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qwimchii · 7 months

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𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 (𝘱𝘵 2) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘤 — 3k

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵(?)

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘥𝘰𝘮-𝘪𝘴𝘩!𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘷, 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘮𝘴, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢, 𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘺 & 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 😵‍💫

note: not proofread... pls excuse any shitty grammar 🥲

pt 1, pt 3

Simon held you to his promises. he held pinned your leg up while he fucked you through another earth splitting orgasm on his fingers, long and thick and stretching you with a careful practiced hand. prying your thighs wide open with a tight grip, warm strong chest right at your back and his deep voice in your ear.

“like this, luvie? still want more?”

when you had whined, rolling your hips down onto the curl of his big fingers, he had praised you. praise, praise, praise—you couldn’t get enough of the sweet words he whispered against the shell of your ear, lips warm and soft.

“good girl. so, so good. c’mon, i need to see you cum, pretty girl.”

in reply, you had raked your hand over the muscle of his forearms, drinking in the sight of his full sleeve of dark ink with a heady greediness as you keened and whined his name.

then, when you soaked his hand in a thick ooze of your juices, he had sucked them off his own hand like they were the sweetest thing in the world.

“where do you wanna be when i fuck you, baby?” he asked with a mouthful of fingers, voice rough but sweet all at once.

“under you,” you whispered weakly, letting him manhandle you into the blankets, legs lolled out as he pushed them up and all pliant from the double orgasmic bliss hanging over you like a hazy cloud.

he leaned down to swirl his tongue around your sensitive nipples till your hands were in his hair, begging and pleading for more.

you watched him slide off the bed, dark gaze still on you as he unbuckled his belt, nothing in the room but your shallow breath and the metal clicks and rustles as he kicked off his pants, prowling back onto the bed with a tight looking pair of boxers that were stained with a dark patch around his strained cock.

impatient, you hooked a thumb into the waist of them but he pinned your hand above your head with a low grunted warning, stooping down to run his nose over the skin of your collarbones and neck, licking over your skin.

“eager?”

you nodded quickly, spreading your thighs a bit wider for him as he nestled between your legs, impatience only growing when he kept sucking at your neck and jaw.

finally, after what felt like forever, he shifted back, admiring the spit and slick over your skin and the light pink marks over your collarbones before pushing down his boxers, thick and veiny cock springing up against his stomach.

you moaned softly at the sight, resisting the urge to paw at the aching tension between your thighs. he kicked his boxers off somewhere so that they landed on the floor and then he leaned over you, knuckles braced against the bed beside your head.

“ready, baby?” he asked, low and throaty as he picked up a hand to cup your cheek softly, rubbing his thumb over your lips before hooking it inside so that it pressed firmly against your tongue.

you could only hum, wrapping your lips around his thumb and sucking on it, satisfied when you drew a gentle groan from the back of Simon’s throat.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he rasped, reaching down to pump his cock a couple times before lining up against your entrance.

after a bated breath, you felt a familiar, pleasurable stretch, back arching at the sensation as he pushed the leaking head of his cock in slowly, grip tight on your hips and his breath shallow.

once he was seated fully inside, pushing your thighs up so you could hook them around your waist, hips flush to your ass, he leaned down to pepper more kisses over your chest and tits as he ground into your heat.

you whined, hands snaking into his hair and pulling.

“move please,” you squeaked, eyes pricking with tears at how delicious the head of his cock felt rubbing against that sweet spot inside you, how sensitive you were after two orgasms.

“patience, baby,” he whispered, nose brushing over your own and black pupils blow-wide gazing down at you, blonde lashes looking long and full in the dim light.

you crept your fingers to the base of his head, pushing him down to your lips, humming when he easily complied. his lips enveloped your own, soft, warm, and wet when his tongue slid along yours. you would’ve got lost in it if he didn’t lift his hips and roll them back down, sliding against the gummy, textured walls of your cunt.

the movement left you breathless and wanting, fingers tracing from his hair to his muscled, broad shoulders as you dug your nails into the flesh. he practically growled into your mouth, fucking you with a slow, sensual intensity that left you squirming beneath him.

the dark hair littered along his navel brushed over your clit when every thrust, and his lips trailed down to clasp onto your swollen nipples, pinning you down to the bed with his large hands wrapped around your forearms. pinning down so you couldn’t do anything but squirm.

“what a perfect little pussy,” he grunted against your skin, the blatant praise making your face heat up. “finally got you exactly where i want you.”

the words were so hushed that you almost missed them, but the sparking ache deep in your tummy clutched onto his words, a spasm going through your core at the prospect that Simon had you trapped exactly where he wanted you—squirming beneath him, unable to move, unable to do anything as you just took every inch of his big cock.

“just take it, pretty,” he whispered into your ear, and you whined, bucking your hips up in time with his own thrusts so the hair at his naval rubbed against your clit harder.

“Simon,” you warned, shocked at the pleasure rippling through you.

his shifted, towering above you as he fucked you just a bit faster, those deep, rolling, slow thrusts pushing you closer and closer to a chasmic edge. the pinched look of concentration on his face—intense and clouding his eyes, jaw clenched and sharp in the dim light—sent another spasm through you.

“gonna cum on my cock?” he asked in a heady, rough tone. there was a ghost of a smirk gracing his lips that twisted the heat in your tummy harder.

“mhmm,” you squeaked, squirming in his immovable grasp.

“s’okay,” he whispered, leaning down to peck your forehead. “you can do it. let go for me, baby.”

the twitchy ache of your clit was brushing against his naval and the way he was fucking you so slow and sensual and not even chasing his own pleasure and leaving you a writhing, overstimulated mess beneath him—

you came all over his cock, spasming tight around him as you moaned out, breathy and whiny as he fucked you through it, murmuring sweet little praises in your ear as a dreamy white haze blanketed your mind.

you were lost in the sheets, body leaden and soft as you sunk down into the mattress, barely registering his gentle touch against your skin until the rough pads of his fingers were rubbing against your clit.

you jolted up with a gasp, snatching his wrist to push his hand away, overstimulated and oversensitive and—

“alright, sweet thing?” he asked softly, kissing your cheek.

you whined, pushing at his hand, but he was just so much stronger than you. “Simon, please—”

“shh,” he hushed, slowly pulling out of you without a warning, a raw gasp torn from your throat.

you felt empty and cold without the warmth of him as he sat back, a thin sheen of sweat making the muscles of his stomach gleam in the low light. you looked further down, seeing a creamy white coating over his swollen cock, flushed tip leaking pearls of precum.

whimpering, you crawled forward as best as your limp body could move, eyes darting to his as your lips parted, tongue swiping along your lower lip as a silent offering to take your mouth as well.

but he just pushed you back to the bed, rolling you so your cheek was pressed to the mattress, hands braced against the bed as he arched your ass up just a little so your tummy was still against the sheets.

“how does this feel?” he whispered, and you shivered when you felt a finger trace down your spine, stopping just above your ass.

“good,” you whimpered, craning your neck to look at him from over your shoulder.

the look on his face was insatiable. almost unrecognizable as he stared at you in the position, muttering a low curse and then something like pretty as he swung a leg over the back of your thighs, cock pushing up right between your asscheeks.

you whined, reaching back to grip at his meaty thigh, willing him to move—to do something even if your body was still twitched with sensitivity.

“you sure?” he asked, smoothing a hand over your ass and cupping it lightly before squeezing.

you yelped, jolting forward, but his weight on the back of your thighs caged you down to the mattress.

“think you can cum again?” he pressed on, groping your ass now.

you nodded against the sheets.

“words, luvie.”

“yes,” you whispered, nose wrinkling up with embarrassment. he leaned down to kiss your shoulder. you felt the sticky tip of his cock press against the tight rim of your swollen cunt.

“still gonna bake me those brownies if you do?”

he slowly pushed in, your little laugh cleaved by a pitched whine as you pressed back against him so he bottomed out with a wet smack against your ass.

“hm?” his pinched the fat of your ass gently and you squirmed.

“yeah, anything,” you gasped against the sheets, wanting him to just move already.

“anythin’?” he probed, sounding almost bored as he continued to just massage your ass.

you were about to send him a confused look over your shoulder when there was a light smack and an acute sting in your asscheek, ripping a loud moan from your throat. the sting turned into tingles of pleasure.

“Simon?” you gasped, feeling high and delirious when his hips pulled back and snapped into your ass, his grip on the flesh borderline possessive as he started fucking you. faster now. rougher than before.

“what is it, baby?” he asked, voice deceptively soft and even when he smacked your ass again, lighter this time, almost affectionate as the sting dispersed over your body in a shower of tingles, pricking heavy tears up in your eyes.

“s’good,” you admitted, the tears spilling from your eyes when you jolted as another smack came down on your other asscheek.

“yeah?” his voice was breathy—less even when it was pressed right against your ear.

you searched behind your shoulder for him, making contact with the soft skin of his shoulder and something mottled beneath your fingertips, a scar perhaps, when he caught your wrists and pressed them beside your head. he pinned you beneath him as he fucked you down into the mattress, your swollen clit brushing against the sheets with every thrust.

“your ex fuck you this good, sweet thing?” his tone was throaty, aggressive, bordering on something dangerous and lustful and possessive. it sent your mind reeling.

“never,” you admitted, more tears spilling from your eyes when your eyelids drooped shut, just taking his rough fucking like the good girl you were and loving every second of it.

“ever since i first saw you,” he rasped, breath shallow and fast as his hips slammed into your ass, “wanted to fuck this sweet pussy.”

a raw moan was ripped from your throat, your cunt throbbing around his thick length stretching you wide open.

“bakin’ me sweet things. such a sweet girl. donating to vets n’shit. fuck.”

that spongy spot deep within you throbbed with a wild, pulsing need.

“my own soft ‘nd pretty little housewife.”

at that, the tight coil in your tummy snapped and you were coming around his length, your fourth orgasm tearing through you like a blazing wildfire, sweeping you away somewhere delicious and sweet and distant. you were faintly aware of the tears staining your cheeks and his soft whispers in your ear.

“such a good girl. my good girl. mine.”

shaking with overstimulation, his rough thrusts suddenly overwhelmed you, twitchy clit brushing against the mattress stringing you through razor sharp sensations. little whines and whimpers falling from your mouth, he gently shushed you, reaching down with a strong arm to bind around your waist, pulling your hips up from the mattress as he continued to rut into you.

“shh, shh, s'okay. you can take it.”

and you could. wanted to, for the first time in a long time. wanted to please him not just for him but to please yourself—because his pleasure melded into your own and it was submerging you into overwhelming waves of pleasure, half-begging him to just fill you up already.

“please Simon,” you gasped, feeling him smile against the nape of your neck.

you jolted when his arm bound around your waist snuck down, fingers rubbing at your clit as he grunted in your ear, blurring into slurred groans as he reeled closer to an edge. just the sound of him so close and needy and desperate for it had you coming all over again, ripping you through an orgasm that you didn’t even know you were approaching.

soon after, he was spilling into you with a low tortured groan, face pressed into your neck as a slimy, hot liquid rushed into your womb. it filled you, leaving you full and satiated when he collapsed to the bed, practically crushing you beneath him as you both fought to catch your breaths.

after some more silent moments in the dark, you felt Simon’s hand stroking at your hair, returning soft and sweet just as he had been at the start of the night.

“gonna pull out now,” he warned, and you just nodded, feeling sleepy as he clambered to his hands, sliding out his softening cock inch by inch until you were empty, save for the gooey mix of cum and saliva and ooze between your thighs.

you didn’t bother to move, just laid limp against the bed as you heard him moving around behind you, grabbing something from your nightstand as he gently lifted your leg.

a tissue, you realized, as he wiped your skin free of most slimy debris.

“alright, luvie?”

you nodded. his warm hands were at your back, smoothing over your back and sore ass before he was gently turning you over to your side. you met eyes with him from where he sat at the edge of the bed, gaze dark and softened in the dim light.

“you sure?” he probed, thumbing over your tear stained cheek.

“yeah,” you croaked, lazily lifting a hand to touch his back, broad and adorned with a few scars before you.

you ran your fingers over a textured one, fingertips tracing lower. you gasped when you spotted a green and yellow mottled bruise over his lower back. about the size of a peach. you ran your fingers over it.

eyes flitting up to his in question, he twisted around, clambering into bed beside you.

he pulled you flush into his bigger, muscled form that easily swallowed you up, warm and strong and the steady swell of his chest right by your ear.

