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luvwestwood · 3 months

Text

"AFK" - Choso Kamo (with twt links)

"..like fortnite, i’ma need your skin.."

3,012 words.

warnings. nsfw(18+), bf/gamer! choso, oral sex (m rec.), humiliation, desk sex, exhibitionism, trying not to get caught, feral choso, p in v, throat fucking, oral sex (m receiving), overstimulation, degradation, choso whimper links included lol,

notes. my previous drabble abt choso had a lil kick to it, definitely had to make it into a full one-shot! hope u guys enjoy, and thank u for 450 followers hehe, so I included twt links! ^^

credits to @/plutism for dividers, @/adrienwithane for banner.

russian translation by @juliabelll ❤️

Not too long ago, it was Choso's birthday. Being an amazing girlfriend you are, of course you built him a brand new PC. It cost you an arm and a leg, but that didn't matter at all when it came to Choso. Seeing him happy itched a part of your brain, especially when he was the one who would pay for everything: dates, your online shopping carts, you name it.

He never really bought anything for himself. You were getting tired of the countless times that he went on a tangent about how slow his previous machine was. It was doing your head in, so you saved up. For what you now call a 'not-blessing-in-disguise'.

Choso was obsessed with his new PC, and it wasn’t an exaggeration. Part of you was starting to regret it all. The man barely paid attention to you.

Am I the asshole for being mad that my boyfriend likes his gift a bit too much? No, I wouldn't think so. I should be delighted, but it's pretty much getting outrageous.

The fact that he has almost every single game out there on that PC in just a span of one week since he got it - means there's more for him to do. Every day, he'd wake up, do a bit of house stuff then sit his ass down to play with his friends. For as long as he can. Never leaving that room. Hell, he wouldn't even bother answering your messages until an hour later. 'Mb, was on the game' is something that was engraved in your brain by now.

Every time you'd come over, he'd ignore you simply by just gluing his eyes on the screen. If you try to nap, just go home. You've lost track of how many times he's managed to wake you up with his blood-curdling screams. There were times when Choso didn't even notice you leaving, which upset you quite a bit.

Of course, you had moments when you needed him the most. Like, badly. Freshly shaved, he's not even mentally there to take a peek. You could be naked and oiled up in his bed, Choso wouldn't even bat an eye.

…Advice to self, don't get him a PS5 this Christmas.

"Choso," You called out, sat on the edge of the bed behind him. No answer. Per usual, you wanted to rip that headset off his head.

Dark circles were forming around his eyes, endless cans of monster were scattered all over his desk. "Nah let's just fight Oscar, we've got a minute until the circle closes."

Rolling your eyes, a scoff escapes your mouth. Aaand he didn't hear you. Crossing your arms, you furrow your brows. He was honestly testing your patience. "Choso?!"

Choso flinches a bit, pulling one side of his headset away from his ear. His gaming chair spins around to face you. "Baby?"

He knew you were mad. You looked more than pissed. It was really because this recurring behavior of his was getting too much. "Your eyes are always on that screen! Did you even know that I was here!?”

“I-I’m sorry. Look, I'll get off after this game!” From his headset you could hear Choso’s friends teasing and picking on him. They probably heard you scolding your poor boyfriend. You couldn’t care less.

As soon as you were about to speak, he immediately spun his chair back around to face that stupid monitor again. He was too engrossed in the game. It was his squad of four against the only opposing team.

Groaning, you flop back onto his mattress. "..You always say that, and you never do." Muttering under your breath, you stare at the ceiling blankly. What felt like a hammer to your head, Choso's war cries could only get louder each second.

The past few days, you had no choice but to use your own fingers to toy with yourself. You were needy, and you missed your boyfriend's touch. Too bad he was too occupied. How come his keyboard and mouse get to be touched by him more than your....

Using all of your strength, you sat yourself up again on the edge of his mattress. Realizing there's no use in scolding him, you quietly walked up behind Choso, combing your fingers through his hair. You loved when it was down, and he loved it when you played with his hair. He found it relaxing. You could tell by the way his body was no longer tensed up, the back of his head falling heavy onto your hand.

Your hands left his hair, travelling down to his nape. With your freshly manicured nails (which he paid for), you gently scratched his skin on his neck. You could see goosebumps forming, but said nothing about it. Choso who was ticklish, tilted his head to the side - "Mmm," He hummed, telling you off as you were starting to distract him.

Letting out a laboured sigh, you stared at the back of his head. Wondering what to do with him, you pouted. Maybe I should just leave like every other day? No, I can't back down.

He seems really busy. Would he even notice if I crawled under his desk? Grinning, you got on your knees, crawling like a kitty underneath his desk but making minimal noise. You glanced behind your shoulder to see his reaction, but his eyes were still gawking at the flashing screen in front of him.

Coming face to face with his sweats, you kneeled, just in level with his lap. Peeking your head out from the shadows under his desk, Choso had only noticed you then. His eyes widened, the sight of you looking up at him like a puppy had started to cloud up his thoughts.

Grabbing onto his wrist, he slowly let go of his mouse. Bringing his hand to your cheek, he took it in the palm of his hand, eventually giving in and using his thumb to softly caress your lips. "..I missed you, Choso.." You whispered, softly sucking on his thumb. "..I need you,"

His breath hitched, your words were doing something to him. What a fool he was for ignoring you all this time? Just then, a cacophony of voices screaming through his headset broke him out of his trance. Choso's warm hand left your face, causing you to frown. Your fun was cut short. Way too short.

You had enough, deciding it was time you finally got what you wanted. Snaking your two hands up the soft cotton of his sweats, they stopped right at his crotch. His eyes anxiously shot down to you underneath him, telling you off and pointing to his headset.

Placing a finger onto your lips, you told him to just be quiet. His eyes frantically flickered from you, then to his monitor. Slowly, you slid down his pants. Smiling at the way he rose himself up from his seat slightly, so it would be easier to take them off. Of course, he wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Taking his long, thick cock into your hands, you jerked it ever so slightly. Choso cleared his throat, keeping his mouth shut all of a sudden in case he accidentally makes unwanted noise. He was practically melting under your touch, into the chair. Gliding your tongue over his pink tip, he didn't dare look at you. Not long after, your warm mouth wrapped over him, Choso letting out a sigh of relief at the feeling.

You knew how to push his buttons, bringing yourself to fully deepthroat his cock for a few seconds. His lips purse shut, Choso slightly biting down onto his bottom lip. His fingers started to press on the wrong keys, unable to focus on the game.

Pulling away, a string of saliva connected your tongue and his aching tip. You brought your lips back onto his cock, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks as you used your two hands to jerk him off at the same time.

The man above was folding at the pornographic sight underneath him. Hearing Choso moan by accident, he quickly covered it up with a cough. “…Yeah, no, I’m good- Just don’t- feel well..”Friends concerned, Choso had come up with a convincing lie in just seconds. His hand reached down to rake through your hair until his fist was full of it. [link]

He lightly pushed your head up and down his length, your mouth making sloppy noises all over, buckets of spit dripping down your chin and his balls.

Ripping his headset off, Choso didn't care about the game anymore. Or his friends. He groaned as you fondled with his balls, giving them a suck afterwards. His light grey pants were turning a darker shade than before. His two hands clawed into your hair on both sides of your face, Choso started to fuck his cock into the back your throat.

Moaning, his eyes shut tightly as his head fell back onto the cushion of his chair. His balls tightening as he heard how you constantly gagged over his thick cock. "Fuck.. Just like that.."

His moans were a mixture of curses and long groans, tears started to well up in your eyes. Choso opened his eyes again, looking down at you as he drew your mouth away from his cock. He smiled, seeing your makeup all ruined, your face covered with spit and so did his lap.

Rolling his chair away from the desk, he grabbed you from underneath. Only to pull it back again, placing it in front of his PC. Guiding his hand on your back, he bent you over on the chair, making your two legs kneel on the soft cushion so you wouldn't tire out. [link]

Holding tightly onto your hair, your head fell back towards him. Choso had ripped the fabric of your leggings that was unfortunately covering your cunt. Grabbing his cock, he lined himself up with your hole, his hands shaking from how eager he was.

Easily sliding in from the slick that covered your hole, you grabbed onto the arm rest in front of you; Choso stretching you out completely. Wasting no time, he began to move his hips back and forth, fucking his hard cock into you.

His monitor started to gently shake from how hard his cock was bullying into you, skin slapping as his balls that were full of weeks load cum made contact with your clit.

"C-Choso.." You cried out, your hand reaching back to his pelvis. Staring at yourself getting fucked like a slut through the reflection of his PC monitor, your ass rippled with each and every one of his thrusts.

Maintaining his brutal pace, his fingers were no longer woven into your hair, reaching out to the headset on his desk. Confused, you kept your eyes open to watch Choso place them over your head. "W-What..?"

His hands gripped onto the flesh of your hips, Choso leaned into your ear. "Keep moaning you slut, let them hear you." All of a sudden he groaned, feeling you clench around him at what he just said. "You like that, don't you?"

Spinning you slightly to one side, his leg went up onto the chair with you, allowing him more leverage to fuck you deeper. "Eyes up at that camera too, show them how pretty you look taking my cock," Tears started to stream down the sides of your cheeks, your face had flushed red.

Choso's hands took a hold of your hair again, his tip kissing your cervix repeatedly. "I.." Speechless, you lost your ability to form a basic sentence. His fat cock left you braindead, at this point you were seeing nothing but stars.

"..Use your words baby," A creamy white ring started to form at his base as his cock pistoned in and out of you. Choso's hand kept stamping down on your back from time to time to make sure you kept that arch. "..Isn't this what you've been wanting all week?"

"Y-you're so deep.. I can't.." Your hand reached back to his abs, twisting the white fabric of his tank top until it was all wrinkly. He took a hold of your wrist, twisting your arm behind you. Choso slightly bent over, his warm body resting against your back.

He quietly groaned into your ear, chanting your name like a prayer. You were fucked out of your mind. "You feel so good.. like this pussy was made for me." The pace of his thrusts slowed down, but his hips still rut into you hard each time. His strokes hard and deep, you swear could feel him all up in your guts. Your jaw had dropped, your head falling back onto his shoulder.

Choso's hands reached under your loose shirt, letting your tits spill out of your bra. Gently twisting your nipple between his finger tips, fondling with your whole breast afterwards, he forgot how much he loved wrapping his mouth around those.

"Your cock.. It feels so good.." You babbled, Choso sneaking his fingers underneath to rub lazy circles on your clit. Your legs began to tremble, fortunately your throat managed to choke out a whine.

Also seeing him in the reflection of his monitor, strands of his hair started to stick to his face. Multiple beads of sweat had formed on his forehead. Choso didn't want to leave your pussy. Not even Thor could pull him out. He enjoyed using you like a cock whore.

You felt so dizzy, mind full of his cock. Choso let out multiple whimpers as he felt his orgasm nearing, his index finger hooking onto the side of your mouth. The very last few seconds, his cock bottomed into you, trying to chase your orgasm. The desk hitting against he wall non-stop, his headset that was on you started to fall off your head.

Leaving a trail of wet kisses down your back, his hand grabbed onto the plush flesh of your ass, continuously giving it a spank every now and then.

The wet, slapping noises of your skin continued to follow, until you felt his thrusts come to a sudden halt. His hot cum shooting inside of you rope after rope, just before he pulled out to let the rest out onto your ass. "..Fuck.. look at that."

Using his thumb to spread your hole wide open, his load spilt onto the black leather of his gaming chair. You panted, tired and hole throbbing. You got what you wanted, that’s for sure. Forcing his headset off you, you couldn't do anything but lean against his desk, trying to regulate your breathing pattern back to normal.

"..We're not done here," Choso laughed behind you, your cunt still dripping of his thick load. His hands roughly turned your body around, placing you on top the desk to face him. Using his foot to push the chair away, he lined his cock with your hole again, using his cum that was already inside of you as lube.

"Oh m-my- Choso!" You yelped, one hand taking grip onto his shoulder for support, the other holding knocking his keyboard out of the way, trying to find something to hold onto other than his shoulder.

His forehead rested against yours, the staggering movement of his hips causing the desk itself to shake under the two of you. Choso watched as his cock disappeared in and out of your hole, grunts coming out through his clench teeth as he wrapped his large hands around your thighs. He wanted more, and wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

"..Good girl," He gritted through his teeth, "..I love t-this pussy, and you." Choso's hands pressed flat against the desk, his lips locking onto yours. His cock was coated in a mixture of his and your own cum, your sweaty bodies intimately hugging against each other.

Choso wanted to feel all you, he just craved more and more each minute. His hands shakily held onto the sides of your waist, his lips moving to your jaw to plant more kisses.

"You're so beautiful, look at me baby." Choso lightly tapped the side of your face, telling you to maintain eye contact.

Obeying, you kept your eyes open; looking into his but not a thought behind your own eyes. You only continued to whine under his touch, overstimulated from how much he's used you like a cock whore. You were so close to losing your mind, drunk off his cock.

Choso too, was lost in your pussy. God, was he whipped— If only he could stay inside you forever, he definitely would. This whole time he was busy cursing at himself, how much of an idiot he is to not appreciate what he has - you. Your cheeks were stained with your hot tears, Choso hushing you and wiping them away every now and then.

“S-Shit, I’m gonna cum again.” He pants, feeling his balls tighten for the second time, the tightness of your pussy heightening his stimulation.

Your hands cupped both of his cheeks, pulling him in for a kiss. His thrusts turning sloppy, you cooed. “..Cum for me, I want it all inside..”

This caused the coil inside of Choso to snap, him desperately whimpering into your ear as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. “F-fu-ck..” Tightly holding onto the flesh of your hips, he made sure his second load stayed inside of you.

Sliding his cock out, Choso rested his heavy cock just above your pussy. Making sure he planted a peck on your forehead, trying to catch his breath. The two of you laugh, your bodies aching and sweaty, his entire desk and chair a mess.

Reaching for something, you blinked as Choso grabbed his headset that ended up on the other side of the desk. Placing one side against his ear, he spoke into the mic. "..GG."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24 all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts! it means the world to me 🎀🩷

[luvwestwood masterlist]

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso smut #choso kamo #choso x reader #jjk choso #choso x you #jjk drabbles #jjk smut

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Text

Between Dreams and Sugar

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: Your screams will haunt his dreams until the day he dies.

