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toxophilitis · 1 month

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The Widow's Horny Family cont

CHAPTER SIX

Peggy kept seeing, in her mind, Grace.

What she had seen when the robe parted the day before was so unlike the woman, she felt. Although Grace dressed well, her clothing was not designed to draw attention to her body.

What Peggy had seen was a body that should be showed off.

The woman certainly had lovely tits, a bit larger than most, but not grossly so. Her waist was still small and her hips rounded. Seeing her in the back yard, wearing that skimpiest of all bikinis, then seeing the robe fall apart, Peggy suspected there was more than met the eye with Grace.

She recalled the color of Grace’s nipples. The color was stark and vivid, and surely rouge or something had been applied to them. Peggy had seen enough naked tits in her life to know when a woman used makeup on them. And she knew that a woman lacking an erotic mind would never do such a thing.

That meant only one thing—Grace was erotic, yet concealed it. That didn’t make sense, not to Peggy. Peggy had not heard of people that went out of their way to hide the erotic nature they felt. At least she had never met anyone that way, not in the circle she and her late husband had associated with.

Perhaps, she thought, Grace had no choice but to conceal her desires... perhaps her husband, Paul, insisted on it. Perhaps he was the one that held a tight rein on his wife, being a man with a low sexual desire.

If that was true, then Grace must be in misery, she thought.

Peggy was finishing up the washing, standing next to the washing machine. Suddenly she stood up straight, staring at the wall. Was that it? she thought. Had Grace, in her way, made a pass at her? She certainly look her time pulling her robe close over her body, and then Peggy realized those dark eyes had been glowing at that moment.

She left the garage and went to the bedroom, thinking it over. There was no other answer. And the way Grace had gazed at her tits in the tight, sleeveless sweater. Of course, Grace was starved for sex, sex with a woman at that, Peggy thought. Was it possible Grace preferred women to men, a cunt to a cock? There were women who did, Peggy knew, even though married.

Well, Grace had made the overture, she thought as she climbed into the tub. With scented bubbles swirling about her body, Peggy grinned to herself. If she wants some of my hairy cunt, I’m going to give it to her.

After her bath, she dressed in a becoming white skirt and pastel pink blouse. Underneath she was naked. No sense in putting obstacles in the way. She giggled like a school girl anticipating a quick feel at the drive-in movie.

Without calling first, Peggy walked across the lawn of the two houses, knocking at the door.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Grace said when she saw Peggy standing there. “I was thinking about calling you, Peggy.”

Seated again on the couch, with unwanted coffee on the table before her, Peggy lifted her left knee to the cushions, but keeping her skirt down. Grace sat at the other end as they chatted. They spoke of Susy and Donny, of their growing attachment to one another, each agreeing not to interfere, each praising the other’s child.

After about half an hour, with Peggy watching closely for any sign of desire on Grace’s lovely face, she began to feel her judgement had been wrong. Then Grace picked up her coffee and spilled it. With a womanish squeal, she quickly leaned the cup over the couch as if to keep it from falling into her lap. But the motion parted Grace’s thighs, parted them wide. Peggy shot a quick glance between them, and, sure enough, all she saw was dark curly cunt hair—no panties at all.

She was not surprised when Grace left her thighs parted after sitting the cup on the table. Grace was pretending she was not exposed to Peggy. But Peggy made a point of letting Grace know where she was looking. Still talking away, avoiding sex talk, Grace suddenly leaned against the arm, of the couch, drawing one knee up. Peggy allowed a small smile to cross her face as she saw the satiny thigh of the woman, the pretended lack of knowledge about her pussy being revealed. Peggy knew that Grace was feeling her out, waiting to see what effect this would have on Peggy.

There was no garter belt, or nylons today, but Peggy felt that was because of her unexpected visit. Deliberately looking at Grace’s long thighs and dark pussy hair, she lifted her own leg. There was an immediate response from Grace.

The dark eyes of the woman seemed to flare with a bright gleam of hunger, and what she had been saying was caught in her throat. Peggy saw Grace’s tits rising and falling swiftly as Grace gazed with smoldering eyes at the flesh under her white-skirt.

Grace stopped speaking in mid-sentence and just stared under Peggy’s skirt.

“Lick me,” Peggy said, her voice very low and husky.

Grace made no reply.

She repeated it again. “Lick me, Grace.”

Grace lifted her eyes to Peggy’s, her tongue moving over her bottom lip. “I beg your pardon?” Grace said in a breathless voice.

“I want you to lick me,” Peggy said once more, pulling her skirt high and spreading her legs wide. “I want your tongue on me, Grace.”

Grace lowered her hot gaze again, staring with smoldering heat at the thick curls of Peggy’s cunt, seeing her pink wet pussy lips and the tip of her clit.

Both waited, bath breathing heavily, both exposed to the other.

Then, with a sob of desire, Grace scooted swiftly toward Peggy, her arms going around her tightly. Peggy felt the woman’s moist ups crush upon hers, and when Grace snaked her wet tongue past her lips, Peggy began to suck eagerly as she brought her hands up to close her fingers about Grace’s spongy tits. She heard the woman moan against her mouth, then Grace had her hands on Peggy’s tits. They broke apart and, with squeals of delight, began to undress each other with fumbling, eager fingers. When Peggy’s tits were exposed, Grace looked at them, then gurgled happily as she lowered her face and began sucking vigorously upon a rigid nipple. Peggy held the woman’s head tight against her tits, feeling that hungry tongue fluttering and darting, sending moist heat throughout her trembling body.

As Grace sucked on Peggy’s tit, her hand moved down and caressed a satiny thigh, working its way between the sensitive, smooth inner surfaces. Peggy parted her legs and then Grace had her hand cupping her pulsating cunt.

Grace whimpered hungrily as her lips pulled at Peggy’s firm nipple, her palm rubbing back and forth on Peggy’s swollen cunt lips. Peggy writhed on her ass, pressing her steaming cunt into Grace’s palm, urging the woman.

“What about the kids?” Peggy whispered.

“Fuck the Goddamn fucking kids!” Grace said, her voice hoarse with desperate desire. “Fuck them!”

Peggy was delighted, hearing this come from a woman she had seen as aloof and somewhat chilly. Her impression of Grace being an erotic woman was certainly correct.

“Okay, fuck them,” she said. “Stick your finger in my cunt, Grace! Fingerfuck my pussy!”

“Oh, yes!” Grace yelped, flicking a finger deep into Peggy’s slippery cunt.

Peggy leaned back, one leg thrown over the rear of the couch with the other hanging over the cushions. She placed her head on the arm, looking down at Grace’s hand, the finger fucking in and out of her cunt swiftly.

Grace, her eyes moist and filmed over with passion, stared at the curls surrounding her finger.

“Eat me, Grace!” Peggy sobbed, lifting her ass and twisting around with desire. “Oh, Grace... eat my cunt! I love a tongue up my pussy! Suck me, Grace!”

“Oh, yes!”

Peggy, through the haze of her bubbling desire, watched Grace dip down, sliding her body along the cushions of the couch as she swiftly buried her face into her cunt. The movement caused Grace’s dress to ride past her hips, bunch at her waist. Peggy looked at the creamy swells of that beautiful ass, arching her cunt to meet Grace’s mouth.

Then she closed her eyes as passion gripped her.

Grace began to suck and lick and kiss at her cunt with an animal-like hunger. Peggy found Grace very skilled at eating cunt.

She closed her thighs about Grace’s head as the woman sucked her puffy cunt lips between her hot lips, her tongue lapping greedily, fluttering over her clit. Then Grace delved her tongue up into Peggy’s cunt, fucking it back and forth, fucking wildly. Her hands clutched at Peggy’s tight flexing ass, her fingers digging into the hot flesh.

Peggy held Grace’s head in her hands as she arched her hairy, wet pussy up, grinding into the woman’s face. The muffled squeals coming from Grace was all that was required for Peggy to know she had hold of a woman with intense erotic drives and hungers.

Her cunt closed tightly about Grace’s fucking tongue as she churned her crotch up and down, smashing her pussy into the face of the licking, sucking woman. Opening her eyes again, she looked down at the swell of Grace’s lovely ass cheeks, watching them twist as she banged her own cunt against the cushions of the couch. The sounds Grace made were those of a woman desperate to suck this hairy cunt.

It had been some time since she had been tongue fucked by a woman, and Peggy’s emotions were racing with delight. The ecstasy bubbled within her like foaming waves bursting upon some sandy beach. She held Grace’s head tightly, twisting her cunt harshly into that devouring mouth. When Grace sucked her clit between those hot lips, sucking hard as her tongue lapped the tip, Peggy sobbed as a tremendous orgasm ripped through her body. She slammed her cunt hard into Grace’s face, twisting.

Grace’s nose was buried in the thick curls of Peggy’s cunt, her fingers digging into Peggy’s light ass cheeks. She was breathing with excitement as she sucked on Peggy’s rigid, fiery clit. Her lips clung tightly to Peggy’s cunt as she came, moaning with the ecstasy she herself felt.

Grace did not release Peggy until she lowered her naked ass to the couch, and then she looked up with gleaming, bright eyes. Her face was smeared with the juices from Peggy’s pussy. Her dark eyes seemed to be pleading, and Peggy understood the driving torment the woman felt. Her naked ass continued to writhe.

“I want... I need...” Grace mumbled, feeling about Peggy’s cunt gently. “Oh, Peggy, please!”

Peggy caressed her fingers through Grace’s hair, smiling at the woman. “I understand, Grace,” she said softly. “I’ll help you, of course.”

The torment, seemed to leave Grace’s face, and she sat up smiling happily.

“But what about Susy and Donny?” Peggy asked again. “We could easily get caught, you know.”

“Fuck Susy and Donny!” Grace said, again causing Peggy to be amused. “They can find their own fun!”

But, apparently changing her mind, Grace stood up. Peggy looked at the tall slender woman. It was a shame for Grace to hide that enticing body the way she did. Those goodies were just too sweet to conceal.

Grace held her hand out to Peggy. “We’ll go to Susy’s room. They won’t find us there.”

“Susy’s room? Why not your bedroom, Grace?”

“Because... you might not understand.”

“It’s your house,” Peggy said, standing up and taking the woman’s hand.

They walked quickly to Susy’s room. It was the typical teenage girl’s room, with a poster bed, canopy and all. The room was painted pink, and all the furniture was white. Lace and ruffles were everywhere. The room was neat and looked very clean.

Grace sat, on her daughter’s bed, spreading her legs wide. Leaning back on one hand, she caressed her dark-haired cunt with long fingers, smiling with anticipation at Peggy. Peggy dropped to her knees in front of Grace, sliding her hands along those satiny, slender thighs. She gazed into Grace’s crotch, seeing one of the prettiest cunts ever. The hair, dark and very thick formed a perfect triangle. The long strands framed puffy pink cunt lips, and the tip of Grace’s clit peeked invitingly from the moist folds.

Peggy pressed her mouth to Grace’s cunt, kissing moistly. When Grace lay back, Peggy shoved her long legs up and back until Grace held them tight against her arching tits. Peggy, on her knees, gazed with pleasure at the woman’s hairy cunt and puckered asshole. It had been some time since she had had her lips against a cunt, and she was eager for it now. Stroking her hands about the backs of Grace’s thighs and curves of her ass, she teased them both. She probed lightly at the lips of the woman’s pussy, tickled her sensitive clit, making Grace whimper with eagerness, her ass shaking.

“Ohhhh, Peggy! Eat my cunt, please! Lick my hot pussy and tonguefuck it and make me come! Oh, hurry and suck my cunt!”

Peggy moved her face close, her tongue licking about the woman’s puffy pussy lips. She traced Grace’s cunt with her tongue tip, holding the parted cheeks of her ass with both hands. Dipping down, she scraped her tongue around Grace’s asshole, felt her asshole tighten and heard a sob of ecstasy bubble from the woman’s mouth.

Peggy started licking her tongue up and down, going from the pucker of her asshole to the tip of her clit. Up and down her tongue went, her hot breath causing Grace to tremble and yelp with delight. When she slipped her tongue inside the slippery, steaming cunt, her upper lips smashed at Grace’s distended clit. Flicking her tongue in and out swiftly, she writhed her lip. Grace began to twist and churn her cunt furiously, making it difficult for Peggy to keep her mouth pressing upon her pussy. Sometimes her lips and tongue were on Grace’s asshole, sometimes simply in the thick cunt hair, but most of the time she managed to keep her tongue fucking into the heat of that boiling cunt.

She knew when Grace started coming before her wild screams began to fill the room. She knew it because Grace’s cunt closed about her tongue like a wet, slippery vise. She fucked her tongue in and out swiftly as Grace came, the orgasm drawn out until Peggy wondered if Grace would ever stop. And, the screams of Grace got louder. Peggy had to cling to the woman’s hips with tight hands because her ass was churning up and down and revolving powerfully.

When she thought the orgasm was over, Peggy started to pull her tongue free. But Grace had grabbed her head and pulled her mouth tightly into her cunt, her long legs draping over Peggy’s shoulders. The beat of those thighs against her cheeks sent a rumbling orgasm bursting within Peggy’s cunt, and she began to lick and suck furiously once more at the dripping pussy.

“More! Oh, more!” Grace yelled frantically. “I want more! Give me more, you hot fucking cunt! Ohhhh, you sweet fucking bitch! Give me more tongue!”

Peggy heard the words of Grace. Her tongue shot into the cunt once more, sucking in a frenzy.

It was wild and somewhat strange to Peggy. Grace seemed so desperate for this, but the words she yelled somehow failed to fit the image the woman had been showing. Being called those names did not bother her at all. She knew passion was holding Grace. It was the desperation of a woman with intense sexual feelings, nothing more. The words meant nothing except that Grace was almost out of her mind with steaming desire.

The woman’s dark-haired cunt was in spasms again, the lips sucking and clinging to Peggy’s tongue, flexing in wave after wave of orgasms.

It seemed hours before Grace finally let her ass slump, and Peggy pulled her thoroughly wet face out of the greedy cunt. She sat on her heels, watching as Grace breathed with sharp gasps, her naked body trembling and shivering with the after glow of satisfaction.

Later, after dressing, they sat in the dining room of the house, drinking coffee. Peggy could not get over this difference in Grace. No longer did she appear to be a woman of mindless desire. Once again she looked cool and aloof, but her dark eyes were friendly now, very friendly.

“I’ve got to be careful,” Grace said when Peggy asked about this seemingly double personality.

“I don’t understand that at all, Grace,” Peggy said. “You certainly aren’t a cold person—what we just did proves that very well. Is it your husband? Does he cause this... this coolness?”

Grace laughed, the sound low and sensual. “Oh, my goodness no! I think I’ve given you the wrong impression, Peggy.”

“I still don’t understand,” Peggy insisted. “We’ve lived next door to each other all this time, yet you’ve seldom spoke to me, or anyone else that I’m aware of. Why, be so stand-offish?”

“I told you the other day that once we got to know each other, you might understand it,” Grace said. “I’m not sure the time is right, even now.”

But Peggy began to think she understood. She looked at Grace for a long moment, then said, very deliberately. “Do you know that Donny is fucking Susy?”

Grace stared back at Peggy. Although her expression did not change, those dark eyes seemed to become mysterious. Slowly, Grace nodded her head.

“You don’t mind?” Peggy said.

Again there was slight change in Grace’s eyes, but then they became warm again. “There isn’t much I can do about it, Peggy, if I did mind.”

“Of course you can do something about it,” Peggy said. “You’re her mother.”

“Then why don’t you talk to Donny?” Grace said. “Do you care if he’s fucking my daughter?”

“Only if you do,” Peggy said. “Otherwise, I don’t mind at all.” She looked closely at Grace. “What do you mean, there’s nothing you can do about it?”

“Susy is... hot,” Grace said. “She’s so fucking hot, she’s almost insatiable.”

“Susy? Your daughter is...”

Grace nodded. “But it’s understandable, Peggy. After all, look what we just did. I’m that way myself.”

“And your husband?” Peggy pressed. “I suppose he can’t handle you... give you enough?”

“Of course he can,” Grace laughed. “It looks as if you’re going to find out things quicker than I thought.” She stood up.

“Come with me... I’ll show you.”

Curious, Peggy followed Grace down the hall. She watched the sway of Grace’s ass cheeks, seeing a much different walk than usual. She realized that, in her own home, Grace was natural, but strived to be cool in public.

As she stepped into the master bedroom, her eyes went wide.

Every wall, was solid mirror, ceiling and floor included. There was a huge waterbed in the center of the bedroom, and reflections were all over the place. The waterbed was round, and the only thing on it was a black satin sheet. There were white figures all over it, and on close inspection, Peggy saw the figures were all entwined in various sexual positions.

“I love it!” she breathed excitedly. “I just adore it, Grace.”

“Paul and I designed it,” Grace replied. “He’s just as horny as I am... and... Susy. Do you understand now, Peggy?”

“I’m not sure,” Peggy said. “I see a room designed for erotic fucking, of course, and I know you’re a hot one.”

Grace opened a concealed door. It was a closet, Peggy saw, filled with various articles of clothing. When Grace showed the clothing to her, she saw they were all designed with one thing in mind—to tantalize and arouse.

One garment caught her eye.

Taking it from the closet, she looked at it. It was a dress, but certainly too small for Grace. From the front it was complete, but there were two holes in the bodice, where tits could protrude. Turning it, she saw the dress ended at the waist, with the back missing. It had been designed to reveal the person’s ass who wore it.

She looked at Grace.

There was a faint flush on her beautiful flesh, and her dark eyes seemed shy suddenly.

“You and Paul are very erotic, aren’t you?” Peggy said.

“Now you know,” Grace replied, sounding oddly flustered. “Please, Peggy, you won’t say anything about this, will you?”

“Now, who would I tell?”

Grace hugged Peggy. “You don’t think I’m... wicked?” “Good God, no!” Peggy laughed. “I find this delightful!”

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its-vannah · 2 years

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Confessions | Part Two | Theseus x Reader

A/N: Here's part two to "Confessions"! I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as the last one. It's super fluffy! Click here to read part one and be on the lookout for part three!

Word Count: 1,058

Warnings: Kissing, loads of fluff

Walking down the marble staircase into the ballroom, you felt like royalty. Your arm was looped in Theseus's, your green dress swaying by your feet as you descended the stairs, a soft smile on your face.

"Thank you," Theseus said between steps, "For agreeing to be my date for the night."

"Of course, Thes," You responded, "But you really don't have to thank me. It's what friends are for."

He nodded, "I just don't want you to feel put out. I know being at the Ministry Ball isn't exactly the way most people want to spend their evening."

"No, no," You shook your head, your eyes meeting his, "I want to be here. With you."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Theseus's heart was practically beating out of his chest being this close to you. One hand entwined with yours, the other settled on your waist, he could hardly concentrate on dancing.

Spinning you around in a slow circle, he brought you back to him. But in all of his thoughts, he hadn't noticed you trip over the skirt of your dress, falling into his chest.

He took a step back, catching you before you ended up face-down on the ballroom floor. Your arms were splayed acrost his chest, gripping the fabric to steady yourself. Breathing unsteadily, Theseus balanced you, returning you to your feet. But his hands remained on the small of your back, and your hands remained planted on his chest.

For a moment, everything seemed at a standstill. Around the two of you, life moved on. The Ministry employees kept dancing, drinking, talking- but you and Theseus just stood, existing, searching each others eyes for something more.

So as Theseus leaned in, his eyes focused on your lips, you leaned in, too.

It was only when Theseus was tapped on the shoulder that he was pulled away from the moment. His grip on your waist loosened, you removed your hands from his chest. Taking a step back, you forced a smile on your face as Theseus's boss introduced himself, asking to steal "the man of the hour" away for a moment.

Theseus looked back to you, hesitant to leave you on your own. But you just squeezed his shoulder, "It's okay, I'll be alright for a few minutes on my own."

He bowed his head, nodding slightly, looking back at you before following after his boss, who desperately wanted to introduce him to his wife and son. But all Theseus wanted was for you to be back in his arms.

"I'm sorry I had to leave you for so long tonight," Theseus said, "I didn't realize Rathart was going to talk about his wife for half an hour."

You couldn't help but laugh at his remark, smiling up at him, "It's okay. I made myself familiar with the buffet table."

"Well, then, I left you in good hands, didn't I?"

You nodded, but before you had a chance to respond, Theseus interupted, "A bit of a… strange question but, tonight, do you think… do you think everyone thought you were my wife?"

Your breath hitched in your throat, his comment ripping through you. It felt as though you had just been stabbed in the chest. Would it be so horrible to be married to you?

You snapped your head out of it. You had known Theseus for as long as you could remember. There was nothing romantic about it. The two of you were friends, nothing more and nothing less. That's the way it would always be.

"No," You stammered, "No, I don't think so. Why do you ask?"

"Rathart's wife, Magdoline, she thought we were married," Theseus said, inhaling sharply, "Said we looked nice together."

"Oh."

Theseus frowned, "You don't think… you don't think we looked nice together? Was it the tie? I thought that this shade of green was close enough but I guess when you really look at it in the light that it looks a bit off."

"No, there was nothing wrong with the tie," You said, your breathing getting heavier, "I think… I think we do look nice together, actually."

"Me too," He said, relief washing over his face.

You looked to your door, "I better call it a night. These heels are about to kill me."

He nodded, clasping his hands akwardly, "Well, goodnight, Y/N. Thank you again."

You nervously smiled at him, "Goodnight, Theseus."

The two of you leaned forward into an uncomfortable hug. Neither of you knew where to put your hands and when you finally broke apart, you each went your seperate ways as fast as possible.

As soon as the door closed behind you, you let out a deep sigh. The two of you couldn't keep going on like this forever. And Theseus sure as hell wasn't going to make the first move. With any other girl, maybe. But not with you. You knew each other too well for him to use a cheesy pickup line or ask you to a movie with a bouquet of flowers.

So you kicked off your heels, threw open the door, lifted your dress up off the ground, and made a beeline for him before he could descend the floor flights of stairs to your flat's lobby.

Slowing once you reached him, your hand grazed his shoulder. Before he could even turn around, your mouth was on his. His hand settled on your back, the other burying itself into your hair as his lips moved against yours.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were out of breath.

"What…" He trailed off, a dreamy smile on his lips.

"That was to make up for earlier," You answered, "When we were interupted."

Theseus pressed his forehead against yours, "I've got a confession to make, Y/N."

"I've got one, too."

"You go first."

You laughed, looking up at him, "No way! You said it first."

"But-"

"No, you first."

He swallowed, squeezing your hand, "I love you."

"That makes this easy, then."

He quirked a brow, "Makes what easy?"

"Telling you that I love you, too."

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a-girl-named-angel · 7 months

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Starter for @drinkitfrommymouthsuou

It all happened to her so fast. One moment, she was at a contest for her school choir. The next, she received an official letter from the prestigious Ouran Academy offering her a music scholarship to join their choir and pursue a higher education.

It hadn’t been long before her mother found out and quickly threw in her two yen. “This is a golden goose!” She said taking hold of her only child’s shoulders. “If you let it go, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Don’t do it for me, do it for yourself!”

And that was that.

Now she was walking towards the campus. Nervously fiddling with her book satchel as she walked. Though today would just be a day to familiarize herself and not actively attending courses, her own anxieties couldn’t help but grow.

For one thing, the closer she got, the more she realized she would stick out like a sore thumb. She had on her old school uniform as she couldn’t afford the dress uniform and certainly couldn’t afford to keep up with it. But her long blue skirt and white shirt tied off with a red ribbon as much better then casual wear. Even if she found herself catching more attention then she’d like.

The next thing was… the eyes. If she were in a group she would feel somewhat more secure, but she was alone and with everyone she passed, she could feel their eyes stare like daggers. And the whispers. Oh god the whispers. It was pure torture. She felt like any minute she would either burst into tears or run off into an unfamiliar location.

But soon, the bells for class rang and she made it into what she could guess was the office for them. Where she would receive her schedule and portable map.

“Homeroom, Algebra, French, Renaissance history, Choir.” She repeated as she began to circle the areas on her map to find her rooms. And one by one, she would mark them down as she passed them by. Only stopping once for lunch which she happily ate from her bento box. Choosing to stay away from the cafeteria as again, she didn’t want to be the center of attention.

Alas she made it to her final period. Which coincidentally lined up towards the end of the school day. does she would have to get used to the walks in between classes, she found it to be quite easy to navigate. At least until now.

There was an error in her schedule. Instead of labeling, which music room her choir class would be held in, it’s simply said “choir room”. This would not prove to be useful as she had a choice of three music rooms to find the right room. Thankfully, she didn’t have to worry about attendance, but still it was annoying to have to figure out which room was the right room, especially after a long day, such as hers.