“compliments of the job,” he explained.

his fingertips spidered over your throat and down to your sore breasts.

“will you be leaving again soon?” you asked, craning your head to look up at him.

he stared at you for a long moment. “not for two weeks.”

you nodded. two weeks was all you would need.

“stay with me,” you offered, voice soft and open. you could only hope it didn’t sound half as desperate as you felt.

his brows rose slightly. “m’only just across the hall.”

at that, you blushed, feeling sheepish as you gazed up at him. “i just mean that…”

you didn’t know what to say. what you said was exactly what you meant. and looking up into his strong, honest gaze, you couldn’t force your way through a bluff.

“i’ll bake for you every day,” you promised, biting down a smile when he grinned, wide and sort of wolfish.

he leaned down, crushing you to his chest as he peppered kisses across your cheek.

“in that case…” he whispered, low and sultry by your ear as his other hand ducked down to your naval, creeping closer to your cunt.

with a choked guffaw, you squirmed away from him, relishing in the way he laughed—silent and suppressed. but looking over at the way his shoulders shook, hiding his face behind a palm pressed to his eyes, it was laughter nonetheless.

“don’t start, Riley,” you chided him, weaseling your way beneath the covers and turning so your back was to him.

“no first name basis?” you could feel him prod at your shoulder.

“maybe if you sleep with me,” you said, letting your eyes close.

he slid into the blankets behind you, curling a strong arm around your waist—the inked one, you noticed with a quiet giddiness—and tugging so that you were against his bare chest. his sigh, low and rumbled, spread a tingle through your back.

“no brownies either?” he asked, sleepy and raspy by your ear.

you hummed. “in the morning.”

with a gentle grip, he turned your chin so that you could see his face. just one of his eyes was cracked open, peering down at you and then your lips. you craned up to kiss him, soft and sweet and slow. so slow it felt like you were melting. so slow your heart was bursting with warmth.

“in the morning,” he confirmed against your lips, laxing back down to the bed and curling around you—a strong, protective force at your back that coaxed you into a sweet sleep, his soft breath by your ear, and even sweeter words on his tongue.

“i missed you, sweet thing.”

taglist: @ivybeeloved @rayamaya

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost smut #ghost angst #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst

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andypantsx3 · 24 days

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𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother, steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 5.7k | chapter 1 of 4

Then

It was a freezing day in spring the first time you set foot in the Todoroki house.

You had shared a class with Touya for years now, and in that time you’d become something of his best friend. You’d bonded early over a mutual hatred of fish and your status as the two best tree climbers on the playground—two integral friendship quality bars if ever you’d met them—and your entente had strengthened over the following months.

After enough time together Touya had even seemed to like you, seeking out your opinion, deploying you like a shield between himself and the other kids. He wanted to be paired with you for group projects constantly, as he seemed to disdain the ability of the other kids in your class.

He eventually acquiesced to two other friends—Rumi and Keigo—as Keigo was a really fast runner, and Rumi could kick a kid almost clear across a playground. But the two of you remained particularly close, and a few years in, Touya had seemed to want to check the final box of your friendship.

That was the day he’d haughtily informed you that you were coming home with him.

You’d phoned your mother from the school office to obtain permission, and then pulled your jacket on to follow Touya out into the cold, his skinny legs beating a quick path through the streets.

You’d half-expected that Touya lived in a box behind a shop, with the way he descended ravenously on his lunches (as well as yours, and Rumi’s, when he could occasionally get them—though notably not Keigo’s, something that had only retroactively made sense to you as an adult). But the house Touya steered you to was enormous—easily the biggest house you’d ever seen—a stately pile at the end of a fancy neighborhood.

You’d later learn this was because his father was the mayor, and the Todorokis were neck-deep in generational wealth. At the time you’d been mildly annoyed, because what had you let him eat part of your lunches for if he lived in a house like this?

“I’m home,” Touya had called into the echoey foyer, grand but strangely barren. He’d kicked off his coat and shoes, discarding them carelessly—perhaps purposefully—on the floor, then gestured for you to follow him into the kitchen as a warm voice called out to him. “Welcome home, Touya.”

“I brought Y/N,” he announced grandly as he prowled into the room. To you he said, “This is my mother, Rei.”

The voice you’d heard resolved itself into a woman, tall, with beautiful long white hair and a small, but unmistakably fond smile on her mouth. You startled, immediately floored by her beauty. She looked just like Touya, the same delicate prettiness to her mouth, the shape of her eyes—but even lovelier. She looked simultaneously like she belonged on the cover of a magazine, and would be embarrassed by one saying so.

She also smelled like an omega—sweet, but a little wilder than you were used to. Like spring flowers blooming on a cold day.

“Hello Y/N,” she said warmly, turning to you. You gave a shy wave back, suddenly nervous in front of her.

As she turned you finally noticed the child on her hip—a small, round, pudgy little thing with half red and half white hair, and two mismatched grey and blue eyes that pinned on you immediately. It was wearing a horrendous polkadot onesie, and you felt your eyebrows raise without your permission.

“That’s Shouto,” Touya informed you, and the pieces slotted together in your brain. Ah, so that was the face to the name.

Shouto was the little brother Touya complained about incessantly—the one that was his father’s favorite, the one that stared too much and wanted to play with all of Touya’s toys even though he was too little for them, the one Touya was saddled with babysitting constantly. He’d made Shouto out to be this sort of tiny harbinger of evil—but Shouto did not look very evil, perched there on his mother’s hip.

He blinked at you, a flutter of surprisingly long eyelashes, for a baby. You had the thought that actually he was kind of cute. Most probably not a harbinger of evil, and actually very sweet-looking, if weirdly round.

“I need to be excused from Shouto duty,” Touya said, the question posed more like a statement.

Rei shook her head, a somber little smile playing about her mouth. “I have to make dinner before Fuyumi and Natsuo get back from their playdates and your father gets home. Why don’t you take Shouto to play with you and Y/N?”

Touya rolled his eyes in the long-suffering manner of a man who’d endured it all. Shouto didn’t seem to notice, however, his mismatched gaze barely detaching from your face. You noticed Shouto’s left eye was the exact vivid blue of Touya’s, and his other eye the same silver as his mother’s.

“He’s staring like a weirdo,” Touya complained, but collected Shouto from Rei anyway. Shouto let himself be passed over as placidly as a bag of potatoes, still watching you.

“Y/N is a new face for him, he’s just curious, Touya,” Rei said, smoothing Shouto’s hair down as Touya hefted him in his arms. Shouto reached out a hand towards you, fat fingers flexing.

“What, you think I’m some taxi service who’s gonna bring you wherever you want to go?” Touya demanded. Shouto ignored him, his little chubby arm wavering.

Strangely, something compelled you to step closer, reaching out a hand in return. Shouto seized it in his pudgy little fist, staring up at you with solemn eyes. His other hand reached out to you, too, twisting in Touya’s grip, and Touya let out an annoyed scoff.

“Y/N didn’t come here to hang out with you,” he said. But Shouto ignored him, his little hand fisting in your tee shirt. He seemed to be trying to lever himself up out of Touya’s arms and into yours.

You were startled, never having held a baby before, and Shouto was kind of a big one. But Touya showed you how to hold him under his butt and across his back, and you heard the rustle of his diaper as he was handed off to you.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, watching him watch you.

His eyebrows raised, some small happiness lighting up his expression, and he gave a little kick that wiggled his whole body in your arms.

“He likes you,” Rei said over the counter top, as she settled a cutting board and a pile of vegetables across it.

You looked back at Shouto, feeling weirdly pleased. Maybe babies weren’t that bad.

Touya made an annoyed sort of grunt, stomping past you. “We’re going to play in the living room,” he announced imperiously. You glanced at Rei to make sure that was okay, then followed Touya, Shouto heavy in your arms.

By the time you arrived, Shouto had settled a hand on either of your cheeks and seemed to be trying to stare directly into your soul, and Touya patted him firmly on the back, clucking. “Stop being such a little freak.”

“He’s fine,” you said, bemused. No one had told you really little kids were this intense and weird. But Shouto’s little round face was kind of sweet, and it was hard to be annoyed at a baby staring up at you, that clearly enamored.

“Actually he’s being way nicer to me than you,” you told Touya.

Touya rolled his eyes and busied himself pulling out a horde of action figures, legos, puzzles, and games, as well as a turtle with multi-colored blocks set into it that appeared to be for Shouto.

“Oi, it’s turtle time, weirdo,” he told Shouto.

That seemed to break the baby’s singular focus on you, and he peered around, lighting up nearly the same way when he saw his blocks as he had when he’d seen you. You laughed, and helped him settle on the floor next to you, watching his clumsy, chubby grip fumble on the blocks as he carefully removed them one-by-one from the plastic turtle.

Touya set up the legos around you, an older parallel of his brother, though you thought he would kill you for saying so.

A block appeared in your lap, carefully and deliberately placed by a fat-fingered hand. You smiled down at Shouto, picking it up and gesturing grandly. “For me?”

A grey-and-blue gaze attached itself solemnly to your face, as if awaiting your judgment, and an instant fondness swept over you. Who knew babies could be this cute—when they weren’t screaming and crying and generally being small and annoying near you. Touya had massively undersold his little brother, who was the sweetest baby you’d ever encountered.

You bowed your head, clutching your gifted block close to you. “Thank you, Shouto. It’s very nice.”

Shouto stared up at you, smiling a shy little almost-smile, clearly pleased. You couldn’t help but reach up and ruffle that distinct tuft of hair, taken with him already. Yep, definitely a good little kid.

And you decided then and there that you liked Todoroki Shouto—though for now he was a child—you both were children—and he could only mean so much to you.

You wouldn’t realize how much he’d actually come to mean to you, until many, many years later.

Now

Touya’s white mess of hair was the first thing you spotted as you stumbled into the restaurant.

Outside it was unseasonably cold, an icy wind tearing through you as you’d rushed all the way from your mother’s house. The inside of the restaurant was blessedly warm, and slightly smoky from the meat and vegetables grilling away on each table top. Touya was on the far side, and you could see Rumi’s white hair beyond him, Keigo’s blonde riot of waves peeking over the top of the booth next to him.

Rumi faced the door so she spotted you first, a mouth-splitting grin overtaking her face as she waved you down.

You hurried your way over, letting out a surprised hrrk! when Rumi drew you down into a rib-crushing hug, her alpha strength barely contained. You fell into the seat at an awkward angle, your joints screaming.

“Well look what the cat dragged in! You don’t look a bit changed, you little beta cuck,” she crowed, making you choke on a laugh as you almost inhaled a mouthful of her hair.

“Rumi—!” you sputtered, half-pleased and half-scandalized that she clearly hadn’t changed in the years since you’d seen her last. She crushed you to her harder, and you could feel your eyeballs all but bulging like a rubber doll.

“If you plan to crush her to death you could at least wait until I clear the scene,” came Touya’s disaffected drawl from the other side of the table. “The last thing I need is police on my case again.”

That was so typical of him, too, after all this time.

“Good to see you too, Touya,” you said, even though you couldn’t get a look at him through Rumi’s hair. She ground her knuckles into the top of your head for good measure before releasing you, and you came up for air gratefully, watching the two men on the other side of the table grin at you.

Keigo looked exactly as you’d left him, a little bit more filled out than the skinny teen he’d been, the same wiry facial scruff growing in, those golden eyes alight with typical playfulness. Touya looked like he’d aged the most, his scars—fresher when you’d graduated—now deepened to the color of dark bruises. His features were still achingly familiar under them, however, the fine-boned prettiness of his mother shining through, his father’s blazing cerulean eyes the only nod to the other half of his parentage.

“So you really obeyed mommy dearest huh,” Touya said, pinning you with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him. As your closest childhood friend, he still knew all your weak spots, your mother the biggest of them. Growing up she’d been lonely and overworked, and you’d tried to care for her and please her the best you could. You still called her several times a week and sent back your wages to help pay for the house, and pay down the pile of debt your father had left her in when he’d died.

The concession of returning home for a few days to attend the annual mating run, as pointless as it was going to be, was the least you could do for her.

“You know as well as I do that no one is going to run down a beta,” you said, settling yourself in next to Rumi and shedding your coat and hat. “Especially not now that I’m well past newly-presented. It’ll be like a vacation.”

