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quaintii · 11 months

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Beg for Me.

Warnings: breeding kink, fangs kink, bdsm, sub!Miguel, Dom-fem!reader, teasing, edging, dirty talking, smut smut smut, using Miguel for your own pleasure, etc

Summary: you and Miguel try out something different for once.

You had Miguel strapped from his wrists on the bed frame and his legs on the corners of the bed with your webs, he couldn’t get out of them because your webs were extremely durable. You were enjoying this new view of him, it aroused you because you felt in complete control, you were finally capable of teasing him. Most of the time, Miguel usually had the upper hand during sex. You practically begged him to switch roles and try something new for the both of you. Miguel had some black loose sweatpants with a loose gray-shirt. “I mean seriously, what are you going to do? I look ridiculous right now.” He said, letting out a groan. “I mean I haven’t even started yet..so there’s more yet to come.” You said while heading inside the bathroom to change into kinky lingerie. Miguel loves it when you dress up all dolly for him, when he sees you exit the bathroom, he can’t remove his eyes off your body. “Ay mi reina, are you trying to tease me now? That won't work on me, mi tesoro.” He smirks.

You strut your way to the bed, palming his chest. “Y de que sabes eso tu, Miguel? Hoy te voy hacer mío..” (“And what do you know, Miguel? i’m going to make you mine.”)You place yourself on top of his lower abdomen, giving him slow, passionate kisses. You wanted to hear Miguel to beg for more taste of you, so you cut off the kiss. You lower your hips to his crotch, you begin slowly teasing him by straddling your hips against his. You let out small groans as you feel him hardening, you look in his low hooded eyes with his parted lips, just craving every inch of your pussy engulfing his cock. “Ya te quiero devorar, guapa…dios mio, no me puedo controlar cuando estoy contigo.” Miguel tries his best to buck his hips to get more friction to feel your soaked pussy. You continued humping him, clothed.

His bulge rubbed on your clit simultaneously. Your breathing started heaving, wanting for more and wanting to give into complete submission but no, this time was different. You moved your body to his knees, removed his sweatpants to ankle length.

“God, you’re so fucking big, amor.” You slur as you kiss the head of his tip, making him shiver and groans which emit more arousal to your cunt. You sloppily lick his balls, cupping them into your hands and licking his dick up and down. “Mierda, ya basta con estos juegos..” He said while he stared down at you (Fuck, stop with these games..”) “This is my turn to play, Miguelito.” You say and you take his length inside of your warm mouth. Miguel rolls his eyes back as you bob your head up and down on his cock, slurping him up like a popsicle. Hearing his groans makes your cunt beg for some friction so you grind your pussy on his legs. He bumps his lips on your cunt, making you moan.

“Keep sucking my dick like that, mi tesoro.” He groaned. His cock kept twitching whenever your throat would suck him even deeper, your throat emitting moans tightened your mouth around his length. You feel his cock start twitching inside of your mouth, knowing he’s close so you remove your mouth from his length. “Fuck! Why did you fucking do that, I was getting close.” He said disappointedly. “Yo hago las reglas, mi vida. Me gusta usar tu cuerpo.” (I make the rules, my love. I love using your body.”) You remove your bra and underwear and settle your soaked cunt on top of Miguel’s mouth.

“Suck my pussy, Miguel. I want you to devour me, eat me out..fuck..” You moan as Miguel sucks your clit and licks your pussy, nibbling on the lips. You toy with your breasts, mendling with your nipples which makes you more sensitive.

Slurping sounds and moans are all that’s heard, you buck your cunt deeper onto Miguel’s face, riding it. His nose touches your clit, making you arch your back. He slides his warm tongue inside your cunt, eating you out like you wanted. You started riding his face so hard, he couldn’t breathe but couldn’t care less because he wanted to make you cum. “Mhmmf, fu-fuck Miguel, I’m a-almo-” You were cut off by a sharp snap which sends your blood rushing to your cunt, making you spasm and squish Miguel’s head more. His tongue still lapped on your cunt which made you become overstimulated, making you mumble over your words.

You held your hands on the bed frame, holding yourself up and trying not to completely flop on top of Miguel. You feel another orgasm approaching, your hips impulsively riding back and forth to stimulate your clit more and ride out your orgasm. Your back arched as you keep your pussy spasm and pulse uncontrollably as you choke on your moans, a couple of tears streaming down your face. “Mhmmf..nghn..” You finally lay back and let your orgasm take over your body, making you numb. Miguel’s face was streaked with your juices. “Sabes tan rica, chiquita.” (“You taste so good, little one.”) He said as he licked his lips, savoring your juices.

Miguel wants to take control over you, his animalistic side wants to devour you whole and have you beg and whine under his cock, deep inside your cunt. His cock is hungry for some attention, twitching uncontrollably because he desperately wants to feel your touch.

His tip being red angry and the rest of his length deep brown. Pre-cum leaking out of his tip, you lick a bit of it off and he leans his head back on top of the pillow. He’s so touch-deprived at this point. “Corazon, please let me fuck your fucking pussy already..” He said in short sighs. “Beg for it, bebe. I want you to fucking beg for me to suck your big cock inside of my wet pussy.” You say while you stare at him, only having lust in your eyes.

“Por favor ma…quiero tu cono..te quiero saber todo tu cuerpo. Porfa cariño, yo ya no guanto.” (“Please ma, I want your cunt..I want to taste all of your body. Please sweetheart, I can’t take it anymore.”) Miguel said gruffly. “Lo que tu quieres, Miguel..” (“Whatever you want, Miguel..”)

You slam yourself on top of his cock, all of the air in your lungs leaving. The both of you moan and lean your heads back. Miguel bit his lips hard enough to draw blood. He seemed to harden and grow even more inside of your pussy, pulsing and twitching. He tries bucking his hips up to feel more of you but he can’t really make any movement so you lay your hands on his chest, moving your hips with a steady pace. Your plushy, soft walls mold into his cock. Your pussy melting and devouring all of him, his dick hitting that soft, gushy spot that had you wailing and moaning.

Making Miguel beg for you to cum around his dick, for the both of you to cum together. You both kept moaning, the atmosphere becoming hot as sweat droplets ran across your body and Miguel’s chest. You leaned onto his chest, making his dick reach deeper than ever. Your head leans back and your eyes go to the back of your skull, your mouth agape. SIlently crying as your moans keep choking on your throat. You grabbed a hold on his hair and the kiss was hungry, desperate. You kept eating each other's mouths off, your tongues swirling. You felt yourself coming to a close and you wanted Miguel to take control of you, to thrust his cum deep inside of your womb so you cut off your webs and Miguel immediately carried you chest to chest in a Nelson position. Your ankles resting on his shoulders as one of his hands landed on your hips, the other rubbing circles on your pussy.

You couldn’t catch your breath as you kept letting out loud, strained moans. Tears trickling down your face, Miguel grabbing your chin to face him. The hot skin to skin contact makes you both groan in pleasure. Your cunt kept clenching around his cock whenever he would whine while nibbling on your ears and sinking his fangs in your neck. “Cum for me, princess. Cum with me, I want to pump my cum inside of you and make a baby of your sweet pussy. F-fuck, s’good babe…you’re s’tight around my cock.” He moaned into your ears, which finally made you explode with euphoric pleasure. Your body stood twitched and more tears came out of your eyes as the orgasm took over your whole system. Miguel still kept his pace as he thrusted a couple more times inside of your pussy, making your fingernails dig deep enough on his back, drawing out blood and leaving bruises for later. He finally came inside of your cunt, painting your soft, plushy walls, white.

A/N: Writing this literally made my pussy throb ☠️, hope you guys enjoyed this! Please leave more suggestions for me in my request box! I can do other characters too!! <3

Taglist: @thatfictionalmexicanwife

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman 2099 smut #my husband #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel ohara smut

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icyharrington · 1 year

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haii okay this is #82 on the prompt list for steve, requested also by my lovely boothang @wroteclassicaly !!

“this is a one time thing.”

contains: daddy kink, blowjobs, deepthroating/face fucking, dirty talk, u suck steve’s dick at work lol

“You’re- fuck- crazy,” Steve Harrington breathes against your mouth as you shove him back into the supply closet of Scoops Ahoy with enough force to knock several cleaning products off of the shelf. He goes to pick them up off the floor, but you stop him in his tracks, yanking him back to you by the front of his dorky uniform. “Fuck. We have to be quick or Robin’s gonna kick my ass.”

“You are so cute when you’re nervous,” you coo, standing on your tiptoes so you can wrap your arms behind his neck. “Especially in your little outfit.”

“Gee, thanks, (y/n)! That totally wasn’t emasculating at all,” he mutters bitterly, before plucking his hat off and flinging it off to the side. “There. Better? Now you can see my hair in all its glory.”

“No, I liked it!” you protest, pouting at him the way you always do when you’re being particularly bratty. “I’ve always wanted to blow you while you’re in your work uniform.”

He scrunches up his face in a mixture of apparent disgust and confusion, which makes you laugh. “Why?”

“I dunno. Why not?” You sink to your knees, unbuckling his belt. He licks his lips as he watches you, the anxiety on his face transforming into something entirely different, but all too familiar.

“I can’t believe you visited me at my job just to do this,” he murmurs, although he doesn’t sound particularly vexed. It sounds more like he’s in awe of your boldness, if anything. “You are so fucking bad.”

“I should visit you here more often,” you think aloud, as your fingers work his shorts down to gather around his ankles. He’s wearing a pair of plain white boxers underneath, which you think look sexy on him despite their plainness, but then again, you literally think he’s sexy in a cheesy sailor costume.

He’s frowning, but it’s obvious that he’s trying very hard to maintain his rule-abiding facade. “No, (y/n). This is a one time thing, okay? I could lose my job.”

You stick your tongue out at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest defiantly. “You’re really going to deprive your girlfriend of two different types of free cream?”

You say this to make Steve laugh, and it works; he’s shaking his head incredulously, arms lifting to fold behind his head as he grins down at you. “You are such a fucking slut, (y/n). I mean, jeez!”

Reaching into his underwear, you take hold of this gradually strengthening erection, working it back and forth in your fist for a few strokes until he’s fully hard. Steve’s cock is big, and even though you’re well aware of that fact, it’s still such a shock each time you wrap your fingers around his thick length. You love to tease him there, trailing your fingertips up and down the protruding veins that travel through, until he’s swearing lowly under his breath. “Yeah, but you love it, though.”

“Yeah, ya got me there.” He takes a fistful of (h/c) hair as you strip off his boxers, taking him into your mouth without hesitation. “Fuck. You’re my little slut. Can’t get enough of my big dick, can you?”

You attempt to shake your head as you move your head up and down his length, placing your hands on his muscular thighs in order to take him deep, just how he likes. His head lolls back as he lets out a hoarse groan from the back of his throat, bucking his hips against your face until you’re sputtering. “Yeah, I like you like this. It’s the only time you’re not running that bratty-ass mouth.”

Since you’re unable to retort, you shoot a venomous glare in his direction, though you continue to work on his cock with your mouth. He has a firm hold on the back of your head, preventing you from drawing back when he begins to slide his cock further into your narrow throat. “Yeah, good girl. Take all of it.”

He keeps you in place as he shifts himself back and forth, fucking your face at a leisurely tempo; and, like his little whore, you stay kneeling for him, hands folded primly in your lap. It’s a dynamic that you love- you, the devious, mastermind submissive, and Steve, the flustered dominant.

You can’t do much besides bat your eyelashes up at him as he essentially uses your mouth to masturbate, his jaw clenching as he knits his brows in concentration. He’s going so hard that there’s saliva dribbling down your chin and black smudges of mascara ringing your eyes, but you’re too wrapped up in his taste to care how badly he’s wrecking you.

“Fuck- yeah, that’s it. Take it nice and deep for daddy,” he encourages, his breath lodging in his throat for a brief moment. He loosens his grip on your hair, allowing you to regain some control of the situation. You decide to relocate your mouth to his balls for a change in scenery, reveling in his frantic moans as your tongue laps aimlessly at the sensitive skin there. “Fuck, (y/n). That’s my good little slut. You gonna swallow all my cum, baby?”

You nod eagerly, between sloppy strokes of your tongue against him. “You know I will, daddy.”

“Shit…” he mumbles, looping a portion of your hair around his hand and using it to steer you back to your original position. “Open your mouth.”

You do as you’re told, opening wide as he angles his cock over your mouth, pumping himself with his fist until his stomach muscles contract, a telltale sign that he’s about to cum. He manages a breathless, “wider,” before he releases his load into your waiting mouth, his orgasm accompanied by a series of strangled grunts and moans.

Steve is so sexy when he cums, with his plump lips bitten red and forehead slick with afterglow; you watch him adoringly as he rides out his orgasm, mouth falling open to call your name.

You swallow his cum, letting the salty-sweet taste coat your mouth as it slides down your throat. Once it’s gone, you proudly display your empty mouth for Steve to let him know that you’ve done your job.

It takes a moment for him to snap back into reality, his eyes half-lidded and dazed as they scan his surroundings, and then you. He strokes your hair with his massive hands, humming, “that’s my girl.”

He redresses himself as you stand up and retrieve his hat for him, which you find overturned beside the mop bucket. Your knees are sore and will likely be covered in bruises tomorrow, but you don’t mind a few bumps here and there if it means pleasing Steve. “Do you think Robin’s wondering where you are yet?”

“No,” comes a familiar singsong voice from the other side of the closet door, and you and Steve whip your heads to look at each other, eyes wide. Of course Robin had overheard the whole encounter, and had chosen not to say anything until now. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell! As long as you promise to wash your hands before you get back to work, Stevey-poo.”

Robin laughs obnoxiously, and you’re caught between drinking the nearest cleaning chemical or busting into hysterics yourself.

Steve, on the other hand, looks like he wants to die, a pained expression painted across his crimson-flushed cheeks.

“God fucking damn it, (y/n).”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #joe keery #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #mine #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine

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megxplryxb · 1 year

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Roommate Romance

Pairings: Roommate!Steve x Reader

Notes: Apologies for the long delay, I've had some personal stuff going on lately so thank you all for sticking with me! <3

Disclaimer: Not my gif

It was a little after 9pm on an uneventful Saturday evening, Steve was lying across the shoddy leather couch in the small but cosy living room in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants he had put on after his shower. He groaned in frustration as he flicked through the channels trying to find something interesting to watch, having long given up on reading some boring ass book that Eddie had given him when he heard a key turn in the door of the apartment he shared with you and Robin.

The latter had left to stay in Vickie’s house twenty minutes ago but Steve assumed Robin had forgotten something and come back for it 'cause he wasn't expecting you home for another couple of hours at least. He flinched a little when he heard the door open and close with a louder than usual bang, hearing heels click through the hallway and towards the kitchen. He knew it was you immediately, the scent of your jasmine perfume filling his nostrils as he pushed himself up from the couch to follow you down the hallway to make sure everything was alright, noting he hadn't heard a second pair of feet follow you inside.

Earlier at the video store, Robin had told Steve about a date you were going on that evening with a guy you’d met while waitressing at Enzo’s during the week. Steve had tried his best to hide his jealousy when Robin began to describe the guy, tuning out her ramblings once she mentioned that he was a “total babe”. She knew that Steve had a crush on you, noticing his attempts to flirt with you on a regular basis but she had made him promise that he wouldn't make a move on you, because she didn't want things to get awkward with you all living under the same roof. But fuck, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted to bend the rules from time to time and sometimes, he even thought that was exactly what you wanted him to do too.

Steve leaned his shoulder against the doorway of the small, compact, kitchen, watching as you unsuccessfully reached for a wineglass on the top shelf of the cupboard over the sink. He bit on the corner of his lip as your tiny black dress lifted ever so slightly, about to reveal parts of you that he knew he shouldn't be staring at and if he didn't look away now, he didn't know how he would explain the tent growing in his pants when you eventually turned to face him.

"Need a hand?" He smirked, as you let out a small yelp, not expecting Steve to be home already and definitely not expecting to see him standing there in just his sweatpants.

"Jesus Christ, Steve! You almost gave me a heart attack!" You pant, placing a hand across your chest, trying to look away from his bare chest.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. God princess, you're in heels and you still can't reach." He teased as you shot him a glare.

"No shit Sherlock, are you going to help or just stand there staring at me?" You questioned, rolling your eyes at the boy.

"I mean honestly, it's a pretty good view." Steve flirted, while you began to feel the heat rush to your face, hoping you had enough make up on to cover your flushed cheeks.

"Will you just quit being a perv and help me already?"

"A please would be nice." He replied, still smirking at you.

"Harrington, I swear to god..."

"What? It's just one little word, it's not even that hard to say." Steve laughed, knowing he was getting under your skin and you were in no mood for his jokes.

"Forget it, I'll get it myself." You stated, turning back to the sink, one knee on the counter top as you began to pull yourself up.

"Hey, hey, what are you doing, are you trying to break your damn ankle?" Steve entered the kitchen, his hands rushing to grab your waist and pull you back down again.

"STEVE!"

"Relax sweetheart, I got it.” He whispered, setting you down, moving behind you, one hand on your shoulder, his toned chest pressing lightly against your back and you prayed he didn't feel the shiver that went all the way down your spine as he reached up for the glass. You had to remind yourself to breath with the feeling of him so close to you, his skin touching yours. You could smell his cologne, the shampoo from his still damp hair and his usual boyish scent that was nothing other than Steve.

"All yours princess, you're welcome by the way." Steve teased, finally handing you the wineglass as your lips pulled in to a smile. You secretly wondered if he knew the effect he had on you, cause you just couldn’t stay mad at him for long. Not when he looked like that, staring at you like he was challenging you to make the next move.

"Why are you home anyway, weren't you working tonight?" You asked, shaking your thoughts away, leaning against the counter, letting out an instant sigh of relief once you removed the heels you'd been wearing all evening. Steve swallowed hard hearing the little moan of pleasure fall from your mouth with the feeling of the cold tiles under your sore feet as you tossed the shoes in the corner.

"Uh, Keith let me go early, the store was pretty dead." He answered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"That doesn't sound like Keith." You replied confused, knowing Keith wasn't that nice of a boss.

"Well, it might have had something to do with the new porno movies being delivered to the store tonight. Think he wanted first dibs." He chuckled as you scrunched your nose in disgust. “Yeah, that sounds more like Keith."

"Anyways, wasn't expecting you home for a while either, Robin mentioned you had a hot date tonight." Steve teased, folding his arms as you let out a sarcastic laugh, moving by him to take a bottle of wine from the fridge.