Oddly enough, the first room, that she would have to look through was the last one, Music Room 3. ‘Would have to start somewhere.’ She thought.

No sooner had she open the doors, that she had come face first to several bouquets worth of rose petals being blown towards her face and several students sitting some odd feet in front of her welcoming her to. What they called. The “Ouran Host Club”.

Naturally the new girl was stunned. Half of her almost wanted to slam the door and run away. But, she knew that that was rude, considering that they were other people just nearby. So in the flurry of emotions that she was going through, she just stood there. A nervous expression on her face followed by a blush that covered her cheeks.

“H-huh! Oh gosh I-I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t mean to stumble in here!” She said trying hard to keep her composure. “T-there was a mistake on my s-schedule, I’m j-just looking for the music room that holds the choir.” She explained.

#verse: ohshc #there you go #hope this is alright.

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karis-the-fangirl · 2 years

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Care - Wheel of Time (book!verse), Lan x Nynaeve fic

Set just after Chapter 38 of The Eye of the World: Rescue; Nynaeve's POV Nynaeve and Lan have a few follow-up words about that intense moment of prolonged eye contact.

Fandom: Wheel of Time (book)

Pairing: Lanaeve

Word count: 2030

Rating: G

also posted on AO3

“Wisdom.”

Nynaeve’s head jerked up, half-filled water skin sloshing in her hands as she surged to her feet, fatigue washed away in a flood of alarm. “What is it?”

The warder held up a hand. “Nothing to fear. We are safe enough, for the moment.”

“Thank the Light.” Her shoulders sagged with relief and she crouched by the stream again. Lan didn’t move. She tried to ignore his looming presence, even as her neck prickled with the awareness of him that always sent blushes and goosebumps across her flesh when he was near. It didn’t help that her mind kept revisiting the look he’d given her—and Light blast Moraine for interrupting, even if Nynaeve had to grudgingly admit the Aes Sedai had been right, and they had needed to hurry. Still. She might have given them a moment .

Not that it hadn’t felt like a thousand moments, being caught in Lan’s eyes, his strong hand on her arm, as if he didn’t even realize how tightly he held her. As if he’d needed to feel her in his grip to be sure she was safe. The idea made something in her stomach squeeze and shiver. And what she’d seen in his eyes—heat, and anger, all wrapped together with relief and something that might have been longing. It had tugged at her heart, that crack in his armor.

But she’d also felt a sharp, gleeful barb of victory in her chest, the sense that she’d finally, finally scored a point in her ongoing battle with Moraine. Pride , that she could earn the regard of a man like him without needing the White Tower or pretty gowns or the strange bond—and as they’d galloped through the night that pride had curdled into sour, sickening shame. Did the strange flutter she felt in her stomach when he spoke to her mean anything at all? Or was she no better than Moraine after all, using him for her own ends, interested only because she wanted something she could hold over the Aes Sedai? Maybe it was both, which was somehow worse –that she could feel such a rush of pleasure just from his voice, from the warmth of his presence, and also see him as something less than a person, like a game piece to manipulate and squabble over. The thought contaminated the joy that had leaped up in her, made her feel dirty, as if she'd somehow smeared her heart with rancid oil.

Nynaeve tried to focus on the cold of the water rushing over her fingers, to pretend Lan wasn't there. The Women's Circle would have something to say if they knew some of the things I–

“Wisdom.” He was crouching next to her, hand on her arm—a light touch, this time, warm through her sleeve. “It will not get more full, however long you hold it under.”

She blinked at him, stunned by the faint twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth, and then she blushed hotly, pulling the waterskin out of the creek and fumbling with the stopper. She was no better than a goose-brained girl, mooning over a man instead of keeping her mind on her task.

He doesn't need to laugh at me , she thought sourly, drying her hands on her skirt, but then a finger was crooked under her chin, tilting her face up to his.

Nynaeve froze like a frightened rabbit, her heart thudding in her ears. His bent head meant that his face was in shadow, but she could see the gleam of his eyes, could picture their ice-chip blue color as he gazed down at her. He lifted his other hand. A calloused fingertip trailed a line across her cheek and she gasped, the inhalation sharp and uneven.

Lan paused. "Does it hurt?" he asked. She stared at him stupidly. "You haven't cleaned it," he added, lightly touching her face again.

She reached up, prodding gingerly as her fingers found the tackiness of drying blood. "It must have been a branch in the dark. It's just a scrape. I didn't even feel it."

He grunted. “It can be too easy to ignore small wounds in the heat of the moment, but even a small infection will steal your strength—and you need all you can muster.”

“Really.” Nynaeve sniffed, watching his face. “Someone should have told me this before.”

A thrill raced through her when she caught the corner of his slight smile deepen. That was real , she thought. No petty power struggle could make me feel so… she struggled to put a word to the sensation, only to have her mind go utterly blank as the warder’s hand curved around her jaw, her undamaged cheek cradled neatly in his callous-roughened palm. He’d produced a bit of cloth from somewhere and dipped it in the stream, using his cupped hand to hold her face steady as he cleaned the small cut. Nynaeve shivered. It was strange to realize that while she touched others—it was an essential part of her vocation, after all, touching hot foreheads and bruised ribs, and all manner of other places, when there was need—it was vanishingly rare for anyone to touch her with anything but brief, commonplace courtesy.

“Do you have an ointment suited for this?” he asked

Did she? Of course she did, she always did. Nynaeve leaned back, breaking away from his touch— Light! Burn the man for addling her wits, with his warm hands calloused in interesting, unfamiliar patterns —and managed to get her belt pouch open, finding the little jar, then nearly dropping it as she struggled with the lid.

“Permit me,” he said—not exactly a request, but at least he held out a waiting palm rather than taking the jar from her fingers. Nynaeve had dealt with enough men to appreciate that. He made quick work of the lid, set the jar on the ground between them, and before she could reach for it herself he had already dipped a broad fingertip into the salve.

“I can—“ she began, but Lan grasped her chin, tilting her face to the moonlight, as he repeated himself.

“Permit me.”

A bit full of himself, she thought, to be asking permission for something he was already doing, but it was hard to hold onto her indignation when she felt his breath brush her ear, when she was distracted by how firm yet gentle his fingers were against her jaw. He applied the salve with a delicate touch—not a hesitant dabbing, but deliberate and careful strokes that mitigated the sting.

“You took a great deal of risk tonight,” he said.

Nynaeve stiffened, but his hand on her chin tightened just the slightest bit, keeping her in place. “We’d have been in difficulties if I hadn’t,” she said. “Riding double wouldn’t have gotten us far.”

He grunted faintly. “I didn’t say that it wasn’t well done. You have courage, Wisdom.”

Heat flooded up Nynaeve’s cheeks and she dropped her eyes, hoping the moonlight hid her blush. Burn the man for making her feel so off balance! She wasn’t a simpering girl, ready to throw herself at the first man to give her a compliment (but he had been the first, at least the first not to add some qualifying rider—that she was good at woods craft ‘for a girl’ or a fine healer ‘for someone so young’…or pretty for such a shrew ).

The pad of his thumb rasped lightly down the edge of her jaw, nearly distracting her from his next words.

“You should have more care.”

She jerked backward, away from that calloused thumb, and glared at him. So his compliment had a qualifier after all. “Should I care more like your Aes Sedai?” she snapped. “Caring about people only when some garbled prophecy says they’re important?” He sighed wearily, but Nynaeve didn’t let him try to defend Moraine’s priorities, when it was only by the blessing of the Light that Egwene had been with Perrin! Otherwise the girl could have been abandoned to who knew what fate. She prodded the warder in the chest with one finger. “ All of those children are important, not because of some prophecy or ta’veren or anything else, but because they’re my people.”

His hand closed over hers, large enough to envelope her fingers in a warm, firm grip—firm, but still gentle. “Your motives and hers are more alike than they are different,” Lan said. “But I meant that you should have more care for yourself. Nynaeve.” The low rumble of his voice made her name sound like a caress, and just that quickly she was blushing again, her anger evaporating. She opened her mouth, then closed it. The silence drew out, and under her hand— and when had her whole hand pressed itself against his chest! —she felt him take a rough breath. When he spoke again his voice was level and even, but his eyes were intent on hers. “You do not know what would have happened to you in the hands of the Whitecloaks. You cannot imagine—and the Creator forbid you should ever learn—what these creatures do to women, especially to women with the ability to touch the One Power.”

“I don’t—“

“They would drag it out of you,” he said flatly, then shook his head. “And there are worse than Whitecloaks in the world. You throw yourself into danger too readily. Don’t risk yourself so easily, when there are greater battles to be fought. Battles equal to your courage.” His palm cradled her cheek again, and Nynaeve felt a strangled sound catch at the back of her throat as her skin tingled.

He dropped his hand, and the cold air hitting the place where his touch had been felt like a slap. Nynaeve’s heart thudded in her ears as if all the blood in her body were rushing to her face.

“You should sleep,” he said. “We will ride hard again tomorrow.”

Nynaeve gaped at him, then hastily shut her mouth and looked away. “I should check on Egwene,” she muttered, stumbling to her feet, clutching the half forgotten water skin. The warder was already standing, nearly vanishing in the darkness as he always seemed to do. Not that she was looking at him. Not that she felt somehow too hot despite the chill, as if her skin were the wrong size, as if her knees were weaker than a new lamb’s. How dare he, she thought, although she didn’t bother to specify what, not even to herself. How dare he be so tall, how dare he have such blue eyes, how dare he make her stomach flutter as if she'd swallowed a dozen moths, how dare he be tied hand and foot and soul to someone else while he looked at her like that –!

She was relieved to see Egwene sleeping, both for the girl’s sake and because she could still feel her cheeks burning. Nynaeve sat on her blankets as gracefully as she could—which was not very, because her knees seemed to fold up under her—and tried to ignore the rush of blood humming in her ears. She deliberately did not look around for Lan, did not wonder if he had followed her back to the camp or if he was moving soundlessly through the dark, circling, as he often did, keeping the rest of them safe.

Then she was suddenly aware of his looming presence behind her, of the smell of pipe smoke and leather as he stooped. For a moment the edges of his cloak fell around her, enveloping her in his scent like an embrace.

The little jar of salve, that she’d left forgotten by the stream, dropped softly into her lap. A hand brushed her shoulder, resting for the briefest of moments beside the rope of her braid.

“Sleep well, Nynaeve,” he murmured above her, his breath a whisper of warmth against her nape, and then he was gone again.

With clumsy fingers she put the ointment away in her kit. She rolled herself in her blanket, and when sleep did finally come her dreams were laced with fragrant smoke and rich leather.

#lanaeve #Lanaeve fic #lanaeve fic rec #wheel of time fanfic #karis wrote a thing

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havin-a-wee · 3 years

Text

If Only She Knew

pairing: dad!harry x cheerleader!reader

word count: 4.2k

warnings: smut (fingering + unprotected sex), cheerleading position implies readers weight, 20 year age gap

hi! ive been having some really bad writers block but i wrote this and even though its def not my best work i like it enough to post it :) also, i totally didn't mean to imply the readers weight, i only realized afterwards, so im really sorry about that. also the age gap is kinda big, so if ur uncomfy with that you shouldn't read this <3

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY

“Geez watch where you’re going!”

You don’t even look up at the girl, recognizing her nasally voice easily from how annoying it is. You were nose deep in a book while walking down the school hallway, and of course your worst enemy had to be walking down the same hallway, at the same time, in the opposite direction. You are both at fault for the collision, considering Ella had her eyes locked on her instagram feed. But knowing the girl, there is no way in hell that she will take any responsibility, even though you are the one who has coffee dripping down the front of your white blouse.

Since middle school, Ella Styles has always hated you. You have never known why, but she seems to have a vendetta against you, and tries her best to make your life miserable. You never let her, always refraining from giving her the explosive reaction that she was looking for. And that makes her hate you even more.

High school is over in 2 months, and although you are going to miss the freedom of being a child, you most definitely won’t miss the people from the tiny town you’ve lived in since you were young. You’ve always been the type of person to have a small friend group, only 4 people in your circle. But that’s how you like it, because crippling social anxiety makes it difficult for you to meet new people.

“I- sorry.” You still don’t look at her, instead peeling the soaking wet top off of your stomach.

“You better be sorry.” She flips her blonde hair, ensuring that the fluffy locks hit you right in the face. You are lucky this time seeing as she didn’t take it further, because sometimes she would purposely embarrass you after small incidents such as this one.

Tears well at your waterline and you run into the nearest bathroom, pushing open the blue door and locking yourself in a stall.

After all these years of torment, Ella rarely was able to get to you. But sometimes, she does something that pushes you off the edge, leaving you with red, tear-stained cheeks. The final straw this time was her ruining your brand new shirt, the one you were anxiously waiting to debut at school.

But now there was coffee dripping down your chest and staining the bright white fabric. Your only saving grace is the cheerleading uniform in your backpack. In fact, you were walking to the locker room to change for practice, and then for the game at 6 tonight.

You had been excited for the game, knowing that Friday night games always led to parties and fun afterwards. You rarely go to parties of course, but the buzzing energy never fails to rub off on you. But now that stupid Ella had to go and mess up your day, you’re dreading seeing her smug face while she asserts her dominance as cheer captain.

You untie your top and rip it off in a haste, frustrated tears running down your face periodically. You could’ve put a jacket on and gone to the locker room, but Ella would be going there soon, and the last thing you want to do is run into her with teary eyes. She can’t know that you let her get to you.

You brush your hands down your uniform, pulling down the skimpy costume and stuffing your old clothes in your backpack. Once out of the stall, you pull your hair up into a high ponytail, reapply your lip gloss and walk back into the hallway, having already done your makeup that morning. You’re happy that it’s a home game today, because the home game uniforms are two pieces and the skirts are smaller than the ones on the away game uniforms. There is a certain someone you are looking to impress, and the way your tits spill out from the top of the outfit will most certainly help you in your mission.

It’s not like you need to impress him, because he’s shown time and time again that he finds you sexy no matter what you wear. And when he doesn’t tell you, he shows you, by pressing his hard on up against your ass after you just woke up, despite your messy hair and bare face.

However, he also loves when you tease him. And that’s exactly what you’re planning to do.

You sling your heavy backpack over one shoulder and trudge down the hallway, the old fluorescent lights practically blinding you on your journey. The locker room is dingy, smelling of cheap soap and Victoria’s Secret perfume. At least it doesn’t smell like the boys locker room, which smells like sweat and more sweat.

It's already bustling with people, your teammates scrambling to get ready in time as to not get yelled at by the coach.

“Y/N!” The familiar shout of your best friend Rose is like a breath of fresh air, and you bound over to her. She’s standing in front of your lockers, the two of you obviously picking ones next to each other. “Wait, why are you already changed?”

“The bitch spilled her coffee all over me,” you grumbled, your eyes shifting over to where Ella and her little goons are giggling.

“I keep telling you, anytime you want me to beat her up I will gladly do it.”

“Not that I doubt your abilities Rose, because I know you would have her on the ground in a heartbeat, but I can’t let you do that. She can’t know that she upsets me.” You lower your voice for the second sentence, irrationally fearing that she can hear you over the loud chatter echoing through the room.

“I still think you should let me beat her up, but you do you I guess.” Rose shrugged her shoulders and turned back to her locker, bursting out into laughter with you after a beat of silence.

The rest of the getting ready process goes smoothly, Rose distracting you from the girl side-eyeing you in the corner. Soon enough, the whole squad was in formation outside, and you have your hands on the shoulders of Rose and another girl named Bethany. You are a flyer, meaning that you’re the one who the bases support while you pose and flip in the air. Its a hard job, but you are one of only three girls on the team who is advanced enough at flying to be safe doing it in routines. One of the other three girls is Ella.

Ella is the flyer for the middle group, seeing as she is the captain. You are on the right and the other group is on the left. Luckily, Rose is a base in your group, so you feel a lot better putting your safety in the hands of someone you already trust with your life.

“ELLA! YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG!” Coach Habbiths voice is piercing, her angry shrieks bouncing off your ear drums. Ella audibly huffs, displaying her frustration with the critiques she has been receiving since we learned the routine weeks ago. That’s one of the biggest problems with Ella, she believes that she's always right.

Every single practice she has done a needle instead of a scale at the end of the routine. It's aggravating for everyone, and that frustration is amplified everytime she makes the same mistake over and over. “Alright, everyone down. group 1 and group 3 take five, Ella and group 2 stay on the field.

The team obliged to her instructions, and you are brought down from the air.

“Okay Ella, I want you to watch how Y/N does the last move, because she’s actually doing it correctly.” Coach is standing in front of you now, and she emphasized the word ‘correctly’. This is much to Ella’s dismay, and much to your excitement.

Nothing brings you more joy than seeing Ella’s face when you one up her, and this time is no exception.

Aside from a few eye rolls and nasty looks, Ella corrects the move without much fuss. By now there's 15 minutes until the game, and the players have been warming up on the field for about half an hour.

“Did you see her face!” Rose tugs on your arm while you walk back to the locker room, water bottles in hand.

“I know! I should’ve taken a picture!”

“We can only hope that it knocked her ego down a peg.”

“I doubt it” Rose nodded in agreement and you continued your chatter, talking about the random things that best friends talk about.

“It’s go time ladies!” You jumped in surprise when Coach Habbiths yelling booms through the locker room, the hefty amount of metal in the room enhancing the echo.

In a blur, your entire team rushed out onto the field, the crisp air cooling your warmed skin. There was a huge crowd. probably the biggest the teams ever had. But that makes sense, because this game was against your school's biggest rival. Luckily, despite the huge crowd you were able to lock eyes with those piercing green irises you have gotten to know so well over the past couple months. Everytime you see him he gets more and more attractive, and this time is no exception.

At this point, the teams routine is muscle memory and you’re done with it before you can blink. Most people would think that being thrown in the air is memorable, but your main concern is the growing wet patch on your panties that spreads each time you squeeze your thighs together. Just the thought of the man is enough to turn you on, and now that you’re sitting on the cold metal bench your imagination has time to go wild.

The only thing that snapped you out of your daze was the eruption of appaulause from the audience, and the realization that the other cheerleaders were standing up and running towards the players. You breath out a sigh of relief, recognizing the cheering as a signal that the game has ended.

“Hey, you coming?” Rose tugs on your arm, looking down at you still on the bench.

“Um, actually I don’t feel so well, I think I’m going to go home.”

“I should’ve known. You know, one day you’re going to have to go to a party.” Rose places her hands on her hips, giving you a sarcastically annoyed stare.

“And today is not that day.” You grab your backpack and sling it over your shoulder, turning back to Rose for a second. “Have fun and be safe.”

“I always do.” Rose places a chaste kiss on your cheek before turning back to the gathering crowd on the turf.

Instead of heading to the sidewalk and walking home, you duck under the bleachers and walk down the gravel path, pushing open the fence that separates the field and the school. The contents of your backpack slosh around while you sway your hips as you walk. Finally, you make it to the back wall of the school, leaning your back against it and plopping your heavy backpack down by your feet.

And now you wait.

Much to your convenience, the wait this time isn’t long, only five minutes passing before you see the familiar man following the same path you did earlier.

He has a pair of brown slacks on, pressing against his waist courtesy of his black belt. A button up white shirt hides the tattoos on his stomach, but he's rolling up his sleeves as he walks over to you. He's walking with intention, hungry eyes zeroed in on you.

When he’s only steps away, you cheekily bite your lip and use your finger to push up your skirt a little bit more.

Your actions have the intended effect, his eyes blowing wide and hands grasping at your waist.

“Y’can’t do that.”

Before you have a chance to ask what he means, his lips collide with yours, his tongue slipping in only moments after the initial kiss. But as soon as he started, he pulls away.

“Y’can’t be teasing me on the field like tha’, had me hard next t’my friends.” His hand is on the wall above your head, and his other arm is wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest. He’s panting, and you are too.

“Sorry Mr. Styles,” you push your bottom lip out in a pout, giving him the most innocent look possible. “Just wanted to wear it cause I know how much you like it.”

“Aw, my babygirl wore this f’me? Well I guess y’can be forgiven. Now let’s get t’my house before I fuck yeh right on this wall.” He places a soft kiss to your lips picking up your backpack from the floor and turning to the direction of his car.

“But it hurts!” He turns around again, giving you a sympathetic look and caressing your cheek. The rings on his fingers are cold, but you’re used to the feeling.

“I know sweet girl, but I can’t take care of yeh here, s’too risky.” He pauses for a moment, thinking of a solution to your not so little problem. “How bout I give y’my fingers in the car? Hows that sound hm?” You nod eagerly, pulling his hand down from your cheek and holding it. He takes the signal and begins walking to his car while you follow him.

You never planned to sleep with your bullies dad. But a few months ago your parents dragged you to a family friends housewarming party, and that friend happened to be a friend of Harry’s too. There were no other teenagers there, so your focus was on the attractive older man who had been checking you out since you first locked eyes, and after ending up in the upstairs bathroom together the two of you have been fucking at least twice a week. You only learned that he’s a dad when you saw him for the first time outside the party. He didn’t look the part, and you actually thought he was in his 20s until he corrected you. He’s 38, having become a parent at only 20 years old. Your relationship is a bit taboo, but you’re a mature 18 year old and you and Harry get along well. So well that your time together has developed from casual sex to a mutually exclusive relationship. (Neither of you like labels, but you’re basically boyfriend and girlfriend).

He makes you really happy, and when you have to face off against Ella, it helps knowing that you have power over her, even though she doesn’t know it.

“Did she do anything today?” Harry is walking beside you, hands still intertwined.

“Besides spilling coffee on my shirt, nothing much.” Harry sighs in frustration and squeezes your hand as a show of affection.

“M’so sorry, I wish y’didn’t ‘ave to deal with her.”

The thing about Harry and Ella is they can barely be considered family. Ella’s mom is, for lack of a better word, a bitch. She’s snobby, conceited, and rude, and those behaviors have rubbed off on Ella. Another thing that rubbed off on her was her mom’s hatred for Harry. Being young parents put strain on their already struggling relationship, and they split before Ella’s first birthday. Harry said he tried his best to make it work for Ella’s sake, but her mom was looking for someone to pay for her life, and Harry had just started working his way up as a businessman.

Now, he’s a CEO, but luckily Ella’s mom already found a new beau with plenty of money, so she didn’t come crawling back to him. However, the success Harry achieved only a few years after their breakup made her jealous, and so she instilled that anger in their daughter. So currently Ella spends most of her time with her mother, and when she is with Harry she doesn’t treat him kindly.

“It’s not your fault Harry, you don’t have to apologize for her actions.”

“I know, I jus’ hate tha’ she treats yeh like that.” He sighs again, reaching into his pocket to grab his keys. In a few more steps you’re standing outside the sleek black suv, walking around to the passenger seat and sliding in once you hear the click of the door unlocking.

You both take a few seconds to breathe, an unspoken gesture to prepare for the night's events. Harry turns to you, a sexy smirk plastered on his face. “What d’ya think about fixin’ that ache darlin?” You nod eagerly, sliding down a bit in your seat to give your legs room to spread. “Think yeh can take off y’skirt fo’me?” Your head bobs once again as you nod, hooking your fingers under the elastic waistband and shimmying out of the skirt. While you’re doing that, Harry turns the car into the deserted street, using only one hand to steer.

You toss the tiny skirt into his lap, giving him a signal without distracting his eyes from the road. He reacts immediately, his free hand coming down to squeeze your thigh. You mewl at the contact and bite down on your lip, trying to stop your hips from bucking up in search of relief. His squeezes move up your thigh, and finally his fingers press against your weeping cunt. Swiftly, he pushes your soiled panties to the side, swiping his fingers up your folds collecting your juices. You shriek and buck your hips up into his hand, but much to your dismay he removes it from between your thighs. The car comes to a stop at a red light, and Harry takes the moment to look at you, his eyes wandering your squirming body. He’s practically drooling when he places his fingers in his mouth, tasting your sweet wetness.

“Sorry pup, jus’ needed t’taste yeh.” He chuckles again, and you whine softly in desperation. In one quick motion, he dives his hand back to your pussy, pressing his thumb on your swollen clit.

“Fuck!” The pleasure shoots up your spine, goosebumps raising across your body as he rubs circles on the puffy button. “Harry- please,”

“What d’ya want puppy? Want m’fingers?”

“Yes, yes,” you breathe out, words barely comprehensible through your panting.

“Alright, alright, I gotcha.” And with that his two fingers press into you, filling your tight hole perfectly. There is no hesitation before he begins pumping the digits in and out of you and his thumb never lets up on your bundle of nerves. “Such a needy puppy, got yeh soaking f’me from out in the stands hm?” His eyes are still on the road, but you can picture the lust filled eyes that are undoubtedly on his face.

“Get so wet jus- just thinkin’ about you,” you gasp, writhing as his fingers slam in and out of you.

