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where-does-the-heart-lie · 7 months

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Is it so hard to ask that sabo follow his dream he had when he was a kid? IS IT??????

Also, his boat was commissioned from Franky! And he did a great job :)

Design talk:

Im gonna start with just sharing his canon designs

Colors:

Something i want to call attention to is the blue and black in his design.

When he was young, Sabo wore his heart on his sleeve. He had a dream for himself and was taking steps to complete it. Likewise, that blue on his coat is on full display its bright and vibrant and saturated. But also theres that dark blue, almost black, thats underneath it thats being hidden by that coat, the pants, and his tattered cravat. Likewise again, Sabo is hiding his darker side. He has secrets he doesn’t want his brothers to know of and he lets his aspirations and relationships he has with them outshine his past.

In his present design, that blue that was representative of his dreams, is now the one being hidden. Its covered by a complete black coat, a representative of the darkness in his life that now is drives him. This color switch up is symbolic for how he’s put off his dreams and kept it locked up (belt), while choosing instead to pursue a life of darkness for the greater good.

Also, these pictures of young sabo and young adult sabo, you can visually see how less saturated it is. The blue is duller of the coat/undershirt and even more-so with the pants. You can see how he’s much less vibrant than how he was.

In my Post-Story idea, what happens leading up to it is that Sabo succeeds in taking down the world government and after he’s sure the world can move on without him, he goes sailing alone as a pirate to write a book about the world, like he’s always wanted to do. Also, Luffy returns his straw hat to shanks.

So in my design, sabo wears a vibrant blue coat again. He’s living his dream and has nothing holding him back from doing it. The black is still used, and its not being covered, but its on his pants and his gloves. He still has that darkness, but he doesn’t use it as protection or as something to hide, rather as something he moves forwards and progresses with. He will never forget what pain and hardship he went through and he’s not trying to. However, whats underneath all the layers is not darkness or dreams, and its not necessarily being hidden either, its light. Not BRIGHT, but light. Mellow and calm. The settled true nature of a healed man.

I took more colors from his child design than i did with his young adult (YA) one, too. I wanted to show how he’s reconnecting with his younger self by bringing them through to his Post-Story look!

Also, since his journal is his dream, it is blue, as well.

———

Items of Clothing:

In both of his canon designs, there is a sense of properness. A top hat, cravat, tailcoat, etc etc.. Its all properness. But more than that, its the idea of responsibility.

Whether he acts responsible or not isn’t what matters in his case, instead its that he wants to look responsible. He wants this because a) he was a little kid who wanted to grow up too fast and be taken seriously, and b) because he has an incredible amount of responsibility being the second in command of the revolutionary army.

To further prove that, I would like to point out his silly little cravat. I love his cravat. But how the hell is that practical for his line of work? Sabo is concerned with being practical, hence his baggy/movable pants and leather gloves. Additionally, just the waist/trench coat, belt, top hat combo would suffice for a proper looking person, but it’s taken excessively with the cravat. The cravat is purely for appearances.

Further symbolism with his cravat, i think, is that this appearance is visually choking him. Its wrapped tightly around his neck when he was a child and when he was most under control of a much higher power. However, when he’s a YA, it’s a lot looser. He’s got some agency, but he’s still being suffocated by responsibilities.

On with my design.

I took away his cravat. Im sorry but it is SYMBOLIC!!!!!!! He is not worried anymore with appearances, he is Free.

I took away his top hat but not his goggles, too. I think that after Luffy gives back the straw hat, Sabo forgoes his hat as well. In solidarity, maybe. If you think about it, the top hat isnt what makes his hat so special, its the goggles. So i got rid of the hat and kept The Goggs. Although it is sad that they are no longer Hatted, as that is one of the beautiful appeals of ASL, they are no longer ASL.

I wanted to keep aspects of his YA design, since even though it is very perforative, its still a style that he’s stuck with since childhood, so he’s gotta like it in some capacity. I just tried to make everything look a lot looser/open on him.

Lastly, i gave him a bit of a beard cuz i think he deserves it.

———

Alright! If you got this far, thanks so much for reading my insane ramblings!!!! I fr feel like this rn 👇

Visually, sabo’s design is not too complex, at least not when you look at him next to Ace, but theres a lot of depth to it. I didnt even think of half of these notes before i started typing this up, its just the more time i look at it, the more i noticed!

#my art #one piece #monkey d. luffy #sabo #asl brothers #one piece fan art #sabo the revolutionary #post story au

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wroteclassicaly · 2 months

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18+

When your best-friend Steve Harrington asks you to hold his fleshlight for him.

It wasn’t really something that either of you planned on happening. But then it just did. Steve had been pent up from work all day from typical annoying patrons, smart mouthed jocks from the high school, that were freshmen when he was a senior (tenfold karma, Harrington), and Keith’s particular way of criticizing his every move out of some form of nerdy revenge. You could count on one hand the times that Steve had to bail out of your two person movie nights on Fridays (Saturdays were for dates and Sundays were for hanging with the rest of the parties and running kids around), and tonight happened to be one of those occurrences. Usually, it would be for self-care or whatever reason he needed to spend alone, but when he’d barely shed his leather jacket upon entering his house, dusting snow off of his boots — he was about to crawl out of his skin by the time his massive palm was wrapped around the receiver, thumb strangled by its cord.

He was… off? And seconds after he’d cancelled without much reason, the line went dead. You wanted to give him space, especially because he usually called back to tell you goodnight. But after being unable to sit still and finish a generous portion of the large pepperoni pizza you’d ordered the two of you, you were grabbing your keys for the journey over to his place.

~*~

It didn’t take but five minutes before you reached Steve’s house, pulling in behind his familiar car. You dangle the copy - made spare from your pointer finger, trekking your way up to the door and letting yourself in, wiping at your wind-whipped, wet eyes. You know he’s not on the first floor, its entirety dark and a little cool. So you toss your coat and keys onto the small table beside the entryway, kicking off your boots to join his on the cheesy welcome mat, and you make your way to the second floor landing to his bedroom. Seeing a buttery glow spill out from the crack in his doorway, you’d proceeded, only to be met with a sight that only appeared in your late night fantasies… and pretty much your every waking thought.

Steve is facing his mattress, sheets tousled and clothing pooled beside him, stood on the left side of his bed, naked and glistening in the perspiration of teasing, observing his massive length as he edges himself, moving the toy slowly over his cock. You know what it is, you’ve seen it in magazines and stores, in some porn. A fleshlight, they call it. Your brain goes through a million thoughts at a couple seconds to spare.

Why doesn’t he have someone here to do this with? He can get a date?

Is he okay? Obviously he’s very okay.

Holy fuck… he’s big.

Holy fuck… he’s beautiful.

A little more than usual, waiting on the summer sun to tan his freckle and mole spattered skin. His hair has grown longer, curling at the nape, his shoulder blades and biceps defined from a regular regime. And that ass, the way it flexes and is perfectly plump, connecting to those hairy thighs and big feet, his own toes curling when he twists, a wet squelch coming from the faux cunt. There’s beautiful chestnut curls scattered across him sternum and connecting to a trail that surrounds his base and those full, heavy, balls. That cock… thick, barely able to be pushed back into the toy, his fingers having to peel back its soft pink layers to help ease the slick way, decorated in a vein that matches the one running along his forearm

And you must make some sort of noise, because your lips part to let in a gasp of air, causing his body to twist in a sudden defensive stance, clenching the toy so tight with a ‘caught’ pose. You go to move and the door spills open completely, slamming back into his dresser and shaking old sports trophies. You’re panting, seeking out the words to apologize, Steve is wincing from how hard he still is, attempting to cover his modesty. But the air shifts in the room and you gain a boldness, a restlessness that won’t be satiated, nor a conscience satisfied if you don’t ask.

“Can I help you?” A customer service line from working at Scoops with him. But it comes naturally.

Steve, biting his lip, disheveled — he nods. And it’s happening. A tickling ease, a line crossed.

“C’mhere.” He’s waving with his opposite hand. His ribcage expands as he gulps in lungfuls of air.

You’re at his side shortly, shyly. “W-what do you need me to do?”

His spare hand pushes back through his hair, amber gaze gone to a midnight sky, teeth milky white, defined jawline covered in stubble, and a perfect nose. His voice is raspy when he lets you know what he needs.

“Go get on my bed, lay back for me. Please?”

A fucking gentleman.

All of your clothes feel too tight, smothering you as you lay back on his bed, his pillow immediately invading you. Your hands are unsure of where to go, but he approaches slowly, kneeling his way into kneeling by your feet. “I’m gonna… Can I use this between your legs, honey? You don’t have to do anything, just let me do all the work.” He motions to the toy and you want nothing more, suddenly offered the world.

It’s your turn to say it now. “C’mhere.”

He’s using that enriched tendon covered forearm to prop himself up beside of your head, slotting right between your knees, his remaining hand wrapped so tightly around the toy that his skin is pulled taunt over his knuckles. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, releases it, licks it, and then he’s asking, “Can I?”

“Go. Do what you need to do. I’m right here, Steve.”

If you thought the toy was loud before, the sound of him working his lengthy girth through its walls right in front of you now — it’s surround sound. You’re watching, unable to help it, bones threaten to be dusted to ash from how hard your heart is ramming beneath your breastbone.

“Wanted to come over, but it’s been a shit week, an even shitter day. And I just needed to —“

“— Release some tension, right? I get it, I do it too. I have a cock that goes… I —“ you stop your horny rambling, face feeling too much warmed.

Steve’s face scrunches, teeth gritting, and he twists the toy until slowing it almost completely. “Tell me what you do. You fuck yourself with it, right? When everything is too much and not enough? Fuck, honey.”

He doesn’t verbalize, but you don’t either, simply accept the toy and hold it against your denim covered cunt, leaving Steve’s hands free to hold on either side of you, his nose nudging yours as he leans down — here, present. You copy his earlier motions, using the toy to glide along his length as he thrusts into it with a new focussed vigor. “That’s it. You feel so good, honey. Workin’ me so right.”

“I’m soaking — fucking — wet for you, Steve. Just so you know.”

His hips stutter and his nose finds its way into your eyelashes, cheek pressing into your own. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum into this thing, and I want —“

“— You want what, Steve?” You hold your breath.

He answers without fear or pause. “You.”

// Eat me paragraph //

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yanderenightmare · 2 months

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TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, kidnapped reader, bondage, somnophilia, oral, light ass-play

fem reader

It’s Valentine’s Day, and I’m thinking about the incel who’s never celebrated with anyone…

Only… now that he has you locked up in his house all to himself, He’s going to have you treat him to all those Valentine's cliches he’s missed out on – all inside the comforts of your new home, of course.

It’s early morning, and he’s got his cock inside you before you’ve even woken up. His thrusts are sleepy, and his voice is drowsy as he says he looks forward to breakfast – that he hasn’t had anyone cook him breakfast in bed since his mom on his tenth birthday. He likes his eggs sunny-side up, his bacon crispy, his toast golden, and his coffee just a little sweet for the occasion, plus a small glass of juice on the side.

After cumming inside you, he tells you not to take too long – that he wants you back in bed, hand-feeding him before the bed gets cold.

When you get back from the kitchen, he’s picked out a romance to watch – patting your place on the bed with a big grin on his face.

The trouble in your chest is a little eased to see him happy. Though it’s sick doing these types of things with your kidnapper – you much prefer acting like his girlfriend than getting your tits, clit, and ass flogged with a leather belt.

So you curl up beside him like he gestured and hand-fed him like he’d said and laughed and awed at the movie playing out before you as if you were really enjoying yourself. And when he whispers that he’s made you breakfast as well while lifting the tray off his lap to reveal his hard-on, you hold back the wince and crawl under the covers – not a single slight leaving your lips as you wrap them around him and start sucking him off.

