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star-ocean-peahen · 7 months

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After watching Cinderella (the original animated movie, which was my favorite as a child), it strikes me how it solves many common problems people have with this fairy tale. Like:

Why did they try to identify the mystery girl using her shoe size? Because the bullheaded king's only clue to her identity was the shoe the Grand Duke picked up off the steps.

Why didn't the prince recognize her by her face? Because his father wouldn't involve him in the process at all, and wasn't the one going around trying to find her.

Why did the prince want to marry a lady he only met that night? Because his father was going to force him to marry someone, and he genuinely liked this woman.

Why did Cinderella want to marry a man she only met that night? Because marriage was her best and most secure way to freedom. Fucked up, but you can't say it's unrealistic for the setting of a fairy tale. She also genuinely liked him.

If they're using the slipper to find her, wouldn't it be more sensible to search for the person with the other slipper? Yes. The King is purposefully nonsensical and the Duke is purposefully terrified enough of him to carry out his orders to the letter. Furthermore, they end up doing that in the end anyway, because the Duke's glass slipper is shattered, and Cinderella brings out the one she has to prove her identity.

Why didn't the stepmother and stepsisters recognize Cinderella at the ball? Because they were dancing too far away, and then left the party to dance in private, which was possible because the King wanted very badly for his son to hit it off with someone and tried to arrange the best conditions for that to happen.

Why didn't Cinderella save herself? Because in real life, abuse victims should not have to shoulder that responsibility, and usually can't. In real life, you need and deserve an external support system. Asking for help, in this kind of situation, is very important. She is saved by others because she is loved. Because she is not alone. Because she has friends who love her, and want her to be happy and safe and free. Because in real life, people who want to help someone who is suffering are like the mice. We can't pull out miracle solutions, but we can provide companionship and if we're in the right place at the right time, we can help the person find a better life.

Why didn't the fairy godmother save Cinderella from her abusive household, or try to help her sooner? Because she's magic, and magic can't solve your problems. Quote: "Like all dreams, well, I'm afraid it can't last forever." This (and Cinderella's dream of going to the ball) is a metaphor for pleasurable things in bad circumstances. An ice cream won't get rid of your depression, but it will provide you with momentary happiness to bolster you, as well as the reminder that happiness in general is still possible for you. Cinderella doesn't want to go to the ball so she can get away from her stepmother and stepsisters, or so she can meet someone to marry and leave with. She wants to go to the ball to remind herself that she can still have things she wants. That her desires matter. This is important because the movie does a very good job of illustrating Lady Tremaine's subtle abuse tactics, all of which invisibly press the message that Cinderella doesn't matter. While going to the ball and fulfilling her dreams may not be a victory in the material sense, it is still a victory against Lady Tremaine's efforts.

Why is Cinderella's choice to be kind and obedient framed as a good thing, when you are not obligated to be kind to your abuser? This one walks a very fine line, but I think the movie still makes it make sense. Lady Tremaine never acknowledges her cruelty. She always frames her punishments of Cinderella as Cinderella's fault. Cinderella is interrupting, Cinderella is shirking her duties, Cinderella is playing vicious practical jokes. Cinderella is still a member of the family, of course she can go to the ball, provided she meet these impossible conditions. Lady Tremaine's tactics are designed to make Cinderella feel like she must always be in the wrong and her stepmother must always be in the right. If Cinderella calls her stepmother out on her cruelty, or attempts to fight back, Lady Tremaine can frame that as Cinderella being ungrateful, cruel, broken, evil, etc. If Cinderella responds to her stepmother's cruelty defiantly (in the way she's justified to), she's not taking control out of Lady Tremaine's hands. Disobedience can be spun back into her stepmother's control. She wants Cinderella to be angry and sad and show how much she's hurting. So since Cinderella is adapting to her situation, she chooses to be kind. Not only because she naturally wants to be and it's part of her personality, but because it is a form of defiance in its own way, and it allows her to keep a reminder of her agency and value. Her choice to be kind is her chance to keep her own narrative alive: she is not obeying because her stepmother wants her to and she has to do what her stepmother does, but because she wants to. It's a small distinction, but one that makes all the difference in terms of keeping her hope and identity. (Fuck, I wrote a whole paragraph about how this doesn't mean you can't be angry at people who hurt you or that you need to be kind to deserve help, and then deleted it by accident. Uh. Try again.) Expressing anger and pain is an important part of regaining autonomy and healing. Although it is commendable to be kind while you are suffering, it is NOT required for you to get help or be worthy of help. If Cinderella's recovery was explored beyond "happily ever after" she would need to let herself be angry and sad to heal. Cinderella is not only kind because it comes naturally to her, but because it's her defense against the abuse she's suffering. Everyone's story and experiences are different, and one does not invalidate the other.