“You never know,” Keigo said, raising his fluffy eyebrows at you, his grin wicked. You flung the pile of your things across the table at him, but he intercepted easily, all alpha reflex. He stuffed your jacket down next to him, laughing at you.

“I do know,” you said emphatically. “And I’m not fussed about it. I don’t know who she thinks is going to pay her bills if I’m off getting dicked down by some knothead idiot.”

Touya made a dismissive noise and you looked around the table for something to fling at him too. He’d never had to worry about money, his future shored up with the Todoroki family fortune, built over generations and then basically quadrupled by his father. Since coming out of the correctional facility for a string of petty crimes, Touya had been skating by on family generosity, and you knew he wasn’t about to stop.

“Just burn her house down like mine,” he said, an unholy grin overtaking his face as he leaned forward. There was a light behind his eyes like he wasn’t entirely kidding. No one had ever been able to determine if the Todoroki family fire had been an accident or not, although Touya claimed it had been.

But you’d known Touya your whole life and you had your suspicions. Touya had hated his father for nearly all of your living memory—and the Todoroki men had an almost disturbing single-mindedness about them. You had long wondered if Touya’s fixation on his break with Enji had ever played into the fire that ravaged their house during your middle school years.

The one exception to the Todoroki single-mindedness was sweet little Shouto, who you’d last seen at your high school graduation. He was several years younger than you and had still been round-faced and chubby-cheeked then, all wide solemn eyes and pouty little mouth, just like when he was a baby.

You hadn’t seen him since, but couldn’t imagine Shouto turning out anything like Touya.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” you said to Touya, not liking how his grin widened.

Purportedly he’d come out of the correctional facility for good behavior, his record squeaky clean.

Purportedly.

“So why even agree to the run?” Rumi asked. “If you’re not looking to actually take anyone home?”

You helped yourself to the water that had been laid out before answering. “It’s just easier to appease my mother. She gets what she wants—some indication I’m open to my life mate-–and I get what I want, which is to be able to use this as an excuse next year.”

“Aww you won’t come back to see little old us?” Keigo asked. His tone was wheedling but his eyes tracked your expression carefully, always observing.

You smiled at him. You did miss your old friends, and you liked how easy it felt to sink right back into them after so many years away. You wanted to see them outside of the confines of a group chat or the rare facetime.

And you missed a lot about the town you’d grown up in. You liked the tiny storefronts of the downtown shops and the easy access to the coast and miles of hiking trails. You’d had a dream of opening up a little bookstore in one of the lovely brick buildings downtown when you were younger—but that was back before the staggering number of dollar signs on your mother’s bills had made themselves known to you and the romance of your daydream had begun to seem more like foolishness.

The bigger cities offered the bigger jobs, the bigger wages to send home. Even if it meant you could only see your friends every few years and mostly kept in touch via group chat.

“How about you guys come to me?” you asked. “There’s a chicken place I think Keigo will want to make the trip for.”

Keigo’s grin widened and he leaned in, interested. “Say no more,” he drawled.

On the table top, Touya’s phone vibrated. He peered at it, dismissing the notification with a swipe. “Rei wants to see you,” he reported, the usual blend of disrespect and unwilling fondness for his own mother layered in his voice. “She says you should come by the house.”

You smiled, pleased to be remembered. “I’d love that. Who’s living there now?”

Touya stretched, his back brushing the booth. “I do. And she does. Enji visits sometimes—” his tone was pointedly colorless “—and Fuyumi and Natsuo come by a couple times a week. Shouto is there almost daily for dinner when he’s not on shift, because his own cooking is absolute shit.”

You blinked, struggling to reconcile the idea of sweet-faced little Shouto with an adult who lived on his own now. “On shift?” you asked.

“He’s a fireman,” Touya rolled his eyes. “Little fucking do gooder. Ever since the house fire he’s wanted to.”

Your eyelashes fluttered again, your brain floating with the images of skinny, round-faced Shouto struggling to haul people out of a burning building. You struggled not to voice this disbelief.

“Wow, good for him,” you said.

“Not for me,” Touya complained. “Ever since he’s presented he’s been eating us out of house and home. Can’t find a fucking thing in the cabinets after he’s been through—”

And that shocked you, too, the idea that Shouto was already grown enough to have presented.

Objectively you knew he had to be into his early twenties at this point, but hearing the changes life had wrought on him was almost too much to contemplate. You wondered what he had presented as, and whether he’d be subject to the run this week as well. You’d always sort of suspected he’d be an omega, with that wide-eyed, beautiful face—almost a carbon copy of his mother’s, the same delicate prettiness in it as Touya.

And he’d been so sweet, too. When you’d been much, much younger—before Touya had become too cool and too emo for it—you remembered playing house together, remembered how often you’d dragged Shouto in to play the part of your son. He’d always sat there, a chubby-faced toddler, smashing blocks together and staring up at you with big eyes as you and Touya made plastic food and Touya unrolled a days-old newspaper collected from his father, bossing you around from his armchair.

Even when Shouto had gotten older and started to get as fresh with Touya as Touya was with him, he’d always been nice to you, always watched you with those same wide, mismatched eyes.

Yeah. He was most probably an omega.

“Well I’d love to see Rei, and Natsuo and Fuyumi and Shouto,” you said.

Touya stretched in the booth, not minding Keigo and thumping him right across the chest. Keigo squawked in annoyance.

“I’ll tell Rei you’re coming for dinner,” Touya said.

You smiled, pleased. You knew what a huge deal it was for both Touya and Rei to be in the same house again—both in recovery, both sharing the same space again.

When you’d left, Rei had been hospitalized and Touya had already been knee deep in petty crimes and utterly disinterested in any sort of overtures of help. For them to both be together again, getting regular help, with Enji out of the house and a rotating string of their family members checking in on them—you were happy to see them healing.

The buoyant feeling lasted all the way through lunch and too many drinks, until Touya shepherded you out of the restaurant, blazing a familiar path towards his family home. You followed, gratified when you saw that the Todoroki house was just as you remembered it, even the rebuilt pieces nostalgic.

Its grandness had been a shock to you as a child—not only in comparison to the tiny, squashed little two bed you’d grown up in—but that Touya had grown up there, in so vast and elegant a space. Touya who you dug in the dirt with. Touya who picked bugs out of the mud and put them on you. Touya who turned his nose up at dolls and ate things right out of your lunch box without asking, like he was a starving child without any access to food.

The house said otherwise.

Touya treated the Todoroki mansion with the same pointed lack of care he had as a teenager, kicking in the door as he led you inside, throwing his things in a pile in the entry. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, fondly nostalgic over his shithead behavior.

“You missed a spot—I think there’s a bare patch of floor over there,” you said.

Touya gave you a narrow-eyed gaze over his shoulder as he uttered a string of objects you might suck.

You raised your eyebrows at him, smiling and unbothered. He’d always said it was your beta nature that left you unfussed with his various attitudes, taking everything in stride. You didn’t know if that was true—you’d always sort of suspected it was the strange, inherent connection you felt to him, and to the Todoroki family at large that kept you fond of him, even as he descended into teenage fury.

You didn’t know what it was, as you’d not ever felt it with your other friends’ families who you’d spent nearly as much time with. But if it netted you a lifelong friend, you weren’t about to question it.

Rei was in the kitchen like she had been that first day Touya brought you home, an enormous expanse of marble counter and vaulted ceiling that made her look unfathomably small. Her snow white hair had been cropped short into a page boy cut and made her look younger than her years, especially when she glanced up at you with the very same smile she had when you were a child.

“Welcome back, Y/N,” she said. You bowed respectfully, Touya scoffing and grabbing the back of the collar to haul you up.

“She’s not the fucking prime minister,” he grunted.

“And you’re not the boss of me,” you sniped, the drinks you’d both shared at lunch making you a little looser tongued in front of Rei than you’d have liked.

“Shouto will be by in just a few minutes as well, and he’ll be so happy to see you,” Rei said, smiling gently.

“Shouto lives on his own?” you asked, curious. Aside from picturing him as the skinny preteen you’d last seen him as, you also had trouble imagining kind, sweet little Shouto leaving his mother on her own—and with Touya definitely counted as on her own, for all the help he was. Shouto seemed devoted, familial.

“He’s wanted his own space since he presented,” Rei said lightly, clearly unbothered.

It was rare for omegas to peel off from their family units before finding a mate, and the strangeness of striking out on his own struck you even further. Maybe he wanted a nest to bring someone back to, after finding the right person?

You wondered if he was going to be participating in this year’s mating run, and made a mental note to try and find out if he wanted help avoiding any undesirable alphas. If he was an omega, your beta scent would help disguise some of his tracks, you’d just have to follow in his footsteps far enough away from the main track that a ranging alpha wouldn’t accidentally stumble upon it.

That thought was cut short, however, by the sound of the door creaking open in the foyer you’d just come in from. There was the sound of rustling fabric, like someone shedding their coat, and then footsteps padded through the hall. A hint of a scent met your nose, slightly sweet and smoky, with an undercurrent of something fresh—like a campfire burning on a cold, clear day. Your brow furrowed, the frostiness an almost-familiar dimension, like Rei's cold widlflower scent. Who was—?

Then a tall, unfamiliar alpha poked his head through the door, fluffy red and white strands of hair tangling across his forehead. He was an arresting sight—easily the most beautiful person you had ever seen, every single one of his features so perfectly and evenly placed, like he'd been put together deliberately. He looked startlingly like Rei, if Rei were a man, except for the fiery blue of his left eye, the shock of scarlet hair above it.

You stared at this new interloper, confused, until you were seized with a sudden memory of that scar, that same mop of hair bent over a turtle-shaped block puzzle.

No. No fucking way.

Rei smiled, opening her arms, and you gaped after him as Todoroki Shouto prowled across the kitchen to her, enveloping her in a hug. Where Touya was taller than his mother, his baby brother almost dwarfed her, easily clearing six feet, his shoulders broad and his frame packed with dense muscle. He'd always had the same elegant, sweetly beautiful set to his features that his mother and Touya did, but there was something sharper about them now, a slightly more alpha edge to him.

An enormous bicep shifted against the sleeve of his t-shirt as Shouto held Rei, and suddenly it was very clear how Shouto had managed to become a firefighter.

Something pinched your arm, hard, and you whipped around to stare at Touya accusingly. “Ouch!”

He smirked. “Don’t fucking stare like he does.”

You scowled at him, and opened your mouth to say something unsavory, until two mismatched eyes turned on you, pinning you in place.

“Y/N,” Shouto said. His voice was deep as midnight—so much lower than you had remembered—careful and smooth. The sound of it slithered up your spine like a shiver.

“Shouto?” you answered, stepping closer. “You’re Shouto? Are you sure?”

Shouto released his mother, only the tiniest corner of his mouth twitching. And that was confirmation enough. Shouto had always been a little serious, watching you carefully and intently. He was most like his mother that way—withdrawn, a little bit solemn.

“As far as I am aware,” he said. His tone was flat but you heard the tease in it, regardless. And that was so like him too, couching his inner little shit under the most serious tone, under those earnest heterochromatic eyes.

“Wish he wasn’t,” Touya muttered.

“Oh my god, Shouto. You’ve grown up so much,” you said, a strange thrill zinging up your spine as he stepped closer. That scent like campfire on a cold day washed over you, making you a little dizzy.

Shouto’s eyes got a little bit round at the edges, and something pulled at the corner of his mouth again, an expression you didn’t recognize. His tone was soft as he observed, “You are exactly the same as I remember.”

You could tell he meant it kindly, so you chose not to be offended with his obvious tact. You were well aware you were not a fresh-faced high school graduate anymore.

“I’m definitely older than you remember,” you said, resisting the urge to poke him in the chest. Your hand felt magnetized toward it for some reason. “Don’t be surprised if you hear my bones creaking all the way from the preserve during the run.”

Something sudden and strange passed over Shouto’s face, those mismatched eyes narrowing in on you.

“You’re running,” he said, his tone suddenly flat. “This year.”

“Yeah I’m back in town for it,” you said, ignoring Touya’s scoff at your side. “Gotta appease my mother. She doesn’t get that betas aren’t the target crowd for this, nevermind ancient ones. That, and I plan to disappear up a tree if someone so much as sniffs in my direction.”