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Torture, gore, angst, violence & death, suggestive joke, fluff, happy ending, rescue fic but who rescues who...>:)

A/N: Guys, I have a confession - I don't think I can write Ghost properly lmfao. This is horrifically mid.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

There was so much blood coating your body that you had forgotten where the wounds were and weren’t. It flowed from you like viscus water—a homogeneous mixture of congealed shades of red like rubies except for the simple fact that this was not beautiful; it was not desired or sought after.

On the ground, soaking in indistinguishable pools of crimson, ripples are sent out when your limp foot twitches mutely in its clutch. That was all you could do now. Twitch. Writhe. They didn’t even bother tying you to the chair anymore—just let you slouch half out of it like a school kid who had gotten too drunk the night before.

Hell, you wished you were drunk.

“Sergeant.”

You wished you could feel your fingers. You wished you could move your neck up from its bend position as if it was a wilting flower; hair stuck to your skin. Blood dribbles out of your mouth. Drip…drop…drip…drop.

You’d bitten your tongue open in a vain attempt to stop yourself from screaming, hadn’t you? You…you can’t quite remember.

“Sergeant!” Groaning long and low, the violent chills that wrack your form only serve to make yourself bleed out faster, tension forcing precious life fluid out from burst veins and slashed ankles.

Cuts far span your legs and shoulders. Your back is nothing more than a painting of burns coated with sweat and infection; puss sticking you to the backrest of the chair like yellow-colored adhesive. Your clothes are the opposite idea of modesty. Tattered, torn by blades to create harm. Fuck, could you even breathe properly anymore?

Lungs only create a wheeze—you’re not getting enough oxygen to function.

A dark growl bounces off the walls.

Ghost struggles against his binds, uniform also in a state of disarray with very obviously broken ribs and bruised chest. Splotches of yellow-white mounds signal blunt trauma over the pale skin that’s already laced with old scars.

They’d all but anchored him to his chair—and even then the red marks that blister are a signal of the brutality of the large man as he peels back his skin to try and struggle himself out.

You whine, the loftiness stuck in your brain addictive; to pull back that curtain was as much of a struggle as staying awake. That harsh Manchester accent was something to draw closer to, though, professionalism a key to the lock on your failing consciousness. The reminder of companionship.

“G…” Your vocal cords fizzle, “Ghost…”

“Open your eyes.” Every word was enunciated, deep and guttural.

Parting your lips, more blood drowns your lap in thick globs, and soon your battered throat vibrates with coughs that make you see stars, mild panic the moment you realize that you can’t breathe.

Jerking forward, you gasp, eyes snapping open as your neck bends ahead in desperation. Mucus and other bodily fluids spray over your lap, tinged scarlet, but the blockage in your throat is dispelled as your broken ribs quiver in agony.

Whimpering like a kicked dog, you wonder how long it’ll take for Ghost to realize getting you to focus on him was pointless. If this all continued, you’d be dead within the day.

But you entertain him.

Head slowly balking back as your jaw hangs loose, you rest it on the wooden frame behind you as softly as you’re able with a most likely concussed brain and a fractured skull. Only one eye opens, and even then it’s half-glued to your cheek with dried blood.

Ghost’s balaclava had been ripped off. It felt wrong to see him in the open like this. Exposed. It was quite obvious he disliked it just as much as you did.

Blue eyes blazed at you; blonde hair going this way and that as crimson fell down the swell of his Adam’s Apple from a very broken nose. That gaze was unrelenting, and even with your blurry vision, you knew it would be unwise to look away.

His stubbled jaw sets as a heart can be seen skipping beats in his breast. You were totally out of it, enough so that you missed the way his lungs slightly released when you had pulled yourself back to the present.

The gulping sigh.

“That’s it, Sergeant.” You cough once more, wet and haggard, and your head falls back to your chest before you have to force it back up on shaking muscles. It was getting harder. “Easy does it, then…Thought I lost you.”

“C–can’t,” the useless feet flicker over the ground, sloshing through fluid in unstable jumps as you slur out, “Hurts, Ghost.”

A slow and dark inhalation meets your ears before a sudden grunt of a struggling body; jerking arms as the chair squeals with old nails being torn out.

“I know, Birdie, I know.” His tone is lesser now as he bites back a curse as the blisters on his arms pop, the rope burns turning a vile color as his muscles strain, “But you keep those pretty little eyes on me, yeah?”

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

Black Operations were dangerous, yeah, but never had the Lieutenant been so down in the gutter as he was right now. Mainly because of you, no, entirely because of you. He could withstand months of torture—mental and physical—with no problem. He’d done it countless times before.

But never had he been forced to watch someone hurt you instead of him.

They would come in every day, these pitiful excuses for German drug runners, and would make him watch as they ripped open your skin with blunt knives and other tools coated in rust. Questions would be asked—questions that Ghost knew he could not answer even if it was you who would get punished.

Every time you would flinch when the door to this concrete basement opened, it was harder to keep his tongue from wagging. He was watching you die; letting it happen.

Fuck, it made him sick.

Ghost violently reems a shoulder up and down, not caring about the long stripes of now oozing blood on his forearms or the pain that the action brings bone-deep. There was so much scarlet flowing from you. Too much.

What he knows for certain is that he can’t let you die here. He’d never forgive himself for that.

How is she still conscious? The question was utterly genuine as Ghost’s dead eyes narrowed dangerously, sparking with urgency at the uneven risings and fallings from your chest.

“Fucking hell,” the Lieutenant growls, each word punctuated by a desperate attempt to free himself. He had to get you out of this. You were his responsibility; his team.

His…Ghost pants, sweat dripping down his arms.

You didn’t abandon him, how could he do the same to you? When questioned you hadn't given up his true name, hadn’t blabbered to save your own skin so you could avoid a horrible amount of pain. Pain that Ghost knew well.

Pain that was never supposed to be known to you.

Your screams would haunt his nightmares until the day he died.

“Ghost,” blue eyes freeze, snapping away from the sight of the bone around his wrists becoming visible through a thin coverage of remaining flesh. He pauses like a guard dog. Your optic was glinting, flicking with failing consciousness. The movement of your chest sputtered as the man clenched his teeth together. “You’re hurtin’ yourself.”

“‘Bout to do even more damage, yeah?” he gets back to it, working enough blood into the rope to make it slick; dripping. “If it’ll get me out of these bastard things.”

The weak smirk on your face gives his brows a deep furrow, sweat glistening on his forehead.

A part of him hated you. Hated you for the way you had this effect on him. He shouldn’t care if you lived or died—that wasn’t his cross to carry.

But you’d made him soft these last few months. Soft, and weak, and disgustingly concerned for your safety. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t Ghost.

“Gonna b…bleed out, y’know.” Your tongue slips, mind so loose that anything that comes to the front slips out like water from a slip-and-slide. Fingers twitching, your limp body grows so cold that you shiver.

“Negative.” Ghost barks, slipping one hand partially under the restraint and his flesh, acting as a zipper, starts to go with it. He hisses under his breath, body hot and spilling. Mutilating himself. “Shut your damn gob.” Blood splatters to the floor, “I’m gettin’ us out of ‘ere.”

“Tell me a joke.” Blue eyes flicker, blonde lashes slipping over pale cheeks.

You feel another wave of pain shutter through you—one that makes you whimper as quietly as a soft breeze on a summer day.

“Joke?” Ghost hisses, glaring over at you without heat. “The fuck are you on about?” A wobbling eyebrow raise is all he gets.

He grunts feral-like, evocative of a bear that hadn’t gotten his supper. Your lid droops and panic spikes.

“How long can a fish breakdance for?” Ghost slips a hand free, snarling in the back of his mouth as the entirety of his left hand is left ripped open, the fissures itchy and welling. Wasting no time, the limb goes to assist the other, pulling with ripped-off fingernails at the tight knot. A side-eye is sent your way.

Only you weren't moving. Lips snap in a moment of obvious concern, not only by the tone but by the way the man jerks forward in the chair—no matter if one arm and both of his legs were still restrained.

“Love!” The door handle rattles with screeching chains, but Ghost is occupied with raging at you. Ordering you to stay awake with terrifying eyes. It was as though for the first time in a long time there was true fear in his throat. True hatred.

Chucking voices heat veins that he had long since thought were cold, and the Lieutenant composes himself with a sharp pause. He leans back slowly into the chair; jaw so tight his molars almost crack in the back of his mouth like candy. Your face is tilted downward, and Ghost memorizes the make of it, trails his gaze slowly over every slash and cut that mars you. Feet slap off the concrete as multiple people enter the room, but it was like a switch had flipped internally, walls going up.

The mask was still there, even if all that physically remained of it was the black paint in his sockets.

He’d return every mark, from a bruise to an open wound, tenfold. But you needed to wake up first. You…you needed to.

You had to be okay.

Three men encircle the two of you, faces hidden and obviously enjoying a bit of their own product.

“Look at this, Lutz, the man got a hand out of the binding.” Blue eyes travel to stare dead-on into a pair of blown pupils; mind gone.

The second man goes to grip your hair, forcing your head up in inspection. Ghost’s vision immediately travels over, biceps going tense like a dog with its hackles raised and vision going red.

“Don’t worry about that. It’s one hand, what can the Bastard do?”

“Oh,” another laughs, though his body is wound tight, “careful with the woman, Alric—the beast looks like he’s about to snap at you.”

The three share sly looks. Alric, the one with your hair in his grip, shakes your head back and forth, blood flying around in the air as your limp body jerks. Ghost lunges, but he only makes it as far as the chair allows him before he’s shoved back by a hand on his chest.

Moving quicker than an animal, bone snaps, and an agony-laced scream echoes off the walls not a millisecond later.

Ghost had gripped that hand and twisted, making the wrist joint completely flip on itself. Blank blue eyes watch with glints of sadistic glee as the man wails, grabbing onto himself and falling back onto his ass.

The one holding you instantly releases your hair and rushes to his friend.

“Holy fuck!” Everyone divulges into frantic German curses, Ghost making out a command to leave and go see a doctor.

“Cheers. Good luck with that, ya’ Bastard.” Grumbling under his breath, the Lieutenant realized he was probably enjoying this more than he should, but always his attention shifts back to you. How you hang limb, battered face covered by your hair, and loss of blood steadily leaving your hands curling into the palms—

Ghost’s eyes widen slightly as the two still try and calm down their companion. Your hand. It wasn’t curled because of onset rigor mortis. You were holding a blade.

The Brit’s large chest swells with pride; jaw going somewhat slackened as he stares at you. So you were faking it….Fucking hell, Sweetheart.

Slowly, his vision peels to the empty sheath on Lutz’s belt. It wasn’t a big knife—nothing more than a three-inch blade on the end. But you were still conscious enough to hear these goons show up before he had; had used sleight of hand that anyone else in your situation would have just given up on.

It was hard to hold back a low chuckle, but he managed. Fuck, you were something else.

The two unmaimed men shove the third out the door, shouting down the hallway as his sobs and sniffling nose reverberate even as he’s out of sight.

Grunting, the Brit shifts his hips, lips pulling in a snarl at the bouncing electrical wire that goes up his ribs. Many were broken; along with his nose and a dislocated shoulder, but he knows he can deal with it. Getting you out and to the Evac point was his top priority—his wounds weren’t over-the-top life-threatening unless they went too long without treatment.

You on the other hand.

Lids narrow on the way the knife-holding hand shakes with exertion when simply applying pressure. If this was going to happen, it had to happen now.

“That was a nice little show,” Alric growls, standing in the middle of the two in the chairs and keeping a considerable distance farther from Ghost than you. Blue eyes blink blankly, emotions swiftly wiped away. “One-handed? I’m impressed.”

Ghost raises a single blonde eyebrow, “More where that came from.”

Alric smiles.

“Emil—get the gun.” Legs slowly tense, but other than that there’s no outward display of nervousness.

Seconds later a barrel is level with Ghost’s forehead, the chilled metal pressing deep into his blood-coated skin. He doesn’t balk back, he doesn’t even flinch, just watches with a dim flicker in his optics that remains even after he blinks. Like a cat’s slitted pupils.

It would be no use shoving the gun out of this man’s hands—he would fire before the Lieutenant was able to steal the weapon for himself.

“I’m getting sick of this game, Soldier. We’ve been through this day after day.” Alric swipes at his nose, white powder stuck under his nostrils. Ghost can’t stop the small tick of his mouth. “Tell me who you are,” the gun swivels, and the Brit’s heart seizes up. It points at your abdomen. “Or the girl gets a nice new stomach.”

Lips thin into a small line as hidden fury swells.

“Alric…” Emil seems nervous, his feet shifting and hands twitching. The aura Ghost was emitting was like a dark cloud around the room; sheer size and indistinguishable emotions rose to drown out all else when a threat to the beast’s bird was brought into the picture. There had been multiple times throughout the days when the men had been scared to touch you at all for fear of the look that had been leveled their way. Those eyes…fuck it was like a demon was stuck in flesh. In blue so close to gray the color was more like the concrete of a prison cell. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Tell me.” Alric growls as Emil gets closer to you. Ghost stays silent, unblinking as his fingers curl into fists. His knuckles crack from the force. “Tell me!”

Emil bushes your shoulder and you lunge. Bringing the blade into his chest, your form brings the both of you to the floor in a splash of scarlet and twin screams of pain.

The Blonde’s heart seizes at the sound in an aggressive bounce.

Alric whips around, eyes widened and gun loose in his grip. Ghost wastes no time, trusting your judgment, and shoves himself forward. A shot goes off as the Lieutenant rams his shoulder into the man, but the bullet bites into the far wall instead of your back as you dig your knife into Emil’s throat; wrestling for life.

The chair still attached to Ghost was a problem, but his body weight was used to his advantage. Sinew bunched as a growl exits his lips, Alric and him slamming to the floor in a flurry of rabid intentions and the likeness of wolves caught in a trap. Ghost’s eyesight goes red, remembering every cut and beating you went through for him in the reflection of Alric’s eyes. That pathetic drug runner had made you bleed.

His bird doesn’t bleed.

Teeth and nails are tools kept for animals, and now that the gun was too far from grip and you were limp beside the gargling body of Emil, Ghost decided that being a bit insane might do him well at the moment.

He had to get you out of here. And in no world was this man going to get away to live one day more.

“Please, don’t,” Alric begs, clawing at his behemoth build, “I’m not—I wasn’t—!”

Blood-stained teeth snap into the thin flesh of a visible neck as dead blue eyes keep you in sight like a dog does the moon.