He hadn’t bothered wiping it with a tissue after this morning’s first, and so flakes of dried cum and soured bitterness coat your mouth in overwhelming filth, making tears well up and go dripping pitifully down your cheeks – holding back from gagging as you keep bobbing your head all pliantly while using your tongue to lave over his veins.

He sighs in bliss above the duvet, weaving both hands into your hair as he nudges his tip down further into your plush throat, so warm and wet and tight around him, milking him for the meal in his balls.

He shoots in right down to your belly when your lips kiss his base, petting your cheek while waiting for you to swallow around him. It takes everything in you not to choke on it and puke – but you’ve done it enough times now to resurface only breathless as you lay yourself to rest against his chest.

He says he’s got you a gift after having let you rest up for a little while – and drags a gift bag from under the bed. You receive it, forcing a shy smile – knowing not to expect a plushie and a heart-shaped box of chocolates but hoping for it nonetheless.

“I thought, since we can’t go outside, we’ll just have to make the most out of it in here...”

The contents of the bag make you swallow thickly – wide-eyed and goose-fleshed with trepidation.

It’s all red – but that must have been the only thing Valentine’s about it…

Red silk blindfold, red ball gag, red rope, red fluffy cuffs, and a butt plug decorated with a heart-shaped ruby.

“And as for your gift to me,” He breaks your stillness, taking your face in both hands as he lifts it to level his – giving your pout a kiss that breaks with a wet smack. “All your holes all day long is all I want.”

You’re a picture. Bite marks on your breasts, a ring of teeth around your sore nipples – also on the inside of your thighs – along with full handprints welting the soft flesh. On your back with your hands beneath you, kept there in their cuffs – legs raised and spread, tied up in the red rope – mouth sucking on your ball, all muffled whining as you wiggle – blindfold soaked a deep burgundy from the tears streaming down your face.

Your poor ass spread on the plug he’s eased inside, all cutely swallowed around the heart-shaped ruby glistening in the slick seeping from your pussy as he fucks you hard and fast and unrelentingly with a hand held tightly around your throat – moaning Happy Valentin’s Day!

BNHA – Shigaraki, Denki, Deku

JJK – Mahito

HQ – Tendou

CSM – Denji, Yoshida

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lacedinweb22 · 2 months

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Valentine’s Day ❦︎ (smutty one-shot) ❦︎⋆˙⊹ ❦︎ ⋆˙⊹ Miguel O’Hara x Fem!reader

nsfw 18+ ୨୧

You come back from work, feet sore, back sore, in need of him.

First thing you notice are the flowers on the kitchen counter. A massive assortment of red roses, with a note sticking out. “Happy Valentine’s Day, mi princesa. You’re my valentine today and everyday,” your cheeks are warm. You put the note down, slowly taking your shoes off as you look around. “Forever” by The Little Dippers leaks out of your bedroom.

You walk down the hall, slowly opening the door.

There he is. Hair tousled from running a stressed hand through so many times, a snug white button up rolled up at his forearms, muscles on display, black slacks, and a black leather belt… perfect. He’s pouring moscato into the wine glasses on the dresser, he looks up at you calmly, the calm you so desperately needed after a day like today. His eyes soften as they lay on you.

“Baby,” you exhale, walking into him. “Hermosa,” he sits the moscato bottle down, leaning down into you, breathing in the smell of your hair. You dig your face into his chest. The smell of his cologne makes you weak. His hands are snug around your waist, holding you tightly against him. You look up at him, he leans down, your lips meet in the middle.

He strokes your hair, “I’m sorry you had to work today, but I’ll make it up to you,” he whispers before kissing you again. You nod.

You lean against the dresser, he hands you a glass. It’s your favorite moscato. He keeps one hand on your waist, still holding you, as he picks up his glass with the other hand. “Happy Valentine’s, Y/N,” he smiles, tapping his glass to yours. “Happy Valentine’s, Miguel.” His eyes are on yours as you sip. You put it down, then start to take off your coat. He notices and immediately goes behind you, helping you take it off.

“Think I’m gonna change,” you mutter, moving your hair to the front, as he helps you.

You start to unbutton your blouse, but stop when he drops to his knees, slowly unbuttoning your pants. You look down at him, hands in his hair. His eyes are now on your black lace panties, as he slowly pulls your pants down. His fingers trace underneath the thin cloth on your hips, fingers massaging your skin. You don’t feel the need to change anymore. He stands back up, looking at the black lace bra now exposed under your button-up. He smirks, fangs on display, then leans down into your neck, sucking gently. His hands wrap around the back of your thighs and he picks you up like you weigh nothing.

You make out, taste the moscato on his lips. He lays you on your bed, then crawls on top of you, now hovering over you, hips touching, his hard-on pressing into your underwear. You moan into his mouth, as his fingers grip your waist tightly.

“Need you,” you moan in between kisses. He kisses your neck, “I’m here, baby, you can have me,” he mutters lowly into your skin. You look down and unbuckle his belt; he watches you, brushing the hair out of your face.

Finally, he’s in just his boxer briefs, and you can see so much through the stressed cloth. “We have reservations at 7:00,” he whispers in between kisses. “We have time,” you whisper back. He moans in your mouth as you grab him from out of his boxers, and press him against your heat.

He kisses down your neck as you pull his hips into yours, trailing down to your shoulder, pulling your blouse to the side.

He enters slowly, only half of him in you. He bites your shoulder, moaning into your skin. “Missed you, Mig,” you moan, as he slowly inches in and out of you, letting you adjust. “Missed how big you are,” you whine.

He kisses you, then slowly enters, now fully, you both moan at the pressure. He thrusts in and out, kissing you hard.

It’s slow and passionate, and you feel every inch of him intensely. He groans into your ear, “Been thinking about you all day. You feel so good, chula.”

The music is still playing on the record player; he digs his face in your neck.

He slides one hand down to your heat, rubbing at your core. “Does that feel good for you, my girl? Like that?” he groans, which you bite your lip in response, suppressing your gasps.

Perfect pressure and perfect fullness begin to bring you to your end. You start to unravel; you wrap your legs around him, bringing him closer, deeper.

He sucks on your neck, then pulls away to whisper into your mouth, “Baby, I’m gonna—”

“I know,” you exhale, slowly finishing around him.

He throbs inside of you, filling you up. You bite his lip, moans filling the room.

*im drunk AF and I’m ending it here LOVE Y’ALL so much 💌 HAPPY VALENTINE’S 💋💋💋* -G

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shoeistars · 3 months

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— NO PHOTOS ! pt. 2

༺ feat. reo, barou, rin, sae, shidou

༺ outline. where the boys keep their slutty polas of you <3

༺ w. pro!players, 18+ content, minors dni, photos/polas, fem!reader, read at your own discretion as I don’t do individual tagging for element of surprise <3

༺ pt. 1 (isagi, bachira, chigiri, kunigami, nagi)

— REO ! car dash

When Reo got his hands on his first hypercar, his main priority was keeping the thing clean. No trash, no eating inside of the vehicle, you weren’t even allowed to do your makeup when you’re playing your role of passenger princess. He just wanted to keep the interior spotless, despite the fact that he could buy as many overpriced vehicles as he fucking desired

So, when you hopped into the car one day and noticed the pola of you that he had resting against the dash of his brand new Bugatti, you were stunned. He hadn’t even put a goddamn air freshener on the rearview yet

Whenever you got around to questioning him, all he did was shrug, a smug grin on his face as he drove you to your nail appointment. After all, he got bored when he was sitting in traffic. The picture of you, perched on his California king with the prettiest bra and panty set hugging your body juuust right was worth bending a few rules over

— BAROU ! wallet

The polaroid itself was your idea in the first place. He didn’t really understand what the hell the hype was about, but he’d bend over backwards to see that pretty smile you’d give him when you got your way. Whenever he saw the photo, however, his perspective was changed immediately

You’d been hiked up onto a bathroom sink, always getting way too horny for your own good at events where attendance mattered. He’d sneak you away when you’d start touching on him and whispering dirty shit in his ear, never able to say no to his queen

Thus the birth of the pola nestled in his wallet, right beside his bank card. The view of his thick dick stretching your tightness out was too good to pass up, milky ring of cream wrapped around his base and spilling out of your hole. He just had to have it with him at all times

— RIN ! under his pillow

Pushing the pussy whipped loser boy agenda for Rin because you’re most definitely his first love, the first girl he’s ever touched, fingered, fucked. Having popped his cherry, he can’t help but be completely enamored by you. The mere thought of you gets him hard and he hates that factor to his core

Which plays into why exactly he has a nasty polaroid of you tucked under his navy-clad pillow, right where he rests his head to sleep for the night. It’s safe there, it’s within easy reach for him to fuck his fist to when you’re too far away, which is too often for his own liking thanks to away games

The photo itself is his treasure, a simple one where you’re on your bruised knees, showing him what exactly a facial is. Although he loves you most barefaced, he can’t even lie and deny that your face dripping wet and sticky with his seed isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on

— SAE ! checkbook

Weird place, sure, but there is nothing normal about Sae as a whole. In his eyes, there are three prizes in the world: wins, money, and you. The polaroid fits perfectly right where he has it

There’s nothing more rewarding to him than whipping out his checkbook to buy something big, just to be greeted with your cunt on full display, the photo clipped front and center onto the leather book cover

It’s a real looker of a photo too, his thumb spreading your glossy folds to show off the stream of his cum dripping out of your hole, coating your asshole in thick nut. All he can ever think about is how you whimpered when he licked it up after snapping the shot

— SHIDOU ! pola wall

The consequences of dating a shameless, unhinged individual consists of your nudes being shown off any and every possible chance presented to him. He’s sick, sometimes unreasonable, but you’re too goddamn pretty for him to just hide away

Hence why he’s got a nice slab of white wall in his bedroom, fully dedicated to you. He calls it romantic, of course. All sorts of polas are taped up as decoration, different positions and scenarios

Maybe it’s awkward for guests that just so happen to step into his bedroom for whatever reason, but you like being shown off, don’t you? He figured a slut like you would wanna be put on display, considering you’re just like him

#bllk smut #blue lock smut #reo smut #reo x reader #barou smut #barou x reader #rin smut #rin x reader #sae smut #sae x reader #itoshi smut #itoshi x reader #shidou smut #shidou x reader

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kentopedia · 8 days

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౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ SAFEGUARD — dazai, chuuya, akutagawa

summary . . . they save you after you've been injured and captured by an enemy.

contents . . . sfw, f!reader (chuuya & dazai) and gn!reader (akutagawa), violence / blood, threats, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, and it's pmboss!dazai bc i can't help myself — 3.5k total

notes . . . i got this request so long ago lol. not my best work, but i have been in the worst writing slump ever and just wanted to finish something. i've also never written for akutagawa before so pls be nice <3

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .

there are very few times that chuuya feels he’s been outsmarted. he knows he’s not the mastermind of the port mafia, but he certainly isn’t a fool. when it comes to you and your well-being, though, his mind short-circuits, half of his intelligence draining away while his emotions take hold.

your relationship isn’t a secret to anyone in the port mafia, which means that it isn’t a secret to your enemies either. and while most people know it’s hard to land a finger on chuuya directly, his pretty little girlfriend doesn’t have the power of a god nestled inside of her.

the rage sparks through him, growing fiercely into the blaze of a forest fire, until all he can think of is getting you home safely. he thinks of your sweet smile as he rips the door of the enemies’ base off the hinges, crushing it into a million pieces with the force of gravity.

the men are quick to react, but chuuya hurtles the crushed door towards them, knocking three of them to their feet. another group charges at him, but their guns do little against his skill. after years of fighting some of the strongest ability users, simple criminal organizations are as easy to step over like ants.

chuuya kills them all — except for one.

the man’s knees are wobbling, hand shaking around the gun as he realizes that these will be his final moments. there is fear in his eyes, brown ones that rest wide open, and chuuya almost hesitates. his remorse doesn’t last long, though, before he’s wrapping a hand around the man’s throat, thrusting him backwards.