“Up a tree,” Shouto repeated, sounding contemplative.

You wondered if he was internalizing how weird you were. He probably wouldn’t have remembered you being weird, considering how younger kids never thought to question their older peers. Maybe he’d even thought you cool when you were growing up together—you’d quickly disabuse him of that notion.

You nodded. “I’ve only been followed by alphas twice and both times I lost them up that big willow overlooking the bay, if you take the seaside path out two miles?”

Shouto’s eyes tracked you closely, like he was committing every word to memory. “I know it.”

You smiled. “The sea breeze is just enough to hide a beta’s scent, once you’re out of sight up there. I hope the city life hasn’t gotten me too out of shape to get up the trunk. Though to be frank I’m not too worried about it this year. Are you running?”

“Yes,” Shouto said, so quickly that it looked like he’d startled himself.

Touya’s head whipped around to stare at him, and Rei’s eyelashes fluttered momentarily, a weird stillness overcoming her—until a sort of look of understanding came over her features. You thought you caught a hint of a smile as she ducked her head to return to her dinner preparations.

“Thought you said you weren’t interested,” Touya said, his tone accusing. “You’ve never run before.”

Shouto looked deeply unfussed by his older brother’s sudden consternation. “Perhaps I have changed my mind.”

“The hell you did,” Touya said snottily. “You said you knew you wouldn’t find your life mate there.”

“Perhaps that has changed too,” Shouto said, his tone so dry that you could tell he was purposefully needling Touya. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Brothers.

Touya’s scoff overlaid the thump of Rei’s knife as she returned to chopping, and you realized how rude it looked for the three of you to be standing there arguing while she was working.

You hurriedly stepped around Touya and Shouto, peering over Rei’s shoulder. For some reason you were hyperaware of Shouto as you passed him, a thought you shoved right back out of your mind as you approached Rei. “Is there anything I can help with? I feel like I have years of free dinners to pay you back for.”

“I am almost done, but thank you, Y/N,” Rei said, as Touya said something in a haughty tone of voice, and Shouto’s low baritone answered. Rei’s mouth quirked softly at this—and you realized it was the same way Shouto smiled, small and private.

“—Not bringing home some weird fucking omega,” Touya was saying when you turned back to the boys. You startled when you realized Shouto had shifted to face you instead of his brother, and his body language looked like he was mostly ignoring him.

You channeled your sudden laugh into a fake cough. Touya eyed you sourly, long used to your tricks.

“Well if you want any help on the run, let me know,” you told Shouto, cutting into their argument with the practice of a beta used to diffusing things, especially between Touya and others. Shouto’s mouth twitched again like he knew what you were doing, and you watched his eyes pick over you speculatively.

You marveled at how far back you had to tilt your head if you wanted to look him directly in the eye now. He was so big, and so unexpectedly handsome—he really had grown up well. Some omega was going to be very, very pleased at the end of this week, provided he really did go after someone.

“If it’s your first you probably won’t know all the best hiding spots,” you told him.

Not that they were really hiding spots, considering most omegas wanted to be found. And there was no one on this earth who wouldn’t want to be found by an alpha who looked like Shouto did now. But he’d probably want to make sure he got to his intended first, before any other alpha found them.

Shouto nodded, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I will take you up on that,” his tone was low, intimate.

You smiled up at him, though something weird twinged in your chest. “Lunch sometime this week then? I’ll walk you through everything.”

Touya made a noise of disgust, and you shushed him. Shouto’s smile pulled into a quarter-moon sliver, sweet and beautiful. “I would like that.”

A strange little thrill zinged down your spine. You very pointedly did not think about it, instead shooting Shouto a thumbs up. And then, seized by a sudden need to get away, you marched forward to grab Touya by his collar, dragging him out into the dining room.

“Do you have to make your mother do everything? Let’s set the table,” you ordered him, shoving him at the cabinets. Touya swore at you, trying to twist his lanky body out of your hands, spitting like a wet cat.

But your mind was already elsewhere, occupied by this strange new turn of events. It really had been a long time away from your hometown, and much more had changed than you realized. You’d missed seeing Touya start to recover his life, you’d missed Rei returning to herself, you’d missed Shouto growing up into a man—and an alpha. You were suddenly overcome by the feeling that you did not want to miss any more, did not want to leave again—though of course that was foolishness.

The run was less than a week away, and you had train tickets back into the city just after.

And you had your mom to provide for, much as she wanted you to settle down with the first rando who got handsy with you in the woods. An alpha would have to bring more than an interest in you to your coupling in order to win you—and that was not going to happen, especially not to a beta, and especially not to you.

You laid the dishes out, resolving yourself. You’d enjoy this week, but never lose sight of the fact that you’d still have to leave at the end of it.

After all, it wasn’t like some miraculous twist of fate was lurking just around the corner of the Todoroki kitchen, ready to change your life.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #shouto x you #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #shouto x y/n #todoroki shouto imagine #bnha x reader #andie's writing #character: todoroki shouto

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livlaughloveluke · 2 months

Text

𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 - 𝐥.𝐜 🪸

daughter of poseidon!reader x luke castellan 🫧

summary- in an attempt to keep percy from going insane, y/n is forced to keep her relationship with luke a secret

warnings- feminine reader, post tlt but no luke betrayal (percy is there and chris and clarisse are together), use of y/n

2.4k

Since the dawn of time, you and Luke Castellan have been best friends. Attached at the hip since birth, the two of you have always been close. He was the one who helped you conquer your most intimidating challenges, whether that be the nervousness due to the first day of school or a Minotaur vigorously hunting you down.

And you assisted him, too. On those sleepless nights due to haunting nightmares, you lay beside him, comforting him through every scared shiver. It had always been Luke and Y/N, two peas in a pod, destined to spend eternity together.

Now, you both reside in Camp Half-Blood, eagerly awaiting your next adventure. You loved your time at the summer camp, whether it was tending to the young children or paddle boarding on the smooth and crystal blue lake that glimmered as sunlight passed through. It was thrilling to live such a beautiful life with the people you loved most.

It all started when you waltzed into the infirmary at fourteen, hurt and confused, with Luke and Annabeth by your side. The journey to get here was long and painful, losing one of your best friends, Thalia, in the process. Your head throbbed as Chiron explained the basis of everything, since this whole Greek God situation could be hard to process.

Poseidon, the God of the Sea, claimed you with ease the moment he saw you lingering by the lake all day. With Hermes, it took him a lot longer to accept Luke. However, you cheered him up when no one else could, lighting up his whole world, and no matter how bummed he was about his absent father, your illuminating smile shifted his mood instantly.

You’ve been a year-rounder since then; the world is too dangerous for you to venture off. Every once in a blue moon, however, you wish that just for one year, the monsters would stop prowling and you could explore the cities that tourists swarmed on a regular basis. Other times, you were happy to live in the warm solace you referred to as camp. The companions made inside the safe haven were incomparable to all the mysteries that roamed outside.

Around a year ago, a small blond boy arrived, his cluelessness mirroring yours when you first stumbled in. As you gave him the standard tour, something seemed to be off. The stories he shared of devious monsters attacking reminded you of your childhood, and a feeling of suspicion and concern arose.

Your wariness was only confirmed when the golden trident floated above Percy’s head. Sure, you were excited to have a younger brother, but you knew the dangers the life of a forbidden child contained. So, you made it your honorary job to protect him no matter the circumstance. You taught him how to surf and how to use his powers for the greater good. And so a magnificent connection was formed, with you and him bonding like full siblings. He loved hearing all of the gossip between the older campers, and you loved when he updated you on how his friends were doing. Not to mention the chaotic board game nights you and he shared with Annabeth and Luke. There were almost no hidden secrets, for you told each other everything. Which is why you felt horrible about the massive personal detail you left out of your weekly yapping session.

You and Luke had been dating for three months. You had liked each other for a while, but eventually the overly flirty comments and long stares got the best of him, and he confessed . One breezy night, he asked you to meet him on the waterfront before bed. You obliged, stepping out into the chilly weather to find hundreds of blooming flowers (courtesy of the Demeter kids) arranged neatly in a heart. It was cheesy, but it was the exact type of movie love you were looking for.

That chilly, moonlit evening, you decided it was best to keep your relationship hidden from Percy and, for that matter, most of the camp. Close friends, such as Clarisse and Chris, knew, but that was only because you went on frequent double dates with the pair. But that doesn’t mean others didn’t bat an eye at your overly friendly relationship. You had almost been caught multiple times, despite Luke being the son of Hermes, who was known for his sly nature.

The first time it happened was entirely Luke's fault. You and him had just finished archery training and were walking to lunch, where the rest of camp resided. As soon as you approached the bustling picnic tables, you were dragged off by the Aphrodite kids, who wanted your help with some fashion emergencies. That left Luke with Chris and Percy, along with some other campers from Hermes cabin. -

“How was archery?” Asked an unclaimed kid, who Luke had little interaction with. They had small talk every once in a while, but not enough for him to know any personal details about his life.

“It was fine. You know, my girlfrie-“

Luke was lucky looks couldn’t kill, because with the way Percy and Chris were staring at him, he would have been six feet under already. He tried his best to salvage the situation, continuing on as if nothing had happened.

“My friend hit three bullseyes in a row. It was really impressive.” He finished, staring down as he pushed around his mushy broccoli with a flimsy spork, hoping to avoid the glares of his, let's face it, practically brother-in-law. Lucky for him, Percy shrugged it off, and the topic was quickly changed.

The second time, however, was most certainly your mistake.

The dull light from the moon provided little protection from the consuming jet black sky. You and Luke had to sneak out after hours often, which was one of the major downsides to a private relationship.

“No!” You playfully shouted, trying to juke him out as you ran through the rocky sand of the shoreline. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), your boyfriend was the most athletic kid on camp. He easily caught you before throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to the navy blue lake.

You gently punched his back through strained laughter, gasping for oxygen. But as he attempted to step into the cold winter waters, you used your powers to manipulate the sea so it avoided his path. And with one quick swoop of your hand, he was drenched with the cooling solution, and you remained dry.

He set you down, aggressively shaking the water from his head. “I forgot you were like the princess of the sea.” He said. Your harmonious giggles caused him to grin from ear to ear.

“Yeah, maybe not the best choice on your end. C’mon, Percy probably has a shirt for you.” You replied, interlocking your fingers and skipping back to your cabin.

You sneakily creaked the door open, hand over your mouth to try and hush the laughs that spilled out. Percy was sound asleep, snoring softly as you made your way to his dresser, rummaging through the array of neon orange shirts.

“Here. Mr. D gave him the wrong size by accident a while ago.” You whispered toward him before dragging him back out with the fabric still in hand. Once outside, he slid his soaking shirt off, carefully placing it next to your clothes that hung on the drying line. After giving him the t-shirt, you kissed him goodnight and headed back to get some much-needed sleep.

The next day, Percy awoke you with violent shakes, causing you to twist and groan with confusion.

“Get up. It’s like eight already. Don’t you have counselor activities to tend to too?” He said.

You shot up in a panic, staring down at the clock that read 8:03 a.m., almost 20 minutes after your morning duties. With an exasperated sigh, you slipped out of bed and rushed to grab a clean t-shirt from outside.

Still dazed, you grabbed a familiar shirt off the clothing line and rushed back inside, quickly changing in hopes of escaping Chiron’s anger for your unpunctuality.

While you happened to make it to breakfast on time, you failed to notice how unusually long the shirt was or how the tag on the back had the initials “L.C.” loosely scribbled on them. However, everyone else noticed your strange outfit.

“Whose shirt is that? Why is it so big?” Percy was immediately questioned as you sat down with your food tray in hand.

“What do you mean?" You asked, glancing back down at your lengthy attire, before realizing your mistake. “Oh! I spilled something on my only clean shirt, so I borrowed that old one from you. Sorry.” You salvaged, and others seem to believe you.

You made eye contact with Luke from across the table, growing flustered instantly due to the anxiety-inducing incident.

The third and final time might have been your fault, too. But by then, the two of you were fed up of keeping it secret.

“Awe, look at the little lovebirds!”

Clarisse voiced as she shakily pointed a digital camera towards Luke and you, who were engaged in your own conversation.

Gorgeous flowers blossomed around the couple, ranging in various colors and sizes. Laughs rang through the air as Chris, Clarisse, Luke, and you all hung out one hazy camp afternoon.