Bonus round for answers that aren't part of the movie:

Why didn't Cinderella run away? Where would she go? Genuinely, in hundreds-of-years-ago France, where would she go if she snuck out of the window with a change of clothes? With her step-family, she's miserable and abused, but she's fed, clothed, and in no danger of dying or being taken advantage of by anyone other than her stepmother and stepsisters. Even if she escapes and manages to find financial security, her stepmother might be able to find her and get her back.

Why didn't Cinderella burn the house down with them inside it/slit their throats in the night/poison their food/etc.? Because that's a revenge fantasy, and this story is a fantasy about being saved. There's nothing wrong with making Cinderella into a revenge fantasy. That's perfectly fine, as long as you acknowledge that the other type of fantasy is also a valid interpretation. (I mean, the original fairy tale features the stepsisters getting their feet mutilated and all three of them getting their eyes pecked out, so go for it.)

Why isn't Cinderella more proactive in general? Because she's a child who has been abused for the back half of her life, who has had to be focused on survival because. you know. she's an abused kid.

How did she dance in glass slippers? Gotta agree with you there man, that's weird.

#cinderella #cinderella (1950)#fairy tales

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shotmrmiller · 2 months

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tw: mentions of roofies, murder, then smut:)

cbf!simon would absolutely kill for you.

cbf!simon has always been your partner in crime.

even in your youth, back when he was built like a daffodil, he was always by your side. kept you safe from the mean girls at school, always got in trouble for throwing hands at boys who made crass comments at you and the like. then he'd left his butcher job to join the military. "I gotta learn how to keep you safe, love. i'll always come back to ya."

and he had. he returned to you almost four times his size; he left a boy and came back a man. down to your very bones, you knew that he would always keep you safe.

which is why he was the first person you called when the guy next to you at the bar roofied your drink. the beer fizzed irregularly and had an almost milky colour even though it was an ipa.

the idiot had dared to smile at you, an oily, crooked grin with yellow teeth, and lifted his own glass to toast with you.

you bolted out of your seat in seconds, heading straight to the ladies' room, and dialed.

he answered on the second ring.

"please come get me." you hadn't meant to sound as terrified as you felt.

"be there in 5," then hung up.

he lived 15 minutes away from the dingy bar.

true to his word, he was there in 5, texting where you were at.

inside the ladies bathroom.

he let himself in, put his jacket around your quivering shoulders, and with a strong, comforting arm, guided you toward the exit and into his truck. simon remained silent as he sat you in the passenger seat, gently pulling the seatbelt over your chest, clicking it into place.

he stood next to you, his hands resting on your jean-clad thighs, waiting patiently for you to explain.

your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you sort out your thoughts. you no longer felt afraid, that much was certain. simon has always been your pillar of strength. there was nothing to fear with him at your side.

so why do your hands continue to tremble? digging deeper, you realize that you're angry. no.

furious.

some imbecile thought he'd take advantage of you. if you'd been any more drunk, you would have been a victim— wound up lifeless in a dirty ditch.

you burned with fury, your blood boiling under your skin. how dare he? how dare he?

simon softly touches your tightly clenched hands, coaxing your fingers to unfurl.

everything pulls hard to port when your eyes land on his disfigured knuckles— scarred by battle. you've never liked what simon did for a living. he just fought and killed people that some higher-up told him were the bad guys.

in war, there is no good or bad side. the field is too soaked in blood for anyone to recognize where the line is if there even was one to begin with.

until now. just this once, you couldn't be more grateful that simon possesses the skills he does.

you make your decision. "there was a guy in there. green hat, ugly brown jacket with yellow, crooked teeth. he drugged my beer, then toasted me so i would drink it."

his hands tighten around yours marginally. "and now i'm here, safe, with you. but he's still in there, with potentially a pocket full of pills, on the lookout for his next victim. how am i supposed to sleep tonight, knowing that if someone goes missing tonight, the blood will be on my hands?"

you cut your eyes to his dark, hardened ones, and the words tumble out of your mouth with surprising ease.