“where is she?” chuuya asks, voice sharp and commanding.

he can feel the man swallowing.

chuuya knows that backup is probably on the way, but it won’t matter whether they show up or not. he’ll crush the rest of his enemies just as he’s crushed the last twenty men. the poor soul in his leather hold seems to know that as well.

“i-i’ll take you to her,” he rasps, dropping his gun to claw at chuuya’s hand.

he drops him, lets him take a few heaving breaths and coughs, before he’s kicking at him, forcing him back to his feet.

the young man takes him up the elevator, weaves him through a hallway as chuuya leaves a scattering of bodies in his wake, not hesitating to kill a single man that gets in his way. there is nothing that can keep him from you.

how fiercely and loyally he loves you — it drives him to near insanity.

finally, with blood coating his face and his clothes, the young man enters a room, locked with a code, revealing you.

chuuya’s rage is almost as blinding as his corruption, as he gazes at the sight of you. bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair, so visibly harmed. his hands clench into fists. “get the fuck away from her,” he says to the man who seems to be monitoring you.

“what are you doing in here?” the men left in the room panic, but they don’t have time to react before chuuya throws them back at the wall, so quickly, with so much force, that their spines snap. they hit it with a sharp crack, skulls shattering against the plaster, the wall crushing beneath the weight of them.

limply, they fall to the floor.

chuuya rushes over to you.

the young man that led him here disappears, but chuuya isn’t worried about him. he’s a coward; he’ll likely flee from the country and never look back. the men that truly hurt you are already dead, and he’ll burn this building to the ground once he’s gotten you away from it.

“hey,” chuuya says, cradling your cheeks gently, trying to coax you back awake. he’s not sure if it’s exhaustion, blood loss, or the obvious head trauma that caused you to pass out in the first place. but you’re still breathing, so he counts that as a blessing.

“hey,” he whispers again, kissing your forehead, like it will heal all your ailments. “wake up, baby. we gotta get you out of here, okay?”

it takes you a few seconds to come to, eyes glazed over and shell-shocked as you blink at him. “chuuya?” you say; your voice is so hoarse it makes chuuya want to keel over and vomit. “is it really you?”

guilt gnaws at him, almost crushing, at the fact that thirty-six hours passed, and you’re delirious enough not to recognize him. you probably haven’t eaten, either.

he should’ve been there. no one should’ve ever had the chance to hurt you, yet…

“it’s me, i’m here,” he says, kissing your lips, your temple, brushing your hair away from your face. the strands are sticky with blood. “shit,” chuuya nearly shouts, pulling a knife from his pocket, sawing through the thick ropes around you as quickly as he can. “i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry.”

he can’t get you free fast enough, and you smile at him, drowsy, your eyes fluttering shut once more. “it’s okay, chuuya,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you’re here now.”

“you have to stay awake,” he says desperately, realizing your head is still bleeding. he doesn’t know how hurt you are. chuuya’s no expert when it comes to medicine, but he’s smart enough to know that internal injuries could be even worse than the external ones.

“stay awake for me, okay, honey? i’ll get you back to the boss and we’ll find you a doctor. you’ll be just fine.”

“okay, chuuya,” you hum, weakly gripping his back. seconds of silence pass before you mutter, “i just want to go home.”

"i know." his heart pulls, and he almost lets out a cracked sob. but he refrains, knowing that there is plenty of time to drown in his sorrows later.

finally, he gets the ropes under, lifting you from the chair. you’re so much lighter, weaker, and it makes him sick as he carries you. “let’s get you home.”

𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀. . .

the call comes just as akutagawa is getting ready to head home for the evening, his tasks completed, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

normally, he doesn’t stick around to say any goodbyes, sneaking off into the darkness of the night like a shadow, blending right in. but, something about the evening, so gloomy and drizzly with spring rain, feels off.

with a heavy knot in his chest, so much different than an incoming fit of coughs, akutagawa heads back up to mori’s office, if perhaps to only ensure that everyone else’s jobs had been completed. he’s a lot of things, but he’s never been a slacker; and he’ll do what it takes to ensure that his position in the mafia is eternally secure.

though, he doesn’t have the opportunity to get all the way upstairs before he run into the boss, who is calm, but with an air of irritation clouding him.

he explains the current situation to akutagawa in a clipped tone, bored — an enemy group has kidnapped you, holding you hostage.

“how rude is it to bother a man, just as he is getting ready to go to sleep?” mori says, sighing histrionically.

but what is a minor inconvenience to mori sends an entire wave of dread through akutagawa, his entire body feeling as if it’s been dipped in ice. he can’t explain the horror that washes over him, not really, because he shouldn’t feel so panicked. it is rare for him to get worked up about the danger his subordinates find themselves in, save for his sister, of course.

but you… you’re different.

“can i trust you to diffuse the situation?” mori asks, impatiently glancing at his watch as if that will change anything. “i can call someone else, but they will not be so quick.”

akutagawa doesn’t even think before he accepts the job, hating the way he sounds pathetically desperate for more details. his hands flatten the edge of his cloak, as if his ability is going to take on a mind of its own.

he calls for a driver, calm but breathing so heavily that an aching cough rises up in him. his throat feels as if it may begin to bleed, but he swallows, glances away from the driver and gets himself under control.

there’s a ransom — bring them the money and they’ll return you, mori had told him. you’re only a lower ranking member of the mafia, and someone that makes for a pretty poor bargaining chip, so the motive is questionable.

mori probably would’ve let you die, akutagawa knows, his teeth gritting together, so much so that a splintering sound comes from it. but the boss, in his infinite, concerning wisdom, seems to also know that his loyal dog has an soft spot for you.

as regrettable as that may be.

akutagawa has no doubt that whoever the enemy is, they are no match for him. still, a twinge of anxiety settles in his stomach, fingers jittery as the driver, despite the decreased traffic of the hour, seems to drive impossibly slow.

“are we not in a rush?” akutagawa snaps, leaning forward.

“apologies,” the driver, says, not daring to even look at akutagawa from the mirror. but the car speeds up, enough for akutagawa to be able to notice, at least. it cools the simmer that has already begun deep in his chest.

even so, the car seems to go at a snails pace, minute upon minute flying by, with you in the clutches of an enemy.

akutagawa doesn’t care who they are. he doesn’t care why, or how they captured you. he wants them dead. he’ll rip them apart, easily, and he’ll make them suffer — they’ll be alive for all of it, for every second that he peels the skin from their bones, ripping the smaller ones out of their sockets.

what he feels for you… well, it’s too hard for him to admit to himself. he has no experience with what it means to care for another person, doesn’t even know if that’s his goal. he just knows he wants to protect you.

and he can’t do that if you’re dead.

finally, the car pulls up to an old warehouse, one at the very outskirts of the port, beyond the docks and the shipping carts. it’s tucked far back, an obvious lair for some villainous organization that doesn’t want to be found.

akutagawa gets there, but there is nothing. he hears nothing, feels no signs of life as he trudges through the puddles left behind from the earlier rain.

a small string of panic begins again, as he wondered if maybe the call that mori had told him was only a ruse. maybe this entire time had been a distraction, a way to lure him away. there are other skill-users in the mafia, but none quite as dangerous as him.

though, he hears it, then. a small little sound, muffled and hoarse, full of pain.

he ducks into another corner of a warehouse, and you’re there — bound with chains and a gag across your mouth, one of your eyes blackened with bruises, your nose bleeding.

his heart aches. never in his life has he so quickly made his way over, used the sharp edges of his ability to shear through the chains, falling to his knees as he unbinds the cloth from your lips.

“where are they?” he rasps, mouth opening and closing, hating the sound of his own voice. he recognizes his desperation, his anger, but the affectionate sound that clips at the end is unfamiliar, as he shakily pulls himself closer to you.

you glance up at him, eyes glossy and wide, and though you are scared, hurt, he’s so thankful you are alive. his heart flips once, as you grasp at his cloak, the material that has the blood of so many staining the threads.

“gone,” you say, throat chalky, words nothing more than a note against the wind. “they fled when they heard it was you coming.”

“and left you?” he asks, jaw clenching, as he hopes that the emotions aren’t as visible on his features as he thinks they are. “were you not a ransom?”

“no,” you swallow, hard, as if in pain. he notices bruises around your neck, the shape of fingerprints indented there. “i was bait.”

anger rises up in him like a wave, engulfing him, wholly and relentlessly. he is no stranger to that, like he is the kindness you show him, the way you look at him as if he is your protector, rather than a bringer of destruction. “i’ll go after them. where are they headed? they’ll pay, i’ll slaughter—”

“ryunosuke,” you say, reaching for him as he stands, expression pleading as he backs away. “stay.”

he has half a mind to ignore you — the enemy escaped, after all. but your voice. your eyes… you look so small sitting there, bloodied and bruised and broken.

“please,” you try again, near tears, and though he has never been good with obvious displays of emotion, something within him snaps at the desperation in the word.

he nods, slowing his pace as he returns to you, lets you wrap yourself in him, cling to him. his hands fall, naturally, to your waist, somehow knowing where they belong, even if akutagawa never has a clue what he’s doing with you.

“i’ll call hirotsu,” he says simply, before pulling out his phone, not bothering to untangle himself from you.

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .

dazai is not a forgiving man, and will never learn to be. forgiveness is not a luxury he is often able to indulge in in his line of work, and his heart has hardened enough that until the end of time, those that are branded his enemies will remain his enemies.

though, in his blackened heart, one soured over the course of time, you have carved out your own little space, lit it up with golden rays of light that are fiery enough to melt the stone casing of his chest.

his only love — his only weakness. but it is a weakness that his enemies know about as well.

dazai tries his best to keep you safe. he always has, and he knows that, sometimes, his grasp on you can be a little too tight. that the way he tries to keep you under his watchful eye can sometimes be stifling, frustrating.

but he can’t always be there to protect you. and it is in times like these, that he regrets letting you go without a bodyguard. he regrets that he listened to your insistence that you could keep yourself safe.

he should’ve at least told you to take a friend.

“boss,” his subordinate says, bowing his head, his voice pleading, desperate. “i’m so sorry. your wife—”

“if anything… anything happens to her, you will be the one responsible, do you understand?” dazai says, his eyes cold as he glowers down at the man, only a few inches shorter than him, but feeling so much smaller. “i will personally see that this act does not go unpunished.”

“of course, sir,” the man says, and he, at the very least, has the decency to sound resigned. to accept his fate and suffer the consequences, for allowing the boss’s wife to get herself into such a situation.

and dazai means it, every last word; if he finds you in a state closer to death, anyone who put you in harm’s way will be torn apart from the inside out. he isn’t able to think of anything but bringing you home safely, his hands shaking with rage as he sends more than enough people out on a search to find you.

with all the strings he’s able to pull as the mafia boss, it doesn’t take long to find you, for those that have bravely — or stupidly — used his wife as bait to come forward, and offer an attempt at some sort of negotiation.

there’s little of the conversation that dazai remembers on the phone, even less that he remembers after that. the anger bubbles up in him and grabs hold of his conscience, the emotion directing his movements with a mind of its own.

he’s already sent out every last one of his people into the field, ensuring that the organization that had the gall to threaten you is wiped off the face of the earth. deleted from every corner of the world, buildings flattened to the ground. by tomorrow, they won’t have ever existed.

today, he doesn’t care what happens as long as he finds you alive.

you’re held hostage by two men — so completely beaten that they’ve given up on any restraints. whatever they wanted from you, you seemed to refused to have given up, lip bleeding, eyes swelling so badly that you can’t even open them.

dazai doesn’t hesitate before pulling the trigger on the first man, then turning to the other, shooting the hand that holds the pistol. the man recoils, shouts, and drops the weapon completely, as dazai lands another bullet to his knee, causing him to fall.

slowly, dazai walks up, firing again to his other arm, a loud snap echoing throughout the room. the man winces, trying to crawl to the gun, one last desperate attempt to stay alive.

he kicks the gun away, watching, as, pathetically, the expression in the enemy’s face changes — any of his remaining hope vanishes.