You looked up at the girl, smiling brightly as you twirled a pink flower in your palm. Grabbing Luke’s jaw with your soft, freshly manicured hands and turning his head to look in their direction, Chris pulled out a Polaroid camera, snapping a photo of the teens.

As the black picture slid out of the small box, Chris handed it to Clarisse, who shook it with force in order to see the image fully.

“Do you want me to take one of you two?” You asked, snatching the camera from Chris’s hands and pointing it towards them.

They posed, and the photo turned out super cute. You stared down at your frilly ruffle socks that stuck out of your high-top navy blue Converse. The toes of the shoes had been decorated with the signatures of all of your friends.

“It’s getting late; wanna head back?” Chris suggested the others let out a groan. He was right; they had camp duties to attend to, but being wrapped in their loved one’s embrace was so much more appealing.

You hopped up reluctantly, Luke grabbing your hand as you took the scenic route back to the cabins, the other couple straying a different way.

“I love going out with them.” You declared, breaking the silence and dramatically swinging your intertwined arms.

“Me too. It makes me feel like we’re just regular people.” He responded, smiling at her with such genuineness.

“Maybe in another universe.” You replied, sighing as you let out a light giggle.

“Speaking of which,” you continued. “Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?”

“Duh. We’re probably Gwen and Spiderman in one.”

“Totally.” They grinned, enjoying the comfort they brought each other in the chaos that was their life.

After hours of training, you slipped back into Cabin 3, taking the photo out of your back pocket and placing it on your bed. You smiled at the sweet situation before Luke burst in, calling you to the bonfire. Obliviously, the Polaroid was left open on your bed, exposed to the world.

You basked in the warmth of Apollo’s kids songs, zoned out while mindlessly swaying to the beat of the guitar. Luke, who was sitting beside you, noticed you staring off into space and questioned it.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

“I wanna tell Percy about us.” You replied, looking into his eyes to detect his emotions. He seemed surprised at first, but his expression changed to one more supportive a few seconds later.

“I agree. I mean, he might try to literally drown me, but I hate lying to him.”

“Me too.” You finished, turning back to face the singer. However, you instead met eyes with a furious-looking Percy, holding a small black rectangle in his hands. Your heart stopped, and you leaped up to rush and explain, Luke following behind. The young blond stormed off in the other direction.

“Percy, please listen. We couldn’t tell you because we knew how you’d react. I know you’re protective and all, and I love that about you, but Luke's a good guy, and we both know that.” You started, praying to the gods that this would work out.

“I barely even know him!“ Percy lied straight through his teeth, trying to come up with a rational reason for his anger.

“Are you kidding? You’ve known him for a year now.” You sassed back.

“How long have you been dating?” He threw away his last point, knowing he had already lost that argument.

“Three months, I think.” You whispered out, ashamed.

“Three months, and you didn’t think to let me, your little brother, know?” He screamed, speed-walking back to his cabin, irritated.

You let out a sigh, facing Luke. Sadness coated your glossy eyes before seeping out onto your cheeks. Your boyfriend was quick to wipe the tears with his calloused thumb, comforting you.

“Hey, he’ll come around eventually. Let him sleep it off.” He whispered, embracing you in a tight hug. You buried your head into the crook of his neck, clamping your eyes shut.

As the sun rose the next morning and Percy stepped out of the cabin, you and Luke were waiting outside, prepared with a whole spiel about your relationship. To your astonishment, he greeted you with a smile and spoke up first.

“I’m sorry about last night. While I think this whole concept of you dating Luke is insane, he’s probably the best it’s going to get, so I approve.” You smiled back, a sigh of relief escaping your throat.

“And I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. It’s just-“

“Don’t. It’s fine, really. Just absolutely no PDA in front of me.” Percy stated, a look of disgust appeared as he said the last sentence. Both of you agreed to his simple terms.

“I’ve gotta go to the arena. I’ll see you later.” Luke declared, and you nodded, ruffling your fingers through his curls before he departed. Once he was a solid distance away, Percy leaned in and whispered to you.

“Really? Luke Castellan? That's the best you could do?”

#liv’s writing !#luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians

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mphountitled · 5 months

Text

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫: 𝐑𝐢𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

★ ot7 x fem!reader

★ The Riize members who would respond the best at being called 'Daddy' (Shotaro, Eunseok, Sungchan, Wonbin)

★ warnings: nsfw, +18, dom/sub dynamics, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Phone sex

─── ⋆⋅ Shotaro

Your voice is stern and remarkably unimpressed when you call your boyfriend's name from the kitchen. Only a couple seconds later, and Shotaro is lazily strolling in... large hands buried in his pockets with that distinct smile stretching the corners of his full lips. His eyes swell with mischief as he leans against the fragile counter.

"Yes, my love?" He sings in a tone of voice that Shotaro weaponizes against you time and time again. When his voice was as airy as it is right now, drenched in literal honey, it proved significantly difficult not to give into his advances.

Right now, however, you're perfectly unaffected by his smile. Instead, you cross your arms over your chest, giving him a death glare as you lean against the counter adjacent to him.

Shotaro's smile is immovable.

"God, you're so sexy when you're frustrated." He pushes himself over the counter, slyly prowling his way to you. "Makes me wanna-"

You push lightly at his chest. Turning instead, to just your head at the pickle jar sitting idly on the counter beside you both. "Open it."

Your voice is stern and monotonous with all traces of jest gone. "I don't have time for your nonsense, Shotaro."

"Ooh!" He exclaims, "My government name? You must really be mad," he snickers before bending down to splay slow wet kisses along your cheek.

"Shotaro." You push at him again, but his hands immediately fly to your hips.

"I'll open it," he whispers, voice heavy, "Just ask nicely," therein lay the proverbial catch. Shotaro could never just be nice for the sake of it. There was always a catch.

"Just..." he places his index finger under your chin, dragging your face up until your eyes were piercing into his. "Just ask me nicely."

Your breathing grows increasingly labored because your boyfriend is unfortunately incredibly attractive and incredibly persuasive. You watch the longing in his eyes grow with immense skepticism.

"I'll just ask Sungchan-"

He cackles loudly, "Do that and you won't get to cum for a month." He's smiling with his head tilted but one thing you learned was that Shotaro rarely ever made idle threats.

"Now c'mon," he says, bending down to you, "Just ask."

You're slipping unceremoniously into your subspace because he's cradling your face now. His shoulders are hunched over you protectively and you close your eyes as you force those words out.

"Please open the jar for me-" You begin, but his grip on your face is unrelenting as he sings, "Aaaahh-"

"Please open the jar for me," Your shoulders slump and exhale in defeat, "Daddy."

"See! How easy that was?" He praises you with a big peck on lips before swerving to pick up the jar of pickles. The big dopey grin he sports makes your embarrassment worthwhile, and Shotaro watches as you munch on your pickles.

"I like it when you ask for my help!"

─── ⋆⋅ Eunseok

It happens during dinner, more specifically, a group dinner to which you were so graciously invited along with the other partners of the other members. Excitement flowed like an electrical current in the air and everyone seemed pleasantly tipsy, whether by alcohol or just the overly infectious and good vibe. Naturally, your inhibitions are on an all time low, as you lazily leaned into your boyfriend while a flurry of waiters brought forth the second course.

Eunseok had been comfortable extending his voice over the chatter in the room while still allowing you to keep a steady grip around his bicep. His hand lazily sitting atop your lap, rubbing dizzying circles on your exposed thigh.

You're not sure how long this had been going on, Eunseok's fingers gradually hiking your pleated skirt up higher and higher while he remained chatting with his friends.

You couldn't contain yourself once his hand finally slipped inside, up under your skirt...

Instead of stopping him, instead of pushing him away by the hardened contours of his bicep, you let it happen. Releasing a small, little exhale as you opened your legs ever so slightly.

Despite still in animated conversation with Shotaro, you could hear the smirk peppered in his voice as his fingers eased their way against your cunt.

The mewl that escaped your throat was downright ungodly, but it succeeded in lightly coaxing Eunseok away from his previous conversation.

His eyes are heavy with seamless intoxication as he looks down at you with a breathless, close lipped smile. It's as if him previously ignoring you, had been It's own thing, along with rubbing your soaking cunt under the table.

Eunseok's eyes are glimmering when he bends down to whisper,

"You good?"

You most certainly did not have the current brain capacity to tell him you were absolutely not good because you've taken to opening your legs even wider. You shift uneasily, trying to create as much friction while still appearing inconspicuous, and Eunseok's eyes only grow heavier.

He fucking adores seeing you needy. He loved pushing you past the bounds of your own sensibilities. When your relationship began, it had been a case of 'if'. Whether it was actually possible to have his overly smart, overly independent girlfriend, cock drunk to the point incoherence. Once Eunseok learned that you were a fan of forfeiting the power in the bedroom, his goalposts had shifted to 'how quickly' he could get you to become a messy, needy little slut.

Evidently, this evening, it did not take much at all and he thanked the alcohol.

Panicking, you chose instead to focus on what was in front of you. A plate of glazed skewers that remained untouched, "Um..." you begin awkwardly while viciously apptempting to stave off just how needy you were, "I didn't order that-fuck," Your sentence wavers into a haorse crack as Eunseok's finger swipes over your puffy, clothed clit. In your periphery, his giant frame bends over your like an umbrella, focusing on your each and every movements.

"I didn't ask for..." You're absolutely fargone at this point, stopping and starting sentences while your brain fought the pleasure, "I didn't ask for the glazed squid skewers."

"You were in the bathroom," he immediately adds, and a jumpstart in conversation from the rest of the room would have completely made his next words go unnoticed. However, because you were hanging over everything falling out of his lips, you most definitely heard it. "I ordered for you."

Eunseok's fingers finally push past the barriers of your drenched panties, making direct contact with your weeping cunt.

"Is that going to be a problem?"

"Fuck- no, Daddy."

You immediate slapped a hand over your mouth, letting yourself whimper into the palm of your hand as your heart raged in its cage.

His face is expressionless.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" There was a dangerous, heavy lilt in his voice that made you assume you wholly and completely fucked up. For all of 2 seconds you mourn your own dignity. That was made even worse when Eunseok pulls his fingers out of your cunt, and up from under your skirt as he patted the material over your legs.

"We're leaving." He said to the rest of the group, "She has a work thing,"

He pulls you up by your forearm, leading you to pass his members and their unsatisfactory rumblings.

Before you even mame it outside, he pulls you towards him, letting his warm breathe ghost over your ear as he hissed, "I need you to call me that shit again," he breathes out. "This time, with my dick inside you."

─── ⋆⋅ Sungchan

His brows are glimmering with evidence of pregnant beads of sweat, but still, his mouth is unrelenting. Sungchan eats you out with absolute zeal every single time without fail. Some nights, your sex would consist purely of Sungchan pulling your legs over the side of his bed, while his tall frame descended on your weeping cunt as if it were his second dinner. He was brash and incredibly passionate, as he locked his giant arms around your arms when he caught sight of you trying to escape.

For the most part, however, Sungchan's eyes are heavy-lidded with lust as he French kisses your pussy like he his life depended on it.

"Fuck, Channie-"

A sharp pinch on your thigh releases a very curt, very loud yelp from your throat, and you glare down at him. Sungchan's eyes are deadly as he pulls his head back ever so slightly. His lower face is glistening with your juices, but he refuses to wipe anything away.

"Am I not eating you out good enough?" He asks, head tilting as if he were genuinely perplexed. "Why would you call me Sungchan," he sneers at the very thought.

"Ew." He adds, before lowering his face back down to your center.

"The sooner you take what I'm giving you, the sooner we'll both get to cum," he did not clarify further as he reattached his eager lips to your cunt. Sungchan was not lying about the fact that he too was quickly approaching orgasm. He's pushing his cock into the side of bed, where he kneeled. Ab muscles tightening as he splays sloppy kisses on your cunt. His tongue, delving past your folds, as far into your hole as it could go.

"J-Just like that, Daddy," Your fingers curl into Sungchan's hair and he perks up like an overstimulated puppy. His eyes crinkle at the sides as he moans straight into your pussy.

Sungchan's hips thrust against the bed, almost at the exact same pace his tongue was fucking up into you. All you saw were stars, and your vision blurred as you pulled his face even closer against your pussy.