"there's trash in there that needs throwing out, simon."

nothing but a wretched mongrel that needs to be put down.

simon's nod is subtle, but it's there. you exhale a shuddering breath, heart slamming against your ribcage.

he's a gun in your hand, and you've just pulled the trigger.

simon hands you the keys to the truck. "are you sober enough to drive home?" he quietly asks.

hard to keep a buzz when you almost became a victim of—

"yes."

he's opening the glove compartment, taking out his skeleton gloves, and a tac knife that he tucks inside the waistband of his jeans.

"go home. i'll see ya in a bit." his voice is flat, lifeless.

simon closes the door and raps his knuckles on the hood of the truck before heading inside.

and so the elephant marches to war.

it's well past midnight when he crawls in through your window. one moment his boots are on the windowsill, the next he's pinning you onto your mattress, hips flush against yours.

his chilly, clean hands lift the hem of your loose shirt, dimpling the soft skin that his fingers dig into— his bare lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"he is no longer a problem."

he grinds his clothed erection against the flimsy fabric of your sleeping shorts.

"you did the right thing by telling me what he did."

simon trails a path of open-mouthed kisses from your ear down to your mouth, licking your bottom lip.

"nothing gets me harder than when my girl looks at me to keep her safe."

your breath hitches when a hand begins to move south, lifting the waistband of your bottoms and sliding his fingers over your slick pussy. "it seems you like it too. does it turn you on, ordering me around like a dog? i bark at your command, pet."

one finger sinks into your wet heat, his groan drowning out your own.

"you like having this much power over me? how easily i bend to your will?" he croons.

there are two fingers in you now, so much thicker than your own, and the way they curl and drag along your nerves has your toes tingling. he takes you to the precipice at frightening speed— the expert hands that kill without remorse are the same ones that are bringing you your pleasure.

he thrusts his fingers into you with an obscene squelch and a thumb circles your slippery clit.

"i'd burn the world to ashes if you asked it of me."

the coil in your stomach is tight, your body tense in anticipation.

"so... would you? would you ask me to bring the world to its very knees?"

the answer sits on the tip of your tongue when you climax around his fingers, walls pulsing rhythmically, arousal dripping from his knuckles.

later will be a good time to reflect on how you don't feel even remotely guilty for what's been done.

for now, you focus on how good simon feels as he slowly sinks into you, splitting you wide open with his heavy cock.

simon finds no pills in the guy's pockets. no baggie, no bottle.

nothing.

shame that his little love has declared the guy's life forfeit.

your wish is his command.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #cbf!simon #cod smut #cod

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smutstationchoochoo · 9 months

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Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room.

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?” His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment. It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up. Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

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tawnfawn · 4 months

Text

intoxicated | könig

summary: you get along with everyone on your team, except for könig. you think he hates you, but his perceived distaste for you only makes you want him more. you're able to keep your composure until you're partnered up for a mission, where everything seems to go wrong...

tags: könig x fem!reader smut. cod. pure filthy, shameless smut. sex pollen. proofread. MDNI. 5,000+ words

cw: dubcon (due to sex pollen but there's clear consent before and after). unprotected sex (reader IS on birth control, wrap it before you tap it), p in v, oral m!receiving, fingering, accidental drug use (sex pollen), dom!könig and sub!reader, light humiliation kink, heavy praise, size kink if you squint, overstimulation, mutual pining, violence, killing.

MDNI. NSFW BELOW THE CUT

You crept around the corner of the warehouse with your rifle, watching König’s six as you progressed. The other KorTac members were stationed on site as well, giving quick updates through comms as you progressed. Details were scarce, except that in the warehouse, a Russian terrorist group was producing a bioweapon capable of mass destruction—and anyone inside was KOS.

Of course, the bioweapon in question was…dubious, to say the least. A strong aphrodisiac, the contractor had explained, much to the astonishment of your team. During the briefing, you’d managed to keep a straight face, but not all of your teammates were as courteous.

“So let me get this straight—you want us to risk our lives for…Viagra?” Horangi had questioned, exasperated. Your lips pursed at his crudeness, but it was exactly what you were thinking too.

The scientist’s face flushed. “N-no, this is much different,” he snapped. As one of the architects of the bioweapon, he was clearly offended. “It is much, much stronger. Exposure to just one dose will cause severe arousal: heart palpitations, excessive sweating, overheating. Imagine…” He seemed to be struggling to find the words. “Imagine a brain overload, yes? Rational thinking…disappears. Victims may lose all motor control. Too long without treatment can result in heart failure, aneurysms, seizures, stroke, and sometimes death.”