“Yeah? This is my cunt, m’the only one who can make yeh this wet, isn’t tha’ right?”

“Only Harry.” At your confirmation he speeds his hand up, your vision clouding with white spots as the knot building in your stomach grows tighter and tighter.

All of a sudden, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty. “Wha-” You begin to question him but you realize that he’s pulling into his driveway. Instead of complaining, you sit up quickly and unbuckle your seatbelt, pulling your skirt back up your legs to avoid being nude on his front lawn.

As soon as you feel the little jolt your hand yanks on the handle and you hop out of the car. Your brain is fuzzy with need and all you are focused on is alleviating the aching between your thighs. You hear Harry lock the car while you're on the steps, and you turn back to ensure that he’s behind you. And sure enough, he’s hot on your trail, just as eager as you to get inside and onto his bed. Your foot is tapping on the ground anxiously, waiting for Harry to unlock the front door. After what seems like an hour, he is next to you again, fumbling with the silver keychain in his hand, eventually unlocking and pushing open the door. You both practically run inside, hands roaming each other's bodies and lips locking as you shuffle through the hall.

You disconnect breathlessly when you reach the stairs, subconsciously wrapping your hands around Harry’s neck so he can pick you up bridal style. He does so hastily, barely a second passing before he’s plopping you onto the fluffy mattress. “Finally,” he pants, hands fumbling with his belt buckle. There’s a prominent bulge in his trousers, and although you’ve seen it plenty, you are always in awe at how thick and big he is. While he’s busy removing his clothes, you are practically drooling at the sight of his bare cock, full, heavy, and dripping precome.

“Harry?”

He looks back down at you with his emerald green eyes, simultaneously dropping his recently-removed shirt on the floor. “Can I ride you?” The look he gives you is indescribable, a mixture of need, lust, cockiness, and beauty all rolled up into one.

“Whatever y’want puppy,” His hands scoop under your ass, and he lifts you up and switches your positions. Now it’s your turn to undress, and Harry makes himself busy by running his hands up and down your torso. “So gorgeous, y’know that?” You nod quickly then pull your shirt off of your head. “Most beautiful girl in the world I reckon.” You blush at the compliment, butterflies being added to the many sensations occuring in your body. You straddle his thighs, wrapping your hand around his length and tugging a few times. A loud groan rumbles through his throat, and you smile knowing you’re the one who made him feel like that. “Thought- thought yeh said y’wanted to ride me pup.”

“I do.” You keep your hand on his cock, sitting up on your knees and lining him up with your weeping cunt. All at once, your body is put at ease as his cock fills you up perfectly. He bottoms out inside of you, both of you moaning and groaning while you adjust. “So big-” Your words come out in choppy pants, the syllables being cut off by your heaves. You suck in one deep breath and move upwards, sinking back down onto him quickly. His large hands hold a tight grip on your waist, guiding you up and down his member. His lips attach to your neck, suckling on the supple skin just enough so that it doesn’t bruise.

“What a dirty little puppy you are,” he growls, eyes focusing heavily on where your bodies connect, watching himself disappear inside of you as you bounce up and down on his cock.

“Feel so full-” Tingles ricochet down every part of your body, and your legs are becoming weaker with each movement. Harry can feel your movement faltering, so his hips thrust upwards to meet yours, fucking you from underneath. “Harry!”

“I know pup, I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek and he leans in for another kiss, devouring your plump lips and swirling his tongue around yours. “So fuckin tight,” The words tumble from his mouth in a low growl, which sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. His cock twitches inside of you, encouraging you to muster all your energy and finish both of you off. Adrenaline kicks in and your strength returns, riding him faster and harder than before. “Let go f’me Y/N.” It only takes a few more thrusts for you to come undone, Harry’s orgasm following suit. The waves of pleasure roll through your body, and you throw your head back in ecstasy as you allow the feeling to overcome your body. Spurts of his hot cum cover your velvety walls and you ride out your orgasms together, resting your foreheads against one another.

You end up sleeping at his house, feeling safe knowing that Ella is staying with her mom today. It’s normal for you to sleep at his place, seeing as both of you are usually so tired that you pass out before you can leave. What isn’t normal is for you to be woken up in the morning by Harry’s phone ringing. Harry is a deep sleeper, and you laugh at the sight of him conked out while his ringtone blares on the nightstand just a few inches away. Carefully, you reach over his sleeping body and grab the phone, planning on hanging it up and going back to bed. However, when you saw that it was Ella calling, you changed your mind. Making a split second decision, you slide the icon to the right, holding it up to your ear.

“Hello?” Her whiney voice rings through your eardrum and you wince. Not the nicest thing to be woken up to.

“Hello,” you answer, your voice not reflecting the cocky grin that spread across your face.

“Who the hell is this!” she shrieks, and you make a mental note that she must not be a morning person.

“A friend of your dads.” Your response is once again calm and monotone, trying to stifle the laugh that is bubbling in your throat.

“Ugh! What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N”

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles story #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles blog #harry styles headcannon #harry styles au #dad!harry #one direction smut #one direction fanfiction

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butwhyduh · 3 years

Text

Peeping through the stacks

Jason todd x reader

Valentine’s fic

Warning: smut

I recommend the book I mentioned if you like the classics.

“I have a proposition,” Jason said and your eyebrows rose. “Not that kind. We separate. I grab you a book and you get me one. And we meet up afterwards to go to dinner to see what we got. No cheating. No following each other around. Whoever gives the better gift, wins and gets to control the rest of the night.”

“Sounds like plan. Just know Todd,” you said moving up in his space standing on your tiptoe to talk in his ear. “I’m going to crush you.”

“Only if you win, baby. Only if you win,” he said with a smirk. He opened the door to the largest used bookstore in Gotham. 3 stories with a section of just records and another of old comics, it was heaven. They even had a coffee shop in the back of the second story. You went left and he went right.

You went straight for the classics. Jason would pour over old novels for hours and his favorite were clearly dog eared. You thought about replacing them but, while he’s appreciate it, it wasn’t exactly exciting. You milled around the area, looking at books that were nice but not it. As you moved to leave the area, a section caught your eyes.

If you love the classics but need a book written in the last 50 years:

This is what you needed. A careful list of books that you like next to new books was perfect. Jason had been reading his copy of Moby Dick and talking about the hubris of man recently, heavily alluding to Bruce. You grabbed the recommended book: In the Heart of the Sea.

Now to find Jason. You had agreed to no cheating but it wasn’t really cheating to just watch him if you had already picked. He was probably in your favorite area and you walked upstairs to watch down low.

Jason was holding two books in hand and looking between them both. You felt a thrill to watch him. He almost always caught you quickly but the store with multiple patrons and levels must have thrown him off a little. He finally grabbed a book and looked directly up at you with a smirk. You threw your fist playfully. He’s certainly caught you. You came downstairs with a grin.

“I knew you were watching me. That’s cheating,” he said. You held the book behind your back as you kissed his cheek.

“It’s not cheating if I didn’t change my book,” you protested and he kissed your forehead.

“Tell yourself that. Let’s check out and then I can win,” he said, wrapping an arm over your shoulder and walking to the counter. You both laid them down, face down because you’re competitive, and paid. You carried two separate bags and held hands as you walked down to a little cafe on the corner.

The place had the coolest vibes. Fresh coffee day and night, records and music memorabilia on the wall, and a band of musician played on a tiny stage every night. Valentine’s was no exception. You found a table in the back and promptly ordered your favorites from the menu.

“Okay. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” you said with a grin.

“I thought we’d wait until tonight to do that,” Jason said with a roguish wink. “Oh, you mean the books. Yeah, let’s swap.”

You gave him his bag and he yours. It almost looked like a drug deal if it wasn’t books. You pulled out the book. A continuation of a series you loved but had a hard time finding the next parts. Jason pulled out his and read the back.

“Okay, you won,” you said with a teasing scrunch of your face. “This is really great.”

“This looks great. But you did cheat too...” he said pretending to take his time deciding. “I guess I’ll take the win. But it was pretty close, I’m not going to lie.”

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Seriously, I can’t wait to bore you with more whaling facts.”

“I’m taking it back,” you said and he laughed. “I can’t learn anymore. I’m not kidding.” Jason’s eyes smiled too and you loved the sight. He looked happy. You food arrived and a folk band started playing.

As your food dwindled and it was fully dark outside, Jason’s gaze lingered on your body. His hand sat on your knee as you talked.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said randomly and you exhaled quickly with a shy smile as you looked away. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay,” you said, letting him pull you from the cafe and a few blocks down. Jason pulled you close and rubbed his nose against your cheek. You turned your head up to close the space between your lips. It started as soft, gentle, cute. But Jason gripped your hips and pulled you closer and you wrapped your arms around his neck and before you knew it, you were being pushed against a wall as he kissed down your throat. You made soft sounds as he nipped and kissed the sensitive skin.

“Jason,” you said breathlessly. He hummed against your skin. “Take me home. Take me home.”

You ran your hands along the muscles under his shirt as you rode behind him on the motorcycle. Jason insisted on helmets and you wished you could kiss at the back of his neck. Probably best. Your hands on his stomach were distracting enough.

Jason barely drove the bike into the parking garage of his building before pulling off his helmet and turning towards you. You did the same. Neither of you climbed off as you made out. His tongue slid in your mouth as his hands held the back of your skull in place. He reached behind him to turn it off as you kissed.

“Upstairs,” you breathed. He nodded before getting up and picking you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed his neck as you walked towards the elevator. The knee high slit in your skirt had scooted up to expose most of your thigh. Luck was on your side as no one was around to watch but security must have gotten a great show with the pair of you aggressively kissing. Jason pressed your back against the wall in the elevator as you rode up to his floor.

He carried you down the hall. You were less lucky as your elderly neighbor was sitting in the end of the hallway as she always did everyday. She’d watch the sunset and people watch everyone coming home from work or school. She giggled and looked away. Jason put you down the second you both realized and you flushed with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry sweetie, I was married once. Happy Valentine’s,” she said with a big smile looking out the window. Jason quickly pulled you in the apartment.

“I forgot about her,” he said. “Gross part is that she’s probably thinking about her dead husband and all the times he used to rail her.”

You glared at Jason. “That’s.... so gross. Why? Like you ruined it. Your dirty mouth.”

“I can get it a little dirtier,” he said with a wink but ruined by bursting into laughter. “Like do old people blow each other? Can their hips bend that much? I know their knees are bad. What age did they have to give them up?”

“Shut the fuck up. That’s so gross,” you said putting you hand over his mouth and he laughed before pulling you close.

“You look really pretty tonight. I forgot to tell you because I kept staring at you,” he said with a soft look. He bent and kissed you sweetly. Not rushed or hard like earlier. He slowly pulled you to the bedroom. You pulled each other’s clothing off as you walked. Shirt here. Pants there.

“Thank you. You look good too,” you said as you pulled the bedroom door closed. Jason rolled his eyes. He never agreed with you but had given up on arguing.

Jason pulled you on top of him in bed. His nose ran up your throat until his lips met yours. He was slow and deliberate in his movement. His hands roamed your body as you moved your legs to straddle him. You didn’t bother teasing either of you but instead sunk down on him.

“Princess,” he breathed with closed eyes. You sat for just a moment, get used to him, before starting to move. You bent at the waist to give him long deep sloppy kisses. “Baby,” he pleaded before you started moving.

“Remember, I won,” Jason said.

“Yeah,” you asked with a grin. “What do you want, Jaybird?”

“This. Keep riding me. You look so good,” he said breathlessly. His hands gripped your hips as you bounced. He grimaced as you swirled your hips. “Fuck!”

“Oh we like that,” you commented. He chuckled distractedly. Jason pulled you down to where he could kiss and nip at your chest. You whined as he took your nipple in his mouth. He let go with a loud smack.

“Mmm someone seems to like that,” he quipped. You pressed yourself back towards his face and he chuckled against your skin before giving your breasts the attention you wanted.

“I love your Valentine’s gift. You’re so thoughtful,” you said breathlessly. Jason looked up at you confused.

“Yeah no problem. Is now the time?” He asked with his eyes half closed and mouth open as he breathed heavily. His hips jumped to meet yours and he reached a hand down to rub circles on your clit. You moaned loudly and he smiled as he watched you come undone. He thrust your faster to finish with you. You both moved together jumpily as you buried your head in his neck. You breathed for a few second before softly kissing his lips.

“I seriously loved today,” you said.

“Yeah, I’m glad. Me too. Surprised that no one call-“ Jason started before his phone rang and he sighed. “At least we finished. I’ve got to take this,” he said and you rolled off and curled in the blanket. He answered the phone as he threw on boxer briefs. He looked at you wistfully as he talked. It sounded important.

“My source said Black Mask is getting a shipment early this morning so I’ve got to go. We can’t have those guns on the street,” Jason said after hanging up. He leaned over to give you a dizzying kiss. “I’ve got to go but here is your book and a glass of water. Don’t stay up. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“Be safe,” you said before he climbed out the window.

“Aren’t I always,” he said and you just knew he was grinning under the helmet before jumping from a 6 story window. No, you thought, no you aren’t.

#jason todd x reader #Jason todd smut #red hood x reader #red hood smut #batboy smut #valentine fic

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harveywritings92 · 3 years

Text

BNHA Scenario: The stain...

Summary: Your period came early unfortunately you don't know this your boyfriend on the other hand saw your pants/shorts/skirt etc... had a noticeable red stain on them when you sat up, from your p.o.v he's acting weird and clingy trying to give you his jacket while trying to walk behind you...

TW: blood

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Dabi: You had no idea why Dabi was suddenly so insistent you put his jacket on... you were just sitting around it was slow and rainy day, no one really wanted to do anything or rather were too bored and tired to do anything but watch TV or sleep, suddenly you felt like you had the sudden urge to go to the bathroom. You stood up, Dabi looked up at you and choked on his rum and coke, you and half the bar looked at him confused as the faux raven haired man stood over you blocking their view of you while taking off his jacket. "hey, p-put this on." he sputtered clearing his throat holding it out to you.

You looked between him and his stinky coat. "No way... it smells like that salve your rubbing on yourself!." trying to push the coat back to him, why he doesn't use the burn salves and skin lotions you got him is beyond you, Apparently smelling like spearmint and chamomile isn't considered 'manly' enough in Dabi's book, But smelling like the inside of a donkey's asshole is acceptable? You grimaced and got ready to leave when Dabi forcibly wrapped the coat around you and you were pissed and ready to snap at him for stinking up your clothes when he leaned in and whispered. "You're on shark week and bleeding over the place."

he watch you go pale and look at the stool you were just sitting on, and saw a large wet bloody streak just chilling. "Don't make a scene, just walk." Dabi hissed as the two of you calmly walked to the back stairs but paused as Shigaraki came downstairs; eyes glued to his Switch as he walked over to the bar, You watched on in horror (and to Dabi's amusement) as the LOV’s leader sat down on the ruined blood stained stool completely oblivious. "Walk faster." Dabi said hastily to you as the white haired man started shifting in his seat confused why it was wet, the two of you speed walked up the stairs just in time to hear a startled Shigaraki bellow out. "WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST SIT IN?!?" You and Dabi hid in his room all day...

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Izuku: He let out this shock squeak as you got up from the grass and saw your skorts had a large red stain on them. "Y-y/n could you please come with me?" he sputtered trying to lead you to a park bathroom. "Why?" you asked looking at Izuku oddly as he circled behind you or tried to... you kept spinning around to face him wondering what's gotten into your boyfriend? "Uhmm, it would probably help if you followed me first." he said again jumping behind you.

Now frustrated you stood up to your full height staring Izuku in the face. "Not until you tell me what going on...." you huffed as he started sweating nervously causing you suddenly feel wary of him, it's like he was embarrassed and didn't want to be seen with you.... did he want to break up? "Are you ashamed of me?" you murmured and Izuku started shaking his head. "No, No...Y/n nev-" you cut him off in tears now.

"Then why are you being weird?!" you demanded through sobs as your broccoli haired boyfriend hastily wrote down something on his note and showed it to you, You sniffled as you read it. {You've bled all over your skorts.]…

He watched your face change from sad and angry to horror and embarrassment. "Now will you please let me take you to the restroom?" he whispered desperately you nodded as he grabbed your backpack knowing you had some spare exercise clothes inside, and the two of you walked to the restrooms.

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Shoto: You were at a gala with Shoto barely five minutes in, when he noticed the white dress you were wearing was starting to match his hair! He was calm and quiet about it. Knowing making the situation public would embarrassed the hell out of you, he'd seen Fuyumi go through social hell because Natsuo, his older brother thought he was helping his sister when he loudly pointed out that her period had started and she was bleeding all over herself without realizing it.

He cleared his throat and offered you his coat you thought he was just being courteous and took it, but the Shoto carefully wrapped arm around your waist and started leading you to out of the gala and to his car, which confused you.

"Shoto we just got here." you said warily as he made sure no one was following and leaned in close to your ear. "I didn't want upset you but... you're bleeding through your dress." he whispered your face felt like and probably looked an overheated stove element as he lead you down the stairs before anybody noticed you two were gone, he brought you back fifteen minutes later in a navy blue dress which no one questioned.

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Hawks: He ran into you while around the end of his patrol, you were just out late grocery shopping when he came up behind you and noticed your pants were turning red, he nearly scared the tar out of you! when one second you looking ahead down the street and the next your vision is blocked by a sea of red feathers.

"Kewgru!" you huffed through his wing as it pulled you towards your birdbrained boyfriend. "Hey there Angel how ya doing?~" he said as you manage to pull your face from his plumage. "Fine, ya mind getting your wing off me? it's kinda hard to walk..." You not realizing he was walking you somewhere "Aw... But I missed you!" the blond cooed pinching your cheek, causing you to look at him oddly.

"Missed me? you spent the night-" a group of fans suddenly came running over asking for autographs, Still Keigo didn't take his wing of you, which cause some of the female fans to glare daggers at you as he pulled you closer. "Sorry to cut this short guys my girlfriend's not feeling well!" Hawks said apologetically as the fans murmured in disappointment.

One of the girls was bold enough to approach. "Oh but it's soo late and thought heroes didn't leave pretty girls alone?~" she said in sultry tone as Keigo and you stared at her. "You absolutely right." he said wing tightening around you reassuring you that he wasn't going anywhere.

The fan-girl looked at you smugly; smiling like she'd won the grand prize, only to watch in shock as Hawks pull you into a deep kiss before looking at you with adoration. "Lets go my little Dove.~" he purred leading the two of you away leaving his stunned fan-girl standing on the sidewalk in disbelief as the other fans snickered pointed at her.

Finally Hawks had gotten to the destination he was in a hurry to reach, his apartment. "Keigo...why are you acting weird...is it Y'know???" you as referring to his rut, the blond man blushed rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh... no, just wait until we're in in private" The winged man gestured the security cameras.

he waited until the two of you were in his penthouse, he finally pulled his wing away from you, and you turned to face him only to let out a shocked gasp upon seeing blood on Keigo's pant leg. "Oh my gosh, Keigo you're blee-" he blushed cutting you off. "Not my blood, it yours." You blinked at him confused before looking behind you at large window seeing your reflection...And the stain.

The realization kicked in, why he was acting weird and not taking his wing off you! "Thank you...k-Keigo." You manage to stammer out before heading for the shower. "Anytime Y/n, anytime." He said clearing his throat and going to his room to out of his gear before realizing *I've got a hot girl in my shower...* he smirked and went to join you.

#boku no hero academia #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #tw menstrual cycle #Dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #Touya todoroki x reader #keigo takami #hawks #hawks x reader #todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko

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imagineaworlds · 3 years

Text

Bunny and Baby -- Poly!BAU Team

(Edited version for a broader audience. You can check out the full version on @hotch-and-bunny)

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Dom/sub relationships, Sir kink, Mistress kink, Ma’am kink, Daddy kink, dirty talk, restraints (handcuffs), collaring, leashes, edging, orgasm control, orgasm denial, ruined orgasms, degradation, mild choking, pegging, impregnation/breeding kink, minimal in-chapter aftercare, though it is alluded to happening afterwards. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, the team refers to them as female when saying “good girl”, “princess”, etc.

Pairing: Nonbinary!Reader (fem anatomy) x BAU Team.

Dynamic (in order of superiority): Sir!Dom!Aaron Hotchner, Ma’am!Dom!Elle Greenaway, Mistress!Dom!Emily Prentiss, Daddy!Dom!Derek Morgan, switch!Reader (sub in this plot), bunny!sub!Spencer Reid.

Word Count: 7645

Criminal Minds Discord Server

We had been returning from a case in Louisiana, everyone sitting comfortably in their own seats on the jet. Hotch and I were beside each other— I was pressed between him and the window— Morgan was across from us, Emily and Elle were across the aisle and a row back, and Spencer was laying on the couch. Rossi hadn’t come with us because he had a family emergency. Emily and Elle were the only ones talking while the rest of us were quietly working on our own things; but Spencer was just half asleep on the couch, trying to catch up on some rest. He told us before we boarded that he had another headache that kept him up all night, and we all scolded him for not coming to one of us and seeking help because we always knew what to do to help him. He insisted that it wasn’t a big deal, though. While I didn’t entirely believe him, we all decided to let him rest during the flight.

It wasn’t until there was a bit of turbulence that made me grab onto Hotch’s arm that things got… interesting. The thing was, when it came to Aaron Hotchner, the slightest touch could set him off, and he would get mean because he saw even the simplest of shoulder bumps as a bratty act that needed to be punished. I always had to be careful around him because of that. But I forgot. The plane jumped in the air, my stomach dropped, and before I knew it, I was squeezing his bicep to ground myself as some kind of reminder that I wasn’t going to die or something.

When the turbulence passed, I tore my hand away from Hotch, keeping in mind that I had to keep my hands to myself, but it was too late. He was staring at me. I swallowed hard and tried to go back to my book that Spencer had recommended, which was his attempt to win his favor with me after he pissed me off one day and I wanted to punish him. He was lucky that I wasn’t as mean as Hotch and Emily. Unfortunately for me, however, that meant I was completely fucked because Hotch was still sitting there, staring at me, likely asking himself how I could dare to touch him without permission, even when it was for something as innocent as it had been. I finally dared to look up at him. He was frowning.

“Sir—” I tried to explain myself quietly so that the others couldn’t hear, but he shook his head, silently telling me to stop. I fell silent and gulped.

Hotch, without saying anything, looked back down at the iPad that was sitting on the table in front of him as he was going through emails, scoping out new cases to take on; but what he did after that was somewhat unexpected. His hand closest to me drifted between my thighs. I adjusted in my seat, trying to fix my posture to be “smooth” so that no one else would notice. No one looked up. Hotch continued with his plan, forcing his hand between my thighs, spreading my legs open to give him access to what was beneath my skirt. I should have known that wearing a skirt on the jet was only going to get me in trouble, but with the case having just ended, and with Spencer’s headaches, my attire had been the last thing on my mind. To Hotch, however, it seemed to be the only thing on his mind.

“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered to me. I was surprised Morgan didn’t hear him.

When I nodded, Hotch pressed his index and middle fingers against my panties, finding the sensitive nub that was my clit, hiding behind my labia and the clitoral hood. He was too far. I needed him to press harder to actually feel his fingers, to actually get me to the edge rather than just get needy for him— but my desperation for him and what was about to come was undeniable when he slid his fingers down to hover over my core, discovering a wet spot that was slowly forming. Hotch snickered to himself. I knew that he was probably thinking to himself something along the lines of how he had only just touched me and I was already wet, proving to him that I was always thinking about having one of them— if not all of them— fuck me.

Hotch moved back up to my clit, and he pressed hard enough that I could feel him, but not enough to actually give me everything I wanted. Slowly, he started rubbing circles over my panties. A quiet sigh left my lips as I leaned back in my seat, moved my hips forward to give him better access, and I screwed my eyes shut. There was no doubt that if Morgan happened to look up, he would know exactly what was happening.

As Hotch’s fingers started moving faster, I rolled my hips eagerly to make his pace in an attempt to speed up my orgasm, but he pulled away somewhat and slowed down until I stopped moving and waited politely for him to make another move. He went back to what he was doing suddenly. I tensed and tried my very best to hold still this time while also biting my lip to keep myself from moaning. But I was so close again. So, so close. I just wanted to cum for him.

“Sir, please,” I whispered. “Please.”

“Please, may I cum?”

“Ask Mistress first.”

My eyes widened and I looked at him, but he was still reading his emails, so I looked over at Emily. She was still casually talking to Elle without a single clue as to what a mess I was while sitting next to Hotch. I shook my head. I couldn’t. I couldn’t beg like that randomly when they were all doing their own things. So, Hotch shrugged because he didn’t care one way or the other. If I wasn’t going to ask, he wasn’t going to let me cum, and for him, that was fun and it didn’t matter. But to me, it mattered. His fingers kept rolling over my clit again and again, and it was getting unbearable, it was getting torturous. So, I dared to give in.