“you told me she was unharmed,” dazai says, bending down, his coat flaring out behind him as he squats.

the man coughs, gasping for air as the blood seeps out of him. “we lied.” he smiles cruelly, and though he shares the same sort of darkness as those in the port mafia, there is something even more twisted in his smile.

dazai hums. “you the leader?”

the man doesn’t give an answer, but the slight twitch of surprise on his face is all dazai needs. he’s no one — just a grunt whose life was put on the line to guard you.

“didn’t think so.” dazai shoots him once, straight through the forehead, instantly killing him. but he is vindictive, angry, and the man he truly wants to destroy, the one who took you, is nowhere to be found. another bullet lands, tearing apart the flesh of his temple, then another, and one more, his skull beginning to cave in from the force of it all.

dazai heaves, letting the gun clatter to the ground as it runs out of bullets, and then he realizes, all this time, you’ve just been watching him. the ugliest side of him — the worst side of him.

you’re no stranger to it, of course. how can you be, when you’ve shared a life with him for years? but that doesn’t mean he wants you to see it, see how bloodthirsty he can become.

he stumbles over to you, where you’re still sitting on the ground, your wrist in your lap, bent at an angle that he knows isn’t right. bruises are littered across your skin, and your hair is matted from the blood that pools at your temple.

it takes every ounce of restraint he has to stay calm, a million feelings swirling under his skin. ones that he was never familiar with until he met you.

“i’m sorry,” he says, taking your face in his hands so, so softly, worried that he’ll hurt you even more. “i’m sorry, darling. i should’ve — i should’ve been there.” dazai notices his hands are shaking and he balls them up into fists, leaning back. “fuck. fuck — i’ll kill them all, just tell me who it was. anyone who laid a finger on you. i’ll cut them down one by one.”

“osamu,” you say, and your voice is raspy, cracking, as your unbroken arm reaches for him, squeezing his shaking hand. “i—”

you open your mouth to continue, but only tears come streaming down your cheeks, over your bloodied lips, saltiness soaking your jawline. no words don’t leave you, but a soft sob chokes itself up your throat.

“hey, hey, hey.” dazai’s voice softens, every muscle in his body relaxing as he draws you nearer to him, into his chest with a touch that’s barely there. “you’re safe. i’m here, okay? they’re not going to hurt you again, sweetheart.”

you sniffle, barely making a sound, but he can feel the tears drop onto his clothes, soaking the material.

“can you walk? are you hurt anywhere else?”

you hesitate for a moment before answering; he’s not sure if there’s a reason you only answer the first question. “i can walk.”

dazai nods, and though the rage is still bubbling there, underneath the surface, there is a coolant streaming through him at the vision of you alive. the men who did this will pay the price, but he still has you — and that’s all that matters.

thank you for reading !!! ❤︎

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eupheme · 11 days

Text

— into the fire

[series masterlist]

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 1.6k

Tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, pwp, restraints, sex for favors, rough oral (m rec.), 2 seconds of boot riding, flashbacks, sorta implied mutual pining, threatening with a gun, light degredation, spitting

a/n: please mind the tags! 💕 I heard him say ‘sweetheart’ (derogatory) and I was a goner. (Cooper is referred to as The Ghoul because I felt like he sure as hell wouldn’t have given Reader his name yet.)

“Been a long time since I’ve had mouth as sweet as yours.”

His tone then grows sharp, as the metal digs into your skin, “Don’t make me regret it.”

(Or - when you’re captured for a bounty, you make a deal.)

Your knees sink dig into the ground, with the downward gesture of his finger.

Eyes tracking the hand that now wraps around his belt buckle, then up to the tongue that traps between parted teeth.

No more than a week ago, he had lasso’d a rope around your throat. Bringing you to the ground - his weight of his hips pinning you solidly against the earth.

“There’s a bounty out for a Vaultie like you.,” The Ghoul had growled, as you bucked uselessly against him. “You know that?”

The days since were spent leashed by his side - almost like a pet, with the way he kept a handle on the rope twined tightly around your wrists.

Making you walk ahead, a sharp tug that sent you stumbling if you wandered too far.

All the while, you still felt that gaze that slipped over you.

Dipping with the zipper that had dragged down, pinched between fumbling fingers. Just wanting to feel the breeze against your skin - luxury you never had in the Vault. It lingered where the sweat beaded, nestled down in the shadow between your breasts.

If he needed permission to want you, you’d give it to him.

“You can use me,” You had told him - desperate, one night. “Whatever you want. Please, I can’t go back.”

“You best think twice about what you’re offerin’, sweetheart.” The Ghoul has rasped. A tilt of his head, as his eyes dragged over you.

You let them, your own eyes wandering as well. Across gaunt eyes and roughened skin, trying to piece together the man beneath.

Picking up on tiny things in the days that followed. Clinking spurs, his accent - akin to old programs they used to show back at your Vault. Hints that he’s been around a long, long time.

The Ghoul was terrifying in a way that thrilled you. You’d never seen someone move like he did, drawing faster than you could blink. A nightmare shrouded in a tattered leather coat, moving like a ghost.

He could rip your throat out with his bare teeth.

But he hadn’t.

You hadn’t had much to bargain with but you begin think even if you had caps - you might have ended up right here anyways.

But he hadn’t made a move to touch you.

Not until today, when your packaged water had run dry.

Until he saw the way you eyed him, envious. Another ten miles of desert road ahead, the sun following you from above and your throat growing drier with each one.

“You want some?” He asked, letting you watch the bead of water that rolled down his chin. “Then I think you know what you need to do, sweetheart.”

He’s collecting on your offer, now.

Adjusting himself, under the shadow of a crumbling building. Your thighs parting as you find your balance, fists pressing into uneven ground. The rope tied around fixed firmly under the heel of his boot, leaving you unable to use them in a manner you’d like.

The Ghoul’s hat shields his eyes, but he can’t hide the curve of his cock against his pants - the interested twitch, when he frees himself.

“Don’t get shy on me, now.” He clicks his tongue, fingers wrapped around the base, “This was your idea, after all.”

There’s a warmth pooling in your belly, as you shuffle closer. The part of your lips, the peek of your tongue against the tip.

It’s much like the rest of him. Pulled-tight pink skin, roughened and wrinkled divots. Velvety and warm, as you take him into your mouth and suck.

He swells, as your lips wrap around him. As he inches deeper, with the shallow bob of your head. Heavy against your tongue, it’s not long at all before he’s fully hard.

You try to take more, struggling with your limited balance, the full size of him. Teeth scraping against skin, when his hand twists in your hair.

There’s a ragged groan rattling in his throat - then there’s the cool press of a muzzle against your cheek, the low growling drawl of his voice.

“Been a long time since I’ve had mouth as sweet as yours.”

His tone then grows sharp, as the metal digs into your skin, “Don’t make me regret it.”

Your heartbeat thuds beneath your ribs. His message clear - fuck around, use your teeth on him, and you won’t live long enough to find out.

You don’t test him. His grip lingers, until you go loose. Eyes lifting to meet his, letting him guide you.

The tightness in him unknots as well, when you let him into your throat. A low grunt, risking a glance down to see how well you take him - an unconscious buck of his hips into your waiting mouth.

“Not even two weeks out and you’re already sucking cock,” He grits out, “So fucking eager to do it, too. You like ghouls sweetheart? Or just me?”

His voice rips into you, sending your nerves alight. He leaks against your tongue as you trace the rough skin, unable to help groaning.

“Fuck,” The Ghoul growls, “Just mine. Let me hear you say it.”

His grip loosens, pulling himself from you. Spit clinging from the head of his cock to your lips as you swallow. A hand pinching at your chin, forcing your face to stay tipped up to his as you answer.

“Just yours.”

“Good,” He thumbs at your chin until you open again, tongue waiting against your lip. Filling you slowly this time, until he’s nudging against the back of your throat. Tears prick at your eyes, as you try not to gag around him.

The slow saw of his hips picks up. It’s difficult without your hands - messy, with the way he uses you. Though there’s something about it that itches at you, deep inside.

Something that makes the tight Vault Suit feel even more constricting. More than aware of the dampness that pools between your thighs. How the sound of his groans, the tight tug of your hair in his fist makes you clench.

It’s has your thighs pressing together, as he fucks your mouth. A shift of your wrists so you can press the back of your hand against your center - easing some of the ache.

The pull of the rope beneath his boot has his eyes flicking further downwards. A cruel smile, when he sees.

“Getting off on this, sweetheart?”

You whine, and the smile widens.

“Filthy thing, aren’t you?” He drawls, with the shift of his thighs. The other boot knocks against your wrists to move them, before fitting it between your thighs. Nudging against your center, giving you something to grind against.

It’s not enough, but you both knew it wouldn’t be.

It would be too kind, otherwise. And he’s shown that he’s sure as hell not nice.

A tear tracks down your cheek with the steady roll of his hips, your nose brushing hot skin with each thrust.

Your eyes shut - mindless, a soft buzz in your throat as you moan around him. Focused on his breath, how it grows short and panting and ragged.

Until he’s pulling himself from you with a grunt, his fist wrapping around his length.

“Unzip, darlin’.” He growls, as he works himself, “As much as I’d love to fully use that pretty mouth of yours, I ain’t about to share my RadAway.”

It takes you a second to catch the zipper on your Vault Suit, dragging it down. From your sternum to your abdomen - revealing the worn, white cotton of your bra, the inches of smooth skin beneath.

A hand frees from his grip in your hair. Touching you again, yanking at your suit and bra until it bares the tight peaks of your nipples.

“Goddamn,” He growls, “Just look at you. Bet you’re nice and messy beneath that suit.”

Fingers cup the weight, before he’s pinching down. Eliciting a soft moan, as his eyes sweep across your face - soft and half-lidded as you watch him.

“Should’ve just fucked you. Would’ve taken me so well, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” You breathe - imagining it. Bent over one of the broken tables inside. His cock buried in your cunt instead of your mouth.

The moan he makes sounds feral - bitten back between clenched teeth. His other hand sliding to wrap around the back of your neck, holding you in place as his fist tightens.

“Look at me,” The Ghoul commands, and you do. Meeting his gaze with pupils that are blown wide, watching how pretty and ruined you look as he comes.

His groan is long and low as he spills across your cheek. The next against your lips, then chin. The jerk of his fist working himself empty across your breasts, until you’re marked thoroughly with him.

Smeared sticky against your skin, leaving you empty and aching as he admires his work. A whine when The Ghoul tucks himself away, his hat tipped down low again.

“Oh,” He mocks, “You think I forgot?”

For the briefest moment, you think he means to touch you. To ease your need - or offer something to clean yourself with - but instead he’s pulling the canteen from his bag.

“Open.” He commands, before he’s taking the last remaining pull.

The protest is caught, as his hand grips your cheeks. As your lips part, like he told you to.

His jaw rolls, pooling the water against his tongue. And with the dip of his head - he spits.

This time, you swallow.

Nothing more was said, after. A cut-up scrap of cloth from his pack, tossed at you. He still clings to your skin, beneath the suit.