“So what is the treatment?” you interrupted, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Sex,” the scientist answered, shifting uncomfortably on his heels. “It was designed to be, ah… difficult.”

Your jaw clenched, and your eyes darted to König. He was staring down the scientist, narrowed eyes betraying no emotion. While everyone else struggled to keep their bafflement hidden, his sniper hood obscured any hope of reading him. Just my fucking luck, you thought when you were partnered with him.

It wasn’t that you disliked König; it was just that you found it so much more difficult to talk to him. With the rest of your teammates, you were fine. A natural people reader, you were comfortable with the rest of them, relying on body language and the details they let slip to learn more about them. In fact, you considered yourself to be pretty close with them—unsurprising, given that in your line of work, your life rested in their hands and vice versa. But König was… different. You didn’t distrust him, per say, but outside of the battlefield, he was quiet. Reclusive. No matter how many times you’d tried to get him to open up, he barely interacted with you, despite talking to the others. You’d chalked it down to being the newest on the team at first, but now that you’d served over a year and a half together, you were frustrated. Shouldn’t that be well enough time to open up at least a little bit?

You knew your thinking was illogical. Your job was to hunt targets and invade bases, not deep dive into your coworker’s soul, but you couldn’t help the way it took over your mind. Your need to understand him had become a bit of an obsession. You constantly found yourself looking at him, trying to discern any emotion his eyes betrayed. You listened intently for any of his input in person or on comms, no matter how menial it was. You studied his body language, taken note of any habits or gestures. You’d even memorized the way he reloaded his guns.

It was…embarrassing, to say the least. But could you blame yourself? He was so tall and strong and imposing that even just standing next to him made you, a normally very confident and intimidating woman, feel small. Such was the reason that you pushed yourself extra harder whenever you were paired up with him, making sure he knew you were valuable, a force to be reckoned with. Your excellent performance had made you two quite the duo, often clearing out legions of enemies in mere minutes. And you had to admit, seeing him absolutely obliterate enemy lines made you feel some type of way…

But not like that, of course. You were just…curious. When he finally opened up to you (and not if, but when), your obsession would stop, and everything would be fine. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Today, however, there were a lot less enemies than you’d expected. Sure, there were quite a few soldiers stationed around the warehouse (which your team had incapacitated quickly), but inside, save for some scientists and the occasional guard, it was eerily empty and quiet.

“It’s fucking cold,” Horangi’s voice rang out from your radio. You sighed and brought the device to your lips.

“It’s fucking Russia,” you stated. “What did you think it’d be? Beachy?”

König’s quiet chuckle sounded from in front of you, and you couldn’t help the pride that swarmed in your heart. Heat burst in your cheeks, but you tried to brush it off.

“Fuck off,” Horangi replied. “East side clear.”

“West unknown,” you said. “Standby.” You tucked the radio back into your pocket, following your teammate.

You both peeked around the corner to the last room. It was filled to the brim with lab equipment—beakers, bunsen burners, flasks, microscopes—all sitting atop of large resin tables. Bright, fluorescent lights bounced off the sterile grey walls and ceiling, creating a dull glare that was almost depressing. Neat racks of tightly sealed vials and test tubes peeked through glass cabinets on the walls, parallel to the large sinks below. Across the room was a row of unfamiliar-looking equipment, and next to that, an enormous whiteboard boasting messily scrawled notes, diagrams, and equations. A bag of what looked like takeout sat on a nearby desk next to a crumpled napkin and a perspiring styrofoam cup. It was almost exactly what you’d imagined a stereotypical laboratory to look like, albeit a bit messier and more lived in. A singular man stood working at one of the tables, frantically scribbling on a notepad with his back facing toward you. König motioned for you to stay put as he crept forward. You complied.

Then the man dropped his pen.

“Xyй,” he cursed and turned around to pick it up. Of course, when he turned around, he saw König’s gigantic form pointing a gun at him, and he screamed. You fired your suppressed pistol, but not before the scientist hurled a glass vial at König. It shattered against his tactical vest as the dead scientist crumpled to the ground, releasing a burst of lavender-colored smoke that curled into the air and quickly dissipated.

König ripped off his tactical vest, coughing violently, but it was too late—the substance had already entered his lungs, likely reaching his bloodstream by now. He stared at you, blue eyes wide with—for the first time you’d ever seen—fear.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, and he staggered to the wall, crashing down to the floor.