"Yeah, I thought so too. Turns out, not so hot." You reveal, pouring yourself a drink, taking a quick sip as Steve kept his eyes on you. Selfishly, he was glad that your date turned out to be a bust, because the thought of you being out with some guy that wasn't him had been driving Steve crazy all evening.

"Wanna talk about it?" He asked, before you walked back to the fridge grabbing a beer and offering it to him. "Wanna get a little drunk first?"

"Y..yeah, sure." He nodded, trying to take the bottle from your hand but you pulled it back, smirking at your friend. "Not so fast Harrington, go put on a shirt, then you can have this."

"Why, am I distracting you, princess?" Steve winked, heading to his room, throwing on the first t-shirt he could find before following you towards the living room.

Of course he was distracting you and you cursed Robin for making you promise never to cross that line with her best friend all those months ago when you decided to live together. You liked Steve, a lot, more than Robin even realised. He was everything you'd usually look for in a boyfriend and more but since nothing could ever happen between you, you'd made it your mission to find someone else and forget about Steve Harrington. That turned out to be easier said that done when he walked around shirtless on a daily basis.

An hour had passed and you and Steve were finally starting to feel the effects of the alcohol you had been consuming. When you couldn’t decide on a movie to watch, he played some music from the pretty expensive stereo his parents had given him as a house warming gift when he moved out. Steve was slouched on one side of the little couch while you occupied the other half, lying length ways so your feet were slumped across his legs, a pillow resting on your tummy for comfort, still wearing your dress.

It was nice to have a night with just Steve, it was never just the two of you with Robin, Vickie, Eddie or the kids usually hanging out with you both too.

“So come on, tell me, what happened with your date?” Steve asked, bringing the beer bottle to his lips as you groaned.

"I don't think I'm drunk enough yet." You muttered, pouring more wine in to your glass.

"Was it really that bad?" He asked as he watched your face change. "It was worse than bad, Steve."

"Worse than Cassie Peterson throwing up on me in the movie theatre?" He questioned as you widened your eyes in shock, almost spitting out your wine. "Oh my god! You never told me that?"

"I didn't tell anybody! It was so embarrassing, the whole place was staring at us." He explained as you laughed out loud.

"Is that why you never called her again? Robin was dying to know what happened between you." You teased as he began to explain himself, running a hand through his brown locks.

"She ruined my favourite sweater! Of course I never called her again.” Steve responded, taking a swig from his bottle of beer.

"It's not like she meant to throw up on you, Steve. I bet she felt way worse about it than you did." You giggled at your friend's childish behaviour.

"Hey, I was a total gentleman. I got her some water, made sure she got home safe, all while stinking of vomit I might add! I could've just left her there, I mean she literally barfed all over me." He joked but you knew Steve would never actually do that to anyone.

"She must have been mortified!" You cringed, placing a hand over your face from second hand embarrassment.

"Oh that wasn't even the worst part, she actually leaned in for me to kiss her goodnight when I dropped her home!" Steve revealed as you tried hard not to gag.

"Oh Steve, please tell me you didn't..."

"Of course I didn't! I lied and told her I had a coldsore, then ran back to my car." He chuckled, opening another beer as you threw your head back in hysterics. "Wow, I feel sooo much better about my date now.” You sighed, sipping your wine.

"I swear to Christ if you ever tell Robin that story, I’ll never give you a ride to work again.” Steve threatened, smiling at you.

“I cross my heart Harrington, I’ll take it to the grave with me.” You say sweetly as he rolls his eyes. “Please, we both know you’re gonna tell Robin the minute she walks in that door tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” You smile as he shakes his head.

"Anyways princess, enough about my horrible dating life, time to hear about yours.” Steve clapped, while you sat up on the couch, pulling your legs under you, taking a deep breath.

“Ok, so I met him a couple of days ago in work, he came in to pick up lunch for his Boss and he seemed totally nice, y'know? Very handsome, good dresser, nice hair..." You said as Steve began to cough, looking overly offended. "Not as nice as yours Steve, don't worry." You reassured, patting his head.

"Just making sure, princess."

"Anyway, we got talking, flirted a little and he eventually asked if he could take me to dinner. So he picked me up for our date here, gave me a bunch of flowers, opened the car door….”

"So far, he sounds like a real asshole." Steve smirked sarcastically, before pressing his lips to the bottle of beer.

"Guess where he took me for dinner?” You said as Steve tried to read your face. “I dunno, some fancy restaurant with valet parking?”

“He took me to Enzo's, Steve, the place I work five days a week, on my day off!" You whine as Steve started to chuckle at your reaction.

"Maybe he was trying to be nice y'know? Like, maybe he thought you'd feel safer going there with him because you didn't know him and....”

"He took me there because he thought they'd give us a discount." You interrupted, folding your arms. "Did they?" Steve asked as you shook your head.

"Of course not, it wasn't expensive anyway, we didn't even make it past the appetisers." You revealed, drinking the last of the wine in your glass.

"He was just that irresistible, huh?" Steve joked as you playfully nudged him with your foot.

"Totally, I just couldn't wait to rip his clothes off. All that discount talk was too much of a turn on.” You gagged, sticking your tongue out.

“It could’ve been worse…” Steve stated as you wagged your finger at him. “Oh it was, I’m not done yet.” You giggled, pouring more wine in to your glass.

“This elderly couple came in a couple of minutes after us and his whole demeanour changed when he saw them.”

“Parents? Oh Jesus, did they join you for dinner or somethin’?” Steve questioned as you placed a hand over his mouth to stop him from speaking again.

“They weren’t his parent’s. They were his parent’s neighbours and when the lady came over to say hello to him, he introduced me as a work colleague.”

“That’s weird.” Steve said, raising a brow.

“Right? So, I asked him why he said that and he said that she likes to gossip and he’s very private, I accepted that, I’m pretty private too. But then! He left the table to go to use the restroom and the lady came over again and….”

“Did she want a discount too?” The boy joked as you threw a pillow at his face. “Steve! I’m trying to finish my story!” You hiccuped as he held his hands up, holding back another laugh. “I’m sorry, go ahead princess, tell me what happened.”

“She asked me if I was really his work colleague so, I said no because obviously something weird was going on right? Then she told me that he’s already in a relationship and had only proposed to the poor girl two months ago!” You revealed, watching the shock form on Steve’s face.

“You’re fucking kidding me?” He said as you shook your head. “I’m totally serious.”

“What did you do?” Steve asked, hanging on to your every word. His blood starting boil as you continued your story, all his instincts telling him to go find the guy and kick his ass.

“I thanked her for telling me, ordered them an expensive bottle of champagne and told the guys to charge that asshole for it!” You smiled proudly. “Man, what a creep! How did he think he was going to get away with something like that in a small town like this?"

“Honestly, I have no idea. He even came after me, telling me we could finish the date somewhere else!” You shivered as Steve scoffed in disbelief.

"Why didn't you call me to come pick you up?" He asked, looking at you a little more seriously than he had been all night. “I thought you were working.” You shrugged, pulling a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You could’ve called the store, you know I would have come for you, right?” Steve says softly, placing his warm hand on your knee while you nod your head. “I know you would have, Steve." You blush, noticing that he hadn't moved his hand away, still looking at you intently.

"Anyways, cheers to no more bad dates!" You tease, raising the almost empty wine glass to clink with Steve's bottle as he lets out a small chuckle. "Honestly, I don't think I could handle going on any more bad dates.”

"We should totally make a pact, you know, like if we're both still single by the time we're thirty five, we'll just marry each other!" You jokingly suggest as Steve shakes his head.

"Thirty five huh? That's over a decade away sweetheart..." He huffs.

"So?" You laugh, shrugging your shoulders.

"So, that's a lot of sex to be missing out on having with you." The boy admits, eyes widening when he realises what he's just said.

"Oh really? And what makes you think I'd have sex with you?" You challenge, raising a brow at the boy who smirks confidently at you.

"Well theoretically speaking princess, you'd be my wife, so I'd kind of hope that if you were having sex with anybody, It'd be with me."

"You're so cocky sometimes, you know that?" You roll your eyes as he finishes the end of the bottle. "Come on princess, like you never thought about it before." Steve teases as your cheeks begin to flush.

"Thought about what?" You question trying to play dumb. You knew exactly what he meant.

"Us." He answers, eyes completely focused on your reaction.

"I can't say I have." You lie and Steve knows it , because he moves closer to your side of the couch, brushing strands of hair out of your face and he swears he hears a little whimper from you when he touches your cheek.

"So, if I said I wanted to kiss you right now would you let me? Cause I'm not sure I can wait until I'm thirty five for something to happen between us." Steve whispers as you clench your thighs, biting on your bottom lip.

"Steve we can't, I want to, I do, but I promised Robin I..."

"She made you promise too huh?" He smirks as you nodded a yes. "She said she didn't want things to get complicated." You whine while Steve presses his forehead to yours, pulling you in to his lap.

"Sweetheart, I think we're already there, don't you?"

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington angst #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #king steve #steve the hair harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #stranger things smut #steve stranger things #stranger things

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axelsagewrites · 7 months

Text

Danerys Targaryen*My Queen

Pairing: danerys x f!reader (set in Meereen)

Word count: 813

Kintober Day ten: throne/semi-public sex with Danerys Targaryen – being the queen is a stressful job and it is your job to help your queen relax even if that means risking getting caught

Warnings: mentions of war, throne sex, semi public sex, f!receiving oral smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

“My queen you must rest,” you warned the blonde as she stood over the battle table with her advisors.

She shot you a nasty look, her eyes quickly darting back to the table, “War does not stop so I may rest,”

You grit your teeth, doing your best to respect your queen as you considered your conflicting orders. After all it was her that had made you her personal lady, the one who was to take care of her wellbeing. Whether that be to make sure she ate or bathed or even at times just to breathe.

Tyrion shot a concerned glance at you before his eyes trailed back to the table, “Perhaps if we came back to this with fresh minds,” he said, his eyes glancing around the room, “we would be more effective,”

Danerys sighed, walking away from the table silently to stand facing out a window. You turned to the men, nodding at them to leave which they silently did, muttering their graces as they left. Once the door was shut you watched Danerys’s sigh, her shoulders slumping down.

You walked up to her, placing your hands on her shoulders and soon she slumped back into your arms. “You must relax my queen. And that is an order,”

“I am your queen,” she said, no malice behind her voice but a distant silence, “it is my job to protect you my love,”

“And it is mine to keep you sane,” you said, ignoring how she stiffened in your arms. A few moments of silence past as you gazed over the streets of Mereen. The sun was setting, the darkening and for a moment it finally looked peaceful in the streets. “I have an idea,” you finally said, taking her arm and leading her out the room with no explanation.

“How is this supposed to help me relax?” she questioned, her eyebrows knitting in confusion as you sent the guards out the throne room to guard the doors. Daenerys took your hand as you led her up the stairs, refusing to answer her question just yet.

“Sit,” you told her, and she did without question. At this time of night no one roamed the halls apart from the guards but as you sunk to your knees a brief wash of panic covered her face, “No one is awake my queen, only us,” you said, your hands moving to her ankles, slowly moving your way up and pulling the dress up with it.

“What if someone walks in?” she asked, her pale eyes darting to the doors.

You shook your head, pushing the dress slowly up her thighs, “You are the queen, khaleesi of the great grass sea. You can do whatever you wish my queen however,” you said, kissing her knee gently, “right now you are tense. You cannot rule if you cannot even think,”

“So, what do you propose?” she asked, her voice suddenly quiet and her eyes locked on yours as you led soft kisses up her thighs.

You held back a smirk at her words, “I propose you let me help you unwind,” you said, hands trailing up under her dress to feel her bare hips, “Let me serve you my queen,”

Your movements paused, your eyes gazing up to hers waiting for permission. After a moment she finally nodded. You wasted no time, your lips diving in to kiss her already wet cunt. you heard her gasps, but you did not wait as you licked a stripe up her cunt, before your lips soon found her clit.

You sucked on it gently, massaging her bundle of nerves with your tongue and relishing in the quiet moans she let out. Your fingers sneaked up, teasing her hole for a moment before finally slipping two in. her hand soon found your hair, gripping it gently as you felt her hips buck against your face.

Deliberately you let out a small moan, letting your mouth vibrate around her clit making her thighs clamp around your head. You curled your fingers precisely and teasingly slow as you heard her murmur your name over and over like a song.

“Don’t stop,” she began to mumble, and you could feel her arching her back, pushing her cunt against your face. “Please,” your queen moaned like a commoner as your tongue continued its mission.

“Fuck,” she gasped, and you could feel her body stiffening under your touch. Your movements slowed, your mouth finally falling away so you could look up at the woman who slumped on the throne with a dazed expression.

“How do you feel my queen?” you asked, slipping your fingers out and moving to stand.

Daenerys reached out to take your hand, pulling you into her lap, “Much better now,” she smiled, her hands moving to rest on your hips, “but I will feel even better once I repay the favour,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy @valeskafics

#game of thrones smut #game of thrones show #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #daenerys targaryen #daenerys targaryen imagine #daenerys targaryen smut #daenerys targaeryen x reader #got smut #got x reader #got imagine #daenerys stormborn #daenerys stormborn smut #kinktober

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strawb3rrystar · 3 months

Text

Until you're purple.

Pairing(s): Yandere! Rise! Donnie x GN! Reader

Warnings: Abuse, Reader tries to escape but is caught, Forced isolation, Self-harm, Reader going through mental deterioration, Blood, Toxic relationship/dynamic, alluding to sexual things

Word count: 1,400

✰Masterlist

"Donnie-" you start, wincing as he tightens his grip on your wrist.

"How dare you..." He pulls you forward harshly, making you stumble. "Try to escape..."

He drags you into his lab, shutting and locking the door behind you. "Am I not doing enough?" He asks, letting go of your wrist.

"I thought after the last five times you'd learn, but clearly you haven't." He walks over to his desk, looking over his blueprints. There was a long silence before he spoke again.

"You wouldn't mind being a test subject for me, correct?" Donnie asks, glancing at you. He walks over to the locked door that he forbids you from going in.

"I hoped I wouldn't have to put you in here, but clearly I have to take more drastic measures." He holds his hand out for you to take. He was your boyfriend after all, why wouldn't you trust him? You take his hand, letting him pull you forward.

"You know I love you, right?" You nod your head in agreement, as he presses a kiss to your forehead. "Good, good."

He opens the door, pulling you inside. You look around the room when he flicks the light on. A small round rug, a small round mirror on the wall, a cot tucked in the corner, a small bookcase with a handful of books for entertainment, and a door that you could only guess led to a bathroom.

"What is this...?" You ask, Donnie gripping your shoulders, almost uncomfortably.

"Solitary confinement," He replies "I want to test what will happen if I leave you in here for a day. Alright, baby?" He rubs your shoulders soothingly. You were never one to disagree with Donnie, so you nod your head, your throat feeling suddenly dry. You didn't even notice when Donnie's touch left your skin, the sound of a door shutting and locking behind you.

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

It had been a day, right? You had only been in here for a day, right? That's what Donnie said, what he promised to you.

You run your fingers through the fluff of the rug for the hundredth time. If you rub your skin against it hard and fast enough, you could give yourself a rug burn. That thought crossed your mind multiple times. The sound of the door unlocking pulled you out of your trance.

The sight of Donnie made your eyes light up. You immediately get up and rush towards him, tears welding in your eyes as you feel his cool skin on yours.

"Awww. Did you learn your lesson, baby?" He coos, wiping your tears away.

"Y-yes..." You reply, your voice hoarse from not having a drop of water in almost twenty-four hours.

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

You run your fingers over your smooth leg. The patch of skin your fingers touched had turned a purplish blue. The slight pressure of your fingers causes you to wince in pain. You were honestly just glad it wasn't your ankles.

Since your last escape attempt, Donnie's rules have gotten much stricter. Something that you saw coming. But you didn't expect him to be so aggressive. All you were doing was having a short conversation with Mikey and the next thing you remember was Donnie dragging you into his lab.

He really didn't mean to throw you to the ground that hard, or kick your leg till your blood pooled on the floor. He wouldn't stop apologizing while he bandaged your leg. Getting down on the ground and begging for your forgiveness. And you gave it to him, his sweet, naive darling who would do anything for him.

Donnie saved you after all. Saved you from the cruel outside that crawled with Yokai and The Foot. He was your hero, your idol, your savior.

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

You cried, sobbed, curling your knees to your chest. You had messed up and you were back in solitary confinement again. It has been three days since you last felt the touch of your boyfriend. He slips your meals through a slot in the metal door without a word. All this because you refused to wear a collar.

Your eyes moved around the room, landing on the bookcase. You get up from the cot, picking up a decently sized book, with a bright blue cover.

Your screams of pain echoed through the lab, jerking Donnie out of his work. He rushes into the room, finding you on the ground, blood pouring out of your head. Blue cover splattered with crimson red.

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

"My sweet darling." Donnie kisses your neck, his grip firm on the chain attached to the bright purple collar. "You'll never leave me, right?" He presses on one of your fresh bruises, making you yelp in pain.

"Y-yes... Donnie..." You sniffle, and a sympathetic look crosses his face. "Shhh, baby" He holds you close "Don't cry."

Once he calms you down he goes back to kissing your neck, hands rubbing your sides. Donnie's fingers gently lift up your shirt, revealing a slight bit of your lower abdomen. You immediately grab his wrist, stopping him. Your eyes shut as you shake your head.

"Excuse me?" His browbones press together giving you a questioning but pissed-off look. You shake your head again.

Donnie grabs your wrist and pulls up from his bed, dragging you towards the door. That dreaded door. You plead, beg him not to put you in there. But he shoves you in anyway, you land on the ground from the force of the push.

"Too fucking late."

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

Donnie didn't even flinch when he heard glass shattering. He assumed you were still mad at him, as you had been banging on the mental door for a few hours now. But when he heard your scream, one louder than when you smashed your head against the book, his body tensed.

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

Donnie slowly opened the metal door, finding you in a pool of your own blood. Mirror shattered on the ground, your fist bloody from punching it. The chunk of glass was stabbed into your arm. Large gash running from your wrist to your bicep.

"Why...? Why did you do this, sweetie?" He asks, kneeling beside you, getting a good look at your dazed expression. "You..." He hears you mumble "I need you, Dee."

He blinks a few times, a confused expression on his face. "I don't ever want to be away from you." You say, tears running down your cheeks. He gently kisses your lips "It's okay, baby. I'm here now and I'll never leave."