—

You don’t recall anything after slashing one man’s neck and even that is a blur of flashing colors; instances of one waxing expression waning into another. Trapped between bouts of failing consciousness and pain that could rival someone getting their bones snapped one by one.

But you know the feeling of moss on your cheek. The shadow that sits above you and the fingers that prod at your back, pressing cooling salves of Silverweed into the burns and cuts. Your eyes weakly flicker, a low moan stuck in your throat.

Every limb is a cinder block.

“Stop your moving.” The command was stiff but quiet, and the pressure on your spine increased. Flinching, the sensation of tight bindings all along your body became apparent to you, slowly but surely.

“That…hell?” You cough, throat bare and dry. Sweat drips down your temple.

Blinking rapidly, you try to focus on the cold wind whipping past your bare skin, the trees in the distance of what appeared to be a glade. The sound of a running stream makes your ears perk.

A canteen was suddenly shoved to your lips and you grunt in surprise, water slicking your closed lips.

“Drink.” You don’t argue, peeling back your lips and letting the liquid drip into your mouth, most falling to the moss under you and getting re-adsorbed into the earth. “...There’s a girl.”

The metal container disappears just as quickly as it showed up, and you lick at the corner of your lips, cheeks burning at the comment.

Ghost kneels above you, bar a shirt, and you narrow your lids to focus on the black and blue splotches completely covering him. He still doesn’t have a mask, and you glance over the blonde stubble; the scars, and the aggressive set of his eyebrows. The blood had been washed away, and you wondered if the stream in the background of this place was still stained with crimson and the telltale black of eye paint.

“Simon,” whispering seemed appropriate, though you don’t know why. Your voice was better now but still, your body refused to listen to your instructions. Every plea to move your arms or legs was denied, sharp needles poking into your flesh that made you shake. “What…?”

Blue eyes blink down at you, something hidden in the depths. A finger curls to flick a stray hair from your face slowly. Skin brushes skin.

“Snagged what I could before I ran off. Wasn’t much.” That harsh voice, the gravel in it. You frown weakly, your lids heavy. “Bandages. Extra shirt. Blanket I used to stop the bleeding.”

He won’t tell you he was begging you to wake up when he’d been stuffing old fabric into your open wounds.

Coughs wrack your frame, whole body jerks that overtake what little peace there was to be found. A hand tilts your head back to the ground, patient as the other grabs your hair, peeling the strands away as a flood of vomit escapes your mouth.

Eyes burning and face hot, you sputter as a thumb runs deep circles over your scalp.

“Easy…” Ghost whispers, tattoos like obsidian in the darkness of the world around the two. Late afternoon and this was the first time you’d woken up since he’d been carrying you. A nail was taken out of his heart.

Seeing your eyes flicker, even filled with the tears as they were, was a blessing he’d thank whatever God that was out there for. “Easy, Sweetheart. Breathe for me.”

“Fuck,” you gasp, shaking more than a leaf. “Fuck it hurts, Simon.”

He shifts you slightly away from the bile, the familiar words burning his lungs.

“Evac point is four miles.” It felt like a death sentence to you, your eyes going buggy at the thought. “I’m carrying you there.”

“Bullshit,” you pant, wheezing. “Your arms are destroyed.”

Ghost blinks before scowling, sending a glance to his limbs. They’re both raw and skinned, just like his fingers; red with burst blisters the size of rocks. One hurts far more than the other.

“They’re nothing.”

“Nothing pretty to look at,” blue eyes narrow on you in annoyance, but the dry-humored Brit doesn't miss a beat.

“Seems you’re in good spirits, Sergeant. Fancy walking on your own?” Your lips flick, delirious and high off of whatever pain meds that Ghost had found when he had been carrying you out of the basement of that house.

Try as he might, the feeling of your dead weight was worse than he ever could have imagined. So, outwardly, he stayed numb but knew that every little look from you was as beautiful as a sunrise.

“Want me to try?” Palms begin to shift, a hand pressing deep into the moss that bends and yields to your form.

Ghost snaps forward.

“Fucking Bastard!” He puts weight on the back of your shoulder as you hiccup dull chuckles, “Quit it! Else I’ll leave you here to annoy the damn plants.”

The threat was empty, and your eyes softened as they spread their fatigued gaze over the span of the Brit’s visible skin, glee leaking out. Ghost sighs, shaking his head sharply at you, agitation stuck in his skull as it always was.

So beastly, this man, but his hold on you was about as gentle as you could imagine.

Your attraction to him was anything but one-sided. You knew his emotions as well as your own; it was quite obvious to everyone but him. The long looks, the concerned glances. His touch freely given.

He had given you his name and, to you, that was about as close to a proposal as a ring was. You’d kissed; you’d shared beds and shared skin. You knew when he was being horrible to himself deep in the confines of his head.

“Simon,” you whisper, and a blue gaze stays stubbornly away, glaring at your burns with venom. A tired smile peels your lips. “Simon.”

A huff is all you get, a bush of skin as breath wafts over your bare back. Your hand goes to touch his knee, brushing softly over the torn fabric. The flinch would not be noticeable to anyone but you. Brows pull slightly tighter.

“I had a dream about you, y’know.” Speaking hurt, but the attention that is finally brought your way was worth it. Birds chirp in the distance.

“What’s that?”

“Hm,” you lightly nod, cheek ruffling moss as you take down slow inhalations. Staring into each other’s eyes you for a moment forget the agony under your skin. “You were trapped by a giant fish underwater.”

A Blonde eyebrow raises, slow smirk unable to be hidden. It was impossible not to be entirely taken by you. How you speak, how you breathe. Even like this, you had placed a spell of black magic over him, binding the darkness that made up Simon Riley—Ghost—to your every action and whim.

“That right, Sweetheart? What happened, then?”

Chuckling, Ghost’s hold goes to your neck, massaging the skin so delicately that you lose your train of thought for a moment as shivers erupt, “I had to save you.”

Lips press to your scalp, a bent nose digging despite the shifting cartilage as lion limbs shake with a want to drag you to him. Such a rabid beast that devotes himself to your life.

“You tend to do a lot of the savin’, Love.” It’s muttered into your hair, softly, lowly. Compliments are rare—Ghost prefers actions above all else—but they’re treasured.

You know what he means.

“Yeah, I love you, too, you brute.” Deep chuckles dance in your ear, and you both stay there for a while, simply breathing in each other as the sky bleeds into the earth. So content, your heart had slowed, the salve in your wounds and the bandages compressing the areas with the most problems and forcing them to be numb.

When you had nearly fallen asleep, Ghost had peeled back to look down at you; eyes malleable as they slipped over your battered body.

“Hm,” he hums, reaching to his side and grabbing for the shirt he had stolen. After a few minutes of quiet curses and apologetic kisses, the large piece of fabric was over your top. The Lieutenant had begrudgingly admitted that the scraps of pants you had on now would have to do until you got proper attention.

“Giving the squirrels a show, then, Simon?” The man rolls his eyes deeply at the sarcastic comment, rubbing up and down your legs to keep circulation going as he readies to move you.

“They better keep quiet ‘bout it,” Ghost grumbles, running a hand through his hair, “Else I’ll have to rip a few tails.”

“So violent,” You wince when your shoulder is gripped, neck limp as your upper half was rotated. Gnashing your teeth, the Lieutenant shushes you comfortably, raising your body to rest in the crook of his large arm. Muscles tense and loosen, your cheek now resting on your Lover’s pec. You hear him hiss silently at the pressure on his broken ribs as guilt hits you. “Not the squirrels’ fault.”

“It is if they keep looking at ya. Only I get to see you like that.” Your pain-laced laugh is cut off when you’re lifted, large hands under your knees helping equalize your body.

A strained whine exits your lips, straining to get air as you pant and clench your eyes shut. Ghost wasn’t doing much better—gritting his teeth and tilting his head back.

Feet stumble before righting themselves, lids opening as lashes flutter over bloodless cheeks to stare down at you.

The word seems to stop.

“...Tell me you’re alright.” You heard that for what it was—Tell me to keep going, because if you don’t then I won’t be able to.

Blinking up at him, your nose slots under his chin as you feel him shake with exertion, lips pressing deep into his raging pulse. You swallow down saliva as his grip on you tightens, pressing you closer; giving you his body heat.

“I’m okay, Simon. Not…not lost yet.”

“Good.” He lets his eyes close for a moment, taking you in as he lets his nose be coated in your scent, the flesh under his fingertips. Ghost knows some of your wounds reopen, and, thus, his bare feet start off into the woods. His men would still be at the Evac point waiting for them. Price would have given the order. “...I’ll be needing you ‘round. Might lose my head otherwise, eh?”

“You do seem to have a few loose screws when I’m not near.”

“That was an exaggeration,” Simon grumbles.

You scoff, trying not to puke at his limping steps. The word swirls, but the man carrying you stays ever clear. “No,” you whisper, “No, it wasn’t.”

Scared lips pull up, but the birds respond for him.

Less than ten percent out from the Evac point is when you drop a tidbit of a thought to the man.

“Y’know what I want, Ghost?” The large Brit side-steps a downed tree, sweat dripping down his chin to splatter to your skin.

“What is it?” He pants, sparing you a glance as his eyebrows are constantly furrowed in concentration. Your talking made it easier to push on.

“A fucking cake. A big one.” Blue eyes blink and his feet nearly stumble to a stop before he forces on. A gasp of a chuckle makes your heart skip a beat as voices start up from the next tree line.

“Keep talking to me, Love, and I’ll buy you the whole bloody bakery.” Soldiers burst from the bushes, and Ghost calls out identification as everyone gapes. Guns immediately lower.

Medics rush forward, but still on high alert, the Lieutenant snaps at them, bringing you closer into his hold as he pushes onward.

“Where’s the fucking heli?!” Everyone stops and points. Huffing, Ghost shoves forward.

“The whole bakery?” You slur, giggling and feeling the kiss on your head.

“Every bastard pastry’ll be yours. Count on it.”

—

“Simon, you promised.” Your wheel-chair bound form pouts as the man in question deadpans from behind you, leaning on the handles. His balaclava can only hide so much.

The air is sweet with the scent of desserts and bread.

“Birdie, you can’t eat all ‘O that, you’ll explode like you took a .308 round to the head.” The woman behind the counter pales, pulling at the collar of her shirt with her smile becoming strained.

“Is that a challenge?” You glance over your shoulder, smirking wide.

“No,” Simon blanky states, the skin over his nose bridge and under-eye completely black and blue.

“I think that was a challenge.”

“It wasn’t.”

The customers grind their palms into their eye sockets, some tuning around in line and leaving entirely.

“Simon,” you intertwine your hands and lean to show him, eyes wide and pleading. “Please.” Drawing out the word, you smile with everything you can.

The both of you connect in a battle of wills—you with that infectious innocent and sly nature, and Simon with a tight glare and tired eyes. A blatant will to please you in every aspect and a need to see you happy at all times. This goes on for a full minute before a loud sigh echoes off the walls, shoulders deflating. A hidden kiss is pressed firmly to your head.

You giggle loudly at the authoritative order.

“One of everything.”

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,

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aft3rhrs · 4 months

Text

— game over ღ

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: exes to lovers

warnings: yandere, mentions of blood and murder, kidnapping, restraints, corruption, manipulation, obsession, angst, implied imprisonment, dub con, praise, degradation, dirty talk, hints of fear kink, spanking (like once), rough sex, creampie, implied multiple orgasms

The floor creaked quietly under a pair of heavy boots. You kept your eyes on them as he moved towards you, too stubborn to look up, and too frightened not to tremble.

"Oh, sweetheart," Yoongi cooed, crouching down in front of the bed. "I'm so sorry it took so long. Can't have the cops tracing my steps, can I?"

His fingers felt cool as he grasped your chin, and yet they did nothing to soothe the heat blooming through you. He smelled like snow, his cheeks rosy from the unforgiving bite of winter air.

Tilting your head, he kissed your taped mouth with utmost tenderness, like he wanted to leave a love note on the silver.

"Cold?" He murmured, noting the chills that erupted down your arms, his fingertip tracing their journey to your elbow.

In the golden glow of candlelight, with nothing but the pearly tape adorning your body, somehow, you weren't cold. Only uncomfortable, left sitting in the same position for what seemed like hours — knees bound to your chest, wrists tied together — though that was certainly the least of your problems.

"I'll untape your mouth now. Don't scream."

You shut your eyes as he reached upwards. A quick rip followed, the sting making you wince.

"Sorry," Yoongi soothed, stroking your hair, "Sorry, baby."

You didn't scream. It was pointless. He drove a long time to get here, civilization outside the tinted windows dwindling mile after mile. You had no doubt there was nowhere you could go, no one to hear your pleads for help. You'd sooner freeze to death trudging your way through the snow.

The arrogant smile playing on Yoongi's lips was infuriating. He looked like he could devour you, a cat that has finally caught its mouse.

"Good girl," he praised lowly, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.

Your stomach flipped.

"Let me go."

It came out as a whisper.

His eyebrows raised, head cocking to the side. Probably not the smartest thing to come out of your mouth, but what else were you supposed to do? Accept your fate as his little pet?

Yoongi released the soft strand, as if he got burned.

"I've been locked up for half a year... And this is how my girl greets me?"

His girl.

Why was he doing this to you? You barely dated for a few months before he chopped up two men who have been bold enough to bother you. Parts of their bodies were still in the process of being found all over the south of Seoul.

Were you going to end up the same?

You swallowed the knot in your throat, willing your heart to stop pounding. No words came, your thoughts too frantic to make sense of.

Yoongi clicked his tongue.

"The usual bratty attitude I can handle. But silent treatment? I can't fucking stand it. Your stupid little friends had enough time to convince you I wasn't good for you, huh?"

"You did that yourself!" you suddenly shouted, eyes brimming with tears. They spilled over, dripping down your collarbone. "You killed people, kidnapped me like some fucking lunatic!"

Yoongi stared at you as you sniffled. Once the dam broke, the fear broke loose too, pouring all over your lungs, making it hard to breathe. Panic started setting in. You had no idea if your outburst was going to be punished, even though in the short time that you knew Yoongi, he had never caused you any harm.

If you ever knew him at all.

He narrowed his eyes. You hated the vulnerable position he forced you into, hated how his gaze felt like a phantom touch.

"I didn't kill any people. I got rid of trash, and I did it all for you. To protect you."

He buried his face in his hands, hiding the shine of his own tears.

"Fuck. Are you actually scared of me right now? I would never hurt you."