“König?” You stared at him, stricken. His eyes were closed, and he was stock still—stiller than you’d ever seen him—and for a long, hard moment, you thought he might be dead.

Then his eyes snapped open. His pupils were dilated and blown, a sea of black barely tinged by blue irises. He stared at you, unmoving, before letting out a groan and bringing his hand over his face.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered. You grabbed your radio. “M-man down!” you stammered into it. “König’s been exposed. West side clear. Requesting med evac in thirty minutes. Going dark.” You turned it off, not bothering to listen to any input. The rest of your team knew what this meant. As did you.

In the time you’d been on the radio, König had torn off all of his other gear, leaving himself in just his shirt, pants, and boots. He was panting, his chest heaving with each breath, ungloved hand still hiding his masked face as he cursed in German.

You crossed the room in seconds and kneeled at his side. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, König, just breathe—”

“No,” he breathed. His voice was deeper, raspier than normal, and the unbridled heat in it sent a shiver down your spine. His hands were clenched into fists, body tensed as he fought the invisible infection. “Go. Now.”

“You know I can’t leave—”

His hand fell to his side, letting his eyes meeting yours for a split second. “Please,” he groaned, starting to tremble as you drew closer. “I—I can’t—”

His gaze strayed lower, and you followed it to the growing bulge in his pants. You gulped, unmoving, and he grabbed your arm. The force of it was enough to make you still.

“Go,” he insisted, his accent even thicker than usual. “I’m not—I cannot control myself.”

“I’m not gonna leave you here!” you argued, swatting his hand away. “You’re my teammate. You could die.”

“I will hurt you,” he retorted. All the muscles in his body were tensed, clearly on overdrive. Even his eyes were watering. “Please, maus. I am not gentle.”

Something inside about his statement made your thighs clench together, but you tried to ignore it. Tentatively, you brought your hand to his chin, pulling his face towards you. His skin was feverish, and your heart twisted in sympathy. “Let me help you,” you pleaded, and he inhaled sharply.

“It feels like I’m burning,” he hissed, and you frowned. His black compression shirt was nearly soaked with sweat, and you grabbed the fabric, pulling it up. He pawed at your arm weakly, but you shushed him.

“You’re overheating. Take it off,” you ordered, and finally, he let you pull it over his head, sagging back against the wall as you threw it to the side.

You’d seen him without a shirt before—it was hard not to with this kind of job, what with donning injuries all the time—but this was different. His head was thrown back as he panted, toned chest heaving with each breath, and you could see all of the muscles in his chiseled abdomen clenched, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. It was… erotic. Just looking at him made you feel dirty. You felt the thrum of something other than worry in your abdomen, and you swallowed.

“Leave me,” König growled, but it sounded more desperate than commanding. You shook your head at him.

“Not letting you die, König.” You began to rip off your gear, tugging off your tactical vest and discarding your weapons.

König grabbed your wrist. “What are you…?”

“Wanna help you, okay?” you said softly, trying to catch his eyes as they darted over your face. “Are you gonna let me?”

He took in a deep breath, his other hand in a death grip on his thigh. “I-I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeated, but it was starting to lose its original harshness. He was fading, and fast.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. You placed your hand on his bare chest, feeling the way his heartbeat stuttered and stammered under your touch. He cursed in response, the hand on your wrist twitching, clearly fighting the urge to touch you. In a split-second decision, you swung your right leg over his lap and straddled him, careful not to grind against him, waiting for an answer first. He let out a choked noise and grabbed you by the hips, his tight grip making you gasp. “Yes or no?” you breathed.

“Ahhh, maus.” The low groan he let out was nearly animalistic. “Yes,” he begged, and that was all you needed to hear.

You started grinding on his lap gently, trying to restrain yourself from going further. You wanted to be mindful of his sensitivity, but König simply huffed in annoyance and used his tight grip on your hips to tug you all the way down into his lap—allowing you to feel everything. The imprint of his hard, throbbing cock made you dizzy; you couldn’t resist pressing against it, moaning softly at the delicious friction it granted your clit.

“Scheiße,” König murmured, his thighs twitching underneath you. You felt bad, knowing he was probably dying for some real contact, so you decided to give it to him.