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

Raph stares at the door to Donnie's lab, debating whether or not he should knock. Even if he did, Donnie refused to answer the door. He walked back out where his brothers were, worried out of his chasm. He watched Leo skateboard on the ramp for a few seconds before speaking up.

"Guys. I'm worried about Donnie. He hasn't come out of his lab in a few days."

"Relax, Raph." Leo was the first to chime in, bringing his skating to a halt. "Yeah, I'm sure he's fine," Mikey says, giving Raph a reassuring smile. "Donnie's probably working on a new invention or something. You know how he is."

Raph takes a deep breath, his mind circling with all the questions he would ask his younger brother if he were here right now.

What have you been doing? Why won't you let us in your lab? Are you hiding something from us? Where's (Name)?

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

You press your fingers into the bruise on your ankle, the jolt of pain making your heart beat faster. You look up at Donnie while he works, sitting quietly like he asked.

"Darling, would you like to sit on my lap?" He asks, looking down at you. You nod your head, climbing into his lap. Donnie hugs your waist, pressing sweet kisses to your neck.

You had gotten your way. The metal door was sealed, never to be opened again. You and Donnie spend every day together, whether you're sitting beside him while he works or cuddling. You're always together.

Donnie goes on missions with his brothers and April. While you sit in his lab and wait for him to come back. It had been two years since you started dating Donnie. One year since he kidnapped you started living with him. Six months since your last escape attempt. And three months since you last spoke with his brothers.

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

You looked at yourself in the mirror, purple collar sitting upon your neck. Hickeys and bruises littered your skin. Everything is how it should be.

Everything is perfect.

Star's notes -> I'm backkk!!! HAD to start off my return with a bang! (100% inspired by the amazing and talented @/oleander-nin)

(Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @raphaelsqueen @mamaemoemu @sleebykei @thejudiciousneurotic | Join the taglist

#☆strawb3rrystar writes #☆teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader #rise of the tmnt x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere tmnt x reader #yandere donnie #yandere donatello #yandere donnie x reader #rise donnie x reader #donnie x reader #donatello x reader #yandere donatello x reader

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theflashesoflove · 9 months

Text

amuse-bouche

Jan Stevens x f!reader (nsfw)

a/n: i present to you my monstrous love for this woman. you can tell what her voice does to me. i have been writing it for several nights and completely fucked up my stupid sleep schedule. proofread, but there might be some mistakes i didn't catch. perhaps i need to go outside and touch some boob- i mean grass.

warnings/tags: descriptions of an injury, blood and cunnilingus

word count: 5k

💌: @maximoffslovergirl

A loud thud. A wooden stool slipping from under your legs, a mixer falling down to the floor, smearing everything with sweet sticky substance. A bowl of cream tipping over onto your dress, your skin, all over the floors. A strangled cry in pain, a dislocated kneecap. A blood stream flowing down your leg in a perfect straight line, an attempt to stand up- more pain.

Silence.

Your bandmates turned off the hardware, vibration and rustle of your symphony faded out. The first rule of performance: if you mess up, pretend it was intentional. Audience’s applause was a distant noise – standing on all fours, you were dumbfounded by pain, a white veil covering your vision for a split second. Good, they thought that your embarrassing collapse was just the last strike of a chord. The hall became deserted in a few minutes. A few long, unendurable minutes, and not a single person paid attention to you still being on the floor, petrified by pain.

Finally, your bandmates surrounded you, their hands reached out to your shoulders to help you get up, but you waved them away. You knew you couldn’t stand up, no matter how many hands would help you get on your feet. You groaned, falling over to the side to get your weight off your hands and knees. Blood and sweet cream mixed on your skin, making it sticky and hard to tear away from the floor. Fuck, it hurt. Like a fire burning under your skin, the pain streaming down your right knee across your calf and ankle to the tips of your toes. Your other leg was in pain as well, but a different kind of pain. A familiar cramp twisted the muscles of your left calf, turning them to stone. Excellent, both of your legs were nonfunctional. You bit your lip to suppress your cries and blinked the tears away.

The world around you didn’t exist anymore, pain placed you into a vacuum. At that moment, you thought it would be easier to just pass out from it, to come round when the pain was over and your bandmates miraculously delivered your body to Dr. Glock to deal with the injury. Speaking of Dr. Glock, you really didn’t want to see him. So when your bandmates suggested calling for him, you refused. They stepped away and proceeded to pack the equipment and clean up the food from the table. At least you didn’t have to attend the afterparty anymore. Stones scribbled something in his notebook, observing your agony. Perhaps he would bring this situation up during the interview.

You looked at your leg again, the wound still didn’t stop bleeding. Pink patches of blood and cream on your skin were connected with the scarlet river system. Your knee pulsated and swelled, pain capturing all of your senses.

But something managed to sneak in. Something soft, warm, intriguing even, something soothing and yet so very intoxicating. A hand on your shoulder. A flash of white fabric, black fabric, white fabric again, black eyeshadow, the scent of her hairspray.

This woman thrilled you right from the auditions. No one from your band understood your obsession with her, and they jokingly scolded you for getting distracted from perfecting your performance. But you had it all figured out. You’d managed to focus on your performances, but a part of you, a very big part of you, wanted to impress her. It worked like a perfect mechanism, her scrutiny, praise and helpful remarks brought out the best of your performing abilities, which rewarded you with more of her attention. Though you were sure, it wasn’t anything bigger for her. Her attention never meant anything beyond appraising your art, and the older woman was so out of your league anyway. Elegant, statuesque, with mouth-watering curves and dainty fingers. Her signature makeup complimented her soft features, her attires were so very her, quite formal yet with unmatched grandiosity. And you knew that all of it was expensive. That the fabric of her skirts and blouses was pleasant against her body, that no seams irritated her satin skin. However the thing that brought you to the edge the most was her sultry voice. Voice that made you want to crawl out of your body to no longer be limited by the human form and encompass every vibration of her vocal cords, every movement of her tongue against the roof of her mouth, every barely noticeable breath that accompanied her words. No angel choir could ever compare to her giving dinner speeches, to her squeaking when she was enraged, to her reprimanding your bandmates for ignoring her advice, to her guiding your band through the shops practise with her languid tone.

“Jan Stevens,” you whispered, suddenly so very aware of her proximity. And of the unappealing state you were in. You must have looked pathetic. You imagined that she was about to scrunch her nose and snort, but she just looked at you and crouched beside, a worried expression on her face.

Her voice drowned out your pain for a split second, “Poor thing,” she murmured, brushing your hair off your face. “Can you stand up?”

“She can’t,” your bandmate stepped in, but Jan Stevens didn’t even turn her head away from your face to acknowledge them speaking. She indeed heard them, though, and furrowed her brow, alarmed.

“We suggested calling for Dr. Glock. She refuses to see him,” the other bandmate meddled, annoying you to no end. You didn’t want Jan Stevens tut at you being whimsical and hard to deal with. To your relief, she did no such thing.

“I’ll take care of it, dear. Wim!!!” Before you could answer, she called out the institute's technical assistant. When he finally approached the two of you, her gaze still didn’t leave your pained face. “Please, bring her to my house. She can’t walk.” Wim sighed, but didn’t protest. He never did. And Jan Stevens tipped generously, so he scooped you up in his arms, ignoring your hisses.

Jolts of pain stroke you with every step Wim took towards Jan Stevens’ house. You tried not to press yourself into him too much and keep as quiet as you could. Well, you tried not to howl your lungs out, restricting yourself to teary whines. Jan Stevens followed both of you, but Wim had to wait before the front door for the older woman to open it and hold it for him to enter. He found the nearest seat he could settle you in and left, gaining a nod from Jan Stevens.

The woman disappeared somewhere and you tried to sit as comfortably as you could. But no matter the position, it ached, and ached, and ached. You became awfully aware of how sticky your clothes were, covered in stupid melted buttercream you used for your confectionery themed performance. You didn’t mind the feeling for performance's sake, but it wasn’t about art anymore. It was about your clumsiness, your foolishness, and it was suffocating. Squirming, you decided to take your dress off and clean yourself with it, ignoring Jan Stevens’ curious look when she returned to the couloir to see you in your underwear.

She held a small white box in her hands with a bright red cross on its lid, a first aid kit. Kneeling before you, she placed it on the floor, and waited for you to finish dealing with the cream. You hesitated as to where to put your dirty clothes, and the woman took it from you to carelessly drop it to the floor. She licked her lips and focused on your injured knee, tilting her head from side to side to examine it.

“Aren’t you supposed to be observing the afterparty?” you pried, feeling hot at being the centre of her attention.

She shook her head, “I have something more important to deal with. My absence is justified.” Your ears flushed at her words. “Are you in pain anywhere else?”

“My other leg,” you said, “is cramping. It’s… fuck…” Your left leg was stiff, toes unnaturally curled, and the more you focused on that pain, the more insufferable it felt.

The older woman stroked your legs, not caring that one of her hands got immediately covered in gore. Humming, she decided to deal with your cramp at first. She took your left leg and stretched it out, it made you shriek, muscles tightening so hard as though they were going to be torn apart. She bent your knee and pulled it toward your abdomen, leaving faint palm prints on your skin with your own blood. You couldn’t tell if your cramp was relieved at all, because your other knee still ached immensely. Jan Stevens looked at you under her lashes as she moved your leg. She visibly swallowed, tracing the path of your half-naked body with her eyes, and finally settled your left leg to the ground. Your mouth slightly agape, you watched as she turned her attention to your wound once again, her fingers circled around the source of bleeding, barely touching, feeling how swollen your knee had gotten.

Then, she did something you never expected. Jan Stevens leaned closer to your oozing wound, and stuck out her tongue to press it against you. You gasped, your fingers twitched – you had to stop yourself from burying them in her curls to push her away or to pull her closer. She lapped at your sore skin, acting surprised when the sudden sweetness of buttercream hit her tongue. She looked unabashedly satisfied. Your stomach flipped, a sudden gush of wetness covered your sex and you knew that you were doomed. If she had lowered her gaze, she would have been able to see the dark spot spreading on your underwear, exposing you.

"It hurts," you whined, grimacing. Her cool tongue gently swiped across your knee, aggravating. There were so many sharp sensations. And not a single question about her actions. A cramp in your left leg died down a bit, the echoes of the pain flaring up under your skin from time to time. The other injured leg ached, it ached even more now that Jan Stevens’ mouth was pressed against the mixture of your blood and sweet cream, devouring it like the best dessert she had ever had.

“I know, dear. Didn’t you know that saliva had healing properties?” Jan Stevens gave you a sickly sweet smile, but your pained expression made her face twitch in worry that she might have crossed the thin already nonexistent line. “I’ll help you, let me just…” and she caressed the skin of your calf, hands crawling up towards your knee where her mouth pressed against your skin again, making you whimper from strange, uncalled desire and, of course, boundless pain. “Shhh…” she cooed, her fingers grabbing your knee, open mouth pressed against your skin. She wasn’t kissing or licking it anymore, she just sat there, on her knees before you, her face flush against your dewy skin, hands snapping your kneecap into place with one quick motion. You cried out, hands gripping the arms of the fauteuil, nails scratching antique wood, tears splashing out of your eyes. “Oh, sweet girl,” her solacing voice brought you back to reality and you noticed that it was much easier to breathe.

The overwhelming pain gradually stepped away, leaving behind a soreness that was much more bearable. Absolutely crushed in the armchair, you suddenly felt so, so tired. And so fucking aroused. Because Jan Stevens planted one last kiss to your knee and turned to her first aid kit to treat your wound. There was a little bit of blood on her face, almost the same colour as her lipstick. She cleaned your leg, lost in the process, and you just wanted, just needed to feel her mouth again. To see her lips wrapped around your wound, to hiss as her tongue would lap on your injured flesh again. Her soft hands flew across your skin, applying bandages, and once she was done, she sat back on her heels and placed her hands on her lap, looking up at you.

“Better?” she asked, and you nodded, pursing your lips. Smiling, she added, gingerly, “You still must see a doctor, darling. I can arrange for someone else to examine you.”

“Thank you.” You knew that you looked like a mess. Dried tears on your face, dishevelled hair, weakness in your voice. Jan Stevens smiled and smoothed the fabric of her skirt, however she didn’t rush to get up and go on about her night. Her gaze studied you, curious, yet… unsure? She licked her lips, remnants of your blood hitting her tongue. Why did she look so hesitant after just almost drinking from your wound? You didn’t have enough strength in you to stare back, so you busied yourself with observing the couloir, now that your attention was no longer captured by strong pain. Jan Stevens fitted in this environment perfectly, and for a moment you wondered what her bedroom looked like. Was she her startling self even in the privacy of her home? Was she always wearing that makeup? She surely had to take it off at some point in the night, hadn’t she? What clothes did she sleep in? Did she sleep alone or was there someone keeping her warm from time to time? And did she even have a kitchen? It was most likely that she did, but did she use it?

Her voice snapped you back from your thoughts, smooth as silk, “The fall was not planned, was it?”

“Lost my balance,” you replied, not really willing to elaborate.

“You never had problems with it before,” she wondered.

“I just… I got lost in the sound and,” you started, unsure how to put it, “my thoughts lead me elsewhere.”

“Where?” she leaned closer, curious.

“Sometimes I forget that- that art isn’t all about the outcome. It’s about the process… I was carried away with anticipation of the result.”

“Tell me more,” her eyes bore into you. “What result did you anticipate?” And when she spoke like that, you knew you couldn’t withhold anything from her.

You blushed and looked away. “I anticipated… being seen. That once we end our performance, people might get frustrated it was already over. And some of them might… might think of me, even for a second. Might… notice something about me, might be interested in something about me… and- oh, it sounds so silly.”

“And what?”

“And some of them… might want me to be in their life. Some of them might want me,” you whispered, horrified at your own thoughts.

“Don’t you feel wanted?” She sounded almost disappointed.

The question was phrased rather oddly, you contemplated. Like you were supposed to feel wanted, like you didn’t recognise someone’s efforts. The truth was that maybe at that particular moment you did feel wanted. That maybe Jan Stevens’ treatment, and the way she still sat in front of you on her knees, looking deep into your soul, her sultry voice kissing your ears and making your body shiver with every word she spoke, maybe all of it made you feel wanted.

“I… I don’t know. My band needs me, although I’m sure they hate me for ruining the performance. But they can always replace me. And- I don’t want to be replaceable.”

It was too much to ask, you recognised that. Every person was replaceable, after all. Even directors of the Sonic Catering Institute, they had replaced one another until it was Jan Stevens’ turn to take the position. And someday there would be a replacement even for her. No person is truly unique, truly indispensable. There’s always someone else. Someone better, even. Your friend found new friends after you isolated yourself from them, your teacher found a new favourite student after you graduated, the company you worked for found a new employee after you quit. And even after your performance the audience walked away and found some other form of art to admire. They forgot about you – they probably didn’t even memorise you in the first place – until your next performance. But maybe, maybe there was someone who felt drawn to you. Maybe they weren't able to get you off their mind, maybe they attended every performance just for you alone, and maybe they would still think about you even after the residency would be over. And maybe they thought about you at night, and maybe they cried, because they would never be able to reach you, to hold your hand, to kiss you. And maybe you would inspire them to make art of their own. And maybe they would silently dedicate every art piece to you, or maybe they would say it loud and clear. And maybe they would live with a heavy soul their whole life, never having gotten a taste of you. Never having spoken to you. You would leave a trace in their heart, a scar even, and you would be irreplaceable for them until they draw their last breath.

Having such thoughts made you feel guilty. It was hard not to lose yourself in this craving for being special, hell, these thoughts had already made you fall down and bleed and cry in pain.

“This is why you create, to feel wanted?” Jan Stevens’s voice brought you back to earth once again.

“Partly, yeah,” the older woman tilted her head to the side in question and you explained, “I value the process. I revel in the process, but I also… I also crave the unachievable outcome, is it a bad thing?”

“Of course not,” Jan Stevens lifted herself, standing on her knees, and reached her hand to your face to gently stroke your cheek, “It’s better than lying to yourself.”

Fuck, why didn’t she kiss you already? You reminisced her face, contorted with pleasure as she licked the blood off your skin. You reminisced her hungry gaze, the breathtaking blues of her eyes swallowed by the dark pits of her pupils. And she was so close now, she caressed your cheek, and you noticed the corner of her mouth twitch in something she tried to suppress. “Do you do that?” you breathed out, looking her in the eyes.

“Do what?” her voice was sweetened by the amused smile that spread across her features. You wanted to grab her by the hair and bring her lips to your ear for her to whisper, and whisper, and whisper the filthiest of words. You wanted to wrap yourself in her voice.

“Lie to yourself,” your words made Jan Stevens’ expression turn stone serious. Did you upset her? Was she about to throw you out of her home on your broken knees? She slowly rose, your head leaned backwards, following her movements. Her hand grabbed the back of the fauteuil, and after regarding you from her full height for a second, she bent down until her breath tickled your cheeks once again.

“Yes. A lot lately,” her upper lip twitched again, and she breathed out of her mouth, hesitating for a second. “Every year,” she started her revelation, “I dread that there will be someone who catches my eye and I won’t be able to resist it.” She made a small pause, her eyes sparkling dangerously. “But I also secretly hope that among my residents… there might be someone… for me, not for the audience, just for me.” Her intense gaze turned you inside out. “Don’t you feel wanted, Y/N?” the older woman asked again, her tone different this time. “Just like you craved to feel?” And you knew you had to be honest.

“I… I think I do,” your voice trembled, ragged breaths left your mouth as she leaned closer, so painfully closer. She looked satisfied with your answer.

“Good.” And she kissed you. Slowly, although it was clear that she suppressed the urge to swallow you whole. She grabbed your chin and dug her nails into your jaw to keep your mouth open, and she swiped the tip of her tongue across your lips, moaning, the knot inside of your stomach made itself known again. “I could give you it all,” she whispered into your parted lips after tearing herself away. “I could make you feel so, so special.” Jan Stevens shifted to the side and licked the helix of your ear and you whimpered, and you clamped your thighs, the slickness between your legs was audible at this point. “But beware, once I start, I won’t be able to stop, ever,” her mouth captured your earlobe, tongue playing with your tiny earring.

Every word she spoke melted on her tongue like sugar, syrupy sweet syllables, meringue consonants and honey vowels. Her gaze bore into you like a spoon dipping into crème brûlée, and you were finally between her teeth, an indulgence she could never resist. She caressed your torso with featherlight touches, looming over you, her nails scraping your rubicund skin ever so slightly.

