answers didn't cut it for him. Neither had telling him to go fuck his mother sideways with a rusty axe. His webbed, moist fingers landed on your shoulder, and when you jerked away and attempted to stand, they wrapped your upper arm. The strength in his grip was herculean, and you immediately regretted even venturing out for the night.

You had broken his hold enough to attempt an escape but bumped into someone solid behind you. A tall and dark-skinned woman with a strong nose and full lips had inserted herself between you. She took a final swig of her drink, then set it on the bar like it was a piece of fine antique glassware. Glanced the guy up and down before tilting up her chin.

The music had drowned most voices out, but you heard her rumble clear as day. "Is there a problem here?"

The guy's barbels flickered again. He released your arm, shook his head, and slinked off like the plague rat he really was. No argument, no fight, no challenge.

Before you'd taken the second shot, she stopped you and asked to buy you a drink instead. You scowled until she mentioned the drink had been spiked when your attention was diverted. One furtive glance, and the bartender immediately discarded it without a word. The entire ordeal made you want to leave and sulk in your bedroom for the rest of the night.

Sevika, as she had introduced herself, was persistent in a way unlike the asshole from before. She didn't press the drink more than once but sat with you for over three hours at the bar and chatted you up until you released the tension in your shoulders and jaw. Growing up in Zaun accustomed you to a certain flavor of brusque speech but never with the level of humor Sevika peppered in.

As the night carried on without issue and you planned to leave, she had offered to walk you home. You hesitated until you realized how much bigger and taller she was than other patrons in the club. There was no telling who you'd run into on the way back home, so you did what you thought was best and accepted the offer.

Vague conversation had colored the walk home. Your apartment at the time was over a mile away from the club, so you were thankful for the company in the dead of night. Sevika strolled a safe distance from you, never invaded your personal space, nor did she seek anything in return. She was, however, persistent.

"Drink offer's still open if you're interested."

You'd told her you'd consider it.

The smirk she'd given you was telling, like she already knew the answer you'd give. She fished an unfinished joint from a tin in her pocket.

Inhaled.

Exhaled plumes through the nose.

"The bartender, Thieram? Ask for me if you're ever at the Drop again. I'm there most nights."

"Most nights? Why so often?"

She'd laughed, drawing your blush at what you assumed was a rather stupid question.

"Guess you'll have to find out."

She'd taken a final drag, flicked the roach into the pavement across the way, and wished you good night.

You'd taken up her offer the next night.

It wasn’t extravagant or any novel-esque version of a meet-cute. A bad week at work and a pushy asshole brought you together purely by chance. Sevika didn't tolerate harassment in her club, and she thought you looked pissed off enough to strangle a gigalodon. Had plenty of bark between your teeth, she said, but lacked the bite to back it up.

And she was absolutely smitten with it.

You hugged Sevika's pillow closer, memories drifting as a Piltie drama slurred in the background.

Bzzt, bzzt!

Your phone stirred you out of nodding off. You unlocked it and checked the notifications. Sevika?

Should have smoked before this shit…

Poor baby. Dinner must have been stale. You typed up a response.

that bad?

It's bad. Fucking piltie. Won't stop bragging about his summer home and horse stables in the countryside…

ugh, another, seriously?

Good for business. Unfortunately…

details?

Sevika's responses were quick. You imagined her resting her chin on her bronze fist, right hand typing away under the table as a haughty socialite bored the group. You couldn't picture Chross having any patience for such gloating bullshit. And Smeech? Likely snapping his jaws and stroking his short beard.

You mean besides his apparent connections to Demacia? Nah. Don't have em all yet, go fucking figure. I might fall asleep at this rate…

I'll keep you company bear~

What would I do without you?

oh I dunno, I could prob list about 17 things…

Shut up lol

Sevika's following texts staggered in. Bouts of instant messages would follow minutes-long periods of utter silence. The updates for the meeting proved to be entertaining at the very least. Silco sat unamused. Renata picked at her nails while Eramis picked at his food. The new dealer droned on about the partnerships he garnered topside and how much wealth and prosperity he could provide Zaun. The man had his head crammed up his own ass, Sevika said, but Silco at least straightened in his seat once talks of shimmer exchanges with Demacian black markets commenced.

Despite the spicy entertainment, boredom set in for you as well. There was nothing else on TV save for the usual Friday night drama or movie. Any friends you had were more than likely busy with their usual weekly activities, as you would have been. You stared at your phone, hoping and willing for a text from Sevika to come in after your last response. None did.

Still, you could garner her attention. She may be stoic and gruff oftentimes, but she'd raise an eyebrow at a few salacious words, two if you were lucky. Why not roll the dice?

Vikaaa… how much longer? really been missing your hands all day

It was a start, and you buried yourself deeper into your blankets eager for a response. Sevika didn't enjoy texting much. It was tedious for her, too slow and monotonous where a simple phone call would suffice. Not to mention, she could only text with one hand. While she'd past gotten accustomed to gauging the grip strength of her metal prosthetic, her fingers proved a different challenge altogether. "Claws" were more accurate as she'd unintentionally gouged at least three phone screens by now. If not for you, she wouldn't text at all. You were grateful she'd made an exception for your disdain of most phone calls.

Still, the wait was agonizing. Minutes sailed by and you drifted before the indicator danced on Sevika's side of the conversation.

Yeah? Funny. I was just thinking about wrapping my hand around that pretty little neck of yours. Squeeze just a bit so I can hear you struggle to breathe.

Sevika may not have enjoyed texting, but she certainly wasn't terrible at it. You grazed your neck right where she would normally place her hand. Yours wasn't big enough.

dont you wanna hear me choke on your fingers instead?

You wet your lips thinking about Sevika's fingers exploring your mouth. Brushing your lower lip, stroking your tongue. You crossed one leg over the over, smashing your thighs together as Sevika's response came in.

Careful, sweetheart. Keep talking like that and I'll have you choke on my dick.

Would that have been so bad? You didn't think so.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Tell me where you want my hands first.

You swallowed hard. Playing hardball already only to dangle it over your head like a carrot. If that didn't say much about Sevika, you didn't know what else did. But fine, you could deal for now.

everywhere fucking everywhere. want your hands down my back, squeezing my throat, my tits, my ass, janna, I really want you playing with my tits right now

Your thoughts soared as wildly as a cliff-shrike’s first flight. Sevika's caress was calculated. She knew where to glide her hands to make you sing, where to prod her claws to make you growl. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't emulate her precision and poise. And her size? Out of the question. Your feeble attempt now was another failure for the books. A pinch at your nipple and clit coaxed a moan from you, but you still heard Sevika's usual croon of "patience" in the back of your mind.

Hadn't you been patient enough? You'd been waiting all day, hell, all week, and dragging your thumb over your clit for an ounce of relief grinded your nerves to ash. You huffed. If you had to suffer, then so did Sevika; it was only fair. You gathered your bearings enough to type a follow-up.

and your fingers? fuck I'm getting so wet thinking about them. want em in and around my mouth, pinching my nipples, buried in my cunt…

You set the phone down and breathed deeply. You wanted to do more, tease more, show Sevika what she was missing being away right now. You bit your bottom lip as you contemplated. Sevika would never say no to any selfies of you, even if they were sent at the most inopportune moments. Hell, if anything, they'd rile her up even more. Couple that with the danger of opening them around prying eyes, and you had a recipe for disaster.

You tugged your underwear down your hips and rested them at mid-thigh, exposing yourself to cool air and crisp sheets. From memory, you mimicked where Sevika would glide her hands in habitual order: jaw, sternum, hips, ribs, breasts. Between your thighs, a gentle tease, before running one finger right up your slit.

A sigh crept from your lungs.

You grabbed your phone—Sevika still hadn’t texted you—and snapped a quick photo of yourself. Your lower half, hand buried beneath a mound of hair, right on display. With minimal internal debate, you shifted positions for a second and caught your full-length mirror in your periphery. Perfect. With some adjusting, you knelt, bent over face down, and snapped a photo of your cunt and ass up on full display. Not at all an unfamiliar position. Satisfied, you shuttled them off into the void with a message:

missing you

It took no time at all before you saw the texting indicator bounce once more. Sevika's response, however, was delayed. She texted, then stopped and repeated the pattern three more times. What stole her attention so suddenly? A new proposition? A conversational shift? Maybe a nosy chem-baron spying over her shoulder?

At long last, her response dropped in and the corner of your lip lifted.

fuck

…Or she was speechless. That worked too.

Pride puffed your chest. With any luck, you'd rile Sevika up so much that she'd have no choice but to fold you into the compromising positionings you photographed yourself in. It wasn't the first time you tested the waters with an exhibitionist stunt like that. Certainly wouldn't be the last.

You'd often hung out with Sevika at The Last Drop on Friday nights. Amateur poker players—who were much too busy coveting what wasn’t theirs to keep their cog purses from drying up—dared to ogle you as you sat perched on her lap. You stared and winked at the spineless ones all while murmuring sweet nothings in your girlfriend's ear. They'd tug at their collars, lick cracked lips, swish their ragged tails like they had any chance in hell. Tunnel vision prevented them from gawking at your little grinds on Sevika's thigh. That or she glared daggers at them when you did. She was never bothered, only playfully whispered for you to knock it off in a voice so husky that you didn't mind the threat to pay you back in her private office upstairs.

Your phone vibrated right before you aimed to toss it across the bed. While you expected another text, a quick glance at the screen flashed Sevika's name with a heart next to it.

A phone call? Now?

You answered. "Didn't think you could talk right now, bear."

"You're a fuckin' menace, you know that?" she drawled, halfway between a growl and purr.

If only she could see you humorously twirling a lock of hair at that.

"Know who almost saw that? Take a guess."

You scrunched your nose. "Chross?" Gross.

"Nope."

"Please not Silco…" You didn't think you could face that man again if he ever saw those images. It was a dangerous game you played, sure, but anyone but him.

Her silence spoke volumes and your stomach dropped at least fifty feet. Of all the people…

"...Sev, I'm serious."

Sevika snickered. "I'm fuckin' with you. Nah, not Silco. Glasc."

Renata? That was more than a relief. Still, she'd throw you a sly glance across a dinner table the next time you saw her, but she wouldn't judge you for it. You may have only been acquaintances, but she was more than open about the certain… souvenirs she claimed from her own sexual escapades.

"Came at the perfect time. Needed a break and a smoke." On cue, you heard the crackle of embers from Sevika's inhale. "But don't think I didn't have anything for you. Check your messages."

You pulled away from your phone to do just that. She had—two images—and excitement trilled up your spine as you gaped at them.

Sevika took them in a restroom that was nearly as nice as the basic ones you'd seen topside. Soft lighting highlighted her dusky, brown skin well, accentuating a strong jawline and the sharp bridge of a once-broken nose. Jet-black hair was fashioned into its usual top knot with a few loose strands framing her face. The lower half brushed her shoulders and warned of an upcoming haircut. The black button-up she wore was crisp and tailored, one sleeve missing to accommodate her bronze arm, the other rolled up to her elbow to flaunt corded muscle in her forearm. The first button on the shirt remained unbuttoned, and you licked your lips at the tease of skin leading down her chest. Your eyes followed and you took note of the simple elegance of the dark brown waistcoat protecting her broad, muscular chest. Her gaze fixated on the phone carefully cradled in her claws.