Although he enjoyed everything you gave him, Sungchan would admit in a heartbeat that this was his favorite part. This is why he loved eating you out. He loved the depravity of it. He loved watching you loose every shred of sinisibility, belonging to him and him alone.

"That's it, baby," he'd whisper, "Doing so fucking good for Daddy..."

─── ⋆⋅ Wonbin

Your heart is swollen in its cage when you realize he's most definitely tired. Instead of resting his undoubtedly tired muscles, letting sleep take him away into the night garden, he is up, talking to you.

"-That was probably my favourite part. Although I do think I could've probably done better in the second verse..."

Tedium is thick in Wonbin's voice. Almost as thick as the gruff tenor that flows from his mouth, through the receiver held to your ear.

"Didn't I say you're not allowed to do that," You scold lightly.

He sighs heavily through the phone, and you can almost imagine his dark eyes rolling, "I shouldn't focus on anything out of my control, I know that."

You nod. "What's done is done, and I think you killed it thank you very much,"

You may never really know of the cataclysmic effect your praise has on your boyfriend. Even when you were a billion kilometers apart, being connected by a single phone call, Wonbin still feels his body heat up as if you were right there, in bed beside him. He can practically feel the bed dip in the phantom presence of your curves shifting up against him. If he closed his eyes and listened to your praise bleed from the receiver, he could imagine you were right underneath him, taking everything he had to give.

"Binnie?" You suddenly ask, and Wonbin snaps his eyes open, gazing up at the ceiling. Although he is alarmed to find that his hand had drifted underneath the waistband of his Nike sweatpants, Wonbin's voice is stable. Giving nothing away as he breathes out,

"I'm here. I'm just..." His words do not trail off indefinitely because Wonbin does not gave the capacity to sound unsure about anything. In fact, he sounds very much in control.

"I need you to tell me where you are right now..." that causes you to sit up straighter against the headboard, a rush of excitement spanning through the undercurrent of blood in your veins.

"I'm at home," you whisper back, not quite sure why you were whispering but feeling the need to nonetheless.

"Hmmm," the sound reached your ears with the satisfaction of a very big purring cat, "Can you touch yourself for me?"

You obey without a second thought. Wonbin had never been easy to overstep. His overall aura practically coaxed you into obeying his every word and so it is of no surprise to you, that your hands are already firmly down your shorts, legs parted as you grinded against your palm.

Your labored breathing is enough to push Wonbin even further down his spiral of lust and he groans as he says, "Fuck yourself with your fingers, baby," how you adored hearing his pet names, especially when your mind was utterly buzzing with desire. "Imagine I'm there with you right now-"

"Oh, fuck," easing your fingers inside of yourself had been far too was given just how slippery your pussy was. Wondbin begins to stroke his cock faster as the lewd sounds of you fucking yourself with your own fingers, travel through the receiver.

You're a moaning and whimpering mess while Wonbin's only noise of enjoyment is his heavy, labored breathing. His mouth is open and his eyes closed shut.

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby," He says, kneedeep into his own fantasy, "Taking me so fucking well." He strokes himself faster. "Are you close, baby?"

"F-fuck yes, Daddy." The first real and raw sound of lust slips passed Wonbin's mouth.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me cum." He whispers with his mind still reeling. "Say it again... Tell daddy just how close you are to making a mess on your fingers..." He urged, now on the doorstep of his orgasm, "Fucking say it again, baby... Please?"

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undercoverpena · 5 months

Text

be good, be quiet

joel miller x f!reader | joel masterlist

GIF credit to the amazing @perotovar who i adore, and i'm grateful adores me.

summary: bill tells you both you're sleeping in separate rooms when a thunderstorm doesn't allow you to leave. but joel isn't planning on getting any sleep.

wordcount: 3.7k warnings: post outbreak. smut. sneaking around (so to speak). p in v. fingering. joel angst. you riding joel. jo's spelling. praise kink. joel trying to keep you quiet (by sticking his fingers in your mouth). feelings, but joel-feelings.

AN: thanks as always to @thetriumphantpanda for leaving me comments in the document that made me feel less scared about posting. and also to @swiftispunk for being a cheerleader when i threw a snippet at her like a toddler with a drawing.

All unannounced, it rumbles in. Creeping in, bringing clouds that snuff light and immense claps of thunder. It’s the kind of storm that has lightning that even the shadows can’t hide from. Makes the house creak, groan—it pleading, weeping in its persistence to stand up straight and not cower.

It’s also the only reason the two of you are allowed to stay.

Joel hears the whispers, tuned in until they grow into near shouts in a room next to the one you and him are standing in. If you’re listening, you make no effort to show it—head turned, staring out as the rain thrashes down, eyes following certain droplets as they run down the pane.

Honestly, he doesn’t even want to fucking stay.

Had folded his arms to indicate as such when it was suggested. But, as he stares at you, he knows he doesn’t want you in it—recalling not all that long ago when you had shivered for days. You’d barely been able to speak full sentences as you remained curled in a ball he couldn’t unfurl, all cold to the touch, clinging to him as your teeth rattled in your skull.

It’s the only reason he’s grateful Frank forces Bill’s hand. His tongue piercing, delivering a fine—all razor-like, cutting, his voice booming that the two of you were to sleep in separate rooms.

He could have argued, could have glared, tilted his head—he didn’t. Not as the house shook with another crack of thunder, an idea sprouting, digging itself deep and blooming out across the wasteland living inside of him.

It’s why he plays along. Taking the fresh clothes, the offering of a shower, bidding you a goodnight loud enough for them to hear downstairs, a kiss to your cheek to sign it—burying a smirk under it all.

The whim pulsating, throbbing under his skin—not doused by the cooling temperature of the shower or his hand gripping the base of his half-hard cock. Memories, tinged with blackened edges brimming as he steps from the steam, thinking, ticking—

Waiting.

Waiting for the house to go mute in between the cries of the weather.

Waiting to strike, to prowl—a champion at it, awarded best in class.

Then, he tires from it.

Throwing the covers back, the soles of his feet meet the wood on the thunder. The ticking clock in the corner syncs with his racing heart, desperate to be quiet, maintain mouse-like footsteps, careful—as silent as he is when he moves through buildings that screech and click.

The door you’re behind is at the end of the hallway—shut, closed. A metaphorical do not disturb struck across it from the glare the two of you had been given before Bill had shrunk off to bed.

He didn’t care, not as the drops of water dripped from his hair down his neck, sliding under the fabric that didn’t belong to him. Fingers reaching out for the door handle, all set to twist, when it opens, metal pulled away from him—draping him and the dull flowered carpet in warm orange.

“Jo—“

He’s quick, hand smothering your exclamation, muffling your words. Covering them with his palm, enjoying how soft your skin feels even under it, as he raises his other hand, finger to his mouth—escorted by a glare, a silent order—before dropping it to your hips, grabbing, digging into you as he begins to walk you backwards. You move easily with him, pressing yourself flush to him, all trusting, reading him like a damn book.

“Were y’coming to find me?”

It leaves his tongue in a rasp.

And the look you give him makes his cock even harder than it already had been. Reminding him he’s too worn, too old to be doing shit like this—but fuck does he want to. Lay there, thinking of only you. Mind lost out at sea, bobbing along gentle waves of how you feel wrapped around him, that whimper you make when he flattens his palm to your spine, slides in, fills you, hips flush with yours.

You’re good, because you nod, no words—not making another noise. Your hand slips past him, shutting the door as your chest remains flush with his—the door happy, gleeful to return to its frame. He slides his hand from your mouth, moving to wrap it around the back of your neck, your chin tilted up without so much as a request.

Then, you smile, soft, almost innocent. But he knows you’re no angel—you’re something carved from molten and destruction, but fuck are you pretty. The kind that leaves an outline on the back of his eyelids. The kind that he suspects would turn heads, if you didn’t look like you wished to disembowel them for even looking. Plus, you’re always with him, eyes on him, enamoured, enchanted—

You shouldn't.

Not when he’s poison, slowly feeding you with drops—rotting your insides and blackening your soul. Watching you slowly being made in the shape of his past, carved, narrative rewritten and a future fading, before you get to live it, because of his company. A price scratched against your name.

But, you chose him—leave a mark, Miller. And he did, does. He paints himself on your spine, ropes of white whenever he can; he makes the juncture between your thighs slick with the mess he makes of you. More you whine, and that’s when it changed. When it became less about mindless distraction and more about possession, care, something else fucking entirely—

He pulls your ear to his mouth, your body relaxing, going limp—catching the scent of freshly washed skin. “Ima need you to be a good girl and be quiet. Can y’do that?”

Joel catches the smirk before you blink it away. Your teeth digging into your lip, nodding, catching the reflection of him as lightning floods the room—a sight that undoes him, affects him even though he’ll never show it. Because how much you want him scares him, makes him feel something other than numb, muted grief and disgrace.

The two of you don’t kiss, but he ghosts his lips over yours all the same. Something about the room makes it more intimate, romantic, normal.

“Not like you to break the rules.”

You snort, fingers knotting in his still-damp hair. “Well, I’m sure it’s equally not gentleman-like to sneak into a lady’s room.”

He grunts, and buries it in the back of his throat. Your tongue forces his hand, making him tug on the borrowed PJ bottoms you’re wearing. Palm flattening under the fabric covering your chest, resting it on your stomach, pausing, briefly feeling your heart beating, proof it isn't a fantasy, a dream, before sliding it down.

That’s when he focuses, basks in the feeling of nothing but the softness of your skin and the stories etched into it from surviving, from living. His fingers inching under the elastic and string, your eyes aflame, an inferno, and he wants you to burn him. Singe yourself into him, leave a mark, make it hurt.

“Stopped being a gentleman a while ago, honey.”

You’re wet. A truth two of his fingers feel, sliding them into your heat, suddenly enveloped by nothing but warmth and the sweet rose scent of the soap you washed your skin in. And it’s a comfort, eyes transfixed, all in awe as he watches you try to hold back a gasp—enjoying the way your nails dig into his neck, lashes fluttering and how you part your lips in a silent moan. He can make out what you’re saying is Joel. Each letter inscribed, even in a muted whisper. J-O-E-L.

He already decides he misses the way you sound. A new craving, a new need to make you sing—make your body break out into music, remind him how sweet something can sound when the world is nothing but grievous behaviour and murder.

It’s why he likes when your back is pressed to his chest, knees sore as he pistons in and out of you on the shitty mattress in the shitty room back in the QZ.

Because you can be loud, unfiltered.

There is no need to muffle back how good it feels what he’s doing to you, you can be unhinged, hiss his name, moan through gritted teeth if you’re trying to punish him. He hears them all the same, collects them. Stores them, and uses them to keep the last shard of him intact from all the loss and survival—the part of him he occasionally shows you. Usually in the dark, more morning than night, your chest flush to his back, not asleep, but not fully awake.

But, he can’t collect them here, can’t risk it here—slowing his movements down, hearing you fight it, struggling, being strangled by the moan you want to let breathe.

“C’mon baby, you know how to be quiet. Y’so good when we’re surrounded by clickers. This is no different.”

Narrowing your eyes, you whimper as the base of his palm catches your bundle of nerves. “You’re not—fuck, Joel—usually doing this when we’re surrounded by clickers.”

The corners of his lips twitch. It slides up into one of his cheeks, making a home there—all temporary, only something you seem to pull from him. “Guess I’ll have to help y’out then, won’t I?”

Your eyes narrow briefly before he does. Snaking two fingers—index and middle—past your lips, pressing down onto your tongue, continuing the movements of his other hand, the one pumping his fingers inside of you, coating himself in you.

He learns, quickly, that the pressure applied to your tongue does little to muffle your moan, but the clap of thunder smothers the rest. The way it bleeds out, shakes everything, allowing you a chance to whimper, whine and moan. Eyes digging into his, begging, pleading—

And, he could watch you for hours like this. At his mercy, hanging on the edge—shimmered with a light sheen of sweat and desperation swirling in your eyes. It’s the only time you’re weak, that you show him you can be vulnerable, soft, your edges smoothed down.

It’s why it takes him by surprise when he feels your tongue swirl around his fingers, sucking on them, staring into his fucking soul like you could repair all it had been through. Fuck he’d let you try when you look at him like that.

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” he groans, sliding his palm from your face, resting it on the wall by your head.

“You’ve fucked me on a forest floor, Joel. Don’t act so surprised.”