“Please,” you begged and spread your legs, instantly wincing and cursing under your breath from the pain. You grabbed her hips and leaned closer, hiding your face in the delicate fabric of her white blouse.

"Do you really think you can take it?” Jan Stevens spoke again, her voice almost dangerous, cutting through you like a knife. But there was something else in her question. It was half playful, half sincere. As if she asked 'Do you think you can handle me? My desire? Do you think you won’t get sick of me the second we finish? Do you think you really want to stay with me?’

“I can,” you said confidently, answering all of her questions at once. “Or do you want me to beg for you to finally fuck my face?” you snapped.

“That won’t be necessary, dear” Jan Stevens uttered and sharply breathed out through her nose. The upholstery dipped under her weight as she climbed onto the fauteuil, it was a tight squeeze, but she managed to fit your legs between her knees, not straddling you, not applying any pressure to your much-suffering legs. She towered over you even in this position, her crotch right in front of your face. She rushed to hike up her long white skirt, exposing her ivory thighs wrapped in sheer black stockings. Your eyes focused on her red lace knickers that looked like a cherry you wanted to catch with your mouth.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, breathing her scent in. You pressed your nose against her thigh, hands squeezing her heavenly flesh bedecked with stretch marks. She peeped at you from above, biting her lower lip in seething anticipation.

Two of your digits dove past the band of her underwear, you coated your fingers with her essence and slowly, carefully pulled them out and sucked them into your mouth. You groaned at the taste of her, tongue ripping the string of her wetness that connected your fingers. Once your fingers were out of your mouth, she tightly fisted her skirt in one of her hands to instantly pull you towards her with her now free hand, an airy moan escaping her throat as soon as your nose pressed against her clit through her knickers.

You lapped at the soaked lace, causing a delightful friction of fabric against her sensitive spot. With one finger, you finally pushed her panties to the side and immediately kissed her slit, eliciting a blissful sound out of the woman. Her hand was still in your hair and she was firmly holding you where she needed you the most.

“Oh, darling,” she drawled out and closed her eyes. Her fingertips massaged your scalp, and you hummed against the slickness, causing her to growl.

With a simmering passion, you lapped at her folds and pressed onward onto her entrance. Eating her out was an otherworldly experience, it seemed like all of your life events led you to this particular moment. Her breathy moans encouraged you to press harder, to grind your nose against her clit and keep worshipping her. At that moment, you thought of the afterparty that was held in the main building, and with a certain smugness you realised how lucky, how special you were to be here, with her, while your bandmates must have revelled in the audience's tribute. The honour of being with her was transcendent, it was the highest praise. A course that you wanted to prolong until her knees would give in, until she wouldn’t be able to release anything other than muffled sobs of overwhelming pleasure.

Her legs trembled above you. Grabbing her ass, you helped her steady herself, squeezing and squishing her plump flesh, and losing yourself, and allowing yourself to lightly slap her cheek to give her more, to give her the diversity of sensations. To show her that you would do anything with her, anything she would like, as many times as she would like, as filthy and rough as she would like, as lovingly and tenderly as she would like. To tell her, I wanted this for so long, and I can’t believe I’m here, and I won’t let you down, and I want all of your eccentricity, all of your ardour, all of your greatness, all of you, all of you, all of you.

I want to sleep in your bed and wake up next to you, and kiss your beautiful face the first seconds of the morning. I want to sit next to you during performances and hold your hand, and stroke your thigh when no one sees. I want to sit near you at dinners, and soothe you, when residents test your patience as they always do. I want to protect you from intruders, hell, I would slash their throats for you to finally feel at peace. I want to walk with you in the gardens and compare your eyes to the clear sky. I want to help you take off your makeup at night and apply fresh eyeshadow in the morning. I want to help you dress, I want to undress you as a night ritual. For I am greedy for you. For you finally, finally gave me a taste of life I missed so dearly.

The agonising aching in your knee never stopped, but you didn’t allow it to distract you from her. When some sudden jolts of pain made you let out a strangled ‘aw’ against her cunt, the older woman stroked your head, comforting you.

Jan Stevens groaned as you sucked on her clit, and you pushed your hand up under the band of her skirt, under her blouse, and you groped her tummy, nails biting into the softness. Her skin was warm, covered in sweat, – god, she must have been very hot being still fully dressed when the air around the two of you seemed so heavy and stuffy – and you kneaded her flesh before reaching even further, fingers crawling to her bra and under it to graze her hardened nipple. Your tongue swirled across her lower lips as you rubbed her nipple between your fingertips and pinched it, causing her to let out a hoarse ‘Y- yes, Yes!’. How enrapturing it was, feeling her come undone above you with the palm of her hand wrapped around the back of your head. Feeling her fingers tangling in your hair, as your digits moved in crushing waves across the skin you could reach, as her pussy fitted in your mouth oh so perfectly. A mixture of her juices and your saliva dripped down your chin and your jaw was on fire already, moving up and down, mouth closing and opening around her. And your tongue dipped into her just right, as far as it could go, and she moved her hips to meet its thrusts.

Eventually you retracted your hand from under her clothes, it replaced your tongue, massaging her sticky entrance in circular motions. Fuck, the way she dripped on your fingers made you groan, and you tried to pull away for a second to admire her form, but Jan Stevens protested and pushed your back right on her clit.

“Ah- f- fuck, don’t- don’t stop, don’t stop, ahh- don’t you d- dare stop,” it came out under her breath, sweet whimpers getting in the way of her words.

Clenching your thighs, you felt so close to your own release. Just a little bit more pressure, just something, something to rut against, just for a second, just a couple of swift strokes, just- oh. Maybe you didn’t even need any of that after all. Maybe Jan Stevens, oh Jan Stevens, rubbing against your face in fast hard motions with your name on her lips was enough to bring you over the edge without any stimulation. You shuddered underneath her and your fingers that previously just applied pressure onto her surface, slithered inside of her and were immediately clenched by her wet walls. She came, shivering so hard it made her slip out of your mouth and from your fingers and smear your cheek with her essence. Her moan rang across the room, you trembled under her, and your clit pulsated, triggered from that sound, causing a whimper of your own. You leaned back on the armchair, sweat dripping down your temples.

Jan Stevens dropped her skirt and gripped the baсkrest with both of her hands, breathing heavily. She looked at you from above, a clouded gaze admiring your exhausted state. Next thing you knew, she leaned closer and kissed you with such urgency it made your teeth clash against hers.

“I have never felt so desired,” you almost didn’t catch her whispering, still coming down from your own orgasm. Her words sounded detached as if she was pondering to herself rather than talking to you, almost surprised, stunned even.

I have never felt so lucky, you wanted to say. And I would give you more, and I would push you down to the floor and unravel you, and I would let you use me again and again and again. I would do all of it, if my leg didn’t hurt so fucking bad. Oh, there was so much she still didn’t know about your feelings towards her.

Soon after her feet met the ground, and she studied your appearance once again. You could see her musing upon something – she must have thought of the ways to help you get up. Without further ado, Jan Stevens scooped you up in her arms, and you let out a mixture of light giggles and quiet grunts from the pain.

“Now, I will tuck you into bed like a doll you are. And I will call a doctor in the morning,” she murmured, carrying you to her bedroom.

“Can I help you take off your makeup?” you muttered, pressing your cheek against her shoulder.

“Oh dear,” she thought about it for a second, an amused smile on her lips. You pouted, awaiting her answer. “Yes, yes you can.”

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

a/n: i can assure you that reader absolutely adored her bunny pyjamas

#jan stevens #jan stevens x reader #jan stevens x y/n #flux gourmet #gwendoline christie

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starryeyedmunson · 2 years

Text

lessons in the bedroom - e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x female reader

summary: eddie teaches you how to give a blowjob.

warnings: smut (minors LEAVE): oral (m receiving), pet names: sweetheart, baby, one use of ‘hun’; mention of a heterosexual hook up appointment; swearing, stupid jokes

author’s note: enjoy eddie munson’s masterclass on head. enjoy :)

pt. 2 ; pt. 3

word count: 2.9k

“Shut up, asshole.”

“I’m not judging you,” Eddie was in a fit of laughter. “I just can’t believe it. I knew you were a virgin, but you haven’t even-”

“Can you just help me? I’m having this guy over tonight, and I can’t be flying blind out here,” you snapped. Eddie had been your friend for a while now; you felt comfortable with him regarding everything. Everything would also include your sex life, or rather lack thereof. This was the first time you were inviting a boy over; you had gone on a couple dates with him already. He was nice, and you thought it was time to finally give him an inch. What that inch was, however, you had no idea. So there you were, standing with your arms crossed and interrogating Eddie for instructions on how to give a blowjob.

“Okay, okay,” he finally stopped laughing. “Do you have a vague idea of how to go about it?”

“I mean,” you started. “I know you put your mouth around it.”

“Alright, Sherlock, you’re set.” You threw the plastic water bottle in your hand at his head, and he dodged it as he fell into laughter again. “No seriously, is that all you know?”

“That’s it, I’m getting help from Steve,” you huffed.

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry, okay? I’ll be cool, promise,” he put his hand up to swear it to you. “First and most important rule: absolutely no teeth.”

“Hm,” you thought out loud. “That makes sense. Wait- do you have, like, something I can practice on? Like a banana or something?”

“What about this place makes you think bananas are something you would find in it?” he snarked. You rolled your eyes, but you knew he was right.

“Okay, smartass, so how would I know if I’m doing it right?” you probed.

“You could always practice on me, sweetheart,” Eddie winked. You gave him a blank stare as your mind calculated the best way to actually accept the clear joke of an offer. “That was not serious,” he said slowly.

“Well do you have any alternate ideas because that is the only plausible one you’ve suggested,” you spoke quickly.

“You are not perfecting your head game on me,” he said flatly. “Even though free blowjobs are both great and hard to come by, I’m not making you do that.”

“You aren’t making me,” you dragged out the sentence. “I need help. Here, think of it this way: I get the guidance I need, and you get a blowjob that is totally tailored to you.”

“You’re being serious right now?” Eddie questioned. You nodded your head, walking over to the bed and reaching for the blanket.

“Here, you can put this over my head so you don’t get weirded out by the sight of your best friend sucking you off,” you offered the blanket to him, and he took it slowly from your hands.

“Uh,” Eddie scratched the back of his neck. “Alright, but this is purely for research. Scientific method, all that shit.”

“Do you even know what the scientific method is?”

“Heard it somewhere, I think- that’s not the point.” Eddie unfolded the blanket and laid it over his thighs. “Okay, first thing’s first: do you want to learn laying down or on your knees?”

“I feel like I should try and fit into the stereotype if I’m gonna go all out,” you put your hands behind your back.

“Alright,” Eddie opened his legs to make space for you. “Kneel down here.” You slowly moved in between Eddie’s legs, bending your knees and putting your hands on the ground for some support as you got into position. You looked up at him, and he inhaled deeply. “I’m gonna take off my pants and stuff now.”

“Please don’t narrate,” you shuddered. Eddie tightened his lips, unzipping his jeans and pulling them down to his ankles. You could see his half chub through his briefs, much to your surprise. “You’re already- hey!” Eddie threw the blanket over your head.

“You don’t get to narrate either,” Eddie fixed the blanket so it was settled more evenly over you, then leaned back on his hands. “Okay, showtime.”

“Jesus, don’t say that,” you scoffed. “Just tell me what to do, Munson.”

“Uh,” Eddie sighed. “So take it in your hand and give it a few pumps through the cotton.” You reached up and grabbed his clothed cock, your hands light and barely gripping him. “You can tighten your hand a little, yeah like that,” he exhaled as your grip hardened a little more. “Okay, now go slow at first, just up and down the shaft.”

“Like this?” you stroked him, just as he described. You could feel him hardening more with each time you rubbed him. “Hello?” He didn’t say anything for a bit, and you got worried.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered. You didn’t really know if the speech impediment was a good sign, but you continued anyway. He reached under the blanket and put his hand over yours, causing you to stop. “Here, I’m gonna take off my underwear now, is that okay?”

“Sure,” you took a deep breath.

“No, not ‘sure.’ I need you to say yes,” Eddie pressed. You smiled softly to yourself, grateful that even in the completely non-platonic situation you were in Eddie still cared for you in the way a best friend would.

“Yes,” you complied. He moved his hands towards the top of his briefs, slowly pulling them down and letting his fully-hard cock spring free. You helped him lead the fabric all the way down his legs to meet his jeans, and you were faced with the sight of your best friend’s dick. Your eyes widened, actually surprised at his size. “You walk around with this thing?”

“Please stop talking,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. You giggled from under the blanket, and Eddie sighed. “Alright now do what you were just doing, nice and slow.” You resumed your motions, finally able to feel the thick veins that ran up his cock. You narrowed your eyes and your tongue peeked out of your mouth in concentration, trying to keep the steady rhythm that Eddie had showed you.

“Should I start now?” you had a small voice, and Eddie barely heard it through the blanket separating you two from each other’s view.

“Yeah, you’re gonna want to get it slick first, so try and spit on your hand or, like, on me,” he instructed.

“Well I don’t have the best aim, so I’m not doing that,” you defied.

“You kind of have to or else it’ll- holy shit,” Eddie breathed out. You had pooled saliva in your mouth, making your tongue extra wet and licking a stripe up the bottom of his shaft. It caught Eddie completely by surprise, and he was beginning to think you weren’t as inexperienced as you led him to believe.

“What- was that wrong? Fuck, sorry,” you freaked out.

“No, the opposite, sweetheart,” he sighed. You shrugged your shoulders and repeated your action, this time running your tongue in a zigzag pattern to cover more ground. You heard Eddie groan from above you, and that plus the nickname ‘sweetheart’ had you feeling a little more confident about how you were doing. You shifted so that your head was above his dick, and you let yourself drool over it, the spit dribbling over the top half that hadn’t gotten any attention yet. You resumed your hand motions, stroking up and down with a lot more ease than you had before.

“This is pretty straightforward, actually. I feel like I’m not doing too bad, right?” you wondered out loud.

“Yeah, you’re n-not bad at all,” Eddie managed, too lost in the feeling of his cock in your hand. “You ready to actually start?”

“I think so,” you focused back on the throbbing dick in front of you. “Do I have to put the entire thing in my mouth at once?”

“Not necessarily,” he answered. “You can slowly work your way down if that’s more manageable. Just start at the tip and then go down a bit, then come back up.”

You took another deep breath, opening your mouth a little to take his tip in like he said.

No teeth. Got it.

You let your plush lips cushion around the pink head, only encompassing that at first before moving back up to the top. You repeated yourself, slowly inching down more each time. You pulled off of him completely, still stroking his leaking cock. “You’re gonna need to give me some verbal feedback instead of this heavy breathing up there.”

“Yes, it’s- yes,” he groaned. “If I don’t say you’re doing anything wrong, you’re doing everything right.” You nodded to yourself, then wrapped your mouth around his tip again. You bobbed your head up and down slowly, too scared to go any faster. Your hand was stationary at the base of his dick, and you felt the blanket moving as Eddie fit his hand around yours. He guided it up to just below your mouth, and with each sink and rise of your head, he held your hand to follow it. You soon got the memo, picking up the pace ever so slightly and moving your hand on your own. “Fuck, baby, just like that,” he just about moaned. Eddie’s grip loosened, but instead of taking his hand out from under the blanket he laced his fingers through your hair. He picked up some of it, making a sort of ponytail and holding on tight as you blew him.

On the other side of the blanket, Eddie was trying to stay as quiet as possible. He couldn’t believe that you, his best friend, were on your knees in front of him with his dick in your mouth. The way it fit perfectly in between your lips, the warm feeling of your tongue running up and down him, the perfect pace you had set yourself at. It had his mind wandering to how your pussy would feel, what it would be like to endure your pulsating walls against him as he made you scream his name. He had always fantasized about that, but he never considered it a plausible reality.

But there you were, entrancing him as you hollowed out your cheeks and created a pressure in your mouth. Your pace was drastically faster than how it was at the beginning, and your tongue was now swirling around the head, lightly grazing over the slit at the very top. You had no idea what to do with your other hand, so you put it high up on his thigh. Your grip tightened, earning a moan from the boy above you.

Am I supposed to be doing something with his balls right now? You literally had no idea, so you decided to just go for it. The hand that was on his thigh moved to just under your head, and you lightly grazed the two sacks beneath the cock you basically owned at this point.

“Holy-” Eddie now really moaned. You froze, terrified that you had fucked up.

“I didn’t know what to do with my other hand,” you defended yourself.

“Please, please do that again,” Eddie keened. You were surprised at first, but then a smirk appeared on your face. You took his cock back in your mouth, but this time you grabbed onto his balls a little tighter, massaging the both of them to the same rate you were bobbing your head. “Don’t s-stop,” he whimpered. Your hair in his hand was now being tugged on, keeping you at a consistent speed. You rolled his balls in between your fingers, and he pulled on your hair tighter, eliciting a moan from you. Eddie felt it in his cock, the vibration running through him and causing his head to fall back.

“It’s getting a little hot down here,” you stopped again, and Eddie had to collect himself. “Should- can I take the blanket off?”

“If you w-want to,” Eddie was still trying to find his footing with his words, and you realized that you had him in the palm of your hand. Literally. You slowly lifted the blanket over your head, revealing Eddie’s flushed face and the small beads of sweat along his hairline. You looked up at him, but he wasn’t making eye contact due to the possible implications that he didn’t want to address at the moment. You furrowed your brows, but you knew as you took your hand and wrapped it above the other one on his cock that he would break. You began wringing your hands around him, moving up and down while your wrists rolled back and forth. You took his balls into your mouth this time, sucking and flicking your tongue slowly as to play with them.

Eddie was in a blissful turmoil above you. His one hand was still gripping your hair for dear life, while the other was clinging to the sheets. He was swearing under his breath, letting out a small shit, baby every so often. His eyes were screwed shut as you had your way with him, and dared himself a glance at your frame kneeling in front of him.

He was doomed. Your makeup was slightly running, your eyes trained on where your mouth was ruining him. The visual of your hands going up and down his strained cock along with your tongue and lips kneading his balls was sending him into a frenzy, and when you hit him with those innocent doe eyes it was almost all he could take.