I let out an audible moan while leaning forward to grab onto the table to hold my orgasm back, and I croaked, “Mistress—” Everyone stopped what they were doing to look over at me. There I was, clearly falling apart as Hotch’s arm was suspiciously moving in the direction that led just between my thighs. Emily was staring at me. “Mistress, please, may I cum?”

Her mouth fell agape in shock when she realized what it was that Hotch was doing and why I was asking. She looked between me and Hotch. “Have they been good?” she asked him.

“No,” he said nonchalantly.

“Then, no, you may not cum, slut,” she said to me.

I whimpered and increased my grip on the table until my knuckles were turning white. “Please! I’m not going to last!”

“You cum, you get punished,” Morgan said.

“Fuck…” I tried wiggling away from Hotch, but it was useless since I was trapped in the seat next to the window. “Please…” I was breathless now. “Please… I can’t…”

“And what are you doing?” Elle questioned roughly, squinting at Spencer, scolding him for something I couldn’t see.

Spencer floundered and stuttered from the couch. “I— Um. Nothing, Ma’am. I’m sorry. It was nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Fuck—” I moved my hips around again with Hotch’s fingers as my orgasm suddenly washed through me, a shiver running down my spine as my toes curled in my shoes, my thighs shook against the leather seat, and my walls clenched around nothing. “Shit.” Hotch slowed his movements as I came down from my high. My eyes quickly scanned the interior of the jet, catching how they were all scowling at me, unpleased with how I had cum without any of their permission. My heart sank in my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“First, Spence starts touching himself without permission,” Elle began as she stood from her seat and started approaching the couch. I sat up a bit in my seat so that I could look over my shoulder to see Spencer sitting up somewhat now, an erection straining his pants, a small wet spot on the front from his pre-cum. “Then, you cum without our permission.” She ran her fingers through Spencer’s hair, then once she was far enough in, she curled her grip, roughly pulling at his curls to make him sit up all the way. “And the two of you still had the audacity to say that you’re sorry. I don’t think they’re actually sorry; do you, Morgan?”

“No,” he answered, also disappointed in us.

“We didn’t train brats,” she hissed, pulling at Spencer’s hair again, making him whimper.

“His headache, Elle—” Emily warned quickly.

Elle froze when she remembered, and she tried removing her grip from Spencer, suddenly aware of how she might have hurt him in her fit of anger. “I’m sorry, Spence—”

But he cut her off by gently taking her wrist and leading her touch back to his hair, encouraging to pull again. “It’s gone.”

“Don’t lie, bunny.”

“I’m not, Ma’am.”

She smirked and tugged again, bringing him to his knees. “Then the two of you have no excuse for misbehaving. Their punishment, Morgan.”

Hotch slid out of his seat and moved to the back of the jet where Emily was still sitting so that there was enough room for Morgan to stand at the same time as I did, knowing that it was better than him grabbing onto my hair, too. When we were both in the aisle, my back close to Elle’s, Morgan caught me off guard by pinching my chin roughly in between his thumb and his other four fingers. I pouted my eyes at him. I was trying to silently beg for mercy, but, of course, it didn’t work.

In fact, it made him chuckle. “Princess, you did this to yourself.”

“Daddy, I’m sorry… Please… I didn’t mean to cum.”

“Then, you should have held it like good girls do.”

“Their punishment, Derek,” Hotch reminded.

Morgan rolled his eyes because he already knew what he was doing and he hated that Hotch thought he needed to be babysat while Domming me, even though he didn’t. Morgan and I had done plenty of scenes together. As the only switch in our relationship, it was easy for me to go visit one of them when I needed to be Dommed, whereas I would go to Spencer if I needed to Dom. Each of them were unique Doms, though, and I would seek them out separately, depending on what I needed. I mean, I lived with Hotch, but he could be cruel, and sometimes, I didn’t need that. Out of all of us, Morgan was the kindest. His punishments were never harsh, and playing with him was always easy, compared to with Emily or Elle, who were on the same wavelength, both masters at torturing me with edges, ruins, forced orgasms. When I needed something light, I went to Morgan. When I needed to be completely out of control, not a single thought in my head, I went to Emily or Elle— usually both at the same time. With Hotch, he was everything that Morgan, Emily, and Elle were, but he was also the one who gave me the harshest punishments. Nipple clamps that he tugged on, floggers, plugs, being tied up and left there for an hour while he was gone, cockwarming me until he came and I didn’t. But Morgan was the one that had dictated my punishment. For cumming, he got to decide what they were going to do with me, which gave me a little bit of hope that it wouldn’t be that bad.

“Hands behind your back,” he demanded.

I did so without hesitation, and he spun me around so that he could cuff my hands together. I had a good view of Spencer and Elle now. He was on his knees in front of her, the two of them watching each other carefully— probably because she was trying to decide if he was lying about his headaches or not, and he was trying to gauge how bad his punishment would be. But she was just playing with his hair. We all loved to do that. I mean, Spencer loved it, too, which was why he did it, and it was the easiest way to ease him in and out of sub space. When I would Dom him, our sessions were usually the same. I’d go to his house to find him kneeling by the door, waiting patiently for me while wearing his cute little collar that we all picked out for him, and then he’d cook dinner for me. Sometimes, if he had been bratty, I’d sit in the living room, using him to balance platters in his hands that held my wine glass, any snacks I had, and sometimes even a book or two. If he ever dropped them, I’d punish him. If not, I’d reward him. For rewards, we’d go to his bedroom where I’d worship his cock, but never getting him close enough to the edge to actually make it 100% pleasant. I liked watching him squirm. Even when he had his best days, he knew that I wasn’t going to immediately let him cum because my favorite part about being his Dom was controlling his orgasms. As for punishments, that usually came with tying him up, flogging him sometimes, ruining his poor, little orgasms to make him whimper pathetically, and overstimulating him. I fucking loved the sounds he made during sex. Usually, I could pry them out of him with just a simple praise, but they were always so sweet when I had him tied to his bed, a plug in his ass, and I was riding every single drop out of him, never stopping even after he came inside of me.

His hair, though… One rough tug at his hair and he was immediately our bunny. For aftercare, his favorite thing was cuddling while we played with his curls. Brushing his hair, curling his strands around our fingers, gently massaging his scalp, all of those things prevented him from sub dropping, and it reassured him that he was safe with us, that we loved him, that he was going to be okay. I loved his hair. In fact, I was obsessed with it. Watching as Elle played with it and he nuzzled against her with a hypnotized, submissive smile on his face, I felt myself lighten up, too.

“Come here, bunny,” Morgan beckoned Spencer over to us. After Elle released him, he crawled around her and stopped just in front of me. “Take their skirt off.” Spencer did as he was told, reaching up for my waistband, quickly pulling my skirt down to my ankles. I helped him by stepping out of them. “Not their panties,” he warned when Spencer moved for those, too. Spencer dropped his hands to his lap. “Can you see how wet Sir made them? The mess they made from breaking the rules?”

Spencer nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Don’t be like them.”

“Spence, where’s your collar?” Elle asked, already digging through his bag that she retrieved from one of the overhead bins. I heard another one open behind me and Morgan, probably something that Hotch or Emily were looking for. “Nevermind.” She found Spencer’s collar and leash in his go-bag and brought it over to us. “Presentation.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Spencer looked up somewhat so that Elle could see where she was positioning the collar over his Adam’s apple, and then he looked down and moved his long hair out of the way so that she could clasp it together.

“Presentation,” Morgan whispered in my ear. So, that was what the other overhead bin had been. Hotch had probably gone digging for my collar, too.

The rule with me and Spencer was that we weren’t allowed to wear our collars in public because the whole point of kink was that all parties were consenting adults at all times. If someone wasn’t consenting to the scene, it had to stop immediately. The thing with wearing an obvious O-collar out and about was that the general public couldn’t consent to viewing it. Yes, it looked like a choker if you were oblivious, but it still wasn’t fair. And we didn’t like to draw attention to ourselves, anyhow. So, Spencer and I could never wear our collars in public, but we always had to bring them in our go-bags in case a situation like this arose where we were at the hotel and needed to submit, or, yes, even on the jet. This had only happened once before, though, to be fair.

When Morgan finished clasping my collar around my neck, he pushed me to my knees, my face even with Spencer’s. His breath was hot on my nose, our lips so close I could nearly taste him, but Elle tugged on his leash, pulling him back, and Morgan tugged on mine, pulling me back. We both whimpered at the feeling. “You don’t get to touch each other,” Morgan hissed. “In fact, Y/N, you don’t get to touch anyone at all.” My eyes widened and I looked up at Elle, almost as if I could read the look on her face to see how the rest of them were feeling behind me.

She was smirking. “Bunny’s so hard…” Elle teased, pulling on Spencer’s leash to have him lean back against her thighs. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted.

“You’re lucky that you only palmed yourself without permission. If you would have done anything worse, we’d be making your punishment no-touch, like Y/N. What do you say to us for sparing you that torture?”

“Thank you.”

“Good boy.”

“Let’s move them to the front,” Morgan told Elle so that she could pull Spencer onto the couch to give him room to make me crawl towards the front of the jet where no one would bother me. “Go on,” he encouraged. I started crawling, and when I made it where he wanted me, he had me turn around so that I was facing the entirety of the team. “Now, you get to sit here and watch.”

“Daddy?” I questioned, unsure of what he meant.

“And not talk.” He crouched and kissed me gently. “This is what you get for breaking the rules.”

“It’s useless to keep apologizing; isn’t it?” Around Morgan, I could talk to him like that, which was a little more casual than most scenes called for, but with the others, I could never say anything like that. Morgan understood, though. He nodded and kissed me again. “Give me a toy, at least. Edge me, ruin me— Anything.”

“No.” He stood back up.

Elle had Spencer’s pants on the ground now, and Emily had moved to the couch to peel his shirt off. As Morgan approached them, Hotch moved closer, too. I watched as the four of them dedicated their entire attention to Spencer, kissing his jawline, nibbling on his earlobe, running their thumbs over his sensitive nipples, and Elle worked her hand down under his briefs. I rolled my hips around for friction against my soaked panties when I heard Spencer let out a breathless moan just before Hotch kissed him to shut him up.

“Don’t let him edge,” Emily warned as Elle continued to play with Spencer inside of his underwear.

“Aw,” Elle cooed with false sympathy against his cheekbone, “is bunny already close?”

He nodded eagerly while pulling away from his kiss with Hotch. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Well, I think it’s only fair to make you ask Mistress for permission the same way Y/N had to.”

He turned his head to look up at Emily. “Please, Mistress?” He sounded just as desperate and pathetic as I had. “May I cum?”

“You touched without permission, though, bunny,” she said to him. He shook his head, knowing that was her answer without saying what she actually meant. “I know that listening to Y/N beg was overwhelming for you…”

She dragged her nails down his chest, making his chest tense up. I saw the way his little stomach sucked in, and I whimpered again. I wanted that to be me touching him. I loved the little tummy he had now since we had helped him get over his addiction since Mexico. He was so healthy now, which meant eating well, something we regulated, and it gave him a cute, healthy, tummy that showed when he was wearing his belts with a button down shirt. I loved praising that part of him. Sometimes, it was obvious how self-conscious it could make him, but when we let him know how much we loved it and how proud we were of his progress since Mexico, he would love it, too.

Spencer bucked up when Elle pulled her hand out of his underwear, leaving him hanging on the edge. Hotch grabbed Spencer’s hips and pushed him back down onto the couch with a huff, probably still angry about me, but now it was worse since Spencer was acting up. I saw Spencer’s cock twitch helplessly behind the constraints of his clothes. He was trying to reach for someone’s hand again, but Morgan collected his wrists together and took Elle’s handcuffs, using them to restrain Spencer the same way I was restrained.

“Please,” he pleaded. “Something. Anything. Please.”

“My bag, Hotch,” Emily muttered, focusing on getting Spencer out of his underwear now. He let out a sigh of relief when his cock bounced freely against his stomach. Hotch scrambled to Emily’s go-bag at the back of the plane and started digging in it for something. “The red one—”

“I know,” he grumbled. “I know.”

He pulled out three things, holding them up long enough for me to inspect from where I was kneeling on the opposite side of the jet. The red strap on that Emily loved to fuck Spence with, a bottle of lube to help him take her easier, and the worst part… Honestly, I didn’t know what was worse, what I was enduring or what torture was awaiting Spencer with the last toy Hotch retrieved. I didn’t even realize Emily carried it around with her. How did she even think to bring such a thing? I mean, I understood the red strap and the lube, but… that? I almost felt bad for Spencer. At least I got to cum earlier, even though I wasn’t supposed to, but it seemed like they didn’t want Spencer to cum at all. I felt sorry for him. If I wasn’t so far into sub space, I probably would’ve snickered with the rest of them, thinking about all of the wicked ways I could have tortured him with it, but… No, I couldn’t while we were both being punished.

“If you want to touch so bad,” Hotch said while returning to the couch, “then we’ll touch.” Spencer’s eyes widened when he saw the last toy. “But we won’t let you cum.”

He struggled against his Doms’ holds as Hotch knelt down to begin the tedious process of sliding the tight metal cock ring over Spencer’s length. Spencer cursed at the feelings. I had no doubts that the ring was cold to the touch— which was an unbearable feeling for him— and it was probably so tight on him… When it reached his base, it kept all of the blood right where it needed to be to ensure he stayed hard. And then Hotch grabbed the string version of the cock ring, which was entirely adjustable, so he slid it over Spencer’s balls and tightened it. Spencer cried out.

“Sir—” Spencer moaned pleasantly as Hotch suddenly dipped down and wrapped his lips around Spencer’s cock. “Thank you, Sir.”

Emily came over to torture me. She pulled at my leash, choking me, tugging my head back somewhat. “Keep your eyes on Spence.”

My gaze was narrowed down my cheeks and my nose so that I could watch as Hotch slowly licked his tongue around Spencer’s sensitive tip that was still leaking pre-cum. I knew he tasted good. I knew that he was probably a leaking, pathetic mess, and Hotch was enjoying every second of torturing him; and I wished that it were me instead of Hotch.

Without warning, Emily pressed her index finger against my clit, making me jolt.

“Fuck!”

Emily snickered and started rubbing my clit faster.

“Mistress, I’m close. Please.”

“No.” She kissed the tip of my nose before pulling her touch away. I leaned forward to regain her touch, but she was already walking away. “Lemme fuck him,” she told Hotch, wiping some of the sweat off of Spencer’s forehead.

“I want to warm him up first,” Elle said eagerly. Hotch released Spencer from his mouth and pushed himself to his feet. “Turn him over.”

Morgan and Emily worked together to get Spencer on his knees on the floor, and they pressed his chest against the couch. Emily tugged at his leash to keep him distracted when he looked over at me with a painful, silent plea for help— help which I couldn’t give. He accepted his fate, closing his eyes as he waited for the next step.

“Let me hold him,” I begged. “Please. I’ll serve you all while I do it!”

Elle squirted some of the lube onto her index and middle fingers before rubbing them up and down Spencer’s slit. He tensed up. “Fine,” she said, still concentrating on him. “Come here.”

Morgan sat on the couch, his thigh just beside Spencer’s head so that we couldn’t make eye contact from where I was anymore. I started crawling towards all of them, letting Morgan pick up my leash when I was close enough so that he could tug me forward. He spread his legs so that I was sitting between his knees. “Suck,” he commanded, beginning to take his pants off.

I took the moment with nothing to do as an opportunity to finally turn my head to look at Spencer who still had his cheek pressed against the couch. I leaned down and kissed him. He perked up and started kissing me back. Just as it got more intense, the two of us fighting for dominance in our kiss, I felt him suddenly back down when Elle slid her fingers into his tight hole, causing him to moan against my lips. Our hands were still trapped behind our backs, so I couldn’t hold him steady to encourage him to keep kissing me, I couldn’t tangle my hands in his hair, and I couldn’t even reach to hold his hands as they struggled in his cuffs.

“Baby girl,” Morgan called, waiting for me.

“Stop ignoring him,” Hotch hissed, pushing my panties to the side and sliding his thumb into me. “Shit.” He sounded so turned on. “Fuck, baby.”

“You and bunny,” Elle chuckled. “The two of you can never hold it together. Pathetic.”

Spencer and I moaned happily in response to the degradation.

Morgan, now completely impatient, held my head between his palms, tore me away from Spencer, then turned my gaze before pushing my mouth onto his cock. He kept moving me until I gagged. I felt Spencer rut against the couch when Elle must have curled her fingers against his prostate or something, and I followed suit when I felt Hotch replace his short thumb with his long cock. I thought I was supposed to be facing punishment— Not that I was arguing. Even if I could talk, I wouldn’t have brought it up, because at least I finally got him. He always felt so good. He was so long, but not as thick as Morgan, not that it mattered. Both of them knew how to please me, and that was what mattered more than anything.

“Jesus, baby girl,” Morgan moaned, throwing his head back.

“He’s ready,” Elle said. Spencer whimpered when there was a loss of contact between them after she pulled out of him and stepped away, giving Emily room to kneel behind him and line up her cock with his ass. “Are you going to be good for us, bunny? No cumming?”

Spencer whined. “I don’t know, Ma’am.”

“Promise or we won’t fuck you.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he insisted quickly, realizing his mistake. “I won’t cum. I promise.”

“Good boy.”

Suddenly, he was pushed forward when Emily roughly thrust into him. I pulled my mouth off Morgan long enough for me to catch my breath and moan as Hotch continued fucking me softly to torture me, and I looked over to see Emily showing no remorse with Spencer. Poor thing. Elle had stretched him, and Emily took a second to let him adjust, but now he was ruined. Absolutely destroyed. He was going to be wobbling on our way off the jet when we would land, I just knew it.

“I didn’t say you could stop, slut,” Morgan growled, grabbing me by the hair this time to make sure that I wouldn’t move away from him this time. I groaned as I took all of him in my mouth again. Just as he willed it, I bobbed my head up and down, my jaw slack, my tongue flat, my throat open to stop the gagging because he was using me as a hole and nothing else, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Hotch pissed me off suddenly by reaching under me to grab my breasts through my shirt, making me roll my hips eagerly against him. “So greedy.” He thrust roughly into me in an attempt to warn me off of acting out again, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to cum. I had to cum. I needed some kind of relief. “Don’t you fucking dare—” He pulled out of me when he felt me tighten around him. “Brat.” He spanked me hard. “Elle.”

“I thought you understood that we didn’t train brats, baby,” Elle said, backing Hotch up. She teased her cleaned and re-lubed fingers at my ass now while Hotch realigned with my pussy. “You and bunny don’t get to cum.”

I moaned around Derek’s length as Elle and Hotch both thrusted into me simultaneously. He gave me every single inch he had to offer, making sure I felt just how big he was, the way he could reach deep places inside of me that made my knees weak every time. As for Elle, her approach had been a bit slower so that she could be safe. When her fingers were moving in me, she only put them in about half way before gently pulling them out and pushing them back in, this time all the way to the bottom knuckle, and then she curled her fingers. Morgan held me steady as I moaned around him again. The three of them working together to fill each of my holes was… I mean, they had all filled me further before, but this just felt so different… so good…

“Mmm—” Morgan bucked his hips up so that he could fuck my face harder. “I’m gonna cum.” He panted as his fingers gripped my hair harder. He let out a grunt as his whole body tensed, his orgasm finally hitting him like a train. As his cum spilled into my mouth, I used his hesitancy as a chance to finally move my tongue around, stimulating his shaft, making him twitch and squirm a bit more, and I hummed happily around him to make it even worse. They were torturing me, the least I could do was slyly return the favor. “Shit, baby!” He pulled me off before I could continue overstimulating. “Fuck.” His thumb caressed my cheek lovingly for a second. “Go on. Swallow.” I shook my head. I couldn’t. I couldn’t take anything more. I was so full, I felt like I was going to explode. He furrowed his brows. “Swallow, slut.” I kept shaking my head, and I tried to escape Elle and Hotch so that I could find somewhere to spit, but they held my hips still while Morgan grabbed my face. “Swallow.”

I searched his eyes for a moment, quickly realizing that he wasn’t going to release me until I did as he asked. Even if the jet landed and we were supposed to be getting off, probably to head back to mine and Hotch’s place to finish all of this, Morgan was going to sit there with me until I swallowed. I had no choice. While keeping my gaze even with his, I slowly swallowed the load he gave me. When I was done, I opened my mouth to prove my success, and he finally let go of me while grinning.

“Was that so hard?” he teased.

“Mistress,” Spencer moaned, his voice muffled somewhat, “I can’t take it anymore.”

Morgan and I looked away from each other to investigate what was happening, and it was just as our attention was brought to him that we saw Spencer slump as he gave up. Emily was still fucking him, don’t get me worng, but his poor, red, needy cock was leaking, begging for the cock rings to be taken off so that he could ejaculate— and he just couldn’t take the denial anymore. He couldn’t take being on the brink constantly. Holding his posture for her so that he could fuck his ass, keeping his head turned so that we could hear his pathetic noises, all of that meant nothing to him now. They had finally broken him.

“It hurts,” he complained.

“Color,” she whispered, brushing his curls back so that she could lean over his back and start kissing his neck lovingly.

“Green, but I can’t… I can’t… I’m gonna—”

“The two of you and not being able to hold it today,” Elle scolded, moving her fingers faster inside of my ass. “It’s like we need to teach you guys how to behave again and work on your stamina.”

Spencer and I quickly exchanged a worried glance. We hadn’t done stamina in so long. This was close, sure, but actual stamina training with Elle was the worst— especially if Hotch were there. They liked to tie me and Spencer up so that couldn’t move a single muscle, and then they’d press a vibrator against my clit while Spencer got the fleshlight. For hours, we would have to lay there, edging again and again as Hotch and Elle turned on my vibrator and started fucking the fleshlight over Spencer’s cock, and then they’d stop when we were close enough. It was torture. They purposefully gave us hard edges. The longer we went, the more rewards we earned for the week, but if we came, they ruined our orgasms before painfully continuing, and all of it was for the sake of increasing our stamina during sex and teaching us how to hold back our orgasms until we had permission. It worked after a while. Spencer was a lot worse at it than I was, but we finally got the hang of it, and the two of us were pretty good about holding out until we had proper permission; but there was just something about the atmosphere of being on the jet compared to being at someone’s house or in a hotel room that had our brains melted down to nothing. I had orgasmed once without permission, and there were multiple occasions while Hotch and Elle were fucking me from behind that I felt myself getting there again— and if they weren’t so good about pulling away on time to edge me, I would have cum again without permission, regardless of the punishment. But Spencer… He was trying so hard to be their good boy. He had touched himself without permission, which he knew wasn’t allowed, so he had accepted that he wasn’t allowed to cum, but those cock rings were straining against him, practically milking him considering the way he was leaking so helplessly; and it was just too much for him. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Bunny, if you cum, we’re going to have to put you in your cage,” Emily warned.

“We should anyways,” Hotch panted from behind me.

Spencer shook his head urgently. “No. Please. I’ll be good. I- I prom… I promise.” He sighed as Emily changed her pace while fucking him. “I promise.” It sounded like he was crying now. “I promise…” Our little broken record. “I promise.” Not a single thought in that pretty head of his.

Hotch pulled out of me suddenly and he snatched away Elle’s fingers. My legs shook as my sudden, unexpected, unplanned orgasm was completely ruined. I hadn’t seen it coming. One second, I was watching Spencer fall apart, the next, I was clenching around nothing as my orgasm peaked yet I got no relief from the feeling since they had removed the stimulation when I needed it most. My clit was throbbing. I fell, just like Spencer, my cheek crashing against Morgan’s warm thigh.

“Their cuffs,” Hotch said pressingly. Morgan reached for his pants that were pooled at his ankles, and he grabbed the key from his pocket, then he handed it off to Hotch. “We’re done with you, baby girl,” he told me. I shook my head. I needed to cum. I had to… I had to cum… Geez, I felt as broken as Spencer looked. “Can you stand?” I shook my head again. “Okay…” He freed my hands and rubbed my wrists to ease the pain from every time I struggled against the metal bondings. “How bad is it?” he asked, taking my leash and gently tugging, a signal that he wanted me to turn around face him. I did so. When he saw my face, he chuckled, and Elle followed shortly, the two of them so impressed by how broken I must have looked. I knew that my hair was a mess, my eyes and bottom lip were pouting, and my legs were still shaking. I looked ridiculous. “That bad, princess?” He stroked his cock at the sight of me.

“Fuck them again like this,” Elle encouraged seductively in his ear. “Both of them on their backs…” she said a little louder so that everyone could hear her. “Taking what we give them.”