But as you start traveling again - as a crop of building rise up along the horizon in the north, that you realize -

You’re pretty certain the path has changed.

ahh I just finished Fallout! What did you all think?? I loved it, and I can’t see what they do with Cooper’s arc in s2 (and of course everyone’s, I loved Lucy as well!) (And would love to know what you thought about this, as well! I have thoughts on a follow-up if there’s interest!) 💖

#he’s so MEAN I loved his character #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout smut #fallout series #fallout #amazon fallout

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carstylein · 2 years

Text

Car Interior Wood finish Service in Delhi | CarStylin

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aemonds-sapphire · 1 year

Text

Persuasion

Summary: Aemond protects those he cares about ruthlessly. You are no exception. So he will have the truth, or someone’s head. Maybe both.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW. Overprotective Aemond. Edging. Orgasm denial. Oral sex. Breeding kink (implied)

Word count: 2k

“Do not tell Prince Aemond.”

“Do not worry, my lady. My lips are sealed,” Grand Maester Mellos bowed lightly, gathering his ointments and bandages.

“Do not tell Prince Aemond what?”

By the door frame stood Prince Aemond Targaryen, arms crossed, and a dangerously calm look on his face.

Maester Mellos knew better, and Aemond’s seemingly composed demeanor was not to be trifled with.

The old man froze in place, glaring at the young prince as if he’d suddenly grown a third arm.

Clearing his throat, he greeted with a bow. “Prince Aemond… welcome back.”

He turned his eye to you. “I’m waiting.”

You huffed in annoyance, knowing far too well that he would turn something trivial into an unnecessary ordeal.

Because as far as Aemond Targaryen was concerned, your safety was paramount, and he would not have it any other way.

“Thank you, Maester Mellos,” you smiled warmly, trying to ease his nerves.

He merely hurried to make his way out, but Aemond barred the door, eyeing the man in front of him with a deadly stare.

“Aemond,” you called out, shifting to sit on your bed.

The Targaryen prince clicked his tongue, eventually stepping to the side. “Hmm.”

The poor old man was now visibly shaking, and nearly made a run for it once the pathway was made clear.

“That was uncalled for,” you half-scolded.

The door shut behind him, and he came to take a sit by your side, his face twisted into a serious expression. “What do you not want me to know, then.”

But before you could reply, his eye landed on your hands and you could swear you saw a hint of rage crossing his face.

“Who did this to you?” Poison coated his low voice, sending shivers across your spine.

He took your bruised hands in his, closely inspecting the damage to your knuckles.

It looked far worse than it felt. “I was sparring with Ser Criston. Just for fun,” you revealed, meeting his eye. “It was nothing much. This will heal soon.”

“He did this to you?” he sounded uncharacteristically… calm.

“No.”

Aemond’s tender fingers wrapped around your wrists, anger slipping through the cracks. “Then who?”

It would be much easier to give into the pressure, but you knew fully well that if you were to reveal who had been on the receiving hand of your fist, he’d simply storm out, not caring that the short amount of time you had to spend with with would be ruined.

“Let's forget about this for tonight,” you said, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. “I've missed you so much.”

Aemond rose to his feet, arching an eyebrow. “Should I go ask Maester Mellos, then? I’m sure he’d be much willing to talk.”

Rolling your eyes, you held him in place by tugging at his leather coat.

“Leave the poor man alone and fuck me instead.”

You pulled him towards you by his pants, slightly wincing as pain shot through your bruised hand.

“Tell me who it was.”

Deciding to ignore him, you parted you legs to accommodate him, resting your chin on his stomach. “Prince Aemond… I need you,” you pouted.

The hold you had on the young prince was such that had Queen Alicent fear that it might break her beloved son.

And nothing pleased you more than knowing you could bend him to your will with just the right amount of persuasion.

It didn't take long before he started panting lightly as you began caressing his crotch through the fabric, enjoying your touch and how you so skillfully and rapidly had his cock harden.

His eye fluttered shut, and he removed each layer of clothing from his body, until he got to his pants.

“Do not stare at me like that. I might lose it,” he groaned, bringing his thumb to caress your lips.

Your walls reflexively clenched around nothing, and you felt your clit swell in anticipation.

His toned torso gleamed of a faint mix of warm colours that emanated from the candles spread around you, and you couldn’t help to place the softest kiss on the think hair of silver that spread below his navel.

Aemond undid his pants to ease the tension on his cock before tossing the garment aside.

“Will you not tell me?” he asked, slowly dropping to his knees as your eyes were fixed on his thick and leaking cock.

With both hands on each thigh, he further spread you apart, dragging the fabric of your chemise up your legs, revealing your most intimate parts to his hungry gaze.

You knew what came next, and readied yourself by leaning back, supporting your weight with your arms.

Aemond pressed soft kisses up your inner thigh until he reached your folds.

He was staring intensely at you. “Last chance to tell me, my lady.”

You could feel his breath on you. “What does that mean…”

“Who hurt you?”

Aegon had been the one to meet your fist after he decided it would be smart to badmouth his brother in front of you. Not even Ser Criston Cole moved to defend the future king. He had deserved it.

But the last thing on your mind was Aegon and his ridiculous antics.

Aemond did not answer your question, as he pressed a kiss to your folds.

“How is it so swollen already?” he growled, parting your folds to reveal your throbbing clit. “Do you like me on my knees that much?”

He had such a way with words that you reckoned you might be pushed over the edge from the sound of his voice and lewd words.

You bucked your hips into him as you felt his tongue prodding at your entrance for a brief moment before he dragged it to lick your clit.

The sight of having the young prince hungrily eating you was enough to ignite the coil in your lower abdomen.

His tongue slipped inside you, as his nose was pressed against the sensitive bud, teasing it with each slurp.

“Right there… Gods…” you threw your head back in sheer pleasure.

The pressure on your lower half was such that you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Aemond…”

Just as you we were about to plunge into blinding bliss, you felt him draw away from you. The immediate loss of touch earning a strangled cry from you, your clit demanding attention again.

At first, you thought it was merely his intent do shift positions, so he could be buried deep within you and having your walls contract around him from your release.

However, by the time he was on top of you, dragging the thing underside of his cock along your folds, yet refusing to enter you, that’s when you realised something was off.

“Please… please…” you nearly yelled, wrapping your legs around his waist to increase the friction.

But Aemond paid no mind to your pleas, and kept rolling his hips while sucking gently on your neck.

The moment he heard your gasps getting louder and breathier, he halted, kissing away the tears that had started to flow from the overstimulation.

He lifted his hips as to avoid his cock from touching you at all, and you felt the urge to smack him.

“What are you doing,” you cried out, vision blurry and chest heaving rapidly.

He pressed his lips to your cheek in such adoration, that your heart skipped a beat.

“Do not underestimate my feelings for you,” whispered in a warning tone. “I would start a war for you.”

Others might brush that aside as an overstatement, but Aemond Targaryen did not utter empty threats.

That revelation sent you pushing your hips to his, urging him to have his cock on you once more.

Suddenly, his lips twisted into a mischievous smile, as he suddenly pinned your arms above your face.

You eyes widened in utter shock. “Aemond….”

“It seems we are in a bit of a predicament, lady wife,” he purred, lips nearly touching yours. “You seek release, but I shall not give it to you until you tell me who hurt you.”

At this, you tried to wriggle away from his grip. “Oh… fuck you!”

“I want that, too,” he said teasingly. “But first, you need to tell me a name.”

He chuckled at the evident agony in your eyes stilling your hips with other hand.

“And you will not be able to have your release by yourself without your hands,” he said, giving your wrists a squeeze. “Your choice.”

Your clit throbbed desperately in between your folds, craving his touch, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek at the sight of his cock drippings strings of precum onto your abdomen.

He was just as desperate to have you, and you were perplexed that he had such self control.

Seeing that you refused to cooperate, he lowered himself into you, his cock pressed down on your clit as your folds enveloped it.

“Gods… just move…” you growled in despair, tugging at your hands in an attempt to break free from his grip.

Surprisingly, he did as you asked, rolling his hips slowly. You tried to mimic the motion just so you could get to your point of no return.

But Aemond knew your body too well. He knew exactly what made you tick, and how your body would respond.

He stopped moving at once, heaving a frantic wail from you as your release got put on hold once more.

“Aegon! I threw a punch at Aegon,” you blurted out in between sobs as your sensitive clit throbbed against his cock. “He was uttering nonsense about you and—”

“You punched my brother?”

You opened your eyes to see surprised on his face, with a hint of amusement. He then released the grip on your wrists and brought one of your hands closer to his face, rubbing your sore knuckles with his thumb.

“That’s my girl,” he laughed, planting a kiss on each knuckle. “You should have told me right away.”

You rolled your eyes. “And you would have gone after him. I want you here… with—”

He immediately cut you off with a burning kiss, and just as quickly, he angled his hips to bury himself inside you.

The overstimulation and denied releases had left your body so sensitive that it was as if everything stung and you had to bite your lip hard to muffle your cries.

He ground mercilessly into you, breaking the kiss and removing the eyepatch.

“Look at me.”

You were met with the sapphire in place of his left eye, and knew that he was close the moment his arms faltered, and he nearly collapsed on top of you, speeding up and gripping your hips as he pumped in a final broken rhythm.

Taking your face in your hands, you had your lips caress the long scar, knowing fully well he had grown used to you showing him how much you adore every single inch of him.

“So tight…” he groaned.

You then watched in marvel as his mouth fell open in a quick hiss as he stilled inside you, filling you to the brim.

Feeling his cock twitching inside you violently as he spilled his cum inside, drove you over the edge until your vision blurred in waves of colours, tearing the room with a sharp cry of pleasure.

Aemond managed to regain some composure as he lifted your lower half and placed a pillow underneath your backside.

“Stay like this for a while,” he said, slowly sliding out of you.

Your breathing came out in erratic pants and you felt him gently pushing inside some of the cum that had spilled with his fingers.

At this pace, it would not be long before your belly would start to swell with his child.

He caressed your face with his hand, as he brought his lips to press a loving kiss to your sweaty forehead.

“Avy jorrāelan.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could return the gesture, Aemond slid off the bed, rapidly getting dressed.

“Where are you going?” you asked, shifting to your side, a gush of cum spilling from you.

“On my way to behead my dear brother.”

You groaned in exasperation. “Aemond!”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #aemond x you #aemond x reader #hotd smut

11K notes · View notes

makeyoumine69 · 1 year

Note

Love ur writing it always makes me so happy when you post

For the celebration can you do breeding, belly bulge, and loss of innocence/virginity please 🥵🥵

Obsession

◥ PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

◥ SUMMARY: When your father told you that you were going to marry the son of his biggest business partner, named Patrick Bateman, you didn't believe him at first, but eventually you had to face reality and accept your destiny.

◥ WARNINGS: Smut, hurt /comfort, forced marriage, forced pregnancy (kinda), loss of virginity, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, nipple play/tit sucking, teasing, vaginal sex, creampie, belly bulge, Breeding kink, Praise kink, Innocent kink, Size kink, sweet dirty talk, multiple orgasms, humiliation, manipulation, pet names, horny hubby!Patrick Bateman himself.

◥ WORDCOUNT: 4.1k

◥ SONG REC: Mariah Carey - Obsessed🖤

◥ A/N: Finally, I managed to finish this prompt. I really enjoyed writing it, thank you so much for this request, I hope you like it!

◥ LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [BWC MASTERLIST].

You were so scared and lost that you couldn't really believe it was happening - you wished that marrying Patrick Bateman was just a dream... but it wasn't. It all felt so real when after the super luxurious wedding, you rode in his limo to the Plaza Hotel for your first night together. Because the whole situation between the two of you was so rushed, you didn't even have time to get to know each other better, your father was too impatient and he wanted this marriage to happen as soon as possible. However, you remembered Patrick since you were children and all the girls around were always so charmed by him, even when he was just a little cheeky boy.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Patrick suddenly asked, placing his large palm on your knee.

With a sharp gasp, you shrugged from his unexpected touch and turned to face him, holding for a moment to admire his beautiful, brown eyes.

“Nothing.” You replied, breaking eye contact with him once you noticed you were staring at him for too long.