He lets you have that one—rewarding you for it. Unable to tear his gaze away when you’re overcome with it, stilling, tensing, clenching around his fingers like a vice as you constrict, breathing laboured, rapid breaths before you slant his name across his lips. Stain it. Bury the gratitude and relief as you slide your tongue past his teeth, worming into another part of him, a place he realises he’s wanted you to own. Wants to swallow it, have you rooted under his skin—

“Get on the bed.”

“No,” you rasp, grasping his wrist from between your thighs, bringing his fingers to your lips, tongue swirling before you release them with a pop. “Floor. Bed creaks.”

Another flash, another rumble—it allowing him to take in the expression spreading over your face. The calm, sleepy edge to your smile, all thanks to him. It sears into his skull, makes a home, and buries into a crevice he’ll never be able to scrape you from.

Least of all when you turn, shedding your clothes without aid—stripping himself as you busy ripping sheets to the floor, pillows scattering, a teenager's sleepover dream strewn across the carpeted floor. One he has you lay down on, sliding his mouth over the parts of you he hasn’t yet touched—lapped and enjoyed. Leaving a trail, a path of desire against your skin, your nails finding a home in his scalp, awarding him with gasps, small medals compared to the trophy of before.

“Wanna go on top,” you mewl, hand on his, pausing his hips from connecting with yours. “Wanna ride you, Joel.”

“Think you can handle it.”

It’s perfectly timed, almost comically, the way lightning sparks through the room—your glare more than sharp, digging into him, spacing out his insides until he’s nothing but bone.

He knows you can, but he likes taunting you. Enjoys the way your eyes lick flames across his skin, that your tone can be curt with him, gaze sharpened, pointing.

Joel likes being under you. Has a fondness for the weight of you on him and how your thighs feel on either side of him. Mostly, he likes what it says—what it gives you. An assurance you never ask for and he can never provide, because he can’t give you much, a lot, anything. He’s not good, kind or soft—he won’t trace three words against your shoulder and fan his hand out over your back as he tells you you’re a tempest on two legs, a thing which takes his breath, makes him crave, makes him want, makes him wish.

“You can do it—can take it, take me.”

“I know,” you bite back, lining the head of him at your slit.

It almost makes him snigger. That fury in you, that little determined flame that won’t ever be doused, becoming an inferno in your indignation. So, he whispers your name, fingers crawling up your neck, watching the space your bodies join as you sink down on him.

And he’s in awe as your pussy swallows him, inch by inch, the lightest hiss from under your breath caressing the air as your hips go flush with his.

“Feel good don’t it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, eyes closed, head rolled back fingers digging, half-curling into his stomach. “You always feel good, Joel.”

Your velvet wrapped around him, encasing him in warmth, all slick and needy. It tugs at him, and makes him for a moment feel like a man and not a carved-out monster who keeps fighting to live another day, for some reason or another. He supposes you wouldn’t let him have it any other way, would fight him and anyone else tooth and nail on it. You’re fierce like that, a difficult fucking thing he’s come across and now wishes to never lose.

“So big,” you whine in a whisper.

Lit up by the storm. It casts flickering shadows over your breasts over the muscles that contort as you roll your hips—if it lingered longer, he’d have been able to witness how wild your eyes were, how slick it is where the two of you are conjoined. Evidenced ruin, a sight he’d pull up in his mind when he’s alone, and you’re busy, and he pretends his fist is close to how you feel.

“Y’doin’ so well for me.”

Another flash grants him the chance to study your parted lips, the way your lashes hang over your cheek. It’s a sight, a fucking delight. An extra breath of oxygen and an anchor to keep him here all at once. A thing which didn’t cling, but had sunk its nails into him all the same—I’m not letting go, and you’re not going to ask me to.

You never say those words, but they hang—attached to string and bunting, a banner of sorts. One that isn’t wrong. A realisation that feels larger here than at the QZ. Surrounded by ornate white furniture and floral patterns, a room which has remained untouched, unspoiled—almost making him feel like a person he used to know. The one who he occasionally spots in the mirror, hanging back in his reflection.

It fucks with his mind. Makes him relaxed, and unwinds the stress from his bones as he plants his feet on the ground and rocks with you. Enjoys your moans, soft, bitten back but likely screamed in your head.

A thought beating inside him, all closed fists hammering on ribs: because he never thought he’d get attached to someone. Never mind someone who appears so otherworldly, likely created to threaten, but he finds only fascinating. A soul who unlocks things within him, finds a way through cobwebs and vines.

Someone who makes him wonder how passion and despair, adoration and darkness can all exist inside of him. Especially without losing the parts which he needs to live, to protect, to save—while keeping the parts that have you coming back to him.

He’s sure you see it, though. You understand him, having peeled back the layers in time and seen the decay which lives within his chest. You’ve even traced your fingers over his scars, ear close to them, as if they’ll spill all their secrets. Even without answers, you remain by his side.

It’s what makes this time different. So much so, he lifts your hand from his chest, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles. All tender, soft. Your eyes twinkle, shimmering with something—lit up again—before he places your hand back and rests his hands on your hips, aiding you, helping you ride him, until he has a better idea, a better thought—

His palms almost lift you off him, just the tip remaining as you hover. Digging his thumb and fingers into your skin, leaving indents he can trace when he catches his breath, and he latches his mouth in the space under your breast. Kissing, drawing a circle with his tongue, before he sucks, nips. Intentionally leaving a flaw, signing his name in a signature only he’ll be able to admire—a piece of evidence that this is real, you’re real. Knowing it will be there in the trek back to the life the two of you live; present when you strip off and change, a blight on otherwise perfection, put there by him—another ruin in your life.

Because you could do better than him. A fact he knows, has put to bed but still occasionally turns over.

I chose you because you don’t expect perfection, you’re happy with just good.

Except, you’re more than good.

Your fingers brush over his cheek, soft, gentle. Far too much of both in his opinion. Then he lowers you back down, pussy taking every inch, the lightest hiss fluttering over him as he stares up at you. Transfixed, lost. Almost able to live a fantasy, allow himself to fall into a dreamlike state.

Because this, right in this room, could have been plucked from the world before. It normal, could pretend the two of you were in a room in some inn somewhere or a bedroom the two of you would have built together—hand-chosen ornate furniture and pleasant knick-knacks that adorn surfaces, wooden frames with pictures he could imagine you’d fill if this was real, and not a break in the reality.

“This what you wanted when you were coming t'look f’me?”

He sounds drunk, intoxicated, maybe he is. Having drank from you for so long, he’s more you than he is rotten. He assists you as he snaps his hips to yours, burying the thought in his movements. But, he’s breathing you in—tasting the air tinged with the two of you as you both pant, hunger rearing, desperate, wanting to collide and spark out across nerves, muscles and fucking bone.

Yes, you chant. Yes, yes, yes.

M’close, Joel. So close.

It falls in breathless swirls, a juxtaposition to how tight you are around him, knotting perfectly at the base of him. Sucking him in, keeping him rooted, the head of him finding that spot that makes your body loose and boneless.

“Doin’ so good for me, my good girl.”

So he fucks you harder, uncaring if the floorboards creak, if they protest and shout, he has to. A thing inside of him commanding it. This is all he can give, so give, give, give—

He feels your nails dig, half-moons slicing in—a new scar, one he’ll be thankful to trace. Next is your thighs and muscles tautening. Then, that flutter, the one he seeks, desperate to own, his prize, no one else's.

Mine, mine, fucking mine.

And, distantly, he’s aware he’s the one who pulls you down, but he’ll tell himself later it was you. Trick himself that you required it, even if it was he who needed it. His mouth slanting over yours, clinging to your jaw and cheek, tongue swirling over the moan that is bestowed to him, that hits and fucking pounds into him. Unable to hold on, barely a handful of thrusts before he’s grunting into your mouth, spilling into you, pouring unspoken words to the place between your thighs as you grasp at the tufts of hair on either side of his face.

Something about it makes you taste sweeter. A man like him should never get to experience it now, not this version of him, the act more forbidden, prohibited. It’s what makes him want to spread you out on the floor, lick the expanse between your thighs, taste the two of you—clean you with his mouth and smear you across his face until he’s dyed with the two of you.

Instead, he grasps you close when you collapse against his heaving chest. Palm, all rough, blotched with death, pressing against your cheek as he kisses you. Knowing he should get up and clean himself from between your legs; knowing he should go back to his room.

But he wants to remain on the floor. Enjoying this, whatever the fuck it is. Hand stroking your arm, your fingers drawing shapes as your mouth parts from him, flicking a warmer gaze over him, before lying on his chest.

Stay. Because of the storm.

It’s barely that, just droplets of rain occasionally kissing the glass of the windows.

But in his head, he wants to pretend a little longer. Live in some make-believe land that this is your two’s house, he found it—safety, built ease into your muscles, allowed the callouses to rid from clutching weapons you shouldn’t know how to use. That it’s just a night where the two of you can’t sleep, rather than it being a night where the two of you just feel safe.

“Sure,” he replies in a gruff. “F’the storm.”

Sighing in contentment, rather than annoyance, even if he knows there’s so much suspended in the air—words not spoken or shared.

He almost thinks he could. Almost thinks the moment calls for it—a little whisper, a selection of perfectly chosen words that would wrap you in the knowledge you mean something to him.

But, he thinks you know.

Hopes it, anyway.

AN: shout out to G, who had to listen to me ramble about this two months ago. i hope, once you read this, it's worth the wait.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #tlou fanfic #hbo the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader

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frogchiro · 7 months

Note

HII HII ur writing is perf 4 this idea but you don’t hav 2 do it !! i js thought of u <3 little red riding hood reader & big bad wolf (ko, ghost, price) any cod guy & i think it’s js soo cute !!!

[art by doujinpearl]

ARE YOU KIDDING ME THIS IS SO CUTE??? YOU NEVER MISS LOVE!!! And thank you it really means a lot to me that you like my silly writing <33

tw// horror elements and this has like one mention of a 'off-screen' death but no one major

I think I'm gonna go with König for this one?? Bc something about him just screams big bad wolf to me y'know? Also for the sake of this story, König is described like on the pics above, so his lower half is life a literal werewolf.

okay also i'm putting this under the cut because this somehow grew into a whole fic?? My dear @9irly9irl if you see this know that I love you and this was so. freaking. enjoyable to write??? I love this so much??? Also I'm sorry for the horror themes but I'm getting ready for October and the gloomy weather outside made me do this. I hope you still enjoy and PLEASE send me more for this au!!

Big bad wolf König who is on the prowl for some time now, he's on a hunt for you, the sweet girl who lives alone with her mother on the edge of the dark forest your good old momma always tells you to stay away from and for good reason. The townsfolk from the villages around whisper in fear and dread about a monster lurking in the woods, half man-half wolf with an insatiable taste for blood; they call the beast König, the undisputed King.

And honestly? König likes that rep. It means less annoying pests wandering around his territory safe for a groups of young guys from time to time who think they have the balls to try and 'kill the beast' but they are dealt with...pretty quickly.

But no, König has his glowing eyes set on something more...Exquisite. On something soft and pliable, sweet smelling and so so pretty. Namely on you. The werewolf guesses he has to be thanking his lucky starts or whatever bullshit that while sniffing around your cottage he overheard your mother talking about going out into the forest to bring her sickly mother, your grandma, a basket full of food and some other supplies and being the sweet little thing that you are, you of course cried and volunteered to go yourself, that your mother is already older and that you will make quick work of it.

König swears that day that his blood never rushed downward to his dick so fast. You, soft little you, all alone in his forest? His territory?? It's like you're begging to get taken and mated! The trek from your cottage to your grandma's home would take you about 2-3 days as she lives deep in the woods, the perfect timing for him to reveal himself and take you away for himself into his den in the darkest parts of the forest where you will have the perfect life with him! No more worrying about food or warmth during the cold, dreary winter months, he is more than a capable provider for his future mate, not to mention your future litter of happy yipping pups you will birth for him! It's a perfect plan!

And so he waits. And waits. And waits until the day you finally leave with your cute basket in tow and a tearful goodbye with your mommy dear that you will return as soon as possible. Yea, sure sweetheart.