What did it matter? Nothing about this love was healthy, and you longed to rip your heart out of your lungs to numb the feeling. You couldn't do this; couldn't let him taint your morals, or at least, couldn't let him see that he started.

All you had to do was convince him, and then yourself.

It didn't matter. It didn't matter. It didn't matter.

"I hate you," you whispered.

Yoongi froze for a moment, then looked back up at you slowly. You stared right back into his eyes through your wet lashes, no longer disturbed by their dark depths. A flash of uncertainty passed through his expression, promptly replaced by a cryptic calmness.

He hummed, shrugging his jacket off.

"Let's play a game, then."

Your stomach jumped when he placed his palm on your shoulder, slowly turning you away from him.

His lips inched towards your ear, hot breath brushing over its shell.

"I don't believe you, not for a fucking second. But I'll entertain you."

You stared at the shelf in front of you, the melted candle wax and golden jewelry laid out beside red roses. The bouquet looked small and miserable after you threw it at him.

You felt just about the same; small. Helpless as he hovered behind you, his intentions unclear, your fate even more so. Your pulse quickened as seconds ticked by.

A loud gasp escaped you as he pushed you forward. Your head spun from the suddenness of the action, cheeks instantly burning and knees trembling.

You fell face first into the silk sheets, ass up, like a little doll for him to use. He had to hold on to your hip so you didn't tumble. You've never felt so powerless before, so stripped of your dignity, or so hot when you heard him unbuckle his belt.

The adrenaline rush intensified your emotions, made your throat close up. Only a whimper passed through your panicked breathing.

"Look at that," Yoongi murmured. "You're dripping already."

You flinched as you felt his finger run down your folds, clenching needily. Everything was happening too fast—

"I missed you too."

No preparation, no warning; one moment you were empty, and the next you were full.

He groaned, leaning over you, dropping his forehead onto your back, and his hand in between your thighs.

The stretch hurt. You could feel his cock twitching inside you, hard and thick as you pulsed around it.

No mercy, no patience; he started fucking into you, choked groans and wet smacks filling up the room. His fingers quickly parted your slick folds, rubbing into the little nub between them to ease the pain.

It worked — it bloomed into a searing pleasure that made your tummy and your vocal cords quiver, soft, helpless whines fleeing your lips.

"Fuck," he cursed, his voice broken, "fuck, you were made for me."

You shivered, finding yourself unable to fight against the restraints he put on you. Nevermind the tape; it was your soul that was truly imprisoned, and that made everything ten times worse.

His lips touched your ear again.

"If you don't come," he whispered, panting softly, "I'll let you go. But if you do, you will stay with me forever, do you get that, baby?"

Was this the game?

Fear clutched your heart in its iron fist, mingled with your most private, forbidden desires and desperate needs, made your eyes and your pussy wetter.

He reveled in it all.

"Go on," he taunted, "show me how much you hate me."

You did hate him.

Because nothing else made you feel like this, no matter what your friends said, no matter what seemed right or wrong. The blood on his hands dripped like an offering, all for you, a threat and a promise that predators loved, too, that they'd kill to protect their own. There was no life for him without you.

You urged yourself to hold on, to not give into your weaknesses. But it was hard when you were already tightening around him, on the brink of delirium and craving more.

"Yeah, there she is," Yoongi breathed. "My dirty little slut. My good fucking girl."

You cried out, your entire body tensing up. His cock throbbed inside you, rutting into you faster.

"Almost there? Are you gonna gonna let me keep you, baby? Chain you the fuck up like a good bitch?"

He was so close, playing dirty just to tip you over the edge, just to prove that you belonged to him. Hands curling into fists, you made an effort to focus, whining out a "no" that sounded pathetic even to your own ears.

"Yeah," Yoongi moaned. "Filthy fucking liar."

His fingers dug deeper into your hips, the hard grip marking your skin, planting the memory of this moment beneath it. Bruises would blossom tomorrow, and he wished he could see them all over you, a violet garden that grew from his love. Yet all he could do was slam into you faster, abuse that little spot inside you that his cock reached with way too much ease.

"Stop fighting it," he grunted, landing a sudden slap on your ass. "You're mine."

The harsh sting, the cursed words, the heat — it was all too much. The tension stirred and coiled in your abdomen, making black dots dance around your vision. Your cunt squeezed his cock desperately, barely allowing him to continue fucking you.

As if you were under water, everything became blurred, and soaked, with tears, with sweat and the orgasm rushing through you, encouraged by his filthy groans. So wet you didn't even realize he was coming too, until he stilled entirely, spilling inside you as you limped.

You listened to his breathing slow, your body thrumming, head pulsing with blissful nothingness. Too high and too weak to do anything but breathe with him.

A kiss was pressed into your spine.

"Mm... Should I give you one more chance?"

At that, you seemed to come back to your senses, breath hitching and eyes open wide.

Yoongi smirked, running his fingers along the tape softly.

"Let me grab a knife, pretty. I'll get you nice and comfy."

You almost flinched when he leaned over you again, his cock jerking and hardening in your sensitive hole.

"You did so well," he whispered into your ear. "Such a good, little bitch. I'm so in love with you."

A weak shudder went through you, ending with an ache right in between your legs.

Yoongi nuzzled your neck.

"Yeah, there you go. Don't you worry. We have all night to play."

Was it fair to play games one was destined to lose? Probably not, but unfortunately for you, that made it all more exciting to Yoongi. He wanted you to see yourself fail over and over, realize there was no running from your love.

It seemed you were about to.

He slipped out of you gently, biting his lip and watching his cum dribble out of you. His hand slid down to your ass, giving it a few, tender pats.

"Sit tight, sweetheart."

With that, he left you on his bed, again, ruined and aching and beyond lost. You heard him rummage through his drawers somewhere in the cabin, heard your heart beating in your own skull.

For some reason, you had a feeling this was just the beginning of a whole eternity. Hit play. Lose. Repeat. Try another level. Until your bones turned to dust and you were wrapped up in each other six feet under the ground. There was a sadistic side to Yoongi that seemed to enjoy the process, the struggle, the conquering of your mind.

Not surprising in the slightest; all dangerous creatures liked to play with their prey. Even more so when they loved it... And Yoongi would never stop loving you.

taglist 💌: @baalsgurl1913 @httpsbts @hoseokshobagi @pynkgothicka @ar14dna @sweetempathprunetree @blueberryarchive @messyjk @themochiverse @minyoongiboongi @chimmisbae @crisle19 @bangtans-momma @bnagtanx1306 @get-that-brain-working @babycandy111 @shyygrl

#again sorry to the person I couldn't tag ❤️#yandere bts #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #yoongi smut

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inkedells · 1 year

Note

hear me out: dbf!joel railing u on a bed full of plushies HEKSHDKS <3 maybe ur clutching or biting onto one and he's just cooing at u calling u a good girl HEHE

ok don't mind me popping my mf pussy w this drabble (ALSO YES THIS IS THE DBF!JOEL REQUEST THAT DROVE ME CRAZY YALL)

summary/bg info: coming home from college for winter break and acting on the sexual tension that exists between you and your dad’s best friend, joel--while finding extra comfort in your childhood plushies.

words: ~700

mdni! | requests open but responses not guaranteed.

“God, you’re a fuckin’ shy little thing, aren’t you?”

Your mouth only gaped open around a silent moan as your back arched against your childhood bed. You weren’t sure how it ended up in your hands, but you were clutching your favorite plushie, a brown bear with matted curly fur, as Joel continued his ministrations against your clit. The sight of the waistband of your sleep shorts stretched around his wrist was intoxicating, and so was the way his hand moved from underneath the thin cover of its fabric.

“Joel,” you whined, biting your lip as your hips grinded against his hand.

“Mm, that’s right. Only I know how to take care of this pretty pussy. Go ahead, sweetheart, hug your stuffies. I know you wanna.”

You hummed at that, nodding enthusiastically. Your breathing uneven and frantic from arousal, you lazily gathered the plushies surrounding you in your arms as Joel manhandled you until your ass was in the air and your cheek was pressed against the numerous stuffed toys cradled in your arms.

“Now listen here, baby girl. You’re gonna let me fuck this,” He paused to trail a finger along your seam through the fabric of your shorts, as if to make clear exactly what “this” was referring to, “And all you gotta do is keep making those pretty noises and cuddling your little toys, yeah?”

You whined high in your throat in confirmation as Joel slipped his hands underneath the hem of your shorts to palm your ass.

“Not good enough,” He tsked, still massaging circles into your plump flesh, “Repeat it back to me.”

You swallowed, a blush creeping up on the apples of your cheeks as you clutch handfuls of stuffies. “You’re gonna… fuck… me—”

“—Fuck what?”

You groaned, turning to bury your face in the pile of stuffed toys beneath you. “My pussy,” You mumbled. You were positive your face was already beet red from embarrassment.

“Didn’t quite catch that,” He teased. You knew fully well he heard you, but indulging him in this manner was only making the heat between your legs grow hungrier, so you complied.

“You’re gonna fuck my pussy,” You said clearly, “And I’m—I’m gonna cuddle my stuffies while you use it.”

Satisfied with your response, Joel tugged your shorts down until you felt cool air hitting your pussy. Not for long, though, because soon the radiating heat of Joel’s cock was taking over as he swept his weeping tip through your folds.

“Gonna put it in now, ‘kay baby girl?” He voiced in that gravelly low rumble, and although he posed it as a question, you were smart enough to recognize it as a warning for the inevitable. Joel didn’t bother properly stretching you out, he wanted it tight so it would swallow him up just the way he wanted.

He slammed into you, ripping a coarse moan from your throat before the pain of the stretch became too much and you bit down on one of the stuffies in order to stave off a scream.

“Aww,” He mocked, “Is it hurting you, sweetheart?”

“So… big,” You managed to get out, eyes droopy and your brain completely mush as he pistoned in and out of your inviting heat, “Too… big…”

“Oh, fuck,” He groaned to himself, “You really are stretched. Fucking ruined you.” His breathing intensified as he lightly traced where you and him met with his fingers, clearly aroused by the contrast between your tight little cunt and the way his huge cock is forcibly stretching it open. His feathery touches combined with his abrupt, punishing thrusts had you pushing your ass back even further against his front, craving the abusive jerking of his hips.

Joel breathed an amused laugh at that. “Actually, it seems like it’s just the right amount of big if it’s got you pushing back for more. You like it painful, huh?”

“F-Fuck, Joel, yeah. Yeah, I love it painful. God, please, fill me up Joel. Your cum, I want it, please.”

Joel faked a wince at your words. “Looks like the innocent little girl’s suddenly got a mouth on her. That happen a lot? Does cock tend to get you dirty mouthed?”

With your cheek pressed into one of your stuffies, you peered up at him from the corner of your eye as you breathed the words, “Just yours.” It was only barely loud enough for him to hear it over the wet sounds of him fucking into your dripping pussy. In fact, you weren't even sure if he had heard you until a hint of a smile crossed his face and he told you in that warm, rumbly rasp, "Mm, I know. Because you're my good girl," with every proceeding thrust reeking of pride.

see my masterlist here

A/N: may or may not do a permanent taglist? not sure yet, just depends on the demand for it soooo maybe let me know in my asks if you want to be on a *possible* taglist for my fics (i only rlly write joel).

anyway thank you all for the support for this blog and my fics!!! truly love you all, and def don't be afraid to reach out and say hello, i need more mutuals whether you're a writer or not!!

taglist for this fic: @777-wonders , @scarlettstarlettsarletts , @pedrosbabygirl , @deathsholywaterr , @devilmademewriteit

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ervotica · 3 months

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𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing; azriel x fem!reader

summary; and so i cry the light is white and i see you

when your wings are taken from you in a brutal act of torture, you see no way to ease your grief. your mate is there to guide you back when you need him most.

warnings; hurt/comfort, ANGST, suicidal ideation, sorta suicide attempt, in depth descriptions of injury

The wind stings at your flushed cheeks where you stand at the edge of the rooftop. It's dark, iridescent balls of light expanding at every edge of your vision as you take a step towards the lip of the roof that overhangs from the house. Wetness clings to your eyes, threatening to spill over your itching waterline when you gaze down to the sea of lights below.

You long to feel the whip of the breeze against your face as you rise and dive into the night sky, to scream and yell at the top of your lungs as your wings flap behind you in tandem with your family.

You'll never feel that again.

You've been a shell of yourself since the day your wings were taken. Had them brutally cut from your body, hacksawed until all that remained were jagged stumps in place of gorgeous, thick corded planes of muscle. Naked. Half the person you once were. Your back is a myriad of scars, still healing and bruised, ripples of broken flesh marring your once untouched skin.

You are broken and ugly and miserable.

It took weeks to even walk again, weeks of rehabilitation, physical therapy with Madja. Weeks of sobbing in your mate's arms as he held you upright, of wanting to claw your way out of your own skin and scream and rage until something snaps you out of this living nightmare. Weeks of Azriel having to force you to eat and drink, to get outside in favour of withering away in your bed.

You're teetering on the edge of the building now, swaying in time with the gusts of air that threaten to send you toppling onto the street below.

"My love, what are you doing?" Azriel's voice breaks you out of your haze, but you don't move; you don't make any effort to step away from the edge. One wrong move from either of you and you're dead.

"I miss flying," you croak.

"I know you do." His voice oozes with pity and it sends rage hurting through your veins like the white-hot lick of a flame. You stumble, swatting Azriel's hands away when he surges forward to wrench you back. Your pulse roars in your ears and you lose focus of his speech, each pleading word blending into one another until you don't bother to decipher the words at all.

"Come back to me," he shouts over the ringing in your ears. "Come back to me, mate."

The name seizes your muscles, pours into your soul like molten lava and solidifies, heavy and unforgiving.

"Why?" you whirl around, heels hanging over thin air, nothing to break your impact were you to fall - or throw yourself - from this great height. Azriel's unnaturally still, not moving, not breathing- calculating how long it would take him to dive after you if you were to slip. "Why do you call me that? Why don't you run from me, leave me here now I'm not of use anymore."

He takes one step, and then another. Sweat beads on your brow despite the frigid chill of the night- his scarred fingers outstretched, waiting for you to take them. The golden thread inside your chest pulls taut like a bowstring. He's calling you home.

"You are my mate." he says. "I need you. Come back to me, my love."

"I'm ruined, Az." The words stick in your throat like syrup. "I'm no good to anyone, anymore. All I'll do is burden you." A sob rips through you. "You won't be happy with what I am now. I just want you to be happy."