You heard him letting out a tired sigh, and then Bateman tried to cuddle with you a bit, wrapping his arm around your slightly shaking shoulders. “I know that everything seems to be a bit messy but…”

"It doesn't seem like it, but it really is," you looked at him again, his face so close to yours that you had to hold your breath. "Literally…everything."

"Baby, please. Don't interrupt me, okay?" Patrick tried his best to be patient and polite, but you could feel his hand tightening on your back with each passing moment. "Things are really messed up, but I want to assure you – if you can be a good wife, I'll be a great husband to you. That sounds like a good deal, doesn't it?"

Shivering from being so close to him, you almost writhed in your seat when you felt his searing lips brushing behind your ear as he murmured something soft, something soothing, but you couldn't concentrate as the meaning of his words slipped away from you like a leaf in the wind.

“Pat-Patrick, actually … there’s one thing I didn’t tell you yet,” you mused nearly audible. “You know, I’ve never been close with anyone.”

“What do you mean?”

As soon as you opened your mouth to respond, the limo stopped and you both looked into the window to see the beautiful illumination of the Plaza.

“Oh thank God, we’re finally here … I really hate NY in this time of the day, because of these fucking traffic jams.”

Bateman’s rants still resound behind your back even when you got outside. Gently, he held your waist for support as you moved to the entrance to the grand hotel, your hand kept fixing the hem of your massive dress.

It was not surprising that Patrick chose a luxury presidential suite for you, with large rooms and high ceiling above. You couldn't hide your fascination and that made him smirk loftily whilst he was helping you to remove your half-coat. Little by little, you moved to what was supposed to be a living room and took a seat on the huge black leather couch, suppressing growing anxiety inside your chest.

“Do you like this place?” Patrick looked at you before letting out a short whistle, removing his jacket.

“Yes, it’s really nice.” Smiling timidly, you clutched at the skirt of your dress once you saw him coming closer.

“Uh, you always loved fancy things, darling,” he sat next to you, throwing his leg over another and placing his hand on the back of the couch, almost touching your shaky shoulders. “Well, nothing's too good for my wifey.”

His kiss on your lips was so sudden that it sent a million chills down your spine, causing your lungs to cramp from the lack of oxygen. At first, you clawed frantically at his solid biceps as you felt his hot tongue slide against your mouth in a demanding manner. You jolted once you gave him what he wanted, because this kiss was nothing compared to the one you shared at the wedding - it was much more passionate, but still you couldn't relax.

“Pat-Patrick, please … wait,” you whispered as your voice shook, searching for his brown eyes which now were dark as a midnight sky. “You must know one very important thing.”

“What is it, my dear?”

"I'm..." you stuttered from the way he was staring at you, his hungry gaze literally eating you alive. "I'm a virgin, Patrick."

He frowned for a moment, then laughed uproariously before pulling up the hem of your dress, messing with its countless layers. "You can't be serious."

His reaction really embarrassed you, so you just pushed his big palm away and got up, leaving him on the couch with a disappointed grimace on his face.

"Hey! Where are you going?" He asked annoyingly, his golden Rolex wiggling on his wrist as he raised his hands in confusion.

"I want to get off this dress and change into something else," you complained, trying to reach the ties at the back of your dress to undo them. "I hate it!"

It was as if he hadn't even noticed your ranting when he rejoined you: "And what about that guy from college who was hovering around you like a fucking shark? Poor guy missed his chance to get a bite of a delicious pie like you?"

Gritting your teeth, you shrugged at the unpleasant sensation and shouted: "Don't you dare talk about him like that!"

He chuckled again, in his natural haughty way. "He was always a loser, and I always knew you would be mine."

You were almost done with the ties, but as soon as you heard his last words, you froze, feeling something snap in your mind. "What did you just say?"

Bateman's grin grew even wider as you turned to face him, with an unhidden dread in your eyes. "I said I always get what I want..." He stood up and walked over to the large coffee table near the couch, taking a glass and pouring some red liquid into it. "Wine?"

When you didn't answer, he took a sip of alcohol before continuing his malicious confession: "As you probably remember, my dear (Y/N), my father wanted me to marry," with every word he said, Patrick was slowly closing the distance between the two of you. "And he also wanted me to have an heir. The American dream family, that really works best for a good social reputation".

He paused, standing almost face to face with you, you could feel his expensive perfume enveloping you like a mist. “And?”

Your curiosity made him sneer with delight, so he cupped your cheek and looked down at you, murmuring softly as if trying to lull you into a fake sense of comfort. "And then there was a business meeting with your father where I remembered you as the ideal candidate to be my wife," he smiled almost lovingly, stroking your cheekbone and placing a tender kiss on your temple. "Too bad you couldn't see the look on your father's face when we talked about it, he was as happy as if he'd won a fucking billion dollars."

Stifling the immense pain in your heart, you closed your eyes and almost fell into his embrace from the feeling of being so miserable in this selfish world. His words only proved your thoughts about being just a figure in another chase game of your dad, and according to what Bateman just told you - your father won a jackpot by forcing you to marry the son of his biggest business partner.

“But to be fair, I didn’t expect to be that lucky …” he murmured before pulling you closer, his hands traveling around your lower back. “… to get such an innocent flower.”

When Patrick kissed you on lips again, you didn’t even struggle as the dark void inside your soul was consuming all of your thoughts and feelings, leaving you completely empty. With no rush, Bateman was undoing the rest of the ties on your dress as if he was unwrapping his most desirable gift. Your throat shivered in a choked gasp, as your body was traitorously responding to each touch he made, especially when his large palms ran across your boobs to give them a slight squash.

"Baby, you don't have to be afraid of me." His suddenly charming voice sounded like honey, so sweet and stringy.

"I'm not afraid," you stared up at him, catching his hands that were now caressing your thighs. "I'm so... so fucking disappointed."

"It's understandable."

"But not for you," you scowled a bit, biting your lip to keep the salty tears from welling up in your eyes. "I'm just a toy for you... just like for my beloved father."

Suddenly Patrick's eyebrows knitted, making him look a little frustrated. "No, you're not."

"Enough lies," you wanted to push him away, but he only held you tightly, forcing you to keep eye contact with him. "This is all so fake!"

"Maybe everything around us is fake, but we are not..." he gently traced a finger along your cheek, moving down to outline your trembling lips. "We're real, and when I said I'd take care of you, it wasn't a lie."

The way he looked at you was literally captivating, it caught you off guard and you couldn't help but breathe out sharply as his plump lips nestled against the sensitive spot on your neck.

"Pat... Patrick," your hands clung to his shoulders as you desperately searched for protection, and your inner nature told you that he could do it - his strong arms were like a shield between you and the whole world. "I really want to make it work, but..."

Bateman didn't allow you to finish, pressing his thumb against your mouth and then lifting you up as if you weighed nothing as he walked into the big, fashionable bedroom. Shaking slightly, you closed your eyes from the sense of unreality that clouded your mind like the strongest alcohol.

Did he just say he was going to take care of you?

The man you had always known as a total egoist, who loved no one but himself, now covered your small frame from above as he laid you on the king-size bed, planting little kisses on your cheek before settling on his knees, undoing his tie and unbuttoning his white shirt.

"You look gorgeous, (Y/N)," he mused, taking your leg to peck at your ankle, causing your back to arch at his unexpected tenderness. "As you always do."

Cautiously, Patrick slid down your luxury wedding dress, exposing your bare skin that was not hidden under your beautiful white lingerie - just a glimpse of it made him swallow hard, and when you gave him your most innocent look, he licked his lips briefly as his nostrils began to turn red.

Panting barely audibly, Bateman stood on the floor to remove his clothes, not wasting a moment to admire your embarrassed face, the more naked he became, the more noticeably you began to fidget.

"Come here, darling." He purred like a cat and beckoned you over to sit on the edge of the bed.

There was something sweet about him, as all the girls always said when they saw him, which was probably the reason why you couldn't resist him as you obeyed and knelt beside him, waiting for his next move.

“Babydoll,” he stroked your cheekbone, and you closed your eyes again from the blissful sensation of his warm palm. “Tonight, I’m gonna guide you into the world of pure pleasure … ”

You shuddered at his promise as your insides tightened like a spring - that strange sensation was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"You'll never be the same after this, sweetheart." Bateman crooned, wrapping his hand around your neck, not to hurt you, but to make you feel his unspoken dominance.

“A-ahh,” your low moan caressed his ears and that was one of the most delighted things he ever heard. “What do you want me to do?”

Your hasty question impelled him to humm in absolute adoration, as Patrick drew near your mouth to kiss you hungirly, never in your life someone was kissing you like that, sucking on your lips one by one and biting them a bit, making you literally melt in his strong arms.

"Be yourself, (Y/N)," he whispered into your ear, hugging your shoulders before pushing on them determinedly, and now you were sprawled on the bed beneath him. "You're incredible just the way you are."

Trembling, you wanted to scream as his words worshiped your broken soul, even if he was only doing it to befuddle you and get what he wanted - in that moment, you didn't care as the strange, burning desire grew from the inside, corrupting your innocent mind by the second.

Delicately, Bateman darted his soft fingers against your belly, sliding them up to your heavy breasts, teasing your nipples with light strokes, you gasped from that contact, creasing the blanket and spreading your legs that allowed him to rest himself more comfortably.

“Good girl,” he praised you and pulled down the straps of your lingerie to expose your extremely hard peaks. “Mmm … my sweet, little girl.” He gave one of them a few licks, before he took it into his hot mouth, sucking it with pure delight.

“A-aww, Gosh … ” You wailed and enfolded your arms around his head, not even realizing you were pressing him closer.

Patrick exhaled a muffled groan and switched to your other nipple, swirling his wet tongue around it so deliciously that the tight knot in your lower abdomen was begging to be released.

“Patrick! P-Patrick please!”

“Mmm, honey, you have amazing tits,” he huffed and trapped your swollen tip between his sharp, white teeth, forcing you to freeze in silent moan of pleasure. Seizing the moment, he sneaked his long fingers between your legs to grope your taut lower lips. “Fuck, you’re soaking wet and we have only just started.”

Breathing heavily, you look up at him from under your lashes with your dazed eyes, feeling his soft finger pads slide up and down your feverish pussy. Bateman stared back at you, smirking in his arrogant way, especially when you jerked beneath him as he slipped a thumb inside your panties and pressed it against your sensitive nub.

"No one's ever touched you like this before?" Patrick asked, rubbing your clit steadily, forcing you to bend your legs into knees to give him more space to play with.

You tossed the pillows around to cover your face and just nodded, feeling his ministrations becoming more and more insistent, you didn't know how long you could stand it.

"Mmm, does that feel good, baby?" He watched you from above, admiring the view of your trembling body as his fingers slid over your cunt like clockwork, making obscene, sleek noises.

"A-arrh, yes ... mmm ... so good."

To be fair, Bateaman knew what you were going to say before you answered, because he was absolutely confident in his sex skills, and you would remember this night for a long time.

First, he left a light kiss on your side, passing your rib bones as he descended to your mound, leaving a wet trail of hickeys. Fondly, Patrick opened your hips wide apart, and he had to hold them securely as he pushed your underwear aside. You winced because you knew what he was going to do, and when he finally latched his plump lips against your blushing clit, you didn't know whether to stop him or explode right here - his skilled tongue left you with no choice.

"Mm-mmhm, ohhh God, I can't... I can't, Patrick! It's too much," you writhed on the bed, the tension in your womb too intense for you to bear. "P-Please ... ah, please ..."

Uncertain of what you were pleading for, you let him strap your legs over his broad shoulders as he lapped at your cunt without stopping, sucking your burning flesh and consuming your sweet juices like his favourite dessert. You were so fucking close to combustion when a sudden sharp pain ripped through your body, causing you to shriek in agony.