Hotch fell in love with the idea, immediately shooing Morgan off the couch so that he could throw me onto it. I yelped as I landed on the cushions. My right thigh was just next to Spencer’s face— so close that I could feel his pants against my skin— and Hotch, Elle, and Morgan were standing just in front of me, licking their hips with lust and hunger in their eyes. Hotch was still running his grip up and down his length at the sight of me.

“Look at the mess we made, bunny.” Morgan reached over and pulled at Spencer’s hair, pulling him upright so that his back was pressed flush against Emily’s chest as she used the new angle to fuck him harder and deeper. Spencer’s engorged penis twitched at the sight of me. My panties were soaked with a mixture of my wetness and cum. “Don’t they look so stupid?”

Spencer nodded while screwing his shut in response to Emily’s cock hitting a new spot inside of him. “Yes, Daddy. They look so good.”

I rolled my hips around, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. My whole body was on fire, and I just needed someone to touch me again. I needed to touch Spencer, which was the worst part, because I knew that they wouldn’t let me, and even if I could, a single touch was going to set him off, and I would’ve felt bad if they ruined him, too.

“You want me, baby?” Hotch teased, gliding his thumbs over my hard nipples through my shirt.

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“You want me to breed you?”

I let out a shaky breath before gulping and nodding. “Yes, Sir.”

He stopped fucking with me and he instead went back to stroking his cock. “I know you want to cum, baby,” he cooed, “but you can’t… Rules are rules.” He started fucking his fist faster. “Good girls get to cum.” His breath was ragged now. “You weren’t good.”

Elle grabbed his face and turned him so that they were suddenly kissing, and he pushed his hand past her pants and panties so that he could press a finger directly against her clit. They moaned together.

“I’m going to cum,” Spencer warned. Morgan was holding his leash taut, forcing Spencer to keep his back against Emily’s chest while she moaned into his neck and left a hundred different hickies. “Please. Please, Mistress.”

“No.”

“I can’t hold it.” He was leaking onto my knee now, that was how close together we were.

“I said, no. You cum, you get caged.”

“Fuck—” What Emily said did the opposite of what she had intended. Instead of deterring him from cumming, the threat of being locked up in a cock cage enticed Spencer, tipping him over the edge that he needed so badly. “I’m cumming!”

Just as his dick started twitching, Elle jumped into action, quickly grabbing my hips and turning me so that Spencer was lined up between my legs, and she pushed my panties to the side. Emily fucked harshly into Spencer as he started cumming. The force of her action jolted Spencer forward, putting his tip directly at my entrance. We both moaned at the feeling. I needed him, and it seemed he needed me, because when he felt how wet I was, his weak, repressed load slowly poured into me. He had tried to hold back. I could tell with how sad his orgasm was and how he was whimpering that he didn’t want to cum. He wanted to be good for them. But Emily fucking him, Morgan trying to choke him with the collar, the cock rings squeezing his penis and swollen balls, and my torture that he was witnessing was all too stimulating to every single one of his senses. He had to cum the same way I had to cum earlier when they denied my orgasm.

Emily stopped fucking him to make sure that the orgasm was shorter and to ensure that he didn’t go any further into me than necessary. They wanted his cum to be inside of me, but that was it. They didn’t want either of us to enjoy it.

Without warning, Hotch grabbed my hips away from Elle, putting me back where I was so that I was facing him, and he thrust into me suddenly, cumming within an instant, too. “Fuck…”

He came much harder than Spencer had because he wanted to give me everything, to fulfill the breeding kink we had. All I felt was the stretch and the warmth of his semen, though, because he refused to thrust to help ride out his high since it would have inevitably pleased me, too, and that wasn’t the point. He wanted me to be full and to get nothing out of it.

When he caught his breath, he pulled out of me slowly. I whined at the loss. “Did you learn a valuable lesson?” he questioned.

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Which was?”

“No cumming without permission. Ever. Under any circumstances. My orgasms don’t belong to me.”

“Good girl. Go clean yourself up in the bathroom then come back for water, a snack, and play with Spencer’s hair.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “I’m proud of you, baby.”

I melted at the praise. “Really, Sir? Even though I broke a thousand rules?”

“Even then. You did good.”

Emily got the cuffs off Spencer, and he immediately went to pry off the cock rings, but Morgan slapped his hands away. Spencer stared at me as Morgan started gently pulling off the metal one around his shaft. “Daddy,” he hissed, his eyes clenching shut. Emily and Elle were running their fingers through Spencer’s hair already to help him calm down. “Fuck,” he gasped when it was off. “Thank you.” He then prepared himself as Morgan went to release the tie that was around Spencer’s balls. When the pressure was gone, Spencer slumped, falling somewhat, and we all reached forward to catch him. “Thank you.” Hotch kissed Spencer’s temple and pulled him onto his lap on the couch. “I’m sorry for cumming without permission.”

“We’ll call it even, bunny,” Morgan said, referencing how I had done the same thing. “You and baby did so well.”

Elle grabbed the lotion from Spencer’s bag that he used for aftercare, and she started massaging it between his cheeks as Hotch continued to hold him. “You, too,” she told me while still tending to Spence. I went to sit down, but Emily beat me to it, taking the only spot left beside Hotch, and she patted her hands on her lap. I laid over her the same way Spencer was on Hotch. Our faces were close again.

“May we?” Spencer begged.

“Yes,” Morgan answered.

Just as Elle started using her other hand to massage some lotion onto my ass, Spencer and I started kissing. He tasted so good. It was comforting rather than erotic, and I felt myself slowly easing out of sub space in a way that didn’t let me drop. I hoped that he was okay, too.

I ran my fingers through his curls. “I love you, Spence.”

He kissed me harder before mumbling, “I love you, too.”

----

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc @Braty-angel

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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𝖗𝖔𝖈𝖐 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖆𝖙 || pirate!Jefferson x reader

summary: Captain Jefferson is feared by every would-be sailor, every tradesman of the British isles, even his fellow pirates; yet, he's oddly gentle with you... for now.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: smut (dub con, this is a dark fic! mostly soft dark tho!), unwanted creampie, verrryy slight breeding kink, implied/threatened noncon, unwanted touching, lots of praise, mentions of the plague (but this time it's not the current one), pregnancy mention, alcohol consumption, religion mention, use of a knife (not quite knife kink but not violence either), slight yandere vibes

Perhaps if you had woken up sooner, earlier in the siege of your ship by the pirates, you would’ve had more time to flee and make it to one of the lifeboats. If you hadn’t been so exhausted from a long day beforehand, you would’ve surely roused from sleep at the first signs of trouble. If you had thought to put on boots and not tried to run from your room barefoot, you might have made it further before the invading crew had taken over.

Then again, this all could’ve been avoided if your fiancé had helped you onto the lifeboat instead of leaving you behind to die. Useless fucking bastard. Now here you were in the hands of your ‘saviors’ who pulled you from the flaming wreckage of the ship they themselves had destroyed. Their intentions were anything but altruistic, though; you weren’t a survivor, exactly, but a captive. Survivors didn’t typically have their wrists tied in front of them.

“Pretty,” one of them growled as he ran a finger down your cheek; you turned away as best you could but you couldn’t do much with them holding your arms and circling in so close around you. Another finger pushed against your lips and probed your mouth, the salt of his skin easily the worst taste you’d even experienced.

“Got all her teeth, too,” he noted. “Must be rich.”

“Who gives a fuck if she’s rich?” yet another sneered, reaching to start pulling up your skirt as you tried to kick him away. “All that matters is she’s warm.”

“You know we have to bring her to the Captain,” someone behind you noted.

“Yeah, but can’t we have a little fun first?”

“No,” the voice answered back firmly, making all the men around you visibly deflate.

“Fine then,” said the man in front of you as he dropped your skirt, and you were relieved slightly just to know they had to leave you be for now. “You’d better be a good girl for the Captain, then,” he informed you through his rotted grin, “and maybe we’ll get reacquainted when he’s done with you.”

With that, though they didn’t seem too ecstatic about it, a few of the men in the crowd guided you across the ship, bringing you to a windowed door. at the stern of the ship. It was likely the first mate that knocked; you were too busy being restrained to do it yourself, and the other men were too busy restraining you.

“Come in,” a voice answered from the other side.

The door creaked a bit as it was opened, and you felt the need to recoil further when you saw the man in his chambers, staring you down coldly.

“We found her in the wreckage,” the first mate explained, “figured you would know what to do with her.”

“Oh, I know what to do with her,” he agreed flatly, and you heard a few snickers behind you. “Bring her here.”

You figured ‘bringing’ would involve more walking, but instead they essentially threw you into the room, laughing as you stumbled to the floor since you were unable to catch yourself with bound hands.

The door slammed shut behind you unceremoniously, and you were left to look up at your new, singular captor with watery eyes. He wasn’t nearly as repulsive as the rest of his crew, he was even… not bad looking, if you tried hard enough to see him that way. It helped that he was better dressed and groomed, though he still looked plenty erratic in his own peculiar way. At least you were indoors now, protected from the cold ocean breeze of the evening, and with someone whose gaze was a bit less ravenous than the others that had been on you so far.

He offered his hand to help you up, but you defiantly made your own way back onto your feet.

“A bit of an independent type, I see,” he noted with the slightest smirk. “You must really hate this, then.”

“Would anyone enjoy being captured by pirates?” you asked, voice a little too shaky to really sound properly indignant.

“Many prefer it to drowning in the Indian ocean,” he frowned tightly. “Some might even be thankful to those that show them mercy.”

You were about to ask what he considered mercy, but then he took a knife from a leather holster at his side, stepping closer and carefully slicing the ropes off of your sore wrists. “Th-thank you, sir,” you whispered, rubbing the tender skin, raw in a few places.

“Captain Jefferson,” he corrected instantly, voice tense even though his body language was still relaxed; nonchalant, even. “You’ve yet to enlighten me to your name, darling.”

For a moment you watched him twirl his knife around in his fingers and almost forgot your own name to answer him with. When you did stammer it out, he gave you a smile that lied just between friendly and predatory, white teeth sparkling in the dim light of his lanterns as he sheathed the blade at his waist.

“Lovely,” he cooed. “It suits you. That dress on the other hand,” he frowned slightly as he looked you up and down, “is atrocious.”

“It’s only a nightgown,” you defended, “and it was much nicer before it was torn and sullied by your men outside.”

“Well, I’m afraid it just won’t do,” he decided. “You see, I have a lovely dinner prepared this evening and I couldn’t allow you to dine with me in tattered rags.”

“You’ll feed me?” you realized aloud.

“If you choose to accept my hospitality,” he clarified, and the way he said it made your skin crawl; there were no friendly dinners with pirates, you knew that much.

“Your kindness is… appreciated,” you half-lied, “but I cannot accept. I’ll go to the brig.”

“No, you won't. You’ll be spending the night in my quarters. With me,” he added, making his intentions exceptionally clear.

“I most certainly will not!” you defended, incensed. His jaw tightened as he glared at you, just for a moment, before he turned calm and polite again.

“I could leave you to my crew,” he offered casually. “Forty-eight drunken sailors who haven’t seen a woman since we left port eight months ago... I imagine they would be considerably less kind with you.”

You swallowed, but the lump in your throat didn’t go down.

“So, get changed and join me for dinner,” he instructed. “There’s something you can wear in that closet over there,” he explained as he motioned to it, “and a screen you can change behind.”

It was an odd request, but frankly, you were in no position to refuse it. He walked to the other end of the expansive quarters to examine something on his desk, and you awkwardly made your way to the closet to acquire the garment before you ducked behind the screen.

You didn’t really feel comfortable changing at this point, and you didn’t really trust that he would give you privacy; you stalled for quite some time, just waiting for him to suddenly appear and try to catch you nude, but the moment never came, and you finally relented and began to undress.

Admittedly, it was nice to peel the wet, cold nightgown from your skin and slip into something warmer. The dress he’d provided was a burgundy silk pattern, much more flamboyant and revealing at the bust than anything you would wear in your spare time, but you still indulged in running your hands over the soft fabric and toying with the lace hem of your sleeves briefly. It was slightly old-fashioned and it made you wonder how he’d come upon a dress like this in the first place, let alone what compelled him to keep it.

You tried to tie the lace up the back but couldn’t quite get them all, bending your arms awkwardly to try to reach but sighing as you realized it was useless.

“Um… Captain?” you called out sheepishly.

“Yes?” he answered immediately, voice echoing from across the room.

“Could you help me with the bodice here?”

You didn’t really see him step behind you, but you heard him come closer and felt the warmth of his presence. He delicately brushed his fingers over the back of your neck, ostensibly to make sure your hair was out of the way, before taking the strings in his hands and lacing your dress the rest of the way, tightening it slightly. “Not too tight, is it?” he asked quietly.

“It’s fine, thank you,” you nodded as he tied them. You expected him to walk away but when you turned around he was still there, staring down at you with eyes that were darkened at yet sparkling in the candlelight. “Should I put on jewelry as well?” you asked nervously.

“No, this will do nicely,” he announced, his voice a little deeper than it had been before, his fingers reaching up to brush over your exposed clavicle. “You look beautiful.”

“Um, thank you,” you answered hesitantly, glancing away from his all-consuming gaze.

A heavy silence filled the space between you before he finally broke it with a smile. “The table’s set, you can take your seat,” he explained, stepping back and giving you room to walk to the dining table; it really was a fine meal, one you recognize as stolen from the kitchens of the ship you had been on before, the one that was rubble at the bottom of the sea now. “Is it to your liking?” he prompted, making you realize you were forgetting to mind your manners. It was probably best to stay on the good side of such a dangerous and unpredictable man.

“It looks delicious, thank you,” you rushed as he pulled your chair out for you, and you flattened your skirts to take your seat.

And it wasn’t a lie; around the candelabra was an array of meats, cheeses, and fruits, even some small tarts presumably for dessert. Any other circumstance and you would feel comfortable digging right in.

He didn’t sit across from you right away, moving instead to a liquor cabinet which he knelt before. “I have red wine, aaaand some mead,” he offered as he searched through bottles, picking two to show you. “Or are you a moonshine sort of girl?” he asked with a wink.

“I’ll just take the wine, thank you,” you mumbled. He nodded and poured you a goblet, unsubtly eyeing your cleavage from his new vantage point. You motioned that he’d given you enough, leaving him to pour his own drink and cork the bottle again before taking his seat.

“I hope you don’t mind if I pray before the meal,” he interjected suddenly, “I’m a devout Catholic.”

“Oh, go ahead,” you nodded.

He chuckled slightly, making you feel foolish. “I’m joking, obviously. I’m a pirate.”

“I didn’t want to make any assumptions,” you mumbled. “I’ve heard pirates are superstitious, after all.”

“So religion is superstition?” he mused, lifting his goblet to take a drink.

“That’s… not exactly what I meant,” you compromised as you shifted in your seat.

He just looked at you, seeming to relish in your discomfort, as he began to eat from his plate, still staring at you. "You're not eating," he finally noticed.

"I suppose I've lost my appetite," you weakly explained, pushing a grape across the plate with your fork.

"Is it me? Do I… repulse you?"

You couldn't determine if the question came from insecurity or was some sort of trick. "Um… no," you answered. "But it is the circumstances you've put me in."

"I really mean no harm. It's been many years since I've had a chance to enjoy the company of a beautiful woman for dinner, that's all."

"But I'm spending the night here?" you remembered.

"Yes," he agreed.

No harm indeed, you thought to yourself as you nearly rolled your eyes. "You dishonor me," you protested. "My fiancé—"

"I think we both know he's dead," he interjected sternly.

"He made it to a lifeboat," you informed the Captain.

"Do you not hear the storm outside?" he scoffed, standing up to approach his window and throw open the curtain, revealing the heavy rainfall and lightning strikes on the water. "No lifeboat could withstand that."

Just as you hoped to find something to say to break the silence, something that would distract from his obvious and unfortunate truth, but he spoke again first.

"Say, shouldn't it have been the women and children first?" he realized with a furrowed brow, turning back from gazing out the window to examine you. "How did he make it on and you didn't?"

"There… there was only room for one more…"

"He took your spot," Jefferson realized, before suddenly bursting into laughter. You frowned and felt your eyes sting as you looked at the napkin in your lap. "And you say I dishonor you, when your betrothed left you to die so he could save himself!"

He walked closer, and you tried harder to fight your tears as he leaned in right in front of you.

"We really should thank him for his cowardice, shouldn't we? He's made you the only survivor of the wreck of the Princess Marianna," he grinned, and in a moment of weakness to your anger, you looked up and slapped him across the face.

"It wasn't a wreck, it was a siege," you corrected with shaking anger as the Captain rubbed his cheek, "and I'm not a survivor, I'm a prisoner!"

"Is this how you think prisoners are treated?" he snapped, grabbing your wrist tightly when you reached out again. "Dressed in silk, given fine wine?"

"Stolen wine," you grimaced, "and I assume the same for the dress?"

"No, the dress wasn't stolen. It belonged to the woman I loved before she died."

You straightened suddenly, stunned by his confession. You hadn't even considered that a pirate could really love. "I… I'm sorry."

"So forgive me if I can't muster much sympathy for your dead fiancé, it's just that I can't imagine claiming to love someone and choosing myself over them," he explained with ill-concealed contempt, looking away. "I'd have given my life to save her. But there are no lifeboats in a plague."

Your eyes that watered with rage before now brimmed with sympathy; the hand that reached up strike him before now delicately cradled his face, soothing where his cheek began to turn red. "My mother…" you trailed off. "The plague took her as well. It's cruel to see someone you love rot away."

He looked back at you again and you felt exposed to his stare, like he could see right through you.

It made a chill run up your spine, but it was oddly pleasant. He held out his hand for you to place yours in, guiding you to stand before him as he drank in the sight of you.

"You haven't had any wine," he realized softly. "Drink."

Hesitant but entranced by him, you grabbed the goblet from the table and took a sip. His hand gently tilted the bottom further, encouraging you to drink more, until you were gulping down the whole portion. As you finished, a drop fell down from the corner of your lips; his thumb wiped it away, and he brought the digit to his mouth as he sucked off the flavor from his own skin.

You didn't even mean to watch him dart his tongue out and lap up the liquid, but it made your thighs clench of their own volition. "Sweet," he whispered, and you forgot he was talking about the wine.

He took the goblet from your hand and set it down, turning his attention back to you as he ran his fingers over your shoulder, gentle enough to make little goosebumps prickle your skin all over. His gaze trailed over your face in the same pattern that his fingers did, his delicate touch making you shiver as he caressed your cheek, your jaw, your lips and finally your chin which he lifted slightly.

“Kiss me,” he requested softly.

More willing than you expected or were willing to admit, you leaned in closer to him and pressed your lips to his, chaste at first before he started to pull you closer and move his lips with yours. It was him that traced the shape of your mouth with his tongue before sliding it between your teeth, breathing heavier through his nose and wrapping his arms around you tighter.

You found yourself being pushed back, guided to his Captain’s desk, which he lifted you just enough to set you on. Without breaking the kiss— though it did become much hungrier and more intense— he roughly hiked the skirts of the borrowed dress up your legs, grabbing you tightly as he held you by your thighs.

Perhaps you could blame it on the alcohol, but you weren't even really feeling it yet and you were melting into his touch, moaning softly against his lips. Just when you were beginning to really like his fingers rubbing circles on your inner thighs, he removed his hands from your skirts. Instead his hands fumbled at your back to loosen the very same lacing he had helped you to tie before, releasing you from the dress just enough that he could tear the front down to expose your breasts, which he instantly reached up to grope in the palm of his hand while you both sighed a little at the feeling.

"Beautiful," he sighed as he started to kiss his way to your ear, biting gently around it. "So beautiful…"

You were devoid of words or even thoughts, operating only on primal instinct as you shuddered and fumbled with his coat and vest, hoping to see more of him in return. He smiled against your skin, apparently pitying you enough to lean back and help remove his layers of clothing. When you pulled his scarf away, you gasped at the sight of a scar that encircled his entire neck.

"How did you—?" you began to ask with a concerned whisper.

"I was sentenced and hung for piracy," he explained quickly. "It didn't take."

He kissed you again as he kept stripping with your rushed assistance; you didn't get it all off, just enough to leave him in a loose-fitting undergarment that revealed his scarred, masculine chest which moved with every deep breath he took.

Your fingers trailed down the expanse of skin, your breath a little heavier as you found the belt of his trousers. He grinned and opened it himself with one hand, while the other moved under your skirts again, drifting higher and higher until he finally swiped a finger through your sex.

The feeling made you choke on nothing, and he did it again, gathering and encouraging your arousal. You never got a look at his member, your clothes blocking you from seeing anything useful, but you could feel the shape of it pressing into your thigh.

You didn't know enough about what to expect to be sure that it was particularly large… but you were intimidated either way.

His forehead rested on your shoulder as he guided the thick, spongy head through your folds, seeking your entrance hastily. Even just that pushed your lips wide apart, your head getting dizzy as you realized he intended to put that inside of you. When he found it, just barely beginning to push forward, he straightened up to stare down into your eyes.

“Look at me,” he demanded. “Look at me when I take you.”

Blinking quickly, you did as you were told, looking up at him and feeling your gut sink and your heart twist at the idea of being stripped of your decency in such a way by this man. It was hard to believe it was really happening; it was hard to comprehend the way it titillated you.

All at once, he shot his hips forward and filled you, making you nearly scream though you managed to suppress it to a gasp. He watched you closely the whole time, giving only one moment of stillness to adjust before he began to pull back and start the cycle all over again, each movement stretching you wider than you had ever dared to imagine.

His expression was almost blank, almost unreadable, except for his eyes; they burned with enough passion to consume you in the flames, seeming not to blink as if he couldn’t miss even a moment of your pain and your pleasure.

Releasing you from his stare, he looked at your lips instead which he captured in another dominating kiss, one that trailed over your jaw as he began to really find his pace and increase the brutality of his body carving its space inside yours. More than anything, you focused on keeping your eyes shut and trying to distract yourself from it so wouldn’t audibly moan.

His tongue and lips laved your neck as he thrusted into you, the shadow of stubble on his face just enough to scratch your skin while his hands guided your legs to wrap around his hips. You would surely fall limp onto the desk if he didn’t cling onto you so tightly, strong and calloused hands clutching your back.

When he reached some very specific place inside you, a jolt of energy through your body shot your eyes wide open and your hands up to clutch at his shoulders. “Oh—!” you choked, gasping for air as he drove the head of his cock right into it again. He pulled away from your neck to smile down at you proudly, watching you moan and shiver at the overwhelming sensation.

“Didn’t know it could feel good, huh?” he taunted huskily. “Didn’t think you’d like it?”

He continued his assault on your neck, sure to leave a mark now, and it was all you could do to hang on for dear life as he slammed into you, the loud noises of his skin on yours filling the room.

Pressure built and built inside you, threatening to seize up at any moment. His speed kept increasing, kept pushing you to the edge faster and harder until you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body tightened and relaxed rhythmically.

“Oh god,” he moaned, right against your ear, “beautiful… you can’t imagine how wonderful it feels when you let go for me.”

He didn't slow down even slightly, keeping you suspended in pleasure with every desperate thrust into your pliant body.

"Do it again," he demanded darkly, but you were already spilling over the edge and sobbing at the onslaught of sensations filling you from the top of your head to the ends of your toes (which curled without you even realizing). He grunted as your walls gripped him with every wave of pleasure, his fingers digging into your supple flesh, sure to leave marks in the morning. "That's it," he purred, "give me everything."

You realized with dawning horror that his moans were getting louder and deeper but he showed no signs of stopping to finish outside. “Wait—”

“Fuck,” he hissed against your ear, holding you tighter as you started to squirm. “You’ll make me come.”

“Not inside,” you whimpered, swinging your arms to try to push him away, “you have to— please take it out—”

He growled and grabbed your wrists roughly, making you yelp a little. “You’re mine now. I’ll do with you what I please.”

“No, I can’t,” you whined.

“You can,” he promised through his teeth. “You can take all of it, beautiful… you can take every last drop of my seed inside you.”

You sobbed and struggled but ultimately as you felt his cock begin to flex against your channel and heard his panting breaths against your ear, you knew it was too late and he was spilling himself within you. He groaned and you let out one last weak whimper, going limp in his arms as you felt warmth begin to bloom from your core where he’d filled it.

The only grace he could’ve given you in that moment was just to leave you alone, toss you into the brig like you would’ve preferred in the first place, but he couldn’t even do that: he stayed inside you, holding your face and kissing you slowly while he caught his breath, mumbling praises you didn’t care to parse.

He carried you to his bed, undressing you from the gown until you were bare and had only his body to shield you from the draft in the room.