You swallowed hard at the next image as another long drag crackled in your ear.

The hand clutching the phone hadn't moved, but Sevika's attention did. Light wolf-grey eyes bore holes in the mirror. Where her free hand had been jammed in her pocket previously, now it was thrust into the front of her undone black chinos. Unbuckled, unbuttoned, unzipped. Free from the confines, she displayed the gunmetal grey boxer briefs proudly. And with that display came the delicious glimpse of brown skin and trail of dark hair that snuck into her underwear.

Sevika was unbelievably handsome—suited up, naked, or any state of undress in-between.

The cherry on top? She was packing. The slight bulge in her underwear commanded your attention, made you salivate. Janna only knew you wanted to grind your ass against that. Or maybe worship with your lips.

"Don't get quiet now. You had so much to say earlier. What was it? You wanted my fingers in and around your mouth?"

A "yes" slipped between your lips like a snake's slither and so did your hand slither between your thighs again. Your eyes fluttered closed.

"Wanted them sheathed in that fucking pussy?"

You choked out a moan. A barely noticeable hitch in Sevika's breath coaxed a tug at the corner of your lip.

"Answer me," Sevika said, voice hardening.

You scrambled to find your own voice as you rolled your hips and lifted one leg. "Mhmm…" you started, attempting a pathetic nod Sevika would never see. "Want 'em deep. So fuckin’ deep."

Sevika sighed deeply. "Baby?"

The way her voice lilted forced your eyes open.

"I want you to stop touching 'til I get home. Can you do that for me?"

Like the hounds you trained daily, your ears perked. You'd grown accustomed to the intention and inflection in her voice and even caught the hint of a smirk at the end. Despite the honey dripping off her words, it was a command, no mistaking it. And though it coaxed a strained whine from your throat, no command she made ever came without buildup towards a worthy payoff. Sevika rewarded patience, after all.

Your words caught in your throat, but you pushed through. “Yes…”

“Yes, what?”

A quick smile broke through. So that's how she wanted to proceed? Considering the long week, you'd definitely play along. Your chest heaved and breath hitched before you spoke the words that served as a verbal handshake to start your "game."

“Yes, Daddy…”

The quick laugh that followed was broken—deep, breathy, a growl of triumph. Shifting fabric crinkled in your ear with a sharp inhale following suit. “That’s my good girl.”

And while you longed for a follow-up to her praise, you received nothing but silence in return. Sevika’s breath still lingered with the occasional drag of her joint. But there was nothing else you could perceive.

…Until you listened closely. Sevika was experienced, a master of controlling her own body. You’d seen as much when she threw rear hooks at the punching bag in your spare room or armlocked sparring partners at the gym. Years of boxing and mixed martial arts trained her to a level of discipline you only coveted. Breath control came to her easily. Well, normally, it did. “In through the nose, out through the mouth” was what she taught you, but her breaths now contradicted her advice. Shaky, uneven, so subtle that she may have been trying to hide it.

And then it clicked.

You tightened your grip on your phone, then released it to trap it between your ear and the bed. You lay there, paralyzed under the fear that if you breathed the wrong way or uttered a word that she’d stop. You shut your eyes and listened. It was a private show in your mind’s eye—Sevika with her hand jammed in her boxers, undulating her touch between her folds, abs flexing with every jerk. Lips parted, the small and cute gap between her front teeth peeking through. Attention focused on nowhere but her own actions.

And you couldn’t do a single thing.

You clamped your thighs together, moist from your slick. No touching… Now it was evident why she voiced the command.

Every Zaunite swear rolled past her lips as she lost herself in her ministrations, and you couldn't help but let a pathetic sigh escape yours.

Sevika shifted and the sudden sound of her belt clinking against the counter startled you. “What I wouldn’t give… to have you on your knees right now.”

Straight to the point. Straight to your cunt.

“Have you look up at me with those pretty eyes. And that pretty fucking mouth.”

There were more than a few occasions that you both had slipped away for a few precious  moments during a business dinner. Lips met tongue met neck. Knees deadened in genuflection on carpet or hard marble, primed for worship. Sevika's breath hot in your ear that she’d forgotten what you tasted like and needed a reminder. If you had attended tonight, you'd bet your life savings you'd have had your face stuffed between her legs as you stared up at her with stars in your eyes.

“You better not be touching right now,” she warned playfully.

“‘M not…” you whispered back. It was hard. So fucking hard to keep your hands balled into the sheets instead buried in your cunt. Patience, a waiting game, and you relaxed as you grew tired and started to drift. “Not touchin’.”

Sevika let a strained groan rip from her chest. She was finished, and the jingle of her belt confirmed as much. As she came down from her high, she inhaled deeply. “What I wouldn’t give… to have you clean me up right now.” Her words echoed twice in your head as your world went black. You would clean her, tongue only, licking up every stray drip of slick that rolled down her muscular thighs. Silence festered between you for a spell, allowing you to delve deeper into the thought until she spoke once more. “Gotta head back. See you when I get home, cariño.”

You drifted into the abyss, your declaration of love dying on your tongue as the call ended.

------

The front door's lock clicked in the distance, and the instinctual bout of anxiety burned away as you realized what it was. Not an intruder, but your girlfriend returning from her business dinner at… first bell? Fuck, she was late. Memories of her earlier words quickly stamped out any surfacing annoyance.

Sevika shut the door and locked it, kicked off her boots, and threw her keys and something else onto the kitchen counter. Despite her size, she ambled silently through the condo, and it was only her usual sigh of relief that allowed you to track her movements to the bathroom. She used the sink, likely washing her hands and face before letting out another exhale that was muffled through a towel. The same routine you committed to memory through a sleepy haze for months prior. The same routine that ended when she finally poked her head into your bedroom.

Her eyes darted between you and the TV before she raised a brow.

"Thought you'd be asleep by now," she said.

"Is that why you told me 'no more touching'?"

Sevika approached and sat on the edge of the bed to hover over you, trapping you between her hands.

"Wasn't expecting it to be that long, baby. Dinner went over an’ our debrief at the Drop took longer than usual too." You scrunched your face in mock annoyance as she leaned in and settled at your collar. "But… I'm here now. So lemme make it up to you."

Sweet citrus undertones intermingled with herbal cigar and her own natural, smoky scent. Memories of your late-night parting kisses outside your old apartment wafted back like pleasant dreams. For a few precious seconds, you shut your eyes, craning your neck to submit to her. And just like old times, you trailed your fingers at her waist before raking your nails up her spine, drinking in the guttural groan at your collar.

Sevika kissed a pathway up your neck and along your jawline before she pulled away just enough to leave her own lips out of reach. Even through the soft, amber ambiance of the room's light, her eyes sparkled with genuine interest. The arcane scars on her left cheek glittered, silky under your fingertips.

"Hi, sweetheart," she said.

A sweet smile tugged at your lips. "Hi, bear."

Sevika closed the distance. Your foreheads knocked, breath mingled, and before her beautiful, dark lips could capture yours in a kiss, you halted her advance with a single finger.

"Uh uh. I know you saw that mess you left out when you came in…"

She sighed, shut her eyes at your light scolding.

"...so please. Pick your shit up and then maybe I'll keep playing with you."

When you let go and she opened her eyes again, her face twisted in half-amusement and half-apology, a cute and unguarded expression she reserved only for you. The twitch in her lips revealed her desire to retort, but ultimately she conceded.

"’M sorry. Woke up late, was in a rush."

"Baby, I told you I was working later today and wouldn't be able to wake you up. Some of the pups are having teething and potty issues this week."

"I know, I know," she murmured against your lips. "Slept through three of my alarms. I'll pick it up. All of it."

"You fucking better," you said, teasing her lips with yours before you steal a kiss. She wasn't caught off guard in the slightest. In fact, she was ready for it, leaned into it with all the bravado of someone who missed a long lost love. When you had your fill, you pulled away with her bottom lip in tow. "Now, stop stalling."

Sevika grumbled in protest. She pecked the corner of your mouth before retreating and snatching the first articles of her discarded outfit from the bedroom floor. The action was entirely juvenile, not at all indicative of the type of person Sevika presented publicly, but well within the line of her subtle humor you grew to love.

Regardless of said task, you couldn't help but break out a smile as you followed her out of the bedroom and into the hallway, a flighty bounce in every step. You tried to hide it as she glowered at you.

With her dirty boxer briefs in hand, she finally spoke. "The hell you smilin’ about?"

"Just find it funny," you said, circling her. "How much you harp on me about being patient. And yet… here you are, having to wait yourself."

Sevika clearly didn't find the predicament humorous. With an upturned brow, she flung her boxers at your face. You didn't have time to react and your head became a makeshift hamper. She choked out a laugh as you tore them off and threw them back at her.

You tailed her through the condo as she picked up her discarded nightwear and towels and tossed them in the hamper. The final destination was your bathroom and you leaned against your sink, biting your lip, suddenly drawn into Sevika’s chosen outfit for the occasion.

“What?” she said. “See somethin’ you like?”

Quite an understatement.

Photos didn’t do her justice. You couldn't help but rove your eyes over her. Her shirt and pants accentuated her toned musculature in a way that made you lick your lips. The getup fit her well, looked comfortable, and even masked her usual disdain for dressing up to “kiss businessman ass.”

You’d once made an offhand comment about how great she’d look in a vest. Her effort clearly didn’t disappoint. For someone who hated dressing up? Damn, did she exceed expectations.

Sevika rolled her eyes and motioned to undress herself. You caught her wrist in yours. Laced your fingers and squeezed as you lowered them both. She raised a brow, eyes searching yours. She was so eager to rid herself of her clothes, but you couldn’t bear letting her tear herself out of them so hastily.

Not so soon.

Not yet.

"Let me?"

She canted her chin. Studied you.

You released her hand and mapped out a path with deft fingers. Up her right thigh, ghosting over her zipper to her hip, relishing the flare of her nostrils. The bathroom light twinkled off the waistcoat's buttons as you ascended over them, each resounding with a simple tap when you flicked them. You traced the visible shirt buttons upwards, stopping at her sternum where it flared open. Beautiful brown skin starred with small freckles and moles gave way where you pressed. You glided over her neck, felt her throat bob when she swallowed. The scar on her left cheek shimmered under your touch, silky aqua and turquoise marbling that guided you back down her jaw and neck. Back to the second button on her shirt to finally undo it.

You looped the button through its hoop and more of Sevika's skin became available for you to dusk your lips over. Her audible exhale drove you further as you released the third. More skin, more area to cover with gentle and practiced kisses. If you could cover every inch of her chest, you would. Stain her, mark her, claim her with the most seductive shade of lipstick you owned. A rich burgundy that matched her favorite poncho would suffice, wouldn't it?

While you kept your mouth busy at her chest, you released every button on her shirt and waistcoat. As much as you desired to roll them off her shoulders, you kept them on, admiring how they framed her over her dark sports bra. You scored down her taut abs with your nails until you found and fiddled with her belt. A bit of handiwork made releasing it trivial, and it clinked beneath you both as you left it undone to fumble for the button at her pants. Unbuttoned and unzipped, her pants lay open and free for you to graze fingertips at the waistband of her boxer briefs. You glanced down. A subtle bulge hidden beneath dark grey.