The confession almost brings him to his knees.

Something snaps inside of him; eery calm replaces terror as he surveys you with narrowed eyes and a tilt of his head.

This is not your Azriel.

This is the feared shadowsinger- who wears a mask of cool wrath, who bows to no one. A calculated facade of composure.

"You are not ruined," he growls. The glacial fury in his voice has your breath catching in your throat, your insides freezing as if his words have wrapped icy fingers around your throat. "You are my mate, and you will step down and come to me. Now."

You find yourself complying without question, moving away on wobbling legs until your limbs give out and you're tripping over your own feet, hurtling towards the ground. As fast as the mask appears, it slips away, pure, unrelenting relief cascading down the bond.

Azriel's already there, hooking his arms beneath your own to shoulder your weight, a hand atop your head to anchor your body to his own even as you shudder and scream and soak his leathers with angry tears.

"I know, my love. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he murmurs, the words a whisper into your hair as you claw at him, legs buckled and utterly useless. You're settled against thick muscle, tucked under Azriel's chin where he's lowered you both to the ground.

"I'm nothing," you gasp against his chest. "I have no place here anymore. I'm useless."

His hand is an anchor against the back of your neck, grounding when he squeezes the malleable flesh to draw your gaze to his own.

"You are everything."

The welcome pressure on your neck lulls you into drawing a long breath. Azriel deflates, hazel eyes trained on the rise and fall of your heaving chest.

"I am nothing without you," he continues on. "You are my life and my heart. Were you to die, I'd go by your side with a smile. I can't bear the thought of living in a world where you do not exist."

His wings twitch where they're tucked behind him. Your trembling fingers splay against the sharp angle of his jaw.

"I'm sorry," you croak. "I never want to leave you." His knuckles drag across your cheekbones, brushing away the tears that stain your balmy face. "I don't know how to live like this."

His lips press to your temple, brow nestled against the wisps of windswept hair at the crown of your head. He smears a kiss there and ventures lower. One against your jaw, your chin, in the crease of your brows.

And then he slants his lips over your own. Your muscles go soft, ragged breaths evening as he parts your lips with a swipe of his tongue, a hand splayed against the base of your spine as you sag. He brushes your nose with the tip of a scarred finger.

"Come on," he murmurs, urging you to stand. When you do, he tucks you into his chest, arms slung over your shoulders in a crushing embrace. "I will do anything to make this easier for you, my heart. I know it will be difficult, and I know it's scary. But stay with me."

Your arms tighten around his middle.

"Always."

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myfandomprompts · 9 months

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You Belong To Me Now

Summary: Aemond has become Prince Regent, and there is now nothing holding him from claiming you.

A/N: Quick smutty darkish!Aemond x Reader I wrote, nothing fancy

Words: 2.8k Masterlist [Spanish version - Wattpad by daisy_dont]

Warnings: praise kink, biting, vaginal, bruises, choking, obsession, dom, blowjob

Aemond had been Regent for a few months now, and although the Valyrian steel of the Conqueror’s crown didn’t rest upon his head yet, it was now an undeniable fact to every member of the realm that he had been born for this. All could finally witness his real worth, his superiority and how good he was at being a commander, a King.

No, he excelled at it. The Blacks haven’t even dared to approach King’s Landing even once in the last few months, and under his command all fear him, all obey him. He was far better at this than his father ever was, than his sister ever will be, and certainly than his broken brother is, tucked in his bed.

His new duties obliged him to be away often, to ride Vhagar and lead his armies on the usurpers who wanted to decimate them and take his city, but when he was back in the Red Keep, all he sees is you.

In fact, he wonders why he had never noticed you before as he crosses paths with you in the corridors, watches you in the throne room during audiences, laughing and hugging your lady friends. Maybe you are part of a House who came to the capital in order to help grow his army, that you are the daughter of an ally he had never bothered to be properly introduced to, because this was all they were to him: his subjects.

Nevertheless you are there, bright as the sun when he spots you when he least expects it and, despite his limited vision, he doesn’t seem to miss your presence, ever. He doesn’t miss the way you play with your hair when you're deep in thought, how your hips sway when you walk, how your fingers surround the glass you take to drink and how the skin of your throat glows as you swallow the liquid.

That he became obsessed was an understatement. There was no rest for his mind, and even amidst the excitement of the battle he thought about your appreciative look when he would return, triumphant. He had talked to you once, the sound of your voice making the hair on his skin raise in delight as he was introduced to you. He knew your name now, and he wouldn't stop there, you occupied every corner of his mind and inhabited his skin.

However and to his greatest dismay, the crown keeps him occupied, reducing the occurrences he can observe you, enjoying how you don't cower under his gaze; you staring back at him like it's a game, one that he never intends to lose.

He doesn’t miss the glances you draw from other lords either, eliciting an icy violence deep within his body and it makes his desire for you grow ever greater. He wants you to be his, completely.

This is why he sends for you one night, confident that you cannot refuse after spending the day looking at you like a starved dog, the lust between his legs becoming harder and harder to control. But he was Aemond Targaryen, and what he wanted, he would have.

When you enter his chambers and he dismisses his servant; you look at a loss, but intrigued, like a deer caught between hounds but you are still composed, the very image of a Lady from a House he had only bothered to learn its name today. All he knows, deep in his gut, is that you are right where you are supposed to be.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

He takes in your looks, the way your eyes glints with curiosity, the heaving of your chest constricted in this infernal gown he only wishes to rip off, and how sweet you look as you blush out of uneasiness.

When you shake your head so softly, he grins before coming to stand before you. “You’re here to help me with a matter that needs tending to. But first, I need assistance removing my clothes.”

The widening of your eyes makes the colour of it stand out better, and he waits for you to process his order and obey, admiring your beautiful features and the way your lips part in shock. “Go on."

He knows you cannot refuse, seeing the slight confusion in your eyes as your hands reach the buckles of his collar, undoing it one by one with your pretty, trembling little fingers. It takes all of his patience to not move his hands over your form and revel in the sight, smiling to himself.

When his green doublet is removed, his linen shirt remains and he doesn’t let you take a breath when you pull away. “It’s not over, is it? Continue.”

You cast an almost fearful glare at him before resuming your task, helping him out of his shirt gently with concentrated eyes and when your skin touches his in the process, he has to stop a shaky exhale from escaping his mouth.

He sees how you look at his toned chest, pale defined arms, and then glance at his trousers with tight lips. He retains a sneer as he turns away from you and towards his bed, surprising you with his sudden departure.

“Do you know how the other lords look at you, sweet thing? How they look and look, like they had a chance with you? Do you know how much they wish they could bury their cocks into you and take you as they pleased?”

You turn a lovely shade of red, spreading from your face to your neck and below your cleavage, his lewd words disconcerting you and your perfect little honour. How he likes it on you, that innocence.

“Of course you don’t,” he continues, taking a seat at the edge of his bed and not missing a piece of your deliciously growing, panicking state. “You don’t care about them, do you? You just care about serving your Kingdom at most of your capacities.”

You swallow, your body noticeably relaxing lightly at his words but the movement draws his eye to your neck and he instantly wishes he could mark you there, right at the junction of it, where a mole he had not noticed before lays.

“My Prince, I-”

“Come here,” he beckons, patting on his lap after your croaked out attempt of a response. He will spare you the need to explain that yes, you do want to serve your realm loyally, and thus serve him as well.

You hesitate, eyes darting between his legs and his face, and the lust grows at the thought that he might have to make you obey by other means. But at the sight of his hard expression, you have the good sense to approach, slowly, coming to stand between his legs and he grabs your hips at once, lowering you down onto his lap abruptly.

You let out a yelp at that, your legs forced to straddle him and you have to cling on his shoulders for support, face flushed and thinking fast. Aemond, on the other hand, feels every cell of his body come alive, a wicked smile appearing on his face.

“You know, I haven’t been with many women, but you… you’re something else, aren’t you? You make me understand why men look at women the way they do, what they find so irresistible about them....” he murmurs, putting one strand of your hair aside while his eye trails the pumping of the veins in your delicate neck. “Why all of those lords look at you… But they can’t have you.”

His tone is firmer now, unforgiving. “I have a claim on you they don’t have, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence you came here. That you are in this castle, under my protection.”

You seem unable to speak and the little noises he hears as you try to take a more comfortable position on his lap are like music to him, making him harder under his pants. He takes your hips a little too roughly than he intended in order to pull you to him.

“I’ve been thinking about you for days now, and I ran out of patience, so here is what is going to happen, sweetling. You’re going to take my cock, fully, like the sweet and obedient lady you are so I can feel every damn corner of your cunt, deep enough for me to fill you up.”

With his last sentence he pulls you closer onto him so you can finally feel his hardened state and you whimper in shock, the sound resonating into the room like a pathetic echo as he takes in the sweet scent of your skin, his nose trailing your neck hungrily.

“Hmm, my little pet, so flustered…” he praises as you tense on top of him, your pelvis hitting his member delectably. “You didn’t think I rode the largest dragon in the world and had nothing to show for it, did you?”

He takes a few more moments to enjoy the friction of your layers against his groin, feeling your body turn soft before gently pushing you away from him to let you unlace the ties of your gown with a commanding look. When you are bare before him, he licks his lips, the sight of your pretty little pussy making his now free cock throb in anticipation.

“You are gonna take me so well, you want to please your Prince, don’t you?”

The way you quickly nod in submission destabilises him so much that he has to take a moment before finding his composure again, his desire slowly growing out of control as he stares at you. But he must be patient, enjoy this, because he is no low man, nothing like the rest of them. So he sits back on the bed and invites you to him, noticing your already blown pupils staring at him.

He doesn’t care that you aren’t prepared, that it might be difficult for you to take him this early because the urge to sheath himself deep inside of you is too strong. But when you hover over him and your folds meet his tip you are so fucking wet that all his fears are swept away, replaced by the indescribable lust that takes hold of him, eager to have you, exactly like you want him.

The sensation makes him unable to concentrate before he puts his hands on your thigh to help you down, and it’s absolutely amazing. You’re warm, tight, right for him; the sweet moan that escapes your lips making him twitch as he looks at your knitted brows that tells him you are feeling him, truly feeling him. You go achingly slow and he can’t help but hiss in frustration, but at this point you deserve to have your own pace; he will be able to take his due later, when you’re accustomed to him.

He can tell from your expression that it hurts, and it makes his loins surge with fire at the thought, the wickedness of it so darkly satisfying.

“That’s it, all of it. You’re doing so well.”

He finally feels resistance nudging at his tip and he knows you are completely his now, looking at his cock buried deep inside your cunt and you let out a high pitch moan when you still, flesh against flesh in the most deliciously painful kind of way.

It feels right, he can almost feel your heartbeat upon his length and when he slightly withdraws in order to surge his hips forward, instantly hitting your depth hard, you wail loudly.

Aemond laughs as he squeezes your hips harder. “My sweet pet, so beautiful for me. How is it to feel it so deep? Do you want to move for me?”

He grunts when you start to move; he doesn’t have to do anything, your warmth and slickness making him absolutely wanton, and he doesn’t think he had ever felt this complete in his life. It allows him to look at you, take in your bouncing breasts, magnificently round, and he can’t help but reach for them, propping himself up on a sitting position before biting one of your nipples hard, and the sound you let out makes him want to do it again.

But for now he wants to mark you everywhere, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, your delicate shoulders. He wants to cover you with his tongue and bruise you while you ride him so exquisitely, his mind foggy and half conscious. He feels your nails digging into his back when he sucks at the base of your neck, leaving a trail of drool that covers your skin. He bullies your breasts for his own pleasure and his cock feels every one of your jolts, squeezing him.

He makes you swivel, his length briefly sliding out of you before he lays you down on your belly and enters you again, lacing one arm behind your back to help him pound into you mercilessly, taking full control for the first time and it feels so good that a shameless growl resonates deep within his throat.

“You’re married, aren’t you?” he asks with a grin, admiring your back and the curve of your ass.

“Promised…” you pant through your moans. “To Lord Blount…”

“I see… Then Lord Blount will have an assignment in a land far away very soon,” he purrs with arrogance as he quickens his pace.

The new angle makes you moan loudly, your position seemingly uncomfortable enough to make each rocking of his hips like it’s the last you’ll be able to take. Soon you’re clenching around him, screaming out loud while your shattering orgasm turns you into a puddle in his arms when he lifts you against his chest, whispering in your ear.

“Fucking hell, you like that, don’t you? You couldn’t help but come all over my cock like the good lady you are.”

He keeps jerking his hips until you grow completely silent, feeling his legs momentarily weak when your walls give him a particularly strong squeeze and he withdraws.

You’re unable to move so he lets you lay back on the bed as he examines your folds, red and swollen from his brutal pace and he passes one finger between them to gather your slick. You moan at the sensation as he tastes you, licking his fingers hungrily.

“Bloody Seven, you taste delicious,” he praises as you try to find your breathing. “You’re mine from now on, understood?"

He barely acknowledges the curt nod you make before he laces his fingers around your neck, drawn to its softness and the bruises that begin to form there. He strokes the column of it softly, thoroughly, before grasping the base of your throat so he can hold on to it, hovering over you as he slides gently into you again, your folds spasming briefly from your aftershock. He sees you close your eyes, hiding your beautiful irises from him and he wishes you would look at him, something you do when you feel his hand around your neck constricting.

“Aem-” you let out.

“What is it?” he asks, watching your lips make the most amazing sounds he had ever heard while he rocks into you, his weight on your neck. “Is it my name you want to say? You can scream it if you want.”

But you don’t, to his greatest displeasure, apparently unable to do so as your features stiffen, so he snakes a hand to your dripping cunt, zoning on your swollen clit and you tremble beneath him. When he works your bud, fingers circling it at an unrelenting pace, your lips form an “o” and he decides here and there that he will cum in your mouth. For now, he concentrates on the roll of his hips and the movements of his fingers, one over your neck and the other making you grind onto it in yearning.

You are at his mercy.

“Will you scream my name now, pretty little thing? I can feel you close…”

It takes a tremendous effort from his part to not come undone himself when you finally do, trapped at his own game as you pulse around him, your back arching, and the way you finally cry out his name doesn’t help the little restraint he has left. He growls when you go limp under him, unwilling to let go of your neck and overstimulated bud as he works you through your climax.