"Shh, it's all right ... I need to prep you, (Y/N)," he smooched the inside of your hip, slowly pushing his thin fingers into your spasming cleft. "Hang in there, baby. Will you do it for me?"

His voice was so soothing, so convincing. As you wiped away your tears, you saw him offer you a hand and you took it, letting your fingers intertwine. Patrick interpreted this gesture as a 'yes' and the next moment his lips found their way back to your clit, flicking it with his warm tongue and sparingly pumping your pussy with his expert fingers.

As much as he attempted to be gentle, it was still painful as he plunged deeper with each passing second. "Mmm, I..." you stammered as you felt him add another finger. "I'm scared, Patrick."

"Don't be," Bateman mused after tugging on your little tip with a squelch, slowly twisting his digits and looking at you from between your legs. "As long as you're a good girl for me, you've got nothing to worry about."

Swallowing hard, you closed your eyes from the stinging sensation of your shimmering tears. You knew there was no going back, you belonged to this man now and he could do whatever he wanted with you. Still, you tried to believe him, it might be naive and stupid, but... you just couldn't deny your sympathy towards him, especially when he treated you so kindly and lovingly.

Maybe one day you would regret it, but for now all you could do was whimper loudly and writhe on the king-size bed in the most expensive suite at the Plaza Hotel as your lawful husband was about to make you his, now and forever.

After a while, your taut body couldn't take any more of the crazy mix of pain and ecstasy that was intoxicating your mind - you orgasmed so vividly that you were afraid you were going to pass out from the feeling of your inner walls pulsating again and again.

"Yes ... just like that, honey," Patrick murmured, his fingers still pounding into your spasming cunt, prolonging your climax and it seemed you were about to cum again. "Ahhh, baby, you make me so proud."

"Patrick..." your chest rose and fell so abruptly that your face burned from the heat, as if someone had poured hot tea on you. "Mmm..."

You only managed to squeak out as Bateman suddenly rolled you over, forcing you to stay on your knees as he sat behind you. Shit, he was so huge, you felt so tiny in his arms, especially when he wrapped them around you to plant a sloppy kiss on your neck, he could feel the artery beating so fast.

"You'll like it, believe me," he chuckled softly before pushing down on your back to bend you over. "It will hurt, I admit, but not for too long."

At the very last moment, a creeping fear took over your mind and even after several orgasms he had worked you up, you couldn't relax, knowing the pain to come. Nervously, you bent down to rest your head on your crossed elbows, his hot flesh poking at your tight little hole. God, he was so big... you knew it from the time you danced close together at your wedding, your inner channel clenching around nothing in anticipation of what would happen next.

"(Y/N)," he called your name longingly, stroking his full length as he spread your wetness around his engorged head. "I've never wanted someone as badly as I want you now."

Bateman lowered himself to lick your neck, and then you screamed loudly as he began to thrust into you, gripping your hips tightly as you instinctively tried to slip away.

"Pat! Mmm, I'm so f-full, Goshhh," you tried your best to hold yourself back from crying, but the tearing sensation in your lower abdomen was too much to handle. "W-wait!"

"Almost there, darling," Patrick lied, as it was only the tip, but he didn't want to make the current situation any worse, so he decided to just keep going, ramming into you with more effort, grabbing you by the waist and almost digging his fingers into your delicate skin. "You're doing so well, mmmm ... F-fuck, you're so tight, baby."

Bateman really tried to control himself, but the way you embraced his thick cock was too blissful, it brought out his inner beast faster than he thought.

"Aaa-awww, so... so big, oh mmmm," your eyes rolled back in your head as he buried himself completely into your squeezed womb, your saliva dripping uncontrollably from your mouth. "Ah! It hurts..."

Without hesitation, Patrick leaned down to your neck and tongued your earlobe in order to soothe you a little, and when that didn't help, he cupped your face to bring you closer as his red-hot lips locked with yours. Passionately, he attacked your mouth, sucking and licking your tongue with a slurpy sound.

"You will give me a child, sweetheart," Bateman muttered in a demanding tone before forcing you to sit on your knees and covering you from behind. "A beautiful son..." he thrust deeper, holding you by the neck. "...or a daughter...or both."

The sounds of flesh meeting flesh mixed with the squelching your pussy made each time his beefy shaft moved in and out of your inner channel, relentlessly hitting your cervix with its tip.

"Yes, P-Patrick ... I'll do anything you ... want ... aaaww!" Your ability to speak diminished each time he rocked into your body, pressing you closer to his solid muscles as he settled more comfortably on his knees beside you.

"Of course, you will, baby girl."

Bateman was about to lose it at any moment from the way your tight hole was squeezing his dick, and your lascivious moans only encouraged him to fuck you harder and faster.

"Do you feel that love?" Patrick put his hand on your belly, impaling you relentlessly on his thick cock. "Can you feel my dick hitting your belly? Arrgh-fuck, you're so delicate and fragile ... I'm even afraid of breaking you."

After his brief confession, Bateman took your palm and placed it on your tummy, so you could sense the outline of his huge dick sliding inside you, and that sensation literally made you choke on air.

"I feel it ... Patrick, I f-feel it ... aaah," you threw your head back, resting it on his sturdy shoulder. "Patrick..."

You mumbled his name over and over as a saving mantra, your eyes now full of tears, and as if that was not enough, his hips began to slam into yours with increasing intensity. For a moment you found yourself fading away from the tremendous sensation of being so fucking full and abused that you couldn't even pronounce a world, only moaning wildly as you were fucking like animals, so ruthless and totally out of control.

"F-Fuck, I'm gonna make you pregnant again and again, mm-my dear wifey," he suddenly lowered his palm down your mound to rub your oversensitive bud, smearing your slick all around your pubic area and causing your legs to tremble frantically. "Shit," he felt you clenching around his dick as you climaxed so abruptly from his rubbing circular movements. He watched you quiver in his arms, your mouth paralysed in a silent cry as he kissed your temple and contemplated: "I wanna see your belly swell with my child ... I bet you'll look so beautiful, ahh-fuck."

Growling, Patrick closed his eyes from the surging ecstasy that soon consumed him, causing his whole body to cramp and his thrusts to become absolutely raw but ragged. As he pumped his fertile seed into your pussy, he didn't stop ramming into you, holding you tightly in his muscular arms until he was spent to the last drop. The feeling of warm cum filling you from the inside was so overwhelming that you didn't have time to be afraid, as if it was destined to happen before you could even think.

‘Just be a good wifey for him,' kept nagging at the back of your mind, your tears falling on your sweaty body as your eyes were wide open, staring at that one spot on the ceiling above with bitter sorrow in your chest.

From now on, you would never belong to yourself again. Not ever.

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale

5K notes · View notes

friedchickenluver · 6 months

Text

n2deep | full-length smut | modern!adult!zuko x f. reader

warning(s): sloppy oral sex (f. receiving), 69 position, mating press, rough sex, light spanking, squirting, dirty talk, car sex, implied recording, belly swells, dick imprint, cervix kissing, choking, ghetto ass bondage, breeding, overstimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), rimming, anal thumbing, not proofread and I can barely write dialogue without cringing

wc: 2k+

notes: yeah i decided to post it on here.

•𑁍•

Zuko is the type of person to have and take you anywhere, all he needs is you and your body and the both of y'all were all set. Currently, your pussy is now being scrubbed over the landscape of his face, eating you out like some starved man. He had you upside down, face down and buried against his own burning arousal, hands gripping the middle of the console to keep you from falling forward, knees kneading into his toned chest and your feet being thrown over his shoulders. A familiar sensation of his smooth tongue slapping itself raunchily in between your lips, licking a prolonged stripe up from your very front making it to the very middle of your ass. He sucked in his cheeks rimming around your hole carelessly sucking in your muscles with help of an eager mouth slurping back up and reusing his bubbled up saliva.

You made a screwy noise once he slapped the sensitive flesh of your ass, every pop of his mouth going straight to a throb in your dripping clit. Your stomach churned up the heat of an oncoming orgasm, subtly mouthing at his dick to lap up the stream of precum spilling from the crest of his tip. It didn’t really have a taste, but you were so intoxicated on the aroma of his expensive cologne. It mingled on the inside of your nostrils, and so did his cum that burned down in there also.

He couldn’t help but to make a variety of content noises, continuing to drink up every drop of your ejaculation against his face, feeling a mouth sucking in the heat of his veins. The clashing temperatures between her seemingly cold mouth on fire that raged throughout his cock caused the man to buck up erratically to meet her mouth for more of the gratifying effect. Zuko pushed his thumb into the taut slot settled below her bottom, planting it there inside to lick back down into her actual nub of nerves. Biting it roughly triggered your head to shoot back up from her ministrations, coughing up a loud noise of pain into the muffled interior of the car.

A lip was pulled to be bitten down in the middle of two rows of teeth, humping back on his thumb made your eyeslashes flutter rapidly, throwing your eyes to the darkness of the back of your head. Clenching so hard around the digit made you squirt violently, coating his face with your intense finish. Everything you felt in that moment mustered up altogether in a drawn out moan of desperation. This is the third time you did that tonight and your body was basically convulsing from overstimulation, legs burning and going numb from the exhaustion of your muscles working tirelessly in one position to support yourself.

Sliding your legs from straddling his head, he instructed you silently to lie down onto the slightly damp leather seats below. You watched with your lips slightly parted and mouth drying up from overuse, Zuko grabbed the specific pair of panties you had worn that evening, tearing them apart to reduce it down to one long piece of cloth to tie your ankles together with. An involuntary flinch shook up the nerves running across her body as she gazed at him tearing up her underwear.

Legs instinctively holding themselves up in the air for him, a hand of his grasping your ankles to throw the ruined pair of underwear to bind up your legs along the shape of your ankles, kissing the sides of your feet soothingly to lull your nerves. The kisses were slow and calculated, his still damp right thumb massaging one of your feet as he kissed back up to your wiggling toes. Arousal pressurized within her body just by watching Zuko reciprocating the deep stare of blatant desire, in this small intimate exchange the air shifted slightly as he pulled your legs back with the grip on your panties with the ankles within them.

“Here, keep these in your mouth for me, so you can hold your legs back.”

Zuko took a few hurried intakes of breath watching her struggle to lurch forward to bite down on the thin fabric of her undergarments. All of her hamstrings ignited in a fire of stretch bringing her legs down in the mostly uncomfortable position he guided her into, wincing in acute pain, not noticing how a hand pushed her feet back to lift up her lower half to properly angle himself up to her gaping entrance. He cursed sliding straight into nothing but tightness, he had to ground your hips to keep from jerking away from the renewed connection.

Lumps balled up amongst the canals of her throat, she braced herself for his experimental movements at the edge of her pussy. Zuko had to place his hands digging into the seat on his left side in order to back up his starting pace up into her. Sinking down into her from above, reclining on one foot that dug into the carpet interior of the humid car, the other knee profoundly rubbing into the groaning material of the leather.

Throwing his head back with a long noise of satisfaction, he dipped your thighs back further until they were flush in contact with your contracting abdomen. His thrusts had you fumbling your words and choking on your drool, deep sighs excused as hushed whines. Syllables of all sorts fell from the corner of your mouth with the small starter trail of drool seeping out from your mouth. Suctioning slaps filled up the drums of your ears, easing their way to a faster pace. Zuko was known to have such impatience but god did his impatience know how to please you.

With each and every plop downwards, he exhaled nearly laboriously as sweat condensed around his hairline. Windows began to fog up from the heat of their bodies melding together deliciously, getting more and more reckless by the second he scooted his other foot to prop himself up on the creaking seat.

“That’s right, take this dick pretty girl.”

Nothing but an array of exaggerated moans and whines filled the silence of the car, and sobs that accented his hips landing down to drill through the gummy barriers of your sex. Your breasts bouncing around lewdly created another sight for Zuko to bask in as he never let up plowing inside of her.