A cold, metal hand teased your waist, found purchase at the small of your back, spurring you on. From her waistband, your touch rose up her lower abs, pressed against them to coax the slight give and jerk of her muscles. She was solid underneath you, honed and sculpted like an athlete carved out of Pentelic marble. You rebuffed any muttered insult of her being a brute. She wasn't, far from it. Mixed martial arts and boxing kept her in shape, but her intimidating size and strength only belied her gentleness with you behind closed doors. Besides, would a brute have enough patience and self-control to handle the pressure of being Silco's right hand? The weight of being heir to the metaphorical throne?

Sevika flicked her tongue over the corner of her top lip when you feathered the dark hair that vanished into her boxers. Your final descent brushed over that trail, crept over the bulge at the apex of her thighs. The metal hand at your back pulled you closer. Sevika lowered her head to rest at your shoulder and you caught the tail end of a guttural groan at your ministrations.

She inhaled. Deeply. Her lips latched to the juncture of your jaw and neck. Her rumble deepened, hips angled into your touch.

"Cariño…"

It was your turn to smile. You knew where to touch and prod, the correct tempo and intensity to render Sevika putty in your hands. She melted when you tugged at silky, black hair. Let her lips part and drag across your cheek until they met with yours. It was cute how hard she tried to reel it in and keep her control, how hard she tried to stifle the jerk of her hips. You congratulated yourself for the effort… until she spoke against your lips to render your work undone.

"Turn around for me?"

Tone relayed the intended message. It sent a shiver crackling up your spine that halted your movements. Surprise quickly morphed into latent arousal. Why keep her waiting when you could smell the direction this was turning?

Her grip loosened enough for you to adjust yourself. You turned, slowly, and faced the mirror to watch her rise to her full height behind you. Sevika held several inches over most human men in Zaun and a full head over you. The toughest men who frequented The Last Drop tucked their tails at her size and strength. With you? She was as harmless and cuddly as a teddy bear. And she proved as much when she wrapped her arms around you and squeezed for good measure.

She buried her nose into the crook of your neck and shoulder, planted open-mouthed kisses up the side of your neck and into your jawline. In pure Sevika fashion, she tipped your jaw to give herself more access to the column of your throat. You couldn't help the giggles that fell from your lips, and she followed suit with a few chuckles of her own.

Any words you would have spoken were lost in a whispered sigh as she nuzzled right against your ear and spoke. "Been missin’ you all night."

And your heart somersaulted out of its cage.

Your eyes caught Sevika's in the mirror—predatory, wolf-like—irises pushed to the edges by pupils blown wide. She stared back at you. Mischief brewed underneath as the corner of her mouth tweaked upwards. She pulled you in closer, ran her full lips up the nape of your neck.

"Tell me again where you want my hands, beautiful."

Fuck, her voice. Like a growl soaked in arousal. You shifted, aiming to turn around but she kept you in place. All you wanted was to steal her breath from her lungs, make her speak those words again into your mouth. Consume every consonant and vowel as sustenance.

Her hands roamed and if you didn't give her an answer, she'd probably decide for you. So, you dredged up your earlier conversation and relayed it back to her.

"My… my mouth."

"Yeah?"

You nodded pathetically. She obliged.

Her left arm stayed wrapped around your waist. She brought her right hand up to lift your chin. Examined you in the mirror, turned your head this way and that like she was contemplating what to do with you. Finally, she tutted and smiled.

"Such a pretty girl." She thumbed your bottom lip and you flicked your tongue out to graze it. She didn't mind in the slightest, even encouraged it by dipping in to brush the inside of your lip. When you wrapped your lips around her thumb, she allowed you for all of ten seconds before removing it and painting your chin with your saliva. "With a pretty fucking mouth, too. Don't you think?"

Another nod, and she nipped the shell of your ear.

"I wanna hear you say it, baby. Tell me." She squeezed you gently for emphasis.

You sighed, cheeks flaring with the words floating in your mind. "I… I have a pretty fucking mouth."

Sevika snickers and kisses you in three places. Lightning bolts on inflamed skin. "Good girl. Now, open." Her fingers slid across your lips, waiting for the access that you granted immediately.

Her index and middle split in your mouth, taking residence on either side of your tongue. You teased between both before running up the middle finger. You swirled it left, pulled it center, sucked it like your life depended on it. You repeated the same for her index. Her fingers were devoid of any distinct flavor, but if you thought hard enough, you feigned the savor of your dripping cunt from memory alone.

You sucked and sucked and sucked on her fingers, bobbing slowly as you maintained eye contact with the owner of the wolfish grin in the mirror. One draw of her fingers withdrew them far enough to let your saliva dribble down your lip and chin. You cleaned up as much as you could, but the rest streaked and smeared as Sevika removed herself completely to cup your chin, then your cheeks.

That same hand made the agonizing trip down your neck and chest to graze over your pert nipples peeking through the large shirt. The breath you inhaled made her stop, and her stopping made you whine in protest.

"Think I remember you wanted my hands on your tits. That true?"

While your head was swimming through the heady haze of arousal, you'd have been remiss to not notice both her hands at the hem of your shirt easing their way up. Each second she waited for a response made the trip more leisurely. Typical Sevika behavior. She was a master of drawing pleasure out until the last second—the true embodiment of the virtue of patience despite how many vices she indulged on the regular.

Once more, an eager nod didn't satisfy her.

"Use your words, baby."

"Y-Yes, I want your hands on my tits. Mmm… all over them…"

Sevika flashed you a quick smile before she peppered four kisses from your neck up to your cheek. The last she released slowly, letting her lips linger hot on your skin. Her nose feathered across your cheek, ghosted your earlobe. She kept silent, but her gaze followed her hands as they raised your shirt.

Slowly.

“Arms up,” she said.

You obeyed. Up, up, up the shirt rose. It stopped right over your face, and Sevika held you there with your arms raised for several seconds before you caught on to her game and hip checked her. She laughed at you when you cussed at her, but once the shirt was tossed aside, Sevika was free to fully engulf your breasts in each hand. Her hands were big; you placed your own over hers and relished at the difference in size. A groan roiled in the pit of your chest only to ease up and drift from your lips as a breathy sigh.

She massaged them, kneaded them, rolled them under strong hands. Her fingers, still damp and drying from your mouth, tweaked and tugged your nipples. The motion and temperature difference had you choking out a moan, and you felt it like a bolt of lightning from your cunt to the soles of your feet.

Her bulge pressed right against your ass. You pushed and grinded back into her to elicit a low groan. Not a full-size dildo or even a pack-and-play from what you could decipher, but the friction still felt fucking amazing.

"Feel good, babe?" She pulled your earlobe with her teeth, and with it, a strained moan from your throat. "You're lucky," she began. You protested when her claws left your breast and descended to squeeze your supple ass. "You're lucky it's late and I'm tired.” With her hand at the back of your neck, she bent you forward until your cheek lay flat against the cold marble counter. She flicked her tongue out against your tailbone, then the dimples in your back. Licked an unwavering trail up your spine until she reached your nape. The shiver she coaxed from you was delicious but didn’t hold a flame to the words she purred in your ear. “Or else I'd fuck you silly. Tear your little ass apart." She could be so much dirtier, so much kinkier. This? It was light work, and it still made you gush between your thighs.

No manner of struggling or rolling your hips made Sevika let up. But you still played along.

"Good thing… you don't need a strap for that."

"Oh yeah?" You felt Sevika's smirk grow from her place at your neck. "What else should I use?" She lifted you, gave you a quick swat on the ass—you flinched—before tugging at your breast again. She rolled the nipple between her thumb and forefinger then repeated the same motion with the opposite hand, making your toes curl.

You cursed yourself for being so fucking sensitive. Sevika had learned of it after your first night together and had been exploiting it ever since. With enough attention, it wasn’t impossible to make you come from nipple play alone. Janna knows she’d done it before and then laughed at you afterwards. Called you cute.

Whether she aimed to elicit another slew of moans from you, or make it difficult for you to answer properly, you didn't know, but she was successful regardless.

"Mm… your fuuu….f-fin….fuck…"

"My what? Speak up, baby girl."

"Fuck off, Sev. Your fingers. I want your fucking fingers inside me."

You let her tweak your nipple one final time before you grasped the back of her large hand, intertwining your fingers. She didn't resist, let you guide her hand slowly but surely down your ribs. Under your guidance, her touch remained gentle with a rebellious edge as she scored your heated skin with blunt nails. She pinched at your hip bone as you passed, then reached to trace the ring of your belly button before stopping briefly at the waistband of the underwear.

With one snap of the band with her thumb, you brought her hand lower and gasped when her fingers weaved through the hair on your mound. You squeezed it in your claw grip. Grinded against her again.

"I’ve barely touched you and you’re already writhing under me," Sevika whispered.

Well, she was right. You'd been so pent up and eager the whole night, a simple ghost of her fingers right where you needed her drove you wild. All the hours of waiting and you'd finally get closer to release. The grand question was… how quickly would she let you?

Sevika was notorious for her antics. Begging on your knees? She had you covered. Servicing her first and thanking her for it? A favorite of hers. Worshipping every inch of your body under honeyed words and praise? You never minded waiting there. Patience above all was rewarded, but she still made the experience enjoyable along the way. Which route she'd explore today was still undetermined, even with the familiar mischievous glint in her eyes.

No amount of grinding or snapping the waistband of her boxers made her budge. Instead, you earned a smirk and playful tug of your left nipple. You pouted.

She moved an inch lower to appease you, kneaded your left breast again for good measure. The motion kept you at attention, pliable and eager to please, to do whatever needed to get what you so desperately desired. You shot Sevika a glance that would have put your own hounds to shame.

"Look at my pretty girl. Can't wait to get fucked, can she? What’s the magic word, sweetness?"

Your heart rate spiked right as your belly backflipped. Embarrassment shouldn’t have crept up given how many fucking times you both have done this.

And yet…

“Please?” you said, supplementing with a slow roll of your hips. “Please, Daddy Bear?”

Well, any amount of embarrassment was worth the tremor that vibrated through your lover. It was cute how she couldn’t fully contain her excitement when her sadistic side poked its head out to play.

"Good girl. Let go."

You gave her blazing hand one final squeeze before you did.

Sevika inhaled at your hairline and planted open-mouthed kisses from neck to ear. The shudder in her breaths was evident enough that she wanted to drive further, deeper. She was losing herself, relinquishing her mastery of control. "I want to hear you choke on my fingers, baby. Can you do that for me?"

You nodded. "Mhm…"

"Good. Now, open your mouth."

You obeyed, stuck your tongue out for good measure.

Sevika traced the curve of your chin and jaw, then your top lip until she rested on your bottom. She caressed the center right under the tip of your tongue. "Get my fingers nice and wet, and then I'll give you what you want. Deal?"

“Mhmm…” You accepted her first offered digit between your lips to suck on. She let you control the pace, allowed you to grab her flesh hand in yours to worship and savor at your leisure. You rolled your tongue around it again, working arduously to cover every inch in your saliva.

When you were ready, you added a second, her ring finger. It reached the back of your tongue with ease, and the thought of how trivial it would be to gag on it made you throb between your thighs. But you weren't ready. Not yet. With both in your mouth, you set them on your tongue and began to suck them off.