“You look so f-fucking pretty, sweetheart, you know th-that?” he praised. “Doing so good down there, so good for m-me.” You were now working with ultimate conviction, the flattery doing its job. “G-gonna, shit baby h-how do you know just how I l-like it,” he was falling apart in front of you.

You sucked on his balls with a little more force, your hands moved at an even faster pace, and you were determined to make him cum. You popped off his balls and replaced your mouth with your hand, taking his entire cock into your mouth. It was hitting the back of your throat, and your gag reflex was on the verge of being triggered.

“I c-can’t, gonna- oh god.” He couldn’t warn you in time, but the twitch inside of your mouth was your alarm that he was spent. With your entire mouth around his length, you could feel each surge of the cum that shot through and out of his cock, the hot fluid hitting your throat and forcing itself down your esophagus. The salty taste was foreign to you, and you honestly didn’t like it. But you didn’t totally hate it either. Your preferences didn’t matter as it was already filling your mouth. The last pulses of his cock played out, and you slowly made your way back until his dick was no longer in your mouth. A dribble of his cum was trickling out of your mouth, and you used your thumb to collect it before putting the thumb in your mouth, sucking off the semen.

Your gaze moved up to find Eddie gawking at you. His lips were parted, and his breathing was inconsistent. His entire face was red and damp, and his hands were in his matted hair. Yet he still looked so pretty, so submitted to you as if he was the one keeling at your feet. Your eyes darted around the room until you looked back at him.

“Well?” you said, completely unassuming. Eddie let out a loud but exhausted laugh.

“Don’t bullshit me, hun. That was not your first time at all,” he closed his eyes and sighed, finally at rest.

“Why would I lie about that?” you were offended. “That is, like, so beyond embarrassing.”

“I don’t know why you would lie about that, but you definitely did.” Eddie flinched at you smacking his leg, but just chuckled as he looked back down at you.

“What can I say, I’m a natural,” you gave him a small smile, and he dropped one of his arms to put his hand on your cheek. He rubbed his thumb lightly across your skin, the moment containing a hint of intimacy. You put your hands on the ground and got up to your feet, brushing off your shins and knees. “Well, thank you. You know, for teaching me.”

“I should be thanking you,” Eddie snickered. You rolled your eyes, turning around and grabbing your jacket. Eddie was pulling up his bottom articles of clothing while you weren’t facing him, and he was just pulling up the zipper when you turned back around. “Off to your house?”

“I guess so, yeah,” you said. “Gotta show off my new party trick.” Eddie gave you a tight smile, and he walked you out to the front door. “So,” you turned to face him. “This little experiment is confidential, right?”

“Oh definitely,” he laughed. “Robin and Steve would lose it, and don’t even get me started on if Dustin were to somehow find out.”

“Perfect,” you giggled back. An awkward silence fell over the two of you, and Eddie cleared his throat and opened the door for you. You walked outside, giving Eddie one final glance. He gave you a smile, and you saluted him.

What the fuck did you do that for?

He raised his eyebrows and gave you a little salute back, and you groaned in embarrassment and trudged down the stairs. You heard Eddie laughing behind you as he closed the door, finally reaching your car. You got behind the wheel and took a deep breath, turning the car on and heading for the actual performance you just had the dress rehearsal for.

Hopefully what worked on Eddie would work with this guy.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie stranger thing #stranger things smut #fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot #eddie one shot #eddie drabble

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whereireid · 1 year

Text

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ — 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

part one | part two — pairing: miles quaritch x fem!reader

summary: — “miles coming back from a mission angry & taking his stress out on reader” and “miles returning from a mission and finding bunny playing w herself”.

— warnings: established relationships, submissive!reader, nicknames (bunny and daddy) - nsfw content - cnc, spankings, rough oral sex [m + f recieving] semi-rough p in v, breeding kink, reader dumbification, orgasm denial, overstimulation

It’s not like you’ve been trying to be naughty.

You try so hard to be a good girl for Quaritch, to please him in every way possible, even when he’s not around. The rules he’s set for you are simple - no touching yourself, no use of toys, and absolutely no rutting against things like the goddamn horny bunny you are.

In the grand scheme of things, though, rules are meant to be broken. Rules that were presented to you under false premises - under the idea that Quaritch would be gone for only a few days when it's now been two weeks. Those are rules that are meant to be broken.

And it’s just like your daddy says — you’re just a horny little bunny who thinks with her cunt and not her brain.

So, that’ll be your excuse when Quaritch discovers what you’ve been doing behind his back. You huff as you clamber onto his pillow, your lips set into a pretty little pout as you straddle it, your fingers curling into the soft flesh as you gently begin to grind your hips against the smooth fabric.

It feels good - satisfies the little pool of arousal that resides within you. Your slick paints the pillow, allowing for easier movement, and the friction from the cover makes your breath shudder slightly, your clit being faintly stimulated as you move. The tenderness of your movements isn’t enough, though — it doesn’t get you going like your daddy does, and you frown, your little hips beginning to rut eagerly at the pillow, speeding up your pace.

And, oh my gosh, it feels so good. It feels similar to how Quaritch’s rough fingers make you feel, and you toy with different positions until you finally find one which has you withering for relief. You shake like a leaf, your eyelids drooping as your cunt pulses, the desperate need to cum dulling your senses, a cry slipping past your pouty lips.

You’re so focused on chasing your high that you don’t even hear his heavy footsteps on the wooden floor. You don’t even see the flash of blue out of the corner of your eye - no, you’re too busy being a naughty, horny little bunny, more preoccupied chasing your own high than paying attention to your surroundings.

Just as your cunt clenches, your stomach growing tight and pooling with familiar warmth, two big hands wrap around your ankles, forcefully pulling you from your position on the pillow. You squeal, your hands rushing downwards to cover your cunt from the fearsome invader, who seethes down at you with such anger, you almost wonder why he doesn’t have steam shooting out of his ears.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, huh, bun?” Quaritch says, his voice distorted, rumbling in his chest, resembling that of a snarl. “I gave you three rules when I was gone. Three. Are you seriously that much of a dumb fuckin’ baby that you can’t even remember them?”

You cry out as Quaritch’s fingers wrap around your wrists, his strength no match for your own as he pulls you up, forcing you on your hands and knees in front of him. “I remember them,” you whine out, your cunt leaking with slick, crying from the loss of touch. “I know the rules, daddy, I promise.”

“Yeah? Then why’d you break ‘em, huh?” His ears twitch uncontrollably as he begins to unbuckle his belt, one of his hands still wrapped angrily around your wrist. “You know, I’ve been more than lenient recently. Been real fuckin’ nice to you, bunny, but you gotta remember who the boss is in this relationship, and it sure as hell ain’t you.”

“Didn’t mean to break the rules! You were gone so long, daddy, it started to hurt!" You protest, voice shaking softly as Quaritch’s fingers wrap around his cock, his lavender tip throbbing with need. You lick your lips, watching as his thumb swipes over the pearl of precum, desperate to have him in you. “Please, daddy, want it so bad. It hurts.”

“Oh, bunny, you don’t know nothin’ about hurtin’ yet,” Quartich seethes, his cock slapping lewdly against your lips, his length beginning to force its way into your mouth. You moan around him, your ass wiggling eagerly in the air, and he grins as you gag around his cock. His hand trail down towards your ass, gently palming at the soft flesh, before raising his palm, and bringing it down in a harsh, fluid motion -

SMACK! - Quaritch hits you so hard that you’re certain it’s going to leave a mark. You don’t expect it - jolting forwards as his hand makes contact with you, your throat constricting as he thrusts into your mouth simultaneously. There’s an evil grin on his lips as he fucks into your mouth, relishing in the sound of you gagging around him, his hand coming down again and again and again, spanking your ass so harshly that you’re crying, gagging, and choking around his cock.

“Oh, bunny, does that hurt?” Quaritch mocks, his balls making lewd, sloppy sounds against your chin, and your throat stings with an overwhelming amount of pain. His cock glides in and out of your mouth, his tip brushing against the back of your throat uncomfortably, a low groan slipping past his lips. “You’re spoilt, baby bun. ‘S my fault, been lettin’ you get away with too much.”

You try to protest, try so desperately to argue that you’re a good girl who listens and behaves and is always so obedient. But if you did, it would be a lie, and the sound of your arguing just sounds like humming, because Quaritch is relentlessly fucking into your mouth, your spit drooling down your chin degradingly as he does so. You’re nothing but a hole for him right now, nothing but a horny little bunny for him to use for his own satisfaction.

“Hurts, daddy,” you manage to gargle out, but Quaritch simply chuckles, his fingers grabbing at everything - your hair, your face, your shoulders, your ass. He’s palming at you like a goddamn cat, grunts leaving his mouth as he fucks your face brutally, chasing nothing but his own high.

“It’s meant to hurt, bunny.”

Nonetheless, though, Quaritch pulls away, cooing as a string of your salvia follows him. His length shines from your spit, and he groans, fisting his cock softly, slowly, slapping the length lewdly across your face. With each slap, you flinch, but your body feels all gooey and warm when the soft, squelchy sounds of his beatings echo around your bedroom.

Quaritch is so relentlessly beautiful, and you stare in awe as little specks of aqua light radiate from his skin. His thick cock brushes against your lips and you relish in the feeling of liberty and freedom for just a second more, before his large hand wraps around your head, and he forces his girthy cock inside of your mouth again.

It’s so degrading. You choke around him, feeling so useless and small, tears pricking in the corners of your eyes as he uses you. It’s a terrible, hurtful feeling - but you’re so wet that your slick is practically dripping onto his bedsheets. The absence of Quaritch's hand toying with your cunt like he usually does makes you hump the air stupidly, and your mouth stings with stretch because his cock is just so stupidly wide.

Discomfort spreads throughout your nerves like fire as he thrusts into your mouth, tears falling down your face and cooling the burning of your cheeks. You want it to stop so badly - you want your daddy to pick you up and use your little pussy, but instead, he’s hell-bent on using your mouth. And you’re so needy and desperate, you wiggle your little ass in the air hornily, but it’s a mistake, because his hand comes down roughly again, cracking against your skin like a whip.

You cry out, choking around his length, tearfully pushing on his navel to escape his relentless thrusts, but he doesn't even move an inch. “You’ve been a bad bunny,” he tells you, the tip of cock beginning to twitch softly in your mouth, “so take it.”

You listen, your ass stilling in the air, and though your skin throbs with pain, you bite back the urge to whine about your discomfort. Quaritch palms at the soft flesh of your ass, quiet groans slipping past his lips as he thrusts into your mouth, his motions becoming sloppy and desperate.

You can taste the saltiness of your tears, because they’re running down your face and painting his cock. You protest, which comes out muffled, unable to stop Quaritch’s cock from pushing against the back of your mouth, again and again.

Your throat constricts as his hips begin to shudder, his balls resting against your chin as he cums. It feels like you’re suffocating, and the twinge of arousal isn’t enough to chill the fear that spreads throughout your spine. Quaritch pumps his cum down your throat and you gag, choke around his length, wiggle your hips, and you push on his navel in an attempt to get away - but to no avail, because he holds you in place, and your strength is no match for his own.

By the time Quaritch pulls out of your mouth, your tastebuds are dancing with the salty aftertaste of his cum, and you’re left gasping for air. You shake beneath him, your round doe-eyes pooling with tears, and Quaritch coos, his thumb collecting some of your spit and some of his cum that had dribbled from your lips when he’d pulled out of your mouth.

Quaritch's thumb forces its way into your mouth, and your eyes flutter, trying to bat away your tears as your cheeks hollow around his finger. “I don’t want you to waste a single drop,” he tells you plainly, his tail swaying frustratedly behind him, ears twitching when you nuzzle closer, needy for his touch. “God, you look like such a mess.”

You blink your tears away, and try to force the pout from your lips, but it’s borderline impossible. Your face is so expressive that Quaritch can read all of your emotions, and he knows that his words have just struck a nerve. “Tried to look pretty for you,” you say tearfully, pushing your head into Quaritch’s palm as his other hand smooths down your hair. “Didn’t know when you were gonna get back, daddy. Dressed up every day for you, just in case.”

“You always look pretty, bun,” he purrs, the bed dipping with his weight as he sits next to you, his fingers meekly rubbing the tears from your eyes. "Even when you look a mess. Just imagine how pretty you’re gonna look, when you're all knocked up with my babies.”

The mention of being full, swollen with Quaritch’s babies makes your stomach pool with warmth, and your eyes begin to shimmer with desire. Shamefully, you wrap both your hands around one of his own, your frame now resting atop of his, your throbbing ass planted on his lap. “I want your babies, Quaritch,” you say eagerly, your heart racing in your chest as Quaritch’s hands gently rub your ass, in an attempt to soothe the pain. “Quartich, I want them so bad.”

“Quaritch, huh?” His brow line quirks upwards, and your face floods with warmth. “What happened to daddy, bunny? Got all eager and desperate to be knocked up, that you forgot this was a punishment?”

You shake your head, trying to calm your nerves, your slick painting his thighs as you correct yourself. "Daddy, I want your babies so bad. Please." You wiggle against him, your hands grabbing at his face, placing desperate kisses against his lips.

Quaritch’s ears flicker on his head, and his eyes soften momentarily as he gently kisses you back. The intimate moment is fleeting, though, and his fingers pinch at your ass and you jolt, pulling away and hiding your head in his chest. “Not right now, bunny. Naughty girls don’t get to decide what you want, and you’re so cockdrunk that you don’t even know what you’re saying.”

You want to protest, argue that you know exactly what you’re saying because you want Quaritch’s babies so bad, even when you’re not rutting against him like a horny little bunny. But the argument would just fall on deaf ears, and you’d only be getting another spanking - which you don’t want, so you stay quiet, nodding your head like an obedient bunny does.

You’re pleased that you did stay quiet, though, because Quaritch eagerly places his face between your legs, beginning to use his face to fuck and toy with your cunt.

It's so much better than rutting against your pillow in an attempt to chase a mediocre orgasm. Quaritch’s lips are pressing eagerly against your pussy, and you try to muffle the gasp which slips past your lips but you just can't. He knows your weak spots - of course he does, you’re his little bunny - and his tongue works at your clit softly, slowly, pressing slow kisses against your cunt.

“You must’ve been desperate, bunny. Look at how wet you are, just from sucking daddy's cock,” Quaritch murmurs, pulling away from your cunt, tongue wetting his lips as he admires just how puffy and swollen and red your pussy looks. It looks desperate to be used - leaking with so much slick that it looks like it’s crying, and he coos, his breath fanning over your sensitive cunt, causing goosebumps to dart up your skin.

“Needed you so bad, daddy,” you cry, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue skilfully swirls around your clit, lips peppering delicate kisses against you. “Felt so lonely without you here.”

Your hands paw at his head, your stomach pooling with arousal as Quaritch’s tongue toys with you. It feels so good - so painfully good, but every time your little legs begin to shake, he pulls away. He knows you - knows when your orgasm is coming, and he’s denying you of it. Any pleasure is fleeting, slow, dragged out, his tongue swirling against you agonizingly slow.

You mewl pathetically as Quaritch’s lips draw away from your cunt, his fingers caressing the soft flesh of your thighs. “Daddy, I’m sorry,” you whimper, legs twitching at either side of his head as he slowly drags his tongue over your delicate bundle of nerves, his fingers parting your puffy slits. “Please let me cum, I need it,” your voice comes out in a squeak, your stomach tightening as he relentlessly toys with your clit, peppering you with overwhelming waves of pleasure.

Excitement rushes through your body as Quaritch continues to play with your clit, spitting at your cunt lewdly. He doesn’t even swat you away as you start humping against his face needily, and desire pulsates through you when you realise he’s going to let you finish. And you’re so close, your toes curling as he sucks at your sensitive bundle of nerves, your heart pitter-patting in your chest, and your stomach flips as the overwhelming sensation to cum consumes you.

But then it disappears. The fire inside of you burns out, and a broken sob slips past your lips at the absence of your orgasm. You hurt so much - your limbs feel fiery and broken, your muscles sore, and Quaritch blows against your cunt, grinning as your legs flinch shut.

“Oh, bunny,” Quaritch murmurs when your breath begins to hitch, your eyes crinkling shut. Quaritch licks a stripe from your hole to your clit, slow and deliberate, humming as he does so. “You really thought daddy was gonna let you cum? After you’ve been so naughty?”

“Daddy, please,” you cry as Quaritch pulls away for the final time, his hard cock pressing against the soft flesh of your inner thigh, inches away from your weeping cunt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break the rules!”

“That’s not true, bunny.” He shakes his head, pulling you forwards slightly, careful as his fingers part your slits, sighing at how sore and needy your cunt looks. “I saw you humpin’ that pillow like a god-damned cat in heat. Jesus, you were ruttin’ away like nobody’s business. But I’ll be nice, bunny, since you’re so needy an’ all.”

“Nice?”

Quaritch hums, his cock sliding through your slits, slapping lewdly against your clit, lewd, wet sounds echoing throughout his bedroom. “I’ll let you cum, bunny. But only around my cock, and only when I say you can. Deal?”

“Will you cum when I cum?” You ask eagerly, your blood rushing to your head as the tip of his cock presses against your hole. “Will you, daddy?”

“I’ll do what I want when I want to,” Quaritch says pointedly, but his ears flicker as he thinks of stuffing you full of his seed when you’re leaking your own around his. “You ready, bun?”

You try to ignore the flash of hurt at his words, because you desperately want him to cum inside of you and get you all pregnant and full like he mentioned earlier. “Ready, daddy,” you say breathlessly, withering slightly as his tip pushes inside of you, stretching your cunt out painfully.

It’s so painful that you feel like you’re dying. The stretch is impossible, and with each slow push of his hips, Quaritch wonders if you’ll split in two around him. He can’t remember you being this tight before - maybe his rules were a little too harsh. Maybe he should’ve actually instructed you to use the dildo he’d gotten made for you rather than forcing you to abstain.

His lips are set in a frown, and his brow crinkles in worry because he wants to punish you but he can tell that going any rougher than this slow, rolling motion of his hips will hurt you. And your eyes are pricking with tears, but not the cockdrunk, needy kind - genuine tears, because the stinging of your cunt is so, so painful.

But also so sinfully good.

Your small hands raise to cup Quaritch’s cheeks, and your nose brushes against his, a broken mewl forcing its way up your throat as you clench down around him. “Want you, daddy,” you tell him as his hands come up to play with your tits, his fingers rolling your nipples skilfully, sending shockwaves shooting down your spine. “Harder. Please.”