“On all fours,” he commands when he finds enough composure to speak, propping himself up on his knees on the mattress and daring to pump himself a few times while you do as told.

He instantly comes to grab your hair, your expression completely in disarray from his brutal ministration on you and, when your mouth meets his weeping head, he can’t process anything, the contrast between the intensity of your folds and the soft warmth and slowness of your tongue killing him. He has the greatest desire to buck his hips into your mouth, to take it all, but your tongue traces along his throbbing vein right before you suck at his most sensitive part and he finishes right there with a croaked moan, painting your mouth with his seed.

You are both panting hard, and when he looks at you behind his hooded eyes, admiring his work, he brings your chin between his fingers and wipes your lips, glossy from his release. “You’ll be there each time I come back, won’t you, pet?”

You nod frantically, exhausted before falling on the bed next to him.

A/N: Thank you @babyblue711 & @arcielee for the beta reading, so much <3

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond #hotdfic #aemond targaryen x reader #smut #dark!aemond x reader #usermyfandomprompts #hotd 1x09 #aemond one-eye #prince regent aemond #Aemond prince regent

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sailing-through-hawkins · 1 month

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putting a pin in a daydream

✧ written for 'pin' ✧ word count: 388 ✧ rated: T ✧ cw: none ✧ tags: stobin being stobin, eddie having horny thoughts ✧ @steddiemicrofic ~\(≧▽≦)/~✧

If there's one thing Eddie has learned about Robin-and-Steve/Steve-and-Robin, it's that their conversations are like a bottomless pit. Trying to find the source, or what's holding the structure together or how this led to that, it's like tying a rope around your waist and being lowered into the abyss. There's just no end or beginning in sight.

"I could be a pin-up girl!"

Eddie chokes as he walks past, coughing out his water with a weak thump to his chest. Steve pats his back, doesn't even glance his way, and Eddie tries to ignore the sparks lighting up in his -

"Oh yeah?" Robin says, rolling her eyes. "And what would I be, your stage set? The flower vase in the background? Tree number four?"

Steve's nose wrinkles so cutely at the remark and Eddie doesn't bother pretending he's not listening anymore. Especially when Steve's eyes go wide and he snaps his finger, his own little 'aha' moment. "We could both be pin-ups!"

The very thought of Steve in a magazine, ready to be ripped out, oh, he could be wearing Eddie's vest -

"Ew, what?"

"Think about it," Steve says triumphantly and Eddie absolutely is. "Me for the guy-likers, you for the girl-likers!"

Robin actually considers it. "What about the no-one-likers?"

Steve scrunches his brow, then shrugs. "A cooking page? Baking? Crochet? I don't know, there's something for everyone."

"Could have," Eddie says hoarsely, clearing out his throat when two pairs of eyes snap to him. "Could have lots of educational shit on there."

"See, Eddie gets it," Steve says, his hand still on Eddie's back, rubbing up and down soothingly, warmly, sweetly -

"Whatever," Robin scoffs. "I bet I'd be put up on more walls than you."

"I'd take that bet," Steve grins and Eddie's mind is flooded with the image of that grin plastered all over his bedroom, one as a firefighter, another as a knight, maybe even one as a rockstar's groupie, laying down in his bed and -

"Oh yeah," says Steve, looking over at Eddie with a bemused smile. "Why'd you stop by anyways, Eds?"

"Just, uh..." he swallows. "Don't remember, actually."

"Ah, hate it when that happens." Steve pats his back sympathetically and takes his hand away, Eddie's skin crying out for the warmth again.

"Yeah," Eddie exhales, mentally slapping himself. "My brain, man."

#sailor✧writes #steddie #writing #microfic #steddiemicrofic #the dinguses (affectionate)#this is a SUPER late entry oof #hope it's good though #i tend to default to eddie having Thoughts about steve when i struggle to write whoops

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ghcstao3 · 5 months

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Ghost never really learned how to properly tie a tie.

He never had reason to. Never had a father that would teach him, either. And when it comes to formal dress after joining the military, he’d always fidget and tug and prod at knots until they looked right, whether or not they were done properly.

He’s tried looking up tutorials, sure, but it’s just… overwhelming as to how many ways ties can be knotted. So he never bothers. Just does his best to pretend like he knows even when he’s so, so lost.

Because it doesn’t matter.

At least, not until—years down the line—his and Soap’s wedding.

Ghost figures it’s his time to finally learn, then, because it has to be perfect. He can’t mimic a knot for such an important day, just praying for the best, he has to do his tie up properly.

But he can’t.

He tries, over and over, watching videos and looking at picture-by-picture instructions, but he can’t. Ghost gets frustrated, hands trembling more and more every attempt until eventually he just… gives up. Rips off the tie and resigns himself to slumping into the nearest chair, running fingers desperately through hair he’d taken so long to make look nice.

Soap finds him much too close to the start of the ceremony, quick to rush to his side and ask what’s wrong.

Ghost isn’t sure when the tears had started welling, or when his bottom lip had started to wobble. He lets Soap gently guide his hands away from his head, pressing thumbs lightly into open palms.

“You’ll think it’s stupid,” Ghost mutters. His tie is loose around his neck, an irritating reminder of why he’s yet to be ready to meet Soap at the end of the aisle.

Soap smiles softly at him. He looks so handsome, as always—him and his perfectly tied tie.

“I doubt it,” he says, oh-so kindly. “Never is.”

Ghost laughs quietly, the sound shaky, watery. He swallows the lump that threatens to rise in his throat, peering into the comfort of Soap’s eyes to lend him strength as he confesses, “I can’t get my fucking tie right.”

“That’s all?” Ghost nods and Soap sighs, sitting down on his knees, pressing the back of Ghost’s hands to his forehead like an odd sort of worship. “Thank God. Had me worried you were rethinking things.”

"I'd never rethink this, I just—" Ghost takes a shuddering breath. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Ghost mourns the loss of Soap's warmth as he lets go of his hands. He lifts a hand to drag through Ghost's hair, surely mussing it in a way that looks better than the tangled mess Ghost had probably left it as. "All you had to do was ask for help."

Ghost's gaze falls to the ground as shame burns his ears. "I just didn't want you to think—"

"I'd never think any less of you for not bein' able to tie a tie, Simon," Soap assures him. "There's a stupid amount of ways to do it 'right', anyway. C'mere."

Ghost leans forward enough for Soap to have a comfortable grip on his tie. He watches Soap's face the entire time, the subtle concentration in his expression, though surely he should be paying attention to how he ties the knot instead.

He doesn't move even as Soap has switched to adjusting his collar and smoothing the artificial wrinkles of his dress shirt.

"Pure braw," Soap murmurs. He sits up to capture Ghost in a kiss, sweet and innocent and comforting.

"You're supposed to save that for after the vows," Ghost says once they break apart.

Soap barks out a laugh. "Prude," he teases.

He stands slowly, then, wincing when his knees crack as he gets up. Soap offers out a hand to Ghost, of which Ghost happily accepts.

Soap grins at Ghost, then, bright and blinding and full of love.

"Let's go get married, then, shall we?"

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #ghoap #writing

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onmyyan · 1 year

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Ashley Hunt NSFW HC'S

A/N: TW'S YANDERE. SMUT, BREEDING KING, ORAL F RECEIVING, F READER, FINGERING, ROPE PLAY, SEMI-PUBLIC PLAY, POSSESSIVE SEX, JEALOUSY SEX, DIRTY TALK, PRAISE KINK

Man's is a service top through and through, he will have you cumming more than once it's just how he rolls.

Likes to tie you up but only with the softest, most expensive rope he can find, his touch is feather-like and leaves a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

This mf not only talks you through it, he coaches you.

"There we go, atta girl."

"Keep clenching that perfect pussy around my fingers sugar, make a mess f'me."

Cowgirl is one of his favorite positions cuz he gets to watch you fall apart on top of him.

He's a boob man, no matter the size, he worships your chest and loves leaving hickeys on them, sucking each nipple hard enough to have you mewling against him, your back arching into his touch.

He love, love, loves when you give him head but 10 times outta 10 he's pulling out before he cums, a choppy, stuttery chuckle leaves him, "Shit Darlin' that mouth of yer's is sinful." as good as you feel, he just has to pull out cuz he feels like with how good your pussy is, the only rightful place for his cum is as deep inside you as he can get it.

Breeding kink up the wazoo, the first time he came inside you he knew nothing else would ever compare.

Grunts and pants of your name, his voice hoarse and desperate for you, whispering praises in your ears, his lips on every inch of skin he can reach while he's pounding into your sweet cunt. The closer he gets to his end, he almost starts to whimper.

His body is strong, years of hard work on the farm have left him sculpted by the Gods and he uses this strength to manhandle you every which way, never hurting you, no he completely dominates you, covers you, he wants you to know exactly who's in charge.

"Use that pretty mouth and tell me what you want." His bedroom voice is enough to get your thighs trembling, there's this no-nonsense aura to it, his grin almost looking wicked as he stared down at you.

Please leave scratches down his back, he goes feral for them at the moment, his hips picking up their intense pace, and if someone happens to see/comment on said scratches the next day, he's as red as his tractor, his ears hot and he has to laugh, fanning himself with his hat as his mind is flooded with images of you.

Speaking of the hat, Ash likes to put his hat on your head when you ride him, his toned and strong hips buck into you with enough force to knock you off, but his rough, hot, big hands grip your hips hard enough to leave bruises, yanking you back into his thrusts with a devious little grin on his face, his canines bared as he growls against your heated skin.

"There we go, that's my good girl, you can do it, Mama."

Big into praise and worship, the most degrading you'll get is if someone manages to make him jealous enough to drop what he's doing, grab you by your arm, and fuck you against whatever surface is closest.

He doesn't even bother taking his pants off all the way, just unzips his jeans and whips out his 8.5-inch cock, already hard for you as he hisses, bucking the mushroom-shaped tip red up against your panty-covered core, he bunches your skirt around your hips, nearly twitching as he rubs the weeping head against the slowly growing wet spot on your clothed pussy.

He'd rip your underwear off with one hand, barely putting in any effort, his blue eyes intense as he glared down at you.

"Son'ova bitch thinks he can just oggle you like that? Bastard has no idea who he's screwing with, you know who you belong to, don't you pretty?"

He doesn't give you the chance to respond, all you can do is hold on for dear life as he teases your clit over and over, the intensity of his actions paired with the aggressive kisses and sucks he was leaving on your jaw and throat made it easy for you to grow wet, your thighs clenching together as he sucked your earlobe between his flushed lips, "I want to hear ya' baby, want everyone out there to hear you fall apart f'me."

Sucks two of his thick fingers in his mouth, soaking them in his spit before toying with your dripping center, his grin is almost malicious as he circles your clit, the bundle of nerves pulsing under his rough touch.

Your twitching pussy drips into his palm as he slips both fingers inside of you, he curls them upward fast enough to make the plush flesh of your thighs jiggle, his pace only increasing when he hears the airy moans slipping past your lips.

He's panting like one of his bulls when they're in a rut, his hard cock pressing against your exposed tummy as he makes you cum hard and fast around his fingers, your gummy walls sucking him deeper as he worked you through your first orgasm.

Before you can catch your breath he's sliding the thick, dripping head of his cock past your twitching hole, grunting as the fat tip slips through the creamy ring. He wastes no time, his hips set a bruising pace, fucking up into you with enough force to have the paintings on the wall jumping, each thrust into your gushing core threatening to send the frames crashing to the floor.

He has your thighs wrapped around his waist, his jeans becoming slightly soaked from how wet and sloppy your pussy was, you could feel him knock the wind from you with each pass of his hips, the way he'd grind his thick cock into you, how the rhythm grew messier and more feral.

"That's right pretty, make those noises for me, tell me whose sweet cunt this is." He said, his grin almost sadistic as he fucks his frustrations out on you.

Type of guy to make you squirt once and try to do it every time after.

Possessive, you can feel it in the way he fucks you, how he loves you, the way he buries himself so completely inside of you.

Type to dress you up in white, almost bridal-looking lace lingerie, just to see you ruined in it, to see your sweet face all fucked out and the once pristine lace covered in your shared sweat and cum.

Speaking of, he cums so much it leaves a puddle below whatever surface he has you against. Long thick ropes, it always makes you tremble when you feel his hot load spill inside you.

His pubic hair is kept trimmed, and his happy trail crawls deliciously up his navel.

He's uncut, his head is particularly sensitive, loves tapping it against your clit.

Loves eating you out, please please sit on his face, all your weight, no holding back just ride his tongue and you'll make him the happiest man alive, he adores how you taste, addicted to the way you cream around his fingers and tongue, the sweet whimpers and moans of his name only encourage him, more often than not you have to tug him away from you by his thick blonde hair.

"C'mon Darlin' don't run from me now." He likes to tease, whispering the words against your thighs as he nips and sucks the flesh, waiting for you to catch your breath so he can taste you again.

Has taken you outside on the farm before, but never when there's a chance someone would see you, he's far too possessive to allow that to happen, people can hear you two all they want, but that god-like sight of you gasping for air as you reached your peak was for his eyes only.

he already thinks of you as his wife, and sometimes, when he's really lost in the heavenly feeling of you gripping him for everything he's got, he slips up, mumbling frenzied fantasies against your mouth.

"My perfect fuckin' wife, gonna make you a mama' gonna stuff you full baby girl."

Likes to fall asleep cockwarming you, one, because the way your over-sensitive body twitches and pulses around his still throbbing cock was addicting, and two, it almost always ended with him waking up inside you, his hips would begin their firm but gentle thrusts, a fresh wave of arousal exploding in his tummy.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere oc x reader #Ashley Hunt #Ashley x reader #My oc #yandere hcs

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moon7jay · 5 months

Note

hard heeseung thoughts 😵‍💫 non con with mean dom her AHHHH

THIS IS NON CONSENSUAL SO DNI IF U R NOT COMFY WITH THOSE THEMES

Boyfriend heeseung who has fucked you on every surface of your apartment and his own dorm.

Boyfriend heeseung who's always horny, ready to take you anywhere and everywhere.

Boyfriend heeseung who ignores your pleas asking to not do it today cuz u r sore from last night

Boyfriend heeseung who doesn't understand consent, you are his, so is your cunt and he can use it whenever he wants, even you can't stop him

Boyfriend heeseung who gets turned on when u tell him to stop, your lower lip wobbling "heeseung please, please don't"

Your whiny voice and real fear in your eyes as u scoot away from him makes him inexplicably hard in his jeans

Boyfriend heeseung who likes how you are so tiny, your soft little fists coming up to hit him on his chest to push him away but it only makes him laugh as u sob

Boyfriend heeseung who forcefully spreads your legs apart, not even bothering to take any of your clothes cuz he's only intrested in getting inside of your fuck hole.