In.

Rest.

Out.

In

Rest.

Out.

You repeated the motion, eyes half-lidded as you savored the moment. You sucked her fingers like you would her strap, albeit a much easier experience, but erotic nonetheless. Unlike her strap, there wasn't enough girth to stretch your lips or ache your jaw. Not enough length to tickle the back of your throat into gagging too hard. But you still took her all the way, and when she hit the back of your tongue, you coughed and choked and opened your watering eyes to cherish your girlfriend's reactions.

An excited tremble shook through Sevika, rocking you. She fixated on your mouth and the saliva that dripped down your chin as she removed her hand. "Fuck…" She took one swipe over your bottom lip—admired it—before dipping into your underwear.

The two soaked digits glided on either side of your clit. The temperature and texture difference forced your head back onto her shoulder with a loud gasping moan. Just like her virtue, her strokes were resolute, every one aiming to make you feel it from top to bottom.

Sevika never disappointed. For all the times she enjoyed watching and hearing you beg, she loved giving you a full body experience to make up for the wait. While she worked her fingers, she pressed herself into you. She worked her claws up your body—cold metal on burning flesh—until she reached and tugged on your nipple again. Her breath tickled your earlobe as she alternated between nips and featherlight kisses trailing to your collar. Abandoned your clit to tease a ring around your entrance.

"That feel good?" she asked.

Dragging the response from your brain proved more tedious than you imagined. You pushed past the mental haze, swam past the dark cloud until you found the words you were looking for.

"Mhm… y-yeah. Yeah… it feels so good…"

“Hahaha… here." She snatched her hand away and you whined as she painted your lips with your own slick. "Taste."

You pulled her soaked fingers into your mouth, lapping at the lingering juice extracted from her tease and craving more.

You stole her hand and guided it back into your underwear, back to sliding around your clit. "Vika…" you whined.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Want your fingers in me, bear… Want 'em deep."

There was no shame in the request, even if your cheeks burned brightly. But you did shudder at Sevika's rumbling laugh behind you. Hissed at her teasing loop around your entrance.

"Want 'em deep, hmm?" she mimicked. Her words lingered, clung to the air like the Zaun Gray as she finally, finally pushed one finger past the threshold into you.

A gentle "fuck" dribbled past your lips. You ground your head harder into her shoulder as you shut your eyes to the world, hellbent on focusing solely on the sensations she gifted you.

Sevika plunged as deeply as she could. Slow motions, in and out, with a curling caress against your soft and sensitive front wall. Then stopped to let you accommodate. Her claws grazed your ribs and under your breast once more before settling at your neck.

Your spine straightened, eyes flew open as she tapped your jugular. Your attention locked with hers.

"You still with me?"

The implication was clear. Sevika loved to be rough and push your limits, and you were more than willing to bend and test them under her watchful guard. Two years together was enough to solidify a clear communication base, but you didn't progress this far without a great deal of understanding and patience. She was surprisingly a good listener, which, in retrospect, shouldn't have been surprising given her line of work. Credit where credit was due, of course.

Finally, you sighed your agreement and braced yourself for the oncoming crescendo.

Sevika retracted her finger to add a second to the mix. She inserted, slowly, sheathed both inside you like a deadly weapon. Large fingers stretched you in that way you loved so much, and she muffled your oncoming moan with her own lips and tongue.

The fog that muddled your brain thickened by the second. Your focus darted everywhere, trying desperately to keep up with every angle of pleasure she massaged your senses with.

Her claws set firmly in place on your neck. Tapped there again in rhythm. Made you acknowledge their presence. She tutted when you arched against her to coax her plan into motion.

"Deja de moverte. Be still." Her index traced down the column of your throat, bobbed under your careful swallow. If you hadn't known her as long as you had, it would have felt like a threat. Instead, it was a warning, a safety precaution.

You stilled, relaxed, and breathed evenly, counting in your head like she taught you.

She pumped once, a test.

Paused.

Another, and Janna, it was difficult not to fidget.

A third, and she open-kissed the corner of your jaw for passing. She kept her pace slow and put pressure on the arteries, leaving your throat and breathing free.

Your pulse thumped against her metal palm. The restricted blood flow intensified every other sensation, had your eyes fluttering. You rasped. The abyss lingered at the very edge of your consciousness, and you wanted to go deeper, sink further, play chicken with it…

Fuck.

Fuck…

But Sevika pulled you out as quickly as you dipped in.

You mourned the loss, but knew it was for the best. Sevika knew it was for the best.

"Good girl," she cooed in your ear, then turned your head back to the mirror. "Look at you, sweetness. My pretty girl."

You gazed in the mirror to stare at the absolutely fucked-out figure in your girlfriend's arms. Half-lidded eyes and parted lips meshed well with erect nipples and crimson marks painting a beautiful and exposed neck. The heady redolence of sex wafted in the air. With your underwear lowered, Sevika's fingers plunged in and out of a pussy glistening with slick. Every thrust filled your ears with the gushing sounds of your juices soaking her fingers.

Your juices.

You were acutely aware it was you in the mirror. Aware of the high you got from the deadly, metal hand at your neck. Aware that your essence remained coated on your tongue. Aware that she fucked you in all primal senses until they dulled.

Blood pounded your ears.

She thrusted.

Heart rammed against your ribcage.

She thrusted.

"Vika…" you moaned. "Se-Sevikaaa…"

You buried your nose into her collar and your world went dark as your hips gyrated into her fingers and into her body. Your orgasm rolled through you like a wave, ebbing and flowing with Sevika's slowing thrusts, every jerk a splash against her. The mantra of her name on your lips broke down to a whispering prayer. She murmured against your temple, gentle words you couldn't fully comprehend with your mind still rattled.

Ragged breaths escaped from your lungs. Your legs wobbled even with Sevika holding you up with her metal arm. And Janna, were you hot. Despite feeling like you’d just sprinted a marathon, the blissfulness was unmatched.

"You okay, sweetheart?" she asked, then her voice dropped. "Or did I fuck you too good?"

You cradled her left arm—a nice chill for your burning skin—with your laugh rolling right into a satisfied purr. She wasn't wrong; even with her fingers she fucked you well into another dimension and it took at least a full minute before your awareness returned. Sevika was still very much buried inside you, unmoving, but still there.

And it felt… good.

She must have been thinking the same as she adjusted and kissed behind your ear. "Gonna pull out now."

And when she did, carefully, you winced and jerked against her. But you stopped her. Her eyebrow rose at you in the mirror, and you quelled her questions when you took those two fingers into your mouth.

"Fuck…" Sevika's claws dug at your hip as she stared at you like Janna herself made her ethereal presence known to the world. She was awestruck watching you clean her hand of your essence. Hungry. Feral. Predatory glint in her wolf-grey eyes.

She spun you around and after a few quick glances at your lips, leaned in to capture them in hers. The usual spark and dominance showed in her aggression—teeth clicked against yours, deft tongue eager to taste and explore your mouth for the umpteenth time. It dizzied you, made it hard to breathe. You shivered as cool metal waltzed down your back, and you retaliated with a prance up her abs.

Sevika flexed under you, rock solid, before she pulled away and stared at you with blown pupils. She tilted your chin up, holding you in place to command your attention, then licked her full lips.

"You taste so fucking good," she whispers.

You locked eyes with her. Experience told you everything she wanted to do to you. How she desired to bend and mold your body, stretch and push you to your limits, savor every bite like a last meal at Stillwater. You melted under her watchful eyes. All you had for her was a smile, and she mirrored it with a wolfish smirk of her own. You seized the moment and moved from her abs to sternum. The thump-thumping of her heart slowed, adrenaline and lust finally wearing off as she knocked her forehead against yours. You inhaled, the lingering base note of her cologne recentering you and pulling your focus back.

"Look at you. So fucking pretty," she said.

Even with your own essence spread across your lips, your knees buckling under her, your eyes half-lidded and dazed, she still gazed at you like you were the most beautiful specimen in all of Runeterra.

"You're such a good girl, you know that?" She released your chin to knock a strand of hair out of your face. "Don't you ever forget it."

You knew what you meant to her, inside and outside the bedroom, but you would never grow tired of hearing her say it.

"Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Daddy."

She gave you two quick pecks followed by a final and more passionate third. And just like that you both relinquished your roles to pick up again another day.

"Let’s get you cleaned up.” Sevika caressed your cheek with her knuckles. “Ready for a shower?"

You shook your head. "In the morning? Took one earlier. Don't feel like it. Also don't think I can stand much longer."

That was all fine with Sevika. She hoisted you onto the counter, asked you to wait, and sauntered off into the bedroom.

The high was finally starting to wear off as you leaned against the bathroom counter, replaced with the occasional brush with darkness. The ghost of Sevika's fingers still remained buried in your cunt—a nice stretch that left a delicious throb and ache in its wake. Wet stickiness between your thighs had you rubbing them together. You could only imagine how great Sevika's tongue would have felt if either of you were up for it.

Eventually, she returned in sweatpants and her sports bra with a washcloth she pulled from the linen closet.

"Hey," she said, lifting your chin gently. "Sleepy already?" Her lip twitched at what you assumed was an oncoming smirk but it never came to light. Your attention wavered and those were the last words you were able to decipher.

Sevika chuckled to herself.

With the mess between your legs cleaned and dried, Sevika flung your arms around her neck. The bathroom light flickered off and you floated to the bedroom and drifted down to the bed.

Sevika stretching over you was the last thing you saw before the bedroom was plunged into darkness.

------

Sudden rhythmic caresses across your ass and thigh stirred you from sleep. Distant cerulean lights sliced through pitch black, left splatters on the far wall. Heartbeats rocked beneath your cheek in tandem with the rise and fall of the strong, bare chest beneath you.

When the motions stopped, you drifted again, struggling to fight sleep until a light buzz startled you alert.

Worry set in at the annoyed and familiar ursine grumble. The hand left you to snatch the phone off the nightstand. It only took five seconds before your girlfriend set it back down and shifted under you.

Immediately, you felt your time together was over. Early texts usually meant last minute shipping manifests. And shipping manifests meant the rare days where Sevika left you in bed alone. Instinct took over and you straddled the body under you, hands planted on her muscular chest to keep her in place.

Sevika rose to her elbows. "What's up, sweetness? You okay?"

You could have laughed. Typical Sevika, overly worried about you while her sleepy, husky voice lit a small fire in your loins. You made a valiant attempt to stamp it down.

"¿Cariño?"

You reached out slowly. Traced down the soft curves of her angular face—forehead to nose, lips to chin—then cupped her cheek. You rested your own forehead against hers.

Neither of you spoke. Didn't need to. Your worry was evident but Sevika snorted. Her sigh tickled your cheek and lips. She peppered lazy kisses across your jaw, down the column of your neck, and back up to rest on your lips.

Simple reassurance.

Metal and flesh engulfed you and pulled you close until you settled your head back home on her chest. Warm fingertips traced the ridges of your spine—down, down, down—back to cup your ass and the back of your thigh.

"Just a reminder text from Ran. Still gotta be up in seven hours." Her voice deepened, a still-sleepy-growling-purr that rolled a shiver up your spine. "After we're done, I'm all yours."