"I never told you something about my beloved," he whispered in your ear as he cradled your body under the blankets of his bed. "When she passed, she was with child. I lost both of them… and now you'll be filling their space and giving me what she couldn't, what I'm owed."

You blinked blankly through silent tears that streaked down your temples.

"Oh! And I never told you the name of this lovely vessel you'll be residing on," he realized with a breathless chuckle. "Welcome, darling, to the Devil's Fortune. I hope you enjoy it here… because I won't ever let you leave."

#dark!jefferson x reader #dark!jefferson smut #dark!jefferson ouat #sebastian stan dark fic

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fa1ryofshampoo · 3 years

Note

hii! i was wondering if you could do a smut request for heeseung please? where him and the reader are basically always getting cockblocked by the other members leaving both of y’all fed up(especially heeseung). until one day all the boys leave, so heeseung takes out his pent up anger? (i don’t know how describe it lol) on the reader. you can make it as detailed as you want!

thank you and have a great day! <3

hello! here it is! i enjoyed writing this aaA, i hope i did okay here huhu thank you for the request and stay safe! 💟

Thirsty

pairing: lee heeseung x reader

–––––

Today, I have the whole afternoon to myself. Thanks to the strength and power I had I was able to finish the tasks up until noon time. I lie down my bed and scrolled through my phone when my boyfriend's name appeared on my screen, a call incoming.

"Heedeungie." He chuckled at my cute voice.

"Y/N, how are you? Are you busy?"

"I'm good, I'm not busy. I have finished my tasks so I have the rest of the day to spare." I responded.

"Would you like to come over here? I cooked something for the two of us since the boys are all out." I sensed some shyness in his voice on the last sentence. A smile formed on my lips because of my boyfriend's thoughtfulness.

"Okay! I'll text you once I'm near there." We both said our goodbyes and I went to change clothes. Since I'm on the mood to wear something fancier than just jeans and a shirt, I went for a casual dress and a denim jacket matched with my boots. I brushed my hair and gave my pout a touch of my favorite lip tint before I stepped out of my apartment. Dang, it's cold.

While sitting on the bus, I tought of the times me and Heeseung spent on their dorm. Most of the time, the two of us will watch movies or play board games that will eventually end up to us making out in their room. Heeseung, as my first boyfriend, is clingy. He will not hesitate to make the first move and make me feel things I haven't felt before and I love that. One day, when we thought about finally having sex after and when we first tried to do it, Jungwon suddenly knocked on the room saying that the foods they ordered were there already. I remember clearly how hard he was at that time, how I sat on his erection restricted by his boxers and how my school skirt was bunched up to my waist, ready for what was about to happen. But although Heeseung is clingy, he gets pretty flustered easily. That's why when we got interrupted, I know we won't be able to continue anymore. When I came there another time, Heeseung forgot to lock the door so Sunghoon suddenly barged in, thinking the two of us are just chillin' because he heard songs playing inside. But then again, we were almost discarding our clothes. And again, we're interrupted.

Just everytime, every single time we would want to have sex, something has to come up and take away the moment from the both of us. I noticed how Heeseung was flustered and shy the first time it happened and how he was disappointed the last time we got interrupted. I'm wondering if the same thing will happen today even if the boys are out.

I finally saw the familiar sight of their dorm so I went down the bus and texted Heeseung that I'm about to cross the road. Before I could even cross the road, Heeseung was already outside waiting for me. When I reached him he immediately embraced me. He smells so freakin' good, goodness gracious. He wore just plain white shirt and a black baggy sweatpants. His hair now black with an almost mullet making him even more attractive. Can he get even more attractive?

"Someone missed me so much, the stares are melting me." I lightly slapped his arm making him laugh.

When I entered the dorm, Heeseung closed the door and trapped me between his arms, devouring my mouth. I was a bit surprised but immediately responded to the kiss. His hands ran down my hands and I can feel him taking his time. We're not rushing things and we're letting our bodies move accordingly. To my dismay, my stomach grumbled in the middle of our make out sesh. Heeseung opened his eyes, chuckling after he realized my stomach complained. I looked at him apologetically and before I could say anything, Heeseung opened his mouth to speak. "It's okay, Y/N. I know I prepared food and before they get cold and you collapse from hunger let's eat now." No wonder I had a big time crush on him up until now.

After eating the foods he prepared, he took my hand and played some upbeat songs to dance jam with. We continued to dance and converse until we finally felt like sitting already. We sat on the couch and decided to drink some soju.

"Time flies so fast, it's already four in the afternoon. When will the boys come home?" I asked him while he poured me a drink.

"Jungwon, Sunoo and Ni-Ki will be home by nine I guess. They said they'll be having dinner outside. Sunghoon, Jake and Jay won't be home until tomorrow morning due to their personal errands." My mouth formed an 'o'. It's very rare that the boys go out and have time of their own.

"Thank you for spending your spare time with me. I really appreciate it." I raised my glass and took a shot of it. "Oh, shoot. That still hits!" My face grimaced with the taste of alcohol. Heeseung laughed at my expression. He know how low my alcohol tolerance is so he never lets me finish a bottle to myself. After a few more shots, I know that tipsy is enough so I stopped. Heeseung drank the remaining drink. Despite the cold weather, sweat formed on his temples. I took a good look at the sight in front of me. My boyfriend, gulping from the bottle, adam's apple shifting with every gulp, his shirt hanging low down to his chest, eyebrows furrowing from the aftertaste of the alcohol. Heavenly.

"You might drool, sweetheart." To my surprise, Heeseung was already mere centimeters away from my face. He played with the lace of the hem of my dress. "You dolled up for me today with this dress despite the fact we're staying at home and it's freezing cold outside." I can only look at him, too tempted of his actions. "I see you wore the lip tint I gave you. I was right when I thought it would suit you." His gaze went down to my lips. He held my hand and I squeezed it.

No words needed, he gave me wet kisses on my neck. "Do you know how much I waited to finally have time with you alone?" He managed to mumble while still kissing my jaw and everywhere else he could. I can feel he's getting impatient but he still made sure to savor every moment. I can only hum as a response. I turned his head to mine and kissed him. The taste and the flavor of the drink lingered everytime our tongues fought. "Your lips taste so good, Heeseung." He bit my bottom lip and held my hair to deepen the kiss. Fervor grew each and every minute, my denim jacket, his shirt and sweatpants now discarded while he held my thighs and I straddled him. He held onto my ass before standing up and giving it a sharp slap that made me yelp. I can feel the erection growing from his sweatpants. I rolled my hips to make my pooling core meet his member that made him groan. I noticed how his half-lidded eyes are now filled with so much lust.

"Heeseung, please just fuck me now." I continued to roll my hips in his. Growing impatient, he pinned me to the wall and bunched my dress up to my waist. He took his cock out and pushed my panties aside. He held my waist as I slowly sat down on his thick cock. When I was finally halfway, he thrusted up and picked up his pace immediately. His movements show how much he's thirsty to do this all along. Heeseung played and flicked my nipples with his tongue while kneading the other one. I didn't know how to react, all I know was the dorm was filled with our moaning noises. "You know how much I wanted to pound into you like this, hm? I know you wanted me to fuck you too huh don't you?" His brows furrowed while his eyes remained filled with lust. "Want me to fuck you real hard? Use your words baby."

"Yes, Heeseung please!" Tears started forming in my eyes from pleasure. "Yeah, I like that. Always say please, baby." I rolled my hips to meet his movements and moaned directly into his ear. I kissed the spot behind his ear making him moan. Heeseung opened their room and lay me down his bed without breaking our kiss and position. Once I was comfortably laying down, he took one of my legs up and placed it on his shoulders. I ran my hands on his well-built chest and his abs. I took time to admire my heavenly-looking boyfriend hungrily fucking me. "Fuck, Heeseung. You look so hot." I cannot contain it any longer. "You too, Y/N, you look hotter than hell." He pulled my dress up and throwing it somewhere in the room, leaving me with my underwear. He took away my bra and without a warning, he tore my panties not wanting to pull out from me. My mouth opened agape in surprise from him tearing my panty and his thrusts growing even faster, hitting a spot that made me emit a high-pitched moan. "Just like that, baby. Doing so good for me." He held onto my waist in the tightest way possible to hold me in place.

"So fucking tight." His growl made me unconsciously clench around him. He kneaded my breasts while the room was filled with the noise of our skin slapping, his growls and my moans. "Fuck, Y/N, I'm gonna cum." He continued to moan my name each time. I didn't know his thrusts could still grow faster and deeper, a knot forming in my stomach making me hold onto his bicep while moaning his name. He drew circles on my aching clit, enough to overstimulate me. It's so intense my legs were shaking and my toes curling. "Me too, Heeseung. I-I'm cumming." He kissed me and rode my high until his own high came, my name and curses leaving his mouth. He pulled out and came on my stomach.

After catching our breaths from the intensity, Heeseung got up to grab tissues and clean the mess. "Finally, no one interrupted us." I chuckled. "Yeah, finally. I was really looking forward to finally having you to myself, Y/N." He covered my body with blanket before lying down beside me. "It's cold, jagi. Please hug me~" This was his complete opposite minutes ago. I snuggled to his chest, bodies sweaty but none of us cared. He wrapped his arms around my body and hummed me a lull while caressing my hair. What an adorable yet thirsty baby, I thought.

#enhypen smut #enhypen #enhypen imagines #heeseung smut #lee heeseung #heeseung imagines #jungwon #sunghoon #jay #sunoo #shim jake #niki #heeseung x reader

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encomium-emmae · 2 years

Text

In the Light

Queen Emma x King Canute, 1.2K, Rated M (+ AO3 link)

The upstairs corridor is strangely quiet as she returns to her chamber with her ladies.

For the past few hours they had taken up residence in the solar, embroidering and gossiping, the light chatter of their voices like a flock of half-tame birds, partially silenced only in their consumption of the mid-day meal.

Emma’s embroidery had progressed very little. Her mind had been elsewhere: on the lines in her ledgers, on the quarterly income of the southern shires and the cost of a good ship, on the memory of his mouth against the inside of her thigh and the way she had held him afterwards, watching the lines on his brow relax into sleep.

Since that first night, he had come to her chamber each evening, making her bed their refuge, their paradise, their momentary escape from the world. The king took such delight in her, in showing her how to please him, and how well she too might be pleased. The gifts he gave her in the dark were nothing less than a revelation. And still, she wanted more. So many hours sharing such intimacies ought to have been enough to sate her hunger, and yet it only seemed to increase, pulling her from her thoughts in the most inopportune of times. Just the other day at Mass, Emma had drifted from the words of the priest, only to return to find herself wantonly clenching her thighs.

This morning he had left as the sun rose, kissing the crown of her head before he reached for his discarded tunic. He would be gone all day, he told her, inspecting the northern city walls and the condition of the old Roman roads, and she should not expect him until nightfall.

Which is why she is surprised to see him now, standing at the end of the corridor, leaning back against the stone wall as if he is waiting for something.

In Emma’s experience, it is not in the nature of kings to wait.

“King Canute,” she says, stopping just in front of him as she offers a nod of acknowledgement. “You have returned early. I hope all is well.”

“It is. Only... once I had gone, I found myself in need of my advisor.” He looks past her, towards her ladies, his gaze commanding. “Return to your mistress’s rooms,” he tells them. “She will follow you shortly.”

They curtsey politely and then depart, skirts softly sweeping along the floors. There is no one left in the corridor, Emma realizes: no attendants, no guards standing at their posts. It is only the two of them.

She holds his gaze, ignoring the heat rising in her chest.

“What advice did you have need of, my lord, that you cut short the day’s work?”

His lips quirk and he reaches for her hand, then begins to pull her down the corridor. A few steps away there is an alcove cut into the stone walls, with sunlight pouring from a large window of leaded glass. Without a word, he spins her and presses her back against the wall of the alcove, his mouth suddenly covering hers.

She would protest, voice some disapproval, find some way to push this mountain of a man the requisite number of steps away—but instead Emma simply melts into him, parting her lips in invitation. His tongue sweeps against hers, soft at first, but then with a kind of need that stirs at her, warming the blood in her veins.

Her arms loop around his neck, drawing him closer, delighting in the feeling of his solid body pressing her against the wall: trapped, but willingly so. He circles his hands at her waist, one of them skimming up along the front of her gown.

They kiss hungrily, desperately, as if there is nothing else—and perhaps there is not. Words are reduced to breaths, thoughts reduced to sensations, everything in the world reduced to the feeling of his skin under her palms. Every place their bodies touch is now on fire, and a shiver runs along her spine despite the heat.

The king tilts his head and begins to kiss along her neck, finding a spot just below her jaw that makes Emma gasp. He feasts there for a moment, earning other sounds from her, and then she starts to feel his hands fisting at her skirts, drawing them up towards her thighs.

She stiffens, the haze of desire suddenly lifting from her thoughts, and reaches down to keep his hand from advancing further.

“Not here,” Emma hisses. “Someone could see.” She is already beginning to regret what they have done, marveling at the risk she was taking in kissing him in such a public space.

“No one will see,” Canute whispers in her ear, his voice roughened by need. “I had Agnarr clear the corridor and put a guard on either side. We are alone.”

She swivels her head to meet his gaze, wanting nothing more than to dispel her growing confusion.

“Why? We are alone each night in my bed. Is that not enough?”

The king smiles sheepishly, Emma’s heart growing warm despite itself.

“I rode out this morning with the sun bright in my eyes and warm on my back and all I could think about was you. What you would look like if I touched you in the light of day, the sun on your face when you took your pleasure. It is foolish, but that is what I wanted. To see you in the light.”

As he speaks, she finds herself oddly bewitched by image he is conjuring. Her memories of him are cloaked in firelight and candlelight, shadows lengthening over their bodies and carving sharp hollows along the planes of his face. What they are doing each night is secret—or at least secret enough—and some part of her wonders what it would be like to step out of the darkness. Would it assuage her hunger for him—or only serve to heighten it?

“If that is what you wanted,” she says, as she offers him a knowing glance, “you might have brought me with you today.”

The king’s expression turns at once from disbelief to amused delight.

“You wish to try this... out of doors?”

For a moment Emma considers it, lets the thought unfold in the deep reaches of her mind. A tree-encircled grove, a deserted hilltop covered in heather and gorse. Canute on his back, attired in nothing but the ancient tattoos that blanket his shoulders, his warrior’s body powerful underneath her. Her hair arrayed in delicate braids like a pagan goddess, some deity of springtime and rebirth. They are surrounded by solely the sun and the wind, a breeze that brushes lightly against their skin, the only sound the echoes of their passion.

The heat of shame floods her cheeks, not only for the fantasy that came to her so easily, but also for the realization that she does want it, more than she was first ready to admit.

“Bring me with you next time and perhaps we will find out.”

The air between them has suddenly grown warmer, and they are already so close, chest-to-chest, thigh-to-thigh. He is looking at her, gray-green eyes searching hers, without a hint of artifice. Emma’s breath catches in her throat as she presses his hand to her leg and begins to draw it up, skirts lifting inch by inch. When they are at her knee he pauses, slipping his hand underneath to reach the prize he sought.

She smiles and arches her mouth to his, her kiss soft as a benediction.

“But I am in the light now, am I not?” she whispers. “We both are.”

gif courtesy of @lomapacks

#vikings: valhalla #vikings valhalla #emma of normandy #king canute #canute x emma #vikings netflix #fanfiction

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bohica160 · 3 years

Text

Omegaverse - Night out with Hound Wolf Squad (pt. 2)

(Sorry this took awhile. Work was crazy this week >< I ended up making this part fem reader.)

ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗMinors gtfo, this isn't for youᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

As you clutched the front of his shirt, he rubbed slow smoothing circles in the middle of your back. You felt his chest begin to vibrate lightly. It took you a second to realize that Chris was purring as well. No one has ever heard this alpha purr. Thankfully for him the music in the building prevented anyone else from hearing it.

While Chris continued to rub his scent on you, Night Howl looked over at the two of you, almost choking on his beer. Tundra slapped him in the back, "Shut up! Don't ruin this!" She hissed at him. Once your scent returned to its normal sweet airy scent, his hands rested at the small of your back. He turned his head down towards your neck, taking a long inhale of your scent.

It was the best thing he's ever smelled. He could never get enough. Always unconsciously trying to be near you. When he released a long breath of war. air against your bare skin, you didn't realize you placed a soft kiss on his neck.. barely missing his scent gland. A small deep grunt brought you to your senses. You froze in embarrassment. Your cheeks flaring up as you squeezed your eyes shut. Chris noticed your body tense up.

"You okay?" He asked softly into your head. You slowly nodded your head, still refusing to move. "Use your words little omega", he teased, causing you to release a small whimper. It's fair to say you are the smallest in the group. But just something about how he said that made you rub your legs together. He kneaded your hips, smirking at your reaction.

While you were both lost in your own little world, your ex made his way from across the room and was walking towards you all. His eyes locked with Chris's dark blues ones. You could feel Chris growl rumbling through his chest. You looked up at him to ask what was wrong, but he hugged you closer to him.

Before you could look over your shoulder to see, Chris stood up from his seat without breaking eye contact, with one arm wrapped around your waist. Umber Eyes and Tundra noticed this unfamiliar Alpha approach you and Chris, the smell of wet dog emanating from him. "Need something?" Chris sounded completely unphased by the other alpha. The other man sneered, "I'm here to talk to my omega", he raised his chin and tilted it toward you.

Tundra appeared next to along with Night Howl and Umber Eyes. "Excuse you?" You frowned, glaring at the man. “Watch your tongue Omega,” he commanded, continuing to stare down Chris. A deep growl erupted from Chris, his scent started to smell of smoke and gasoline. He released you, and moved towards you ex, towering over him. “The only person who should watch their tongue is you. This is my omega, and if you know what is good for you, you will leave", he taunted as he bared his canines.

Your ex's scent faded quickly, if he had a tail it would be tucked between his legs. The man just stood there trying to hold his ground against Chris. However once he let out a growl in warning the man gritted his teeth as he walked away. Chris shook his head, before looking over at you. "Well that's enough excitement for one night. Did you want to head out?”. You looked over at the others. “You guys go ahead, someone needs to watch those fools,” Tundra said as she motioned over at Canine and Lobo, who were still ‘using their charm’ on the dance floor, “We will be okay.” She gave you a wink before you turned back to Chris. He placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you both out of the club. As you passed some of the alphas who were eyeing you, Chris continued to pump out his scent, parting the sea of people.

Once you both made it outside, Chris continued to keep his hand on you, while you guys headed back in the direction you all came from. His scent slowly went back to its spicy musk scent. You both were soon coming up to his car. He cleared his throat, “did you want a ride home?” “No you don’t have t-”, when you looked up at Chris, he gave you a stern look. “I-.... yes please”, your voice soft as you looked down in submission. Chris walked you over to the passengers side and opened the door for you.

Right when Chris got into the car, he could smell the slight change in your scent, “Sorry about everything. I panicked and it was the first thing that came to mind. I didn’t think it would have escalated to that point. I didn’t mean for you to say I was your omega”, you looked down at your lap, too nervous to look at Chris. A blush krept up his neck, heating up his cheeks and ears. He scratched the back of his neck, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in. “No, it's my fault for saying that. It was a step out of line”. Your inner omega was screaming at you. You wanted for him to claim you as his. A battle was happening within you.

“I-I wouldn’t mind being your omega”, you said barely above a whisper as you looked at him in the corner of your eye. The man next to you choked on air, causing him to cough up a storm. He looked over at you, his dark blue eyes glancing between your sparkling eyes and plush lips. You leaned over the center console, pressing your breasts together, giving him a nice view into your shirt. “Do you want that Alpha?” you purred, biting your bottom lip. Chris’s alpha was growling at him, telling him to mark you, to finally claim you. He leaned in just barely brushing his nose against yours, “Is that what you want little omega?”, finally giving into his inner alpha, releasing a low growl, trailing his nose down your jaw and to your neck, lightly scraping his canines against your scent glands.

An ache between your thighs began to grow, your panties wet with your slick, your hands wandering over to his muscular thighs, squeezing them as they got closer to the bulge growing in his pants. “Please Alpha”, he started to nip and suck at the flesh, “please make me yours”. A moan escaping between your lips as he began to swirl his tongue over gland, before pulling back and pressing his lips to yours. One of his hands caressed up your neck, before grabbing a handful of your hair, giving it a slight tug. You gasped against his lips, allowing him to slip his warm tongue into your mouth. The taste of alcohol lingering on him as your tongues pressed hungirly against each other.

You needed to feel more, you needed to be closer to your alpha. Your swollen lips trailed down to his jaw. Loving the prickly feeling of his scruff as your trailed open mouth kisses down one side of his neck, then doing the same to the other side. So lost in the feeling of your lips all over his skin, you maneuvered over the center console, placing both hands on his shoulders lowering yourself onto his lap. The moment you got closer the scent of your slick filled the car, the grip he held on you tightened, as well as his pants.

The kisses became more needy and sloppy, teeth clashing against each other moans being swallowed by each other. You began to rock your hips against him, you clit rubbing just right against the tented pants. You pulled back, eyes glazed over chest heaving, gulping air. You leaned back against the steering wheel, you motioned with your eyes to look down. Once his eyes went to where you rested on him, you lifted up your skirt slowly. His cock twitches in his pants the moment he saw your flimsy panties soaked with your slick.

His head fell back against the headrest, "fuck", he groaned out. He reached out, hooking his finger around the wet fabric, running his finger up and down, rubbing his knuckle against your folds, barely catching on your bundle of nerves. "All of this because of me little omega", his gravelly voice going straight to your core, clenching around nothing. "Please Alpha. I need you to fill me", you sobbed.

"Shit," he hissed against gritted teeth. You lifted yourself up just enough for him to work fast on unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down just enough for his thick cock to spring out, slapping against his abdomen. You wiggled your hips in anticipation, mouth watering needing to finally taste his seed. But you felt like you'd go insane if he didn't fill up your cunt with his member.

"Come here", he purred as he cupped one of your cheeks while the other fisted his shaft. The heat radiating from your sex was making his cock throb and leak pre down the tip. You rubbed the head up and down your folds wetting it with your slick before sinking down onto his fat cock. The burn of him splitting you open was making a heat pool in your lower back, your mouth slightly open with your jaw slack.

Chris was doing everything in his power not to thrust up into you. He moved his hands onto your hips, squeezing with bruising strength. You whimpered as you lifted yourself up just an inch before forcing yourself down the rest of his member, letting out a cry. You sat there for a second, adjusting to his girth. Small tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you squeezed them shut. Chris took this time to coo against your skin as he littered your face with light sweet kisses. Whispering words of praise, "So fucking perfect for me. My sweet omega taking me so well."

You unconsciously clenched around him causing him to thrust up. Punching The air out of your lungs the moment he hit against your cervix. "Alpha", you sobbed against his lips. He brushed away your tears with his calloused thumbs. "I got you" he shuddered underneath you, "your alpha has you". He slammed his lips against yours. He gave you a couple shallow thrusts up into you. Your walls refusing to let him go. He swallowed each of your moans, cock massaging your gummy walls. Making sure you feel every inch and vein.

The windows in the car fogged up, the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your ass filled the small pace. Your walls soon fluttering around him, you release your lips. "A-alpha." "I know. M-me to", he rested his forehead against yours, half lidded eyes gazing into your glossed over one's. The pressure building inside of you was too much. Your hips instinctively rocked against his meeting him with each thrust. He could feel his high coming up on him faster than he wanted, but he was determined to feel you spasm around him before he filled that sweet cunt.

"Cum for me. Cum for your alpha", he rasped. That being the final thing to make the coil of pressure snap. Head falling back as you arched into him, letting out a silent scream. Your walls sucking him in, milking everything he had to offer. "Shit shit shit!", he choked out before closing his jaw around your shoulder. Not enough to break skin, but enough to make your eyes roll into the back of your head as you road out your climax. With every pump he emptied into you, jerking up into you, made you convuls more around him. You fell forward onto him, head tucked right into his neck. He gave you a couple more thrusts before resting his head back against the headrest.

He rubbed slow smoothing circles into your lower back, feeling the heat from his palms sink into your body. You let out a small whimper as you tried to sit up, but that only caused him to twitch inside you, giving you small shockwaves. He placed one of his hands on the back of your head, guiding you to rest back against him. He turned his head to kiss your cheek. "No need to rush." He whispered against your head.

#chris redfield x reader #chris redfield #resident evil #chris redfield smut #reader #resident evil smut #headcanon #resident evil x reader #im not good at writing #alpha chris redfield #omega reader #omegaverse #fem reader #most likely grammar errors

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ultimateluckystudent-writes · 3 years

Text

Restraint

Summary: You and Nagito's flirtations are sickening. Izuru still sees himself as a cure. As per usual, he only makes things worse.