Surely, the car had started to rock from his pace ricocheting throughout the entirety of the situation surrounding you two.

“Fuuck me!” You snarled out despite your underwear restricting your mouth, hands flying to scratch at his forearms possibly drawing blood from your nails burrowing past the thin layer of his milky skin. A slimey mixture of your wetness and his blossoming precum combined into a bubbly, translucent blend, his aggression splashed the fluid all over the contents of the car and themselves.

He’d fuck it so voraciously you couldn’t differentiate if you were peeing or squirting actively, whatever, the only thing on your mind was telling him how good his dick is. How his dick is the only one ever meant for you, each time you reassure that what he was doing was perfect, his length would hammer in your walls so good as physically possible. Zuko reached through your open legs to push downward on your throat to let him stand up a little more on his feet to beat down in your soaking wet pussy.

Instantly, the makeshift bound flew from your mouth as you screamed his name like a thousand times over, gritty noises of wailing cries from your soul itself as you tried to shove him out of you. Head slamming down on the door handle from him nailing down on your cluster of nerves just up behind your clit, you could’ve cried from the view of your juices spraying all over his gorgeous body. Your insides felt mixed around, reaching new depths you had no knowledge of being there. The swell of your stomach came from the sheer girth of his massive fucking shaft, rearranging the layout of your guts with such vigor.

“So fuuucking wet, so fucking- good. Cum on it f’me doll.”

His dick’s print bulging out on the inside of your stomach caused your vision to churn, unrhythmic moans in obscene noises displaced from his plunges forward. Zuko sped up impossibly faster, spanking down the underside of your ass with his pelvis viciously. It’s obvious there were some bright red mark down there, you’re now at the peak of your overstimulation twitching and jerking your body around the sticky leather from your sweat and never ending fluids. The jerks came in sprodiac groups, legs shaking violently in the air from sheer muscle exhaustion.

Deciding that you were literally at the crest of passing out, you rapidly tapped on the seat beside you to signal to Zuko that you were trying to tap out this round. Before you could even sit upright to remove yourself from him with slight movements, he hooked your legs with the aid of his powerful arms to pin you down altogether with most of his body weight.

“No, don't run now, I’m not finished with you yet.”

Oh if only you could even grasp at how pitiful of a wail that was punched out from you was, you were genuinely burning from a plethora of emotions, sensations, thoughts, words. It was crazy how he had you at his mercy and his will, if heat wasn’t already there it definitely came to wash in another wave over you. It all felt absolutely amazing on the precipice of an orgasm so great you’d think you died and went to heaven for the first time.

The blood that circulated throughout your veins ran freezing cold, eyes shooting open with your pupils narrowed and thin, back arching up into something practically inhumane. Your body spasmed out vehemently, yet nothing fell from your mouth, just silence for the moment of your climax. And so you officially collapsed back down onto the backseat, limbs all going into a limp jelly feel.

She continued to loudly moan, regardless of her finish, Zuko still hasn’t had his own fill yet. He rutted into her body to fuck her deeper against the material of the seats, thrusts growing reckless and overwhelming in pure force. The pure white ring of her finish accumulated around the base of his cock as he drove it a good inch further every single time he rocked back inside. Their combined fluids grew sticky from Zuko churning them into a disgruntled pulp, the micro-strings of ot all sticking to their bodies, mixing with sweat.

It wasn’t long until after a few more strokes that he came wholly, pressing down on your stomach to cave in his cum in the depths of your womb. Zuko groaned rather quietly, but loud enough for you to hear. The couple’s noises of gratification in sync as she squirted another few times.

Your eyes glittered as you checked out the state of the car in all of its glory, the windows were well fogged over, clothes thrown anywhere haphazardly, and the seat was completely covered in a puddle. The way your entire body quaked rapidly as he withdrew with a loud suction noise, a quiet chuckle came from above you, gaining your attention as he reached for his phone left in the driver’s seat.

“You mind?” Zuko said with a gentle, tired smile. You returned the warm visage, flipping over on your stomach to arch your lower half up in front of him. The flash flickered on illuminating the internal dark aesthetics of the Bentley they were currently in, preparing themselves for another senseless round. His essence leaked down the innermost parts of your thigh as he positioned himself up at your entrance, grabbing a handful of your ass.

────bloopers

“You owe me a shit ton of Chick fil a for what you just put me through.”

“Why not Wendy’s? It’s ch-“

“Don’t play with me Zuko.”

#atla zuko #fire lord zuko #avatar the last airbender #fanfic #zuko x reader #zuko x black reader #firelord zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko smut #firelord zuko #zuko x y/n #kinktober 2023 #[𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫‗ ❍]#smut #like a bit over the top lols .#✧*̥˚ [works] *̥˚✧

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acapelladitty · 6 days

Note

I need Cooper Howard leaving bruises and marks on a partner for reasons. Marking up his girl all pretty like~

Mornings Echo

Pairing: Cooper Howard/F!Reader

(tw for: rough handling, grinding, biting, threats of violence, skin marking, groping, filthy talk, mild nipple play, jealousy, possessive behaviour) [1.6k words]

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Crashing through the thin wooden door of the shed, a splintering noise squealed free of the old planks as Cooper kicked them shut with an aggressiveness that made your heart flutter. Random tools lined the wall opposite you, the wall to your back completely clear of debris, and a cheeky comment about his actions died in your throat as you quickly found yourself slammed against that same wall with a single fluid shove.

Stars dancing before your eyes as a surprised gasp fills the small area, your body remains stunned for a moment as Cooper stands before you, his hand still pressing harshly into your shoulder as he stares down at you with most of his features hidden by the shadows of his hat. You wrap a hand around his wrist, fingers clawing into the leather coat as you grip at him with equal aggression.

"Fucking ouch." You hiss, attempting to stamp at his foot with the ball of your own as petty revenge guides your movements. "The hell was that for?"

"Ain't sensible to tease a man like that." His eyes ablaze, the anger in Cooper's features is different to his usual rage as something much more muted yet complicated touches at the way his eyes narrow and his face tilts. "It'll get you into the kinda trouble I don't think you're ready to handle."

Tease?

A confused look furrows your brow.

Fresh off an exchange of caps for meds, you hadn't actively payed him enough attention during the transaction to tease him. All you had done was-

Oh.

Ah.

The trader, a lecherous old fuck with jerky fingers and a face that vaguely resembled rotten jelly, had shown an obvious interest in you that hadn't went unnoticed by yourself or, apparently, Cooper.

Never one to pass up the chance for a better deal, your rejections of his advances had been much less violent than you would have liked; but the resulting tolerance of the lingering touches he delivered with his disgusting hands has ensured an extra few capsules tossed in to the exchange.

So no, this wasn't anger that was pinning you to the wall.

This was jealousy.

"You're jealous." You accuse, never one to back down from the truth as his mouth visibly tightens in irritation at the words. "You didn't like me letting that filthy motherfucker think he had a chance! Damn, Cooper, didn't think it was that serious."

"You're free to do what you like and I don't pay your intentions no never mind. But what I can't abide is folks touching things that ain't theirs."

"I ain't anyone's." You reply, matching his tone and accented words with a mocking quality as your free hand shifts up to poke rudely at his chest. "So you can shove that possessive shit right up your ass until it comes pouring out of your jealous mouth."

He's on you in a flash, his quick movements catching you unaware as you squeak out your surprise once more. His mouth is hot against your own, forcing your lips open to claim his prize and steal a filthy kiss which he didn't deserve. A fact you make him more than aware of as you bite down on his lower lip with enough pressure to make him pull away, hissing violently and cursing you out as he does.

"You sure you ain't feral, darling? Biting like a rabid bitch? Better check to make sure."

His gloved hand forces itself within your shirt, accidentally ripping the top button free as it bounces along the floor to disappear under some dusty shelves. It does nothing to deter him though as his fingers drop enough to grope roughly at your left tit, pulling it free of your shirt as your feeble protests die in your throat - heated arousal making any denials difficult.

Fuck- you loved him like this. All business and action, decisive and determined. It was an attitude that had left you screaming louder than the wild dogs which roamed the abandoned wastelands.

Cowboy hat still lovingly perched atop his head, his face dips to your chest to replace his hand and blunted teeth roll across your nipple, the nub quickly peaking due to the cruel attention. His other hand still on your shoulder, both of your hands wrap around the back of his neck to pull him closer as he steals the breath from your throat.

Wordlessly panting, a low grunt escapes you as his teeth sink in to the flesh just to the side of your nipple - the skin there feeling sensitive and raw as he sucks it into his mouth, his intent to leave a livid mark in its wake clear. It's an uncomfortable sensation but hot as hell as you rub your thighs together, feeling the growing moisture there with a lightheaded frenzy making your thoughts fuzzy.

"Fuck, Cooper. You're gonna tear a chunk from me."

"A mighty fine idea. Maybe I will." He mutters into your breast before righting himself, looming to his full height once more. "I bet you'd taste just fine, all raw and bloody. Wouldn't even need to season you like all the others."

Grimacing at his cannibalistic tendencies, a facet of his personality that you didn't indulge in with quite as much enthusiasm, you glance down at the red mark on your chest - the imprint of his teeth visibly denting into the abused skin as Cooper continued.

"I'm sure I also saw that chunky son of a bitch eyeing up your neck so let's see if I can leave an impression there too."

Again moving too quickly for you to protest, Cooper presses his body into your own in such a way that you are utterly unable to move; trapped beneath his heated frame and the definite scent of leather and coppery blood which never seemed to leave him. He wasn't a jealous man typically but you were eager and more than interested in seeing how far this little game would go.

His roughened tongue licks across your pulse point, tasting the accrued sweat and grime which coats your skin and the wet sensation forces a shudder to run down your spine. He could say what he liked, but when it came to being a tease, he would always be the offending party. He seemed to delight in pushing your buttons with casual, lewd comments and finding particular ways of brushing his body against your own - regardless of who was around to witness it.

Tilting your neck to allow him easier access, he accepts the small boon with enthusiasm as his teeth join his tongue in marking up your skin. Soft kisses are interspersed with savage, quick snaps of his teeth and the dual sensations of pain and pleasure are almost enough to drive you insane as you writhe against him. Taking the hint, he pushes his knee between your legs and you instantly start to grind against his thigh - the stimulation enough to allow you to endure the rough treatment of your neck.

Your hand drops to his groin, cupping his hardened length through his trousers as he growls his appreciation into your skin.

"I think I like you when you're jealous." You taunt. "Maybe I should- fuck, Coop!" You cut off as he bites you once more, this time over the sensitive juncture where your neck meets the shoulder. "Maybe I should make you jealous more often."

"Dangerous game, sweetie." He rumbles in response, running his teeth along your earlobe. "I'm being Mr. Nice at the moment and marking up my property just a little bit, but there's always other ways to get the same results."

"Mmm, and what are you going to do, cowboy? Pulling at his head until he was facing you once more, the jealousy in his eyes is replaced by a burning arousal which you knew meant you were in for a solid ride. "Gonna rustle me up in that lasso of yours? Ride off with me in tow."

"Lasso's too nice for one as fiesty and spirited as you. Won't do shit. Any good rancher knows that a quick brand," his hand drops to your chest once more as his fingers poke at the sensitive mark he had suckled into the skin earlier, "would be best at reminding you who you belong to."

Already littered with scars and markings which showcased your journey through the wastelands better than any story could, the thought of a brand wasn't as off-putting as you might have thought and you rub as his cock with renewed vigour through his trousers as you give a contemplative hum.

"Sounds hot. Maybe if you're good and fuck me til I forgive that little shove into the wall," you lean into him and run your own teeth against his ear, "I'll even think about it, handsome."

#fallout #amazon fallout #cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #cooper howard smut #fallout smut #walton goggins

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