You knew from experience and the nature of Sevika's line of work that she couldn't promise that. Still, her word was as good as gold. Phone communication could only tide you over for so long after a long and stressful week. You drifted off, mumbling to yourself and Sevika about how thankful you were to finally have time together.

#Arcane #Sevika #Sevika/Reader #Sevika x Reader #Arcane Sevika #Sevika x You #Sevika smut #League of Legends #Sevika fic #fanfiction #nix fics #graphic design is my passion.jpg #I put way too much effort into making that image and correcting the formatting so please support lol #seriously image editing is like the one internet skill I never picked up LMAO #heacanon #headcanon: sevika

[ghnbear]

#manhwa #bl manhwa #graphic smut #smut yaoi #boys love #a man of virtue #a man of virtue manhwa

[oftenwantedafton]

Maybe - Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female Reader

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - sexual content

Summary - Your coworker Steve Raglan hates you.

You’ve no idea why, only certain that he does, blatantly evident in his every word and gesture.

So when you find yourself locked in the mail room with him after hours one evening, you’re not expecting much to happen. Boredom. Silence.

Certainly not his body pressed against yours. His hands on you. Wanting.

Also available on AO3

Steve Raglan hates you.

You’re not sure what you’ve done to deserve it, precisely. The impression of that emotion had been apparent from the first moment you’d met him. There hadn’t even been a proper introduction, really. Just instructions to bring a client back to the career counselor’s office. Friendly enough towards the young man you guide through his open door, his nasally rusted voice beckoning the job hopeful further inside. The inviting smell of fresh brewed coffee permeating the interior of the room. The friendly smile on your own features wilting when you see him moving to close the door for privacy. The hard line of his mouth. His eyes dismissive. You could pass it off as your imagination except it happens again whenever you see him. The break room. The copy room. The parking lot. Wherever you happen to encounter one another. The weight of his disapproving stare makes your shoulders droop. You check your appearance in the restroom, lift an arm to make sure your deodorant is working. You even mention it to one of the other girls in the office, someone who’s worked there for a while. She shrugs. Says he’s always been polite. You try to nonchalantly inquire with a few other individuals and receive a similar response.

So, no. You have no idea why Steve Raglan hates your guts. You just know that he does. So you try to avoid him as much as possible. And that actually sort of works. You can even almost forget that the middle aged man despises you for absolutely no valid reason as the weeks pass into months.

***

It’s late.

The office officially closed an hour ago. But you’ve still got work to do. Things that you could leave for the morning, you suppose, but you dislike starting the workday behind schedule with cluttered backlog. So you don’t completely notice the lights getting dimmed, the reduced noise, the failing daylight outside the office windows. Your fingers continue to fly across the keyboard. You’ve finally finished the last of the mail correspondence. You print the page and fold it twice, sliding it inside a business size envelope and sealing it shut. The taste of the envelope makes you wince. Why can’t they make the adhesive more pleasant? Sweeter. Like a mint or hard candy. Anything would be preferable.

You switch off the monitor and tuck your chair beneath the desk. All you have left to do is put this batch of letters in the mailroom. You decide to leave your purse and jacket behind. You’ll grab them on your way out the door.

You can hear the hum of the fluorescent lights, louder than normal now that the office is devoid of the bustle of business activity. No conversations, no ringing phones, no sounds of typing or printing. Just stillness. You don’t think you’ve ever stayed here this late before. You think you might be one of the last ones left.

You’re not.

Steve Raglan is inside the mailroom. Standing beside the rows of cubbies for inter office mail. The copier behind him suddenly spitting out pages. You haven’t had to interact with him recently. You’d almost forgotten that haughty glare of his over the rims of his gold framed glasses.

“I’m just going to drop these in the outgoing box.”

The room is very small. The cubbies, the copier, a waste paper bin, a cabinet with a slot for putting materials to be shredded. That’s all. Narrow confines. The closest you’ve ever been to him. He’s wearing cologne, a pleasant fragrance that’s earthy yet almost sweet. Underlying notes of citrus. You have to press close to reach the correct box and the smell grows stronger. You should have just waited. But who knows how long he’d be there. The copy machine is still running.

In your attempt to be stealthy you trip and reach out for something to stabilize you. The edge of the open door. You manage not to fall. The door swings shut behind you and you hear a click.

A sound of disgust from the tall man. You turn and jerk on the door handle, shoving. You just want to retreat. No movement. You push harder, really wrenching on the brushed nickel fixture. Nothing. It’s sealed shut. You’re locked in.

Your bearded companion seems to realize what’s happened a heartbeat after you do. He shoves past you and tries the door handle himself. You’re pressed against the shredder bin, the uncomfortably sharp corners digging into you through your pencil skirt.

“You idiot. We’re locked in.”

“I…I’m sorry.” You don’t know what else to say.

He tries hammering on the door. His voice is louder than you’ve ever heard it. Confirming what you both already know. You’re the last two people in the office.

“Now we’re going to have to wait for the cleaning crew to come in. Which will probably be…” He glances at his wristwatch “…six hours from now, at least.”

Trapped in this confined space. You’re not strictly claustrophobic, but you think you could develop that condition rather quickly if you dwelled on the situation you’re currently trapped in for too long. Stuck in something marginally larger than a closet, with a man that loathes you.

And now he’s actually got a reason to. Nice going.

The copy machine goes silent. You move to stand across from the social worker, the most distance you can put between you. He leans against the door and folds his arms across his chest, scowling at you. The room is unpleasantly warm already. Or maybe that’s just your nerves, a little rush of adrenaline making the capillaries in your limbs have increased blood flow, your elevated metabolism generating more heat. You always get hot when you’re nervous. You feel your scalp prickle. Your palms are damp. You try to shrink back against the copier further.

You don’t know how much time passes but the awkward silence and staring contest are too much. Your lower back is burning already. You step out of your heels. Let your toes curl in the carpet. A little relief. Steve continues to glower.

You’re going to attempt to sit. It’s difficult, between the limited space and you wearing a narrow skirt. You ease down until your buttocks makes contact with the carpet. Keep your stockinged legs straight in front of you, maintaining your modesty. You fiddle with the charm bracelet on your wrist.

A sigh. The middle aged man joins you on the floor. His long legs bent. Head knocking back against the wood surface behind him with a soft thump. The hem of his pants slightly raised so you can see his socks. Dark purple, and are those little rabbits printed on them? You frown curiously. It’s so out of character for anything on this stern figure to be whimsical. Maybe they’d been a gag gift. Laundry day and nothing else to wear. You’d already checked on a previous occassion to see if he wore a wedding ring. Nothing. His forearms rest on his knees. His hands were massive.

“Can’t you find something else to stare at?”

You blink. Neither of you has spoken in awhile. “I’m not staring,” you protest defensively. “There just isn’t a lot to look at in this room.”

“Find something.”

You chew your bottom lip, your cheeks flushing. There is nothing. The walls are blank. The cubbies and shredder hardly warrant much attention. You know the logo on the reams of paper stacked on the floor by heart now. “I don’t know why you hate me so much. Aside from tonight I’ve never done anything to you.”

The man barks a short laugh. “Hate you? I have absolutely no emotion towards you at all. Nothing.”

Somehow this makes you feel much worse. Now you’re desperately looking anywhere but at the career counselor. You reach for one of the sealed stacks of copy paper, unfolding the end and sliding a blank page free. Begin folding it in random directions. Just something to keep your hands occupied. You notice Steve squirming a bit in your peripheral vision.

“I can move so you can stretch a bit,” you murmur. You fold your legs without waiting for a response, tucking them to one side. You see him hesitate, attempting to stretch but it’s impossible. His legs are too long. “You’re really tall.”

A grunt. You push yourself back into a standing position. Roll your shoulders. Bend and touch your toes. You don’t know why you’re trying to accommodate him but you see him relax. A little sigh of relief.

You kind of need to pee. You were going to hit the John before you left for work. You’re eyeing the wastebin and thinking if worse comes to worse... No. No way. You can wait six hours. Less than that, now. “What time is it?”

“Eight. Almost.”

So another four hours, then. Steve stands again and you sink back down. Your stomach growls. You’d only had a salad for lunch. You think about the steak and lo mein noodles and stir fry vegetables you had waiting for you at home. You’d been planning on curling up on the couch with a bowlful and relaxing in front of the television. Instead you’re stuck here. With him. The man who hates you.

***

Later now. The only conversation inquiries about the time until your coworker informs you you’re asking too frequently and making things worse. Requesting silence. Raglan removes his glasses at one point, folding them and tucking them into his shirt pocket. Massaging the reddened indents on the bridge of his nose.

You’re both sitting on the floor again. His legs sort of half folded, angled slightly. You attempt to stretch yours. Just a gentle easing that you misjudge, your stockinged foot sliding across the carpet, stroking against the inside of Steve’s leg.

You freeze. You hadn’t meant to touch him. You can feel his body heat through the nylon covered extremity. Your eyes meet and his hand curls over your foot, trapping you there.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. Now you know how those large hands feel. Strong. Warm. Vice grip. Unrelenting.

“Are you?” His voice is different. Soft. Almost a purr of sound. His eyes different, too. Darker. Pupils dilating.

The hand abandons you. He rises, and you struggle to stand, much less gracefully. Something’s happening. You don’t know what yet. A shift in the atmosphere. The rift of tension merging into something else. One of those strong hands now closing over your forearm. Snapping over it like a manacle. Dragging you towards him.

Your back is to him now. Against him. The hand on your arm moving now to the hidden zipper on the side of your skirt. Your heart is pounding. His breath rasps loudly. You don’t think yours is much shallower. The waistband of your skirt loosens. His fingers are splayed against your sternum, the pinky and lower edge of his palm pressing along the tops of your breasts. His other hand invades the charcoal material covering your lower half. Tucks beneath the pale pink panties that match your blouse. Dips right through the damp flesh of your sex and you whimper.

Steve heaves a heavy sigh when he makes that intimate first contact. Satisfaction. Lust. His fingertips feel calloused. You wonder what career he’d held previously, the thought dashed away when he begins circling your clit, using your arousal for lubricant. You’re on fire. How is this the same man that had told you hours before he had no feelings towards you whatsoever? Had he just been frustrated? Wanting you but thinking it was improper for some reason or—

One finger dips inside your entrance, his thumb now working your clit. You should have been embarrassed by the amount of fluid you’re spilling over his probing digits but you’re not. You just don’t want him to stop touching you. Maybe it’s because you hadn’t had a boyfriend in awhile. Maybe because you hadn’t masturbated recently, usually too tired by the time you make dinner and shower and go to bed. Or maybe it’s because it was Steve Raglan specifically. The man that loathes you taking you apart with expert precision. You’ve never been intimate without kissing, without cuddling, without some foreplay. To skip straight to this…

The sound of a pair of fingers invading your body is loud. They curl inside you. You can feel his erection digging against you. The breath coming in short pants. Yours, his. A cacophony of struggling air exchange. The perfect pressure of your partially hooded nub rolled against the bone beneath. The fingers tucked inside stroking curved tissue. Your full bladder making the sensations even more intense. Your nails dig into Steve’s forearm through his dress shirt. You’re on the brink of orgasm. You recognize the feeling building inside of you. That trapped pressure that needs release. His fingers increasing the pace. Pressing harder. There. You cry out and his grip on your torso tightens as your climax wracks your body. You feel dizzy. Spots in front of your eyes. Christ. The best one you’ve ever had, hands down. The aftershocks are still pulsing through you in tingling little bursts of pleasure.