"Don't act like u don't want this fucking tease, prancing around in nothing but my shirt, pussy all up in my face and u wanna act all innocent now? "

Boyfriend heeseung who traps you under his weight, thrusting inside of you, moaning at how you scream and thrash, your pussy burns from his forceful invasion

"It h-hurts, hurts so much heeseung please"

Your cries falling on deaf ears, he's growling like an animal in heat, eyes laser focused on how your lower regions connect, loving the way your tight cunt wraps around his dick. The sounds of skin slapping harshly music to his ears.

"Hurts yeah? Lemme make it hurt some more" Hitting your cervix brutally, going harder everytime you scream

Your arms flail around, full on sobbing and having a breakdown cuz what boyfriend takes advantage of his girlfriend? This is wrong on so many levels, but ur body betrays you, secreting fluids the more he fucks you. Fuck? No. Rapes you.

"Making a mess baby, u want this yeah? Like when it hurts don't you? Come on let's fuck some more"

Boyfriend heeseung who spits in your mouth, liking how u swallow on autopilot, sucking on your tongue forcefully, liking how messy it gets as you cry more.

Boyfriend heeseung who doesn't just make out with you but eats your mouth, his tongue fucking your throat making you choke as saliva drips down your chins, sucking on your tongue forcefully cuz God damn he loves the way u taste in his mouth.

Boyfriend heeseung who rips your(his) shirt off and slaps your tits till they turn red, while rutting into your cunt as your screams of pain turn him harder inside of you.

Boyfriend heeseung who bites and gropes your soft skin, sucking and puncturing your skin with his teeth from anywhere he can get his mouth on, leaving bruises all over you, too lost in the pleasure your body is giving him.

Boyfriend heeseung who manhandles your body onto all fours, focusing on his dick and his pleasure, least intrested about your pleasure or how u keep begging him to stop

"Scream louder for me whore, ask me to stop-oh fuck yeah- gonna rape u all night long" His grunts and groans of satisfaction now sound static to u as u keep sobbing but no longer resisting, letting him bend u and use u like his own cumdump .

Boyfriend heeseung who takes you 3 more times throughout the night, slapping you when u try to run away from him, the veins in his neck visible from how much he loves forcing himself inside of you, beating your insides red.

Boyfriend heeseung who doesn't bother cleaning you up or making you cum, just tucking his dick in his pants and leaving you a crying mess once he's satisfied. Telling you to keep his cum in you or he'll rape u harder the next time he comes over.

Boyfriend heeseung who knows u will come crawling back to him again cuz he's broken you. Turned you into a perfect sex toy. Only existing to pleasure his dick.

#enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #heeseung smut #enhypen #enhypen hard headcanons #enha #lee heeseung

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xazse · 3 months

Note

Heyyy, I'm absolutely in love with all your writing! I read it all in one night😭 Do you think you could for more foxgirl fem reader stuff? The prompt is completely up to you, I don't want to take away from your creativity, but some smut would be greatly appreciated. . .💖

NANAMI X FOXGIRL!READER

Notes: I wasn’t sure which character you wanted so i decided to go with Nanami since that’s where the prompt came from. Btw don’t be afraid to tell me a specific prompt you have in mind, I’m not that creative when it comes to these things so I rely a lot on my followers, so don’t be afraid! Im so happy you read my stuff in one night! It makes me feel good abt writing for you guys <333

Pairings: NANAMI x foxgirl!Reader

Tags: Smut, NASTY!!, hybrid!reader, mating press, mean but soft Kento (kinda), NOT PROOFREAD!

It’s hot, too hot in fact, Kento’s body feels like it’s rising in temperature every few minutes, his dreams feel so vivid and real, a wet hot something is mouthing at his cock, but the fuzz is in his brain won’t allow him to think rationally and clearly. Kento stills before he’s sitting up quickly and ripping the cover off his lower body.

He sees your ears before anything, laid back and relaxed, you don’t even seem to care that you’ve woken him up, not when your tongue is licking him through his underwear, you’ve woken him up and now you’re attempting to tease him? You do look content, eyes fluttered shut and humming around him lowly.

Nanami grabs you by your neck and lifts you up to prop you on his lap, of course you whine and attempt to pry his hand away: it really doesn’t even hurt you’re just so over dramatic: a drama queen as Satoru puts it.

Kento grabs the bridge of his nose in irritation before speaking up, “Can I ask what you’re doing at-“ he looks at the clock on the bedside table, 4:00.

You don’t say anything but of course you pick up the hint when his head turns to the time. Being the mischievous thing you are, you begin licking at his neck, cute white tipped tail swaying back and forth behind you. A deep exhale leaves his lips whilst making no attempt to move or stop you.

You fix your body on top of him, pressing your greedy cunt over his half hard cock, hissing at the good pressure your clit received. He’s already declared when he had been woken up that he won’t help you get off at all, no matter how much you release those cute yelps in desperation.

Your hips begin to move forward and back, his clothed cock slipping in between your folds, your panties are quite bothersome but he won’t tell you to remove them either.

“Mmm..” “Ken-“ you whimpered, coaxing him to help you: it’s started now, you’ll call his name over and over until you get your way, but he’s having none of it.

“Keep going” he attempts to sound void of emotions but the grunt he lets out almost gives him away, you don’t stop grinding your pussy against him. He leans you back a bit to lift up your shirt, your nipples begging him to attend to their needs.

A hot mouth wraps around one of them and sucks, sucks so hard it has you gripping his hair, it doesn’t bother him it just adds on to the stimulation, the combo of you still bouncing against his cock.

You finally get the memo to tug your panties to the side with your free hand, and in the process pulls his cock and balls free, he hissed behind clenched teeth at the rush of cold air against it.

Kento is too big for you to take in all the way, your poor cunt just can’t handle all of him: the first time he attempted it, you could both barely breathe with the amount of times you came just from slipping in a inch every so often.

You line up his fat tip with your pussy, making sure to rub his cock against your clit a few times.

“Ngh…” the sounds coming from your throat as you slowly lower yourself down become louder with each push past his tip.

Finally are you halfway do you stop fully.

“F..uck.. mmmnn..” Nanami groans around your nipple.

His cock fills you up so good, already pressing on that sweet spot, your thighs ache from the position but that doesn’t stop your naughty body from slowly fucking yourself on him, it’s not long till he’s had enough and breaks his vow by flipping you on your back and placing your legs on his shoulders, inching closer to you he has you in a mean, mating press. He wastes no time in pulling all the way and slamming right back into you. Your mewls fill the room rather quickly, the way his cock drags against your walls has you clenching around him nonstop.

“Mhnn, Kent- Kento” you gasp out, he doesn’t acknowledge the desperate look on your face, already so close to cumming, the sounds of his grunting makes you so much more wetter. A thick hand moves itself to your tail and pinches it over and over, and the noise you let out is pornographic, straight out of a film, you’re so sensitive there.

Your clit is throbbing so bad, needy bud needing to be rubbed, you shakily move your fingers to said clit and begin moving side to side, your fingers glide across so easy due to just how wet you are, Nanami hasn’t stopped pinching the end of your nail, everything feels so good: a cock slamming into you nonstop, your fingers on your clit, and added stimulation on your tail. Your body convulses while Kento holds you still: still fucking into you, electric pulses are sent throughout your whole body, you tighten around him and finally cum, cumming with a loud scream that it’s sure to disturb the neighbors.

That doesn’t mean Kento is done when you slump and attempt to catch your breath, he sits himself up on his knees giving you a moment, not that it can be called that, pushing one of your legs towards you, he begins his pace again, you can hear better now, the room is filled with your annoying babbling and the sounds of his pelvis meeting your ass. His balls are so heavy, needing immediately to fill you up, maybe even push you over the edge one more time but he wants to extend this as long as possible, you being able to do nothing but take your impending orgasms nonstop.

#zsworks #fem reader #jjk x hybrid reader #hybrid reader #nanami x female reader #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami smut #nanami x y/n #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader

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grnherbs · 9 months

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behind closed doors.

eighteen plus, mdni

an: my first "proper" fic back in months, I'm so sorry :(( also sorry it's not anything re or related, I've been so reinvested in peaky blinders lately :{ i hope you enjoy anyway, ily lots xoxox. also this is much shorter than i thought so rip.

he pushes your head down into the ground and wraps calloused fingers around your wrists, the bend of his knee in the back of yours as he holds you down. "pinned you again, darlin, haven't i?" he teases, moth by your ear, the accent rolling off his tongue.

he places his hand into his pocket, pulling out a prerolled cigarette and placing it between his lips, before lighting it with the embellished silver gas lighter, one hand still holding your wrists together, swallowing the seemingly tiny frame of your wrists in those veined hands.

the scent of aftershave and cigarettes filled your senses and you inhale somewhat, taking in the familar scent of your friend .

"and where do we go from here, eh?, sweetheart?" he teased, the ever pressing feeling of dirt sticking to your cheek which was smoothed into the floor of the room, feeling amplified tenfold under the sensitivity and passionate embarrassment you were feeling.

"missed you," you whine pathetically out to the older man, words falling on deaf ears as a dark chuckle proceeded to fall from his lips, before he licked them, leaning down and kissing behind your ear, nose rubbing against the back of your neck, sending a shudder down your back, not unfelt by him.

"you're so easy t' work up, all i gotta do is look at you and you're mine, don't i?" and you nod again, breath hitching. he took a drag of the cigarette, flipping you over to straddle his legs either side of yours, placing the cigarette between your lips.

your faces were inches away from eachother and the smoke from your exhales merged together, soft fog settling between you, before dissapating, his harsh blue eyes shone through regardless.

in the next moment his lips were on yours, a surprised squeak leaves your mouth and he smirked into the kiss, parting your lips with his tongue as the smokey taste reverberated into your mouth once more. the kiss was tough but soft, moulding together with every movement as you lay beneath him.

his hand lazily made its way down your body, laying on instances, caressing your throat, your collarbones, your chest.

"c'mon then, lemme show you why you're mine" he coldly states, bringing his mouth to your neck, undoing buttons on the work shirt you wore, until you lay exposed to him, cold air prickling at your nipples and he raises an eyebrow before moving down to kiss them, cigarette long forgotten, lay sizzling in the ash tray to the side of your head.

his long fingers stay tracing your sides, drawing figures and he dotes or your nipples, a whine escaping your mouth "shit..." you exasperate, feeling his pride bouncing off his activity, egging him to carry on his ministrations and he does.

he pulls your shirt fully off now, chucking his cap to the side and moving his lower body up to completely lift your skirt, not bothering to even pull it off. he shuffles down and you hear a laugh as he plunges a finger into you, wet slick covering them and you gasp, gripping his wrist and tears brim in your eyes, he shushes you, kissing your jawline and begins to move his finger in slow movements, stretching you out as much as possible, enjoying the pulse of you wrapped around it.

"my gorgeous fuckin girl ey?" he retorts, watching you writhe around upon him "this needy for a fucking finger, and you just wait till i stick my cock in you, innocent girl" his dark drawl echoes in your head and you feel drunk from the sound of it, before you notice he's slipped another finger in and begins fucking you with them, lewd sounds filling the air, along with the explicit sounds leaving your own mouth.

"t-tom what if someone hears us" you whine up into his chest and he shakes his head "let 'em, let 'em hear what a fucking whore you are for me" he leans down again, kissing your forehead "whatever happens behind closed doors darlin'"

his fingers reach spots you simlly couldn't and the euphoria of the high hits you, cheeks reddening as moments tick by, watching him;watching you.

he removes his fingers before you climax, pushing your knees apart with a tap of his palm on yout outer thigh, obediently you know what he wants now, used to the routine which follows now. he unbuttons his trousers, almost excruciatingly slow, eyes fixed upon you the whole time, barely even bothering to pull them down past his knees, as he's fucking into you in seconds.

his hips jut into you with a quickened pace, sweat resting upon his brow as he buries his head in your shoulder again, huffing out a string of curses by your ears, the eroticism increasing by second. "s-shit!" you cry out, moaning even louder now, sloppily moving your hips in time with his too, synchronised, entirely in the moment together.

he strokes your hair from your forehead as he leans upon his forearm to gather more momentum, fucking into you with force now, his own breath becoming shallow and his pace becoming sloppier, trying to hold out for longer, groaning about how good you feel in your ears.

the build up in your stomach rising and falling and rising again, each time closer and closer to the brink of falling over the edge. "tommy, please, i, i want to, need you" and he soothes you again, nodding, his own high approaching as he helps you ride out your orgasm, legs clenched round his waist, pulling him in, clenching around him as he cums deep within you, a content sigh leaving his throat, collapsing upon you.

you lay breathless for a moment, his body on top of yours and you both pant with exhaustion, whilst you lazily stroke his hair, eyes heavy and heat lingers in the air.

he plants a kiss on your collar, leaving you smiling and you bite your lip. he nudges in further and you close your eyes. content within the moment.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders smut #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #smut #thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine

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ohbo-ohno · 6 months

Note

A small flower that sprays spores you happen to inhale in an attic

From the prompt list thing for Price x Reader? Please?

1k game here - no more please!

yknow im not really a big fan of sex pollen, but i gave it my best shot <3

2k of sex pollen smut with price! usual dubcon stuff because of sex pollen, but you and price are married so you're totally down <3 this is just pwp

"Hey, honey?" You call down the ladder, turning your find over in your hands.

"Yeah?" Price calls back, grunting as he drops a box on the floor below you.

You'd only felt bad for a few moments having him do all the heavy lifting, but you're perfectly content to dig through the contents of the attic. Neither of you had realized quite how full it was when you bought the house, but you'd much rather spend your day digging through old boxes than carrying them in from your moving van.

"Come take a look at this for me!"

You turn the little jar over again, shaking it just a bit and making the little flowers inside shift around the bottom. They're quite pretty - a bright pattern of red and pink, with a bit of black at the center - but you've never seen them before.

"What is it, love?" John asks from over your shoulder. You scooch closer to where he's propped on top of the ladder to the attic, forearms resting against the floor.

"Have you ever seen these before?" You pass the jar off to him, folding your legs beneath you and admiring John's shirtless form. He's a little red in the face, a lot sweaty, and you can't help but think about taking a short break from moving in...