I think he'd reveal himself by the time it's getting nighttime, when the sun sets, the air is getting cold and a ominous darkness sets over the forest where your trembling body sits in a makeshift nest made of a blanket and a thick animal pelt under a old, big tree. Everything seems so loud, the cries of nocturnal animals sound much more bleak and unnerving, not to mention the weird, chilling feeling of...something following you. Like there were a pair of eyes trained on you since a few weeks ago but you never mentioned this to your poor mother as you didn't want to worry her, but the feeling only amplified ever since you left your home and went on a trip to your grandmother.

You couldn't help the loud yelp you let out when suddenly a pair of glowing golden eyes appeared in the small clearing around the tree; a pair of glowing, unblinking orbs that seemed to be suspended in the air in the surrounding darkness, the weak fireplace you managed to make doing basically nothing to light up the area and your poor little heart started to beat like crazy when you noticed the eyes moving forward, closer and closer to you until the light finally caught what was moving towards you...or more like who.

It was an enormous man, easily over 7ft tall, his broad, bulky shoulders moving as he stood from the position he was in to his full height and those ominous glowing eyes still were unblinking as they stared at you like you were just some lamb and...you probably were.

The one thing that somehow stood out the most, even amidst literally everything else unnatural about this man, were a pair of ear on top of his head, which only now you noticed was covered in some sort of tattered old hood with holes for the eyes and ears, and a huge fluffy tail which was wagging faster anytime you seemed to look the man over, but what really brought it all together was his lower half...it-it was all fur. His legs were that of some bipedal wolf and in that moment a silent scream tried to make its way out of your throat; it was König, the brutal and unforgiving beast that resided in the surrounding forests, the one that people tell horror stories about around campfire and...he was here. He was here before you to tear you apart and leave nothing behind, not even bones.

Tears were streaming down your face, a look of utter defeat on it because after all, what more could you do? You can't possibly fight him, you can't outrun him, hiding is out of the picture too...You were ready to feel the unimaginable pain of those jaws locking themselves on your throat and draining you of your life but the you felt...warmth? A slick, warm feeling on your cheek and when you opened your eyes a bit you saw what it was. It was König, or more like his long tongue licking away at your cheek in an almost comforting matter, his wide unblinking eyes still trained on you though his pupils seemed to grow in size, now taking over most of the glowing yellow and when he deemed you to be clean of your tears, a large crooked nose with a scar running across it nudged into your cheek and took a deep sniff to get your scent. A stray thought ran through your mind when you took a closer look at his uncovered face and noticed another huge scar across his face and a few smaller ones, who or what in their right mind got close enough to inflict such wounds on someone like König?

When you stayed still and just stared at him wide eyed and out of breath König let out a deep growl like purr of content; he could hear your small aborted breaths still coming out quick and your heart fluttering in your chest like a small erratic bird but he could see that you were a tiny bit calmer now and not on the brink of hysterics like a few seconds before. He couldn't help but grin in delight, a nasty, wide thing that revealed rows of sharp teeth. He finally had you. He had you exactly where he wanted and now you were his. Well not completely yet, you two would need to mate first but still, everyone had to start somewhere right? For now he had you calmed down even for a bit, showed you that he wasn't a threat to you and wasn't going to hurt you. It was still only the night of the first day of your travels and he will offer to guide you, he couldn't possibly allow such a cute young lady to just wander around the deep dark forest all alone, right?

Of course he won't mention it that he will be herding you away from the path and instead guide you deeper and deeper into the heart of the woods where his den in. He won't mention it that he will be making very obvious and insistent advances at you, insisting on staying close at all times and wrapping his huge body around you at night for warmth, nosing and nudging at you to cover you in his scent and maybe make you a little bit hot under that deliciously low neckline of the dress that you're wearing, the cape in a lovely shade of red acting like a blanket to shield you away when König is nosing at your neck and bosom, greedy for all the tiny, shy, flustered noises you make, greedy for making you all hot and ready for him.

And of course he certainly won't mention to you about your poor old granny's corpse, rotting for weeks already in her old, decaying house where she died of some illness or old age. No, no, your new life is here, with him. Forever.

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #cod mw x reader #cod x reader #hybrid au #werewolf!könig #red riding hood au #könig x reader #könig #konig x reader

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obsessivevoidkitten · 6 months

Text

An Interesting Safari

Yandere Male Gnoll Pack x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Violent and painful noncon, gangbang, face fucking, gagging and slight suffocation due to face fucking, dacryphilia, spitroasting, cum swallowing, scent marking, piss marking, reader gets their insides piss marked, musk, spit as lube, kidnapping, non-sexual bondage, gagged and bound reader, escape attempt, chasing, shocked reader, broken reader, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 1.7k (I hope you enjoy this Halloween meal I have prepared for you all.)

You had wanted to go for years to see all the animals of East Africa and finally you had managed to make it happen.

But then at one of the rest stops you had spent a bit too long in the restroom and the vehicle full of tourists had just up and left without you.

Now you were stranded in the savanna with this little bathroom stop being the only structure for miles. You were about to make a U-turn back into the restroom to just hide in until the next tour arrived, but you heard a cackling laugh.

Thinking that someone was there you turned around and called out.

“Hello, is someone there?”

No response. You turned back towards the door and were pulled back suddenly. You were quickly gagged and bound before a large bag was wrapped around your head.

It felt as if you had been slung over the shoulders of someone very strong as your captor began hauling you back home. Even through the sack on your head you could smell his strong scent.

All you could perceive was a demented cackle but after a while your abductor spoke. Apparently he wasn’t alone. They spoke with frightening alien voices that were high pitched to match the laughing.

“I can’t believe we found a mate so easily!”

“Yeah! Normally when we smell a good one the humans get in that contraption and drive off before we can catch up.”

What were they? They spoke as if they were not human at all.

Then a third voice spoke up.

“I found 'em, I get to mate first!”

Oh god, they were going to rape you. They’d probably rape you then kill you and dump your corpse for some animals to rip apart. You couldn’t stop the hot tears from streaming down your cheeks, running as if trying to escape the fate you were sure you were about to experience.

“Hey, it smells scared.”

“I like it, it’s kinda cute.”

The one that was holding you stroked your back in what was probably meant to be a soothing gesture, but its claws lightly grazed you and only brought forth more fear.

“Don’t worry, we will keep you safe and warm and fed, and all nice and full of dick. What more could a little mate want??”

As terrifying as that last part was, at least it didn’t sound as if they were going to kill you.

But that night as they removed the bag around your head and the gag from your mouth you almost wanted to be dead.

You were outside of a cave. Terrifying hyena-like visages stared down at you. Tall and intimidating, muscular bodies completely covered in fur. One was black furred, one red, and one tawny and spotted. They wore only tattered loincloths.

They had rounded ears, hungry eyes, sharp teeth and claws. Clearly apex predators.

Gnolls. You never imagined that monsters such as these prowled the savanna in real life.

You were too shocked to even scream so you just cried silently. One of them leaned down and stroked the tears off of your face.

“No need to be scared, even if it is cute~ We won’t leave you behind like your own kind did.”

They all began removing their loincloths revealing large and strikingly thick cocks on each of them. You screamed as best you could through your still present gag at the sight. You didn’t want that in you.

They surrounded you, undid your binds, and took your clothes off. You didn’t bother with struggling, too scared of what their claws and teeth could do to you if you rebelled.

Then they did something you did not expect. They each grabbed their cock, aimed at you, and began pissing. Your entire body was drenched in the foul liquid.

One of them chuckled at your obvious disgust.

“Sorry, gotta mark our territory.”

They took you into the cave, drenched and naked, and finally removed the gag from your mouth. You knew screaming would do nothing to help you since there was surely no help nearby, so you resorted to the only option you had left available to you. Begging.

They ignored you and only laughed.

“Do you think we are stupid? When else are we gonna find a nice mate all ready to be taken?”

“Yeah, you’re ours and you can’t do anything about it.”

The spotted one, the one that seemed to love your dismay and tears, licked your cheek and placed you on what passed as bedding for these beasts. You were on your back with your legs on his shoulders, pleading and crying the entire time.

He didn’t go in dry, thankfully. He opted instead to sniff at your enticing entrance, giving it a few tentative licks, before going feral and lapping at it like it was the best thing he had ever tasted. Thick gobs of drool drenching your hole, his tongue twirling circles in you and stretching you out a bit.

When he couldn’t hold himself back anymore he jammed his dick right into you, hilting himself to his large testicles in one hard plunge.

You screamed as loudly as you were able as despite the stretching and slippery drool his thick member still opened you up painfully. You were sure you’d rip something.

With your mouth open from yelling, the black furred one took the opportunity to ram his sweaty dick right down your throat. You were dizzy not just from lack of oxygen but from the scent of his cock.

You gagged helplessly as your throat bulged out with each thrust, and you were sure your abused hole was bleeding by now with how hard the spotted gnoll was pounding into you.

They began using you like a two way fleshlight, establishing a rhythm. The spotted gnoll would pull you towards him by your hips and slam you down on his prick before the black furred gnoll would pull you the other way and impale your face and throat on his.

All the while the red one jerked himself off while watching.

You could barely cling to consciousness as you were so thoroughly abused on both ends but finally they both pumped into you. You were forced to swallow mouthful after mouthful of musky gnoll seed at the same time that a massive load was being dumped into you from the other end.

They both finally pulled out and you thought that your ordeal was finally over. You gasped for breath, shaking as you sobbed.

But you were not allowed much time to recover, you had forgotten about the red gnoll. His cock was slightly smaller, and he was less brutal in wielding it, going slow enough for you to manage to feel some pleasure in this whole horrible ordeal.

Though that was almost worse. At least when you felt pain you didn’t feel the guilt that came with your body betraying you.

You felt immensely dirty and ashamed as you came.

They all cuddled you and cleaned up the cum as it leaked down your soft human thighs. Running their hands over you and licking you affectionately as you cried yourself to sleep.

For over a week after that, you were on autopilot. Broken and in despair. The gnolls didn’t care, they were sure you’d come around eventually. As long as they had you there they were happy. They cooked for you, cleaned you, reapplied their “scent mark”, and cuddled you and told you how happy you made them.

And every few days they’d breed you again. Though they were a bit gentler given your weak human constitution. Bakari, the spotted one, was always the most eager to stuff you full of his seed. Kito, the gentlest one forced himself into you less often but cuddled you and babied you constantly. And the black-furred Akida behaved in a way that fell in between the other two.

But no matter who did what to you, you barely reacted.

But one day, you were no longer catatonic. But you didn’t let them know that.

Instead you waited until they were all asleep together one night. You carefully extracted yourself from their grasp. And you ran. As fast as your legs could carry you.

You had no idea what direction you were heading or where anything was, probably why they had put the bag over you when bringing you here, but that did not slow you down in the least. You didn’t care where you ended up or what happened to you as long as you were far away from your abusers.

But even that was too much to hope for. You were sure you had managed to escape but then you heard the cackling. You knew right away that there was no escaping them now. It was close and from all directions.

Suddenly you were on all fours, pushed into the dirt from behind before being forced into a face down ass up position.

“I thought you had learned to be good!” That was the unmistakable voice of Bakari, the most violent of the three, “I guess we have to REALLY show you your place.”

“You were being such a good mate for us, so well behaved.” That was Kito. He almost sounded hurt. Like you had betrayed him.

Bakari ripped your clothes off, shredding them into confetti, before lining up his dick with your hole and driving it right into you with no prep or lubrication. This was far more painful than the first time he had taken you.

He fucked you right into the dirt, thrust after thrust, taking a sadistic pleasure from your tears and pained wailing.

It was by far the worst thing you had ever felt.

He finally emptied his nuts into you and bit your neck hard as he did so. Blood welling up where he had bitten you. It would certainly scar so you would never forget who owned you.

But even then his cruelty wasn’t at an end. He kept his cock in you as he began draining his bladder into your pained hole.

“Gotta mark your insides as property too since what we were doing before clearly wasn’t enough for you.”

It burned all the sores and tears he had created from railing you so hard.

And he was just the first… you would have to endure the other two doing the exact same things to you before finally being given a break and taken home where they would nurse your bites and clean you up and treat you like their sweet little mate.

#yandere terato #yandere teratophilia #yandere x reader #monster boyfriend #yandere monster #gender neutral reader #male yandere x gn reader #monster harem #male harem #yandere male harem #My OCs #My OC Bakari #My OC Akida #My OC Kito #Yandere Gnoll Harem #Gn!reader x Monster Man Harem

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