You begin to come down off your high, you body limp and liquid, still supported by the man behind you. His hand leaves your pussy, dragging the fabric of your skirt up. Something feverish and hard pressed against your buttocks. His cock, out of his pants. Dragging against your bare skin where the underwear doesn’t cover. Now tucked beneath the legband. Thrusting against you, constricted into that tight space, like fucking a virgin cunt. The arm still bracing your body against his shakes. A curse and a hot spill of fluid. A lot of cum, filling that pocket he’s created between your panties and your buttocks.

You eventually move apart. You can feel his semen seeping into the fabric. Adjust your skirt. You hear his fly being zipped back up.

The rough breathing subsides. Post nut clarity, isn’t that what men called it? The reality of what you’ve just allowed to happen washing over you. You let this man that’s old enough to be your father finger you to orgasm. Let him use your panties like a sex toy and dump a load against your body. And you’d liked it. Fuck. You shiver at the memory. You’re too shy to meet his gaze. Another stretch of silence.

***

A band of light beneath the door. Someone is in the office.

Steve sees your sharp gaze and turns to face the door. Banging loudly. Yelling. It takes a few moments for the custodian to unlock the door, looking very surprised to find a pair of workers trapped in the mailroom.

You make a beeline for the restroom and grab your things. Steve doesn’t say a word on your walk to the parking lot. So back to this, then. Radio silence. Whatever the hell his issue is with you. Whatever had just happened in the mailroom. A quickie. Boredom or what. Who fucking knows. You skip dinner, opting for a shower and bed.

***

The next morning you get ready for work at your usual time. Telling yourself you’re not being selective about the lingerie you’re wearing. Not choosing a flowing button front dress because it’s easier access. You’re not expecting anything to happen. You don’t want anything to happen. Do you? A throb between your legs at the memory. Okay, fuck. Yes you do. You’d barely slept. Remembering what he’d done. Gotten so worked up thinking about it you’d had to have another round just to take the edge off. Thinking about those big hands on your body. Imagining the feel of his beard abrading your thighs, those dark lustful eyes watching you as he goes down on you. What had felt like a very generously sized cock stretching you. Pumping you full of his cum. Nope. Not thinking about that in any great detail at all. Sure you weren’t. Another tingling pulse as you look at your reflection in the mirror. You really need to stop. This is the guy that hates you that you’re fantasizing about. Or is indifferent towards you, allegedly. Except you can’t reconcile that idea, the juxtaposition with your intimacy making no sense whatsoever. Maybe he just liked playing head games with people. You’re an easy target for that. Too sensitive. You cried over sappy Hallmark movies. Got sentimental on the holidays. Donated every time you saw one of those commercials pleading for funds for animals in need. A big softie. So yeah. You made for easy prey, you supposed.

You don’t even have to wait long to see him again. He’s got the first client of the morning. You have to pass the mailroom on your way to Steve’s office. You’re trying very hard not to think about what had happened in there. Trying to be professional.

Your resolve shatters the instant you see him. The way his hand looks when he reaches for the doorknob. That glare above his glasses. The slightest smirk, that brief twitch of lips so rapid you think you might have imagined it. It’s no good. He’s ruined your ability to concentrate. The paperwork piles up. It’s noon. Break time, the office closes for an hour. You have to pass by Raglan’s office to get to the break room. His door is open. You tell yourself you’re just going to check to see if he’s there, some bullshit excuse about the time his next client that’s a last minute add on is arriving at the ready. A perfectly valid reason for you to be there.

He is inside. Slouching slightly in the brown leather office chair. Thumb depressing the end of his pen, driving the nib from the barrel. Another click and it retracts. Watching you. Waiting. “I just came to tell you there’s been a last minute add on. You have someone coming in at one.”

“Shut the door.”

You hesitate, wondering if he intends for you to close it behind you when you leave. The faint smell of that morning’s coffee still lingers in the air.

A sigh. He straightens and stands and the chair creaks. He shuts the door himself. You’re still in the room. So he wanted you here. With him. Wants you. Something. You’re unsure.

He settles back behind the desk. A slight curve of fingers beckoning you. You stand beside his seated frame. Heart beating like mad. It was happening again. This time during the day. With people nearby. The blinds were open. Warm bands of sun across his desk, against your skin. “Kneel down.” You don’t even question it. Just let yourself descend. The carpet protector hard against your knees through the stockings and layer of your dress. Still waiting. Watching you. His eyes dark again, full of desire. Another little sigh of exasperation. You decide to take the initiative and rest your hands on his thighs. There’s so much of them. So much mileage to go before you reach your destination. You jerk on his belt and the metal releases from the leather. Button unfastened. Zipper peeled down. No reaction from Steve. You debate whether to use the flap of his boxer briefs or just shove the waistband down. Opt for the latter. He’s even bigger than you’d suspected. Long. Thick. Cut. Fat head dripping precum. Fuck. Your cunt is already responding. Pink nails against his dark pink skin as your hand curls around. Leaning forward, tongue swiping along the opening. A sharp inhale. A response at last. A faint musk. Soap tinged. Masculine. Clean. You take him further in.

A mouthful already and you’ve barely begun. You feel his body shifting positions, slouching a bit more, getting comfortable. Your stretched lips slide over him. In and out. Just shallow attempts for now. Getting accustomed to Raglan’s cock in your mouth. God that’s a sentence you’d never thought you’d utter. Think. Whatever.

The phone rings and the head slips from your mouth. Another sigh. “Don’t stop.” He leans a bit and lifts the phone off the cradle. Yellowing plastic thing that had maybe been light gray once like the computer monitor and mouse and keyboard. Very out of date. You have newer ones at the front end. You wonder why he hasn’t requested upgraded models.

“Steve Raglan, may I help you?” So polite. His timbre much lighter. Friendly. Jovial, even. He clears his throat. Fingers of his free hand patting his thigh to remind you to continue. You’re not expecting those fingers to knot in your hair and hold you in place. Your nostrils flare in protest at the limited air as his hips move, pistoning his cock into your maw until he’s touching your throat. You’re gagging, coughing. Feel saliva thickly pooling. He keeps you there. His voice above you so light and airy, so different from what’s happening beneath his desk. “We offer a variety of services. Yes, we’re used to working with candidates with less than ideal backgrounds. The success rate of our job placements…” You lose track of the conversation. He finally jerks your head back and you gasp for air. Your lips are tingling. So is your pussy. Fuck if he doesn’t have you wound up. Wetter than the cock you’ve just slicked up with your spit. Your throat is burning already.

“I’d be more than happy to take a look at the applicant’s job history. Our fax number…” You’re shoved onto his dick again mercilessly. Your nails dig into his thighs. “Sure, I’ll hold.” The fingers in your hair tightening. The chair creaking loudly in protest when he shoves himself back inside. You’re a little better prepared this time. Manage to work up and down his length without much guidance. Concentrate on resisting your gag reflex. Keeping your jaw loose, your lips tight. His fingers curl over the bottom of the phone, blocking the speaker. “You’re going to swallow every drop.” Your eyes widen and you attempt to nod your understanding. Rather difficult considering the position you’re currently in. The little smirk is back, lingering this time. “Hi, yes, I’m still here. Yes, it’s coming through right now. Another question? I’d be happy to help if I can.” You recognize the irritation underlying the false accommodation. He doesn’t really want to help. You hear the fax machine behind Steve’s chair. Dial tone and connection made and pages printed before a longer beep to announce it’s finished. Your head continues to work on as much of the career counselor’s prick as you can manage. Edging a bit more of the shaft inside. Testing the absolute limit. A momentary panicked gurgle before he eases up again. Another loud gasp. There’s no way the man or woman on the other end of the line isn’t hearing this. Steve’s breathing has gotten louder. His voice a lot coarser and lower pitched. “Yes, that’s right. Pleasure to assist. We’ll be in touch.” The phone slams down and he fucks deeply into your throat. Repeats. Again and again, hammering away until he withdraws and you suck in air. You can feel the saliva coating your face, smearing your cheeks and chin. You think your mascara might be running. The lip gloss you’d had on has certainly been chafed right off by now. “Look at me.” Your eyes lift. It’s exactly what he needs to send him over the edge. Your helpless captive mouth and throat around his cock. His taste filling those places. Bitter. Thin. Another great quantity, like the previous evening. The softest little moan of sound, stifled behind the fist he presses against his mouth. Something about that excites you to no end. The fact that you’d made him feel so much pleasure he’d had to stop himself from making too much noise.

You lean back on your heels. He’s still staring. You wipe at the spit coating your face.

“Panties off. Sit on my desk.” It never occurs to you to refuse. Rational thought beyond you. Just that one solid wood door between you and discovery. Maybe that was part of the enjoyment for him. A touch of exhibitionism. Like how he’d had you blow him while he was on the phone just now.

You grab handfuls of the material draped around your hips and tuck your fingers into your panties. Step out of them, leaving them on the floor at your feet. You still have your heels on. Your bare ass settles on the ink blotter, your dress bunched around your midsection.

His fingers hook underneath the edge of the desk and he drags his seated form closer to you, the wheels of the chair grinding along plastic. Those calloused fingers stroke your thighs. Another pair of thigh high stockings today, these ones a soft navy to coordinate with your dress. He strokes along the lace trim. Shoves at the draped fabric still concealing your sex. Another of your fantasies from late last night about to come true.

You’d suspected Steve was going to be a master at eating pussy and God were you right in that assumption. The tip of his tongue—this longer than average as well, it seems every feature of the man’s body ran to the extreme—curling and flicking across your clit. A needy whine escapes you. That muscular organ now dividing the petals of your pussy, driving into your entrance. A muffled moan at your taste. Your head rocks back. The mouth of your entrance waters in response to his jabbing tongue. He’s barely begun and you’re already about to explode. His nose digs into your mound as he slurps the sensitive pink flesh into his mouth. His beard not rough against your skin as you’d expected. Much silkier. Soft. Your bundle of nerve endings being sucked. Stroked. Teased. He brings you close then backs away. Each time the impending orgasm feels more intense. Even just his breath against your damp cunt is enough to stimulate you. You let your fingers sift through his graying hair. The glasses have been tossed aside. His hands are curled around your thighs. He continues to languidly sup at the place between them. Your lunch break must be nearly over now. A combination now of tongue flicks and sucking centered directly on your clit. This time he doesn’t hold back. You bite your lip hard, keening when your release finally washes over you. Someone has surely heard. You try to stifle the next moan of pleasure. He is unrelenting, persisting even when your trembling thighs attempt to close and you push at his head. Somehow your body survives the onslaught and the fire is kindled again. He’s going to make you cum again.

A second climax wracks through you. Steve finally moves away. His bearded face is damp from your juices. You let your legs drop over the edge of the desk, hands bracing yourself to remain sitting. You feel absolutely wrung out. And it’s amazing.