Word count: 5.2k

Content Warnings: Uneven Power Dynamics, Under-Negotiated Kink, Possible Dubcon, Dom/Sub, Spanking, Bondage, Choking, Mentions of Sickness, Degradation, Slut Shaming, Sex As 'Punishment', Slight Breeding Kink, Orgasm Denial, Female Reader, She/Her Pronouns

General Themes/Tags: Despair!Era, Despair!Reader, Sub!Reader, Sub!Nagito, Dom!Izuru, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism

Ao3 Link

A/N: Reader is a slut and Komaeda's a freak what can I say... also I'm sorry for doing this before requests but no I'm not I'm busy writing smut <3

Izuru found that there was indeed a certain kind of beauty to the handiwork of his knots. The candy-apple red rope, the color of the ruined sky, the color of his chemically altered eyes, the color of her nails, the color of despair, looked rather fetching when tied around Nagito’s pale wrists. His green-blue veins ran under it, visible through his sickly, translucent pale skin. Izuru could smell the cancerous cells on his breath alone. Just like a dog! A voice in his head that sounded just like hers sounded. Just like a dog, his own voice repeated.

“Enoshima tells me that your… indecision and cowardice..." Izuru droned as he circled around the uncomfortable, between the wooden chair Nagito was bound to and the edge of bed (Y/N) sat on. Unlike the rest of the ‘rooms’ the rest of the Despair were afforded in their base, which were really much more like modified holding cells, Izuru’s room was fitted with a regular queen-sized bed with threadbare sheets. He didn’t mind the sheets, but he wouldn’t have minded staying in a holding cell like the rest of them either. He wouldn’t have minded any of it.

“Has affected the operations of all of the Despair.” He glowered down at them, the shadows on his face looming even darker from their seated positions. Izuru caught her hands fidgeting in her lap, and how Nagito’s ever-twitching leg began to bounce even faster. “How pathetic.” He said of both their actions and reactions. The woman flinched visibly. Nagito’s leg stilled. “You are both acting like children. Simpering after each other expends so much of your time that you’ve managed to become even more useless to us than before as you fail to complete assigned tasks.” He crossed the room to stand right in front of (Y/N). Though all of his steps were light- in the way only the Ultimate Assassin, or Spy, or Ninja, and or the countless other multitudes of titles he fit aptly could be- or rather, perhaps because of this, both of their throats bobbed with a heavy swallow.

“Therefore,” His voice was quiet, but in the otherwise silent room, his two captives could hear him clearly. He placed his hand on her cheek. It was such a foreign movement from him, so calm, so sudden, that she almost gasped from it alone. It was much warmer than she expected. She realized as he stood over her, his well-fitted suit accentuating the already sharp angles of his perfect posture, his clothes heavy with the smoky scent of the fires blazing outside, his eyes indecipherable, that he was so much warmer than she expected. He thought idly that he could name every muscle in her face that tensed under his fingers. “You have been left to my discretion.”

“Ah, of course!” Nagito finally gushed, breaking the tension between the other two at once. Both of their heads snapped to look at the shaking, beaming man. He seemed to be enamoured with simply the prospect. His arms twitched and pulled at his bonds, but he had no intention of attempting escape. He merely forgot in his excitement that he could not hold himself. “I see no fate fitting more for my dearest- to be left to the hands of the Ultimate Hope- to be graced with Kamukura-sama’s presence, his touch-” He uttered a little moan, his eyes fluttering for just a bit. “For him to have already tied me up like the pathetic little vermin I am… He could truly do as he wishes with us...” Nobody in the room was surprised at his reaction, however, (Y/N) was a bit amused that he had shown his true colors as a fanatic quite so quickly. “Whatever despair he induces can only be overcome by the hope you two inspire by nearly being around me!” His eyes finally seemed to focus back onto his lover. They seemed to warm just by looking at her, a detail that sent an unfamiliar rush through her. If he had looked at her before, she had only just noticed, and was still unused to such… vulnerability nowadays. She quickly looked away. “I can only imagine what you must be feeli-”

“Enough.” Izuru finally snapped. Nagito silenced at once. He immediately schooled his expression into one of subtle pleasure. His naturally heavy-lidded eyes seemed almost heated in the particular situation. “This inane drivel is precisely the sorts of issues we’ve been having,” Izuru finally brought up his other hand, which contained an identical rope to the one wrapped around Nagito’s wrist like the perfect present. “And you’ve done little to end it.”

(Y/N) found that she had trouble looking at the red of Izuru’s eyes or the rope in his hands. Both cultivated more of the sickening feeling in her gut, the overwhelming dread that conjured images of Izuru idly pressing his foot down onto her fingers holding the edge of a cliff, supporting both her and Nagito’s weight. It felt like bile rising in her throat, only creeping further as she caught glances of either. As Izuru held the rope in front of her face, a wordless taunt, she refused to break her gaze. She wanted to rot in the feeling.

“Turn.” Izuru ordered. She knew at once it would be the first of many tonight. Though she had watched Izuru carefully as he bound Nagito, it was nothing compared to how despair-inducing it was to feel her miniscule chances of escaping reduce to less than nothing. Her breathing grew heavier as she felt those sure hands tie one knot, then two, then three, until she purposefully lost count of how many loops there were around her wrists. Every time his knuckles brushed against her arms, her pulse points, she wondered more and more if it was truly an accident. She had never known the Ultimate Hope to be capable of accidents. When he finished, the silence rang heavy in her ears. She had foolishly half-expected to hear praise, to hear the words ‘good girl’ fall from his lips.

“Pathetic.” He repeated instead, sending both her and Nagito’s teeth deeper into their own lips. She felt it deeply, kneeling on the bed, her back to the man she knew held her life in his hands, the man she cared for so deeply privy to every little thing that would be done to her without being able to do anything. The feeling in her stomach had begun to sink lower and lower, though it felt much more heated. She was a fool, but not a naive one. Izuru always knew what he was doing, including what tone he was setting. She felt her own legs begin to shake. “I’m sure by now the two of you understand where this is going. Bend over.”

She obliged like it was second nature. She obeyed like it might as well have been her own thoughts asking. She bent over and stuck her ass up and face into the mattress, right in front of Izuru, with a speed that surprised most of the room. Izuru, however, remained unfazed. He almost seemed to expect it. Her whole body felt hot, displayed like this for Izuru and subsequently Nagito. She knew he could see her panties he could see below her short skirt. She’d taken to wearing much skimpier clothes recently, especially when she began her… affair with Nagito. Despite herself, she wondered if he enjoyed them. He wouldn’t have been the first. She liked it when it was hard for people to touch her without coming in contact with her skin.

“Let this serve as a reminder to the both of you.” Izuru said behind her. She wondered how much closer he’d have to get to feel the vibrations of his deep voice. “None of you have any room for affection in you. You wouldn’t be with our association if you could. You saw how easily she bent over for me. You’re nothing special, Komaeda, she would take it from anyone if she could.” He paused. She didn’t even get to wonder why before her head was grabbed and roughly turned to the side so she was looking directly at Komaeda. His face was flushing, beginning to turn the red color of so many things around him, giving into the situation. Though his mouth was slightly agape as he took the scene before him, he seemed to be at a complete loss for words. She’d never seen him like this before. “Do you see how aroused he is at this? How eager he was for me? He’s much the same. You two are, for lack of a better word, whores. Easy-” He didn’t get to finish his sentence, as both of the other two released small moans at his words. (Y/N) thighs clenched as she tried her hardest not to back her eager body back up against him. Nagito rocked his own back and forth, attempting to find friction against his growing erection. Izuru sighed. “Precisely.”

With no other warning, he shoved her panties down her hips. A string of her slick connected them for just a second, quickly severed with no regard from Izuru. Nagito stopped rocking. He stared, mouth agape, at her now exposed pussy. She couldn’t even tell him to stop looking. She didn’t want him to stop looking. Behind her, she heard the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling. Once again, instinct took over, and she spread her legs further for him. The fabric of his pants and underwear rustled as he pulled them down just enough to pull his cock out and stroke it.

“Wow.” Nagito muttered, looking all for the world like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow- t- to bear witness to this- to-”

“You will speak only when spoken to from here on out, Komaeda.” Izuru said without even looking up at him. Nagito swallowed hard. Behind his chair, he pulled ever so slightly at his restraints. Izuru rubbed the head of his cock up and down her lips, spreading her slick around. (Y/N)’s head finally dropped back down, looking away from Nagito, as she tried hard to not let any more noises escape her. Even if she knew Izuru could feel her desperate arousal in her heavy breathing, the way she wiggled and pressed into him, her fingers trembling in front of him, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting it consciously escape her mouth.

“Be honest, (L/N)...” Izuru’s words were so gentle and soft that she knew at once that whatever sharp insult he would throw at her would make up for it. “Tell Komaeda about every Remnant’s cock and fingers you’ve had in your pussy.” She gasped at once, her eyes widening, but as the focus fell heavy on what she would say next, denial escaped hers. She could feel Komaeda’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t even bring herself to look into his eyes. Guilt and shame that she had never felt about her previous dalliances before were searing in her stomach. “Not to mention the people you’ve taken on the outside.” All the while, his cock continued to move back and forth over her hole, never pressing any further. Teasing her, seeing how much she could take. “How many?” He asked rhetorically. “Two dozen? More?”

The enticing idea that it was Izuru’s cock didn’t escape her. It was one of the many details that had made her so wet so quickly. She couldn’t believe that someone so singularly powerful and superhuman was even giving her thought. She couldn’t believe that he had taken the time to notice how big of a slut she was. Nagito wasn’t alone in his obsession with Izuru, she was merely better at hiding it.

“What does it matter?” She spat. A cruel smirk that only Nagito could see crossed her face. “Angry they got to me before you d-” She was interrupted as Izuru’s swift hand came down to firmly squeeze the sides of her throat, literally choking her on her words. Her labored, raspy breathing echoed through the room at once. Next to them, Nagito whimpered, but continued to bite his tongue. Under furrowed brows, his eyes flicked quickly between Izuru’s unyielding face and his hand around her throat. Nonetheless, his smile remained on his face.

“You’re actually less insufferable when you’re just moaning.” Izuru noted. Her eyes rolled back into her head, but she couldn’t do much else. The press of those sure hands was incessant. “I might begin to see why you seem so eager to be reduced to that state so often.” He lowered his mouth by her ear, but his voice was just loud enough to let Nagito hear. “I wouldn’t recommend boring or annoying me. We wouldn’t want me to push you too far past your limits, would we?” His vice-like grip only tightened. Though she could still breathe a bit, every second he held her was a second she became closer and closer to melting like putty in his hands. Beside them, Nagito groaned, deep in his throat, at the idea of pushing her past her limits. Too many thoughts were beginning to swirl in his head, and not having anything or anyone touching him to quell it was only making it worse. Kamukura finally released her. She took a deep breath in and coughed a bit. Izuru’s focus went back to her now soaking pussy.

“Now, as I was saying, the only difference between Komaeda and all of your previous conquests is how… inexperienced he is. That, and his crumbling mental state, means he’s developed quite an obsession with you. Isn’t that right, Komaeda?”

“Yes!” Komaeda practically barked, words bursting out of him like a damn. “Yes, yes, I would devote my body to her so willingly- she’s extraordinary, the- the idea of touching her? The idea of her wanting me,” he rambled, drool finally beginning to spill out of his lips in his practically cross-eyed fervor. His chest heaved with his panting. “Oh, it fills me with such an incredible feeling!” He cried. “I selfishly desire her every day, every moment-”

“Enough.” Izuru sighed. Nagito’s lips couldn’t even shut this time. He moaned once more at the sight and his ideas, hips rocking quickly. “You like the attention. It shows. Look how easy it is for me to take her.” At once, his cock stopped teasing her, and finally sunk in. She yelped loudly at the sudden, intense feeling as Izuru quickly and completely filled her. Her walls squeezed around him, beckoning him to stay as his cock kissed the deepest parts of her. Between the look on her face and Izuru’s hands on his lover’s hips, Nagito couldn’t contain himself anymore.

“What an amazing opportunity this is! What a once-in-a-lifetime chance,” he panted. “To watch hope himself and my love together so intimately… ah, you must think I’m so perverted.” Despite his tone, Nagito’s face remained stuck in a blissed out expression, belaying his enjoyment at his self-degradation. “To be enjoying this so… I’m filthy...” He moaned. There was a pause, for just a moment. His tone changed slightly, but it so happened that Nagito was trapped in a room with the only two people in the world who would be able to tell. “Though… some might call it perverted for you to be doing this at all, Kamukura-sama.”

“Are you... insulting me, Komaeda?” Though he didn’t look back over at Nagito, Izuru punctuated his words with his first thrusts into (Y/N). Her noises were muffled by the mattress, and though the tension in the room eased a bit with it, it still hung heavily above her head between the two men.

“Lowly scum like me? Insult you? I would never dream of it, Kamukura-sama.” Nagito smiled cheerfully. Despite his words, the look that he gave Izuru was not with his usual reverence. Izuru’s own eyes narrowed, rolling the emphasis on his words over in his head. With no other words, Izuru’s hands gripped (Y/N)’s hips tighter until the whites of his knuckles were visible and he was sure there would be bruises the next morning.

"Let me make myself clear. This is only for my relief." He punctuated his words with a particularly rough, deep thrust. A broken keen spilled forth as he bottomed her out. "Both from the constant whining and drivel from the two of you... but yes, also sexually." He tangled his hand in her hair. "Unfortunately, my body is that of a teenager’s. It... is filled with hormones that make my body want to breed." He pulled a bit on her hair. She moaned gutturally, fighting with herself to arch into and out of the feeling. His eyes flicked up to meet Komaeda's. "Komaeda, you would not believe how... exquisite she feels... how warm and inviting she is..." Izuru’s lip twitched into the ghost of a smirk. Nagito didn't miss it, he didn’t miss anything. His eyes eagerly drank in every detail of the two of them entwined.

"St- stop talking about m- me like I'm n- not here." She managed, gasping around every other word. Izuru hummed, like he was considering her words, before shoving her head back down harshly into the mattress. His other hand came down in a ruthless slap to her ass, making her gasp, both for air and in surprise. Her hands clenched around nothing behind her back.

"I've got no need to differentiate how I talk to your face from behind your back." Though his face did not change, his tone held a bit of smugness. It was the only indication that what had left her a panting, moaning mess had any effect on him, besides the slight dampness to his brow. "And this is not so much about you as it is about Komaeda." Once more, his tone carried more of his annoyance than usual. "He is incessant. Obsessive. Possessive. And over all a hindrance to the operations of the Despair in his pathetic desire. I was hoping tonight would see a folly to that… but he’s as worked up over you as ever.”

For a second, (Y/N) and Nagito caught each other’s eyes. Arousal that made her clit throb washed through her as she took in the look in his eye. She had never known Nagito to be possessive, as Izuru had claimed. In fact, he often turned down situations that might lead to being in her presence, citing that she deserved better. However, the completely captivated and hungry look would have made anyone feel like they were his. Even without his words or touch, she felt marked as his. Her noises grew even louder. The pride in his eyes, like she was a beloved toy he was showing off, was almost too much.

Izuru didn’t miss this. All at once, he stopped moving, though he was still buried deep inside her. She whined wordlessly, causing him to deliver another hard slap to her ass. She whimpered quietly at it, clenching around his cock, but said nothing else.

“If you’d like to look at each other so badly, so be it.” His voice was even angrier now. If she didn’t know any better, she would say that it almost sounded like Izuru was growing frustrated with the two of them. She couldn’t tell why though. Izuru finally removed his tie and jacket. Most of his clothes remained on, as the motion was not taxing to him in the slightest, but he felt a bit hot under the collar now. He figured it had to do with her body heat. She was very warm.

He pulled out of her and wordlessly picked her up to turn her and face her towards Nagito. She silently thanked the fact that her hands were tied up for once, since it meant it would be hard to pick her head up and look at him constantly. But as Izuru sunk into her once more, one hand gripped the rope binding her hands and the other her shoulder. He leaned down to speak to her.

“Seems you’re lucky as well.” He murmured to her. Her eyes were wide in surprise. Even as Izuru spoke to her, both of their gazes remained fixated on Nagito. She could feel his hot breath on the shell of her ear. It made her shiver as he held her close. “I’m not so bored I feel the need to hold you by the hair.” He considered her for a moment. Her hands were pressed up against his firm stomach. He felt so solid and tall and imposing behind her. Though he was ruthless and unforgiving in his motions, she also knew he could have done much, much worse had he wanted to. The way he took control of her so quickly, so unquestionably so, was what she had been craving from someone every time she had been with someone else.

She finally realized what he was doing. He was showing both of them that she didn’t need to seek another person to give her what she wanted- didn’t need to seek Nagito to give her what she wanted- because he, and only he, could give it to her.

At once, Izuru picked up speed again. She cried out, her fingers scrabbling at the buttons of his shirt, pulling him close, pulling him closer. The sudden roughness made her cry out, the noises broken by each slam of his hips against hers. She could feel the smooth fabric of his pants, still on him, every time he buried himself in her. His hair began to fall down from behind her, brushing her shoulders and sides, tickling her with their silky softness. For a moment, the mischievous thought of pulling it crossed her mind, before she remembered once more that she was tied up at his mercy.

Her eyes focused on Nagito. He was moaning and mumbling to himself, looking lovestruck and animalistic with his wild eyes and hair. She couldn’t quite hear him over her own noises and Izuru’s breathing by her ear. He was leaning forward as much as he could, taking everything in raptly. She could see his erection pressing hard against his jeans, but he seemed to have completely forgotten about it, at least for a bit.

“Fuck!” She hissed, shutting her eyes tight just to get a bit of respite from the onslaught of pleasure she’d been feeling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck yes!”

“Make use of that mouth without foul language. Tell me, is this pleasurable to you?” Izuru asked, but the gentle, dangerous voice he was affecting was strained now. She squeezed her thighs together, in an unconscious attempt to receive friction on her clit, but she was rewarded instead with a quiet moan from Izuru.

“Y- Yes, Kamukura-sama!” You nodded weakly. In the greatest surprise of your night, you heard him laugh for just a second behind you. Quietly, more of a snicker than anything, but a laugh nonetheless. It was a low, smug noise.

“Mmm. Now admit to both of us, that even with me fucking you right now, you’d rather have Komaeda’s cock.” He demanded, making Nagito’s hips jerk up. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes! It- It is!” You longed desperately to reach out to Nagito, just to feel him, just to touch him, but you were beginning to understand the true reason Izuru had tied both of your hands behind your back.

“Then say it.”

“I’d rather have your cock, Komae- ah- Komaeda-kun!” She practically shouted. Izuru began slamming into her harder when she’d gotten to saying Komaeda’s name. The irony didn’t escape her, that although it was Nagito’s name she was crying, it was Izuru that was making her feel that way. Nagito was always hard to read, but although she couldn’t tell exactly what he was thinking about, he was enamoured nonetheless.

“I think we’re well past the point of formalities, (Y/N).” Her first name sounded heavenly on his lips. “Go ahead and try again.”

“I want y- you, Nagito!”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” Nagito was panting and squirming almost more than she was. It seemed he’d found a rhythm grinding up against his own pants and thighs. His eyes rolled up. “A- again, please, please, please!” He begged, knowing that he was taking a risk by speaking once more. She opened her mouth, but all that fell from it was a squeal as Izuru spanked her with the hand previously holding the rope.

“I made myself clear, Nagito.” Izuru practically purred as he spanked her again and again. She jumped with every one, but she loved the sting regardless. Each one made her feel a little more used, a little more worthless as anything but a toy for the two men. Nagito didn’t like seeing her hurting, but it pleased something deeply sadistic in him, and he wasn’t the one doing it. The friction was barely enough, but he was getting close.

“I- Izuru! Please, please, please…” She pleaded, beginning to rock herself back against his cock sloppily, not in time with his thrusts.

“Hold still.” He practically growled, smacking her once more before digging his fingers back into her waist. She almost couldn’t take it anymore.

“Izuru, please, my- my clit- please, please!”

“Would you like me to touch you properly so you can finish?” Izuru practically purred. She nodded, noises like sobs escaping her mouth. Izuru laughed once more. The hand on her shoulders let go, sending her falling back into the mattress, before he was gathering her hair and pulling her head up once more. “Stupid little girl. You really thought I had no punishment in store for you?” He continued to slam into her, leaving her too mindless to even respond. He was all-encompassing- she could smell him, feel him around and in her, hear only his voice- but all she could see was Nagito, practically on the edge of his seat, getting off to her abuse. “You really think you’re going to cum? How pathetic. You two are suited for each other. If you’re going to cum you’re going to cum from my cock alone. But as much of a dumb slut as you are, I don’t really think you can do that, so you’ll just take it while I finish inside you. After all, my body still wants you bred.”

“W- Wait!” You choked out. Although the smallest part of you that still retained thought worried about what he was saying, the louder part had flooded with a fresh wave of pleasure and arousal at his words. He made no move to pause, but you didn’t have anything else to say. In front of you, you could tell Nagito was close as well, beginning to heave breaths that sounded like laughs. He was sweating, heated by the jacket he was still wearing, but it seemed like the least of his concerns. His noises were high, breathy, and pleading. More than anything he wanted to touch, to feel anything but the confines of his own jeans, but instead he watched helplessly as another man threatened to finish inside his beloved.

Izuru finally began making quiet grunts of his own right in her ear. They were deep and animalistic, something she never thought she would hear from Izuru. However, as he began nearing his edge, his noises only grew more similar in desperation to that of the other two. For just a moment, all three could be heard finding their own pleasure, before Nagito threw his head back with a sobbing noise and climaxed first, emptying into his own underwear. He wished desperately that he was the one in her, even alongside Izuru.

The other two now took their own turn watching Nagito as he finished, their eyes focused on his trembling, his white locks falling back, the way he rutted into the air in his desperation. Izuru’s orgasm took even him by surprise as he watched, and he seated himself in her fully with a loud groan as he filled her up even more. Her noises now sounded broken and pathetic, pleasure overriding her thought process as she let him empty within her without fuss. When he was sure the last of it was inside her, he finally pulled out and set her carefully down on the bed. She didn’t even complain about the loss, since she could still feel his seed dripping out of her twitching core.

She felt his hands on her wrists, which she had grown accustomed to, before realizing that he was undoing his knots. In a couple of tugs, his work came undone, and he laid the rope down next to her. She still couldn’t find the energy to sit up. He then moved around her and to Nagito, still recovering from his own orgasm. Nagito smiled weakly at him. Izuru took Nagito’s hair into his hands, but didn’t pull.

“Clean me up.” He ordered. Nagito seemed shocked, but didn’t waste time. He wrapped his lips around Izuru’s cock, still slick with his cum and her natural lubricant, and began to lick it clean. He moaned and his eyes fluttered shut like it was the most wonderful thing he had ever tasted. Izuru’s nose wrinkled a bit from overstimulation. Nagito’s pink lips moved back and forth hypnotically over Izuru, until finally, he tugged him off with a ‘pop’. He nodded curtly, and tucked himself back away in his pants. Nagito licked his lips, from which drool had begun to escape him again. Izuru moved behind the chair and undid Nagito’s knots before going to redress in his tie and jacket. “Clean up your mess.”

He turned slightly away from the two, listening as Nagito quickly got to the bed, he assumed to tend to her. He looked back when he finished, realizing she was moaning once more. Instead of attempting to help her sit up or speaking to her, Nagito was kneeling between her legs, lips around her pussy, eyes dutifully closed and hands behind his back. Izuru quickly leaned over and grabbed Nagito by the collar of his shirt, pulling him away from his task.

“I told you she’s not to cum.” Izuru growled. “You’ve already gone against my wishes by finishing yourself-”

“My sincerest apologies, Kamu- Izuru.” Nagito’s head was bowed respectfully. “I truly meant only to help put your seed back into her.” His eyes flicked up to meet Izuru’s. They were not filled with the subservience his posture suggested, but instead flickered with his own machinations. “Who better to be filled with your cum than her? The despair of breeding her during such a time means nothing compared to the hope your progeny would bring! If I’m blessed with the taste of the aftermath of your intimate act in the process... well, that’s just my luck.” He practically giggled. “I suppose I’d merely gotten used to not using my hands.” Despite his mad words, Izuru expected something of the sort from him. He sighed, and let go of his collar.

“I’m leaving now. I expect not to see either of you in my room when I return. Let this be the last time we must have this… discussion.” Izuru said, making his way to the door. “Next time,” He paused in the frame. “I won’t be so kind.” With one last nod to the two of them, he shut the door behind him.