"Hmm..." he turns the jar in his hand, just like you had. "I've never seen them before. Not too surprised, though." He shoots you a grin, offering the jar back. "Never did have much of a green thumb."

You take another peek, then pop the top of the jar open. The flowers are much more vibrant without the grime of the glass covering them, and you tip a few into your palm.

"Look," you say, offering your palm out to John. "They're so pretty!"

He takes a deep breath, leans a little further into the attic. "Not as pretty as you, love."

You roll your eyes, but can't resist the small smile. "That one was bad, even for you."

His grin is cheesy, his whole expression lovesick as he rests his chin on his folded arms. "I only speak the truth, love."

You can't help but giggle, tucking one of the flowers behind his ear. It's one of the only ones with a stem long enough to fit, and it looks quite silly next to his sweaty face and thick beard.

"There," you pat his cheek, shifting away to go back to your boxes. "Now you're as pretty as me."

"Now that will never be true."

———————————————————————

You don't see John again until that evening, when you're in the shower.

He'd spent the day downstairs, moving all your furniture about with his classic rock playing loud. You'd spent the day upstairs, finishing up your work in the attic and getting your bedroom and bathroom ready for the night while trying to drown his music out with the likes of ABBA and Madonna.

You'd brushed by each other a few times - playful dances, a bit of heavy petting over lunch - but had worked through what should have been dinner. As you wash the conditioner from your hair, you decide you should suggest pizza in bed for tonight.

You're humming to yourself when the shower door opens behind you, your husband already naked.

You smile when you get over the slight scare. "Hey, honey. Gonna join me?"

That's when you notice that something is a bit... off. He's naked but for the little flower behind his ear, which makes it easy to see how flushed his entire body is, and how obscenely hard his cock is between his legs.

"Oh," you can't help but blush a bit, turning to face him. "Feeling a little desperate, John?"

You mean it as a tease, but the sound that rips from your husband's throat is nearly broken. He's tearing into the shower before he bothers to answer, shoving you back into the slick tile and pressing every inch of skin he can against yours.

"John!" You gasp, giggling a bit when one of his rough hands jerks your thigh up and around his waist, the hot length of him resting between your folds. "Slow down, sweetheart, there's no rush."

He drops his forehead to yours, and you start to really see for the first time how needy he is. His face is almost tomato red under his whiskers, and his eyes are screwed up tight, almost like he's in pain.

"John?" You ask tentatively, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other cupping his warm cheek. "Are you alright, love?"

He shudders against you, only growing more tense. "Yeah, yeah love. Just... need to be inside of you, need it so fuckin' badly."

There's an edge to his voice you rarely hear, and there's a part of you that sparks in confusion, a bit of concern. But you arch your back for him, hike your leg a bit higher on his hip to truly spread yourself. "It's alright," you reassure, petting his cheek. "I'm always here for you, John, you know that."

He pushes into you too quickly, your body far from prepared to take something the size of him. But the slight pain melts into pleasure quickly as you melt in your husbands arms.

He's rough, rougher than he almost ever is, and you know your back will be bruised come morning. Every thrust in forces a loud gasp from you as you try desperately to breathe around his pace, your breaths syncing with his.

"Ugh," he moans against your neck, head dropping. "You feel... so good, so fucking good, love."

"You feel good too, John," you just barely manage to gasp out, nails digging deep into the muscle of his shoulders. "So- so big."

His moan is carnal, a rumbling sound that you can feel in your toes, and his thrusts somehow gets even rougher. The sound of his thighs slapping against yours is loud in the quiet bathroom, the sound of water dampened where it sprays against his back.

"God, you're like a vice," he hisses. "Tightest cunt, so good for me... perfect for me, just for me."

"Yes, yes," you chant, head resting against the tile. You rarely come from penetration alone, but hearing John's pleasure is enough for you to feel satisfied already. "Just for you, love, promise."

That's what finally pushes him over - he latches onto your neck, sucking a bruise there as he buries himself to the hilt, grinding himself as deep as he can go while moaning into your throat. You feel the spurts of his come inside of you, familiar after all these years together.

You're both panting in the aftermath, caught up in the pleasure.

You only realize he's still hard when he stands up fully, gripping your other thigh and helping you wrap it around his waist so he's fully carrying you.

"John?" You ask, shifting against him and causing you both to moan. "You're still...?"

He groans low in his chest as he carries you out of the room, confidently striding towards the bed. "I know."

"How... did you take something?"

He makes an offended sound, dropping you onto the bed and following you quickly enough after to keep himself inside of you. "Course not. Never needed any help in that department, not with you."

You're flattered, of course, but can't help but feel a little disconcerted by the fact that you can feel his come even though he's completely hard still.

"Alright," you say a moment later, tucking your legs as far up on his sides as they'll go.

He lifts his head just far enough for you to see him cock an eyebrow. "Alright?"

"Let's see how long you last, Captain."

You can feel his cock twitch inside of you, and he swallows your giggle with a kiss. He doesn't even bother to tease you back - to your slight disappointment - and instead begins to work his hips out of you, a slow drag out and a harsh push back in.

You both moan in sync, loud in the silence of your bedroom. You can't help but arch beneath him, trying to open yourself up more. As he starts to hit his stride, your knees tucked over his arms and pushed as high as he can without you pulling something, you feel the way the base of his cock rubs against your clit on every thrust in.

"Jo-John," you gasp, clinging desperately to his shoulders. "That feels so good, so good, love... oh, fuck, honey!"

"Yeah?" He grunts, face pulled tight above you. "Feel good? Gonna come for me, love? C'mon, attagirl, squeeze me tight... fuck, just like that, yes..."

He manages to get off much faster this time, but that doesn't seem to dull the intensity of his orgasm at all. He's still vocal, throwing his head back and letting all of his sounds out for you to hear. You manage to work your hips in just the right way to grind yourself against his flesh, and quickly find your own peak beneath him.

And still, it's not enough. You feel him working himself slowly against you minutes later, when you come down from your high.

You can't help but whine, your pussy oversensitive so soon after your orgasm. John doesn't pull out, though. He leans down enough to pepper kisses over your face, and begins to slowly fuck you again.

"J-John," you weekly protest, channel squeezing tight around him against your own will and drawing moans from both of you. "T-too sensitive, honey, I need a break."

"'m sorry," he pants against you, lips pressed to your cheek and leaving a small trail of spit. "I can't... I can't, love, need you too badly.

"John..."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry..." He sounds almost choked up above you, his voice cracked as he starts to pound into you faster and faster, forcing your legs higher. "I need to fuck you, love. Need to come. Can't... can't go another minute without- fuck, without you."

"You have me," you try, unable to keep yourself from trying to squirm away.

He snarls suddenly, forcing your legs so far back that your knees nearly brush the mattress. "Not yet," he spits, more beast than man above you. "Haven't... haven't given you enough."

You can only keen loudly, spine arching as the aftershocks of pain slowly morph themselves into pleasure.

Every thrust drags against oversensitive nerves, the clap of skin almost deafening. He brushes against your clit with just enough force to keep you on edge, keep you whining and moaning beneath him.

"Close," he pants, battering into you. "Just.. just a little... fuck, so close..."

"Come, John, please!"

Your own begging is what pushes him over the edge, your hole milking him for all that he's worth, even as you remain on edge.

He finally lets your legs fall from his arms, and you lightly shove at him until he falls away from you.

The both of you are panting as you lay side by side, staring up at your ceiling fan.

"Holy shit," you whisper, minutes or hours later. Your nerves feel like they're on fire, buzzing beneath your skin.

"Ditto," John echoes, sounding equally as rattled as you. It's almost impossible not to giggle at your poor husband sounding so shocked at his own stamina, and you roll into him so you can bury your face in his chest.

"What?" He asks, smile audible already. You don't even have to say anything for him to laugh too, your happiness always contagious. Soon enough he's wrapped himself around you, tucking his face safely into your hair and hiding his smile.

You fall asleep just like that, thoughts of pizza in bed long forgotten, and wonder if you can convince John to take whatever it is he must've had again sometime soon.

#this is the last one for today!#john price x reader #price x reader #john price #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #john price smut #price smut #1k celebration #bo writes

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snowsinterlude · 4 months

Text

"lust at first bite."

(coriolanus snow x f. reader)

summary: a love with a hunger for flesh, a love that doesn't know any type of kindness except for it's hunger, it's much better than a love full of fragility. (repost)

c.w: heavy implications to cannibalism, drinking blood, biting, consuming eachother as a way to show love, intimacy. obsessive, possessive relationship, toxic relationship, there is eroticism in the act of drinking your loved one blood, mentions of sex, reader is very much despicted as a vampire, mentions to murder and cannibalizing a human heart

"i want to taste your thoughts and your blood. i want to wrap your brain on my finger and eat it. i want to rip your heart out of your ribcage and drink out of the hole i did on you."

chapter one: a vampire's lovebite.

you were coriolanus leech. his favorite vampire. the eroticism of your teeth sinking into his flesh during sex was enough to get him laughing with the horrible pain on his skin, on his flesh.

every oportunity you had to suck his blood, cut his skin, taste his flesh, you would be drowning in it. you loved him so much it was only necessary to show it- even if through bites.

fucking wasn't enough. kissing wasn't enough. holding hands would never be enough for you. you could feel your gums itching to sink your teeth on his white skin. you wanted to make a mess out of him, you wanted to taste him up.

"my love," you called, your stiletto red nails passing through his skin. you wanted to stab him with them. he didn't bother opening his eyes to look at you. he already knew what you were thinking.

"yes, dove." he pronounced himself, his nails scratching on your skin as your shivered with such a perverted, intimate act.

"can i taste you?" he frowned at your question.

"you already did it. we actually just did it." he joked. and you laughed, your pretty canines shining at the light of the light bulb.

"not like that, baby." you said, taking matters into your own hands as you got closer to him, your hands on his neck as you brushed your thumbs on his adam's apple. you wanted to choke him. he would look so pretty. "i want to taste your blood."

"i don't see why not." his answer made you light up immediatly, your sharp teethed smile making his heart flutter too.

that was the first bite you gave him.

chapter two: hunger for a queen.

coriolanus hand found your waist quickly, taking you away from festus with a smile. the proximity of that brat on his favorite vampire was terribly audacious. how dared he get closer to the thing he loved most? didn't he knew what could happen to him?

"my dove," he called, kissing the birthmark on your neck with a smile. "i was searching for you everywhere." he said, thumb caressing your waist kindly. he looked at festus with a soft smile, greeting him with a bow if his head as you two walked away.

he waited patiently for that fucking party to end. he hated seeing you around other men. if it was up to him, he'd happily govern panem from the inside of his study room, sending orders while fucking your throat.

"why the fuck were you so close to that fucker?" he growled, pinning you against the sink of your shared bathroom.

"which one?"

"all of them, but especially festus." he said, looking into your eyes with hunger shining on them.

"my love, you know you're panem's president right now. i can't risk your place on the government. you know that being panem's first lady i have to stick up to people. i have to hear what they have to say about you and say that you're better than those rumours." you said, teeth grazing on his neck.

"what rumours?" he asked, letting you brush your teeth on his pale neck.

"you know, those saying you are a terrible person who killed a random number of people to be where you are right now." you sucked on his skin.

"those are not rumours." he grabbed your throat, pushing you to look at him, and you did, smirking at him. "and you know it."

"of course i do. but they don't need to know about it now, do they?" you answered, and he growled, slapping you face, not hard enough for it to hurt, but enough for it to be a blushing mark on your cheek.

"you should know better than to be up there on those galas getting all intimate with those men." he said, sinking his teeth on you

hungrily, angrily.

it was the first bite he gave you.

chapter three: why don't you eat me now? you can.

day after day, your relationship with your husband was perfect.

for you two, at least. any of the maids that worked with you two agreed that your relationship with him was, to say the least, odd.

the moans on your shared bedroom at night seemed happy. the rough fucking session you both had almost on a daily, weekly basis seemed to make you both very happy.

the scratching on his back was almost crimson red. the bite marks and hickeys on your shoulders and neck were almost purple. that was the strange part. it made your maids think you were suffering some kind of domestic violence.

now, you were on top of him, riding him, your hands travelling up his neck as you finally choked him, his hands gripping on your waist so tightly that the crescent marks of his nails would probably never leave your body.

his eyes welling up, your teeth biting your bottom lip, his cock throbbing inside you.

you both wanted to eat one another.

to consume your heart, bit by bit, would be the perfect taste for him.

and to twirl his brain on a fork and eat it, enjoy it, feel the taste of his thoughts on your tongue, would be perfect for you.

and both of you didn't need to say anything, only the thoughts of consuming one another through rough bites was enough to make you both reach for your climax.

you kissed him dearly, biting his bottom lip hard enough to drain blood out of it, which you drank and felt perfectly healthy with doing so.

god knew what he was doing when he put you both together.

chapter four and last: lust for a vampyr.

smiling, you placed a silver plate in front of him on the bed.

"what is the occasion?" he asked, kissing your shoulder.

"nothing, dear." you said, taking the bell looking thing off the plate you gave him, a heart being encountered in it. "i just seemed to bump accidentaly on the woman who flirt with you last week."

he smiled, kissing your temple and laughing. "you're so jealous, bat." he said, pulling you to his lap. "god may know what to do with those poor girl's soul." he said, purring on the curvature of your neck.

"i'm just taking care of what's mine." you answered, mewling into his kisses as you pushed the platter aside.

"don't even need to. i'm attached to you, darling. i can't want nor desire anything that is not your blood or your flesh." he said, kissing your mouth in such a lewd kiss.

"don't flirt with those girls, then." you said, pouting and kissing his forehead.

"never would do that. not when i have you. best of wives and best of women." he said, sucking kindly on your neck.

you both were made for eachother. your violent vampiristic wish to drink his blood every morning matched with his grotesque cannibalism wish to devour you.

you were a match made in heaven. god blessed your relationship knowing it while he planned on giving that girl's heart to a mutt.

he wanted you. fuck those capitol girls. he had you. that was enough to get him going.

he sank his teeth on your neck at the same time you did to him, a sign of how you both needed and loved eachother. a love with hunger and strong by lust is better than a love with kindness and weak by warmth.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #young coriolanus snow #young president snow #coriolanus x reader #ask blog #coriolanus x you #tbosas smut #cannibalposting #cannibalistic #asks open #fem reader #x reader #repost

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