There’s that awkward silence again as you both recover. Adjusting clothing. Subtly removing body fluids from obvious places. At least there’s a restroom right across the hall. Your eyes dart to the clock on the wall. One hour exactly. Raglan remains silent. You don’t know what to say. You end up leaving his office, more conflicted than ever.

The afternoon passes. A few clients directed Steve’s way. Everything strictly professional between you. You’ve got to work double time to make up for your distracted performance earlier that day. The display on your computer monitor confirms what you already know. You’re late again.

This time you’re going to use the restroom before you leave work. Just in case. You never know what could happen. You pass the mailroom. It’s empty, the door open. Steve’s office door is shut. You don’t recall seeing him leave but you hadn’t exactly been watching the entrance the entire time.

You finish in the bathroom and head back down the hall. Car keys successfully withdrawn from purse, the strap of which now sits on your shoulder. Cardigan on. You turn to leave.

He’s there. Leaning against the open doorway that leads to the reception area. Those dark eyes watching you. You feel the strap of your handbag already sliding down.

“What happened to being indifferent?” You’re surprised when the words leave your mouth. Maybe he’d just expected you to keep going along with his sexual whims. Playing whatever game this was.

“Maybe that was a poor choice of words.” He pushes off of the molding covered frame, walking towards you. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”

You stand your ground. One of his big hands now rests on your cheek, rough thumb drawing an invisible line under your bottom lip. “Maybe…”

He doesn’t finish the thought with words, his face lowering to yours.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan smut #william afton smut #dividers credit @saradika-graphics

[milky-aeons]

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑

౨ৎ  . . . in which JEAN KIRSCHTEIN finally gets that idyllic little home in the interior, reminisces on the echoes of war, and can't seem to keep his hands off of his pregnant newly-wed wife.

warnings: swearing, sexual content, pregnancy, depictions of violence, memories of war/ptsd, mdni, w.c 2.4k

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐓, clinking against the crystal glass that reflected the light.

It jostled Jean from his dark musings — calling him back from the battlefield within his mind.

He glanced over at it, blinking. Reaching towards the little glass, he picked it up and swirled the contents around. It was a fine whiskey — brewed and stored in Ashwood barrels to give it that intoxicating flavour. During his soldier days, Jean had only been able to dream about touching such expensive whiskey to his lips. And yet here he was, on a bright afternoon deep into autumn, drinking a glass like he had an endless supply of it on his home terrace in the Capital.

It was everything he could have ever wanted.

And yet, it did nothing to quell the screams and cries, the memories of bloodshed roaring up to wash over him.

To drown him.

From the moment he had woken up next to his snoozing wife that morning, Jean just knew today was going to be tough. There were many of them ever since the war ended — days where he could not get out of bed, where he couldn't even will himself to step into the shower without feeling like he was choking. The scars left from the war were deep and corrosive, and perhaps, they would never heal. But he owed it to each and every one of his fallen comrades to continue on. To build something beautiful out of the ashes left in their wake.

Jean winced suddenly — his fight or flight kicking in. In his ears, there was not the gentle din of shoppers from the Mitras street below or the chirping of bluebirds. There was carnage. There was the sounds of screaming orders, of ripping bodies and explosives. In one fraction of a second, he was back on that airship — he was getting ready to dive with his comrades onto the back of the Founding Titan with a slim chance that he would make it out alive—

"Morning, darling," An angel spoke to him, slicing through the clouds, and he felt something warm and comforting sliding down his taut chest. "You're quiet. Is everything alright?"

Slowly, so agonisingly slowly, the images of their last battle dissipated like departing smoke. In its remnants; the sounds of the markets below, the sweet-smelling breeze touched by autumn leaves, feminine arms reaching over his shoulders and playing with his frock.

Feminine — the scent of lilies and warmth. His wife. His beautiful, beautiful wife.

Jean inhaled, his chest expanding almost painfully, and fashioned his face into something composed. He craned his head back to meet your eyes. They were haloed in the tumbles of [h/c] hair that cascaded down to hide him from the outside world.

He flashed you a signature, cheeky grin. "All good. What are ya doin' up this early though?" He fired back at you, his eyebrows pinching with tender concern. "You should be resting."

It was true — and every time he saw the evidence of the life swelling in your belly, Jean felt the need to slap himself. Really, really hard, just to be sure. There was a bright glow that touched the tips of your cheeks, your breasts has swollen and become heavier, readying for the child who would be born within the next few months. A father, he was going to be a father. What were the fucking odds that they had made it this far, you and him, that you were bringing life into this new world. Something he originally believed would have been impossible.

You narrowed your eyes at your husband. There was a familiar look on his face, one which caused you to reach up and brush the curve of his brow.

"You have nightmares in your eyes, my love." You whispered.

He didn't contest, didn't say anything. But he didn't need to. Instead, he closed those honey-coloured eyes and sighed. Jean nudged into your touch — a silent ask — and you continued to rub soothing arcs against his skin. Smoothening out the wrinkles of his bunched expression.

"Shh, it's okay," You murmured in a calming tone. "You are safe. You are here, Jean. We made it. Nothing is going to hurt us, anymore."

Your husband took in deep breaths. First, quick and shallow, which then levelled out into a pace more even. From stroking his face, you let your deft fingertips dance along his skin and sink into his unruly hair, still unbrushed and tousled by sleep. It was past his ears now, you noticed, curling against the nape of his neck in soft sweeps.

"Your hair has gotten long again." You remarked, playing with their ends.

"Hmm," Jean responded. "Suppose so. Kinda like it." He then opened his eyes to look at you once more, and when he did, you were delighted to find they were their bright whiskey-gold, just like the bottle on your terrace table. You smiled softly down at him.

"You have come back to me."

Jean stared at you with those unyielding, clever eyes. He then reached up to catch your caressing hand and turned his face to place a kiss in the palm.

"Always." He whispered.

You would have spent that tender moment just basking in the sunlight with him there, thankful that you both had this time together. Your husband, however, seemed to have other plans. First, it was a wicked little glint that flashed across his eyes — and in the next moment, he was up, using the hand he had clasped to spin you around and hoist you up into his arms.

"J-Jean—!" You choked down a laugh. He scooped you up effortlessly into a bridal-style hold, walking through the terrace doors and into your shared little kitchen.

"Well, my wife is just lookin' extra beautiful this morning!" He chirped, and spun you around and around. Your giggles became a loud, playful scorn, calling him a silly man and demanding that he set you down before he made you and the baby dizzy.

"Our baby will come with a perpetual issue of poor balance!" You cried when he finally stopped, holding you close to him.

"If he's anything like his old man," Jean said. "He will have no problems. In fact, he'll be a damn master at all things balance. You know what they called me in the cadets, right?"

"Yes, yes. Mr. Genius at ODM Gear." Your faces were close, and you nuzzled into the strong column of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. "I just hope he will not be as big-headed."

"Hah? What did you say?"

Jean was peppering kisses starting from the very crown of your head, following a path of heat down your forehead, your cheeks, then finishing at your neck and giving you a playful nip.

You yelped, swatting at him. It only spurned him on, his broad shoulders that you held onto for support rumbling with his deep laughter. His butterfly kisses against your neck became a frenzy, tickling all of your sensitive spots, murmuring in his low voice who are ya makin' fun of? Hm? He both made you giggle and sparked a familiar heady feeling low in the pit of your stomach.

Your chuckles deepened in time with your quickening breath. It became thready and shallow, increasing in time as your heartrate picked up. Still in his captive bridal hold, you slid your hands from his shoulders to around his neck, tugging at his hair in that way you knew drove him wild.

His kisses tripped over your skin when you did so, his breath caught. Pleasured need rippled throughout your body. The kisses he placed on your neck became messier, changing from swift and teasing to hot, open-mouthed. You craned your head back to give him better access and he wasted absolutely no time — dragging the flat of his tongue from your collarbone to your ear, humming when you arched up in his hold.

Jean hoisted you up a little so he could move swiftly through the apartment. His long legs ate up the distance, gliding through the little one-storey terrace you had both made your home in the interior. You leaned up to him while he moved, kissing him sweetly, tenderly. Speaking in words you said so many times and would continue to say again; I love you. Now and forever.

Your second kiss, however, was meaner — you clamped your teeth on his bottom lip and he growled.

When he reached the bedroom you both shared, you felt Jean kick the door shut behind him, before walking you over to the unmade bed and placing you down. So gently, so caringly. The fragility of how he held you was almost enough to shatter your heart. The mattress dipped when he kneeled over you, encouraging you to lie down flat.

"You're gonna pay for doing that." He murmured in a rough voice.

Innocently, you bat your eyelashes. "For what, my dear husband?"

He leaned down so that your foreheads connected and closed his eyes, sighing hard through his nose. "For being so fuckin' irresistible."

Every inch of you was set alight as he leaned over you, caging you down to the bed with his larger body. You tried to surge up — to feel his mouth on yours and never stop, but he rose, kneeling so he could look down at you.

He was still in that light cotton sleeping shirt he wore to bed — hanging loosely around his neck, throwing his tanned skin into sublime focus. His golden eyes shadowed into a deep whiskey followed from your face, to your aching breasts, to your belly. The little swell there made his expression soften. He placed a hand onto your warm stomach and held it still, feeling the child you will soon share and raise together, his newly polished wedding band catching the morning light.

You felt like you were going to burst with the sheer force of love you felt for this man, Jean Kirschtein, your husband, for now and always. The longer you stared at him, the stronger the low pulse between your legs became.

"Jean." You whispered, and he looked up from under his fair lashes, understanding the plea in your voice.

Jean took his time undressing you, like the wicked little thing he was, delighting at how you wriggled under his touch like a trapped and desperate butterfly. When he had stripped both of you bare, you marvelled at the strong planes of his chest and tight, defined abdominal muscles. You traced each and every little scar he wore proudly, feeling those muscles twitch underneath your touch.

He was perfect. He was yours.

"Come here." You crooned, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him over you.

"Yes ma'am."

Your arms did not fit across the large expanse of his back muscles — you sunk your nails into the curves of his shoulder bones, feeling as they shifted when he crawled on top of you. His head dipped down to catch one of your sensitive nipples in his mouth and he sucked — nibbling softly. Your head knocked back. When he lifted his hand and closed the entirety of his palm over your unattended breast, the moan you let out was long and broken.

"They've gotten big, hm?" He whispered against your chest, chasing his words with loving kisses. "So pretty."

Impatient, lust racing through your bloodstream, you grabbed his wandering hand and guided it to where you ached between your thighs. So slick and swollen, Jean's eyebrows raised, his expression becoming incredibly smug.

"Oi, you've gotten impatient, have you?"

"Oh—yes, yes." You groaned when his fingers curled against you. He knew all the right spots to push, to rub, to make you sing for him.

"Come on, sweetheart, tell me what ya need."

"I need—oh, I need you!"

"Like this?" He cooed, pushing two fingers into you with such tender slowness. It felt exquisite, it felt so filling when you were hot and aching — but not enough.

To urge him, you hooked your leg around the strong curve of his lower back and pulled him into you. He made a sound of surprise, releasing his fingers from you to catch his weight by bracing his hands on either side of your head.

His wide eyes collided with your fierce ones. The intensity you were looking at him with made this ex-soldier's cock give a painful twitch.

"I need you. Inside me. Now."