*****

A/N: I'm not sorry, except that this is my first time writing something like this w/ three characters so I know it jumps around a lot but eh here you are! Love, love

#nagito komaeda #izuru kamukura #nagito x reader #izuru x reader #danganronpa #dr2 #restraint #bunnywrites

157 notes · View notes

clefairymuke · 3 years

Note

oiiii i have a request for a oneshot or maybe something fun to add to your regrets fic (whatever you find better) I think it would be funny a reader x the scouts drunk and levi finding them and being all cute taking care of reader :3

thank you for this request!! sorry for how long it took, but it managed to pull me out of some writers block that’s been kicking my ass lately. thank you for suggesting it and reading!

as always, much love! <3

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Red Wine | Levi x Reader

pairing: levi x reader

themes: fluff

tw: swearing, alcohol use

word count: 2511

True fun and relaxation is not something you typically experience.

Of course, when you signed up for this whole Scout Regiment thing, you weren’t expecting nights out in bars and plush queen-sized beds with wool blankets. You expected exactly what you got: exhausting days and mostly sleepless nights, demanding grief and waking nightmares. One thing you hadn’t expected, however, was how stale it would get. These thoughts are why you ended up where you are now: propped lazily against a wall surrounded by your friends, loud laughs bubbling freely from your ever-smiling mouth, and a bottle of wine in hand.

While the “why” is clear to you, the “how” is a bit more cloudy. Around the complete euphoria in your head stands a thick fog blocking your memory — that, or the fact that your drunkenly dwindling attention span can no longer support a thought lasting more than a second or two. All you know is that you’re here now, and you’re having the time of your life. Your eyes and ears skirt past Eren and Jean arguing without stopping to listen in as you pass the bottle to Mikasa.

For once, you aren’t thinking about how Levi could make this experience better. Although you love being in the company of your boyfriend, you can’t help but imagine his disdain if he were to witness your situation. You can almost feel the ferocity of his razor sharp-glare creeping up your spine as you picture it within your mind.

You lay your head back on the concrete wall that keeps you upright and close your eyes. Although you had shown to be quite social when the bottle first began to be passed, you now wanted nothing more than to take a nice nap — or to go vomit just to ease yourself of the queasy feeling that was overtaking your stomach. Either would suffice. You listen to your friends chatting mindlessly around you, their care to be inconspicuous slipping away with the wine. You watch Connie drain what was left in the bottle, leaving you to curse at the fact that you would be stuck in the uncomfortable kind of drunk that left you a bit nauseous while still conscious enough to be prone to anxiety.

You sit there in a dizzy oblivion for what could have been five minutes or fifty, tuning out the antics of the rest of the people in the room as they laugh and roughhouse. Your stomach stirs and turns, but your mind begins to clear: you notice Connie and Sasha choreographing a dance routine to music only they could hear; Mikasa and Armin sit quietly chatting behind Eren as he and Jean argue over who is more adept at fighting; Ymir and Christa are making googly eyes at each other over their giggles.

“Hey, guys?” you say, your brain lagging behind your mouth by at least a few seconds. “I’m probably about to throw up.” You quickly discover that you’re right, as your gut begins to bubble and your mouth begins to water.

“Oh, fuck,” Connie mumbles as he looks around the room desperately. Sasha looks disappointed as he stops dancing and approaches where you sit against the wall, gripping your wrists in his hands and helping you to your feet; with both of you being drunk enough to show it, stumbles are surely present. Time skips, and you’re kneeled in front of the toilet, Connie leaving to give you privacy — you’re decidedly much drunker than you thought you were.

Just as you start to vomit, you hear Eren defeatedly say, “Oh, fuck me.” That can’t be good.

The space goes silent save your groans. The most imaginative depths of your brain think that perhaps a titan is looking in the window, waiting to bring you all to your doom. How convenient for half of the newest scout recruits to be intoxicated and defenseless. When you hear Levi’s voice say, “Stupid fucking brats. Where is she?” you wish it were a titan instead.

A chorus of voices answer, “Bathroom.” What a bunch of fucking sellouts, you think to yourself. Your heartbeat begins to pound in your throat again as you hear his footsteps grow near; when he taps at the door a few times, you let it all out — out of fear or simple drunkenness you are unsure. “God damn it,” you hear him mumble before the door handle turns and his hands find your hair, pulling it back into a makeshift ponytail.

He rubs your back in a manner you can only describe as passive-aggressive. You can tell he wants to scold you — and you’re definitely in for it once you get to feeling better — but you can also tell that he wants to care for you. That’s why you try to pretend not to hear his curses as he lectures you on responsibility.

“Why the hell are you drinking with these idiots? I wouldn’t be mad if it was a glass or two, but there are three empty bottles on the floor in there. Three. No wonder you’re puking your fucking guts up,” he mutters, voice low enough for only you to hear despite his angry tone.

You feel your eyes watering as your stomach settles for another brief moment. “Levi,” you say, your breathing labored, “now is not the time.” You hear him scoff before you begin to dry heave, his hand moving a bit more caring across your back as he holds onto your hair. Your gut starts to feel a bit better as your brain realizes there’s nothing left. He places his hands under your arms and lifts you gently to your feet before flushing the toilet. You stumble awkwardly to his lead as he escorts you to the sink.

He reaches around you to turn on the water, which is cold to the touch as he holds your hand beneath it. “Clean your mouth out,” he says, nudging his hand around yours until you form a cup. “It’s disgusting.” You oblige him, lifting it to your lips. You feel it drip down your chin as you swish it around between your teeth, looking up in the mirror to see your blushing cheeks and droopy eyes. Levi stands behind you, dressed in no more than a grey t-shirt and some comfortable-looking pants. His hair is neat and combed, which doesn’t quite match the rest of his attire, but you aren’t complaining. He looks as ethereal as always. After you spit, he grabs your shoulder and spins you around to face him.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing the tears that had formed on your face away with his thumbs. You shake your head at him, your eyes trailing down to the ground. Here comes the scolding.

He sweeps you off your feet, to your surprise, holding you bridal-style as he carries you out of the bathroom. You lay your head against his shoulder, seeing the walls of the room and the faces of your friends go blurrily by as he strides to the door; they all look terrified.

“Laps,” you hear Levi announce to your friends, his voice icy. “At dawn. I don’t give a shit if you’re hungover.”

A chorus of groans is the soundtrack for your exit as the door slams shut. The walk back to Levi’s suite is spotty at best; you’re unsure of exactly how long it’s taking. The scenery around you feels more dreamlike than anything — you find yourself hoping that you’re still propped against the wall with your friends, sleeping soundly and dreaming of Levi catching you red-handed. When time jumps and he’s laying you down on his couch, you’re pretty sure you’re awake.

You hear rustling around as you lay there, still half waiting for a scolding. He rejoins you rather quickly, setting some things down on the side table and gently lifting your head. He sits, letting you back down slowly to lay in his lap. “I brought you bread,” he says, taking it from the table and placing it in your hands. “It’ll soak up the alcohol. There’s water over here when you need it.” You inspect the bread lazily before nibbling on it. The very idea of chewing something and swallowing it is enough to make you nauseous, but you trust his judgement.

You feel his hand fall atop your forehead and his fingers draw circles in your hair. You don’t fight the grin threatening your lips. “Are you okay, my love?” he asks, his voice soft. This is the tenderness you had fallen in love with many months ago; the one thing your friends are blind to. He carries himself with such coldness for the public — he is rude, and blunt, and insufferable, and unobtainable. With you, however, he could be kind. He could be loving. The speed with which his gentle voice melts your heart never lessens. This is Levi at his most vulnerable.

“I’m just drunk,” you tell him, your words slurring into each other. “I’m not dying.”

You hear a chuckle barely pass over his lips like a spring breeze, the sparkle in his eyes reminiscent of the way the sun reflects off the surface of a pond. The peaceful nature of your position is a worthy opponent to how your insides wage war on one another: nausea, dizziness, and the beginnings of what will become an absolutely splitting headache all contained within one disoriented body. “I would’ve gone with you, you know,” he says suddenly after a serene moment of silence. “I would’ve known when you needed to stop drinking.” He combs his fingers against your cheek, silvery eyes softening into pools of undeniable adoration.

“You would’ve been a complete buzzkill,” you reply, half joking as you close your eyes and enjoy the rare affection.

You hear a cross between a scoff and a laugh come from above you. “Keeping those brats from getting you so wasted that you start puking isn’t being a buzzkill. It’s called taking care of you.”

“I think I’m not drunk enough,” you say honestly. “We ran out of wine right at that stage where you could go to sleep or start throwing up, but there’s absolutely no chance of having a good time.”

He taps the top of your head with two fingers, prompting you to let him up. You oblige him, using the opportunity to lay down your bread and take a sip from the glass of water that rests on the side table. You watch as he saunters back toward the kitchen, wondering what he was doing somewhat, but mostly just trying to get a grip on your senses. You sit up as you wait on his return, laying your head back against the plush upholstery and taking deep breaths.

He’s back as quickly as he left, both hands behind his back in a feeble attempt to hide the wine glasses as their stems poked around to your view. You feel a smile creep onto your face as he unveils his master plan: a bottle of red wine and a glass for each of you. “Don’t expect this often,” he announces as he sets it all on the table, pulling a wine key from his pocket. He joins you on the couch, scooting in close so that your knees brush before you hear the satisfying pop of the cork and the relaxing swish of liquid on glass.

“You’re expecting me to believe that Captain Levi is offering to get drunk with me?” you giggle, almost nervous to reach for the wine in front of you. He laughs off your comment, reaching in front of him and lifting the glass to his lips; he takes only a sip before looking at you in expectation. You take yours as well, holding it up to his jokingly before you both bring them to your mouths.

After your first gulp, time begins to melt away. A movie-esque montage begins in front of your eyes: the sight of the man you love, once so stoic and so stiff, loosening and laughing the night away at your side; the feeling of typically isolated and scarce hands trailing carelessly along the length of your arms, warm against the sensitive skin of your wrists and your thighs; the smell of red wine spilled innocently on hardwood and upholstery without complaints or uprooting to clean it; the sound of his velvet and brass voice with his uncensored expressions of love, whispered and melodic; the taste of mint and jasmine tea on his unusually wandering lips.

What might be thirty minutes or three hours passes in a flash, leaving you sprawled across the couch with the drunken mess that is your typically reserved lover, legs utterly entangled so that you were unsure where you ended and he began. He’s whispering to you — that much you know — but his words are slurred, and you’re unbelievably distracted by the feeling of wet kisses being peppered along your jaw and ear. He grasps at your back, massaging and caressing and leaving no inch uncovered by his calloused hands as his touch reminds you why you breathe and laugh and plainly exist.

“Levi,” you whisper, your mind a tangled ball of twine save for the feeling of his breath on your cheek.

He hums in response, not bothering to look up at you. You can feel his grin against your jaw.

“We should get to bed, love.”

You’d be left to wonder how the two of you made it into the next room when morning came; rest assured there would be a trail from the couch to the bedroom door made from clumsily knocked-over knick knacks and your discarded clothes from the day to clue you in. If you were sober, you’d care enough about Levi’s wrath tomorrow to clean up behind the two of you; however, you aren’t sober, and you don’t care enough.

The two of you fall into the bed you share, intertwining your limbs like the threads of a tapestry, laying out plainly and beautifully the comfort you find in him. Your head finds his chest and his hands find your lower back, pulling you flush against him as his eyelids begin their threats to close before he is quite ready. He murmurs out your name, his hold on you growing more snug when it passes his lips. “I love you, s—” he falters, nuzzling his face in the top of your head. “So much.”

It’s short — and a pretty common thing for someone to say to the person they love — but it means everything coming from him. “I love you, Levi,” you tell him, praying to whatever is up there that you’ll remember this in the morning.

Soon, the two of you stop stirring and whispering. As you breathe him in, you try to hear his words in your mind as many times as you can before you slip out of consciousness. You begin to drift off to sleep, peaceful and content in his arms as you’ve ever been.

#levi ackerman #levi x y/n #levi x reader #levi x reader fluff #levi attack on titan #captain levi #levi fluff #attack on titan #aot #snk #aot fluff #aot levi #drunk levi #aot fic #aot oneshots #levi oneshot #levi ackerman oneshot #levi ackerman x you #levi fanfiction

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thran-duils · 3 years

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And Those I Can’t Charm, I Can Kill (P.3)

Title: And Those I Can’t Charm, I Can Kill (Part Three) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mafia!Tony Stark. Too many fringe gangs were making ties and your father noticed. He reached out to the Stark mob for an alliance, offering up a piece of his territory at first. When Stark told him he had enough land, your father offered up the next best thing: you. He knew Stark needed a wife and what better way to solidify a relationship between the two mafia families? You were not naïve, you knew the life and you were trained with guns and negotiations. Your father had made sure of that. The two of you had seen each other on multiple occasions at mafia get togethers and knew of each other. Stark accepted the transaction but little did he know he was going to get a little hellion handed over to him that would not kiss the ground he walked on. He would grow to love it too. Words: 2,559 Warnings (more WILL be added, I am sure): Eventual smut, power dynamics, sexism, smut, public sex, fingering, dom/sub powerplay, kidnapping, violence, death, knife kink, gun kink, angst with a happy ending Author’s Note: I’ve been listening to this song on repeat for AN HOUR as I’ve been writing this. What a club song.

Part Two || Part Four || Masterpost mobile || Fanfic masterpost

A handful of days later, you were following a bouncer through a crowded club. You and your friends had gone out to dinner and Tony had told you on the phone to come here after dinner. It was Natasha’s birthday, and you were supposed to be there to celebrate it with them. He had granted you permission to bring some of your friends. You were unsure if it was just him being nice or if he wanted to know who your friends were for a better read on you. Perhaps it was both.

“This is nice!” One of your friends said in your ear as the group of you were let into the roped off VIP area.

The plush, white seats of the multiple long booths were glimmering in the neon lights and your eyes were drawn to the sectioned video screen, watching the underwater animation on the different screens. Some people were already here, but the only one you recognized was Bucky. He was sitting with a couple of other men, and he gave you a little wave. You acknowledged him in return and noticed he took his phone out. There was a large chance he was texting Tony to let him know that you were there. Keeping tabs still and the thought of it made you scowl.

Even more so when you knew Tony was not there yet. If he wanted you here so bad, where was he? You could have gone to a bar after dinner for a while rather than just coming straight here like he requested. He had been on a business trip the last couple of days, and you were not close to Natasha. It was all about appearances for him. Appear happy. Appear like a power couple. You had acted your part well the other day in the restaurant and he had been satisfied with that. You had felt a flutter of pride seeing how he smiled at you, how impressed he had been at how you handled yourself. Like he saw some worth in you other than a trophy wife.

“Where are the drinks?” Your friend asked, interrupting your thoughts, and you snorted.

“My thoughts exactly.”

<><><>

Tony walked into the VIP section, followed by Rhodey and Bruce. His eyes were running over the people in there, some of them from his crew and the others, Y/N’s friends. He quickly realized Y/N was nowhere in sight and he sighed, annoyance bubbling in his chest. He had specifically told her to come here after they finished dinner. It was after 10:30pm; there was no way she was still eating dinner.

He had been in Atlanta the last couple of days and had just gotten back home mere hours beforehand.

Donning a mask of contentment, he walked over to the table where Natasha was sitting with Clint. He held out the bag he was holding, and Natasha waved him off.

“You did not need to buy me anything. You already provided this amazing space to celebrate me.”

“Take it or I’ll make you open it,” he half teased.

She kissed his cheek and he smiled in response, handing the bag off to her.

Standing straight again, his eyes landed on the ladies in the booth. Bucky was nowhere in sight, so he could not ask him, so he walked over to the women. They eyed him, some looking at him with curiosity, others with arousal.

“Ladies,” he greeted.

“Mr. Stark?” one of them ventured.

He flashed a smile, “Guilty. Can any of you tell me where my lovely wife is? Did she leave?”

“She’s dancing!” The woman closest to him answered over the music.

Tony exhaled, “Right. Okay. Thank you.”

“Thank you for inviting us!” the first girl said and he nodded.

“Anything to make Y/N feel more comfortable.”

<><><>

Near the railing, Bucky had already realized himself Y/N was not upstairs with the group when he noticed Tony arrived, so he was putting eyes on the crowd outside the VIP section where he had a better view of the dance floor. He was hoping to get an eye on her before Tony did in case anything was less than savory. She had left the section awhile ago and had not come back. In his drunk haze, he had not been paying close enough attention to the amount of time. Stupid stupid stupid. She was a target as much as Tony now, probably even more so because she could be held for ransom as collateral. He should have been paying more attention. He was not her body guard though; that had been Erick. And he had followed her down.

“Christ,” Bucky said to himself as he spotted Y/N near the bar.

“What?” Bruce asked him, his hand coming to rest on the railing as he peered over the crowd.

Bucky startled at Bruce’s voice but recovered quickly. “Where’s Tony?”

“Right here,” Tony answered from behind him. Bucky swallowed sharply before turning his head. “Where’s Y/N? Her friends said she was dancing.” He joined them at the railing. “Has she been drinking a lot?”

“They had a couple shots when she was up here. She left about twenty minutes ago to go downstairs. Erick went with her,” Bucky informed him. He saw Erick was off to the side though, not interfering with the scene in front of him. “She’s by the bar… with that guy.”

<><><>

The man’s hand slipped up your skirt and you stiffened.

Trying to pull away you turned around to face him. Taking a step back you kept dancing but carved out some space for yourself. The guy looked amused by the action and his hands were pawing at your hips again, yanking you close again. His hands slipped back, gripping at your ass.

“Okay,” you forced out a laugh, hands coming to his arms. “Let’s keep it friendly.”

“I’m being perfectly friendly,” he answered, refusing to let you get away.

Attempting to pull away, you said, “Friendly as in PG. No hands up the skirts.”

The guy chuckled, trying to pull you back to him. “Sweetheart, with legs like that, can you blame me for trying to touch you?”

“Yes, I can,” you told him, pulling away with more force this time. “We’re dancing, not dry humping.”

“Is there a difference?” he asked, still all smiles but you could see the tight lines at his eyes. The smile was becoming more forced. He was getting impatient. He was on you again, hands coming to your sides.

“I’m married. There’s a big—” you started to say before you were suddenly jerked away from the guy and a figure came in between the two of you.

It took you a few moments to register it was your husband. His back was to you but you could sense he was enraged.

“The fuck is your problem?” the guy shouted at Tony above the music.

“My problem is you’re touching my wife!”

The guy’s eyes shot to you, where you were standing behind Tony. He tried to brush of the awkwardness by crassly laughing, “Maybe you should tell your ‘wife’ to not be such a slut and guys like me wouldn’t put their hands on her!”

Tony’s fist collided with his center, right below the rib cage. The guy’s eyes bulged, gasping for air. Tony socked him again in the same spot with precision, causing his knees to buckle. Tony’s closed fist came down hard across his cheek, whiplashing the guy’s head and knocking him completely to the ground. The crowd had parted, and it was just the pair of them in the small circle, the music still bumping. The guy had not even stood a chance.

He turned on you now and your eyes were wide, shocked he had just beaten the crap out of someone in front of everyone.

“You. Me. Upstairs,” Tony ordered loudly to you, his hand clamping down around your arm.

“They’re gonna call the cops!” you gasped.

“They shouldn’t. I own the place,” Tony responded gruffly, his hand tight around your arm as he dragged you away.

When had he taken over? This place used to be Balthazar’s. Erick was there suddenly, and he was already pulling the guy to his feet. He told Tony he had it and Tony barely registered that he had heard him. You felt eyes on the pair of you as he moved through the crowd that parted easily for him at first but the further you got from the scene, it was a normal inebriated crowd dancing their lives away.

Tony was pulling you up the stairs and turned you away from where the VIP section was on the other end of the upper floor.

“What are you doing? Where are we going?” you demanded.

He did not answer you and took you down the hall that was marked Exit. He held up his watch to the door and it unlocked, and he pulled you inside. There were a couple of men sitting on the couches inside the room – you guessed it was the manager’s office.

“Get out!” Tony barked at them, and they scrambled to do what he said as quickly as possible.

As the door locked close again, Tony whipped you around him and let go of your arm in a fluid motion. His nostrils flared, his eyes wide with his anger. He was visibly shaking when he snarled, “How dare you disrespect me like that! Not even just in public but in my own fucking club!”

Just as enraged at being handled like you had been, you shouted back, “I didn’t ask him to touch me like that, Tony! I was trying to get away from him! Or were you too wrapped up in your own damn ego to notice that?”

Tony snorted, “You didn’t have to ask him if you were already dancing on your own! Seems to me you were looking for trouble! You should have stayed upstairs!”

“Yeah well, good thing you were there! I apparently need a handler!”

Tony was on you, hovering. “I’m glad you recognize that because you drive me insane!”

You shoved him and his eyes were wild, angry you had done it. Well, fucking good! He was blaming you for something you had not done, and he did not need to be so goddamn close. You did it again when he still didn’t give you space.

“I drive you insane?” you demanded.

“Immensely!”

“Right back at you!” you retorted. “Maybe you shouldn’t accuse me of things I haven’t done! You did the right thing taking me away, but your anger is completely misdirected! I wasn’t trying to disrespect you! I wanted to just dance! And then some guy comes and lays hands all over me! I told him I was married and he didn’t care! That was the problem! Not me wanting to dance! Redirect your anger, you pompous asshole!”

Tony’s hand came up to lazily point at his chest, sarcasm dripping, “Oh, I’m an asshole?”

“Did I stutter?”

“According to you, I just saved you from an uncomfortable situation!”

“Do you want me to throw you a fucking parade for acting like a decent human being who saw someone in trouble and came to the rescue?”

“You’re so goddamn overdramatic!”

“Overdramatic?”

“Did I stutter?” Tony spat back.

Your chests heaving from your passion, the anger thrumming, the two of you stared daggers through the other. The music was muffled by the door, only the bass thumping.

The air was tight.

Tony’s lips parted ever so slightly, and your eyes fell to the movement for a brief second before meeting his gaze again.

Too tight. It was spilling over.

You threw hands at him but in a different type of aggressiveness. Your fingers curled into his shirt, yanking him to you instead of away. Your lips crashed together, and his arms found their home around you. Your back hit the wall and he was grinding his pelvis into you, both of you gasping for brief air in between passionate kisses. His hands ruched your dress up over your hips and he quickly came to grip at your ass as he groaned into your kiss.

“Unzip me,” you gasped and he did so without any more direction, shoving the dress down your body, leaving you in your bra and thong.

Tony was breathing erratic, watching you hungrily.

“Lose them,” you told him, meaning his jeans, tugging at them, and he caught the gist.

The two of you moved in tandem, shredding clothing left and right until you found yourselves up against the couch, the back of Tony’s calves hitting it first. Climbing up and straddling him, you dipped down, holding his jaw as you kissed him with fervor. Tony’s tongue slipped past your lips, swirling around you own. You moaned into his mouth, grinding your hips and he responded in like.

His hands were gripping at the base of your ass, pulling you closer, forcing your pussy to brush against him harder.

You pulled away and he instinctively followed, his lips still pursed. You smiled at the sight, and he noticed, expression falling if only for a moment. You guided him to your entrance and you sunk slowly. His fingers flexed, his breath catching.

“God, you’re drenched,” he murmured, his cock fitting inside, brushing every nerve. “You’ve been such a goddamn tease.”

“A tease?” you asked, sinking completely and he groaned loudly, fully seated inside. “Maybe I was waiting for you to prove yourself! Apparently you can handle me.” You pulled back up, only his head buried in your folds to tease him. “What a coincidence.”

Tony responded with digging his fingers into your thighs and he thrusted hard.

Nipping at his nose, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“Stop stalling,” he growled. He was impatient.

He had been waiting for this for so long, you could gather that. If what your friend had overheard at the wedding was any indication of that. Well, you were going to let him have it.

You were bouncing, your thighs slapping against his. You were falling into the complete and pure pleasure. It was different with him; he was yours, you were his. You controlled the movements and he let you. He was so goddamn attractive and you felt the emotion overwhelming you that you were really married to this man. You needed to stake your claim and it only made you ride harder.

Tony held you close, whispering about how beautiful you were and how lucky he was. Bite marks were left along the top of your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipples and sucking in. He was worshiping you, completely lost.

And when he gripped you tightly, you gasped when you felt his cum coating, finishing deep. His hand came down, almost slapping, and his thumb found your clit between your bodies. He was rubbing with precision, encouraging you in soft tones.

“C’mon, baby.”

He had you tumbling and him still fully seated inside, the two of you shared in a moan as you clenched.

You grinded your hips once more, enjoying the feeling of him inside. The intimacy was what had been missing, the two of you holding out on the other, too preoccupied with being shielded. This felt good and you hoped it was not a fluke.

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl

Fic tags: @patheticallysentimental

#tony stark x reader #mafia tony stark #mob tony stark #mob!tony stark #mafia!tony stark #my shit

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