“This is supposed to be a punishment, bunny,” he says throatily, but his voice is clouded with lust and a hint of desperation. You’re just too cute to say no to, and Quaritch presses a rough kiss to your lips before his hips begin to roll into you.

Quartich begins to move, his pace quickening, easing from slow and gentle to rough and fast. The stretch burns, but the pain aligns with the pleasure of his tip brushing against the sensitive spot inside of your cunt, and the stinging is dulled by the senseless pleasure that you're feeling.

“You left for so long,” you mutter, your eyes pricking with tears as his hips smash into you, his head lulling into your neck, his tail curling possessively around your ankle. “Only supposed to be a few days.”

“I know, bunny. Couldn’t help but touch yourself, could you? Those rules were just so hard to follow, and you’re just a bunny who thinks with her cunt and not her brain, aren’t you?” Quaritch responds, his words hitching in his throat slightly as your walls clench down around him.

“Yes daddy, ‘m just a dumb bunny who thinks with her cunt and not her brain,” you agree, eager to please him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head in ecstasy as he fucks up into you. Quaritch’s teeth graze your neck, biting into your soft flesh ever so slightly, and you feel him draw blood, but you’re too focused on the rolling of his hips and the painful stretching of your cunt to acknowledge it.

You feel like a broken doll, so raw and sensitive, and you cry as Quartich licks up the blood he’d drawn, his cock rolling into you at an unfathomable pace. The sound of your cries and moans are muffled by the noises of your squelching cunt and his heavy balls slapping against your ass, and you feel so cockdrunk and so needy for him.

“Gonna cum, baby?” Quaritch asks, watching as your eyes crinkle shut and your legs begin to shake, and he moves his hand down to your abdomen, pressing on your belly, watching you squirm. “Go on, then, cum.”

“Want you to cum with me, daddy,” you plead, trying to ignore the tightening of your stomach and the way your body begins to grow weak with every thrust of his hips.

Quartich grunts, watching as you paint the bottom of his cock white with your ring of arousal. “God, bunny, ‘m gonna full you up so good, make you nice and round and pump you full of my babies, huh?”

You cry out when he speaks, nodding your head eagerly, the dull pain of your throbbing ass and your stretched cunt pulsing through you. You’ve tried to hold back, but you can’t, and you clench down around him, gasping as Quaritch tells you, “cum, bunny.”

So, you do. And it feels perfect - so liberating as your cum gushes all over him, your frame shaking against his, and Quaritch’s tail tightens on your ankle as he cums, too, his hips rolling ferociously as he fucks into you desperately.

“Quartich,” you cry, your voice strained, shaky as you embrace him, his strong, Earthly scent clouding your senses. “I need you so bad.”

“You’ve got me, bun,” Quaritch tells you, his head nuzzling into your neck, peppering gentle kisses to your skin. “You’ve got me. I’m not goin' anywhere.”

There’s a dull throbbing inside of you by the time Quaritch pulls out of your cunt. He’s not even fully soft - still somewhat hard, but he eyes your exhausted frame, and his features soften. You look so battered and broken, and he feels somewhat bad, because you’ve been so desperate for him.

He was only supposed to be gone for a couple of days, and it did transcend into two weeks. So, when you make grabby hands at him, Quaritch simply abides, pulling you into him, smoothing down your hair, and holding you close to his chest.

If he had it his way, he’d never leave you again.

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shutit-haha · 8 months

Text

Priest Bakugo x Succubus reader

Priest Bakugo who as soon as you see him you know you have to have him. He's a difficult man however so you lose all your demon traits and waltz into the church needing to claim sanction. You're defenseless and in desperate need of help, and of course a heroic man like him can't resist. It's actually Deku who helps you get settled, Bakugo kind of just watches from the side lines. He's suspicious of you.

Priest Bakugo who allows himself to be ruled by suspicion and skepticism. This means you have to play that helpless role like no one has ever played before. He helps when you get lost in the church (which is often) and always reaches for that book on the top shelf you can never seem to reach. He makes you food at odd hours, after you had an 'accident' in the kitchen. You pull your own weight of course, I mean you still have to earn your keep. However Bakugo would never let you do any of the heavy lifting not after watching you do it the first time.

Priest Bakugo who it takes forever to earn trust from.

Priest Bakugo who makes you become this helpless person you've been playing. You need to feed, it's been too long. Whatever you had stored has officially depleted and you need your fill. Now you really can't lift anything too heavy, now you actual struggle to reach those top shelves. You're so light-headed from not having eaten that you get lost nearly all the time in a building you've lived in for more than a month now.

Priest Bakugo who catches on to you being ditzier than usual, who notices your conversations aren't the same. "What's the matter with you?" He eyes you like he did the first day you arrived here, only this time it's for injury not for horns.

"I'm fine," you lie.

Priest Bakugo who finds you in his room. You're needy, grinding down on his pillow face in his sheets to catch a whiff of his smell. When he finds you, you're all huffy and whiny, mumbling his name. "What are you doing?!"

You jump, back straight, eyes wide. "I- I'm-I'm sorry Sir."

"You- you've been caught." He mocks you.

You're hot and if he gets even a little closer he's bound to be swept in. You're scared, yet struggling to lie to him. Why? You've done it for so long it shouldn't be a problem now. "I need- I'm-"

He's getting impatient, "you're hysterical." The blonde takes a step forward, that's when it hits him. He feels as if he's standing directly in front of the sun, he's sweaty and his black trousers feel tight. He takes a shaky step back, rigid body instantly relaxing once outside of your range.

Your large eyes are frightened but that won't work for him anymore. "Katsuki," you gasp for air.

"You lied."

"You wouldn't have let me in had I told the truth." Your curling in on yourself now, pain blooming in your stomach, it drips down to your shaky thighs. You're starving, you're weak, you need to feed.

"Liar," he snarls.

"Katsuki please!"

Priest Bakugo who chains you up in the basement.

Priest Bakugo who trusted you, who feels hurt and betrayed.

Priest Bakugo who upon hearing your wails tries to convince himself that you deserve this. He tells himself it's a punishment a demon like you was bound to face. If that's the case then why does he find himself slinking down to the basement on the third day.

Priest Bakugo who hadn't realized how provocatively he had tied you up. Your arms are above you dangling from the ceiling, legs spread due to your ankles being chained to the floor. He was kind enough to leave you on your knees, although the marks on your wrist still show strain. You're dripping wet, head hanging forward. "Katsuki," you can smell him before he even enters the space.

"You're gonna die aren't you," he knows this. All demons die without feeding, but the idea of you dying is just so... sad. It's heartbreaking.

"Unless I eat," voice airy and light. Your pupils are blown, hair sticking to your sweaty skin. "You don't wanna come any closer, it'll have an effect on you too."

"Is that on purpose," he takes a step forward anyway.

Priest Bakugo who's not afraid.

Priest Bakugo who doesn't want you to die for some odd reason. He spent so much of his life to being the best exorcist and yet when it comes to killing you- a demon who's lied to him, who's played him a fool- he can't seem to do it.

"On purpose?" You mumble to yourself, repeating the question so that it may hold some substance in your head. You lurch forward trying to reach for him only for the chains to pull painfully from the force of your movement. "No! I would never do that on purpose!" Not anymore at least, "not to you."

"You'd do it to others then," he sneers down at you.

"I don't want others," you huff, tears in your eyes. You're so hungry, you need friction, you need skin. "I can't-," you don't know how to say it. "I can't control that part of me." You've never had to speak with words when like this, you could always just communicate using your body but Katsuki- Bakugo has made that difficult for you.

"How hungry are you right now?"

Priest Bakugo who's curious, who's gotten in your space. "Starving," your horns and tail poke out. He touches them, dragging his hand along your horn to see how sharp it is. They're smooth and such a pretty color, he brings the tip of his finger to the end. "Careful," you gasp. "They're sharp, I haven't-" you swallow, "need to file them down." Sure enough when he pricks his finger on the end, a bead of blood is drawn from his skin.

It smells so sweet, you groan from the smokey caramel scent. Your leathery tail unconsciously wraps itself around his calf, the end of it rubbing the muscle you find there. You look up at him with those pleading eyes of yours.

Priest Bakugo who can't resist.

Priest Bakugo who is reciting prayers in his head in order to counter act your power.

Priest Bakugo who can't remember any scripture, who's thoughts are filled with you. "What," he coos patronizingly.

"Please," you try to rub your thighs together but the chains keep them separate. "Please," you try to lift your head higher but the metal round your neck prevents that too.

"You want something from me?" He's playing dumb now, if only to see how desperate you can really get.

You nod vigorously, "yes please. Want you, only you, want-"

"What," his eyes are dark with lust. "This," he brings his finger to your lips. Your tongue pokes out to lick the blood but he pulls away before you can. You whine just as his other hand grabs your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut while he caresses your face. "You wanna taste me," you try to nod in his hold. "Here," he presses his finger to your lips. The blood smears on them adding coloring, and oddly enough he finds it hot.

Your lips wrap around his finger with no hesitation, and your sucking till you can't taste it anymore.

Priest Bakugo who's struggling to control himself. He yanks his finger out of your mouth and your eyes shoot open to see where he's going. He chuckles lowly, "I'm right here." Taking the finger coated in your spit, he brings it up to his mouth and sucks.

Priest Bakugo who likes how you taste. You're divine, absolutely heavenly despite your origin being anything but that. He has to keep his eyes open while he taste you, fearing that if he closes them his fantasies will lead him astray. "Is that enough to satiate you?"

You whine, "it is but- but-"

"But- but," he's mocking you again. It makes you drip even more and he groans when he sees it on your leg. He scoffs, "you that obsessed with me?"

You nod, once again trying to rub your thighs together.

"Oh you poor thing, poor little liar."

"You wouldn't have," your panting, head hanging low again. "You wouldn't have let me in."

"And you just had to have me."

You nod.

"So that was enough then?"

Your back to looking up at him, "yes but I want more."

He laughs, "you want more?" He shakes his head at you slowly, "nah, I think you're fine for now."

"Please, please," you beg. "Katsuki please, please sir!" He's leaving, shutting the door behind him and heading back up the stairs.

Priest Bakugo who comes back the next day. He was fearful of you dying at first but now.... "Katsuki," there's that sweet voice of yours again. "You're back," you smile at him lazily. He only grunts in reply. "Does that mean I get to feed again," you look up at him excitedly.

"Thought you said you had enough yesterday."

You whine, "Katsuki please."

Priest Bakugo who would have never let the two of you get close if he knew what you were.

Priest Bakugo who would have never let you call him by name if he had known.

Priest Bakugo who doesn't regret it. "What do you need from me," he has an idea as to which demon you are but...

"You," you lurch forward, "your body." Your arms are up and back in this position, neck straining against the metal collar.

"You're gonna hurt yourself," he cups your cheek.

"Please let me have you, please, please, please, please." Your eyes are shut, you're crying and your slick is beginning to pool on the floor. You were going crazy after yesterday, you weren't able to sleep. Your wrist hurt from pulling up on your chains so that you could try and shut your thighs. Your wrist hurt from yanking down on your chains so that you could try and bring yourself relief.

Priest Bakugo who wants to be cruel, to pull his dick out and shove it down your throat. He wants to control the speed, to pull at your hair and make you gag on him. He wants to watch you swallow his cum under that metal collar of yours.

Oh but you're crying, his sweet little liar is crying.

Priest Bakugo who lets you go. He does your hands first, which are quick to paw at his bulge. He considers keeping the collar on you but ultimately gets rid of that too, so now your mouth is placing hot kisses on his stomach. Your tail is wrapped around his calf, rubbing up and down while he struggles to reach your ankles.

"You gotta let me go," he's breathing heavily. You're kissing and palming him, and it's distracting.

"No," you whine. His breath hitches when he feels you whimper against his flesh.

"Gotta get the rest of you out."

"No," you whine again. So he takes a step back, he keeps doing so until he's out of your reach. There you are on hands and knees trying to crawl to him. "You're too far," you whine.

"I told you."

"Katsuki, untie me, let me go please."

"Don't you start crying, I told you this would happen."

"Katsuki," you wail.

"Alright, alright," he squats down to unchain your ankles. You're kissing at his neck, hands on his arms and chest.

Priest Bakugo who can't focus with you doing all that. "You gotta let me breath," he grits. One ankle comes loose, and your already trying to wrap that leg around his waist. He falls forward with you putting him off balance. You keep kissing and now sucking, while he struggles to undo the other chain.

Priest Bakugo who doesn't want to take you on the floor. He's trying to negotiate with you, trying to get you to come with him to the room. You're so needy though, so desperate, you want him right now. "Not gonna give it to you here," he hisses when you grind up against him.

"Don't care," your hands are reaching down to his pants.

"Stop," he growls pining your wrist to the floor.

"Katsuki," you writhe underneath him.

"Not here," he growls. In a flash you've flipped the two of you over and are somehow dragging him up to his room. You're moving faster than he ever has, and within seconds you've reached his destination.

Priest Bakugo who's rough even in the missionary position. He kisses your neck and speaks to you so sweetly.

Priest Bakugo who kisses your tears, who holds your hand when you ask.

Priest Bakugo who is a virgin and plows you into the mattress both on purpose and on accident. You like it rough anyways but this is because he actually has no idea as to what he's doing. He's shaking when he finally finishes, trembling over you yet still trying to keep himself up.

Priest Bakugo who collapses on top of you the moment you pull him down.

Priest Bakugo who is mortified because the two of you aren't married.

Priest Bakugo who has to be taught after care.

Priest Bakugo who thinks he might be in love with you.

Priest Bakugo who accidently says it out loud. "I love you too," you kiss his forehead. There's silence and then.. "Katsuki, I need another round."

Priest Bakugo who talks about marriage while he thrust deep into you. "Gonna- gonna put a ring on that finger of yours," he grits out. "Gotta make you my wife, its-" he hisses, "too good."

"Ok," you gasp when he hits especially deep this time. Your back arches with a moan, "ok."

"Marry me- fffuck- you gotta marry me. Gonna- shit- make you marry me."

"Ok, ok," you pant.

"Mine all mine."

"Yours all yours."

#x reader #bakugou katsuki #Priest #succubi #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha #smut #headcanon

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confiscatedpeaches · 8 months

Text

W. Afton x Reader [Brat Taming] Part 2

part one

tags: @billhaderstan420 , @bmbsonmondaymornings , @mxstly-melancholy

Minors DNI. Reader is assumed to be 18+ in an established BDSM relationship with William Afton. This is my first formal BDSM style smut fic, so be kind in the comments! Feedback is encouraged!

TW: use of restraints, generally BDSM, dom/sub, age gap, use of word "daddy", forced orgasm, CNC

Note: slag means slut

He slaps a pair of pink fuzzy cuffs onto your wrists and tightens them.

"You're coming with me sweetheart, you're gonna really regret messing with me tonight love."

You knew this was coming. Of course he wasn't going to just forgive you for your bratty actions. Even so, fear and arousal twist at your insides. What on earth did he have planned for you?

He practically drags you up the stairs. He laughs as he pulls you along by your collar. He opens the door to your bedroom and tosses you onto the bed. Locking the door behind him, he turns to you.

"I'm going to make you cum so much that you'll be quivering and begging for my forgiveness by the end of it."

Orgasm denial was a common tactic of his to get you to behave, but multiple orgasms, you had no idea what that would do to you. You've always been sensitive, after just one orgasm you find yourself completely spent and strung out. Part of you was already beginning to regret your bratting, but there was no use begging for forgiveness now.

He walks over to you, grabbing you again by the collar, pulling you up. He drags you to a wall that is covered head-to-toe with whips, paddles, and various restraints. Shoving you up against it, he lifts your hands above your head, securing your cuffs tightly to a hook on the wall. Just high enough to make you stand on the front of your feet, almost tip-toeing.

"Spread your legs so I can restrain them."

Without meaning to, you chuckle nervously.

"Oh you think this is funny lovey?

"N-no, I'm sorry Mr. Afton I didn't mean to--"

He slaps you.

"Didn't mean to what? Be a gigantic bratty whore? Didn't mean to refuse to listen to Daddy? Please, you meant all of it darling.

"Now.. open. your. fucking. legs."

His use of Daddy struck you, he only uses it when he really wants to degrade you. To remind you of how much older he is than you. To remind you that you're just his little girl, and he's the big scary one. You refused to give in so easily to his degradation.

"....Make me."

His hand shot up to grab you by the neck, forcing you to look into his cold grey eyes. He leans in and presses his forehead against yours.

"Well, it's your funeral love... You asked for this."

He forces his knee in between your legs, splitting them open. Leaning down slightly, he wraps and tightens the straps around your left ankle, then your right. He lifts up your skirt to reveal your lack of underwear.

"Oh, well at least my little slag follows some of our rules."

He steps back, admiring you, exposed and partially nude, strapped against his bedroom wall. Turning to the bed, he crouches down and pulls out a box of toys. He pulls out the most powerful vibrator you own. This magic wand was always a little too intense for you; you couldn't even get past the second setting without squirting and cumming within thirty seconds. He was not playing around with you anymore, this was about pure and total submission. This wasn't just funishment, this was about punishment. It wouldn't be enough to play along and beg after a couple orgasms. No, you'd need to truly beg for his forgiveness this time. You'd need to be truly and utterly sorry.

He plugs it into the wall next to you. After clicking a couple buttons, it whirs to life. The buzzing is loud, louder than you thought the little device could be capable of making. It was set to the highest setting.

Without giving you much time to prepare, he presses it against your greedy clit. Almost instantly you jolt and try to turn away from the device, but you're unable to move. Hot juices begin to drip down your inner thighs. Within seconds you've squirted, and then the first orgasm rips through you.

"Please... Mr. Afton... aahhh!" You cry.

"Too late now bunny, I need to teach you a lesson."

Pain and pressure build within you, another orgasm was coming and you could do nothing to stop it. The device was so strong you could feel the vibrations through your ass, back, and spine. It felt cold and hot at the same time, burning through you without remorse.

"aaahhgg.... daddy.... please...ghhhh."

Another orgasm ripples through you. You arch your back against the restraints. Sweat runs down your shoulder blades.

"Please... no more... I'm sorry Daddy aaahh!"

"Sorry what was that? You're sorry?"

He presses the vibrator into you harder. It feels like the vibrations are torturing every molecule and atom in your feminine form. Yet another orgasm, the third one to be exact, is wrenched out of you. Moaning and squirming under him.

You started to hear animalistic desperate sounds. Unable to tell that they were coming from you at first. They sounded so pathetic, so whore-ish. That's exactly what you are. Afton's little whore. Nothing more, nothing less. You exist to please him. You should feel lucky to be with him, but instead you decided to be a little brat and disobey your ultimate master. This was too much for you, this had to stop. You swear internally that you'll never disobey him like this again.

Climax after climax, you begin to lose count.

"I'm sorry Daddy please...! I'm sorry please forgive me.."

"Good... we're getting there, just a little further... beg a little more sweetie."

"Daddy please... I was being stupid, very stupid... Please stop I'll listen I swear on my life please!"

"Still not good enough darling, try a little harder."

You cum again. The wand and his hand starting to become slick from you.

"I am your pathetic little whore... I was wrong... please god... please I can't... I'm sorry.. I won't do that ever again.."

He pulls the vibrator away.

"Good bunny. You promise you're sorry?"

"Yes! I promise I promise!"

"Good girl, the rules are there for a reason see? That wasn't so bad, I could have done a lot worse love."

He unties your legs and unbuckles your handcuffs. You nearly crumple to the floor before he catches you.

"There there love, I've got you, it's okay now."

----

Minutes later, you're fast asleep in bed after Afton cleaned you up and fed you some water. You knew he could be harsh, but in the end you were his one and only little bunny. This was much better than being punished, you decide.

#william afton x reader #william afton #william afton smut

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

Text

My Future In You | 1.2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be out of the academy by now. Instead, he’s retaking his senior year of college and praying to god that he gets into flight school. Mav’s gone, his mom’s gone. He’s mad at the world. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, angst, drama etc etc, enemies to lovers if you wanna call it that, no major warnings in this chapter

…

“No, I dated someone with that name.” Bradley decides, shaking his head as he sips on his Diet Coke. You narrow your eyes at him.

“If we’re going to rule out names because of your love life, our kid is going to end up with a name from the seventeenth century.” You complain, grabbing some fries as you look over the girl’s side of your list.

Bradley chuckles softly, amused by your comment. He squeezes your ankle.

“Fine. Let’s talk boy names first because I have one that I really would like.” He tells you, stroking his thumb tenderly along your calf. You’re both sitting on your bed, you by the headboard and him with his back to the wall, your feet in his lap.

“Okay.” You nod your head at him.

“Nick.” He decides.

You scoff as you grab your drink and sip from the straw, “Sure, if I’m giving birth to a middle aged man with credit card debt and a wife he hates.

Bradley stares at you.

“I mean — that’s an old man name. Baby Nick? — It sounds like he’s balding already.” You reason with him. Bradley’s lips quirk, amused by you trashing the name so much. He knows something you don’t. You stare at him, trying to figure out why he’s looking at you like that.

It hits you.

“Oh shit, is that your dead dad’s name?” You gasp.

Bradley shakes his head and strikes a line through the name, “The world has been without a Nick Bradshaw for like eighteen years, I guess it can go a little more.”

“I’m sorry.” You wince.

Bradley shrugs, lifting his napkin to wipe his hands, “Let me hear your names.”

The two of you go back and forth, sharing names and insulting each of them in turn. You throw yourself back against the pillows, draping an arm over your face, groaning in frustration.

“Our kid isn’t going to have a name, they’re going to be baby Seresin for their entire life because we can’t agree on anything!” You growl.

“Baby Bradshaw.” Bradley corrects you, sipping from his straw, still looking down at his own list. A pillow hits the side of his head, almost making him drop his sprite. He turns his head and raises his eyebrow at you.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, honey.” He comments, throwing the pillow back, his lips quirking as it hits you in the face. You bolt upright and glare at him.

“Pregnant or not, I’ll kick your ass.”

Bradley’s lips tilt upwards into a grin. He sets his drink down and shrugs his shoulders, “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been attacked by a Seresin.”

He’s such a cocky asshole when he wants to be. You set your list down and push up onto your knees, shoving at his chest.

Bradley smiles. He lifts his chin, smirking at you defiantly. There’s a split second where he thinks that you might just take the leap, lean forwards and kiss him.

“Hey…”

Both of you jump apart and turn together. Ryan’s standing in the doorway, one strap from his backpack on his shoulder. He looks between you and Bradley. Both on your bed, notepads pushed to the side. You’re on your knees, your hand is on his shoulder.

A muscle in Ryan’s jaw ticks.

“Am I interrupting?” He says quietly. He’s a pretty patient guy, and he really likes you - he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions. But, at some point, he passed the need to jump and has now arrived to the conclusion all by himself.

“No!” You leap up from the bed. Bradley has the sense to grab both notebooks and pull them onto his lap, then close them both.

“Ryan, how’s it going, man?” Bradley starts to push himself up from the bed. You turn quickly and glare at him. He closes his mouth and remains on the edge of your bed.

He sits silently and thinks about how he should have kissed you and taught your boyfriend to take a hint and back off.

“What’s going on, baby?” Ryan’s voice is soft, tender. Bradley stills, realising he wouldn’t have reacted that way. Bradley’s eyes fall down to look at the sweater covering your developing stomach. He looks back up at the Ryan’s softened expressions.

He just came over to find his girl sitting in bed with another guy, and he’s still giving her the benefit of the doubt.

That’s probably the kind of guy that would be a good influence around a baby.

It might not have been Bradley’s first instinct, but Bradley can be like that too. He’s certain of it.

“Bradley needed tutoring, the idiot failed Public Relations twice now.” You tell Ryan. He looks at Bradley. Bradley smiles stiffly and nods his head — the idiot comment is something to address later.

“You’re… tutoring him?” Ryan looks between the two of you, unbelieving. You nod your head quickly.

Solely in the interest of proving that he isn’t an idiot, Bradley flicks back a couple of pages in his notebook and holds up the notes for Ryan to see. They’re from when Bradley was tutoring someone a while ago, but the different pen colours and comments sell the story.

“Oh.” Ryan nods softly as he looks over the page. His gaze flickers back to you. You smile sheepishly at him.

Bradley stands up finally, “Well, I should go. Thanks for the help. I’ll see you on tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?” Ryan asks, looking at Bradley instead of you.

“Oh, it’s Jake’s birthday — they’re having a thing over at their place.” You explain, watching Bradley step past Ryan and out into the hall.

“You didn’t mention.” Ryan comments. Bradley cocks an eyebrow at you. Kind of odd that you didn’t invite your boyfriend, in his mind.

“Well, you’re invited, obviously. It’ll be fun.” You force yourself to smile at him.

“Guess I’ll see you both there.” Bradley smiles.

The hour drive home gives him time to think. He knows you and Ryan are probably arguing right now, and that it’s somewhat his fault. It’s not his fault that you refuse to tell your boyfriend.

Bradley had a realisation the other day. Ryan has been spending most of his time at your place. Almost every day from what he hears. Sure, there’s a chance that this is because of how much you guys like each other. Bradley thinks otherwise. Your parents still aren’t talking to Jake, which means they absolutely aren’t speaking to you. Bradley hasn’t seen you shed a tear about it since before New Years’.

Ryan’s a distraction.

By the time Bradley’s home, he has a couple of texts waiting to open. Most notably, one from Kenzie - last Bradley heard, she had a boyfriend. Clearly not anymore because twenty minutes later, he’s letting her in and she’s leading the way to his room. She remembers where it is.

Bradley can’t pretend that he hasn’t missed her. Kenzie’s a great friend. But, she and Bradley hook up regularly when they aren’t seeing other people, so she tends to disappear each time she gets a boyfriend.

And each time they reunite, it’s just as good. Bradley groans softly as he runs his fingers through his hair, trying to catch his breath. Kenzie pulls open the top drawer to his nightstand and grabs the box of tissues. She wipes her chest off and moves to put the box back.

She frowns slightly.

“Um… Bradley,”

Bradley lets out a heavy breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead, lifting his gaze to look at the girl beside him in his bed.

“What’s this?”

He knows exactly what she’s talking about the moment that she asks the question. He sits upright quickly and glances down, like he doesn’t know.

Truthfully, he had forgotten that it was in there. The spare sonogram photo that he was meant to pass on to Jake. His is safely hidden behind his driver’s license in his wallet.

“I have no idea.” Bradley decides that’s the best answer to go with.

Kenzie turns to look at him and raises her eyebrows in disbelief. He glances down at her bare chest in a moment of weakness and immediately realises that he has just made the incorrect choice twice in a row.

“Oh my god! — What is the matter with you?” She shrieks, leaping up from the bed and grabbing her underwear from the floor.

Bradley takes a moment before he answers this question.

“It’s not what it looks like,” He tells her, shifting to the edge of the bed and standing up. He grabs his boxers and pulls them up his legs as she searches for her jeans.

“It looks like you got someone pregnant!” She bites back.

“Okay, well… I did, but-“

“Oh my god!” She shrieks again. Bradley winces at the sound. She throws her jeans at him, he narrowly dodges and frowns at her.

“I am not a homewrecker, Bradley! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this! — I could kill you right now!”

“I’m not dating her! She has a boyfriend! — I barely know her, she’s just Jake’s little sister.” Bradley realises how bad that sounds as he’s saying it, but he commits to the sentence anyway.

“You got Jake’s little sister pregnant and he let you live?”

She’s a cheerleader, she knows about the team and its intricacies. She’s also a lot smarter than people give her credit for, and she knows Bradley well. She knows that he and Jake barely get along at the best of times.

Truthfully, he might make every bad decision he can, but Kenzie loves Bradley. She gets him. She has sat with him in the library more times than she should have. She’s hurt that this is the first she’s hearing about this.

“Just about.” Bradley chuckles in agreement. He lifts her jeans and extends them towards her as somewhat of a peace offering.

She shakes her head and snatches them out of his hands. Bradley scratches the back of his neck sheepishly as she steps into them, knowing that he’s in trouble. Kenzie zips and buttons her pants, then folds her arms over her chest.

“She’s keeping the baby?” She asks curiously.

“Uh-huh. Due at the beginning of August.” Bradley nods his head.

Kenzie stares at him seriously, then raises an eyebrow, “And… you’re going to be involved?”

“Yeah.” Bradley mumbles.

Kenzie steps forwards and wraps her arms around his waist. He hugs her uncertainly. She pulls back and looks up, then presses her index finger into his chest, her face stern.

“You need to get your shit together.” She tells him seriously.

Bradley frowns slightly.

“I mean it, Bradshaw - if you screw up this kid then I’ll personally hunt you down.”

His face softens as he understands what she’s talking about. He leans his head back and sighs, she steps away from him and pulls one of his t-shirts over her head.

“Her new boyfriend has his shit together,” Bradley mutters, reaching for his shorts and stepping into them. His head hangs low, he’s not meeting her gaze. “He’s a photographer, musician - he’s got a job lined up after graduation, here in the city with her. I’m going to be halfway across the country. Even if I was here… I’m starting to think he’d be a better dad than I would.”

“He probably would be.” Kenzie agrees. Bradley lifts his head and frowns at her. It’s harsh, but it’s what he needs to hear. “Well, I assume he would be. Because he’s with her, and you’re still being a little boy, screwing around.”

His lips part. He scrunches his brows together, hurt, “What am I supposed to do? - I can’t come between them, she would hate me.”

Kenzie sighs.

“I’m not telling you to come between them, idiot - because you’re right, she would hate you,” Kenzie explains herself. Bradley shoves his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “But, she might start to trust you a little more if you grow up and stop hooking up with random girls.”

“You’re not rando-“

“Just prove to her that you can give her some stability. I’ve been saying this for months - you’re holding yourself back. Pull your head out of your ass, grow up.” She says sternly.

Bradley nods uncertainly.

“Okay. Now, don’t you dare text me unless it’s an invitation to the baby shower.”

His lips quirk slightly, he gives her a small nod. Kenzie pushes up onto her tiptoes and kisses her cheek, then leaves him.

Bradley spends all night thinking about what she said. He didn’t want to grow up. He wanted to be selfish. He spent twenty years trying to hold it together and be as good as he could for his mom, he didn’t go to the academy - he went to college, he cared for her when she was sick. Without complaint, and he would happily do it again. That’s why he never felt guilty for his behaviour recently.

He had begun to realise that it’s easy to be selfish.

After everything he had been through, Bradley figured he deserved the easy route.

But then he found out about the pregnancy, and he agreed to step up. It’s just that now, he’s starting to realise what that means.

He leans against the kitchen counter as Jake greets his guests. You arrive with Ryan and it’s clear that something’s wrong. Bradley’s brows furrow, your cheeks are flushed and slightly blotchy - you’ve been crying. You split off from Ryan and corner Jake as soon as you arrive.

Bradley watches. Jake doesn’t seem to pick up on it. He grins at you, hugs you, the two of you talk happily for a few minutes. Then, Jake takes the gift bag from you and you turn off towards the downstairs bathroom. He leaves his drink on the counter and follows after you.

“Slow down, hey - hey,” He calls to you. You groan and lean your head back, resting a hand against your abdomen as you slow down and turn to look at him. Bradley’s eyes fall down to your hand placement, then widen. He reaches out for you, “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine! I just need to pee, really bad.” You shift impatiently on your feet, wondering how you’re going to take almost five more months of this.

“Is something up with you and Ryan? - You look upset.” Bradley says softly, stepping closer to you. You sigh.

“He thinks I’m lying to him, and I am, and I just feel like a fucking awful person. I need to tell him and I can’t do it. Okay? - Can I pee now?” You groan out, turning away from him before he gets a chance to answer. You lock the bathroom door behind you.

Bradley glances back over his shoulder, finding your boyfriend making himself a drink in the kitchen. He looks back at the bathroom door, and then makes his decision. All of this stress isn’t good for his baby. He’ll do the hard part for you.

He turns and walks into the kitchen, certain in his decision.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Bradley asks softly.

Ryan rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his drink, “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

As far as he’s concerned, your older brother’s friend has a crush on you and is trying to ruin what you have with him. Ryan doesn’t like Bradley and he isn’t going to pretend that he does.

Bradley narrows his eyes. He doesn’t like your boyfriend’s tone. Nor does he like the look in his eye as he glares at him.

There goes the plan to do this nicely. Bradley changes his mind on how he’s going to deliver this news.

“I was thinking that you and I should probably get to know each other a little bit better,” Bradley explains, leaning his hands against the counter. “Since we’ll probably be spending a lot of time together.”

Ryan scoffs quietly.

“How do you figure that?” He asks. He does not plan on spending any more time than absolutely necessary with Bradley Bradshaw. He’s just here because you asked him to be.

Bradley keeps his gaze on the party.

“Oh, you know — because of the baby.” He explains calmly, clearly. There’s no room for misinterpretation. Bradley makes sure that Ryan hears what he says.

Ryan stills. He pulls back and turns his head towards Bradley, brows scrunching together, in confusion and annoyance. He wants to smack that smug look off of Bradley’s face more than anything and he really isn’t a violent guy.

“What? — What baby?”

Bradley shrugs his shoulders and turns his head, stoic and far too confident for his own good, “Mine and your girlfriend’s.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” Ryan stands up straighter and squares his shoulders. Even like that, Bradley’s still a head taller than him. Bradley’s ego soars as he stands upright and squares his shoulders in the same way, towering over Ryan.

“Oh no, she didn’t tell you?” Bradley says gently, lips quirking upward into a smirk. Ryan’s brows scrunch together. Bradley shrugs his broad shoulders, “She’s starting to show, man — I dunno how you haven’t noticed.”

Bradley says the last part lowly, stepping slightly closer to Ryan. He gets the reaction he wants, Ryan shoves hard at his chest. Bradley smiles at him, silently daring Ryan to make one wrong move here.

Jake, in the middle of a conversation, does a double take. His eyes widen slightly as he finds Bradley and Ryan in the kitchen, glaring at each other, their shoulders squared and their chests pressed together.

“Fuck, hold this.” Jake shoves his drink into someone else’s hands and rushes for the kitchen.

“You’re lying.” Ryan shakes his head, frowning. Bradley pulls his wallet from his front pocket and opens it. Ryan’s eyes land on the sonogram picture, his lips parting slightly. His heart sinks. His gaze flickers back up to Bradley’s. He sets his drink down on the counter and turns.

“Ryan, wait.” Jake sighs.

“Fuck this.” Ryan’s voice cracks slightly as he waves Jake off and heads for the door. Jake turns to Bradley and narrows his eyes at him seriously.

“We had a deal.” Jake whispers angrily.

Bradley shrugs his shoulders and sips at his beer, “He needed to know.”

…

@thedroneranger

@chaoticweirdogeek

@alanadetigy

@itsmytimetoodream

@oldnatgwenaccount

@khaylin27

@bioodforbiood

@luckyladycreator2

@mizzzpink

@mak-32

@cherrycola27

@unordinare

@shanimallina87

@marvel-f1-and-more

@heli991113

@pauv-0414

@ghxst-heart

@momc95

@asteria33

@lilyevanswhore

@diamond-3

@galaxy-moon

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut

693 notes · View notes

captain-mj · 1 year

Note

Okay okay okay, now that you have ventured into the territory of Ghost x König I finally have to find the courage to send you a request. I need more of this ship.

I don't have many specifics, enemies to lovers is always great, but Monster (any type, werewolf/bear, your avian soldiers, other unique folklore related creatures etc.) König and Handler Ghost? A combination/variation of the two? Ooooh, in general I am in love with your fantasy AUs. So whatever strikes your inspiration, if you have a completely different idea that comes up in regards to this ship I will probably eat it up, so feel free to venture away from the ideas provided.

If you do this I will kiss- oh wait I heard threats are the social norm in this ask box so uhm... yes... if you do this I will refrain from stealing your teeth. Yes, yes.

Werebear Koenig werebear Koenig werebear Koenig. I got you. Enemies to lovers? No problem! Also Ghost is a werewolf :)

I rewrote this six times before i liked it so pls... let me keep my teeth... I know it's short but I'll make a part 2 or something 😭

Ghost considered himself a selfish person generally. He also genuinely did not believe he was a good person. But with König, he tried to be better. König was polite and skilled, he saw no reason to be mean to him. They were only paired up because Ghost could overpower König, a feat not many people on base could boast. More accurately, no one but Ghost could boast. König was paired to him because Ghost didn't need a handler in the typical sense. It meant König didn't have to worry about it. He was new from KorTac, still adjusting to this. They both hated each other.

Ghost wasn't even sure he knew why. Neither had "punished" the other. They shared section of the base, a room, bathroom and hallway due to Ghost being a lieutenant and requesting the privacy, but they had quickly found rules that meant they never, ever saw each other unmasked unless it was on purpose. It meant they avoided each other pretty much constantly as a bonus.