Pleasure exploded down Jean Kirschtein's spine in a thousand lightning bolts. He hung his head forward, groaning, before reaching down to push your thighs gently apart to allow for his body to slot neatly with yours.

"Well, what typ'a husband would I be if I denied you?"

His cock slid inside you in a way that always felt so mind-numbingly perfect, like he was made to be there, to be yours. Jean let out a ferocious sound and buried into your swollen breasts. You moaned, deep, relieved, bucking your hips up to grind into him.

Jean resurfaced to connect your shining foreheads, once more. He reached down to cup your hips and drew out — pushing back inside with such concentration. He was being careful with you, he was handling you like you were the most precious thing in the entire world. You had become attuned to the monstrous power Jean Kirschtein housed in his toned body, honed from years of battling for his life. You had felt it. Even now, you could feel that hum under his skin — the strength he had used to fuck you against tables and walls, the marble tiling in the shower, the balcony in the deep hours of the night.

But now — he was a gentle, caring lover. He pulsed into you in at a steady pace. Both of you gasped each other's air. You clawed at him. His mouth dropped open to pant as he thrusted into you again, again, again.

When his movements started to become messier, less co-ordinated, did he reach down between the both of you and thrum his fingers against where you were most sensitive. You barked out a cry. The bed began to rock and whine with the force of your love-making.

"Come with me, [Name]." He growled against your shoulder. "Come on, sweetheart, come with me, come with me."

In a delirious haze of ecstasy, you nodded your head, again and again until the apex of your pleasure crested and swelled. Your nails dug into his skin. Jean's breaths quickened until they became choked, gasping moans, and his release smashed into him. You fell, too, crashing through the wall of ecstasy with him until all you knew were his body and his scent and the clasping of his be-ringed hand in yours.

It was all he had ever wanted.

#attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirsten x reader #jean x reader #did i spend today writing smut for a 2D man? #yes #yes i did #dividers by the magnificent firefly graphics! #🪄— milky writes #‼️ — spoilers #💓 — thump

[safe-by-dawn]

Hi! I loved the Toby headcanons you wrote! Can we please get a yandere nsfw Ticci Toby x reader?

~Possession~

Yandere!Ticci Toby/Toby Rogers x SlightlyDeranged!Reader (Smut)

Requests are currently open!

MDNI!

My first request! I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I had a lot of fun writing them and I can't wait to get some time to write for some more Pastas! I got some good ideas up my sleeve.

Also I made the reader super into the fact that Toby fucks up anybody that even gets near his s/o, so if you were thinking of a more innocent/scared reader just send me another ask but but honestly anybody that gets with Toby better be into that because he's gonna burn cities for his s/o.

I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I did writing it!

WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Murder, Public Sex.

Let me know if I should add anything to the warnings! I try my best to add what I think is necessary but sometimes I can't tell when something should be included.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His hand was on your thigh, squeezing the flesh there and it was enough to make your heart drop for the poor man that had taken up residence next to you at the bar. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into. He didn’t know that the small touch that still lingered on your thigh would be his one way ticket to an early demise.

He didn’t know that the other man beside you practically owned you at this point, and he surely didn’t know that you took some sick, demented enjoyment out of watching the way he gets when he’s jealous. It’s lethal.

“Won’t you come home with me, darling?” The words are slurred, barely even there when he leans towards your ear.

You can practically feel Toby stiffen beside you, radiating anger in such a way that it seeps into your clothes and fuses into your bones leaving a sweet, delicious ache in the pit of your stomach. He’s a good fuck normally, but the switch that flips when he gets jealous is unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

“I suggest you take your hand off me,” Your eyes finally meet his, a coy smile playing at your lips, “If you want to make it through the night, that is.”

Your hand moves to push the man’s off your thigh, but he keeps your flesh in a vice-grip as he speaks, “Feisty, I love that in a woman.”

You can’t help the small giggle that pulls its way out of your throat as you feel Toby finally move. You don’t know how he’s held back for this long. You know the jealousy is burning in him, and his eyes are on the two of you. You don’t even have to look over at him to know it. Toby’s own hand finally shoots out and in one swift motion, grabs the man's fingers and twists, pushing them towards him and you hear the sickly snap before you see the way his fingers are now bent, definitely broken.

He might have a chance if he stops now, but now you have anger on both sides of you, and you just know it won’t end here. You know Toby has no reason to hold back, and he won’t. He doesn’t know how. Not anymore.

“Fuckin’ bitch.” The man pushes out of his seat, moving towards the man that just snapped his fingers.

The bar stool scratches heavily against the wood floor as Toby finally stands, gripping onto the man's collar and practically dragging him out of the dingy dive bar. They’re out of the door before you can even stand, and you take a moment to fish an almost empty pack of cigarettes out of your pocket, pulling one out and lighting it before reaching for the money you kept in the back pocket of your jeans.

It’s at least a hundred but you don’t count it before throwing it down. Call it payment for damages for when someone finally finds that sour fucker’s body the next morning.

You pull a drag from your cigarette as you move to get up, your own bar stool screeching into the air and you finally allow yourself to look to the only duo that rests in the corner of the bar and giving them a small smile. Their eyes pull quickly away from yours and you finally make your way outside into the just as disgusting night air that surrounds the establishment.

You can hear him before you see him. The labored grunts of him most likely already crushing the man’s head in is just around the corner, leading into the dark alleyway, and the fact that you can only hear Toby is a sure sign that he’s almost done with the man. His life’s probably gone, but Toby has so much anger stored in his body from that interaction that he might be there for a moment before he feels like he’s finally finished with him.

The scene you walk into is much worse than you expected, and some part of you is glad that it’s dark. The wall behind them is a disgusting inky color that you can only guess is blood. Some broken bones, arms contorted in a way that makes your stomach turn, even after getting comfortable with seeing what kind of aftermath Toby can leave behind, it’s a little bit much.

Toby has his hands splayed onto the brick of the wall, holding himself stable as his foot sinks another kick into the limp leftovers of the man on the ground. Once you finally make it closer to him you can hear him whispering, voice coming out in a low growl that sets your skin on fire.

Mine, she’s mine.

You let your hands rest on his back, pushing to wrap around him, hands coming to rest just under his shirt on his bare stomach. You let your thumbs toy at the waistband before gripping onto it, and it usually serves to pull Toby back to the real world. Tugging him out of his thoughts proves to be a little harder tonight, but his hand comes to rest on one of yours before he lets the man have one more kick before pushing himself off of the wall and turning his face towards you.

It’s splattered with dark red, and if you hadn’t known him, you would think it was his own, but you know the man doesn’t have a single scratch on him. You pull your hand from his waistband to tug the cigarette out of your mouth after taking a long draw, moving it to Toby’s mouth and pressing the butt of it to his lips. He pulls his own draw off of it before you toss it to the ground, not worrying about stomping it out. You wouldn’t have time even if you had wanted to.

Toby’s lips crash hard against your own after he exhales the smoke, and you drink him in like you’ve been thirsting your whole life and he’s the water you’ve fought so hard to finally reach. Your teeth hit his in the mess of a kiss, and you’re sure he’s drawn blood when he finally bites at your bottom lip.

“You’re fucking mine.” His voice comes out with a growl of arousal and over-exhaustion, and it only serves to push you closer to the brink and his hands aren’t even on you yet. His usual stutter is nowhere to be found, lost in the clouded haze of anger and post-murder. His mind’s only on one thing and it’s you. All of it is you.

“All yours.”

You can barely get the words out before he’s pushing and pulling, pressing your back hard against the other side of the alleyway and his mouth finds its way to your throat. He bites hard, no doubt leaving a bruise already forming. You can feel him all around you, hands all over your body, pulling at your clothes and undoing the button on your jeans. He pushes them down quickly, and the way the night air presses heavily into your form is the only thing to remind you that you’re still outside.

Anybody could see you, anybody could see what he’s done, and anybody can see the mess he’s about to make of you. It sends a delicious chill up your spine. His lips press against yours once more before he’s pulling away and pressing your face into the brick of the building, no doubt scratching you up a bit, but it’s worth it. It’ll all be worth it as long as he takes you right here. You’re far enough in the dark that as long as nobody follows the sounds pouring from your mouth then you’ll be just fine.

His mouth lands on your shoulder and even through the fabric, the weight of his bite tears a shriek out of you. “Keep making those sounds for me.” His voice filters into your ears, and you can’t help but push back into him. The thin fabric of your panties does little to keep the denim of his jeans from rubbing you deliciously, and you can feel every inch of him through his jeans. You’re practically drooling at this point and he knows it.

“You’re fucking sick, y’know that?” He speaks before he presses a smaller bite into your earlobe and his hand finally pulls your panties down to meet where your jeans rest at the bottom of your thighs. “You do this on purpose, don’t you?” His scarred fingers finally press against your slit, pushing just enough to feel how wet you are, but not giving you what you wanted just yet.

You can only nod, words not able to form in the knot he has tied in your throat.

“You get off on me killing for you,” He laughs then, absolutely deranged, exactly how you like him. “You’re- You’re just like me.”

His fingers finally circle your clit, pulling some of the pent-up arousal out of you in the form of a moan and the words finally slip out of you, “Jus’ like you, Toby, Fuck.” You huff as his fingers work you, pulling you closer to your edge and you can feel him trying to undo his pants with one hand and your mouth waters at the thought of him finally filling you up.

“You love me?” He asks, he always asks and you always answer.

“Only you, Toby.”

He leaves another bite on your shoulder as he pulls himself out of his pants, resting against your ass and never slowing his hand on your cunt as he says his next words, “Then cum for me, baby.” It comes out as a whine, begging, delicious, and twisting your insides.

It pushes you so close, almost to the edge. As he finally slips into you, you tumble, falling over the edge as his hips finally snap into you. He fucks you through it, as words fall out of your mouth in an incoherent mess and you can only hear him chuckle behind you. You can only feel his hands on you as he finally pulls off of your sensitive clit to grip heavily onto your hips. All you can do is brace yourself as he fucks into you, chasing his own high.

His grunts fill the Alley, and the way he growls sets you on fire as your body tries to come down from its high. He doesn’t let it though, cock pressing hard into your sweet spot with each thrust. His hips hit against you with a bruising weight as he fills you to the brim with every bit of him, every inch stretches you out deliciously. You can feel it coming again, can feel the tight coil in your abdomen get worse with every thrust.

He finally snaps his hips and keeps them pressed against you and him cumming inside of you pulls you over the edge for a second time like a noose tied around a rock and your neck and he just threw it into the ocean.

You both come undone and your cunt milks him for everything he’s worth. His growls fill the air around you as he ruts against you, thrusting another time before he pulls out of you. Your mixed fluids leak out the smallest bit before he’s pulling your clothes up and buttoning your jeans for you. He lands a light smack to your ass before he’s finally fixing himself and his hand finds purchase in your hair to finally pull you off the wall and into him.

His thumb presses heavily into your cheek, smearing the blood from the scratches the dirty brick gave you before he presses it into his tongue. He’s fucking deranged, but you’d be lying through your teeth if you didn’t admit you were just as fucked up as he was.

#i wanna write something a bit more graphic but ill save that for another day #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x reader #fanfic #toby rogers x reader #ticci toby x reader smut #toby rogers #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby