#jigsaw smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anomaly-hivemind · 7 months

Text

Horror Convention || No. 9 Gloryhole w/ Horror Characters x Fem! Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

Word Count: 1995

Warnings: gloryhole, free use, exhibition, overstimulation, large cock, vaginal sex, gangbang if you squint, vagianl fingering, mask kink, stranger sex, cosplaying oral sex, blow jobs, hand job, spit as lube, multiple orgasms,

You were going to a horror convention, it was your first one and you couldn't be more excited to go. You were wearing a slutty freddy krueger outfit excluding the knife coves because they sold out at the spirit halloween. It was too late to buy any online. You were wearing a ripped up black and red cropped top, a jean mini skirt, some stressed thigh-highs and wedges.

When you finally got inside the convention center, there were a lot of things going on with an unsettling low amount of security personnel around. It was a bit overwhelming but you were going to push through it just fine. It was full of cosplaying horror characters, new and old, popular and niche. Even horror shorts films, tv shows and games.

“Can I take a picture with you? I really like the freddy outfit,” the muffled voice of a guy said behind an old respirator.

Oh yeah sure, I like your outfit too. It's from my bloody valentine right?” you lean into the guy so he could take the photo. The guy pulls you close to him for the picture, then he turns to face you.

“Yeah I've had this for a while now.” he laughs and crosses his arm.

“Well it's super cool, practically identical to the movie.” you look him up and down, he was a carbon copy of the original.

“A bunch of my buddies and staff are hosting an event on the west wing in an hour. You should totally go. “ The Harry warden cosplayer handed a pass for the event. ‘Glory Horror’ printed on the card.

“Yeah I will be there.” you nod and take the pass. You can't believe you got an event pass for free.

=========================================================================

An hour had passed, you had bought a scream poster, a friday the 13th shirt and the regret of your shoe choices. You push past the last part and make your way to the event. It was a ways away from everything else which was a bit suspicious but not enough for you to turn around. You show the bouncer guy your pass and ID, because you guess this is an 18 plus event.

You take a seat in the front, the seats were really comfortable. The lights were dim and the walls around the panel looked sound proof. This was super fancy for a panel. It makes you wonder what's going to happen, especially with how fast the room is getting filled with horror fans such as yourself. Most of them were wearing masks from what you can see in the dark space.

A bright red stage light hits the middle of the stage. The familiar guy from earlier that gave you your pass to this event walks to the center. Two other people dragged something onto the stage behind him, also dressed up, one looked like Amanda the pig from the jigsaw moves or the dead by daylight game. The other person was dressed like the monster from Jeepers creepers. There was a large box with a set of holes of different sizes, odd but you find the tv and cameras placed inside and outside the box.

“Welcome to this year's Glory Horror event. Many of you who know about this event already know what's up, but for our virgin Marys let me explain what’s up.” Harry warden cosplayer says through the microphone, his mask muffling his words.

“We’re going to pick a lucky Slasher Slut in the audience to go into the box.” The man snickered as the crowd went wild. Harry looked into the group of seated people, presumably to find someone to put in the box.

“Anything goes when you're behind the veil.” he points to the closed door.

You look around the audience that you were in and they all seemed excited to either be picked or see who was going to end up being picked. You just stare at everyone in confusion.

“You, are you willing to take a dive into carnal pleasures and try out the box?” He points to you from the crowd, when you point to yourself he nods. You stand up, nerves run down your spine as you walk onto the stage. You were surprised with how excited every person in the audience seemed to be that you got picked.

“What am I supposed to do?” you asked while looking at the box.

“It's pretty self explanatory, but you get in the box, the cameras are already set up, we gave you a screen to see the reactions you're giving people.” You nod at him and step into the box, it was large and you could stand up right without being seen by anyone, not counting the screen that was broadcasting you to the outside.

“You can strip down any point and if you want out of the box just push the button to unlock the door.

“You want me to do what now.” you asked from behind the wall, your voice muffled mostly.

“Strip, take off those slutty clothes and either open that pretty mouth or a hole. Prepared to get stuffed in whichever you choose and you can switch at whatever time doll.

You think for a moment, you could back out right now but a part of you wanted to see what happened. With a shaky breath you take off your freddy krueger fit and finally take off your dreadful shoes. You were just in your bra and underwear, taking a seat on your knees in the middle. The bigger hole was covered with a black sheet.

A knock on one of the sides catches your attention, you turn your head and your eyes widen. A veiny cock filled the hole, making it look smaller than it was and it makes your mouth water. You looked over at your screen to see what you're working with, a guy wearing a Michael Myers mask. Your lip quivers as you wrap your fingers around his length.

His balls twitch as you tighten the grip on this stranger’s cock. You use your saliva to wet the tip of his dick. You hear the faint groan of the Myers look alike, it was hot and a turn on for sure. You take his cock deeper in your mouth, almost gagging on it, using your hand to massage his balls and or stroke the rest of his meaty meat.

Another knock from the others size makes you pull your lips off Myer’s member. Someone else had slid their dick into the other hole, the screen splits so you can see the masked figure. It was Brahms, down to the black messy hair, even matches the drapes decorating the base of this man’s uncut dick.

You take your other hand and start to rub at his cute dick. Both of your hands were being filled with their cocks. You were soaking wet from how hot this was and if your hands went filled you would be touching yourself right now. You placed licks on both the dicks one after the other. Even the thought that there were a bunch of people on the other side of this box, watching and listening or maybe even waiting to take a turn with you.

It was hot, you felt hot and you wanted more of all of it. You squeeze the guys dicks as you jerk them both off with determination. Michael myers’ dick twitching was the only short warning you get before he shoots a hot load onto your chest. Your bra ruined with cum makes you pout for a moment before you take the thing off. You put your mouth onto the remaining man and take him down your throat. Brahms cums down your esophagus, his seed tasting weirdly sweet on your tastebuds.

You lick your lips after pulling away the dicks both gone from the holes, making you sigh. You slide off your panties and just as you thought you dripped in arousal. You rub yourself and let out short moans, a guy that was looking like Jason Voorhees pushed his phat cock through the hole. It looked heavy, craving your touch. You touch yourself with one hand while sucking off this fat dick. Even if you couldn’t fit all or even most of it into your mouth you sure as hell tried. You moan against the length of this Jason.

Your fingers thrust into yourself at a similar pace as you sucked and stroked his dick. You come to a stand and turn around, your wet cunt fluttering with horniness. Lining your slit with a guy who looked like a slasher’s dick. You let out a hearty moan as this fat cock stretches you out. You could feel his dick twitch and the man moan from the intrusion. He bottoms out in you, your walls clench around him and then he starts to move slowly in and out of you. You rub your clit as your hole gets pounded into. Another dick pops into the hole in front of you and wraps your hand around it with hesitation. Peaking at the screen in the box you see that it's a guy dressed up in a ghostface outfit.

“Ohshit ohshit ohfucking hell.” you were on the verge of coming and the mix of a Jason hitting all your spots with his girth was making it harder to focus on stroking the guy in front of you.

You try your best to get the other guy to completion but your own impending orgasm was a bit of a distraction to say the least. This Jason guy’s thrust was getting relentless and it was super hot to say the least. You hold on for as long as you could but when you feel the man’s load start to pool down your leg sends you down the edge. Before you could complain about how fast the guy pulled out another guy pushed into you, somehow even thicker and longer than the Jason guy.

You squeeze the hell out of the ghostface and your thumb pushes on his slit. It makes the guy come all over you and hand it a messy gush. The new masked covered hottie was fast enough to work you past that previous orgasm but Jason had given you but now you were getting a bit overstimulated. The faint tapping of the man's pyramid helmet on the box wall makes you giggle. Yet the humor in all of this was cut short from the brutal thrust this pyramid head was giving you.

You were already about to fall into another climax, you couldn't help but scream out a moan that you're sure everyone in the panel heard. Maybe even people outside nearby could hear your whorish moans and whales. This massive curved dick was rubbing your insides just right and your lower half couldn't take much more of it, not standing up like you are right now at least. You reach another chaotic mind altering, pussy spasming, leg trembling, back arching, toe curling climax that almost gives you whiplash an.

You feel the sticky seed fill your cunt and pull out with lackluster pace, almost like he didn’t want to leave your warmth so it takes a minute or so before he actually does . When the pyramid head finally pulls out, your body drops to the stage ground with a thud. You were panting like a dog, cum was dripping out of you and sticking to your thighs. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you try to catch your breath.

“This is the best Horror con ever.” you say breathlessly, as you look at another dick slipping into one of the holes. Checking your provided inside the box you see who it is, the host of this event… it’s Harry warden.

388 notes · View notes

becauseicantthinkwritings · 1 year

Text

An Altar For Our Sins

Part 6 // Masterlist

Demon!Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: Dark!Billy Russo, minor talks of non-consensual acts done in part 5, smut, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, face sitting, tail fucking, (putting that in bold so you see it), you hear me? He fucks her with his tail. It's consensual. Do not complain to me if you miss these warnings. She sort of gets a little high at the end from his cum. Mentions of blood and violence similar to other parts.

You'd let it bother for quite some while. Ever since he confessesed it to you, you went through many confusing emotions. Shock, worry, arousal, confusion, more arousal, concern, and then acceptance.

Now, you were onto another emotion entirely.

Fury.

As you watch him, deep in thought, pondering your next logical move after the events of today, you finally decide to say something about it.

"I think I'm mad at you."

He pauses, turning to look at you with widening eyes from his spot, leaning against your dining table. He almost looks innocent, with the way he blinks once, his eyebrows furrowing immediately after.

"Mistress?" He asked with a concerned voice and your glare doesn't waver.

"You cleaned me up while I was asleep, Billy... with your tongue."

You can see the genuine confusion and concern in his eyes.

"Yes?"

Damn, you were so aroused already. You take a few steps toward him, looking up at him angrily.

"You used your tongue on me, your rough, perfect tongue on me, while I was asleep- do you see the problem?"

His eyebrows draw together just a little, deep in thought.

"I-"

"You didn't think I'd want to be awake for that, Billy? Hmm? Didn't think I'd prefer to feel it? What if I did that to you? What if I licked that big cock while you were asleep and told you all about it when you woke up? How would you feel?"

Billy gulps.

"I'm sorry?" He mumbles, eyes trailing after you as you turn away from him with a scoff.

"I can make it up to you." He offers, watching your retreating form, his stomach clenched with the need to make things right.

You sigh, "Yeah, but I won't know if you're genuine or not- there's nothing quite like the first."

"Mistress." He says, desperately.

You turn back to face him. He takes the few steps it requires to stand before you. He looms over you so easily, your stomach flips at the size of him.

When he drops to his knees, you struggle with your arousal to stay composed, though it takes everything in you not to crumble.

He takes your hands in his, looking up at you with pleading eyes and you're so eternally turned on.

"Let me make this right," he begs, kissing your fingers, "Please, I can do better."

The power he gives you, goes to your head all over again. It's just like that night, the way you want to torment him burns inside you. You raise your hands to cup his face, your thumb brushing his lips.

"Poor little demon," you whisper, watching his eyelids flutter at the words, "Wants to make his mistress happy so badly."

His eyes flicker red for a moment.

You straighten your body.

"I suppose why not? It's not like you haven't already had your taste of me." You speculate, turning away from him to head to your bedroom.

EARLIER TODAY:

"You're being followed."

You tense up, fighting the urge to look around.

Was it the same people that had kidnapped you? Hadn't Billy confessed to killing them all? Maybe it was just some random person that had taken an interest in you.

You try to keep walking calmly, Billy's hand pressed to your back to steer you.

After a moment, you build up the courage to speak.

"What's going on?" You ask him, raising a hand to your mouth to pretend to yawn while you speak.

Billy looks around for a moment.

"Got a sense that something was off, noticed there's a car that has been following you for a couple of blocks, and three people on foot behind us that are suspicious- here- just stop to look at this flower for a second."

You do as he says, pausing to look at the bouquets lined up outside of the store.

"Oh, they are pretty." You say, distracted by the combination of sunflowers and roses.

"Yeah, they're definitely following, bad job at it too. Come on." Billy says, hand pressing into your back to guide you along.

You turn, and continue down the street.

"Where are we going?" You ask, curiously.

"There's a church nearby, you'll be safe there while I find out more. No one will think to look for you in a church if they think you're bound to me."

"Why?"

"Cause they think I can't enter. Turn here, I'll make you invisible until you go in, call for me if anything happens."

You swallow, hesitating to leave him. Your body takes on a purple aura, letting you know that you're invisible. You head up the steps to the small church, the large wooden door makes a solid sound as it closes behind you.

And then you're alone.

You swallow, studying the carving on the door. The church is so silent compared to the street outside and it emphasises how alone you are.

You turn, there's no one around you can see, but the atmosphere of the church distracts you. You study the beautiful stained glass mural at the front, light shines through, tossing a kaleidoscope of colours into the air.

The calm hush of the room calls to you, quietly asking for you to respect the space you're in.

You're entranced by the detailed design, everywhere you focus you find so much carefully thought out devotion expressed as art.

Carved marble columns, religious paintings lined with gold, you wonder how much time and effort had been put into the place.

And then you remember that Billy's existence implied there was one of higher power.

It doesn't necessarily change the way you see the world, it's not some big epiphany that comes with the realisation that God was real.

It did make you wonder about both sets of your parents.

You hadn't known your biological parents well, but you wondered where they were. Was there a heaven for them? Had they already faced judgment?

The thought makes you frown, a searing pain in your chest and the idea that you would face a similar judgement one day.

Then your adoptive parents come to mind. People who had taken you in and raised you as their own couldn't have possibly been bad enough to deserve hell right? They'd been atheist, did that automatically condemn them? Was that fair?

"I can tell you're spiralling." A voice says behind you.

You spin in fright, to find a man with a very kind face smiling at you. He raises his arms in a surrendering motion when he realises he's scared you.

He's dressed in a cassock and collar, with a shiny black rosary around his neck, a pair of red tinted round glasses sit on his nose, so darkly tinted that you wonder how he can see anything through them.

"Didn't mean to scare you," he says, "I just have a sixth sense for existential crises." He smiles.

He's very hot, you decide, with hair neatly combed on his head, and a short cropped beard, you find yourself returning his smile.

"Sorry, yeah, I just came to the realisation that God exists." You say, nodding your head in the direction of a wooden carving of Jesus on the cross.

He hums, "Well then, welcome to the club."

His words are so odd that you can't help the laughter that spills past your lips, and then you find him smiling along with you, proud that he'd lightened the mood.

"I'm Matt." He says, extending a hand to you.

"Matt? Not 'Father' or anything?" You ask curiously. You find yourself studying him closely, realising that there are some healing bruises on his cheek, and a split lip that looks to be a few days old.

"'Father' is so formal. Matt is better."

You nod, giving him your name and reaching out to shake his hand.

"Are you okay? You look like you lost a fight." You ask, concerned.

Matt smiles, waves off your concern.

"Ah, not being able to see sometimes means you fall down stairs. I'll be okay."

"Oh, I'm sorry." You say in sympathy.

"About the stairs or the blindness?" He asks with a humorous inflection in his voice.

"Are all priests this funny?" You ask with a wide smile, and he chuckles.

"I'm just trying to make you feel better, I know how confusing things can be for you right now."

You let out a sigh, nodding.

"I appreciate it. Life has been a big mess as of late... but not all bad." You turn to study the rows of flickering candles nearby.

"I imagine being soul bonded to a demon can't be all fun." He answers and it takes you a second to realise what he's said.

You turn slowly this time, mouth open comically. He keeps a kind smile on his face while you quietly lose your shit.

"What do you mean?" You say, playing dumb.

He bows his head, to hide his smile.

"Cards on the table, I can sense demonic auras. But I've never met a living person with a demonic aura, so I put two and two together and figure that you must have been bound to one... I assume against your will. Am I correct?"

"Y- yeah..."

He nods, deep in thought.

"I'm not judging. I'm in no place to do that. Though I hope you're okay, and I want you to know that if you ever need any help... I won't turn you away."

You blink at him. Was it really that easy not to judge someone?

"You're not... condemning me for it?" You murmur in a soft voice.

"Don't get me wrong, it's not something I support... but you don't seem like a bad person, just an unfortunate circumstance."

You swallow the lump forming in your throat, nodding, feeling the urge to make him understand.

"You're right. I didn't want this. They tried to sacrifice me... he saved me. He keeps me safe."

Matt nods in understanding.

"Please be careful though, manipulation is in their nature."

You blink, your head trying to come up with a myriad of excuses for Billy, a way to explain to this knowledgeable stranger that for all Billy was bad, he was working to be better.

As you open your mouth to explain, the church doors open.

It's hard to see more than his silhouette with the brightness of the sun behind him, but you know by the horns, that it's your demon at the church doors.

"I have to go." You say to Matt, turning back to him.

He inclines his head.

"Be careful." He says, before turning away, and disappearing into a room to the left of the altar.

You think about the strange conversation as you head toward Billy.

When you get close enough to make out his features, your mouth drops open in surprise.

He stands in the light of the church doors, drenched in blood.

"What the hell happened?!" You whisper aggressively to him.

All he does is give you a bloody grin.

Water pours over both of you.

You're still fully clothed, but you take your time helping him out of his bloody shirt.

Blood runs in rivulets from the crown of his head, down the sides of his face and over his torso.

He's deliciously attractive like this, and you try not to let it show as you help clean him.

Just moments ago, you were standing in a church corridor, Billy had wrapped his arms around you and teleported you right into your bathroom.

"Whose blood is this?" You ask, grabbing some shampoo to work into his hair.

He bends his large body, presenting the top of his head to be cleaned.

You take your time, working the shampoo in, lathering easily, and rinsing the blood from his hair. Out of precaution, you give him a second wash too, making sure to get every inch of his horns. He groans once or twice when you use your nails to scratch along his scalp, not paying it much mind.

"The group that summoned me is a lot bigger than I thought." He starts, as you work conditioner into his hair.

"Some of them had been watching from cameras that night, and they'd seen everything happen." Billy continues to explain.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself.

"They know where you live, but they wouldn't dare try something, not with me here."

"Should we move? Just in case?" You ask. Your little apartment definitely wasn't the safest place to be, and if it made you feel safer, you wouldn't mind getting a place with better security on Billy's influence.

He thinks about it, and after a minute, he nods in agreement.

You think about what they could have seen- you, sobbing and bound, wearing your coat and nightdress, the way you'd tried to crawl away, the way Billy had looked, naked and shrouded in smoke.

What would they do if they managed to catch you? The thoughts were terrifying.

"Hey." He says, bumping his horn into your hand to get your attention.

He raises his head, and you gulp as he towers over you.

You know what he sees, your worried expression, you wonder if he can feel the nervous wriggle of your stomach, the way you're trying your hardest not to freak out.

"I-" You try to tell him that you'll be okay but the words won't come. You look away, avoiding his eyes.

"Mistress." Billy murmurs softly.

You look back at him, his hands raise to cup your face.

"You're safe, I promise you that you're safe."

You swallow, nodding.

A warm moment as he bumps his nose against yours, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips.

NOW:

You're sitting on the bed patiently when he walks in. Though you were confident only moments before, you've gone shy now, with the realisation of what you're about to do.

Slowly, looking up at him you tug your shorts down your legs, letting him see the comfortable, white silk panties just below.

He moves closer, eyes still fixed on yours as your thumbs curl into the waistband of your underwear next.

He leans forward to stop you, his large hands covering yours, pulling them away.

"Why don't you lay back, and let me take care of everything?" Billy offers with a soft voice, and you nod, looking up at him.

You take a breath, scooching back on your bed, propping your head onto a stack of pillows that has you reclined at a 45 degree angle.

He gives you a warm look of approval, before reaching back to pull his shirt over his head.

His hair gets messy, and you fight the urge to right it, his horns poking through his hair.

You swallow, eyes trailing down his bare torso, carefully sculpted, beautifully carved, leading down to a small waist.

He's built a little like a swimmer, you think, defined in all the best places.

His knees touch the bed, you press your thighs together tightly as he crawls his way up to you. A predator in every sense of the word.

He hovers over you, large and imposing, with warm eyes and a gentle smile.

"Sure you want this?" He asks softly.

You struggle to open your mouth to speak, only able to nod eagerly.

"What are you going to do to me?" You whisper, watching his eyes dart down to your mouth.

He lets out a long sigh, eyes sparkling red for just a moment before he speaks.

"I'm gonna get you nice and naked." He breathes, "Gonna kiss your pretty skin until you're so relaxed under me that you can barely lift your head." He leans in to whisper the rest into your ear, his soft stubble scratching your skin gently, your core throbs in response to him.

"Then, I'll put my tongue on you. Lick that sweet cunt until you're crying, until you're not sure if you want to pull me closer or push me away."

He draws back so you can look into his eyes. There a place, set between your hip bones, that tingles deep inside of you.

"What about your fingers? Or your tail?" You ask.

"What about them?"

You swallow.

"A-are you going to use them on me?"

His smile grows into a grin.

"No." He murmurs, leaning forward to kiss the tip of your nose.

"If you want that, you're going to have to ask for it. I'm not going to fuck my tail into you without your consent." He says. The tail in question trails gently over your thigh.

Oh? Now he's concerned about your consent?

You nod in understanding, raising a hand to cup his cheek. He lets out a slow sigh, closing his eyes, savouring the feelings in his chest.

Your hand drifts, cupping the back of his neck and he opens his eyes to meet yours.

You pull him closer, you brace your other hand on the bed to push your face closer to his.

When your lips meet, it's surprisingly gentle, despite the fact that you can cut the desire in the room with a knife.

Your first kiss with Billy, your real first kiss and it's perfect, he doesn't treat it like a preamble to anything else, doesn't rush to pull at your clothes or feel your body while you're distracted. No, he cups your cheeks to keep you in place, no chance of you slipping away or breaking the kiss before he's ready.

He sighs against your mouth and you desperately take the opportunity, parting your lips to run your tongue over the seam of his.

He groans, his hands tighten on your face for just a second, before his mouth parts, eager to slip his tongue against yours.

You make a small sound of delight, his tongue just a little rougher than normal, tangling with yours in the best way, a sharing of your breaths that feels more intimate than anything else.

Your hand drifts higher, into his hair, all the way to the lovely dark horns sprouting from his head.

From the first graze of your fingertips against his horn, he lets out a long groan, the sound vibrates against your lips, desperate and brazen and begging you.

It's you that has to finally move, slipping your hand from his hair, grabbing one of his hands that cup your cheeks and guiding them down to the edge of your shirt.

His fingers curl around the fabric absentmindedly, moving only the way your hand guides.

You push his hand up one side, until the shirt can go as far as possible, and then you reach for the other side of your shirt.

He breaks the kiss finally when the shirt is tucked under your breasts, his other hand moves from your cheek to where your hand is, pulling your shirt up, and off your body.

The air kisses your cool skin and you can't help but shiver.

You're bare beneath it, and you watch Billy's eyes shine red, tucking the edge of his bottom lip into his mouth to bite down on it.

You reach up, smiling as you use your thumb to untuck his lip, leaning forward to bite down on it yourself.

The sound he makes is downright unhinged. You almost giggle and if you weren't nibbling on his bottom lip you definitely would.

He pulls back, letting his lip slip from between your teeth, pushing you until you fall back against the pillows with wide eyes.

He kisses your lips one last time, then the corner of your mouth, over your cheek, the edge of your jaw to the spot right below your ear.

"Let's not forget why we're here, Mistress," he says into your ear, his tongue slipping out to graze the shell of your ear. You gasp in surprise at the pleasurable feel, "My tongue."

How could you forget? It's not as if you could stop thinking about his tongue from the moment you licked over it a few nights ago.

He kisses down the column of your neck, before taking his time, licking all the way up.

God, that feels so nice, the ache between your legs can no longer be sated from being pressed together. You wriggle, and he leans back to give you the space you need to wrap your legs around his hips.

Your ankles lock behind his ass instinctively, and when he smiles, leaning back in to continue his exploration of your chest, you feel his stiff erection right against your centre.

You gasp, rocking your hips a little, chasing the feeling that grinding your clothed pussy against him gives you. You wriggle, whining when the pressure isn't exactly in the right spot, only to feel his tail, work its way between your thighs to press right against your clit.

You gasp, body arching at the pleasure that fills you. His tail making micro movements against the gusset of your panties, relieving the ache.

You relax, sighing as his tail sates you for the moment, his lips resuming their careful exploration, kissing over your chest, followed by the swipe of his tongue over your skin.

He gets to your breasts, kissing them softly, suckling the stiff bud of one breast between his lips before switching to the other.

He's so gentle, you feel a pull low in your stomach, begging him to just take you.

Fuck, if he was smaller, you'd be begging for him to try, but as of right now, you were still daunted by the size of the erection pressed against your thighs.

His hands push your breasts together and you groan, with his tail rubbing over your slit and his rough tongue dancing over your nipples and you feel just about ready to cum.

"Billlyyyy." You sing his name, he chuckles against the soft skin of your breast.

"Mistress," he murmurs, "I'd appreciate your patience while I explore your body. It's not every day that one gets to explore his willing charge."

You groan as his tongue snakes from your nipple to your neck.

"You're being mean." You gasp out, one hand drifting up into his hair.

"I know. Isn't it fun?"

You let out an exasperated breath.

He continues kissing over your skin eagerly.

You let the need take control of you, reaching up to grip one of his horns, you pull him up for an eager kiss, putting all your feverish need into it.

He makes a sound, one of surprise and disapproval of interrupting his exploration.

"Please, please, please." You murmur hotly against his mouth, licking over his lips and feeling his tail press more firmly down on your clit in response.

"Stop teasing me." You beg finally before pulling away.

"Or what?" Billy challenges and you finally understand how truly demonic he can be to you.

But maybe you had a little bit of torment inside you too.

"Or I'll get someone else to do it." You hit back.

When his eyes flash red this time, you know it's anger and not lust. His jaw clenches, he takes a sharp breath. He lets some of the anger out on his next exhale.

His eyes remain red, as his mouth turns up into a smile.

"You're adorable, mistress." He say, leaning in to speak right into your ear in a soft voice.

"But if you think I'd sit by and let another touch you, you're in for a surprise." He leans away, hands drifting down your body until they settle on the waistband of your underwear.

"Because you're mine. Just as much as I am yours."

With those final words, he tears your panties away from your skin.

You're not surprised by his actions, only complaining to him that they were your favourite pair, watching him smile up at you before leaning down to kiss your stomach.

His hands are firm on your skin, daring you to try and move. He grips your hips as his lips trail down your stomach and over your thighs. You let out a sharp cry when he grazes his teeth against your inner thigh, his tail moving to circle your other leg, holding you open for him.

You watch him, as his eyes land on your dripping centre. You watch the way his mouth parts, the way he runs his tongue against the edge of his teeth as he looks at you.

"Fuck." He says suddenly, and you can't help clenching at the low, guttural way the word leaves his lips.

You let out a shaky sigh.

"Please." You beg, voice trembling in desperation.

His eyes flit up to yours, eyes a dark red, barely noticeable, but yet still so distinct.

He doesn't speak, dropping his head to kiss your slit.

You let out a soft hum, enjoying the way his lips feel, and then making another sound of approval as you feel his tongue for the first time.

His first proper lick makes you gasp loudly. His tongue is just rough enough that you feel where every part of it rubs against you.

He's gentle as he licks you, and when he touches your clit, you cry out.

It almost feels like too much, and in the pleasure of it, you try to squeeze your legs closed, but you're unable to do so with his tail and his hand keeping your legs wide.

He presses his tongue flat on you, shifting his head slightly so that it feels good, but not nearly enough.

He groans, pulling back for a moment to speak.

"You taste so good, mistress, I could do this for hours."

His lips close around your clit for a brief moment, before he focuses the tip of his tongue right on that spot. You jerk in bliss, your thighs tremble.

"Billy. Billy. Please. Please." You beg.

With his tongue on your clit, you hear him let out a short laugh.

"Yes? Is there something you need?"

Fuck. How could he play with you at a time like this?

"You. Need you." You gasp.

"Me?"

Without thinking, you reach down and gently take one of his horns in your grip.

When he stops moving, you look down at him in concern that you make have crossed a line.

Instead, he looks at you with so much heat in his eyes that it floors you.

With half-lidded red eyes, he reaches for your other hand, wrapping it around his other horn.

"You better hold on, baby." He says, leaning down to continue licking you.

His slick tongue probes you, exploring your cunt in ways you've never felt before.

Your grip on his horns tighten when he starts licking into your entrance and over your clit at a steady pace. You let out a prolonged cry of his name, feeling your body tremble as the pleasure overtakes you.

He moans, the vibrations send tingles over your body, the wet sounds of his tongue on your cunt adding to the pleasure.

You hold his horns securely, back arching involuntarily as you feel your orgasm fast approaching.

Tears spill from the corner of your eyes. You pull on his horns to keep him close though you try to fight the sensations by attempting to close your legs. He doesn't let you, keeping you wide open for him instead.

His tongue speeds up, swiping over your clit repeatedly, he circles his tongue on you. You can't help the pitiful sob that leaves your mouth.

You cry his name, he doesn't stop.

You tremble violently when you cum. Your body spasms and shakes but you can't control any of it because you're too lost in the bliss to focus on anything else. Like molten lava spreading through your veins, sending scorching hot pleasure through your body, your clit throbbing as Billy continues to lick you softly through your orgasm.

You pant, struggling to catch your breath with the onslaught of bliss, absentmindedly realising that you've been gripping his horns harshly- you release them suddenly so that he can move away if he wants.

He doesn't budge, continuing to lap at your dripping pussy until you whine from the overstimulation.

His lips are shiny with your arousal, eyes like rubies as you watch his tongue swipe over his mouth.

You swallow, body tingling at the sight of him, aching for more.

"Can I-" Your voice cuts off, shocked at the absurdity of the question you were about to ask. More? You wanted more? How could you possibly ask him for more after he'd given you so much already?

"Mistress?" Billy asks curiously with a tilt of his head, his eyes reverting back to his natural dark hue.

"Nothing. It's nothing. Thank you Billy." You say, sitting up.

He reaches out to stop your movement, hands on your shoulders, thumbs circling your skin.

"Whatever it is, you can ask. I'm here to serve."

"That sounds awful." You say with an apologetic twist of your mouth.

He grins, leans down to place a soft kiss on your lips.

"Let me put it this way, if I didn't want to... I wouldn't."

You swallow, nodding.

"I want... more." You whisper, unable to meet his eyes.

"More?" He echoes.

You nod shyly.

He cups your face between his hands, angling you up to meet his eyes that have gone right back to their crimson colour.

"More of my tongue? Or something else?"

"T- tongue." You whisper so softly in hopes that he doesn't hear.

"Would you like to try sitting on my face?"

Your eyes widen.

"What?" You ask, perplexed, your body warming with the thought of sitting on his face, gripping his horns for leverage while he-

"I'll take that as a yes." He says suddenly, flipping you both until you're seated on his adonis belt. You gasp in surprise at the sudden movement, and then groan as your bare center rubs against him.

His hands smooth over your thighs, to grip your hips.

"Are you sure?" You ask him cautiously.

"I'm sure if you are." He agrees, and you don't hesitate any longer, shuffling your way up his body. When you lose your balance, he grips your hips tighter to hold you securely.

Billy is aching below you. He wants another taste badly, he's almost impatient to feel the weight of you on his face, the way you'll moan and buck your hips for him while he gets another taste of you.

He waits, he's calm through your hesitation, reassuring when you freeze.

"It's okay, I want this." He murmurs below you.

You take a slow breath in as you make contact with his face.

Billy groans below you.

"Oh shit-" You say, moving to raise off of him, "Did I hurt you-?"

He groans again, hands tightening on your hips to pull your weight back onto his face. You gasp when his lips seal around your clit, distracting you from your worries of crushing him.

"Oh fuck Billy." You cry.

His tongue is deliciously amazing, coarse and gentle, working into an eager pace. You can't help reaching down to grip his horns, a move that gets a moan of approval from the demon below you.

His tongue traces circles, careless patterns of pleasure that guides you into rocking against his face involuntarily, panting his name on each breath.

"So good Billy, please, I need you so bad." You praise, rolling your hips onto his rough tongue and feeling the dizzying pleasure take control of you. He's everything you've ever wanted, your deepest desire come to life and when he kisses your clit, you can't help jerking in surprise at being brought up to the edge so suddenly.

He doesn't stop, swirling his tongue, plunging it as deep into you as he can possibly get, hands gripping you tight so that you can't even think of pulling away.

When gripping his horns is not enough, you allow one hand to delve into his hair, tangling the strands between your fingers before tugging.

His hands squeeze down impossibility tighter and in the moment, you realise both your bodies are communicating the same thing; don't you dare pull away from me.

The thought alone is euphoric, that he's happy to be exactly where he is, and with a few more ruts of your clit against his tongue, your body tenses, muscles spasming as you cum hard for a second time.

You barely have any faculties left to help you stay upright. Your body relaxes without your permission, and you allow yourself a space for your body to hit the bed.

You try to extricate yourself from him, but he only growls, grabbing your legs to spread them apart so that he can continue licking your pussy.

You let out a harsh cry, his tongue avoids your clit as best as possible, and you realise as an afterthought, that this is him cleaning you up just the way he did a few nights ago.

When he's done, he raises his head to find you looking at him with glassy eyes.

"Need you." You gasp out, and you keep your eyes on him as he crawls into the space beside you.

You bury your face into his warm skin, your body still sending wave after wave of pleasure down your spine.

His hand is soothing on your cheek, thumbing at the glistening tears there.

If you had any reservations about asking for what you wanted, it's completely gone from you now.

"Want your tail. You- you said you could- you said I just had to ask-"

"Shhhhh, easy, take a deep breath."

"No," you fight, "I need you now. I feel so empty Billy. I've never felt this empty before."

He lets out a slow breath.

"Okay, okay, I'll give you what you need."

You hum in appreciation, hooking one leg over his hip, spreading the other eagerly. Open thighs for your demon to fit his tail into you.

"I should open you up a little on my fingers." Billy suggests, and your impatience gets the better of you, but when you open your mouth to protest, you catch sight of his tail and pause. The widest part of his tail is about the width of three of your fingers, and you know it would hurt a little to take that much into you.

"Okay." You whisper, meeting his eyes, a little daunted by the acts you were about to undergo, yet too desperate to stop now.

His large hand covers your pussy, his middle finger makes contact with your entrance. Your breath freezes in your throat at the delicious sensation of him rubbing your entrance.

"If anything hurts, you stop me. Okay?"

You blink, eagerly nodding your head.

He gets his finger nice and wet with the abundance of your arousal before he sinks his first knuckle into you. You gasp in a deep breath, tilting your hips up in a silent beg for more.

Billy is meticulous, careful, as he works his middle finger right into you, you barely feel any pain at all.

When he reaches all the way in, and you can feel him so impossibly deep inside of you, he pauses.

"How does that feel?" He asks, eyes trained on you. You turn to look at him, desperate eyes on his warm ones.

"Feels s'good."

"Yeah? What about when I move like this?" He asks, bringing his lone finger out and then pushing it slowly back into you.

You cry out, head falling back, eyes squeezed shut. He doesn't stop his slow movements, and you find yourself rocking your hips in time to his movements.

"It's not enough." You whine, "I need more."

"Okay, this may pinch a little bit, take a deep breath for me."

You do as he says, and in the exhale, two of his fingers probe your entrance.

He's right, two of his fingers pushing into you does pinch, and when you gasp in pain, his hand freezes.

"I'll stop." He says, beginning to withdraw his fingers from you.

"No please," you beg, "I need it, please Billy, I want to."

You hear his gulp, and feel as his two fingers attempt to push into you once more.

This time, he takes it even slower, allowing his fingers time to get wet with your arousal, before fucking them into you. You whimper, desperate and eager for the feel of his fingers. It makes you feel so full, in a way you've never felt before.

"I'm gonna open you up on my fingers." He whispers hotly in your ear, his voice sending shivers of bliss down your naked body.

"I'm going to stretch my mistress' tight cunt, until I can fit my tail in. Can you guess what I'll do next?"

You gasp, turning to look into his vermillion eyes, unable to say a word as his fingers do just as he says.

"That's right. I'm going to fuck you with my tail. Make you cum on it, maybe I'll make you clean your own cum off of my tail, kiss you so that I get the taste."

You squeeze your eyes shut.

"Maybe I'll flip you on your stomach and fuck my tail into you from behind. Maybe I can keep you stuffed full with it. Give you an idea of what my cock could be like."

Your breath hitches, you writhe beside him.

"I think you're ready for it." He whispers in your ear, and you think you are too.

He withdraws his fingers, and then something too familiar is working its way in.

Incoherent, your mouth opens wide to take in more air. His tail feels different than his fingers, thinner at the top, and only a little wider at the base. You clench around him eagerly, hearing him groan as he pumps his tail into you.

"I can't tell you how much I think about this. How often I've touched myself to the thought of being inside you." Tears spill onto your cheeks, you realise that you can feel the rough bumps on his tail rubbing against your inner walls, amping up your pleasure.

He starts slowly, but when he feels how eager you are, his pace increases.

You sob more, unable to form a single thought in your head past the pleasure if you tried.

You reach for him, grabbing onto the first thing you can reach- his wrist- and squeezing tight.

Billy leans closer, so that his lips brush your ear.

"I know, I know it feels so good. I can feel your pleasure- did you know? I can feel how mindless you are. It's a good thing you don't need to think. All you need to do is cum."

Your nails claw into his skin, he chuckles, his thrusts growing harsher.

He readjust his angle slightly, and a sound of pure bliss leaves your mouth.

"You feel so good, and you taste even better and you're all mine, mistress."

Your breath stutters in your throat, his tail slows it's pace, prolonging your pleasure, sliping in and out of you so calmly now, still touching every desperate part of you.

He reaches up, his fingers sinking into the pliant skin of your jaw, and tilting your head so that you can look into his eyes.

More tears leak down your face, as his tail continues to take its time fucking into you so sweetly. The pleasure burns inside you, scorching hot and sears ecstasy into your mind until you can think of nothing else but him.

He looks down at you, drinking in your expressions, feeling your pleasure in the back of his head like a light going off- some big realisation happening inside of him as he gives you what you crave.

"In truth," Billy utters, "I want to own you."

He feels you clench around his tail.

Your breath stutters.

"I've found myself tied to you for a very long time. I'm at your mercy. At your service. Anything you want, I provide- and the concept of it makes me so fucking angry."

You blink, trying to focus.

"Bill-" You start to say but his palm swiftly covers your mouth, and you huff through your nose, raising a hand to cup his, not attempting to pull him away just yet.

"Not angry at you, angry at the entire system that put me here in the first place." He looks away, and after a few moments he confesses, "You're the one thing that's good about this."

He looks at you again, and then leans in, moving his hand out of the way so that he can press his lips to yours. His tail stills inside of you, pressing in deeply, you try to focus- to return his kiss- but when his tail shifts upward, you let out a sharp cry against his lips as he touches an incredibly sensitive spot inside of you.

Your body shakes, your eyes widen in shock.

"There it is." He says, as if he was looking for this spot inside of you all along.

Too desperate for the pleasure, you open your mouth to speak.

"If it's ownership you want, then it's yours." You say, watching his eyes flash bright red for a second.

"Own me."

A low sound leaves his chest, and then his mouth is on yours again, and his tail begins to fuck you earnestly.

You cry out against his lips, and he takes the opportunity to delve his rough tongue into your mouth. Your breath catches, feeling absolutely consumed by him, fucked by his tail, invaded with his tongue until there's nothing left that you wouldn't give.

"Prove to me that I own you," he murmurs against your lips, "and cum for me."

You nod eagerly, as his tail moves faster. He dips his head to lick against your neck, one hand trailing down to press one of your peaked nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

You shudder. Your body no longer feels like yours- only a toy for him to manipulate whichever way he likes.

A loud sound breaks past your throat, you tilt your neck to give him more place to work. His lips continue to suck and torment at your shoulder, until you feel the pleasure of his touch grow to be too much for your body to contain.

You entire body pulls taut, one hand grips the sheets, the other holds his wrist, your breath lingers in your chest as you stop breathing.

Your back arches off the bed when you come.

It's like some large explosion going off in your head, your vision goes white, pleasure sparks down your spine, and your very thinking unspools as your orgasm moves through you.

You're gone for a moment, floating somewhere very far away, unable to get back to your body no matter how hard you try.

"Shhh, relax, mistress, I've got you." You hear him say, and you allow yourself to float peacefully, with the knowledge that you're cared for above all else.

When you come to, you're pressed tightly against him. You take a deep breath, your vision swims for a moment before it focuses. His tail, now clean, is wrapped around your thigh, you cunt tingles and aches, throbs in bliss at being used so well.

"How long was I out?" You ask him.

"Couple of minutes, that's normal." He says in an attempt to reassure you.

"How did you- I've never... come that hard before."

Billy hums in acknowledgement.

"You should expect a lot more of that." He says, and you feel your body pulse with excitement.

Your limbs feel heavy, your breathing slows, calmed by his closeness.

"I didn't make you cum." You say after a few moments, feeling his hot erection through his clothes, pressing against your thighs.

"That's alright, it'll go away."

You frown.

"That's not what I want." You challenge.

"No?" He asks.

You fight the exhaustion, sitting up, and turning to look at him.

"No." You say, leaning down to kiss him.

He hums against your mouth, and then stiffens in surprise when your hand drifts downward to cup his straining erection.

"Want you in my mouth." You say decisively, reaching for the button of his pants to undo it.

You get his pants off with only a little difficulty, and then tug his boxers off too. He doesn't do much more than shift his hips when necessary, to get them off.

And then it's just you and his cock.

Big... too big.

He'd never fit all the way in your mouth, you may have to use your hands like you've seen in porn, but you're determined, eager to feel him come undone below you.

You pause, looking up at him. He looks flushed, propped up on his elbows to get a better look at you, eyes and cheeks tinted red until you're sure he's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. Even his chest is coloured with an undertone of pink, flushed and eager for you.

Precum dribbles from the head of his cock, large and mouthwatering and before you lose your nerve, you lean forward.

He hisses when your tongue makes contact with the tip of his cock. Salty precum coats your tongue, your eyes meet his as you savour his taste.

His lips are parted, the sheets clenched in his fists on either side of his body. You smile at his reaction, leaning down to kiss his cock.

He groans, low and primal and you get the idea that he's barely contained, ready to rip at the seams at any given moment.

You think about all the amazing things he's done for you, and you don't hesitate to suck the smooth tip of his cock into your mouth.

He fills your mouth easily, you press lower until you're at your comfort limit. You can hear his shallow breathing above you.

With a new thought in mind, you raise your head.

He looks at you, and you look at him, and before he can utter a word of question, you reach for his hand, gently running your fingertips over his clenched fists before pulling at his wrist.

He releases the sheets and allows you to pull his hand up until his hand is cupping the back of your head.

"Can you help me?" You ask softly, and his eyelids fluttering while he blinks is the only indication that he's heard you.

You give him a gentle smile, sinking lower once more.

It's slow and deliciously sinful, he keeps a steady hand on the back of your head while you suck his cock, enjoying the delightful sounds he makes.

When you feel confident enough, you wrap your free hand around his cock and begin stroking him to the slow pace of your mouth.

"Fuck, you're so good at this- I don't deserve it." You hear him say, which makes you raise your head to speak.

"Of course you deserve it, Billy, you're such a good demon for me."

He closes his eyes with a groan, and you let out a breathy laugh, dropping your head once more.

You keep going slowly enough, until your jaw starts to ache, something you hadn't realised would happen.

You do your very best to ignore the ache, trying to focus only on the taste of his veined cock and smooth tip.

You begin to move faster, keeping the pace of your hand in time so that you can pleasure as much of his shaft as possible.

"You're amazing mistress, fuck."

Billy's head tips back, gasping for air as pleasure assails his senses. Your mouth on his cock had been everything he'd ever dreamed of and hoped for. The inside of your mouth was soft and hot and your tongue- holy fuck your tongue was going to kill him.

Worst of all was when you took him a little too deep and you gagged a little around the head of his cock. He could feel your throat contract around him, it had made him feral to own you. He'd resisted thoughts of gripping your head and fucking your mouth, saving the filthy thought for later, knowing that he'd get everything he wanted in time.

Billy's eyes roll back in his head, he's so close, all because of you, and your sweet smiles and your perfect mouth and he couldn't get enough of you if he tried.

"Close." Is all he can find the strength to say, and then he feels your efforts double down.

He groans when he feels you speed up, and you're desperate and eager to feel him explode in your mouth that you hyperfocus only on his cock.

You feel his abdomen tighten, and the muscles on his thighs contract, his hand holds fast to the back of your head.

There's a low groan, and you take his cock all the way into your mouth as he comes.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to make yourself as comfortable as possible as waves of his cum flood your mouth.

You swallow as much of it as you can, but inevitably, some slips out of your mouth.

You pull up with a gasp when his cock stops pulsing, looking up at him and finding his head tilted back, his chest heaving.

You can feel something warm settle in your head, a fog that relaxes you, soothes your soul, and you can't help the need to clean all of his cum.

You take your time, licking his shaft, seeing him raise his head to look at you in surprise as you begin cleaning him up. His cock hasn't softened at all, and you moan in delight, swirling your tongue over his tip to catch the last bits of his cum.

"I think I love the way you taste." You murmur, looking up at him with hooded eyes. He takes your chin into his palm, tilting your head up to look into his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asks softly, his eyebrows drawing together in concern.

"Yes. Your cock is massive and delicious." You try to explain.

He sighs, tilting your head from side to side, examining something you can't see.

"Your pupils are blown wide." He comments, concern lacing his voice.

"Can I kiss you? Are you one of those guys that doesn't like to be kissed after a girl sucks you off?" You ask as if he hasn't spoken.

The corner of his mouth twitches, amused.

"You can kiss me anytime you please, mistress."

"Yay!" You cheer, leaning up to press your lips to his.

You moan into his mouth, kissing him softly, savouring the way your naked body feels sliding against his.

"I'm not afraid of you." You whisper aloud in realisation, that this is probably the most intimate you've ever been with another person and having him here didn't scare you. You knew he wouldn't try anything, or force you in any way, that you could just be you, without needing to guard yourself from him.

His hands trace your spine, squeezing gently at your body when the exhaustion finally hits.

You huff out a sigh, tucking your head into the crook of his neck, rubbing your cheek against his stubble every now and then.

You head is still hazey, and you're not too sure why, but you don't focus on it at all.

"Your cum tastes amazing," you mumble sleepily to Billy, who has tilted back on the bed to allow you to rest on his chest while you drift off.

"So you've said." He hums.

"I need to taste you again when I wake up." You sigh against his chest, feeling his hand pause for a moment while rubbing your back, only resuming his soft motions when you make a sound of complaint.

You lick your lips, feeling his tail wiggle it's way to wrap around your thigh, smiling softly as sleep overtakes you.

Billy had never had a mistress before, definitely not one he was attracted to. Yet he had the sneaking suspicion that his cum had drugged you in some way. No one had mentioned that being possible, and he racked his brain to remember the last time he'd been sucked off.

Nothing came to mind.

Had the last time he'd been treated this way really been when he was alive?

He swallows, figuring that eternal damnation definitely didn't intend to come with blowjobs this good.

You shift in your sleep, muttering about peaches, your breasts are fitted snugly against him, and he sighs in bliss. He can feel the soreness in your jaw through his bond, and he rubs your jaw softly, his fingertips glowing purple as he soothes your ache. The ache you had from sucking his cock.

He pauses, thinking for a second that he should have left your jaw sore- a reminder to you that you had him in your mouth, but then guilt fills him- he didn't want you in any pain.

Billy blinks, wondering about his feelings, and not surprised at the conclusions he comes to about himself.

#an altar for our sins #demon!billyrusso #demon!billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo #billy russo x female reader #monster!billyrusso #monster!billy #monster!billy russo #the punisher fanfic #marvel the punisher #marvels jigsaw #the punisher #billy russo smut #dark!billy russo #my writings

557 notes · View notes

lokifae42 · 2 years

Text

YES, NO, MAYBE

Chapter 2/? Chapter 1 Warnings: Nothing yet Rating: 18+

Tagging: @becauseicantthink (thanks for letting me tag you! I love your writing and you are a big inspiration!)

Read on AO3!

The date had absolutely wiped Maddie out, thankfully she was spared a hangover as she only had two drinks. But the tension, the banter, the flirting, all of it made her exhausted by the time she got into bed last night. Even this morning, the bags under her eyes seemed worse as she tried to cover it up with foundation. It took a good hour before she was out the door and off to get a cup of coffee. And still she thought she looked like shit.

Entering the ANVIL lobby, it seemed its usual busy, people milling about and sitting, no doubt for Billy. She walked up the stairs and into her cubicle, placing her coffee down and getting straight to work.

But before she could get any ‘real’ work done a man came and tapped her on her shoulder,

“What are you doing here? You’ve been transferred” he said in a gruff voice,

Madison blinked, “Oh… I wasn’t notified”

“Huh, thought you knew,” the man leaned down and whispered, “it’s all the way up from the big boss himself,” he handed her a letter, “you’re to work for him personally,”

The words on the page did not register in her mind, “Uhhhh, thank you for telling me” taking her bag she smiled at the man who waited for her to leave. She entered the elevator and took it all the way up to Billy’s office. The doors opened with a ding and revealed a luxurious lobby space. A large black desk that was topped with white marble stood in front of her, large black leather seats were to her left. A window as tall as the wall gave the room a beautiful room and natural cool lighting.

“Miss Woodworth, Mr. Russo is just in his office,” the lady at the desk motioned to the large dark brown doors to the right.

“Thank you,” Madison said as she went over to the doors, but before she could enter a man came in front of her,

“I’m going to need to check your bag, ma’am,” the bodyguard said and looked at the bag on Madison’s shoulder.

Her anxiety spiked as she had her S.H.I.E.L.D USB stick within but she knew it was located in a secret pocket. She was about to hand it over when Billy opened the doors to his office.

“That’s not necessary, John,” he said, “Madison here is my new personal assistant, she can be trusted,” he looked at her with a grin “you can be trusted, right?”

“Of course! Or I doubt you would have given me the job,” she chuckles and kept her bag on her shoulder.

Billy led her into his spacious office which seemed simple and well kept. Another large window identical to the one in the lobby was behind his enormous desk. The rest of the office was minimalist, a small black couch sat up against the wall and two chairs sat in front of his glass desk.

“I only let people I trust into my inner circle,” he went back out to the hallway and opened up another relatively large door that opened up to a small but still luxurious office, “I hope the transfer wasn’t too much of a shock”

Madison chuckled “A better warning might have been nice but I’m assuming this is a… last minute decision,” she walked into the mini office and put her bag down, thinking of the date from the previous night, “anything to do with the date or just a ‘corporate’ decision?”

The comment made Billy smirk with a little chuckle, his almost black eyes flicking to the floor then back to her, “perhaps a bit of both, your talents were wasted in your last position.”

Madison eyed his movements to see what his true motives were, there was a smirk on her face in response, “I appreciate the upgrade, much better than the beige cubicle I was at,”

The whole situation almost made Maddie laugh, the fact that after a date she became a ‘personal assistant’ seemed like a plot of a shitty porn video.

Billy stood at the foot of the doorway, “Miss Adelaide at the front desk will be your other ‘supervisor’ only to avoid the appearance of impropriety but your office is right outside mine. Miss Adelaide is there should you need anything.” He took a badge out of his pocket and handed it to her, “the projects you will work on will be at my discretion and here is your new badge. It should get you anywhere in the building,”

That last statement shocked Madison but years of S.H.I.E.L.D training kept her face completely neutral. She passed her old badge to him and took the new one and there it was, ‘unlimited access’ typed on the bottom. Maddie looked back up to him with a brow furrowed, “so… what exactly is my job? Sounds like I’m a glorified secretary,”

Billy laughed again but shook his head, “Not at all, you’ll be a project manager, dealing with the creation and refinement of training sessions and contract security. You’ll be the special eye that makes sure it looks final and is secure. You’re my girl, FRIDAY. The only calls you’ll be getting will be related to the projects you’ll be working on,”

“I can do that,” Madison nodded and pushed a strand of hair behind her ears as she sat down at her new desk.

“Perfect. Take today to move your stuff and get settled in. Adelaide will give you a tour later on and tomorrow we can dive right in,” Billy gave a curt nod and a smile to Maddie before walking out and back into his own office.

Billy closed the door and stood in front of the large window, looking out into the vast New York skyline. He took out his phone and while dialing and putting the phone to his ears he looked at the tiny specks down below walk by.

“She’s settling in, now to see what happens next. I want weekly reports and immediate contact if there’s anything out of the ordinary,” Billy smirked at the city skyline, “New York, New York…”

Maddie spent the rest of the morning setting up her new personal office. It was quite the step up from the tiny cubicle with a gorgeous pine desk and an expensive looking computer. But before she did anything she gave the office a… pat down of sorts. Scanning over surfaces and drawers, shelves and walls to spot any devices. None were seen, to Maddie’s surprise and there were none on her computer hardware as she checked. No cameras, no listening devices, nothing. It made Madison uneasy, the quick promotion, the speed in which she was asked out by him. Billy Russo had to know something but was sure to make no show of it. Madison decided to play along, not wanting to put any sort of spyware in his devices or office or apartment for the time being.

Around lunch time there was a knock on her door and Madison looked up to see Billy there at the door,

“Lunch?” he said with a cool smile as he leaned on the door.

“I’d love to, I’m guessing you have another fancy place to go?” Maddie grabs her purse and gets up.

Billy gets off the doorway and brings around her waist, not quite touching but the presence of his hand had set Maddie’s skin aflame. “Standing place only, but they have the best tacos in the city.” he said as they walked through the building and down the busy New York street.

“Tacos!! I love them! But I’m a messy taco eater,” Maddie chuckled and still kept close to Billy.

He smirked and looked down to her, “If you make a mess, I’ll just have to clean you up,” he winked as they walked past a large line of people. He opened the door at the start of the line and went right in.

Maddie gawked as she saw him just go right in, as if he really was a VIP of somesort. Between the people staring at her and the comment Billy made Madison’s cheeks blush hot.

“Mr. Russo!” A voice called from across the counter and there Maddie found a middle-aged tanned man with his arms upraised. “And you brought a friend!”

Madison smiled and Billy introduced the to the owner of the restaurant,

“Pleasure to meet you, Madison. It’s not often Mr. Russo brings friends, and certainly not pretty girls. Tell me, what can I get for both of you?”

Both Billy and Maddie order some tacos and a burrito to go and in the meantime they wait at the back of the store while others come and order too.

Maddie looked up to Billy, “What did you do for him? To allow you to skip 20 other people in line, I mean,”

Billy gave his usual cocky smile and looked down to her as they waited, “I gave him the money to start the place. We were friends before and once ANVIL became successful I wanted to help him,”

Maddie nodded and the owner of the store brought over their order, he also had a bag in one of his hands, “Here you go, and your bodyguard…” he looked down at the order name, “John ordered this, mind giving it to him?”

“Of course not,” Billy said as he took both the food and the bag. But before they left he handed the owner a couple of hundred dollar bills, “take the wife out tonight, on me,”

“You are too kind, Mr. Russo!”

Billy gave another charming smile and escorted Maddie out of the small establishment. They walked down the busy New York streets back to the head office and the entire time Maddie’s mind was spinning. What the hell had Billy done with that owner and what the hell was in the bag he was carrying? The whole situation had Maddie’s training tell her this was an illegal operation but there was no proof. Yet.

They made it back to the building and into Billy’s office,

“We can eat on the couch,” Billy said as he moved the coffee table closer, he sat down and placed the bag of food.

Maddie took a seat beside him on the couch and opened up her coke as Billy passed her the tacos. She took a bite and a bunch of crumbs and pieces fell back into the tray,

“You weren’t kidding about being messy,” Billy chuckled and passed her a couple of napkins, “do you like your office?”

There was another crunch and some more mess as Maddie took the napkin. She gave a nod.

This time Billy leaned over and wiped her chin and Madison stopped. Her eyes met his dark brown —almost black— irises and it took her breath away. His face was stunning from being this close. No amount of S.H.I.E.L.D training could stop her cheeks from going a shade of red.

“There we go,” Billy said softly “perfect”

Still Madison’s cheeks burned in a blush, “Tacos are meant to be messy, definitely not a first date kind of food” she chuckled and took a sip from her coke. “Although this is the best taco I’ve ever had,”

Billy laughed in return, “right? I keep asking for his secret but he never tells me”

There was a pause in the conversation and it allowed Maddie to think. Her mission was to get information out of Billy by going undercover. And if she blew cover it was by any means necessary. Her goal was eventually to seduce him somehow and as the days went on it seemed easier and easier. Until she again made a mess and again Billy cleaned her mouth and chin. Madison willed herself to stay focused on the task; on the mission to find Rawlins but it was becoming ever more difficult with each passing glance from Billy’s gorgeous face.

“So, tell me more about your family,” Billy broke the silence.

“Hmm.. there’s not much to tell. My parents did live in New York once but moved around when they wanted to have kids. Eventually they liked Washington state better than New York for raising a kid”

“You make it sound like New York is filled with drugs, sex, and crime,” Billy laughed as he ate,

Maddie laughed in response, “well only in the bad parts,” she took another pause before continuing, “other than that.. I’m an only child and my mother was a mail carrier and my dad worked for a lumber yard as an accountant. Just an average American family”

Billy sipped his coke and leaned back in his chair, watching her, “They can’t be that average, they had you” he gave another charming smile, “and you’re anything but ordinary”

His comment elicited a soft chuckle from Maddie, “You flatter me, really I’m nothing too special,”

“No,” Billy said almost immediately, “you are extraordinary and you know it,” his stare was intense and it sent shivers down Madison’s skin. He was both beautiful and threatening.

He sat back in his chair and smirked, his dark eyes still gazed at her. There was something as he looked at her, something… off. As he gazed at her he could almost confirm it. The sudden cute employee, way too over qualified for the job, the whole thing reeked of a plant. Of a covert operation. But he kept quiet, studied her, and left her to make the first move.

“Thanks again for lunch,” Madison said

“My pleasure,” Billy responded, “Perhaps we make these lunch dates a weekly affair? I’d love to see more of you,”

“As if you aren’t seeing me daily anyway. But who can say no to a free lunch?” She smiled and walked towards the office door.

“You’d be surprised who would turn down a free lunch,” Billy stood and put the garbage in the bin, he came over and opened the door for her, “have a good day, Madison,”

“You as well,” she smiled and left for her own office. She heard the doors to Billy’s office close.

After an hour Billy called John from his office, “Was it in there?” A few moments later his jaw clenched and he took a deep breath, “Go remind him of what happens when I don’t get what I want. Thanks John.” Billy’s voice was lethal as his eyes turned black. He sat back down in his office chair and after a few moments to breathe and calm down he opened up the security cameras to Madison’s office. He smiled.

#Billy Russo #Billy Russo fanfiction #Billy Russo smut #Jigsaw #Jigsaw fanfiction #Marvel fanfiction #Punisher fanfiction #Ben Barnes #ben barnes fanfiction #bin bons #plot: bin bons #Marvel AU #Billy Russo AU #Punisher AU

25 notes · View notes

smutsmith · 7 months

Text

#smut #drabble #fiction #halloween #horror #romance #smutshots #smutsmith #31 days of tricks and treats #spicy #monster fucker #jigsaw #saw

0 notes

toshidou · 1 year

Text

lighthouse for a lost comrade . . .

Pairing // Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word count // 4.9k

Tags // 18+ ONLY, AFAB reader, soft simon riley, written from simon's perspective, mild descriptions of injury and blood, hurt and comfort, aka simon finally allows himself to be looked after <3, he is a big boy with a heart that yearns to be loved you cannot convince me otherwise, the softest of smut, praise, you accidentally give ghost a 'sir' kink, reader calls ghost sir a couple of times because they're hot like that, unprotected sex (tut tut), creampie, a whole lot of swearing

AN // i love this man a ridiculous amount, so me writing nearly 5k about how much i love him was inevitable

AO3 link here

Simon Riley is not a man who cares about his own health. In fact, his wellbeing never has, and never will be a priority to him. He has work to do, gruelling, gritty, gruesome work, it is beyond pointless wasting time even thinking about when he last had more than 3 hours sleep, or how long it’s been since he consumed anything other than cold military rations. In his defence, he’s never really had a reason to give a shit, he sees the hourglass whenever he allows himself to close his eyes; watches the sand slip rapidly through the cracks, counting down until his inevitable, most likely painful death. He’s living life on a timer, and he’s never had a reason to change that.

Until he met you.

You were a wide-eyed rookie, Laswell bringing you into the fold as a technician, a skilled hacker and mechanic who despite your innocent doe eyes, held lethal talents. He remembers so vividly, the way your head had cocked to the side as Laswell introduced you to the peculiar members of task force 141, remembers the way your eyes stopped on him. You showed not a single ounce of fear or hesitance, just pure unbridled curiosity. That same curiosity led you to asking him far too many questions, relentlessly prying to see more of the man behind the mask, to see Simon Riley, rather than ‘Ghost’. It should have pissed him off, he should have reprimanded you for your callousness towards your Lieutenant, but somehow you knew exactly which questions to ask, knew exactly when to stop and move on to other subjects.

Contrary to popular belief, Simon doesn’t hide his past, doesn’t try to use it to fuel the mysterious and mythical reputation he’s unwittingly built. It’s just that no one ever asks. Maybe it’s something about the skull mask, or the egregiously high kill count he sits so casually on top of that has people wary of ever approaching him. But you—you had no hesitation. You read him like a goddamn book every single time, and it simultaneously terrified and relieved him.

One glance and every secret he shoved behind his balaclava is left bare before you, leaving him with a vulnerable, gaping wound in the shape of a lifetime of trauma and tales that Simon knows no person should ever have to experience. And yet, your eyes hold not an ounce of pity, no awkward silences attempting to be alleviated with an awkward pat on the back and a “that sounds rough, buddy”. You see his past, his pain, his suffering, his bad habits, without him ever having to explicitly say anything. And in return, you say nothing. You don’t try and mollify him about circumstances he’s moved on from long ago, you make no effort to coddle him, to sit him down and patronisingly ask him if he’s doing well, or when the last time he slept was.

Instead, you leave him cutely packaged leftovers on his doorstep, easy meals he can throw in the microwave when he’s too tired to even comprehend making food. You buy him a multitude of jigsaws and puzzles for when sleep evades him as it so often does. You never once try to change him, never force yourself into his life just so you can claim that you’re some selfless martyr. To Simon Riley, you are nothing short of a blessing, and falling in love with you was quite frankly the easiest thing he’s ever done.

He takes off the mask for the first time when neither of you were prepared, nor expecting it. The mission had been so fucking rough, camped out in the middle of nowhere on the hunt for someone he was sure had long since gone. Weeks spent trudging through thick mud, swimming upriver, tracking footprints that led nowhere, steered them to no one. His bone-deep exhaustion finally caught up with him after being shot in the leg and falling nearly 75 metres off of a cliff, plunging into the water below. Price had insisted he go straight to the medic tent back at basecamp, but then simply sighed and shook his head, resigned, as he watched Simon limp off the chopper, and in the exact opposite direction.

To most, this would be the latest example of Simon Riley once again disregarding his health for the sake of keeping up the stoic, strong mask he never let slip. Yet this time, Simon Riley was not disregarding his health, he was, for maybe the first time, trying to preserve what little of it he had left. His leg was near numb by the time he made it to your tent, his foggy mind quickly soothed by the sound of you humming along to the radio, accompanied by the rapid clicking of keys as you worked on some coding. It takes him hissing in discomfort as he attempts to remove his military boots for you to turn around, eyes going impossibly wide as you watch an alarmingly large pool of red grow at his feet.

“Jesus Christ Ghost, are you trying to redecorate my floor?” He kept his mouth shut, using the last dregs of his energy to keep his gaze pinned on you, dark brown irises following your every move as you usher him into the chair you occupied merely seconds before, gingerly hovering your hands over the drenched material that clings to his thigh, soaked in blood and water.

“I’m going to cut the material above the wound, okay? I need to see what I’m working with here.” Your eyes connect with his unwavering gaze, translating his silence into a language that has taken you an eerily short period of time to become fluent in. He watches you nod to yourself, can pinpoint the cogs turning in your mind, can practically see you write the list of how best to deal with this situation as you unpack your first aid kit. Somehow, despite his leg stinging like a bitch, despite how utterly worn he feels, so raw and rough around the edges, he feels at peace.

Price may think he was a stupid bastard for not seeing one of their trained medics, but Simon knows without a doubt that you will always be the best thing for him, you will always be the first port of call, the lighthouse that guides him oh so safely to shore, to home. Even when your stitches are a little uneven, even when you dab a little too much alcohol disinfectant onto his wound, even when you wince every time the muscle in his leg twitches involuntarily, he watches you pour every ounce of care and tenderness into every touch, watches you take care of him in a way no one else ever could, not that he’d let them.

You’re finishing off wrapping up the wound on his thigh when Simon realises he doesn’t want this moment to be over. He selfishly craves more of your delicate, gentle care, unsure if he could ever have this again after tonight, if he deserved it.

So, he waits. He waits for you to lean back on your haunches, bending back to check your handiwork with a satisfied smile tugging at your pretty lips. He waits for your eyes to drift to his, as they so often do, and then he speaks.

“I uh, I got hurt here too,” The words grate against his throat like sandpaper, rough and unsure as he lifts his hand to prod at his cheek, “think I hit a rock in the water after falling.” You stand immediately, eyebrows furrowed together as your fingers gently brush the small rip in his mask.

“I can’t see much with this in the way, Ghost, though I think you’ll live.”

Simon couldn't pinpoint exactly what had his fingers hooking under his mask, couldn’t single it down to any particular moment or word that had him pulling the black material over his chin, and up past his nose, he just knew it felt right. All he focused on was the way your lips fell agape, how your hands lifted automatically towards his wrists, whether to stop them or encourage them further he didn’t know, but he sure as fuck clocked the slight tilt to your head, taking him immediately back to when you first laid eyes on him.

You were looking at Simon in a way he can’t say he’s ever experienced. Like a complicated mixture of guilt and awe. But he feels no fear, no regret as he throws the skull balaclava unceremoniously onto the floor, and directly into the pool of blood he’d left by the door.

“Should be a little easier to see now, don’t you think?”

All he gets in return is a small huff of a laugh, the ghost of your breath fanning across his exposed face, he swears he’s never felt anything as sweet. That is until your hand comes to cup his face, shudders erupting down his spine when the pads of your impossibly soft fingers brush just under the superficial cut on his cheek.

“I don’t know Si, I think we might have to amputate.” You murmur, an overly dramatic lilt to your voice as you pretend to further examine the ‘wound’. And Jesus fucking Christ, if he isn’t so impossibly, incredibly fond of you.

“That bad, huh doc?” He leans forward, just enough to catch the way your pupils dilate, the slight hitch to your usually even breath, “Are you sure there’s nothing you can do to save it? I’m particularly fond of that cheek.” He drinks in the soft hum you give in response, watches you with rapt attention as you lean further forward, and nearly passes the fuck out when you press your lips to his upper cheekbone, because what the fuck.

Before this, Simon Riley could say with absolute certainty that he’d never once blushed in his life, but now? He could feel the blood rushing to his face, knowing without a doubt that you could feel the heat radiating from where your fingers and lips remain connected to his skin. His wide eyes, blackened around the sockets from a mixture of paint and week-long exhaustion, remain firmly fixed on you, hardly hesitating before he secures your hand against his face the second he feels you pulling away.

There are no words exchanged, nothing but shallow breaths and searching eyes before Simon allows himself to be selfish just this once and pulls you onto his uninjured thigh, guiding you to sit with his other hand, fingers digging ever so slightly into the meat of your hip. And now he has you here, right where he’s always wanted you, there’s not a chance in hell he’s ever letting you go.

“Please kiss me, Simon.”

As if he could ever say no to you.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He removes his hand from your wrist, dragging his scarred knuckles as delicately as he possibly can across your cheek, fanning out his fingers around the side of your face, using the leverage to guide you impossibly closer. He allows himself one last look, tracing his gaze from your lidded eyes to your lips before he lets his eyelids fall shut, and loses himself in you. Loses every ounce of tension and exhaustion under the ministrations of your fingers as they tangle into his hair, and finally, fucking finally, he feels his once cold, dead heart thrum to life as you sigh contentedly against his lips. Kiss of life in-fucking-deed.

He's lost in every inch of you, can’t get over how soft and warm the plush of your waist is under his fingers, how responsive you are when he slides his hand ever so slightly under your oversized t-shirt. He wants more, he needs more, can’t help himself as he moves his kisses from your lips, down your jaw, until he reaches the base of your throat, sucking deep purple bruises into your supple skin.

“You taste like heaven,” He’s all too aware of how raspy his voice has become, desire only deepening his tone further as he drags his lips back up the expanse of your throat, a deep groan pulled from his throat when he feels you shift on his lap, highlighting the growing pressure of his cock straining against his pants. “Driving me fuckin’ wild already. Look what you’ve done to me, gorgeous.” His fingers come to curl under your jaw, directing your gaze down to the prominent tenting of his trousers, ensuring his eyes don’t dare drift away from your face as he watches you take in the view before you.

“Mine.”

The noise Simon makes in response is nothing short of primal, it wasn’t a sound he was even aware he could make, near guttural, but of course you would be the one to pull it out of him.

“That’s right baby, all yours, fucking hell,” he’s powerless to stop his eyes squeezing shut when he feels your fingers curl around his clothed cock, mustering every ounce of strength he has left not to cum in his pants there and then, because he’ll be fucking damned if he lets anything get in the way of giving you the pleasure you deserve.

“Come on Si, look at me.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath before he finally opens his eyes again, instantly zeroing in on your fingers as they begin to unfasten his pants, before flicking back up to meet your gaze, “Is this okay?”, your voice tentative.

“More than okay, Jesus,” Simon wastes little time after that, hands sliding under your shirt and shifting further up your torso, muscles freezing when his hand contacts nothing but bare skin, grazing the flesh of your breasts.

“No bra? Lucky me.” You laugh, arching your back further into his touch.

“More like lucky me, those things are basically torture devices, Simon, I’d like to see you try and work with metal wire and straps digging into your boobs and back,” He grins, pinching one of your nipples between two of his calloused fingers and revelling in the way your smirk twists into a moan, hips twitching against the rough material of his cargo pants.

“I think it’s about time you took these off,” He mutters, one hand dropping to thumb under the waistband of your sweatpants, “Can’t tell you the number of times I’ve thought about how pretty you’d look getting yourself off on my lap.” Apparently, Simon doesn’t need to say anymore, watching with intense eyes as you pull away from his grip, and begin undressing. Your top joins his mask on the floor, soon followed by your pants and underwear until you’re stood in all your naked glory, mere inches away from him. Simon must be the luckiest son of a bitch on this entire fucking planet.

He takes advantage of your absence by lifting his hips, cocking an eyebrow at you as he gestures towards his trousers, “Give an injured soldier a hand, would you doll?” Truthfully, Simon knows he would have no issues removing them himself, but why would he do that when he can have this instead? When he can have your body pressed in between his thighs, your deft hands undoing his buttons and sliding the material of his military pants slowly over his wrapped-up leg, when he can watch your eyes drink in every inch of new skin revealed with barely contained desire. No, he would much rather have this, especially when your dainty hands peel away his boxers, leaving him only in his top and vest plate.

“Simon…” You whine, your lips so perfectly pouted, a cute little furrow between your brows as you pull and tug at various parts of his vest, “help me take this shit off. It’s not fair that I’m the only one naked here.” He hums, schools his face to show careful contemplation, reaching up a hand to rest on your bare upper thigh.

“What’s the magic word, sweetheart?”

“Please, sir.”

Well fuck. That awakened something within him.

With military precision, he unsecured the armoured vest from his body, wasting no time in pulling his shirt over his head, joining the now large pile of clothes left scattered across the floor of your tent. For a brief second, Simon feels so incredibly vulnerable under your intense gaze, wondering if maybe this is how people feel when he fixes his stare upon them, bare and defenceless. But then you lower yourself back into his lap, settling across both his legs with such gentle care, wrapping both your arms around the back of his head and pinning him with a look he thinks most likely reflects his own.

“You’re so beautiful, Simon,” It’s almost too much, the sincerity in your voice mixed with the way the words were uttered so softly into the air, as though they were a secret only to be shared between the two of you.

“I’m nothing compared to you.” You shake your head, smiling, leaning forward until your nose brushes his.

“Just take the compliment, Lieutenant.” He tries his best not to shiver as he feels your hand trace down his spine, instead shifts his focus onto how close your lips are to his, or the quiet noise you make in the back of your throat as his hands come to grip the meat of your thighs.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Something in the air changes, as though the collective patience between the two of you could stretch no further, so taut it had no choice but to snap. His lips crash into yours, desperation surging through Simon’s veins like wildfire. Fuck, what are you doing to him?

“Can I touch you?” he mumbles against your lips, large hands aching from where they rest, yearning the feeling of your wet heat against his fingertips.

“God, yes, please.”

With newfound strength, he lifts you from his lap and twists you until your back is flush to his chest, uncaring of the twinge of pain he feels from his leg as he settles you fully on his lap. Now, Simon has full access to every inch of your perfect body, nuzzling his face into the side of your neck as he litters the skin with open mouthed kisses, humming contentedly at the way you arch into his hands as he cups your breasts with both hands, fingers toying with your nipples until they’re perked and firm under his touch.

“No teasing, please,” Your pleading breaks him from a momentary stupor, bringing his head up to watch as you place one of your hands over his, guiding it further down, sweeping over your sternum, past your belly button, until his palm rests over your cunt, “I need you here, Simon.”

Fucking hell.

He couldn't find the words, couldn’t articulate them even if he had any. So, instead of speaking, he presses his hand over the curve of your cunt, groans when he feels just how hot and wet you are, all for him.

“Mine.” He repeats your words from earlier into the shell of your ear, a smirk stretching onto his lips at the full body shiver you give in response, growing near predatory when he feels your pussy twitch under his hand. God, how the fuck are you so wet? His fingers glide over your folds with ease, teasing your clit on every upwards swipe of his fingers, and when he finally dips his index finger into your cunt, he’s rewarded with the sweetest symphony. Breathy whines and whispered pleas of “more”, “deeper, Simon, please”, every request he happily indulges, now curling two fingers against your velvet walls, searching for the spot he knows will have you keening against his body. It takes a shift of his palm, the angle changing just enough to have you choking on a gasp, his other hand remains fixed to your breasts, pushing your chest down until you’re pinned against his body.

“Atta girl, feels good huh?” He slips a third digit in, cursing under his breath as he feels your pussy clamp down, twitching helplessly around his fingers as they continue to stroke relentlessly at your g-spot, “Gonna need you to cum at least once on my fingers before I give you anything else, baby.” He dares to steal a glance at your face, and is met with closed eyes, your mouth agape, and head thrown back onto his shoulder, you’re nothing short of a masterpiece. Your hands desperately grip onto his arms, nails digging sweet red crescents into Simon’s inked skin, as though the hold you have on him is the only thing keeping you grounded, and he feels positively fucking drunk on it.

You’re close, that much he can tell, and as much as he could absolutely keep you like this on his lap for another good few hours, he takes pity on your furrowed eyebrows and soft whimpers, removing his hand from your chest and placing his thumb into your open mouth. He doesn’t even need to instruct you as you close your lips around his digit and suck, your tongue eagerly lapping at the rough pad of his finger. He doesn’t have the strength to leave it there for much longer, overly aware of the way his cock desperately twitches from where it’s trapped between your bodies, instead focusing on the way you react the second his spit slicked thumb begins to rub tight circles around your clit.

“Si-, fuck, Simon ‘m close, so close, wanna cum,” There was never any other option for him than to watch you fall apart on his lap, but if he somehow needed further encouragement, “Please Sir, please make me cum.” It would be entirely impossible for him to stop the moan your words drag from his throat, to think of anything other than giving you your release. It’s obvious when your orgasm hits, having to stop toying with your now engorged clit to instead pin your hips down, worried there was a chance you might fall to the side if he didn’t keep you grounded.

“Good girl, such a good fucking girl, made such a mess of my fingers baby,” Simon hums against the side of your head, slowing his ministrations until he’s lazily fingering your still spasming pussy, drawing out the sweet sounds of post-orgasm sensitivity from your spit-shining lips. He waits until you finally regain some form of lucidity, waits until your neck straightens, no longer lolled against his collarbone to finally withdraw his fingers, soothing your whines at his absence with kisses to your jaw. But he makes sure your eyes are locked with his when he brings his fingers to his own lips, ensures you’re watching with nothing less than rapt attention as he cleans every drop of your arousal from his skin.

“Taste fuckin’ divine, princess.” Your head tips forward into your hands with a groan, and Simon couldn’t hide his pleased grin even if he tried.

“You’re not allowed to be this hot,” Your words muffled into your palm, the Ghost’s heart rate spiking when you looked at him shyly through your fingers, affection surging through his bloodstream like a shot of pure adrenaline. “Especially when I can feel your cock pressed against my ass.” As if he needed the reminder, as if that singular thought hasn’t been plaguing him for the past 10 minutes.

“And what exactly are you going to do about that, darling?”

His words were meant to make you shy, were said to watch those sweet eyes of yours widen. Except, Simon realises, he must have awoken something within you, something bold, something utterly fucking debauched, because instead of shying away, you lock your eyes with his, rising to the challenge he set. You stand up, turn yourself around, climb back onto his lap and sink down onto his cock in one fluid motion.

“Fucking-, shit, what the fuck,”

“I think that works for both of us, right, Simon?” You need to stop, or you at least need to give him some time to adjust to whatever the fuck it is you’re doing right now. He can tell you’re far from unaffected, however. The slight quiver to your voice, and the way the slick walls of your pussy clench greedily around him show at least that much. And yet, you’re pinning him with a fierce gaze, your fingers forming an iron grip on loose brown hair at the base of his skull, using him as leverage to grind your hips in circular motions. “Let me take care of you, handsome.” His response cut off by a groan as you begin to fuck yourself on his cock, his eyes frantically flicking from where your cunt swallows every inch of his shaft, back up to your heavy-lidded gaze, locked onto his as you effortlessly ride his cock.

So instead of trying to take the lead, to lift his hips to meet yours, for the first time ever, Simon Riley does as he’s told. He allows you to control the pace, lets you direct his hands to your waist, but doesn’t use it as a point of control. Instead he caresses your skin with rough fingers. He lets you take care of him. And God, does it feel good.

He lets his head fall back, lets his eyes slip closed, and allows himself to just exist in this moment with you. A luxury he hasn’t been able to afford for far too long. Instead, he focuses on the sounds dissipating into the air around your joined bodies, the soft pants and moans that spill from both his mouth and yours, the rhythmic slap of skin on skin combined with the slick noise of his cock fucking into your heat, and if he focuses hard enough, he swears he can hear the rapid beating of your heart where your chest is pressed flush to his.

“C’mon Simon, baby, look at me.” It takes an embarrassing amount of energy for Simon to lift his neck up, refocusing his gaze onto you, “You’re doing so well, letting me look after you like this.” And fuck, he doesn’t want to cry, can’t remember the last time he allowed himself the comfort of crying, but he feels so unequivocally safe around you. Still, the time for tears will come later, right now, Simon wants nothing more than to feel you lose yourself on his cock. He secures his hands on your ass, and stands, ignoring your surprised cries and worried scolding, and walks as best he can towards the mattress near your desk. He doesn’t want to admit that lowering you both down onto the cheap material nearly left him breathless, and he definitely won’t admit that you were right, he didn’t have the strength to do that. But now that he has you lying on top of him, cock still buried deep inside of you, he knows the pain was more than worth it. Because in this position, he can ground his feet into the mattress and focus on fucking you like you deserve.

He ignores the sting of pain in his thigh, no doubt ruining some of the stitching you had done earlier, but he couldn’t give less of a shit. Not when you’re mewling into his chest, nails scratching long, thin pink lines down the expanse of his chest as he fucks his hips ruthlessly up to meet yours. He knows he won’t last much longer, you feel too fucking good, and he has no strength to hold back, praying that you’re as close as he is as he snakes one hand down to toy with your clit once again. Relief washing over him when he feels your cunt clench like a vice around his length, allows himself one, two more thrusts of his hips before he finally reaches his peak, cock twitching like a heartbeat from where it’s buried within you, not moving until the last weak spurts of cum finish painting your cervix white.

“Fucking hell,” with his energy long since depleted, his body slumps into the mattress below, dragging you down with him, his arms still wrapped securely around your form.

“That good, huh?” You grin up at him, eyes glinting in the low light. You look positively stunning.

“You know it, sweetheart,” Simon pauses, looks down at where you’re still sprawled against his chest, and silently thanks the motherfucker who decided to shoot him in the first place, he’s not sure if he would have ever gathered the strength to have you like this, in the way he always craved. “C’mere, I want cuddles.” He grunts, choosing to ignore the surprised laugh you give in response, says nothing at your incessant teasing and light threats to tell Soap that “oh my god, Ghost likes cuddles”.

He does none of that, instead, he holds you close, stares up at the ceiling as you bury your face into his neck, whispering sweet confessions into his skin, words he soaks up and saves for a rainy day. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley has never been a man to care about his own health, even now he still sees that damn hourglass, unsure of how much sand remains. But now he has a reason to change that.

Now, he has you.

#☁︎⋅writing #simon riley #simon 'ghost' riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod mw22 #simon riley smut #simon riley imagine #ghost x reader #ghost x you #dear lord #this derailed so quick #i wanted soft ghost #i got soft ghost plus nearly 2k of soft ghost smut #i ruined myself #anyway enjoy SLDFS

11K notes · View notes

dongfuck · 6 months

Text

fuck… or die - l.dh

pairing: fem!reader x bestfriend!haechan

genre: thriller, smut, fluff, angst

warnings: pwp, hyuck calls reader ‘darling’, upside down throat fucking, loads of kissing, begging (m), slight clit play, slight grinding, cock play, slight boob play, unprotected sex, nipple play (m,f), switch!hyuck, slight degradation, teasing, cum inside, finger sucking

wc: 7.4k

note: i have not watched a second of jigsaw in my life so please don’t mind the made-up scenarios of mine :))

tagging: @tenlee77 , @readingaroundsstuff , @xxxooogossiogirlx , @blibbleboop , @yixingtion , @liz-zo , @l33j3n8 , @xhanjisungiex , @moyasamotnist , @puduwhore , @02mrk , @manggaetteokpjm , @brokndolls , @broke-multistan , @injunier , @hall0ween-twn , @najmsshoulders , @hyuckdolle , @crzns , @bbhbungee , @ohbiebersensual , @fnafgirl87 , @renjunniex , @buns-inhiding , @aspe2063 , @strwberripeachmilk , @mawnehkah , @jaybrwn , @odgsuji , @dinonuguaegi , @d1etcokewhore , @jenoxygen , @yourbeomiebear , @hchanlvr , @jenzyoit , @yeyeyyy , @kooookie , @stolasisyourparent , @jaylaxies , @lislis80 , @haechansfingers , @zkdlllin , @terresias , @annenakamura , @glitching-wren , @multifandomania06 , @harrypinks , @gishona , @farsals , @archxri

You were so bored out of your mind to the point where you’d let like you could literally rip your hair out just to kill the boredom. You’d attempted a record number of things for the past two and a half hours but you somehow still couldn’t find anything that piqued your interest. Alas, you resorted to the one thing that you were sure could help you. With a sigh, you reached for your phone and dialled your best friend’s number. The phone pressed to the left side of your ear, you waited for him to pick up as the ringing continued. Just as you were about to get impatient, Donghyuck finally answered the phone.

“Yeah?” He spoke in a breathy voice. “Hey, Hyuck. Are you busy?” You asked as you twirled the hem of your shorts. “N-No… Not e-exactly…” Donghyuck let out groans and moans between each word and you felt a little suspicious of him at that moment but decided not to point it out yet. “Um, okay, well, how do you’d feel about house exploring?” You asked with a bite of your lip. “Abandoned houses.” You clarified. “Abandoned house exploring? Shit um— I don’t know, Y/n, d-don’t you think that’s a-a little— fuck— dangerous?” His voice sounded shaky when he spoke and you figured you should finally question him about it.

“Hyuck, what the fuck are you doing?” You squinted your eyes knowing damn well he couldn’t see you. “Huh?” His mere sound of confusion sounded more of a whimper rather than anything and you visibly cringed at the sound. “No, it’s just… You sound like you’re…” Before he got the chance to reply, you heard a loud groan, louder than the ones before, coming from him followed by a sound of something heavy clanking against the ground. “I’m at the gym.” You can almost hear the smirk in his voice. “What’d you think I was doing?” He chuckled on the other line. “Nothing, I just—” You barely concealed the stutter in your voice when he suddenly cut you off.

“Did you enjoy that?”

That single question was what caught you off guard. You were so driven out of your mind that all you could do was have your jaw hung wide open as you stared at the black screen of the TV in front of you. You heard Donghyuck break out into an amused laugh as you were still trying to process what he’d just said. “Y/n? Y/n! I was joking!” He laughed again. “You were saying something about exploring haunted houses?” Finally able to regain your senses, you blinked multiple times before responding. “An abandoned house. Singular. You think we’d have the time to go through multiple?” You stated matter-of-factly. “Yeahh I’m not sure… It’s a bit risky, don’t you think? I mean… what if something happens to you? Or worse… Me!”

“Nothings gonna happen to us, Hyuck. Worse case scenario, we’d just end up lost in the area.”

“And that does not sound dangerous to you??”

After a lot of convincing, you were finally able to get Donghyuck to agree with you. “Great! Pick me up tomorrow at ten.” You said giddily. “Yeah, yeah, see ya.” Just as he was about to end the call, you suddenly got a bright idea. “Actually, Hyuck, can I spend the night at yours?”

As you stepped into Donghyuck’s one-storey house, you eyes immediately drift to the pile of clothes scattered on the floor. “God, it’s a mess!” You walked over to the clothes and carefully placed them in one place at the corner of the living room as you heard Donghyuck lock the front door behind him. “Now this is what I call, Donghyuck’s Mojo, Dojo, Casa, House.” He said as he plopped himself onto one of the sofas with his arms spread out behind him on either sides. “Disgusting.” You grimaced as you walked over to the guest bedroom and threw your bag on the bed before sitting yourself on the edge of it. With a sigh, you closed your eyes and slowly descended your body onto the comfort of his bed.

Donghyuck’s place always appeared to be cozy, homey, warm, and inviting to you. No matter how messy it was sometimes, it was still your second home. If you had to choose between Donghyuck’s house and anywhere else in the world to live in, excluding your own, you’d definitely pick your best friend’s house. Even the house you grew up in couldn’t compare to how comfortable and welcomed you feel whenever you’re in his house. Cracking open your eyes the slightest bit, you were met with a pair of eyes staring right back at you. Those eyes turned out to be owned by a man that seemed to be hovering over you. “Boo.” He said before he was pushed to the ground with all the strength you could muster inside you.

With a yelp, you pulled up both your legs from the ground and kept them close to your body. A wince along with a whine was heard coming from the man you just shoved before you got the chance to scan his figure clearly. That fucking bastard, you thought as you launched cushions and pillows his way. “You fucking idiot! Why the fuck would you do that?! You could’ve given me a heart attack y’know! Who’d be responsible of that then?!” Your chest raised and dropped before you sat yourself down once again. “Chillax, mama. It was a joke!” Donghyuck rubbed his bottom, probably from the impact of hitting the ground before standing up on his own two feet. “What did you just call me?” You felt your left eye twitching before you got up and slowly made your way towards him with the last pillow in your right hand.

“Mama?”

That was the last word he’d managed to let out before all hell broke loose.

You laid your head in the palm of your hand as you awaited the arrival of your best friend on his sofa. You always found him cute… and sometimes even attractive, but you’d never admit that out loud. There was no reason for you to do so. People often assumed the two of you were dating seeing how close you two were but you’d simple wave them off, telling them how stupid they sound. After all, you’re just friends. And you’re confident Donghyuck feels the same way. A tap on your shoulder snapped you out of your train of thoughts. “You’re here.” You stood up with a smile plastered on your face. “Yep. Let’s go.” Donghyuck wrapped an around your shoulder and walked the both of you out the front door.

The night was pitch black with the moon shining brightly behind the thick grey clouds. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” He asked as the both of got into his car. The vehicle was given to him on his 19th birthday and you clearly remember the wide and prominent grin on his face when he’d received it. You remember how happy he looked. You remember how you’d do anything to see that smile of his again. “Positive.” You rolled off and nodded slightly in assurance. To yourself, rather than anyone else. A low chuckle sounded from the man next to you that made you glance toward him with narrowed eyes. “What’s so funny?” You asked jokingly. “Nothing, it’s just that I find it cute how you’re so confident about this whole haunted house exploring thing.” On some other days, your stomach would twist and turn at the sound of him calling you cute; but this was not the right time. Not when you’re setting your paranormal-activist mood on.

“The house is not haunted, it’s just abandoned.” You had your arms crossed against your chest as you kept your eyes trained on the dark road in front of you. Donghyuck is known for his decent driving skills; unless he’s furious or drunk. That’d turn him reckless. “Same thing.” He shrugged. Rolling your eyes, you felt your eyelids growing heavier by the minute and in the span of seconds, you dozed off. It wasn’t long (at least to you it wasn’t) before Donghyuck woke you up from your slumber, letting you know that you’ve reach your destination. “Fuck, this place is terrifying.” He cursed under his breath. “Let’s check it out.” Just as you were about to open the car door, you felt a cold hand gripping your arm as you shared eye contact with the man next to you before he asked you for the second time that night.

“You sure about this?”

Giving him your most assuring smile, you nodded and lifted his hand away from your skin and tapped it gently. “I have zero doubts, Hyuck.” You threw him one last smile before exiting the vehicle and taking in the sight in front of you. Little did you know that you would regret saying that later. Donghyuck was right. It is terrifying. Horrifying, even. You sucked in a breath of nervousness when the boy came up next to you, brushing the back of your palm with his. Stealing a glance down at your watch, you sighed at the time. It was precisely eleven o’clock in the evening. “Come on, we’ve got no time to waste.” You marched toward the house opposite you with an anxious Donghyuck trailing behind you. And just like that, the two of you found yourselves at the doorway of the closest thing to hell. That may be an exaggeration.

The house looked like it had been used for balls and dances back in the day. It used to be beautiful, you could feel that thought throbbing in your bones. A sense of grief, mesmerisation, and… longing somehow washed over you. You had the barest idea of where it had come from and you weren’t sure if Donghyuck felt it too. Shaking away that thought, you whipped out your phone and turned on the flash as Hyuck did the same. You made your way to some of the picture frames on the wall and figured out well, nothing. The photographs presented pictures of kids. Some in a straight line, some in a circle, a few were playing around. Though weirdly enough, they were all of different children. You tried to understand it but you couldn’t comprehend how not even one of them were in two or more pictures.

Ignoring that fact, you walked up the stairs and continued looking at the dozens of frames, brushing you fingers over one of them that had so much dust, you could barely see the photograph. “Y/n, maybe we shouldn’t be touching these st—” Immediately, you shushed him with a glare before further examining the pictures. This one was a group of children as well, the only thing different this time though, was that a man was standing with his left hand wrapped around a little boy. A masked man. The mask wasn’t at all pleasing to the eye, but for some reason, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from it. It was disgusting, really, but there was something trying to lure you to him and you can confidently say that it’s working. Although, the more you looked, the uneasy you felt so you blinked away the sight from your mind and checked for the boy behind you.

“Hyuck?” You called out softly as you watched him looking a little too closely one of the picture frames. “Right behind you, darlin’.” Donghyuck took two steps of the stairs at a time before meeting with you at the top. “This place is giving me the chills. He pretend-shivered as he looked around the top floor. “It’s supposed to.” You took a deep breath before you walked towards one of the close doors. Pushing it slightly, the door parted just by an inch before it slammed shut forcefully on itself. The sudden sound startled the both of you so much that you almost shoved Donghyuck down the stairs. “Woah, easy there, Y/n. You got a grudge on me or somethin’?” He held both of your shoulders to prevent you from jerking back too much as he laughed softly. “Sorry, I—” Instead of giving you time to finish he dragged you into a brightly lit room at the end of the hall.

“What is this?” You’d asked the moment you step foot in the room. The walls were coloured white with countless amounts of graffiti drawn onto them. Weirdly enough, the room was… clean and well-ventilated as well, unlike the rest of the house. It looked like someone was living here. You spotted an air conditioner which was turned on and was set to 24°C. A shiver ran through your spine as you thought of all the possibilities that someone or something might have turned on the AC and kept this place clean. Who would be paying for electricity for a house like this? Other parts of the house didn’t seem to have electricity. You did as much as trying the lights earlier which didn’t seem to work. Everything just didn’t click in your mind.

“Well this is cozy.” Your eyes drifted to your best friend who had placed himself comfortably on a sofa at the end of the room. “Hyuck!” Making your way towards him, you pulled him to his feet and looked at him with furrowed brows. “You can’t just act like you’re at home! Look around! Don’t you find this a bit odd?” You paced around the room until you found yourself sitting cross-legged on the floor. Donghyuck had sat back on the sofa with a lollipop he pulled out from his pocket stuffed between his lips. “You’re overreacting. Look at the bright side! We get to spend our time here! In this surprisingly comfortable room!” He smiled.

You thought him crazy. He must’ve lost his mind. “Fine. You can stay here all you want. I’m leaving.” Seeing you stand up and walk towards the exit, Donghyuck instantly got up to stop you. But it was too late, you were already turning the knob. Crk! Crk! The door wouldn’t budge. Fuck. “Are we…” Donghyuck started. “Fucking locked in.” You finished. Your hand dropped hopelessly from the door knob and back to your side. “So much for a good idea.” You muttered to yourself as you sat back down with your back against the door. Before Hyuck got the chance to say any of his stupid comforting and reassuring words, the TV on the top left corner of the room that you failed to notice lit up; revealing a man with a mask that looked precisely like the one you saw in the previous photograph.

“I see you’ve made it.” A distorted voice sounded.

What the fuck? What in the heavens is going on? “W-Who are you?!” Donghyuck exclaimed, his eyes fluttering unconsciously. “You can call me Billy, Lee Donghyuck.” Billy grinned from ear to ear sinisterly as you were still trying to process what’s going on. “How the fuck…” You heard your best friend mutter under his breath as he pulled your body closer to his. “What do you want from us, Billy?” He braced himself to question the man behind the screen in a stern voice. “Let’s just say… Fuck. Or die.” Billy had a little smirk on his (you assume) plastic face. “Hold on, what?” You managed to let out. “See it this way, I’m offering you a chance to leave this room unharmed and maybe even happier than when you first arrived here for the sole agreement that you have intercourse amongst yourselves.” He repeated. This time more descriptive. “However if you disagree, you might as well starve to death.”

Millions of thoughts were running through your head as you gathered what he’d just said. He had no business in your sex life so why is he forcing you to fuck your own best mate? Let alone watch. Is he that much of a pervert? “Horny fuck.” You spoke quietly under your breath. “I heard that.” With his mask on, you couldn’t see anything but his eyes and the curve of his mouth. But you could very well see that he was glaring at you through the screen and had a scowl in his face. “If you agree, just call for me and I’ll adjust everything according to your liking. For example, if you’re feeling a little naughty,” Suddenly, the lights in the room switched from paper white to devil’s red. “I can change the light to a different colour. You can even ask me to turn on some music, if you’d like.

At the lack of response, Billy cleared his throat and spoke for one last time, “I’ll give you 24 hours to think about it. Meanwhile, you can call it a day on the bed I just brought in for you. Goodnight, lovelies.” before the screen went black. Speechless, you had your eyes wide and were not blinking as you made your way to sit at the edge of the bed, Hyuck joining you not long after. “It sounds like a win-win situation, doesn’t it?” He said awkwardly. “What? You get to fuck me and he gets to watch? You men are sick in the head.” You rolled your eyes. You perhaps were being dramatic but all you wanted right now was to go to bed in the comfort of your own room, in your own house. “No! What I meant was that, we get to leave and he gets what he wants!” He attempted to defend himself.

“You know what, let’s not talk about this tonight. I’m too tired for this shit.” You told him and he was seen nodding before the lights were seen dimming until it was pitch black. Slipping off your shoes, you climbed onto the bed and settled yourself comfortably and waited for Donghyuck to do the same. You were starting to enjoy being here. The temperature was perfect, the air was fresher, and the bed was beginning to feel even more lovable than your own. Once the boy next to you was nicely tucked in, you looked toward one of the blinking red lights at the top four corners of the room before asking,

“A yellow nightlight maybe?”

The next morning, you’d woken up with zero sense of time. There were no windows and the lights were still turned off. For all you know, it could be three in the morning right now. “You’re up.” Billy spoke before he turned the lights back on. Cursing under your breath at the sudden light intrusion, you looked to the side with squinted and furrowed brows just to realise that Donghyuck was still soundly sleeping. As you were admiring his face, there was suddenly a loud siren coming from the speakers in the room (which you had no clue of). Almost immediately, Hyuck jolted awake from his slumber before sitting up straight. “Bloody hell!” He glared at the masked man behind the screen. “Forgive me for the inconvenience. Have the lot of you made your decision?” Billy smiled cheekily. “No? we just woke up!” A gun shot was heard followed by a screech from you and a muted gasp from Donghyuck.

You search for what had been shot and found that the sofa now has a hole on its armrest. “Talk to me like that again and that’s going to be you.” Billy said. You huffed angrily as you felt Hyuck pulling you into a warm embrace. “Don’t let him get under your skin.” He whispered into your ear quietly enough to ensure that Billy couldn’t hear him. Sighing, you gave him your warmest smile before looking back toward the screen. You weren’t given then chance to look for where the gun shot had came from until it was already too late. “We’re gonna do it.” You told Billy. That statement elicited a sound of confusion from Donghyuck and a barely-noticeable look of surprise from the man you were speaking to. “Well, just let me know when you’re ready. Remember, I’m always watching.” And just like that, the screen went black and all you saw was the reflection of the room looking right back at you. “Y/n, we don’t have to do this if you don’t—” You cut him off with a short, “We have to. We have to and you know we do.” You looked away from him and took a deep breath. “If we want to leave early, we should—”

“Tonight.” Donghyuck started. “We’ll do it tonight and we’ll leave the next day, okay?” He raised a hand to caress your shoulder. Biting a small part of your lower lip, you smiled. “Okay.”

A few hours had passed and you’d asked Billy for the time which he simply replied, through the speakers, with, “Half past seven.” You tapped your feet anxiously against the floor as you kept glancing over to Donghyuck who had fallen asleep once again. Your phone batteries had died and both your watches stopped working the second you entered the room. Which also got you thinking, where the hell did the bed come from? The first time you entered this room, no bed was in sight but now, here it is. All fluffy and cold beneath you. You were starting to feel a little hungry because all you have is a bottle of water that is half full that you so thankfully brought along with you.

Listening to your stomach growling, you glanced toward Donghyuck one last time before calling for Billy. “We’re hungry.” You told him blatantly. “And? What do you want me to do about it?” He asked, sarcasm prominent in his voice. “Get us food, perhaps?” You raised a brow. “Starve.” Rolling your eyes, you brought your legs onto the bed and leaned against the headboard with crossed arms. “How do you expect us to fuck if you’re gonna starve us?? That shit needs energy, y’know!” Your voice lowered when you were reminded of the earlier events. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice your little outburst though. “Ugh, fine. What do you want?” He asked annoyedly. “Get me Chinese and a cup of coffee, black. As for him…” You looked at Donghyuck. “Get him chicken pepperoni pizza and fried chicken, with diet coke.” You’ve known Donghyuck since you were in middle school and almost every time you guys went out, he’d order the exact same thing. Pizza, fried chicken, coke.

“Of course, m’lady.” You could almost hear the roll of his eyes in his voice when he spoke, making you smile inside. A few minutes later, you heard a knock on the entrance door before it opened slightly and two plastic bags were placed by the door. Before you were given the chance to pull the door open even more, it shut itself closed loudly, almost hitting your hand with the edge. “Son of a bitch.” You muttered quietly. Grabbing the bags, you placed them on a coffee table opposite the couch and made your way toward Donghyuck to wake him up. “Hyuck,” You shook him softly. “Hyuck, wake up.” You shook him again. Just as you were about to call him a third time, his hand snaked around your waist and pulled you closer to him before making you sit on the bed next to him by his crotch. “Lee Donghyuck…” He whined in protest as he slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the yellow light you’d requested an hour earlier. “We got food.” You smiled. “Pizza?” Seeing you nod, he instantly sat up and made a beeline to where the food was placed, leaving you in the bed.

Slowly, you stood up and sat next to him on the sofa as you grabbed your food. You waited a few seconds before asking, “How are you so calm about all of this?” you watched him take a bite of his pizza. “It’s not me that’s calm, it’s you that’s being paranoid, darlin’.” He sipped on his coke. “No but— You’re not even a tiny bit worried?” Your eyebrows connected with each other. “Oh trust me, Y/n, I am.” And with that, you decided to stop with questions and just eat your food calmly.

It’s ten now. You know that much. You also know what’s about to come when you’re sat on the bed opposite Donghyuck, both trying hard not to look at each other. It should come naturally. But the both of you decided that the best idea was to just—

“Let’s just kiss.” You said.

“Yeah, that’s sounds doable.”

Now with your lips on his, you couldn’t help but think of how long you’ve wanted this. How long you’ve been thinking of kissing those soft lips of his. Your hands found their way to his neck as you pulled him closer to you. You probably pulled a little too hard when you’d let your back touch the soft mattress. His hands were placed by your head on either sides as your own started to roam his body. Starting with his shoulders, you massaged them a little bit, moving from side to side which elicited a groan from Donghyuck. “Fuck, you’re driving me insane, Y/n.” He spoke between kisses. “So am I fucking a mad man?” You joked, pulling away slightly and tilted your head to one side as you looked at him in the eye. “Oh I’ll show you a mad man.”

You gasp at the sudden feeling of his mouth aggressively leaving trails of alive along your jawline, the back of your ear, all the way to your barely exposed chest. Licking, kissing, sucking, everything, was done to your skin as you let out soft moans. Pulling back, he took off the shirt you were wearing swiftly before reattaching his lips onto your skin. Donghyuck’s lips went lower and lower until they found themselves biting on your tender breasts, his hands playing their part as they grasped your boobs a little too hard. A yelp was heard from you all whilst he was biting at your skin. You let out disgruntled noises when he suddenly shoved two fingers into your mouth with his free hand.

“D-Donghyuck…” You managed to say, earning a low hum from the said boy. You weren’t able to say anything else when he suddenly bit hard in your right nipple, making way for you to whine loudly. Ignoring you, he licked a line from between your breasts to your belly button, flicking his tongue a little longer on it. But before he got the chance to act out, you quickly pulled him by the hair to meet his eyes, receiving a breathy groan from him. “I wanna suck you off.” You admitted shamelessly. The look you were given was priceless. He looked as surprised as he would be if he saw an elephant singing. “Oh come on, don’t act so surprised now. We were bound to do it anyway.” You shrugged and ruffled his hair with an innocent smile. “I so need to fuck you right now.” He dove in for another kiss but was stopped when you placed a finger to his lips.

“Let. Me. Suck. You. Off.”

You watched the way he bit his lip as his breathing began turning ragged. “You serious?” He asked. It sounded more of a statement rather than question but you answered nonetheless. “As serious as I ever will be.” You softened your gaze and situated your right palm against the waistband of his sweats. “Then fuck.” Right after he said that, he stood off the bed as you let your head hang over it to watch him. In less than ten seconds, his gray sweatpants along with his black boxers were off to the ground, leaving him in only his white hoodie before turning his head away. “Don't look at me like that.” He said through gritted teeth. You tilted your head slightly. “I’m not looking at you, I'm looking at your dick.” Blinking your eyes multiple times, you eyed his cock as it continuously bumps against his stomach, blood rushing to it the same time the red liquid rushes to your head. A strained groan from Donghyuck echoed through the room as he met your eyes once again. “You wanna suck me off so bad? Fucking take all of it.” A foot towards you and the next thing you knew he was stuffed into your mouth, balls meeting your nose.

You almost gagged at the sudden intrusion. Your hands found their place on opposite sides of you, gripping at the sheets beneath you. “Shit—” A strangled groan sounded. Donghyuck rammed himself into the warm of your mouth so harshly you started to feel numb, the back of your throat on fire. Whatever you attempted on telling him only turned slurred, making in hard for him to decipher what message you were trying to send. Despite that, he still couldn’t bring himself to stop. Let alone pull out. “What you tryna say, darlin’? Hm?” He brought his hand to your reddened neck before using a finger to trace the lines of his bulge visible against the supple skin of your neck. Raising your own hand, you tapped it rapidly at his thigh. It’s not like you wanted him stop, trust me, you would give anything to have him filling your mouth like this forever. What you wanted was for him to have the slightest bit of mercy on you, give you some space to breathe, at least. Instead of doing just that, he placed his foot by your head for the sole reason of penetrating your throat deeper.

Bubbles of saliva were drooling down the sides of your face, making it all wet and sticky. Seeing this, your best friend added oil to the fire by smearing the liquid all over your face, from your chin, to your eyes, and all the way over to your forehead before squeezing his balls with the substance as lubricant. Finally, after one last squeeze, his load flowed through you throat, making you instantly choke on his thick cock. His moan was so loud and whiny that you almost forgot the guy who literally almost killed you if he hadn't pulled out a second earlier. Immediately after that, you rotated yourself so your head was resting against the soft pillow as you took quick breaths. “You motherfucker.” You cursed with a glare being thrown his way. Shrugging you off, he climbed onto the bed and pulled your legs apart before settling himself between them. “Would you fancy doggy, the classic missionary, cowgirl, or... spooning?” The question probably wasn't even intended for you because a millisecond after he said that, he had his eyes on one of the cameras.

“What would you like, Billy?”

It was a whole minute before he replied and the silence you were given almost made you think that he wasn't even there. Wasn't watching, wasn't listening. Remember, I'm always watching.

“Threesome.”

His response nearly got you puzzled. Nearly. If it wasn't for the two seconds of eye contact with Donghyuck, the realisation wouldn't have dawned upon you. The fact that he was speaking through the speakers and not through the screen didn't help. You couldn't see his posture, couldn't make out his breathing, couldn't figure if he was being serious or not. You weren’t given the time to process what he’d just said before one of the graffiti-covered walls parted open, revealing a man in a suit making his way toward you. You glanced at his face just to notice that he had a mask on. Billy. There was probably something about the way the both of you looked at him that made him say: “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” He angled his head in your direction and eyed your figure up and down before saying again, “Or maybe I do.” in a hushed voice. “Take it off.” Donghyuck told Billy. “What? My clothes? Gladly.” His hands found their way to loosen his tie before Hyuck grimaced.

“No. Your mask.” There was a knowing look in your best friend’s eyes. Almost as if he knew something. He’d covered his lower half right before Billy made an appearance. Billy smiled viciously. “Are you that eager to know?” He tucked his hands in his pockets and brought up his chin slowly before raising a theoretically invisible eyebrow at the both of you. “Take it off.” The boy opposite you repeated, his tone more demanding this time. “You asked for it.” Was the last thing he said before looking to the ground and slowly removed his mask. You couldn't see his face. Not quite yet. But Hyuck seemed to recognise him just by the sight of his eyebrows. “Mark?” your eyes drfited to Donghyuck and watched as his face twisted into different variations of emotions with his eyebrows twitching. Shock, anger, betrayal, rage, disappointment, all of the negatives. This so-called ‘Mark’ looked up and met his gaze. “Long time no see, Haechan.” He smiled knowingly. “Don’t call me that.” His lips twitched this time.

“Why not? Does it hurt, Haechan? Did you hurt?” Mark looked like he was on the verge of bursting into a fit of laughter, just to rub it in Hyuck’s face. Looking in front of you, you saw the way Donghyuck had his lips tucked between his teeth with both his hands curled into fists. You wanted to ask what happened, wanted to know how they knew each other but the tension in the room was so heavy, you couldn't even bring yourself to clear your throat. Which has been itching for a clearing for a hot minute now. “Don’t talk as if you know the truth.” Donghyuck’s eyes softened at the last bit. You wanted to reach for him, to hold him, but you couldn’t. Not right now. “Oh, believe me, I know. I had eyes everywhere. Still do.” Mark was no longer smiling now. Having had enough, Hyuck stood up, let his no-longer-hard cock hang and made his was toward Mark. Not caring for the humiliation.

“You weren’t there when it happened. You weren’t there when I needed you. You weren’t there when I looked for you, you were never there!" Hyuck babbled, catching his breath afterwards. “If only you knew how hard I tried not to be there. You were everywhere. You were everywhere and it disgusted me.” Mark bent down and picked up Donghyuck's clothes from the floor. “Put some clothes on.” He told him before tossing him the garments and continuing. “You took everything from me, my family, my friends, Chae. You were probably too in and over your head to realise that, weren’t you? All giddy and cheerful without a care for the world, huh? For the people around you? For their feelings? I hope you hurt. I hope you still are,” Mark stole a quiet glance at you. “hurting.” His voice when he spoke was calm, stable, soothing even. A contrast to his words and you found yourself melting into it.

Guilt flashed across Hyuck’s face as he tensed his figure. “You could’ve told me.” Shaking his head slightly, Mark sighed and looked away. “Leave. I’m done. It’s done.” What’s done? The thought flashed through your mind as you watched intently at the scene playing out in front of you. “What was the point of this? Of all of this,” Your best friend gestured to his surroundings. “You knew we were coming, so why?” Hyuck demanded. “The point,” Mark emphasised with a raised voice before slowing it back down. “Haechan, was to confront you. To relieve the weight of this confession from my chest. You served your purpose, so leave. The both of you.” This time, Donghyuck was the one shaking his head. Pulling you out of the bed, he dragged you to the exit before turning the knob and pushing you out the door with him. “What happened?” You asked, the second you stepped foot outside. The familiarity of it all taking a hold on you. “This story involves star-crossed lovers, betrayal, and suicide.” He muttered the last bit silently. You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not but he didn’t let you dwell on that thought for too long when he wrapped an arm around your waist and led you out of that place.

Once the two of you got into his car (which was surprisingly still intact), Donghyuck let his forehead fall to the steering wheel. Sighing loudly as he did so. Not knowing what to do, you raised a hand and rubbed his back gently. “Thanks, Y/n.” He said without an ounce of expression visible in his face, or at least, the side. “Want me to drive?” You offered, seeing as he wasn’t in such a good shape. “No, it’s okay,” He straightened his back as you pulled your hand away. “My place?” He looked at you, you smiled. “Your place.”

Donghyuck’s hands found their place at the dips of your waist as he pushed you against the wall of his entryway roughly. “Fuck.” You heard him curse softly under his breath as you wrapped your arms around his neck, unconsciously bringing him closer to you. “I need this,” He kissed you once. “I need you.” He kissed you for a second time. Looking into his deep brown orbs, the both of you shared intimate heavy breaths as he laid his forehead against yours. “I know. I know, Hyuck. I know.” You tugged softly at his brown locks, which made him shut his eyes and moan softly. “Please…” His voice broke as he tightened his grip on your waist. “Please,” He begged. “Let me… Please,” Hyuck opened his eyes and looked at you with heavy-lidded eyes. Instead of responding to him, you bit your lower lip and dove in for a kiss once again. Almost as if reflex took a hold of him, he brought your lower halves impossibly closer before picking you up and making you wrap your legs around his waist.

He led you to his bedroom with your lips still locked and threw you onto the bed with him. You sighed softly when you felt his hand coming under your shorts, playing with your clit over your panties. “Hyuck…” You said against his lips as you began to subconsciously grind against his palm, soaking the flimsy material. When he started to tug at the waistband of your underwear, your eyelids flew open before you released the kiss and stopped his movements altogether by holding onto his wrist. “No,” You said. “I’m doing you tonight, aren’t I?” Tilting your head, you watched as he licked his swollen lips. “But—” Shaking your head, you asked for him to flip the both of you over and that’s how you got into this position. With your legs on either sides of him and your fingers playing with the strings of his hoodie. Pulling the left and then pulling the right.

You were teasing him. You were teasing him and he knew that. He also knew that you were doing this for his sake. Because when he’s stressed, all he needs is a little tease from his favourite friend. Smiling sweetly at him, you leaned your head down so it was laying against his chest before carefully darting out your tongue just enough to have it graze over his clothed nipple. A soft curse was heard from the man underneath you as you started to give small licks to it. Taking your time, you finally decided to suck on his right bud as your free hand began on his left. Twisting your fingers against it, you used your teeth to grind it against his nipple gently, just to get him on edge. The thick material of his hoodie caused you to produce more saliva in order to have it soak his clothing.

This went on for about three minutes when Donghyuck suddenly pushed your head away, causing you to look up at him curiously. “That’s enough. Yeah? I need to fuck you right now. You know I do.” He breathed. Saying nothing, you put your hair behind your neck and crawled lower onto him, settling on the tent prominent against his pants. Wasting no time, you pulled the garment off him in an instant to which you were met with a thick, veiny, about-seventeen-centimetres-long cock hitting your nose slightly. Looking up at him, you questioned, “Where’d it go?” you were referring to his black boxers that you recall seeing earlier. “Left that jerk a little something.” He smiled lazily. Nodding your head amusedly, you slowly traced your fingers over the veins on his cock, eliciting a hiss from him. Before he got to complain, you gripped his length with all your might and began pumping him at a rapid pace.

With his eyes shut, he unconsciously fucked himself in your tight palm, his hands gripping your shoulders hard. Satisfied, you released your hand abruptly before taking all your clothes off, down to the panties. At the sudden halt, Hyuck’s eyelids flew open just to catch sight of your naked body staring right back at him. His eyes were wide, like he’d never seen anything better. “Can I…” You weren’t sure what he was referring to but that thought was cut short when he immediately pulled you toward him into a wet kiss, tongue all over. His right hand went over to your breasts, grasping it so hard it hurt. “Hyuck…” You called for him as you pulled away from the kiss and threw back your neck. Taking this advantage, he instantly attached his lips to the skin between your collarbones before trailing it slowly to the valley of your breasts with his tongue.

No matter how hard you wanted to stop him, your body seemed to have a mind of its own when your left hand placed itself behind his head, pulling him closer to your body. A strained whine was given to him when he wagged his tongue over your hardened nipple, bringing you back to your senses. Pulling at his hair roughly, his head was detached from you with a groan as you met his eyes. “What did I say?” Your tone was almost degrading, but you didn’t let that get to him. “Sorry…” He shut his eyes. You could feel his cock between your ass as he rubbed it desperately against you. Scoffing, you reached a hand to your back and angled it away from you, an annoyed whine was given to you in response. Pumping it in your palm a few last times, you raised his hips before sliding his dick into you carefully.

The both of you moaned in relief at the same time. Watching his face with every ounce of focus you have inside you, you slowly started to bounce on him. Raising and dropping your hips as his face went from relaxed to mouth-wide, eyebrows-furrowed, eyes-still-shut. “Feel good?” You asked him quietly to which he nodded rapidly. You smirked. “Yeah? I bet it does.” You fucked yourself on him harder, faster, rougher. Your own head being thrown back with your eyes rolled to the back of your skull. “Fuck, Hyuck,” Your hands found place at his shoulders, gripping them tightly. “Y/n— Please—” He strained. You rolled your hips against him harder. “Already? We just started.” You cooed as you looked down to his face. He wouldn’t look at you though. “You think you deserve to cum? Hm?” You tilted your head, you were struggling to keep your sounds to yourself just as much as he was.

“Yes, yes, yes! Please, darling…” That nickname. When used it situations like this, you could feel yourself convulsing around his cock, another loud moan from him. “Cum. Cum inside me please,” Your voice broke at the end but that was the least of your worries. The only thought running through your mind right now was the way his hot liquid filled your body, coating your insides white. The both of you moaned heavily, taking your time to gather yourself before slumping against his chest and shutting your eyes. “We should go see him.” You suggested, heavy breaths falling from your lips. Confused at the sudden change of topic, Donghyuck played with the strands of your hair before asking, “Who?”. You took your time answering, you chest rising and falling against his own as you did so.

“Mark.”

not my best work but at least it’s here! also the ending was kinda rushed so pls get me

#haechan smut #nct smut #nct hard hours #nct imagines #nct dream #haechan hard hours #nct 127 #haechan imagines #haechan x reader #donghyuck smut

2K notes · View notes

sea-lanterns · 7 months

Text

SAW

synopsis: (slasher! AU) as a devoted follower, you would do anything to please your master.

featuring: arlecchino (columbina mentioned at the end)

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, mentions of death, death traps, brief mentions of child traffi.cking, sadism, master x follower dynamic, praise, pet names (she calls you doll, babydoll, etc.) mockery, lap se.x, thigh riding, strap on, biting, hickies, rough se.x, spa.nking, manhandling, mentions of th.ree.some, implied th.ree.some at the end.

art credits: junji ito's "house of marionettes"

Fastening on the metal bear trap onto an unconscious victim’s head, you hummed an eerie tune to yourself knowing your beloved master was watching you from above. It didn’t matter that you were currently sitting in a padlocked room with a man about to die right in front of you, you just wanted to please your master by any means necessary. Even if it meant killing all these people by sending them into death traps.

You tightened a certain screw on the trap before smiling to yourself and leaning back. The man in front of you was no innocent man, he was a criminal, a monster, and he deserved this fate whether he liked it or not, causing you to smile in sadistic pleasure for the upcoming end of his life.

“Tight as a button.” You hum to yourself, looking up at the security camera located in the far right corner of the room. You knew your beloved master was watching, and you couldn’t help but give it a little wave to show that you had completed the task she assigned you. “I did it…” You exclaim softly, smiling at the flashing red light on the camera. “I’m gonna head up now, okay?”

You stood up and paid no mind to the unconscious man you just doomed to suffer a fate worse than death. Humming all too nonchalantly before leaving the room and locking it shut, ensnaring the man to leave him dead before making your way down the hall with a skip in your step. Various screams of terror and pain rang out from the other death traps as you made your way over to a secret door. The sounds of torture like a song to your ears while you pushed the passcode buttons to unlock a passage to a room.

“What an awful melody…” you murmured to yourself, glancing back at the trap rooms to listen to one more scream of terror. “It’s beautiful.”

The door to the secret passageway popped open and you moved inside with ease, your body slipping through as you maneuvered through the narrow hallways of the abandoned building. “Abandoned” as it appeared to the public, people unaware of the multiple deaths coinciding within its walls for the police have failed to track down the mastermind behind these deaths.

The mastermind to which you served and dedicated your entire life to.

Navigating your way towards another hidden door, you pushed it open to see a tall woman sitting idly in front of a bunch of security cameras, her lean figure illuminated by the many monitors and making her seem like a god of some sort. A pleasant shiver runs down your spine when you see her, and you immediately take a bow and keep your head down low.

“Master, the player in room 14 is ready to begin his game.” You say with grace, glancing up at the taller woman in hopes of pleasing her. The woman doesn’t move for a moment, but her chair creaks slightly as she slowly turns around to face you. There she was. Your savior, your master, your goddess. The one behind the torture games, the mastermind behind all the killings…

Arlecchino, the Jigsaw killer.

“Come, sit.” She says calmly, staring at you with those X-shaped pupils of hers that had you pressing your thighs together. “On my lap, come on sweet girl…”

She points down at her legs and you immediately walk over to plant yourself on her lap. Arlecchino wrapped her clawed hands around your waist before leaning forward to take a deep inhale of the scent in your hair. “Did my doll tighten the trap like I asked…?” She whispers into your ear, exhaling with a small groan as she squeezed your hips tighter with her hands.

“I did. I followed everything you taught me to, master,” you say obediently, looking up at her with the brightest of smiles. “Did I do good? Are you proud of me?” If you had a tail it would for sure be wagging…

Arlecchino chuckled huskily before leaning down to kiss your neck. “You did wonderful, pet…” she says in a dark tone, running one of her nails over the bare expanse of your neck. “The drug should be wearing off soon. Would you like to watch his game with me?” She asks in a polite tone, almost mocking with the way she smiled at you so tenderly.

“Am I allowed to?” You ask softly, staring up at her with wide, doe-like eyes. Arlecchino groaned at the sight and had to keep herself from just shoving you onto her desk and fucking you raw right there, but she had enough restraint and took a deep breath.

“Do you have to be cute, my doll?” Arlecchino husks, staring up at you with those crimson eyes of hers. “You make it impossible not to devour you…”

Your cheeks flushed at the compliment and you couldn’t help but glance away shyly. “Sorry, master…” you say softly, causing Arlecchino to scoff before smiling. “Don’t apologize, I was merely teasing…”

She pinches your cheek with her fingers before tilting your chin over to look at the monitor in front of you. “Let’s watch his prolonged suffering together, my pet. It looks like he’s starting to awaken…”

Adjusting comfortably on Arlecchino’s lap, she kept a firm hold on your waist before watching the man in the room start to awaken. He looked dazed, clearly confused why he woke up in a green-tiled room with a metal contraption stuck to his neck. He had no idea that he was about to die if he didn’t meet the requirements for Arlecchino’s game, and the thought slightly amused you as you watched him groggily stumble around the room in delusion.

The metal contraption attached to the man’s neck was Arlecchino’s infamous “bear trap.” A simple, yet deadly death trap designed to enclose multiple spikes into a person’s head if they did not complete the challenge on time. It was one of Arlecchino’s favorite traps, as it was a trap designed to kill instantly, yet instill tremendous amounts of fear into the person, as the idea of being Iron Maiden-ed in the face was too scary not to think about…

“Ah…perhaps it’s time we give him a call,” Arlecchino hums, giving your cheek a sensual kiss. “Don’t forget your mask, my pet. The adorable marionette one that makes you look simply stunning…”

You nod obediently and grab the porcelain mask on the table, Arlecchino grabbing her own rubber mask that mimicked a slack-jaw puppet. It was so kind of your master to make you a mask of your own, one that was the perfect complementary pair to match hers so that it looked like you were a couple.

You were, but it was hidden under the facade of a master and follower cover.

“Let’s give him a wake up call, shall we?” Arlecchino grins, turning on the camera and setting up the voice distorter. When the man looks up at the TV in the room, he sees two masked people, you and Arlecchino staring back at him with the creepy and unsettling puppet masks that sent shivers down his spine. It was unsettling with the way you two presented yourselves, and he immediately began shouting at the screen for answers.

“Quiet down, will you?” Arlecchino’s voice ran through the mic, gripping your waist tighter before covering your ears. “You are disturbing my precious doll with your foul words…”

The man refuses to shut up, causing Arlecchino to glare at him through the holes of her mask. She pushes a certain button and the wires of the bear trap suddenly inch closer to the man’s face, causing him to scream.

“That’s better.” She smiles sadistically, removing her hands from your ears so you could hear. “As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me with your incompetence…”

She begins explaining the rules of the “game” giving the man a chance to escape before the inevitable closure of his death.

“You were put in this room for becoming involved in a child trafficking ring. To escape, you must find the key to the exit behind one of the tiles in this room. You have ten minutes to complete this task, failure to finish it before the intended time limit will result in the bear trap around your neck closing.”

The man’s eyes widened and you had to keep yourself from chuckling out loud.

“Your time begins now.”

Arlecchino then clicked off the camera and pulled off her mask, watching as the man began scrambling to search for all the tiles. There had to be at least a thousand tiles in that room, as every square inch of the walls and floor were covered in small, marble tiles. Ten minutes was being generous, but even within that extended time limit, you knew it was almost impossible to find the key as each tile was carefully adjusted to look normal and not out of place.

“So, what should we do while we wait for his ten minutes to be up?” Arlecchino hums, pushing her nose against your neck. She seemed to be implying she wants something intimate with you, but being the obedient follower that you are, you looked up innocently and tilted your head.

“What does master want to do?” You ask in a gentle tone, Arlecchino smirking with the most intimidating gaze.

“I want to do something sinful, my dear…” she says in a gravelly tone, practically growling into your ear before tugging at your pants. “Indulge in your master, will you?”

Another scream rips through the monitor and you couldn’t help but grow a little wet at the way Arlecchino was keen on fucking you in the middle of a game. She slowly moved her hand up your thigh and you could feel just how sharp and strong her fingers were as they squeezed the ball of flesh above your jeans. The way she could so easily kill you had you on a rush, and Arlecchino groaned at the way you started to warm up against her lap with how wet you were.

“Doll, you’re just begging for me to touch you, hmm?” She chuckles into your ear. “Need my cock in you that bad, huh? You’re lucky I decided to wear it today…”

Her hand moves down to unzip her trousers, revealing a thick strap on that you knew you could take easily with some prep. “You…You were wearing that the whole time?” You exclaim with surprise, a surge of heat pulsing through your core. “I was sitting on it the whole time…?”

She throws her head back to laugh at your stupidity. It was so endearing with how innocent you were when it came to these sorts of things. “I’m surprised you didn’t feel it,” she chuckles through her amusement. “It’s a girthy thing, almost too big if I do say so myself.”

“It’s not big…!” You quickly retort back, pouting at your master before holding onto her shoulders. “I can take it. I can take it all.”

“I don’t doubt it one bit, sweet girl,” Arlecchino grins amusedly. “However, you do need quite a bit of prep work to take such a stretch. Fortunately, you’re already semi-wet, but…” She gives you a wolfish grin before toying with the belt loop of your jeans. “I’ll need that cunt of yours dripping more if you’re gonna take me now…”

You let out a small groan before unzipping your jeans to begin kicking them off, the eagerness of getting her strap inside you too obvious not to notice, as Arlecchino found it difficult to keep a straight face. “Easy there, dollface…” Arlecchino purrs lightly, squeezing your cheeks together with her hand so your lips form a small pout. “I’m in no rush, and neither should you.”

You let out a small noise of complaint at this, before obeying her words and going at a much more leisurely pace. Once your pants and underwear were off, you sat back down on Arlecchino’s lap and whimpered at the feeling of her rough trousers against your aching hole.

“Mmm…quite a delicious sight already…” Arlecchino husks, wrapping her arms around your waist once more. “But not quite wet enough. I think it’s best if you grind against my thigh for a bit, hm?”

She stares up at you with that incredibly intimidating —yet sexy— look, rows of sharpened teeth glimmering at you under the lamplight air of the room. You had no idea how such a hot woman would be the face behind the infamous Jigsaw killer, but you weren’t complaining. She was yours and you were hers.

“Yes, master.” You respond in a soft tone, beginning to shift your hips so that you could start grinding against her pants, panting slightly from how stimulated you already were from her dirty talk.

Arlecchino chuckles and leans back, relaxing in her chair as she watches you grind and ride her thighs with resolve. The sight of you trying so desperately to appease her was such a turn on, and for a moment she forgot that she was currently overseeing a man’s death just rooms away from where you two were sitting. “That’s my good girl…” Arlecchino murmurs, unable to contain her groans as she fixes the shaft of her strap so it sits upright. “Just a little more and you can ride me silly.”

At her encouragement, you only grind harder, whimpering at the pleasurable feeling of her trousers providing friction to your already sensitive clit. There was a pulsing sensation that you could not deny, and as you kept grinding your hips on her leg, you felt yourself growing more wet.

“Goodness…you soaked a spot right on me,” your master smirks almost predatorily, “I think you’re ready to take me, sweet girl…”

As an extra precaution, Arlecchino grabs a bottle of lube from the corner of the table and squeezes a helping of it onto the impressive girth of her cock. The clear liquid drips down her shaft slowly, and Arlecchino gives the length a few shallow pumps before angling it so you could move.

“Come on, just like we practiced.” Arlecchino hums, thumbing the tip of the shaft before watching you hover over the head with a bit of hesitance. “I’ll go slow, don’t worry…”

You grip the edge of her shoulders before slowly sinking down onto the head of her cock, the wide tip slowly spearing you open before you whimper and start to feel resistance.

“Ugh…fuck…” Arlecchino grit her teeth and had to resist the primal urge to slam you down and start thrusting into you. She knew she promised you to be gentle and wanted to keep her promise no matter how tempting it may be to break.

“Easy there, easy…” she grunts and slowly eases her hips to help you adjust, watching as you slowly inch down bit by bit. “Master…” you whimper out softly, biting your lip before taking a deep breath. “I think I need more lube…”

“No, you’re fine. This is enough.” Arlecchino groans, shifting your hips with her hands before kissing your neck reassuringly. “Just need to find the right…angle…”

You let out a yelp when you suddenly sink down all the way, your hips meeting hers as all of her shaft had somehow fit into you with one swift motion.

God you severely underestimated the size. It didn’t look that long, and it wasn’t. But oh lord was it thick. The girth of it enough to stretch you wide open and have you squirming in her lap to adjust, letting out pathetic whimpers as you’ve never felt so stretched open before.

“M-Master…” you gasp, the breath knocked out of your lungs as you feel Arlecchino’s teeth graze your neck. “Too big…”

“What?” Arlecchino practically laughs sadistically in your face, X-shaped pupils almost glowing with amusement. “Didn’t you say you could take it all? That it wasn’t too big?”

You whimpered when you were reminded of your confident words.

“It’s not too big, babydoll. You said it yourself.” A sudden shift in her tone had you fearful for a moment as you suddenly felt a sharp thrust pulsate against your inner walls.

“Ah—!” You start to let out breathless pants and gasps when Arlecchino begins to thrust madly.

“You were so confident earlier, what happened to wanting to take it all immediately?” She mocks, grinning with pleasure as you writhe in her grip. If there was one thing you learned while working under Arlecchino, it was that the woman was a lot stronger than she looked under that lean muscle. Practically pinning you down until you couldn’t move, before making you bounce up and down her lap till the tip of her cock was all you could feel.

“Don’t tell me my doll is defying orders now.” Arlecchino growls, slamming you back down until your pussy practically wraps itself around her length, gripping it for all that it was worth, while you lolled your head back in absolute bliss. “N-Nngh…master…” you moaned out pathetically, the stretch burning you wonderfully while you cling to Arlecchino for sanity. “Slower…please…”

Arlecchino scoffs at that and gives your rear a tiny spank, laughing at the way you recoiled in surprise.

“Slower? You want me to go slower?” She was mocking you again, the sadism evident in her voice. “Babydoll, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

She spanks your read once more and bites your neck rather aggressively, a dark hickey beginning to form at the base while she continues ramming her girth into your cunt. The way you were holding onto her so tightly —and pathetically— gave Arlecchino a power strike of ecstasy, the woman animalistic with her ruts as she digs her claws even further against your ass.

“You’re dripping so much, my sweet girl,” she groans into your throat, “Such a mess, I’ll need you to clean everything up for me later, right?”

She sneers at the way you whine at her words before shaking your head in obedience.

“Yes, master!”

“Good fucking girl.”

She suddenly lifts you up and places you on her desk, the bright blue monitors illuminating your body like a heavenly light while Arlecchino thrusts more brutally into your flesh. Rough hands prying your legs further apart as she pushes you down to deliver a passionate kiss. With one final push, you feel your body twitch before a squeal leaves your lips and cum drips down your thighs, your climax reaching a beautiful finale, as the monitor above you plays the sound of the man screaming to death in his room. The trap had closed around his head and ensnared his head in a casket of spikes, leaving him to bleed out in the tiled room of door 14.

“Hah…hah…looks like he didn’t make it.” Arlecchino pants, grinning all too wildly before kissing your neck affectionately. “Good girl. I knew I could count on you…”

As she nuzzles your neck with her face, you hear the door behind her suddenly creak open before gentle humming fills the room. Arlecchino turns back to see who had entered, before smiling at the sight of the other person.

“My, my, I see you’ve had your fun with her already.” Came a familiar, feminine voice. You looked up to see a shorter woman wearing a pig mask shutting the door, lithe hands reaching up to pull off the atrocious mask, and revealing a petite, yet beautiful woman you recognized as Columbina. One of Arlecchino’s most dutiful proxies.

“Goodness, she’s certainly soaked your pants, Arlecchino.” Columbina tuts with faux astonishment. “I can’t believe you two started without me.”

“You were taking too long,” Arlecchino chuckles back, caressing your cheek with a clawed nail. “You should’ve been faster.”

“Ah, I was too busy setting up the victims for the next few games,” the pigheaded woman sighs, strutting over to pinch your cheek playfully. “Looks like this little one will have to make it up to me now…”

You instinctively melted under Columbina’s touch, nuzzling your face into the soft, sweet palm of her hand. She cooes affectionately at the sight, before giving your head a little puppy-like pat. “Good girl…”

“She is, isn’t she?” Arlecchino grins, picking you up once more to sit on her lap while she rests on her chair. “I think this sweet thing can spare us one more round. For Columbina’s sake, right?” She lifts your chin with a finger, staring at you as if almost daring you to say no.

“Of course, master…” you say obediently, arousal starting to drip down your thighs once more at the possibility of a threesome.

“Atta girl…” Columbina giggles, pressing up behind you and kissing the back of your ear. “Just the perfect doll for us to share…”

You only bucked back your hips at that, ready to give whatever these two women wanted from you.

#arlecchino smut #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #slasher au #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin women smut #genshin women x reader #genshin imagines

1K notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 4 months

Text

what now?

character: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

notes: eeeee happy birthday dabi!!! sorry i’m a day late, and sorry i keep writing angst for your birthday. this piece is set directly after dabi’s touya reveal, in that dingy little safe house he seems to love so much! please heed the warnings below and stay safe!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, rough sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dom/sub dynamics, use of master/owner/sir, fem!reader, minimal prep, biting, branding, blood, the piece switches between both dabi and touya as names, size kink + size difference, spanking, objectification, degradation + dumbification, a lil bit of praise, dabi’s pretty mean when he’s fucking, dabi carries reader, toxic relationship, dacryphilia, choking

words: 8.8k

It’s dark by the time he returns, reeking of charred flesh and ash. He had stashed you away in a decaying little safe house—a place no one else knew about, a place that was his and his alone—and had told you to wait for him. He had promised he’d return to you, no matter how long it took, no matter what happened, he’d be back, pinky swear.

Touya never breaks his pinky swears. Dabi might, though.

You had seen his video. You had been watching the news just like he told you to, anxious, waiting for any sign or indication of trouble, of terror, but the heat and the dust had been too much for the news cameras to penetrate, and there had been no reports of casualties on either side.

Yet.

It’s astonishing to think that the whole world knows his name now—his true name, the one buried in his blood and his bones, the one staining his soul, the one he can’t snuff out, no matter how hard he tries. You remember the first time he told it to you.

“Touya.”

He had said suddenly, randomly, while laying in bed with you one night back at the League’s hideout—back before all of this was set in motion, back when there was just the gentle clink of glass sounding beneath the floorboards, followed by a muddled curse and the rapid mashing of plastic buttons.

It was muttered out in the dead of the night, when the wind was stagnant and the moonlight shimmered through grimy windows, brilliance of the beams diffused by the dirt, turning everything a hazy silver, glinting off his stitches.

“Hmm?”

“That’s my real name. Touya.”

“Touya,” you had murmured to yourself, rolling the letters around on your tongue, allowing them to seep into your flesh. “It’s beautiful.”

“Todoroki Touya.”

Oh.

“It’s still beautiful,” you said softly, after several moments of silence, feeling Dabi melt beneath your words, tender yet resolute. “Even if the man who gave it to you isn’t.”

“Yeah,” he had responded, though his voice had sounded weird to his ears; odd, off, broken. “Fuck that guy.”

And that had been it. You hadn’t made a big deal about it, or pushed him to tell you more, or badgered him with questions and curiosities about his past. You had just accepted it and continued on.

He had offered up shards of information over the next few months, always murmured out in the dead of night, always a piece and never a whole, always something too jagged to fit with any of the other pieces of his jigsaw he had gifted you.

But it didn’t matter. Who he was, his past, the name he carries around and DNA twined inside his body—none of it mattered. He was, and will always be, the man you love, irregardless of the name he was born into, and the curse it bears.

The harsh unlatching of that decrepit painting startles you from your stewing thoughts, your gaze snapping toward the noise just in time to catch Dabi crawling through the trick window, entrance hidden behind the heavy gilded frame.

Your legs toss themselves off the fraying couch the instant his gaze meets yours, heart kickstarting thick bouts of adrenaline to rush through your veins, footsteps keeping time with the tattered exhales each bang of your heart sends barrelling up your throat, body colliding into his only a moment later.

He catches you with ease, laughing loudly as he sweeps you from the floor, strong arms locked at the wrists around your lower back. Instinctively, your ankles hook together at the base of his spine, fingers immediately wandering into the dirty hair at the nape of his neck, whole body wound around his own.

He’s still laughing, bright and breathless and so, so beautiful, even as he crushes his lips to yours, even as your tongue pries past his teeth and slams against his own. It spills down your throat in warm vibrations and you swallow it readily, greedily, hands sinking further into tufts of ink-tinged ivory and twining the strands around your knuckles, desperate to tug him closer.

The tang of death stings your tongue, earth and copper and smoke, so poignant you swear you can taste their screams, those who lost their lives to his flames and Machia’s feet and the rubble left in their wake, but you don’t care.

You don’t care, because he’s here, he’s home, he’s safe and back in your arms, with his teeth clacking against yours and his spit flooding your mouth and his unruly little giggles consistently breaking the flow of your lips.

“Did you see it? Huh? Did you see it?” he hurls the words into your mouth, lips still mashed against your own but spread in a smile, sapphire eyes twinkling.

“I did,” you confirm with a nod, tips of your noses nudging. “I did, it was brilliant; you were brilliant, baby.”

“I know,” he snickers, foreheads knocking together, breath wafting in small, ragged pants across your face as his feet begin to move, unable to stand still. “It couldn’t have gone more perfect, I swear to fuckin’ Christ. It was—It was better than I could’ve ever imagined. I can’t even believe it.”

Words continue to tumble from his lips in excited gasps as he twirls in wide lopsided circles slow and careless around the decaying little safe house, his boots conjuring small puffs of dust beneath their soles.

“I wish you could’ve been there, baby, honest. I wish you could’ve seen that fucker’s face, it was fuckin’ priceless, and—Oh! Fuck, how could I forget the best part!”

Halting his whirling, he pulls back to look at you more resolutely, as if he has to see the whole picture, sapphire darting around your face all wild and erratic, his smile spreading impossibly wider; uncanny, inhuman, eyes glowing with the thrill of the secret he’s about to spill.

“Shouto was there, too! How much happier could a coincidence get!”

“Shouto?”

“I wasn’t expecting him to be there, but seriously, it was the cherry on top.”

His feet begin to move again, resuming his impromptu dance number, adrenaline thrumming in his veins, overflowing from his orifices—smile stretching, chest swelling.

“His presence is what really made it spectacular, you know? Sure, dad was broken, but Shouto…” Dabi shakes his head. “Little baby Shouto was knocked off his fucking feet.”

“Oh, I can only imagine…”

…How horrifying of a realization it must’ve been; how terrifying it must’ve felt to encounter your father’s worst mistake in the breathing, bloodied flesh.

“I doubt he even remembers me—” Dabi continues, “he was only five or so when I died; he barely knew me at all.” He laughs, but it sounds tangled, caught on something buried in his throat. “Imagine that! Your big brother, only ever a ghost haunting your life, back from the grave!”

“I’m sure he was very shocked,” you giggle, pressing your forehead to his again, fingers combing through the hair at the back of his skull.

“Shocked? Baby, he was beyond shocked. He was—He was—I don’t even have a word for it!”

Another laugh spills from his lips, jagged and squeaky and full of razors.

And, oh, how breathtakingly beautiful genuine happiness looks on him, even if it’s tinted with derangement—the edges of his smile a little too sharp, the glint in his eye a little too vicious.

“The whole thing sounds magnificent,” you admit, soft and genuine, lips brushing his own. “I’m so happy it went so well.”

“It was perfect,” he gushes in a sigh. “The only way it could’ve been any more perfect is if mom, Yumi, and Natsu were there—but I’m sure they all caught the broadcast.”

You’re sure they did, too. That news programme had been playing on every major screen across the entirety of Japan; you’d have to be buried beneath a rock to have missed it.

He’s still babbling, feet still hopping and skipping around with you cradled tightly to his chest as the anticipation of his return finally wears off, clears from your system, and you take a real, good look at him.

And your heart sinks.

New burns have bubbled up on his cheeks, leaving only a sliver of skin between them and the scars below his eyes. Staples have snapped in half, hanging precariously from chunks of dead flayed flesh, their broken edges tinged an ugly black, burnt by Todoroki flames. Speckles of crimson are splattered artfully across his hair—though whether they belong to him or someone else, it’s hard to tell—the small remaining patches of healthy skin marred by dried black dye.

“Baby,” you breathe, struggling to keep your smile from trembling, struggling to keep concern from seeping into your voice. “You’re filthy.”

“Yeah, you should’a saw the other guy!” he giggles at his own joke, strident and sticky in his throat, but his smile is still so bright.

“And you’re hurt.”

He blows a dismissive breath from between his lips. “Can barely feel a thing, though—and I’m not even rolling right now!”

“Still,” you say, a frown beginning to weight the corners of your grin. “You should let me clean you up.”

“But it isn’t even painful.”

“Still,” you repeat, tender fingers brushing strands of white back from his forehead. “I want to clean you up.”

Begrudgingly, he allows it, sat on the closed toilet lid and continuing to chatter on as you tend to his wounds, words bubbling up on breathless excitement, massive smile still slapped, almost uncomfortably so, across his face.

Oxygen keeps escaping him before he finishes his sentences, everything bouncy and enthusiastic, and it’s such a stark contrast to the Dabi you’re used to, with his languid apathetic drawl and unhurried, uninterested speech.

And despite the subject matter, it’s nice, it’s cute.

He tells you about his father’s paralyzation and the tears in Shouto’s eyes and the horrified panic coating their faces as careful fingers dab and wipe and smear, meticulous in their task, devoted to their cause, your head nodding along with his endless recounter, emitting the perfectly placed ooh’s and mhmm’s, asking questions when the opportunities present themselves.

And even though you love seeing him this way, full of pure joy and exhilaration, you can’t quite kill the question sprouting in the depths of your mind, chewing on the back of your brain.

What now?

It’s on the tip of your tongue, searing your tastebuds, begging to be spoken. You try to swallow it down, but it claws at the back of your tongue, clinging, curling up in your throat and refusing to be forgotten.

What now? What’s going to happen now that Enji knows of his existence? What’s going to happen the next time he encounters his eldest child, swathed in the flames he once cherished so dearly, praised so hopefully, eating away at his boy as his hatred burns higher, blazes brighter, consumes his blood and flesh and bones and hopefully swallows down the monster that bred him in the process?

Will there even be anything left at all? Of either of them?

Does Dabi even care? Does Touya?

You know he’s still in there, despite the fact that his heart’s been corroded by the bitterness that’s been festering inside of him for eleven years—you’ve seen him.

You’ve seen him, trailing along with Toga, causticity eating at his teeth as he spits that she’s fucking stupid, this is so fucking stupid, but allowing himself to be led anyway, zero resistance as her tiny hands tug him along behind her bouncing form, feet following willingly.

You’ve seen him, meticulously picking through the glass bowls at the League’s small Halloween get together, checking and then double checking that everyone’s favourite candy is there, growling that he really doesn’t give a fuck, actually, he’s just looking for his own all the while, despite the fact that his fingers have skipped over that particular chocolate bar several times.

You’ve seen him, on those nights where Tomura just can’t get to sleep, sprawled out on the couch in the early hours of the morning, dirty boots an inch from Tomura’s crossed legs, staring blankly at his phone and waving Kurogiri off with a go to bed already, old man.

So what now?

“He tried to cool me down.”

The sudden switch to a quiet, monotonous voice snaps you from your tangle of thoughts, eyes refocusing on Dabi’s face, realizing you’ve rubbed a streak of his cheek near raw.

“What?”

“Shouto. He tried to cool me down. With his ice.” A pause, a drop of blood, balancing precariously on his lash line. “Like…Like how mom used to.”

His Adams apple bobs with the heft of a thick swallow, his eyes blank and unblinking, staring at your shoulder.

The blood in your veins runs frigid, hand held rigid and hovering over his wounds.

“During the fight?”

His gaze stays fixed on that spot as he nods, slowly, just once.

“I was overheating, and he…”

Another beat of silence passes, the sound of your own breathing echoing in your ears, harsh and fast with the rapid beating of your heart. The blood collecting along his lashes finally overflows, escaping their confines to pool in the crinkles of dead skin and coat gold in crimson.

“Hey,” you murmur, so gentle, so soft it inspires a second wave of blood, dainty hands cupping his jaw and tilting his face to yours.

Thumbs swipe through the thick streams of scarlet trickling down his cheeks, smearing bright strokes across healthy skin. His eyes, red and glazed but tearless, hold yours for a moment, his nostrils twitching twice.

Beneath your palms, the hinges of his jaw flex with another dense swallow, warped smile wobbling a little.

“Whatever,” he says, voice less than an octave off from normal. “Doesn’t matter, not important.”

It does, you want to say. It is, you want to insist—

“All I want to do now is celebrate the best day of my life with the love of my life.”

Saliva pools beneath your tongue, the threat of tears thick in your throat.

“Touya…” your eyes search his face, worry woven into the wrinkles between your furrowed brow. “It—”

“Please,” he whispers, so quiet it’s barely more than a wisp of air, his eyes closing briefly for a moment as he gathers himself, lids lifting a second later. “Let me have this.”

You want to, you so desperately want to—want to allow him this space to be happy, unfiltered and unadulterated, even in all of it’s unhinged, brainsick fervour. You don’t want to ruin this for him, the self-proclaimed Best Day of His Life, but…

What now?

It’s nipping at your lips, leaving them tingling and twitching, but you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and suck, melting the question in the smothering heat.

Now is not the time to ask. You will save this question, will fold it into a neat little shape and stash it away in your stomach, where it will rage and roar and demand to be spoken, where you will shove it down and stomp it into submission until it is time to be released.

You refuse to steal this moment from him.

“Okay,” you finally murmur, stroking his blood-slicked cheeks. “Okay.”

It’s hard to ignore the concern scraping at the walls of your skull, to disregard the talons tearing at your heart, to snuff out the flames licking at your lungs, but you’ll do it for him.

Always for him.

And for the first time tonight, his smile softens, sharp edges gone melty with love.

Large hands, hardened by blue fire and the ends of Marlboros, skim up your bare thighs, the callouses adorning his palms scraping roughly against sensitive skin, inspiring trails of chills in their wake. The hem of your dress pools around his wrists as his touch climbs higher, filthy fingers, with dirt caked beneath their nails and grime lining their cuticles, wiggling their way beneath a frilly pink waistband, curling almost protectively around your hips, tips digging into supple flesh just shy of too hard.

“A perfect day deserves a perfect end, don’t you think?”

The question drips from his lips in a sultry murmur, stare heavily lidded as he tugs you down into his lap, a leering smirk smeared across his face.

“Oh, yeah?” your arms wind around his neck, nose bumping against his own. “And what’s that?”

“Stuffing my favourite girl full of my cum.”

Lips trace along the edge of your jaw as he speaks, words leaving sloppy strokes of saliva as his mouth moves against you skin.

“Over,” kiss, “And over,” kiss, “And over again, until it’s leaking out of her pretty little pussy, all over her pretty thighs, all over my pretty cock.”

“I think that—ah—I think that’s a great way to end the day.”

“Mm,” he hums, painting a flat, wide stroke of saliva up the column of your neck, the tip of his tongue tracing your cupids bow, nose bumping against your own. “It’s my favourite way to end the day.”

His lips press to yours, tongues finding each other instantly, dragging across one another in crude, sloppy caresses, heavy and slow and firm as they grind, massaging together in little circles. It’s almost as if you’re trying to soak up his taste, to permanently imbue your tastebuds with it, to keep a little reminder of him—a single piece—with you forever.

It’s messy, thick drool oozing from the seams of your conjoined mouths, but you don’t care, licking excess saliva from the corners of his mouth, sucking the dribble steadily collecting on his bottom lip, lapping up the foamy spit coating his chin staples, leaving them gleaming with you.

Lips clash again, teeth gnawing their way into the warm, wet heat of mouths, desperate to devour any part of each another you possibly can, sucking gasps and mewls and laughs from one throat into another, inhaling shards of your souls and swallowing them down, burying them in pits of stomachs and depths of guts—keepsakes, kept safe.

You can taste his blood in your mouth, salty with the tears that can’t fall, trickling from the edges of his eyes. Unfurling from your mouth, the tip of your tongue licks a thin strip up his ragged cheeks, over dead skin and warm bumpy metal, sopping up crimson sadness and consuming it.

You hold it for him, extract it from him, bear it with him, letting it soak into your heart where it can stay, for as long as he needs it to.

But that isn’t enough for him, because he wants something in return; he wants your blood, too.

Sharp teeth sink into your bottom lip, sucked taut and pressed tight to his tongue, a muted chuckle vibrating in his chest at your responding yelp. The strong hinges of his jaw flex, burrowing ivory deep, deep, deeper into your flesh, until the barrier snaps and copper explodes on his tongue, sticky and potent and so, so much.

He refuses to release you, ribs rattling with a growl when you try in vain to tug your lip free from its captors, a sob hitching in your throat, followed by a wheezy whine.

“Stay put, goddamn it,” he mumbles the words through his occupied teeth, tongue stroking your lip in the process. “M’not finished.”

Your squirming stops almost instantly, body deflating into his own, and he huffs out a snort, hot against your face.

The grip of his teeth loosens marginally, the tip of his tongue laving over the steadily weeping wound in firm, thorough strokes, tracing every indent his teeth left behind, dips rapidly swelling and filling with watered down blood, a mold of six teeth carved into your flesh.

The strength of his suction increases, siphoning fresh blood from the tiny gashes, and he moans a little, eyes rolling back in his skull as fluttery lashes frame the whites, his hips twitching up.

Sicko.

His cock is already hard, rutting into your core in irregular little movements, the lace of your panties so delicate you swear you can feel it throbbing, his motions molding the dainty fabric to your soaking folds with every slight jerk upward.

Slim fingers flex, grip on your hips tightening and further burying his nails in your flesh as he forces you to begin rocking in his lap, grinding down to meet each roll up.

His lips have left your own again, his mouth streaked with your blood, a pretty pink shimmer glazing the bottom half of his face. Blood is still trickling from the six tiny slashes his teeth left, overflowing from the seam of your mouth and flowing down your chin in unbroken streams.

Swiping a thumb through the thin floods, he smears sticky crimson across your skin, collecting a healthy swap of the substance on the pad of his finger—so much so it begins dripping down the curve to settle in the lines of his knuckle and his palm.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, repeating the action, painting you in messy shades of yourself. “Just beautiful.”

A whimper slips through your lips, eager tongue catching his thumb and curling around the appendage—protective, possessive—drawing it into the heat of your mouth.

He lets you guide him willingly, watches with lust-blown pupils as your lips pucker around the second knuckle, slick tongue cradling his thumb as it sucks it to the roof of your mouth, pools of saliva washing your blood from his skin.

His breath is coming out in hot, hard huffs, exhaled through parted lips as your mouth tightens, swallows his thumb down further. His pupils pulse, gnawing away at his irises as they try to devour you whole, blue so thin it’s scarcely an outline tracing gaping orbs of black.

Your hips are still gyrating against his in erratic little circles, a single palm still clasped around your waist guiding you, encouraging you as he bucks in response, straining cock rubbing along your cunt.

It’s just barely catching your clit, nothing more than teasing little grazes, dense heat simmering in the pit of your tummy.

You need more.

“Dabi,” you whine a little, wriggling in his grasp, a desperate attempt to garner more friction.

“Uh-huh?”

“Touya.”

“Yeah, baby,” he answers, the nonchalance in his tone contradicting the mischief glinting in his eye. “What is it?”

Chrome chips your nails as you claw at the heavy buckle of his belt, leather squeaking against metal. His free hand captures your wrists easily, holding them together in one palm, hard enough that the bones grind together.

“You want something? Huh?”

Brows knitting, you glare at him, bottom lip quivering a little, fighting the urge to jut into a full-blown pout, fighting the urge to spit out what do you think?

“You know.”

He does, of course he does.

But that doesn’t mean he’s just going to give it to you.

“C’mon, I wanna hear you say it,” he purrs as your chin puckers, your whole face scrunched up in a scowl. “C’mon, baby, c’mon, be a good little girl and ask for it.”

Sapphire scathes your skin, almost as bright and burning as his flames, his unadulterated attention nearly too much to bear, confidence and brattiness withering beneath his scorching stare.

Lashes fluttering, your eyes flee his, tears forming to shield you from his heat, shoulders caving inward in an attempt to protect you from his unyielding scrutiny.

“W-Want your cock.”

His tongue clicks in disapproval, a mocking frown slapped across his face barely suppressing his amusement, eyes shining, power flaring.

“That’s not asking, sweetheart.”

Swallowing thickly, you force your gaze to his, lids squinting a little beneath his brilliance.

“Can I please have your cock? Please?”

“Please what?”

And although he’s acting unaffected, he can’t quite quell the spasming of his hips, jerking up in minuscule movements and grinding his cock into your sopping hole, panties clinging uncomfortably to your folds.

An eyebrow raises, a question of Well? I’m waiting… imbued in the subtle action.

He isn’t going to give it to you unless you ask properly, like a good little girl is supposed to.

As expected.

“Please, Master,” you mewl, fingers curling over the edges of his belt and tugging, sharp leather biting into soft hands. “Please, please, let me ride your cock, Sir.”

Cavernous eyes observe you for a moment, scanning for dishonesty, grin growing when a whine vibrates in your throat, low and needy.

“Please?” you whimper, the leather of his belt creasing beneath your grip, squealing as it rubs together, a plead hitching in your chest. “Pl—Please, Sir.”

“Alright, alright,” he’s pacifying, acting as if he’s doing you some sort of favour, as if his cock isn’t jumping eagerly with each drool of pre-cum leaking from its slit. “Go on, then. Get it out.”

Words of thanks are pouring from your lips as your hands hastily undo his pants, yanking at the buckle, tugging at the zipper, shoving at the waistband, messy and urgent until his cock is finally released.

The stretch is nothing short of incredible, as it always is with him, little hole trembling as it swallows around his girth, drawing him in further and further, deeper and deeper, slow and steady until the head nudges your cervix, his hips twitching up twice, ensuring he’s hit the end, buried to the hilt with nowhere else to go, completely stuffing your cunt full.

And despite the trademark ache, delicate flesh stinging as it splits into little fissures to accommodate him, your hips begin moving immediately, starved and raring, whimpering a little into his shoulder as you cling to him, every rotation of your hips radiating pricks of pain through your gut.

“God, you’re pathetic,” he snorts, but the insult is soft, edges dulled by love. “So fucking desperate for my cock, aren’t you?”

“Can’t help it,” you murmur, rubbing your cheek along the curve of his neck, then his jaw, streaking your face with his sweat. “Missed you so much.”

“I know, baby,” the tip of his tongue swipes through the blood still staining your chin. “Bet you missed my cock just as much, if not more.”

“Yes, yes, Sir,” you’re nodding in messy little motions, hips still rocking languidly against his own, clit gliding against his slick pubic bone in rhythmic strokes. “I did, I missed it s’much—”

A gasp slices through your slurred words, sharp air shoved from your chest as his hips begin snapping upward, rough and ruthless and without warning, the hands grasping your hips tightening around your flesh as he forces you to stay in place.

“Of course you did,” he grunts out, as if it’s preposterous to think otherwise. “I’m not at all surprised; my sweet lil slut can’t live without my cock, can she?”

“Never, never, ne-never,” you babble out in confirmation, words stuttered harshly with the piston of his hips.

Another laugh spills from his lips, airy and malicious in melody.

“No, never,” he rasps, ever-so-slightly breathless with the effort, dewdrops of sweat beginning to adorn his hairline. “Fuck, how would you ever get off without me, huh?”

The question sends a pang searing through your heart, echoing a question you’ve been asking yourself often as of late—how would you ever survive without him?

The thought stings your eyes, thick tears rushing to cloud your vision and rendering him nothing more than a watery blur of ivory and violet.

“I—I wouldn’t, Sir, I wouldn’t!” you cry out, rapid fluttering of your lids dislodging teardrops, streaming down your cheeks in glistening pairs. “I n-need you, I need you, always, always, al-always!”

Your fingers curl against his shoulders, nails catching on staples, a hiss spit from the gaps of his teeth. They sink into grafted skin, dead and weathered and dusted in ash, and cling, knuckles locked and stiff as you try to pull yourself impossibly closer to him.

Gnarled flesh collects beneath the edges of your nails as your grip strengthens, chewing on his body and gathering it in your grasp, consuming whatever tiny slivers you can, a silent plead to stay.

“It’s okay, precious,” he hushes you, lips pushed into a mocking pout, contradicted by the smothering affection exuding from his eyes. “M’here, m’not going anywhere.”

God, you hope not.

“Please, please—”

And you drown yourself in it, drown yourself in him; his taste, spicy hickory and warm smoke, exhaled onto your hungry tongue, soaked up and swallowed down; his gaze, overflowing with adoration and intense attention, tying itself in a thick braided noose around your neck and tightening; his touch, stamping his prints into your flesh in blotchy bursts of blue, singeing his name with licks of sapphire that welt and wound, that crust and crater and scar.

Your ribs squeeze, sucked inward by the voracious black hole your heart has morphed into—never sated, never filled, always vying for more—whole body curling beneath the strain.

But he’s right there to hold you, to steady you, to keep you intact, his hands the stitches you need to keep from unraveling.

“I know, I know,” he’s cooing as you choke on sobs, still scraping weakly at his back, “your Master’s gonna give you what you need.”

Slim fingers flex, soot-stuffed nails latching onto your flesh like tiny leeches, dug in nice and deep, using his grasp as leverage to control the speed and angle of your hips.

Your feet skid against the chipped bathroom tile, the muscles in your legs tensing as you attempt to find stable purchase on the floor trying to aid in his movements, to fuck yourself on him.

It’s no use, though—it’s not like it matters, anyway, not when Dabi’s got complete domination over your body, over all of its movements and positions, manhandling you into whatever arrangement he pleases, reduced to nothing more than his favourite little plaything.

“It’s real cute,” he’s telling you in that sugared condescension you’ve come to love so much, “that you’re trying so hard to help me.”

A whine escapes your lips, caught somewhere between apologetic and petulant, hips stammering as they begin to slow, and he laughs.

“Aw, no, don’t stop,” his tongue clicks against his teeth. “Keep trying, it’s so precious.”

And although his tone is taunting, full of characteristic derisive glee, his eyes are encouraging, begging you to keep going, for him.

And so, you do, desperate to please him, the muscles in your thighs beginning to burn as you work in vain to pathetically hump away at him, hips knocking together irregularly as your footing continues to slip.

It doesn’t do much to assist him, but he’s happy anyway, a certain type of pride saturating his features, dulling the points of his wide smile, dimming the harsh brilliance in his eyes, turning his face into something a little softer, something a little sweeter.

Dabi keeps an iron grip on the pace—not that you’d ever expect anything different—forcing you to ride him hard and fast, bouncing you on his cock as his hips buck up in expert rhythm, completing your movements every time. The head drags over that engorged spot with each pound into you, sending a judder of scorching sparks to rush through your blood, each bout more intense than the last.

“God, look at you, you’re such a little slut for me, huh?” he pants out, rapacious eyes sweeping across your face, keen to soak up your expression. “Taking my cock like you were fuckin’ made for it.”

He’s really fucking into you now, jerking you on his cock like a toy, because you are—something that’s his to use whenever, wherever, and however he sees fit, something that’s his to own, to care for and splinter to bits and painstakingly piece back together, over and over and over again.

Tears of ecstasy are pouring from your eyes, cascading down your face in twin streams, excess dewdrops embedded in spiked lashes glittering with every rough pump of his hips.

It all hurts—always does, with Dabi, incapable of treating anything with any degree of gentleness; not a flaw, just a fact, oblivious to his own strength—but the pain only works to elevate the pleasure, pushing it higher and higher and higher until it’s choking you, smothering your lungs and stuffing your throat and spilling out your mouth in the form of messy, stringy sobs.

“S’been so long, Sir, so long,” you weep, nails burrowing further into his body, almost as if they’re desperate to reach his core—to pry past his ribs and claw into his heart and curl up in his soul.

Because it has been so long, too long, most of Dabi’s attention soaked up by Paranormal Liberation duties and his own extensive planning as Shigaraki’s due date drew closer and closer, any scraps of time thrown your way whenever he had a spare moment to sneak off to this dilapidated safe house where he’d stashed you away, his visits sporadic and unpredictable.

“You’re right,” he says, and there’s a tinge of melancholy to his breath. “It’s been way too long since your sweet cunt has been filled with your Owner’s cock, hasn’t it?”

“It has, it has,” you’re nodding sloppily, tongue tangled in threads of spit.

“My poor lil pussy,” he pouts, and it’s so derisive. “Must be starving, it hasn’t been stuffed nice and full with my cum in forever.”

“No, no, no,” you’re chanting in agreement, “feels so empty without you, Sir, feels s-so wrong.”

“Aw, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he crudely laps at the steady stream of tears, vicious bouncing causing his teeth to nick your cheek. “I’m gonna change that.”

Chapped lips find your ear, slicked with saliva, his voice dropping an octave as he continues.

“Because tonight,” he breathes, sweltering against your ear, his tongue darting from between wet lips to trace along the curve. “I am going to stuff you so full of my cum that—ah, fu-fuck—that it’s going to flood your cute lil tummy, that it’s gonna seep into your organs, into your fucking blood, that it’s gonna be leaking out all over the fucking place.”

“Oh, oh, please, Sir, please!”

The pleads come out as a single string, melded together with drool and garbled on your tongue. Little jolts of fire shoot through your body with the constant ramming of his hips, flames licking at your veins as they sear through them, the sharp slap of your ass against his thighs complementing his harsh pants and your broken moans.

“Yeah, I know, my little cumslut wants that so badly, doesn’t she?”

Your brain struggles to stitch together a sentence longer than his name, your mind gone delirious for his seed—and it’s an aching, it’s an addiction, sick and depraved and downright uncontrollable—little uh-huh!’s mercilessly fucked from your throat, head bobbling along with the affirmations.

You can feel it, a taut pleasure building within your body, a fluttering that furls into a tight ball of sapphire flame in the pit of your belly, pulsing a little faster, a little harder, a little more with every drive of his cock.

“Oh, Touya, Tou—Touya!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, say my name.”

A growl rattles against his ribs, whole chest vibrating with the force of it, and his head dips down, slick tongue painting strokes of thick, shimmering saliva across your skin, an artist priming his favourite canvas.

“C’mon, tell me who’s making you feel this good—” and although it’s supposed to be a command, it comes out as a plead, voice tapering off into a low whine, muffled against your shoulder. “Tell me, tell me.”

“You, Touya,” you choke out, the name mangling itself in your throat. “You, you, you!”

“You’re goddamn right, it’s me.”

Sharp teeth bury themselves in your flesh, mouth clamped over the junction of your neck, harder and harder and harder until the barrier of your skin finally splits, syrupy copper erupting on his tongue.

His name shatters on your lips, a dark chuckle soaking into the wound when you arch your neck, stretched and strained and offering him more room to work despite the squeal of pain sticking in your throat

It’s all so much, too much, his teeth in your flesh and his cock filling your cunt and—and—!

“Gonna—gonna—!”

A large palm collides with your ass, sick slap echoing off the cracked walls.

“Is that any way to ask your Master for permission?” Dabi spits, voice dripping with disappointment. “God,” he huffs out a laugh, incredulous, but the mirth shining in his eyes is so bright, so blazing it almost hurts to look at. “My cock must’ve really made you go fucking stupid, huh? Don’t you know this body belongs to me?”

Another spank lands against your bottom, a yelp hitching in your chest with the ruthless jackhammer of his hips, his fingers sinking into the burning flesh in a bruising grip, amplifying the sting of the slap, digging it deep into your tissues.

“This body is not allowed to cum unless I say so—so ask nicely, you little bitch.”

“M’sorry!” you cry out, a fresh torrent of tears flooding your eyes. “M’sorry, m’so sorry, Master—”

“Yeah? Yeah?”

His other hand snakes between your heaving, sweat-drenched bodies, thumb and forefinger clamping down on your clit and tweaking, hard enough to force a scream from your tongue, sending spikes of pain rushing through your veins. His fingers flatten against the engorged little nub a moment later, rubbing hard, quick circles into it, a malicious little giggle squeaking in his throat because it’s so swollen, baby and Christ, you must wanna cream all over his cock so badly!

Sounds of affirmation spill uncontrollably from your lips, head nodding in frenetic little motions, whole face shimmering and sticky with salt, snot, sweat.

“Uh-huh? Uh-huh?”

He’s mocking you, chin tilted up in superiority, staring down the bridge of his nose to regard you in patronizing pity, eyebrows raised and imploring you to continue.

“Apologies are not asking, baby,” his grip catches your slippery clit again, twisting it harder this time, your eyes scrunching shut as a cry shatters on your tongue, fingers scrabbling against his shoulders, tearing out staples.

He’s right, you know he is, but he’s making it difficult to speak, difficult to ask, difficult to stitch together a single word at all, let alone a full thought, when he’s playing with your clit like that, alternating between pulsing pinches and gentle caresses, the calloused pads of his fingertips providing just the right amount of friction.

Your whole body quivers with the effort of holding your orgasm back, muscles pulled tight and taut with the strain, and he laughs—beautiful, breathless, bona-fide—cock twitching inside of you.

“Pl—Please, Sir,” you manage to gasp out, entreatment forced from your tongue in a single thin breath. “Please, let me cum, please, please, please!”

The pleads melt into one gooey stream as they flow from your lips, slathered in drool and dripping from the corners of your mouth in thick cords.

“Yeah? You want it? You wanna cum all over your Owner’s cock?”

“Yes, yes!” you practically wail, pawing urgently at him. “Please, sir, let me cum, make me cum, I wanna—I wanna—”

“Alright, alright,” Dabi’s pacifying, but his actions don’t slow, hips merciless with their assault on your body. “Go ahead, sweetheart, make a pretty mess on me.”

Never one to disobey a direct order from your Master, you do, almost instantly, entire body convulsing as your cunt pulses around his shaft, gushing so much slick that it floods his thighs and soaks the waistband of his pants.

The constant circles ground into your sensitive clit as you spasm around him only work to heighten the pleasure, brain gone numb with the shocks of ecstasy coursing through your body, another flurry of jolts sent through your veins with every run through the routine, skin rippling with the impact.

He doesn’t stop his assault even after you cum, vehemently refusing to let up even as the clenching of your cunt fades into something faint and erratic, even as violent tremors loop through your veins, entire body quivering in his tight grasp, even as your fingers claw weakly at his wrist, crooking staples and scraping scarred flesh, blood rushing to fill the gouges left by your nails.

No, he doesn’t stop until you’re teetering on the brink of passing out, wandering in and out of consciousness, his name leaving your lips in a near incomprehensible jumble, slurred and heavy with spit.

Only then does he scoop you up in his arms, your legs dangling limply from his elbows as his palms firmly clutch your ass, hard cock still aching and buried deep inside of you, and carry your pliant body to that worn, fraying couch, with the puffs of white cotton leaking through the polyester and the exposed springs groaning beneath your weight.

You barely notice the change in scenery, though, still blissfully fucked out, nerves gnawed raw by his overstimulation, a soft hiss slipping from between your teeth as the scratchy cushion rubs against your bare bottom, a raised imprint of Dabi’s palm and all five fingers still rapidly swelling.

“It’s my turn now, angel,” Dabi’s words drift over your body in an indistinct haze, vision fuzzing at the edges, your head nodding instinctively.

“Gonna—Gonna make good on your promise, Master?”

“I always do, don’t I?”

And then his hips are thrusting, cockhead repeatedly ramming your cervix with every harsh plunge forward, leaning down to catch fresh tears with his lips. The tip of his tongue traces their salty trajectory all the way to your bottom lashes, matted into wet little spikes, before sucking a hickey into your cheek, tiny capillaries bursting beneath his tongue, staining the thin skin with swiftly developing violet.

Tufts of ivory cling to his temples in damp clumps, dried black dye liquifying beneath his heat and running down his cheeks, leaving streaks along the line of his jaw and the curve of his neck. Sweat collects in the dips of his collarbones, shimmering gently in the flickering light spilling from the television set, a wavering news reporter recounting the tragic events of today, stuttered by static.

“God,” he nearly whines, voracious eyes sweeping across your face, desperate to soak up your twisted expression of pleasure-tinged pain—the way your lids keep drooping as you struggle to keep them pried open, eyes speckled with stars, lashes encrusted with tears; the way your tongue keeps lolling out to draw your slick lip back between your teeth, muffling your whimpers and mewls, and oh, no, he can’t have that, a gentle tut of his tongue clicking against his teeth as his thumb tugs it free from your mouth, drawing out a stringy whine in the process.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous when you go dumb from my cock.”

The words leave his lips in an airy gasp, as if he can hardly believe you’re real beneath him, as if he can hardly believe it’s his cock making you look this way, a hand leaving your waist to slide along your torso, taking the hem of your dress with it, rough palm tracing every curve and dip and bulge as it crawls to your collarbone.

He takes his time to admire you—to appreciate the sensation of your skin beneath his touch, fingers gripping, kneading, scraping, gathering palmfuls of you in his grasp before letting go again in a stunned sort of marvel—hips slowing to an uneven rutting, unable to fully halt his fucking.

Keeping a firm, steady grasp on your body and pinning you in place, his free hand continues to roam, hardened fingertips sinking into the pretty blue lace of your bra hard with enough force to elicit a yelp from your lips, amusement tugging at his lips.

“So, so beautiful,” he pants, eyes skimming your now exposed body, his fiery gaze outlining every edge, dedicated in committing every contour to memory. “Fucking look at you.”

In all the time you’ve been with him, your body has become a scrapbook of Dabi. It tells stories of him—what he’s done, how he’s felt, where he’s been, why he did it—stamped permanently into your flesh using his teeth and his tongue and his flames, in raised flesh and puckered craters and glittering scabs.

You can’t tear your stare from his face, though, too busy worshipping him, sapphire eyes gaping and glazed as they travel along your body, soft huffs of breath escaping his lips, pushed from his throat with the tender heaving of his chest, saliva glistening on his lips, smeared so prettily across the staples climbing his chin.

Dainty fingers grope at the air, pathetic and yearning, clawing at nothing, and he laughs a little, nothing more than a smooth, deep vibration at the back of his tongue.

His touch finds the apex of your thighs again, nails dimpling flesh as he spreads your legs wide—so wide your muscles begin to burn, taut beneath the strain—a quiet groan rumbling in his chest as he stares at your stretched cunt.

Two fingers press into your clit, still slick and swollen, grazing over it in slow caresses—back and forth, back and forth, gliding easily over the puffy nub and snorting a little at the way your hole flutters, eager and aching, squeezing his cock, sucking him in, begging for more.

So cute.

Eyes wide and unblinking, he plays with you in a trance, slowly but surely building up pleasure in you, pressure in you, fascinated by the way your body so readily reacts to his simple motions, grinding circles and rubbing strokes and pulsing fingertips.

It enraptures him, puffs of hot air exhaled through slightly parted lips as he watches just his touch bring you to orgasm for the second time tonight, obsessed with the way your cunt trembles around his cock, a surge of your essence streaming from your hole, embracing him in a thick, wet heat.

Your cunt gorges on him—so fuckin’ greedy, even after cumming twice—fluttering a little around the base of his shaft, still oozing so much slick that it’s glazing your ass and his balls, steadily seeping past the tight seam of your hole.

It’s so pretty, it’s so fuckin’ pretty, baby, he’s breathing, eyes hazy with awe, hips drawing back just a little to watch the way your body clings to his girth, sheathing his cock in a shimmering layer of arousal.

A palm wraps around the base of his shaft, the head of his cock still buried an inch or two in your straining cunt, and he jerks himself hard and quick, sick wet slaps echoing out among the room as his hand slams between your cunt and his pelvis.

“Fuck, f-fuck—”

His hips start moving on their own accord, too impatient, his hand nothing compared to the sweltering ecstasy of your cunt, and he releases his cock, sticky hand collaring your throat, pinioning you to the couch, his thrusts so vicious they’re jostling your body up the cushions, the palm crushing your airway keeping you in place.

Lithe fingers flex as their grip on your neck tightens, coarse pads of his fingertips beginning to heat up, blood in your veins bubbling beneath his touch.

Your flesh melts beneath his hold, melds itself to his grasp, desperate to stay in his hands forever.

The sting is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, his palm and all five of his fingers singed into your skin in the prettiest, most precious permanent necklace. You can barely breathe, exhales coming as weak little wheezes, and you swear his flames must be licking into your throat, down to your lungs and straight through your veins, incinerating your blood as your body goes numb, cunt clenching around his cock for the third time, wailing out shards of his name.

But you don’t allow his hold to let up, to loosen at all, both of your hands placed firmly over his, holding it there harder, a loud moan escaping his lips, his hips stammering out of rhythm.

“Brand me, Master, brand me, brand me,” you’re gasping out, voice wrecked and raw. “Make me yours, mark me as yours, forever!”

“Jesus Christ,” he nearly sobs, his thrusts turned brutal, primal, losing any semblance of finesse as he relentlessly fucks you, motions stuttering as he finally cums, a violent shudder coursing through his body before he collapses on top of you, drenched in sweat as his cock throbs, filling you to the brim with hot, thick cum.

“More, Touya, more, more!” you’re crying out, scrabbling at his shoulders as you try to pull him closer, shivering legs latching around his waist as tight as you can manage as your hips roll up to meet his own, crudely humping him. “Gimme more!”

A groan, dense and heavy, spills from his lips, his entire body rippling with hiccups as he ruts into you—automatic, instinctual, desperate to give his sweet girl what she wants, even if it hurts.

“Yeah, yeah, ye-yeah, Touya, Touya, fill me with y’r cum!”

And so, he does, using your cunt to milk himself even as his form quivers with every rock of his hips, chills skidding across his flesh with every bump of his cockhead against your abused cervix.

He keeps going, just like you begged him to, just like he promised he would, until your tummy is stuffed full and your cunt is leaking with his seed, until neither of you can take it anymore, bodies shuddering with every hump and drag and grind, deliquescing into one another, a puddle of limbs.

You stay like that for a while, his body blanketing yours, breathing as one, being as one. Gentle fingertips trail up and down the column of his spine as his bones begin to fuse and harden again, tiptoeing over the trails of staples stitching dead skin to healthy flesh and evoking a mild shudder, pads of your fingers pressing into each golden suture, counting them lovingly, kissing every one.

Eventually, after your fingers have traversed across all thirty-one, he shifts, manhandling you onto his chest as he shuffles himself beneath you, cradled between his thighs.

“What now?”

You don’t mean to say it, don’t mean to shatter that delicate, post-orgasmic, precarious peace with two simple words, but they claw up your throat and pry past your teeth and gnaw on your lips, desperate to be vocalized, immortalized, heard.

What now?

They’re uttered out softly enough, lips moving against his heart, warm breath seeping into his chest, the question worming its way beneath his skin.

His muscles go rigid, his breath stalling in his lungs.

What happens now that his goal has been reached, Part One in his plan succeeded? What’s the next step, now that the world knows Todoroki Touya is alive and simmering in his hatred, fuelled by spite and ravenous with revenge?

What happens when he goes to face his father for the final time? And what happens if he never returns?

“Oh, I dunno,” he sighs out, but his voice trembles. “We could fix this place up, all nice and swanky, have a couple’a kids, get a golden retriever—y’know, real nuclear family type shit.”

You laugh, but it comes out strangled, sounding strange to your ears, a distorted sob.

“The dream, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, quiet, nostalgia for a time that has never happened, that will never come, aching in his words. “The dream.”

A silence settles over the two of you, as tender as the edges of a festering wound.

“I have to do it,” he says after several moments have passed, and his voice is soft—softer than you’ve ever heard it before, softer than you ever thought him capable of—infused with apology.

He does.

You know he does. You understand why. That’s how the story ends, the final chapter he’s been drafting—you were never meant to be a part of this tale, written in between lines and margins, stuffed between words, twined throughout the pages nonetheless. But ultimately, this is his story—to write, to tell, to edit, to revise, to create, to conclude.

You know.

But the acceptance sticks in your throat, furled into a tight, hard lump, so you nod instead, punctuating your affirmative with a kiss pressed to his chest, planted right over his heart. It soaks into his skin, burrows itself into pulsating muscle and finds salvation there, finds home there, a puzzle piece that snaps into perfect place—something that’s always been missing, now complete. Something he’ll take with him, when his pen leaves the page, when his book snaps shut.

You don’t dare look at him. You don’t need to. You can feel the stutter of his chest, hear the hitch of his breath tangling on hard truths to swallow, smell the copper streaming down his cheeks again.

And you hug him tighter.

You know. And no matter how badly you wish to, you won’t stop him.

#dabi smut #dabi x reader #dabi x you #todoroki touya smut #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya x you #dabi angst #bnha smut #bnha x reader #happy belated birthdaaaay dabi i love you so much #eeeeee feel free to let me know what u think!!! i hope u enjoy it!!!

616 notes · View notes

f1gments · 1 year

Text

DEVOTION - Gojo Satoru

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Flushed skin, soft kisses, moments of infatuation, whispers of adoration, crossing oceans, pure unadulterated love and seeking solace in one another with Satoru.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x female reader

word count: 7.4k words

R18, slight manga spoilers (?) making out, smut, nipple licking,oral sex, blowjob, vaginal fingering, missionary, doggystyle, vaginal sex, creampie,teasing & dirty talk, soft gojo, late night sex

a/n: pls don’t expect much from this fic lol. just wanted to update with a gojo fic i had in my neglected wips. enjoy!

If you’re a minor pls don’t interact I beg.

You’ve been having those dreams again.

The same ones where you try to stop Satoru from going to the station in Shibuya. You try to tell him that the person who’s stuck in the body of his best friend isn’t Geto Suguru, but an imposter who knew that he could manipulate Satoru by showing up that night. But it’s too late. The part that constantly appears in your visions is the one where you try to scream out tell him it’s a trap and to stop the person possessing Suguru’s body.

You stir awake and slowly open your eyes just a little to see the moonlight brightening the bedroom. A sense of relief fills you when you realize you’ve just been dreaming again, that you’re in your shared apartment with Satoru again. You let your eyes close once more as you reach out an arm across the bed, searching for warmth. Instead, you’re met with cool sheets beneath your hand, touching the empty spot where he usually sleeps, guessing that he probably hasn’t gone to sleep yet.

You sigh and slip out of bed to look for him. Your soft voice echoes in the hallway of the apartment when you call out his name and when you reach the living room, you see him standing at the balcony, in nothing but dark gray sweatpants.

You’re not sure if he heard you since he doesn’t make any attempt to turn around. You come up behind him, gently touching his back with your fingertips. He starts to turn around but stops as you press yourself into him, hands and forehead resting on his back. Your eyes close shut when you feel his warmth despite how cold it is outside.

Sleep is a foreign concept to a man who barely lets sleep reach him, forever wide-eyed and watching the bright illuminating lights of the city and the few cars that drive on the streets below. It comes with being someone of his position.

“I thought you were sleeping.” he quietly claims, his voice a deep smooth velvet.

“And I thought I was sharing a bed with someone.” you sigh, inhaling his natural scent and the sillage from the cologne that lingers on his skin. Satoru turns to face you and grabs your hand to hold it against his cheek.

He then brings it to his lips, a small smile on his handsome features. He reminds you of the midnight sun that is beyond the horizon. His fingers are much longer than your own, the knuckles curling around your palm, almost swallowing it up whole and you find yourself thinking how uncanny it is that they fit so beautifully together, jigsaw pieces that match perfectly.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask softly.

“You.” he replies simply before he leans down to kiss you deeply, pulling your body closely to his. He leans down, into you and quickly dusts his lips against your own, pretty and light and shooting electricity up your spine. The briefest of touches already makes you both feel utterly dizzy, drunk with exhilaration.

Satoru kisses you like it’s the first and last combined – again and again. His cold fingertips turn warm as they cup your chin and your breath gets taken away in return for soft lips against yours, the gentle scraping of his teeth against your lower lip then the uproar in your gut takes a toll when his forehead meets yours, the same time his arm comes around your waist to pull you closer, as if he’s afraid you’d disappear. If you asked him to describe it, he’d probably say he’s incapable of doing so.

But inside, kissing you feels like he’s a desperately dehydrated man, who discovers water for the first time in weeks and dives into the cool liquid, inhaling it until he feels full. Satisfying a yearning with an immensity that is only completely understood in all of its sensational intensity when he presses his lips to the soft seam of your own.

When the pair of you finally separate, catching your breath, you notice that his eyes are shimmering like an ocean reflecting moonlight, his white hair softly blowing with the gentle breeze. He appears completely dazed with his gently swollen mouth, intoxicated by the way you drew love from his lips with your own, evoked with the flick of your tongue.

You remember your blurry, teared vision struggling to recognize that it was indeed him the day he came home. That it was Satoru. They couldn’t grasp that it was his snowy white hair, now a slicked dark silver from accumulated sweat and drizzle, a few stray strands swooping over his sharp eyes.

A strong, sure hand brushes up your nightgown — nimble fingers bunching it into curls of soft silk and lace while your lips place themselves onto the pulsepoint on his neck. His hands go up to cup your chest where your nipples have slightly gotten hard underneath the blue fabric from his previous actions, making him grin.

The man standing in front of you is Gojo Satoru to the absolute core, for anyone who knows him by his facade. This is the real him. But you have always been one of the special few that knew his labyrinth of a heart. The endless wrong turns and hurdles and traps. His burdens are your burdens but he never seems to think so. You also knew that Satoru had tucked his heart right beside your own and deemed the spaces between your ribs a place for it to call home.

Your body gets pushed onto the cold metal railing of the balcony, but you don’t care in the least. As you drink in everything that Satoru gives you, your tongue slides into his mouth, eliciting a low groan that leaves you shuddering. The hands that grabbed your dress before are now pushing the soft fabric up your thighs. Higher, higher, not high enough.

“Satoru,” you gasp as he impatiently thrusts his weight between your legs.

“Not here.” You shake your head. “Why not?” he murmurs, kissing your neck. You put a hand on his chest to stop him and give him a look. “The neighbors could see us.” A playful smile pulls the corners of his lips up. “And? You say that as we haven’t done it in public before.” You slap a hand over his mouth. “Enough.”

You scoff and push yourself past him to enter the house. “Should’ve stayed in that damn box.” you mumble under your breath, making him chuckle as he follows behind you. You walk to the kitchen to get yourself a drink from the fridge.

Your mind drifts to when Satoru opened up about who he was. Who he really was on the inside. The way he talked about being the strongest was like a heavy burden that sunk ships into the depths of dark oceans, that swallowed light and only provided eons of black oblivion. It seemed to hook into his bones and dragged him down, down, and at the time you wondered, for somebody who must have had the world at his feet with such abilities and power, how he could experience such a feeling, a distaste for the life that he has.

You pour your drink into a cup and turn to look up to see Satoru staring at you with an unreadable expression as he leans against the kitchen counter in the opposite direction.

“What?”

Satoru, eyes still weighted with the pull of desire, gazes at your thighs, the way your dress has hiked itself up to reveal the smooth flesh further when you bend over slightly to place the cup into the sink. His fingertips itching to touch you, especially with the sensual flicker that skirts your gaze when you turn back to face him, though instead, he settles for words.

“Nothing, just admiring how beautiful you are.” he replies, giving you no time to feel embarrassed when he walks over to close the space between you both. You are instantly reminded of how kissing Satoru could never, ever possibly become old and boring.

He brushes a gentle finger down your cheek then cups your jaw with a hand while gripping your hip with another. “I can’t decide on what I want to do with you.”

Impending scenarios race behind your eyes, and all you can do is groan when you open them to look up at him as he towers over your smaller frame. “I know what I want,” you hum with a growing smile and brazen eyes.

“And what is that?” he hums in response, sending you careening into another plane when he brings up one of your hands to his lips and leans down to playfully nip on your index finger.

Your vision focuses for a second to observe his tousled hair, his angular nose, and into bright mischievous eyes, blue of every dancing sky, infinite hues illuminated by newborn light.

“Why waste time talking about it when we can show each other exactly what we think?” you tell him. In seconds, you’re lifted up onto the kitchen counter making you gasp in surprise as when the cold marble touches the back of your thighs.

A warm breath rolls down your face as he chuckles—a low, honeyed sound that took you by surprise the first time you ever heard it—before he murmurs, “I figured you of all people would take any opportunity to speak what’s on your mind.”

You tut before rolling your eyes. “Well, now I do have something on my mind, but you’re certainly not going to—”

Satoru shuts your annoyance up with his lips again. He takes your arched back as an opportunity to slide an arm underneath your waist, kissing you deeper and rendering you thoroughly speechless. His mouth leaves yours only to descend down your jaw, trail down your neck, latch onto your pulse. Enthralled, your legs squeeze his hips. A mewl leaves your lips while your hands frantically skate across his broad shoulders, and when your nails leave tiny red half moons on his bare skin, you feel his cock harden and push further into your center.

Seconds later, you’re being lifted up off the counter and Satoru wastes no time to carry you to your shared bedroom.

Your back hits the mattress as a hand shoves the hem of your nightgown above your waist. Before Satoru moves any further, his lips nick your ear and cause you to elicit a soft moan towards the ceiling. “That’s it,” he whispers, pushing his mouth into your neck hard and making you bite your lip, “You sound so pretty, baby.”

The groan you suppressed comes out in earnest, and your fingers dig into his shoulders at the same time. “I wanna hear you, too,” you admit, earning a low rumble in your ear.

“Thought you didn’t like me being loud.” he teases. You click your tongue in annoyance. “That’s only when you talk too much, now hurry up.”

“So impatient.” Satoru chuckles in amusement. “Open your legs for me.”

The command makes you whine, but when you slowly spread your thighs only for Satoru to shove them wider, a full whimper leaps from your throat. A few light taps on your thigh are what you get before your lover cocks an eyebrow. “You’re not getting shy now are you?” he says with confidence and a bit of suspicion.

“Shut up.”

“I thought you said you wanted me to hurry up.” He says jokingly, until he notices the anxious expression on your face.

Warm, large hands stop to rest on both your thighs. It’s not like you haven’t had sex during the past few weeks, since he returned. But somehow tonight things feel a bit different. You can’t figure out why. During his absence, you never really had the thought to see anyone else. You were too busy with missions and you mostly spent time with just Shoko or got too busy with work. Your days were filled with nothing but constant worry and anxiousness over Satoru being gone.

No one could really replace the feelings you had for Satoru. The both of you had gone through a lot. There were too many precious memories together for you to simply be able to move on to someone else. So you really wanted to take things slow with him, just for tonight. To be able to feel all of him. To make up for all those days and nights you weren’t with him.

“Are you alright?”

“It’s just. I want us to take our time for tonight.” You tell him simply. He immediately understands what you’re telling him and he stands to bend his body over your smaller form between the silken sheets. “I’ll be gentle then,” he murmurs before molding his warm lips onto yours once more.

Each kiss he had given before had been full of passion, but this one is different. He’s being much more gentle compared to before. There is nothing but comfort in his touch, and you can feel any stress drip from your body and tenseness dissolve from your bones. If this is earth, then what is heaven?

Heaven is the gliding of slender fingers under your dress, looping around your lace panties. It is a groan tucked into the dip of your collarbone, a palm fasting itself against wet warmth that elicits ecstasy through your veins, the final shreds of your underwear abandoned to the floor, no longer required, never needed in the first place. It is the touch of his mouth marking fields of lavender and dusty rose across the sensitive skin of your throat. You don’t register the way he has shifted far enough to close your legs together, slipping your panties off with ease, before widening them again.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Satoru kisses down your neck again, but he descends lower, his teeth grazing the slope of your breast before his mouth picks one to kiss over your lacy gown. A warm palm closes over the other, squeezing before pulling the material down, and when your breasts spill over they are enveloped with his tongue and large hands once more. “Satoru,” you gasp, arching your back and digging your elbows into the mattress. One of your hands shoots into his soft platinum locks, and your tug causes his grips on your hip and leg to tighten immediately.

Latching onto a nipple, Satoru gives it a hard suck while twisting the other enough to make you cry out, and you can feel your legs shaking. “Don’t stop.” you cry, gripping his hair tighter.

“God.” Satoru abandons your breasts to the chill of the room as he goes back down between your legs. Your dress is fully bunched around your waist and Satoru spreads your thighs apart, revealing your center like a rosebud in bloom. However, the pause that greets you makes you frown and close them.

“Stop staring like that.” You push his hands away.

He ignores you and pulls your legs apart again. “Quit it,” he hummed, sounding too satisfied for his own good. “Be nice or I’ll change my mind and make you scream instead.”

Teeth nick your thigh, and the dark laugh you hear has you growing wetter than you already are. Satoru brings his face closer to your cunt, inhaling your natural musk.

“You smell so good.”

You don’t know how to respond. But the fingers that slide across your folds tell you that you don’t need to, and you throw your head back in pleasure. The wetness you feel has pooled onto the bedsheets and is now being coated on Satoru’s long fingers, one after the other rubbing your clit in slow, tiny circles and sliding deliciously up and down your slippery folds.

His fingers twitch against your covered slit. They drift across it wide, up and then down, and his mouth is parted in a complete loss for words.

You start to shake in need, but a firm hand shoves your stomach back onto the bed. “Relax, baby,” Satoru orders. “Let me take care of you.”

When you settle back onto the bed, you squeak as your hips are yanked forward to the edge. Your legs are hoisted onto Satoru’s shoulders. Words are lost on your tongue as his hot muscle dives into your center. You can feel the way your walls immediately flex, you can hear the loud wet laps and sucking noises when he works on your clit.

He feasts on you like a man starved.

Everything feels familiar yet new again at the same time, like you hadn’t already experienced this with him before and the sheer intimacy has your eyes squeezing shut. Moans spill constantly from your lips.

You meet his eyes again, and he shoots you a sideways grin as you feel a sudden swipe come across your heat, making you let out a breathy moan. You feel him moan into you, sending vibrations up your body making you grip tightly on his hair.

“Satoru,” you gasp. Frazzled, your arms flail to find anything for purchase, only to settle on the sheets beneath you, where your fingers grip tight, knuckles going white. He looks up with a hooded gaze, groaning into your center when he sees your newfound position. Your lidded eyes drink in his wet lips, and your foggy mind barely realizes that it’s your juices that coats his face until he dives back down again. When Satoru’s tongue fully presses into your core before his soft lips suckle your clit, you cry out in need for more. Instantly, that is what you’re given: long, deft fingers enter your folds to the knuckle, curling up to hit a spot that has your entire being soaring into the ceiling. Exquisite. You’re floating. There’s something inside of you winding and winding.

“Come for me,” is the last thing you hear before your body obeys. A white light blinds you and curls your toes, snaps your limbs rigid and has your knuckles aching as you grip the sheets even harder. The loud whine you hear is your own, you recognize, and you bite your lip to smother its volume. His warm mouth closes over yours, and you can taste yourself.

“As much as I want your pretty lips around my cock right now,” Satoru rasps into your mouth, “I can’t wait any longer this time. I need you.”

Your fingers are pried off of the sheets—you hadn’t known you needed help with it until Satoru assists you with slick digits of his own.

Satoru moves back to pull both his sweatpants and boxers off. Broad, rippling shoulders come down to a defined chest and stomach, and powerful thighs encase a cock so large and pretty that you can’t take your eyes off of its curve. He looks at you smugly, to which you return with a smirk.

You take him by surprise when you pull him by the arm and push him onto the bed.

He raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“I wanna make you feel good.”

“I thought I – oh fuck,” he hisses, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he steadies himself on his palms when you don’t waste any more time to lick a single stripe from the base of his cock to the tip before you wrap your hand around it, giving it a good tug with a twist of your wrist. Satoru grunts in response, his eyes fluttering shut as you repeat the gesture with your mouth a few times to create some lubrication for the movement of your hand up and down his growing shaft.

Satoru throws his head back with a long groan and his eyes leave yours to close shut as his mouth forms a small ‘o’ shape while your hand works. You switch between easing the tip of his dick into your mouth, circling your tongue around the head, and the tugs of your wrist until he is releasing breathy, choked sighs into the quiet air of your bedroom.

You kiss sloppily around his pelvic area, toying with the sensitive skin as you graze your teeth across the upper skin of his thigh; He jumps a little at the movement, making you grin. You’re avoiding the thing he wants most, which is to be taken into your mouth fully. But you like the way he reacts to being toyed with too much to give in just yet— his head kicked back into the pillows, legs rigid and toes flexing, hands stilled on the covers beside him because they are just itching to grab your head and direct it to where he needs you most.

The movement of your hand up and down Satoru’s shaft slows as you lower your face to his balls, sucking one into your mouth. You toy with it for a minute before moving to the other, all while keeping the slow movement of your wrist going. You begin to wonder how long Satoru will let you keep him in this spot, but just as you do so, he speaks up in his usual hoarse, quiet voice.

“Fuck,” Satoru grunts. “Can you stop teasing already?”

There is a part of you that wants to continue denying him, but you don’t. You let go of his balls from your mouth with a lewd pop and sink your mouth down onto his shaft as far as it will go. Satoru reacts with an outward groan and his body sinks into the mattress with relief at the warmth and wetness coating his cock.

You pull back to the tip but don’t let it leave your mouth completely, circling your tongue around and tasting the saltiness of his arousal before sinking down again. You hollow out your cheeks. The grunts, groans and breaths from Satoru only increase your desire to please him, so you fondle his balls with one hand while you work.

Your own arousal coats the space between your legs. “Shit, baby, slow down,” Satoru croaks, hands finally making purchase in your hair.

He combs the strands back from your face as you bob up and down a few more times; he looks torn between letting himself go in your mouth right then and there and tearing you from his lap so he can fuck the daylights out of you, but he finally makes a decision when his hands lightly push you away.

“You’re the one who rushed me.” You say after pulling back a string of saliva connecting from your mouth to the tip of his dick, and you swear you see Satoru swallow hard at the sight.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you ask, playing coy. It takes everything in you not to smile a little at his reaction.

“Is it wrong to think you look pretty like this?” he murmurs, reaching a hand out to swipe the bottom of your plump lips with his thumb.

“It would disappoint me if you didn’t.” you hum before going back down on him, the vibrations drilling electricity through his cock.

No, no more, he needs you right now.

Satoru slips his hand from the side of your face down to your chin, his thumb lightly putting pressure onto the dip beneath your lower lip in a silent demand to stop. Understanding, you come up and lock your gaze on his mouth, letting him draw you into a fervent kiss.

“I need you,” He breathes into the grooves of your lips, shivering when the tip of your tongue draws lightly against his own. “I need to be inside of you, baby. Let me show you how much I love you.”

He wastes no time to get up and grab the hem of your garment mumbling hands up before he gently pushes you onto the mattress. Satoru caresses you, holds you, like you’d never once fucked, like he never had his cock inside of you and enacted the greatest moment of his life. Your skin is an uncharted map, marked with fingers of the past that were too intoxicated to think twice, to enjoy and devour the expanses of smooth flesh. But now, he has all the time in the world to do that. Every single day, every waking second.

Yet he still cannot get enough of you. Not even when his lips reach your throat and you are gasping into the shell of his ear, blooming meadows of lilac and blue on the delicate skin while his palms smooth down your sides.

Your back arches off the bed with when his tongue circles around the perked bud of your left nipple, and Satoru situates his thigh between yours so that each time you move, your heated center grinds against his leg. He switches between the two — sucking, grazing and tweaking your nipples with his hands and placing pressure on your most sensitive parts until a strangled moan escapes your throat.

“God, that’s hot.” He grins up at you, moving from your chest to slant his lips against yours.

Taking the length in his palm, Satoru hovers above your still form, eyes never leaving your body. Obeying, you push yourself up into the plush sheets, gasping in surprise when a strong body immediately covers yours right after. “You really are impatient.”

“I am.” He smirks. Your arms are thrust above you, and you let out a quick mewl as your wrists are pinned together with one of his hands. “And you are going to learn why in a second.”

Months of tension, loneliness, regret. All of them melted away at the sound of you calling out his name. With the strong arms caging in your vision, veins prominent under their skin, Satoru steadies himself as he slots his cock in between your legs. Your moan at the feel of his nakedness escapes in a soft puff, and your nipples pebble in anticipation. Your boyfriend gazes unabashedly at your sex. When his lidded eyes come up to meet your curious ones, he swoops down to claim your mouth again, tongue rolling across your lips and jutting inside to tether his passion to your heart. You respond in kind, trying and failing to release your arms from his grip above your head. When your attempts prove futile, your whimper echoes into his mouth, and his deep chuckle stirs something primal within your core.

Satoru’s ravaging continues as he leans his sharp cheekbones into the side of your face, his tongue licking fire along your neck. Unbeknownst to you, one of his hands wanders down to your folds, and you jolt in shock when familiar fingers slide along their path.

“Please,” you gasp in his ear, tightening your arms again and bucking your hips to move anything, anything at all in response to the pleasure. “Satoru, please.”

“What do you want, hmm?”

Your first attempt at a response is cut off by his teeth nicking the pulse on your neck, and your entire butt leaves the bed and thrusts into his beautiful fingers, causing them to slide deeper into your cunt. Satoru’s proceeding groan is enough to have you keening back for more, but you still have it in you to answer with, “You.”

“You already have me.” he says as a matter of factly.

“No, I mean”—you gasp as he moves his fingers around, thumbing your clit and causing slick to gush from your center—“I mean, I need you.”

“That’s the same thing, sweet,” Satoru tuts, knowing full well he is being an ass. “I need you to be specific for me.”

As you feel the incredibly hard cock against your thigh twitch in want, you wonder why the hell your lover is stalling. You try to jerk against his strong restraint on your wrists again, and he laughs at your feeble attempt. “You’re impossible,” you huff.

“And you’re going to tell me what you want, or else you won’t be getting it.”

“Baby,” you pleaded, almost certain you weren’t capable of holding it in anymore.

Satoru shoves his hips down into yours, and the feel of his length presses into your core. You cry out in want, thrashing in earnest and groaning in a mix of frustration and pleasure. Smirking, he leans next to your ear and whispers, “Sorry. I just like seeing you like this.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” you huff.

“When it comes to you? Always.” There is a brief, light slap to your cunt, and your body jolts up until your fingers knock the dark wooden headboard above you. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

“For my boyfriend to stop being an—”

Another slap to your aching folds causes your back to arch again, your nipples grazing Satoru’s firm chest. “Try again.”

You suck in a breath and exhale shakily, your legs straining with the constant pressure against your core and your arms growing beautifully sore above your head.

“I want it.” You stare right into your boyfriend’s eyes. “I want your cock.” This makes Satoru snicker before his focus goes down to your pussy.

“Fuck.” Satoru slides his fingers in one long swipe up your cunt again before bringing them to his mouth. As he licks them clean, you let out a shuddering breath, wondering how there is still room for you to swoon. “I knew my girl wasn’t shy.”

Instead of a biting retort, you watch as Satoru leans down slowly to kiss you once more. He positions himself, sliding his hardened length against your slick folds and letting you feel just how thick and warm he is.

His lips leave yours too soon, but it’s to tell you, “I’m putting it in, okay?”

When you nod, Satoru slowly enters, and he’s just as big as before only since it’s been a while, it’s a bit of a stretch. You hiss at the feeling, and Satoru is merciful in the way he releases your wrists to sling an arm behind your head. His eyes never leave yours as he pushes in, inch by inch and both of your mouths fall open at the slick contact. Instead, breath rushes out, mingling warm in the air between your parted lips as you pant in anticipation. His hold on the back of your neck is gentle, and he whispers, “Oh god, thaaat’s it. I missed you so much. I missed this.”

You hum in delight. “Are you sure you missed me and not just the sex?”

“Believe me, it was the only thing that made me look forward to getting out of that place.” he says in a teasing tone.

“You’re asking to be put back in that box so bad right now.”

Satoru chuckles again before he leans down to kiss you. “I’m just kidding, baby. Don’t be so serious.”

“Satoru, you’re killing the mood. Hurry up and fuck me already.”

“Yes ma’am.” He replies before wasting no time to position his cock at your entrance. Satoru loves how your hair is splayed onto the pillow, teeth sinking into your lower lip as he slowly slides himself into you and it makes his mouth part at the image of it. Your freed hands immediately look for solace on his shoulders, gripping them while you follow his direction and take deep breaths. The intrusion starts to feel welcoming as your cunt adjusts to the sensation, your walls fluttering around his length and starting to suck him in further.

“You’re so tight…” When Satoru is fully in, he stays as still as he can to let you get used to the feeling. “So, so good for me,” he tells you. “Open your mouth for me.”

You immediately obey, sucking onto the two fingers he taps against your lips. You hollow your cheeks, and when Satoru groans, you swirl your tongue around his digits.

He swoops in to steal a kiss from you again, and he digs an elbow into the bed for balance as he starts to move. You love the way his brows scrunch in concentration, the way he looks down to watch himself make love to you while in the act, the way he makes you feel nothing and everything at once. When Satoru’s small thrusts end up not being enough, you tell him to go faster. He only laughs before obliging.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes. The fingers that had summoned you curl around your chin now, forcing you to look only at him; his grip too strong to break free from.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you grin, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.

Instead of responding, your boyfriend picks up the pace, his muscles rippling under his sweaty skin and his stray strands of platinum hair bobbing with each motion. Your moans and mewls mix with his deep groans, and you have decided that those are your favorite sound in the world. Maybe even better than the soft pitter patter of the rain that begins to fall outside. Feeling full and complete is unrivaled.

Flushed and with your eyes squeezed tightly shut, your brow furrowed, you murmur his name senselessly, over and over like a prayer, a plea, a please, please, please that slips in breathless turns from your lips uninhibitedly.

The feeling gets overwhelming. The more you look at him, the more you feel like you’re about to cry whenever your mind reminds you of what happened. Days where his usual corny jokes and occasionally immature behavior were replaced with days of you being cooped up wishing he’d come back to you, hoping that wherever he was that he’d be okay. You feel the incessant sting at the back of your throat as you fight back the tears that threaten to fall onto your cheeks.

For this beautiful instance in time, nothing matters, absolutely nothing but this.

Your body is acting on instinct, moving with him and even wrapping legs around his built frame. The grunt and low fuck you get in return is a prize you sigh at, and when Satoru pins your wrists above your head again, you revel in the restraint.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he tells you, to which you respond with a grin.

Your legs slide against his buttocks and the rest of his skin, but your muscles endure. His cock rubs against your walls in the best way possible—each stroke deeper than the last—and you know you’re close to euphoria.

But Satoru has different plans. He lunges in with two particularly hard thrusts before he pulls out completely, eyeing your messy state as he pulls you up, shifting you so that you find yourself on your knees somehow, underarms pressed into the mattress when he pushes your torso down with your ass in the air for him. He wastes no time to push his cock into you, pulling out a cry from you. He slides in easily from how wet you’ve gotten when he fucked you on your back. “Fuck you’re so wet for me.” You hear him say from behind you.

You gasp as you drop down to your elbows from the feeling of him stretching you out in the most perfect way. He gives you a few seconds to adjust before he starts to move, and shameless noises start to leave your mouth instantly. You feel him grab your hips, and he starts to slam you back at the same time he’s thrusting forward, creating a deepness that has you seeing white. He bends over to kiss your back, making you arch yourself more into him.

“Oh fuck.” you drawl out.

Satoru’s lips ghost over your ear and you can feel him smirk against your skin when he asks, “You like that baby? You’re gonna show me what I missed, yeah?” he pants.

At this point, you don’t care how loud you’re being. Satoru on the other hand is enjoying this as much as you are. Each thrust has him feeling like he wants to have it his way and cum deep inside you. He moves back to look down where you’re both connecting, taking in the sight of his cock sliding in and out easily of your cunt. His teeth are caught between his lower lip when he sees the white ring around his cock, making him even crazier. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes throughout the room, arousing the both of you even more. Your moans are muffled by the sheets as you bury your face in the mattress. Satoru’s palms imprint their mark on your hips as he pulls them as close as he can while he thrusts repeatedly into you.

“Ah, Toru, go harder.” you cry out.

“Oh, you feel so good.” he moans as he begins to thrust harder into you. You’re too lost in the pleasure that you can’t find the words to speak. You can only afford to respond with high pitched moans every time the tip of his cock touches that one spot inside of you. You feel yourself nearly reaching your high when suddenly Satoru pulls out again, pushing you onto your back while he steadies himself on his knees.

“Wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum,” he smiles, before he pulls both of your legs apart to slide his cock up and down between your slick folds teasingly. A groan sounds from his throat, sending a rush through your body when warm lips come down to latch onto your breasts, and you throw your head into the soft pillow beneath you.

“Satoru...” you whine. “Hmm?” he grins.

“Stop teasing already.” you sigh in frustration. He chuckles at your neediness. “I know baby, it’s just fun seeing you like this.” You glare at him before you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. Satoru takes this as a cue to take full command, settling on his knees and bringing both his hands to grip your hips as he continues to pound himself vigorously into you. No words are exchanged between the two of you, but the feelings are conveyed perfectly. Passion, longing, love. Everything unsaid the day he returned on your doorstep.

“Oh,” you breathe, “Toru, you feel so good. Please don’t stop.”

Everything from your hands gripping his arms to the way his cock fills you to the brim is too much, and your legs finally give and slam back down onto the sheets.

Your body goes limp as Satoru thrusts into you, hard fingers digging wonderfully into your skin and brows knitted in pleasure. He continues to bite down on his bottom lip as he watches his cock disappear in and out of your pussy again and again, and your gaze is hazy as you watch his chest ripple with each thrust, enamored. You find sanity in the taste of his tongue and stability in your fingers grappling for mercy against his shoulder blades, close, so, so close.

You feel it before you recognize the winding. The edge you toppled from before is in reach again, and after a breathy moan you gasp, “I’m close, go faster, please.”

God. He loves it when you get so needy, so desperate under him like this. He loves the way you call him by his nickname. It shows how much you’re tightly wrapped around his finger. He finds it adorable how one minute you’re giving him an attitude but the next you’re begging for him to fuck you. Just like right now. Which is why he doesn’t mind when you call him an asshole or roll your eyes at him when he says something stupid. Because at the end of the day, Satoru knows how to please you, he knows how to treat you right. That’s why you’re taking him like such a good girl, right?

“Yeah? Then let go for me, cum for me baby.” he grunts, low and leaving no room for objection. One of his hands reaches down between you, a thumb rubbing your clit lovingly. The feeling is immense, and your vision blanks. Every limb in your body locks with pleasure. You can only describe the feeling as a constant wave crashing against your shore, slamming its powerful crests into you again and again.

“You’re so beautiful.” You hear the words somewhere above you, but they’re blurry in your ears.

Finally—slowly—your limbs settle back onto the bed. Satoru smiles down at you before asking,

“Did I lose you before this?”

“You’ll never lose me,” you confess truthfully.

Satoru huffs in amusement before whispering something under his breath. You don’t have time to ask what he said before he starts back up again to chase his own high, and your body is heavy with content as you watch.

A hand threads beneath your hair to curl around the back of your neck and pull you up to press his mouth against yours. His lips are soft, and he sinks into the kiss with teeth and tongue and fire that makes your mind go blank. You let him nip at your lips until they’re swollen and sore, letting him twist his tongue against yours until you’re both gasping and his grip has turned to iron. You pour your entire body and soul into the connection, and your boyfriend's thrusts start becoming frantic and jilted. His free palm grabs your hip to steady your quivering form; your hands swing behind his shoulders.

Fingers rake marks across his back, and Satoru outright moans into your mouth before his thrusts are so rough that your body is shoved up the bed.

“I’m not gonna last much l-longer.” He stammers as you begin to tighten around him, letting him know exactly how close you are. His thrusts become quicker and erratic while he leans down closer towards your face.

You almost feel yourself reaching the third orgasm of the night, but it’s him you want to come before anything else.

And he does seconds later, his voice gravelly as he groans above your face — your list of favorite sounds forever multiplying. You feel the warm sensation of his cum shoot into your cunt. Your eyes wander up to Satoru’s face, which contorts in pleasure at the new found tightness of your heat. You use your last bit of strength to move your hips along to meet his movements, and then after about a minute he stills himself inside of you. As his forehead presses into yours, you hug him close, almost brought to tears again from the emotions spilling from your chest. For a moment, nothing else exists. Only the feeling of his bare skin sliding against yours, the connection between your legs, and the souls dwelling within appear on this plane. It’s a strange thing to think about. But it is yours to store away in your memory forever.

You both lay there in silence, catching your breath. Basking in the afterglow. Your boyfriend then turns to you, resting on an elbow. The early morning shadow that casts into the room catches onto your skin, painting it with a pale glow, making you appear ethereal. Your lips are softly pouted, dried out roses that puff patient exhalations of air in time with the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

You turn your head to him. “Satoru?”

“What is it?”

“I love you.”

“I don’t blame you.” he grins. You glare at him and slap him on the chest making him laugh. “I’m kidding, baby.” He smiles down at you genuinely. “I love you too. More than anything else in the world.”

Your lips connect, they connect in warm, rosy flesh, as if nothing could ever go wrong. That no matter what obstacles you both face, what hardships you must conquer, you will always get through it together.

The same three words slip down your face once more and into your mouth, only to be thrown out again as you reciprocate. As you both pant in exhaustion, you already feel sleep start to claim you again as the early morning light peeks through the sheer curtains.

You make love two, four, twenty or a hundred times, enough for you to lose count on your fingers and for the sun to ascend from the horizon. It is moments like this, watching you out of the corner of his eye, absolutely adoring the soft exhalations you let out and beating heart against his bare chest, that he knows what he feels so strongly within his heart is the unconditional truth.

He is helplessly in love with you.

#gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x reader smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

2K notes · View notes

back2bluesidex · 5 months

Text

J-Hope Fic Recommendations (18+)

If you are already following me for quite some time then you should know that I am a massive masochist and I like to torture myself by reading and writing angsty stories. So, most of the stories that I recommended are angsty as well (might as well have sad endings). So please carefully read the warnings before proceeding. Have a happy reading.

And please don't expect much from me. There are several other rec lists far better than mine. The only motive I had behind creating this list to promote some of the stories, which I think are very underrated. especially angsty ones. These stories are beautifully written so.. I just wanted to let the authors know how phenomenal of a job they have done (As a writer myself I know how much this actually means). Thanks to these amazing writers and I am grateful that they decided to share their work here with us.

[Minors please stay away from my blog!]

Key: F - Fluff, A- Angst, S- Smut, Y- Yandere, *- Personal Favorite

Oneshots

1. Ash from his fire by @filmcrystal - A, implied S, cheating au

It will break your heart so please proceed with caution.

2. Forbidden Fruit by @deepdarkdelights - A, Y

This one deals with several triggering topics. Hence, read the warnings carefully. But I can say that you will love this twisted mafia Hoseok way too much!

3. Shadows by @borathae - A, exes au

One of the most underrated stories I have ever read! Yeah, it is very angsty and Hoseok is so cruel but... we all are masochist here. lmao!

4. Heaven sent by @aquagustd - A, F, S, f2l au

Sexy soccer player Hoseok is just another name for perfection.

5. Bound by @explicit-tae - S, kinda f2l

Talk abut BDSM! GOOOD Sweet Lord!!!

6. Jigsaw by @sunshinejunghoseokie - A *

I remembered crying after reading this one. So damn underrated that it physically hurts me!!

7. Delta Disorder by @bangtanintotheroom Y, S, Supernatural au

I don't usually read supernatural stuff but this demon Hoseok is way too sexy to skip!

8. Systems of Touch by @yeoldontknow - S, F, tiny A, S2l au

Beautifully written! The author used 100% of their capabilities to write this one. Perfectly drawn Professor Hoseok with a very attractive character of reader. Certainly a treat to read.

9. 2:00 AM by @likeastarstar - A, fuckbuddy Hoseok

Part of a series but can be read as a standalone. and Hoseok is a dick in this.

10. Love Quarrels by @mirahuyooo - A, F, mafia au

A cold yet soft mafia husband Hoseok chases behind his angry wife... could there be anything better than that?

11. The Hook Up ft. JK by @minisugakoobies - S

A little bit of a triangle.. but not love? if that makes sense.

12. Entelechy by @drmflm - suggestive (I believe)

Can't call this one angst and neither is this about Hoseok (he is there, don't worry). This one is more about the reader and her growth and it's beautiful.

13. Orgasms on the verge of a nervous breakdown by @sluttyandere - S, Y *

This is very dark and quite triggering, so please don't read unless you can handle those stuff.

14. For the night by @aseaofyoongi - A, S

I cried. that's all.

15. We Shouldn't by @beahae - S **

Hands down to one of my most favourite Hoseok smuts ever!!! This one has a Jimin follow-up so make sure to read that too.

16. Real or not real by @nmjoo-n - A, S, F **

Again one of the most exquisite Hoseok fics I have ever read!

17. Checkmate by @sunshinejoon - A, S

This was supposed to have a sequel but it is perfect regardless.

18. Do I wanna know - @yoongiphoria - A, f2? ****

Now, MJ knows how much I love this one. I often read this story and I never ever get bored of it! I love this to the core and you should too!

19. Scrap - @silv3rswirls - A, Y, S

Dark and sexy. Read the warnings carefully please.

20. It's a Promise by @sahmfanficbts - S, A, Arranged marriage au

Just read it.

21. Three by @hamsterclaw - S

Again.. VERY UNDERRATED!

22. Wonderwall by @kiara-ish - A with an open ending

Might not be for the faint hearted.

23. Infatuated by @bangtanfancamp - F

If you like high school love au then this one is for you.

24. Constellations of You by @persphonesorchid - S, F, established relationship au

This is so domestic that my heart almost exploded while reading!!

25. Burning flames or paradise by @/yoongiphoria - A, tiny f ****

MJ does magic.... that's all I can say.

26. Alone again by @archivedkookie - A, F

I loooove these kinds of stories. Just the right amount of despair with the right amount of hope... beautiful.

27. Feeling Good by @bonvoyagenoona - A, S

Everything I write about this will fall short.. so I will just shut up and let you enjoy the goodness.

28. Distracted by @dilfhoseokie - S

Ahem..

29. Drink Champaign in my airplane by @/bangtanintotheroom - F, S, F2l

Perfectly embodies a rich hot CEO friend Hoseok... a fun read.

30. Keynote by @missgeniality - S **********

MY MOST FAVORITE HOSEOK ONESHOT TO EXIST IN THE PLANET. yeah.. (this has a follow-up but I like this one better)

Series

The thing is that I don't usually read series. I just don't have that patience. So this list is pretty small and forgive me for that.

1. Transference by @dark-muse-iris - A, S, F, S2l *********************

[Completed]

I wasn't the same after reading this. I can't talk about this trantric therapist Hoseok, 'cause I will never shut up if I start.

2. Kanalia by @xjoonchildx - A, S, f (?) *********************

[Ongoing]

Honestly, who isn't a sucker for Lord Jung? You must be sick if you are not. (On a side note.. Kanalia is keeping me alive from jumping off trains on tough days)

3. Guarded by @/xjoonchildx - A, S, F, S2l

[Completed]

Mafia Hoseok with dogtags. I think that's enough of an introduction.

If you want to read the Hoseok stories I write, you can checkout my Masterlist.

1K notes · View notes

lv2mt · 10 days

Text

hungry

this is my first time writing smut feel free to give me any tips☺️

the sun was reflecting of his skin, sweat was dripping off his body, the way he would bite his lips out of frustration. you was mesmerized by the married man in font of you.

you had known art for a couple of years you both meet up a lot there has never been sexual tension between you and art but recently he's all you've ever needed.

art finished his practice and you both went back to his car, for some reason the car drive was silent but you didn't mind because being with him just made your mind go to the most dirtiest imagination.

"y/n?" art said breaking the silence "yeah" i took my eyes of the window to look at him, he looked frustrated like he needed something. "i need to talk to you about something" he looked back at me but his eyes travelled to my lips then back on the road.

my body knew what he wanted and it turned me on even more. "sure what's up?" his hand gripped on the wheel making his hand pop out in veins. "this tension between us, i can't help but want you" i was shocked hearing that come out his mouth but it made me hungry for him.

i didn't know what to say i wanted him to have me, do anything to me but i just couldn't think of how to word it. "this tension i feel it your all i can think about but you have a wife art i don't want to ruin that for you" i said still looking at him but then looked out the window to notice he's pulled up in some empty parking lot.

he turned his head to look at me, his eyes was cold like he was demanding that he wanted me. “don’t worry about her” his tone of voice sounded so careless but it was attractive.

i couldn’t hold it in anymore i took the lead and kissed him, his lips was soft our lips just felt meant for each other like a jigsaw piece.

he slipped his tongue in my mouth, one hand traveling to my hips as the other on my cheek. our breaths filling up the car, all i could think about was him in me i needed it, i needed it now.

“you don’t know how much i’ve been needing this” art said in between kissing, “oh yea baby” his lips moving down to my neck marking it as his and i loved it.

he pulled back his seat and i sat on his lap his hand traveling up my summer dress, his fingers rubbing my heat feeling the wetness of my panties. “already this wet hm” his voice sounded so hot “mhm”

his fingers now in me, at first he was going slow i knew what he wanted, he wanted me to beg and that’s what i did “art go faster please” he smiled looking at me, mesmerised by the woman who’s begging for him. his pace fastens even putting another finger up me, my head on his chest moaning.

“you feel so good” i try to say “oh yea?” art replies back then slowing his pace and pulling out his fingers, he then continues to lick the cum of them, i needed him in me i couldn’t wait much longer but he already knew that.

i lifted up a bit so he could take his shorts and boxers off while i took my thong off, we didn’t have a condom but i was on the pill so that didn’t matter. “you ready baby” he asked i nodded in approval.

his big dick going in me stretching me out, my eyes watering from the slight pain but that soon went as i started to thrust on him making us both moan.

the car shaking making it obvious what we was doing on the outside but we didn’t care, the thought of us getting caught just made it even more sexy.

our lips numbing from the force of us making out. “y/n i’m gonna cum” them words coming out his mouth triggered me to go even faster. hearing the moans and grunts coming out his mouth was like listening to music.

the faster i got the more closer we both was so coming it wouldn’t take long now. his hands gripped on my waist and his head rolled back leaving a empty space on his neck, i kissed all down it making one of his hand grip on my hair.

a couple of minutes went by and i felt his warm load in me and mine on his. he was still in me but we was still, not moving and now just catching our breaths. i lifted myself back up making his dick exit me.

he put his boxer and shorts back on n i put my panties back on making us now clothed again. “your neck” art said shocked of what he did, i moved and sat back in the passenger seat getting my phone and looking in the camera.

my eyes widened the trail of hickeys all down my neck “oh my god art!” i said but i didn’t bother me it shows that i am now his. we both laughed about my neck “i guess i was just in the moment to even realise” we both just laughed and smiled at each other.

“that was fun” i said hoping to get the same response back “we should do it again be our little secret” i once again nodded my head as approval and he gave me a peck on my head.

#art donaldson #challengers #mike faist #art donaldson x reader #mike faist x you #smut fanfiction #art donaldson x you #art donaldson smut #fanfic

344 notes · View notes

fischltao · 2 years

Text

Jujutsu Kaisen NSFW

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!

characters included: nanami kento, gojo satoru, higuruma hiromi, toji fushiguro

warnings: explicit smut, mentions of unprotected sex, belly bulge, breeding kink, size kink mentions, manhandling

afab!reader

nanami kento

nanami is a passionate lover. he doesn't care about one night stands or fwb situations. he will only fuck you if he's in love with you and you better believe he does it well. his thrusts are deep and hard and he's pretty vocal; he grunts and lets you know how good you're making him feel, all while whispering sweet nothings into your ear. it drives him i n s a n e when he feels your nails scratching down his back and your legs pulling his hips closer to yours. he's all about intimacy.

"fuck, you feel so good" he whispered as he delivered another deep thrust, making you whine and tighten around his hard cock "you like this?" thrust "so good for me" thrust "only for me"

gojo satoru

satoru hits so deep and hard, you are certain he is using his infinite domain on you. he grabs, bites, slaps and teases the fuck out of you but when he gets serious, it makes you feel like a chosen one for being able to receive what this man gives you. gojo will literally drive you insane. he'll look deep into your eyes as his hips snap against yours so harshly it makes you see stars and tells you his loves you as his hand presses down you stomach to feel the bulge his cock makes and it makes you cum so hard when you see him fall apart just for you.

"do you feel that?" he asks taking your much smaller hand and pressing it down your stomach and you nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the pressure heightens your pleasure to the maximum "you were made for me and i was just made for you"

higuruma hiromi

he's never felt the way he does when he's inside of you ever before. you are the love of his life, his heaven and fuck is he good at showing his love for you. he will fuck you against any surface of his penthouse. whether itd be the kitchen, his office or the pool table, he doesn't care the least, you're too insatiable to not be taken right then and there. secretely dreams about impregrating you. he doesn't have anything he feels proud for in his life but the moment his seed shoots deep inside your cervix, it just feels like a jigsaw falling into place

"gonna cum so deep inside of you, you want that too?" hiromi grunted, shooting down his whiskey as he fucked you hard on the pool table "gonna make you my wife, you're gonna look so pretty with your belly full of me"

toji fushiguro

his big hand fits so perfectly around your titties. he loves playing with them as he fucks you into oblivion. can manhandle you so easy, he can just throw you around and treat you so good. one moment you're bouncing on his cock and the other he's just harshly pounding you from behind and spreading your asscheeks open as his thumb plays with your asshole. a rough man for sure.

toji was moving in an inhumane speed, moving in and out of you so fast and it just felt so good, too good and you're sure you're about to pass out from the overstimulation "you're trying to run away from it but here you are still clenching around me, sweetheart" slap "be a good girl and take this cock like the whore you are"

4K notes · View notes

coeurify · 5 months

Text

TIS THE DAMN SEASON

ELLIE WILLIAMS

𖤐 . ─┈ the road not taken looks real good now, and it always leads to you— and my hometown. ˚* .

pairing: modern au!ellie x ex!reader. based on this song. series summary: jackson, wyoming suffocated you for eighteen years. the only breath of fresh air you got in that small town was your girlfriend, ellie williams, and your friends. the moment you graduate high-school you decide you have to leave for the city. leave them. three years later, you come home for the holidays, and nothings changed. except the fact that in your absence, your family began including your ex’s family in their holiday season. you quickly realize how easy it is to fall into old habits with old people. series warnings: heavy angst. hurt with little comfort. some fluff, some smut .christmas/holiday celebrations. high school sweethearts turned exes turned fwb. unhappy-ish ending.

part one, part two, part three, part four. playlist: i won’t ask you to wait, if you don’t ask me to stay. series taglist! reply to be added @abbyscherry @sawaagyapong g @muthafuckingstargirl @fleshunger @jigsaw-victim @brunettedolls-blog @ellies-tatto @mydiaurie @kittnii @villainousbear @ih8chickentenders @spiral-x @ceraiio @makemescreamel @prettygirlfemme @mourningdovee @a-normal-harry-lover r @bejing-blue @elliesprttygirl l @feelsoseencantdream @princessofdisaster444 @ellieslittlegf @erin-lxxu @pedrosballsack @jisoonunn

this is just my series masterlist! :)

#𖤐 . ─┈ tis the damn season #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams angst #ellie williams smut

432 notes · View notes

turnipoddity · 6 months

Text

my friend saw me looking for lingeries in pinterest and she immediately said “oh!! I know a good store for it!! Do you wanna buy some??” No it’s for a smut drawing of jigsaw killer

#i just stare blankly #KEHSKSHDKDJFKF #saw #lawrence gordon

598 notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 1 year

Text

Dead Disco / Chapter 5

Dead Disco Masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.4k words - AO3 18+ Minors DNI, no smut. Protective Simon, Protective Johnny, Possessive Simon, brief mention of children, anxiety, Simon has a lot of feelings, relationship issues, angst, comfort, mention of assault, established throuple. The three of you go shopping.

Simon does not like this realtor. He does not like the way she looks at you, like she’s looking down her nose, like she thinks you’re less somehow. He does not like how she appraises both himself and Johnny, like she’s trying to piece together a jigsaw puzzle in her mind. He watches in disgust as she tries to touch Johnny, her fingers just missing his elbow, like he’s some sort of prized animal on display for her to take part of. He briefly fantasizes about scaring her, threatening her so she runs far, far away from his family in fear, never to bother them again.

In Simon’s defense, his emotional and mental state are currently sitting on a razor thin wire. He is volatile. He is anxious, and uncomfortable, and frightened. He watches your every expression; he tracks your every movement. He takes note of your inflection, your rhythm, the pitch of your voice. He tenses when he sees you standing next to an open door.

He is afraid if he turns around, or blinks too slowly, you could be gone.

And he already knows that if it were to happen, again, he would not be able to hold himself together like last time. He would not be able to keep both himself and Johnny upright. He would crack. He would crumble.

They would be lost.

Johnny approaches him from the east, from the formal dining room that has the floor to ceiling windows that you were so excited about. You peer from them, eyes darting down and up and all around, and he watches for the tell-tale sign of you feeling overwhelmed, the clench of your nails to your palm. When it doesn’t come, he rolls his shoulders, shaking a minuscule amount of tension free from his bones.

“What’d ye think?” Johnny slides a hand under his sweatshirt, across his ribs and then up, to his breastbone. His heart thumps hard against his palm, and Simon closes his eyes to draw a deep breath.

“I like it. Liked the last one too. And the one before that…”

“The realtor?”

“She’s a right cunt.” He hisses, and Johnny chuckles.

“’M pure done in, I think.” Johnny opens his mouth onto Simon’s shoulder, and he feels the press, the points of his teeth through the fabric and his skin. His blood heats, and he turns his head slightly, just enough that their noses nearly touch.

“Behave.”

“Always behave for you, LT.” He pauses, watching you. “She likes this one more.” You’re looking down at the hardwood, inspecting the dark stain of a black-grey color that runs through the entire flat, pointing at something and asking the realtor a question. She answers you curtly, and Simon can tell from where he stands that the dismissal in her tone hurts your feelings. His fingers curl into a fist, and then you’re looking over to the two of them, something soft and hopeful written across your face. The light from the very tall windows streams down on top of you, shining onto your hair, your skin, your lips that are turned upwards in a timid smile. It reflects through your eyes, shimmering across your irises and swirling in the depths of their color, pulling them both towards you like they’ve been hypnotized.

It takes his breath away. It takes Johnny’s too, because he whistles out a low murmur that only Simon can hear.

“Bloody hell, Si. That’s our girl.”

“Close your eyes.” Johnny urges, and you chew on your lip nervously while you look between the two of them. “D’you trust us?”

You nod. Simon tilts his head, regarding you silently, teeth clenched tight behind the mask.

“You’re not gonna like… do something weird right? We talked about boundaries…” Johnny laughs, and then kisses your clavicle in the slow way that Simon likes, the slow way that Johnny touches him too.

“No, love. We’d never cross your boundaries.” He tries to reassure you, but your gaze flicks upwards from where you’re sitting in front of Simon, like you’re waiting for him to say something.

He nods. A burst of words builds up inside of him, a plea, a confession, a promise. He wants to tell you that you can trust him, that all he wants is to taste you, press his lips to yours, savor the breath of your moans and whimpers, promise you that you have nothing to fear. He wants to tell you he’ll take care of you, that he and Johnny will keep you, keep you with them, keep you safe, keep you happy. He wants to tell you all the things you’re not ready to hear yet. Wants to tell you you’re precious, so precious to them already. That you buried yourself beneath their skin, worked your way into their hearts. All without even seeing his face. With baring your body to him, but never pushing him to reveal himself. Never demanding anything from him.

He says none of it, only nods. Only hopes.

It’s enough, and he relaxes a fraction when you do close your eyes.

Johnny’s palm rests across the bridge of your nose, effectively blocking your sight, and Simon pulls the mask away, folding it carefully before pushing it down into his pocket. He holds your chin between his fingers, tilting your face to expose your neck, the beating pulse under your jaw.

When he kisses you, it’s effortless, and he tries to keep his head straight while your mouth and all its heat meets him equally and unafraid.

He pulls on Johnny’s wrist, freeing your vision to reveal your eyes still clenched shut, your faith and trust on obvious display, your eagerness to do as he’s asked striking something sharp and pleasurable in his body. You’re so, so good, so sweet for them. So perfect.

“Open your eyes, darling.” He instructs, and you frown, brows creased in confusion. He strokes your cheekbone with a thumb reassuringly before repeating himself. “It’s alright.” He promises, and you finally relent.

When you do, and you finally see him, truly see him for the first time, your face breaks into a radiant smile, and it nearly stops his heart.

“What do you think?” The realtor asks, and her eyes glitter when she glances at Johnny’s position over Simon’s shoulder, where he’s leaning with his hand still wrapped around his torso.

“It’s up to her.” Johnny inclines his head to where you’re standing in the kitchen, inspecting the cabinets.

“Hey, these are like the slow close drawers.” You say over your shoulder, pulling one out and then pushing it back in to show them, an excited grin pushing your cheeks up. The act of selling the old flat and getting a new one is not a cure all for what ails you, what ails them, but it is a step in the right direction. A step that will lead to the next, and then the next, until they’ve cut out all the rot that’s festered in your head. A step you have seemed to embrace wholeheartedly, even if Simon is having trouble letting go of his worries regarding how you’re feeling.

Breathe. She’s right here. You’re all together.

“Come here, darling.” Simon implores, and you do so willingly, sidling over to stand in front of them, casually watching the realtor who’s lurking at the edge of the room. “What do you think?”

“I like it.” You nod, more so to yourself than to him or Johnny. “It’s… awfully big? But I don’t hate that about it. I mean, I’m not sure what we need with three, four bedrooms if you count the sunroom but I could turn one into an office so I could work from home more.” He feels Johnny’s mouth curve into a smile on his shoulder and he allows one to stretch across his face as well. You look between them hesitantly, and then your fingers curl into your palm. “Or, we could leave them both as spares, whatever you wa-“

“It’s what you want, darling.” Johnny emphasizes, beating him to it, and Simon nods his agreement. “We want you to have what you want. It’s your home.”

“Okay, yeah. Then… I like it. A lot.”

“What about an art room? Didn’t you have in your last flat?” You smile again, face bright and beaming.

“Yeah! That would be great.” You look over at the kitchen and its tall cabinets again before turning back to them. “And I love the kitchen. I think it’s more than big enough.” Simon agrees, and pictures you in the kitchen with them, sitting on the counter while Johnny cooks, half your body covered by a t shirt, feet slipped into too big socks. “But we’ll have to change the tub.” You frown, and Johnny rolls his eyes playfully before he pulls you into his arms.

“You sure about that love? Looked plenty big to me.”

“What? No… definitely not.”

“Definitely yes.” You scoff. “Don’t believe me, go check.” When you push away from him to do just that, Johnny leans his head on Simon’s shoulder as they indulgently watch you walk away.

“A lot of bedrooms.” Johnny whispers and Simon immediately shakes his head.

“Don’t, Johnny.” He admonishes.

“Ya never know Si. All our dreams have come true so far, ‘aven’t they? What’s one more?” Simon scowls at him. “Or two.”

“Johnny.” He warns, voice low. The last thing they need is for you to come around the corner and hear him indulging in his wildest fantasies, his whispered prayers that he’s only ever dreamed about in private, only ever told Simon about when he thought he might die in Las Almas.

Johnny’s quiet for a minute, and then sighs.

“You’re right.” He resists the urge to say I know, and instead leans in for a kiss, brushing his lips against Johnny’s, his mouth opening slowly, slick heat of their tongues against one another going straight to his head, sending blood rushing through his body-

The realtor clears her throat with an annoying, high-pitched cough, and Simon turns with a huff of irritation.

“We’ll take this one.”

“What’re you on about, LT?” Johnny’s hot on his heels, practically breathing down his neck while Simon tries to get free of his tac vest.

“I said, fuck off Soap.” Get away. Get away, get away, go away. Go anywhere else. The mask on his face suddenly feels suffocating, the entire hall feels suffocating, and he pushes through the door to the tiny four walls that houses his bed so he can rip the skull free from his head and finally breathe.

The door swings shut. Johnny stands just inside, just enough inside that the door can close, his body pressed between the edge of his dresser and the door frame.

“Ghost.” Simon trains his eyes on the floor. Maybe, if he ignores him, he’ll leave. If he pretends he’s not here in the first place, he’ll take his bloody mohawk and charming eyes and beautiful face and get the fuck out of his room. “Simon.” Johnny presses, and it’s enough of a match on the gunpowder to set off an explosion.

“DON’T CALL ME THAT.” Simon throws the mask at the wall, the sound of the hard-shell clattering to the floor while his lungs draw air in harshly. “I told you to fuck off, Soap. Now get the hell out of my room or-“

“Or what, LT?” Rage boils in Simon’s blood, hot, burning anger that sears him from the inside out. He steps closer to Johnny, closes the distance until his chest is touching his tac vest, the only barrier left between their bodies.

He expects to see fear in Johnny’s face. Expects to bask in it, wants to relish in it. He wants Johnny to feel as he does, wants him to know the cold grip of fear around his throat, wants him to understand. He wants Johnny to know what it’s like, to be afraid of losing everything, even things he doesn’t have yet.

He does not expect to see softness in Johnny’s face. Patience. Kindness. Adoration. He did not expect to step closer, as close as he could, and he did not expect to feel Johnny’s hand take his, the bare skin bleeding warmth through his glove, an intentional pressure pulling him in closer and closer until his face is a mere centimeter from Simon’s, and then a millimeter, and then just a breath’s distance away, the softness in his eyes unchanging, the understanding still as solid as it was a day, a week, a month ago.

Simon does not expect to press his lips to Johnny’s. He doesn’t think Johnny expected it either. All he knows is one moment, he was nearing a rage filled blackout, and the next, his mouth is tasting Johnny and his honey sweet lips, their sweet, sugar like softness pressed gently against him, opening for him, letting him swipe his tongue behind his teeth and pull him in for more. It’s intoxicating, and more than he’s ever dreamed, more than he’s ever hoped for.

“Eejit.” Soap hisses, but his mouth twists into a smile. “You’re a bleedin’ fool, Simon Riley.”

“I know.” He agrees, because he must, and then takes Johnny’s mouth again, rougher, more demanding, before his hand finds the deadbolt and slides it into place.

“It’s been a pleasure.” The realtor’s obnoxious smile grates on Simon, and he tries not to display his impatience while she speaks to the three of you. “If you’re ever in the market again, I’d love to do business with you.” She hands Johnny a card, but her fingers linger on his skin, and Simon beats back the urge to throw his body between them.

“Don’t touch him.” He snaps, the sharp crack of his tone whipping across the sidewalk to where you freeze with your eyes shuttered, lip tugged between your teeth. The realtor has the guts to look shocked, or offended, but Simon cares for none of it. In this moment, he does not care that she’s been discreet about the fact that they’re buying through a shell company, doesn’t care that she’s made last minute changes to accommodate them, doesn’t care that she’s shown every single listing that you marked down hastily this morning. All he cares about is that she keeps touching what’s his and hurting what’s his along with it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think-“

“Ya didn’t.” Johnny agrees, and you watch Simon carefully from where you stand, until you’re wrapping a hand around his waist, and laying your head against his body.

“It’s alright.” You mumble into him, your face pressed against his arm, doe eyes peeking upwards, something calm, but unsteady, reflecting in your gaze. You’re looking to him for reassurance, for him to agree and say that yes, everything is alright, and he feels a small sliver of weight lift from his shoulders.

You’re still looking to him. You trust them. You’re still here.

Johnny’s head is in his lap, freshly washed strands of mohawk laying against the bare skin of his thigh, Johnny’s hand tucked between his back and the couch. It’s the afternoon, and you’ve been at work late, and both he and Johnny are eager for you get home. Their last mission went a few days long, and they only got in an hour before you had to leave this morning.

You wanted to call in sick, but he had forced you out the door. All they’d be doing is sleeping anyway, he assured you. They needed to get caught up on actual rest.

When the front door slams, Johnny jerks upwards, an elbow supporting his weight, and Simon turns to where he believes he will see you walking past the kitchen towards them.

Except, you’re not. You’re standing in front of the door. Far enough away that he can’t read the expression on your face, but he instantly knows something is wrong. Uneasiness tugs at his gut and he shifts, pushing Johnny completely upright so they both can see you better. When he does get a better glimpse, his stomach completely sours.

You’re crying.

You’ve got a palm pressed over your mouth like you’re trying to hold it in, but you’re shaking, and tears are spilling down your cheeks.

He experiences a million emotions. Panic. Fear. Anxiety. Rage at whatever’s happened to make you feel this way.

“Darling?” He calls, standing behind Johnny, not even realizing that they’re both practically trying to vault over the couch to get to you, nearly stepping on top of one another.

He gets there first, and slowly grazes a light touch along your forearm. Your eyes are wide, and frightened, and he swallows the nausea that’s building up in his throat. “What is it?”

“There was a… a m-man.” You croak and his vision ebbs with darkness. He looks closer, and sees the red mark on your wrist, notices the way your work bag strap is torn at the top where its sewn in.

“What happened?” Johnny’s already pulling your bag free from your body, but your fingers are twisted around the strap so tightly it looks like they hurt.

“I don’t know,” you try to take a deep breath but fail, and Simon tries not to throw up. “Th-ere was a man. I thought he was homeless, and he looked sad… I- I thought he needed help but then he gra-grabbed me.”

“Where?” Johnny presses and you try to explain what street it was, but Simon doesn’t hear anything you’re saying. He’s too busy staring at your wrist, staring at the torn strap of your backpack. Someone tried to hurt you. Someone touched you. He closes his eyes and counts his breathing, lost in trying to keep himself calm until he feels a hand on the back of his neck, a thumb rubbing a soothing circle into his skin. Johnny’s thumb. “She’s alright, Si.” He whispers, to which Simon nods, snapping his eyes open. You’re still standing in front of him, head tipped back, eyes wide. He steps forward without another thought and crushes your body to his chest, nose indulgently seeking your hair so he can breathe the smell of your shampoo in as deeply as possible. Johnny doesn’t let go of his neck, just rubs gentle touches into him while he holds you, the three of you moving closer and closer into perfectly aligned orbit until he’s settling you on the couch in his lap, Johnny tucked under his arm.

Safe. You’re here, Johnny is here. You’re both safe. You’re both here.

You’re exhausted by the time they get you into bed, your body limp and pliable, face sad and confused.

“I thought he needed help.” You mumble into Simon while Johnny works on a cup of chamomile, and he holds you tighter, arms like a vice grip around your waist.

“Shhh. I know, darling. You didn’t do anything wrong.” You sniffle, skin still raw from your tears, and he presses you into your body like he wants to consume you, hide you from the world, take you away from anything that could hurt you. Simon is a killer, but you and Johnny have turned him into something more. You’ve taught Simon he has the capacity to care for something sweet, something delicate. Given him and Johnny a chance to have something good besides each other, to love in a way they’ve only dreamt about.

You sigh, and he strokes a finger down your cheek. A gesture softer than he’d ever thought himself capable of, before Johnny, before you. “Close your eyes. We’ll be right here.”

It’s later in the evening when Simon watches a crack reopen like a wound that’s been freshly sewn shut, splitting free after being pushed or pulled too much in one direction.

It happens when his phone rings. You and Johnny are in the bedroom, packing items away into boxes, wrapping fragile things in newspaper and bubble wrap, the sound of your voices carrying on floating through the hall to where he sits on the couch.

The entire flat goes dead silent when everyone hears the ringer go off. You and Johnny appear from the room like you’ve been summoned, Johnny’s hand firm around your shoulder, your eyes desperate, seeking Simon for some kind of reassurance.

Simon doesn’t need to check the caller ID to know who it is. Only one person calls him after hours. Only one person has the right to interrupt his time at home, his time with his family.

Price.

1K notes · View notes