Occasionally, when they did happen to be in the same area at the same time, it was a fragile truce. Their ranks were ignored and so was their work. Instead, they just continued doing what they were doing in as non awkward of a silence as they could manage.

But König slipped up. During a mission, he had shifted without being told and the wrong people got hurt. Luckily, the friendly fire was mostly just hurt egos and bruises, no casualties. He didn't think König would survive if he had genuinely hurt anyone.

Said shifter was angrily crossing his arms, looking at him with frustration. "They weren't moving fast enough. They needed to get to exfil and I didn't think they could make it at the pace we were going. I was trying to prevent anyone from getting hurt."

"I understand that. But you have to ask for permission, König. People could've gotten hurt." Ghost understood the frustration. Nonshifters could be annoyingly slow at times. Personally, he even agreed it was the right call, but he couldn't tell him that.

"Unlike you, I don't go feral when I shift." König hissed. "I'm in control. I was fine." Low fucking blow. It took a lot for Ghost to shove the initially angry reaction down.

Ghost stared at him and sighed. "I believe you. But the point still stands. You should've asked."

König scowled at him fiercely and Ghost just shook his head. "I know you're used to being a mercenary with no ru-"

"Fuck you, Riley." König suddenly got closer, towering over him. Ghost's heart did something funny that he blamed on fear. Nothing else. His breath moved the cloth over his face.

"König. Stand down."

"And what are you doing to do?" He growled at him.

Ghost growled back and stepped closer, ignoring the height difference. He hooked his ankle around König's knees and sent him to the floor, kneeling in front of him. "Don't ever. Ever."

"Ever what? Growl at you? Disrespect your authority?"

Ghost yanked König's hood up and guilt immediately flooded him. König shied away from him, all the fury going out of him. He looked away, ashamed. There were scars across his face, but they weren't too bad. It was the thick scarring around his throat, like he had been wearing a spiked collar or had almost been decapitated.

Ghost dropped his hood. The silence followed like a shroud. It ached and groaned between them.

König let out a shuddering breath. "I... I do not want you to do that again."

"I wont."

"I promise not to shift without your permission again, sir." Sir. ah.

Ghost wanted to apologize. It was funny. He did worse things to other people and never felt this problem and yet, he wanted to apologize. To König.

"Good. Don't let it." That's what he said instead.

König didn't look at him. The silence stayed. Neither slept.

#cod #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare ii #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #König x ghost #König

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juneknight · 2 years

Note

breeding kink + jake?

I got a few ‘breeding kink + Jake’s so I hope this is okay. I feel very out of practice 😬 + a little outtake at the end because I can't just write 500 words, I must add CONTEXT.

About this: some very DUB-CON vibes (but they’re roleplaying). Jake/fem!reader, brat!reader, piv, restraints, some degradation, feminine monikers (ie chiquita), birth control mention.

“I have a surprise for you.” Jake’s voice rolls over you like smoke, his soft accent making your toes curl in anticipation. The restraints around your ankles pull against the bed frame at the movement.

You turn your head towards his direction even if all you can see is the blackness of the blindfold over your eyes.

“Yeah?” you ask. “Is it Marc? Or Steven maybe? Because they’d be fucking me right now.”

He snorts, the quiet exhale coming from a whole new direction. He’s so fucking quiet; you can’t ever keep track of him.

When his fingers touch the blindfold, you jerk in surprise as he pulls it free. The lights are dim but you still squint against them, heart pounding in anticipation.

All you see is Jake, naked, standing beside the bed. He isn’t allowed to smoke in the building—though that rule doesn’t always stop him: a cigarette is burning between his lips.

“Thanks, honey,” you mock. “But I don’t smoke.”

Reaching up, he removes the cigarette and taps the ash on your naked chest, laughing at your shriek before setting the smoke in the ashtray. Still scowling, you can’t help but eye his body appreciatively, especially his hard cock. Your toes curl again, rattling the restraints.

Fuck it. “I’ll settle for you fucking me.”

“Kind of you,” says Jake. Circling his finger in the air, he says: “turn over.”

You rattle the restraints pointedly. He rolls his eyes before reaching down and helping you onto your belly. It twists the cuffs at your hands and at your ankles so that you’re no longer starfished. If you were helpless before, you’re even more discombobulated now; less slack in the chains means no room to spread your legs, no way to widen your arms and support yourself.

Jake straddles the backs of your knees, grabs you by the hips, and pulls you back until his cock is a burning rod between your slick thighs.

“Condom,” you remind him breathlessly.

He hums. You don’t need to see him to imagine the wicked twist of his mouth. Leaning down, molding the front of his body to the back of your own, he kisses the nape of your neck and murmurs: “Surprise.”

One shift of his hips has his cock nestled at your opening, both of your bodies so familiar with this dance. Your body flushes hot and then cold when he sinks inside you in one smooth movement.

“No,” you gasp, jerking away. “Jake, you asshole. Put on a condom.”

He laughs and begins a smooth, hard pace. You throw your weight forward and backward in an attempt to pull away, but it only helps to spear you deeper on his cock. It feels different without the thin, synthetic material between you. It feels like your heart could pound free from your chest any moment, and you feel the heavy pulse all the way in your cunt.

“You—oh god, oh fuck—you aren’t funny,” you grit through your teeth. “Pull out.”

“I don’t think so. Why do you fight me so hard, chiquita? Your body was made for this. This cunt is hungry for me; she’s hungry for my seed. I can’t tell her no.”

“What,” you ask, turning your head so you aren’t panting into the pillows anymore. “You want a ton of little Jakes around here? Have you bookmarked an Etsy page of tiny, baby-sized caps, papi?”

He wraps a hand around your throat, squeezing tightly enough to cut off your words. His breath is hot in your ear. “I want to fill you up with me, I want your body to make room for me. I want every person who sees you to know you spread your legs for me like a little slut. Don’t pretend like you don’t want it; I feel how wet you are. You can’t help but cum, can you? Adelante.”

You groan, cunt clenching like a vice around his cock. He shows you no mercy, fucking you through the orgasm and reaching one hand around you to slip his fingers between your legs as best as he can. His touch against your clit nearly makes you shriek.

“Good girl,” he rasps. “Every time you cum, your pussy just pulls my seed deeper. Give me another.”

“Come here.”

Jake stops his restless pacing and stalks to where you have lifted yourself up to sit in the countertop. He stands close enough to be in the circle of your thighs and lets his head tip forward to rest against your chest.

“Want to touch it?” you ask. He doesn’t say anything. That’s the thing about Jake; his silences speak louder than he does. “It will make you feel better. Here.”

You guide his hand towards your bicep and help him trace his finger over the small rod in your arm, just tangible beneath the skin: your implantable birth control. He lets out a breath in relief.

“See? Still there,” you murmur. “It was just for fun.”

“Lo sé,” he says. “Still.”

You throw your voice, deepening it and mimicking his accent: “Why do you fight me so hard? Your body was made to knock me up, Jake!”

He digs his fingers into the ticklish skin of your side until you squeal and nearly slip off the countertop.

#jake lockley x reader #yall i am way too fucking soft aren't i

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synnamonroll666 · 7 months

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On Your Knees

Prompt 14: Authority Kink & Oral Pairing: Syzoth X Fem!Reader Description: You always found it hard to be attracted to men of the same rank as you or higher. But when you and your emissary share a moment of passion on one lonely night, you quickly realize why those men weren't up to your standards... Warnings: Authority kink, Oral (Female Receiving), Dom!Reader, Sub!Syzoth, Hair Pulling, Praise... Word Count: 1k Main MasterList: 🖤 Kinktober MasterList: 🖤 Synny's Angels: @lorebite, @mornandil, @queenkhepri, @bihansthot, and @mmeerraa.

⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒

Being queen of Outworld comes with plenty of responsibility. I don't have control over just one country like the royals of Earthrealm may have—I have control of an entire realm. Their safety means the world to me, so I work hard to ensure my realm and my people stay out of harm's way.

Unfortunately, this had given me no time to look for a decent suiter to stay by my side. My mother had graciously offered arranged marriages throughout the past, but it never felt right. None of the men had ever attracted me in any way. And it took a long time to realize that it was because once married, they would become king.

I suppose I have a need to rule—a need to be in a higher position than someone else at all times. And I didn't realize that until one lonely night, when I crossed paths with my emissary after dark.

"Hello, Syzoth!" I greeted the man kindly as I approached him outside of my castle. I had been going for a walk at the time, unable to settle down for the night and relax for a peaceful slumber.

The man was startled by my sudden appearance at first, but then responded to my words with a pleasant smile and a softened gaze.

"Hello, empress. Having trouble getting to sleep?" He asked as his smile then fell into a concerned frown.

"I am afraid so," I sighed heavily. It wasn't usual for royals to interact with their help on a more personal level, but I felt so lonely, and he was willing to listen. "Nights like these, I feel so alone—so lost in this big world; I'd do anything to change that."

"I suppose I understand." His words faded into a more somber chuckle, and I gave him a sympathetic look. I was more than aware of Syzoth's past, and the fact that he had struggled so much in life saddened me greatly.

"I know you do, Syzoth." I expressed while I gently placed my hand upon his shoulder, rubbing the bare skin in soothing circles with my thumb. "Perhaps we are more alike than we think."

"Well, we are both lonely in a world of people who do not understand us." Syzoth acknowledged. "But I understand you."

"Really?" I asked, and the man nodded. Clearing my throat, I continued, "Then... Maybe we should stick by each other? Or... Get to know each other better?"

"I think I would like that, empress."

Suddenly, a chill went down my spine as those words were spoken. I had been called "empress" many times by many people, but there was just something about the way that he said it that caused my eyes to instinctively flutter shut as I enjoyed the forbidden arousal circulating within my core.

"Are you ok, empress?" He questioned, and my eyes shot open to see him staring at me with concern. I simply smiled before stepping closer towards him to close the distance between us.

"Oh, I am now." I murmured in a sultry and hushed tone as I brought my hand up to gently run it through his surprisingly soft hair. I was even more astonished when he didn't move away—barely even flinched when my hand made contact with him in a more intimate way.

It was all downhill from there.

The next thing I knew, I had him in my room, ordering him onto his knees. It didn't take long for me to have my pants undone and around my ankles. And soon after, his lips were clashing against my mound.

I bit my lip hard to fight back a moan, terrified to make a sound that the guards outside my door could hear. It was difficult enough to sneak him through my window, but we managed to succeed without bringing any attention to us once. So fighting back every noise that dared escape me was crucial if we wanted to keep this little play date undercover.

But even then, I couldn't fight the inevitable forever. Because I knew that once my climax had arrived, there would be no keeping my mouth shut. Besides, keeping silent while he ate me out like I was his first meal in months was possibly one of the most difficult tasks I had ever tried to fulfill.

He turned his head slightly to get more access, and I couldn't refrain from letting a strained whimper from my lips. My fingers submerged within his dark hair and I held him firmly against me, muffling his moans against my mound as he savored my taste.

The vibrations of his voice worked wonders for me, and my eyes quickly lolled into the back of my head as I finally gave into the everlasting temptation of letting my voice free. I parted my lips to sing my songs of pleasure as the arousal within surged through my veins and straight to my core. It felt so good, and it made the desire stirring within grow even stronger.

"Good boy! Good little boy!" I keened as I buckled my hips into his face, to which he responded with a cute little growl.

I groaned at the way his tongue swirled around my clit, festering up butterflies to flutter around within my stomach. And soon after, I finally released into his mouth, crying out as my fingers clenched into fists and twisting his hair in my grasp. I rode out my orgasm on his tongue while he gazed up at me with awe from between my thighs; it was a magical moment.

Once I fell from my high, I glanced down at my lover with pride glimmering in my eyes. I released my firm grip on his hair and began running my hands through it slowly to soothe the sting my grasp must had caused him.

"You did so well for me, my perfect little sweetheart." I cooed sweetly, and he smiled once he pulled away from my mound. My chest puffed out as I was filled with even more pride once I saw the mess I had made of him—how my slick glistened on his lips and chin, while more dripped down his throat.

It was from then on that I only craved what was below me, and a small part of me still craves that same emissary—that helped me discover a large part of myself—to this day.

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#mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mortal kombat reptile #mk reptile #reptile #reptile x reader #mortal kombat syzoth #mk syzoth #syzoth #syzoth x reader #kinktober 2023 #SinnamonsSpicyFics

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friendlylocalwhumper · 3 months

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Their eyes are wild, round as saucers and glimmering with unshed tears. Strapped down to the floor by their wrists and ankles, a band of metal across their throat, and their clothes plastered wet to their shivering body, Quinn looks small.

A rough hand weighs heavy on their chest as if to keep them from floating away. A curtain of bleach-fried hair hangs around a mean face twisted in the shape of concern for once. “Calm the fuck down,” Major rumbles, pushing down on their sternum.

That pressure is the only thing keeping them sane. Quinn’s hyperventilating has them so dizzy that they can’t feel their fingers or toes. Their eyes rocket around the room but they find no escape, no guard to manipulate or trick. Just an empty room and a friend who can’t save them.

“Calm down,” Major snaps, and those teary brown eyes finally settle on him. His hand wanders up to grab them by the jaw. “It’s coming again. You know that?”

They nearly panic again at the reminder. The chains keeping them down rattle with the shudders of mortified anticipation.

“Hey, stay focused. On me. Say yes Major.”

It’s hard to keep hyperventilating against the hand pressing down on their ribcage. Exhausting. They gasp weakly. “Ye-. Yes, Major.”

“Cool.” He didn’t make them say it to get obedience out of them or anything, and uncharacteristically, he doesn’t smirk. “It’ll hurt. You need a stupid mission or something? Instructions, to think?”

A jerky nod. Their eyes flit to the clock on the wall that counts each second, ticking upward. When it hits the next minute, the shock will course through them again.

“Eyes on me, bitch,” Comes his reminder, and they look up at him again, a tear slipping free to crave its way down their cheek. “It’s just pain. Just lasts ten seconds. Make it to five without a sound. That’s the rule.”

“Five?” They bite out, teeth nearly chattering from adrenaline. “Why, why’s it matter if I… I can’t…” Their question dies out as the click of the clock warns that there’s only five seconds left.

“Because I said so. Just do it. No screaming, five seconds. You ready? Breathe.” Speaking in a machine-gun rapid fire now, Major grips onto their hair and forces them to look straight into his eyes, at nothing else. “Breathe.”

The restrained spy sucks in a tremulous breath, focus finding its way into their expression. And then they jolt, their body straining with all its might to fling Major away, to tear their hair out in his grip, to break their own body in the metal restraints. Major swings a leg over their stomach and straddles them, knees digging into their sides hard. And he shoves their head down so it won’t bounce off the floor like it did a minute ago.

Their mouth stretches wide, but Major growls, “Five seconds,” and watches them go red with the effort of keeping the scream in.

Ten whole seconds pass. The electricity stops, and they flop, panting.

“Didn’t scream at all,” Major comments as he disentangles his fingers from their hair. “Look at me.”

Jittery, drowning eyes find him again, lost with pain. They focus enough to see Major give a grim nod. “You did good,” He says, and their bottom lip wobbles. “Gonna happen again in a minute.”

“F-forty-five seconds,” They correct on a hoarse gasp.

“Whatever. Can you handle it?”

“Nnh nnh-… n-, I-I don’t…”

“Not do you wanna. Can you? Will you fucking survive it?”

They swallow a whimper and nod slightly. “Doesn’t f-feel like it. But… yes?”

“Yeah. You will. Don’t piss me off, now. You didn’t scream. This time don’t even open your mouth.”

Their eyes flash with doubt. “But I… I, I don’t…”

“You’re a tough bitch,” Major snaps, lowering to be all but nose-to-nose with them. “You won’t die. This is fucking easy. Say you’ve got this.”

There isn’t time. They have no time. They try to look at the clock again, but he leans to block it from their sight. “Say it,” He orders again.

Quinn takes a ragged breath and grunts with the effort of speaking on command. “I’ve got this?”

“Again.” He’s petting their cheek. They don’t even recognize it directly, they just lean into it and swallow a sob.

“I’ve got this.”

Stormy eyes harden. He doesn’t say anything else, just watches. The clock ticks, and the shock comes.

After ten seconds, Quinn sucks in air, and when it escapes them it comes out as a squeaky sob. They screamed, they think. Hard to be sure. Major moves and they flinch, eyes squeezed shut, breaths tiny and rapid.

“Okay,” Major says, and he sounds softer than before. “It’s whatever. ‘s actually fine if you gotta be noisy. Uh. Keep your eyes closed.”

They flinch again when he touches their face, but it doesn’t hurt. His hand brushes back and forth, stiff with scars and clumsy. The side of his thumb scratches over their nose, his cracked palm slides over their forehead. There is no pattern to it, no tender cupping of their cheek. No kiss to the forehead or finger under their chin to lift it. It’s like being a kitten curled up at the foot of a trucker who is reaching down to pet it with the same nonchalance of scraping mud off his boot.

As rough as it may be, it drags a broken sob out of them, and he doesn’t stop. Maybe he can see how badly it hurt that time. Maybe his arbitrary rule about keeping quiet was only for their benefit, and if it didn’t help then he won’t make them try again.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn keens, tipping their head cooperatively as he swipes his palm to rub the tears off each cheek for them.

“What for?” Comes the gruff answer.

“For. For… I don’t know. I just am.” Their voice is high and painful in their throat.

“…’s okay.” The click comes. Quinn nearly screams from pure terror and surprise at how quickly a minute passed. “You’re fine. Hey, breathe.”

They do. The pain comes again. His hands, his weight, all of it disappears.

Some time later, and it might be minutes or hours later, they hear him picking a fight. Growling, yelling. Quinn tips their head slowly to see that Major is pinned by a boot on his chest, screaming in rage about… Quinn. About how the shocks haven’t stopped, and it’s too much. How this is pointless and stupid and it won’t work because they never talk, they never break.

The click of the clock comes, but Quinn is too busy to turn their head and watch the seconds tick by in terror. They are watching Major with awe, teary eyes lit up with curiosity and pride. They must be doing a very good job holding up, if Major is so mad for them. They can handle the next shock. Major might not think so, if he’s arguing for them, but they finally believe they can. They must be very very strong to have lasted this long, to make Major actually care.

#whump #mine #drabble #captivity #angst #torture #quinn #major

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