Your heart raced as you reached for his waistband, unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants to his knees. His cock was straining against his briefs, a wet patch forming from precum, and you quickly removed those as well, watching his hardened cock spring up and then fall slightly, its weight making it unable to reach his stomach. Your mouth went dry. Fuck, he was huge. You supposed it made sense: as an exceptionally large man, it was logical to have a proportionally large cock, but the sight of it still shocked you.

“Maus,” he whispered, breaking you out of your trance. He stared at you apprehensively, and you wrapped your much smaller hands around his cock, hearing him suck in a breath. You took a moment to marvel at the sheer size of him—your normally average-sized fingers looked miniature in contrast, unable to even fully wrap around his length. You felt your own arousal seep into your underwear, and you leaned down to kiss his tip.

The moan he let out turned you on even more than before, and you wasted no time teasing him, spitting into your hand and pumping his cock a few times before bringing the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the slit before pushing him further down your throat. His cock was so large that you had to fight not to scrape your teeth against it, flattening your tongue under the base of it.

His hand fisted into your hair, pulling slightly every time you moved your lips up and down his shaft, twisting your hand in tandem. Your other hand gripped onto one of his thick thighs, feeling his leg twitch as he struggled not to buck his hips up into your mouth. Each strained noise and curse you coaxed from him only encouraged you more, your own whimpers muffled against his cock as you did your best to fit him down your throat.

After only a few minutes, you felt him twitching in your hand and sped up your pace, determined to pleasure him as much as possible. Curses fell from his lips as he finished, hot spurts of his release shooting down your throat. You swallowed it quickly, continuing to pump your hand up and down his still rock-hard shaft.

König, however, pulled you off quickly, eyes wide and dark with an almost fearful desperation as he stared at you. “The poison. It’s still…”

You looked back down to see his cock still twitching in your hand. “It’s okay,” you said, starting to lean back down, “I’ll just—”

“No!” He pulled you back up by the neck. You blinked at him in shock, and he stared back, pupils blown wide like black moons. There was a fiery hunger in his eyes as he looked at you, one you’d never seen before. The sheer want in his gaze sent a cold shiver down your spine. No one had ever looked at you like this before—like you were prey.

“König?” you asked nervously.

Instead of answering, he began to unbuckle your belt, and you gasped as his hand reached under your waistband to cup your clothed core, index finger tracing lightly over your clit. You fought back a mewl, chest seizing as you shut your eyes from the pleasure.

“So wet,” he marveled. He pushed your underwear to the side, smearing your arousal over your soaked folds as you whimpered, bucking your hips into his hand. “Just from sucking my cock?”

His switch in demeanor startled you, and you moaned as one of his large fingers pressed into your weeping hole, curling inside you with precision. His hands were so much bigger than yours; the stretch was making your knees weak. He quickly found your G-spot, taking care to press against it as you arched into him. “Oh, oh, fuck, König,” you whimpered, coaxing a dark chuckle from him that made you clench around him.

Your thighs clenched around his hand, but he pried them apart with ease, forcing you to straddle him and rendering you helpless to his ministrations as he slowly dragged another finger in and out of you. With each achingly slow push into your dripping hole, he made sure to curl them just right, long fingers able to reach that sensitive spongy spot inside you effortlessly. His palm laid flat against your clit as he stroked your walls, letting you sloppily grind into his hand as he murmured praise into your ear.

“Does that feel good, liebling?” he asked, drinking in each of your breathy, pleasured noises with satisfaction. “You like making a mess on my fingers, mm?”

You simply whimpered, too embarrassed of your flustered state to form a real response. He seemed to pick up the hint, giving you a cocky smirk through his mask. “Ohh, it’s okay, maus,” he cooed, but his soft words were laced with a smug condescension that made your cheeks burn. “You look so pretty like this, all dumb on my fingers. I wish I could’ve seen it earlier.”

You whined again, desperately grinding down on his palm for more friction. His slow pace was torturous, giving you just enough to feel pleasure but not enough to build it. It was mean. It was twisted. It was agonizing. You were eating it up.

“Please,” you tried, teary eyes boring into his. “Can you—can you please—”

“Can I what, maus?” He cocked his head, darkened eyes twinkling with mirth. “Tell me, or I can’t help you.”

You know what I want, you wanted to shout at him, but you knew that wouldn’t work. “Please,” you begged, “I need more."

“What more do you need, maus?” he asked again. “You have a mouth. Use it.”

“Need you to—” You whimpered pitifully, dropping your head into his shoulder. “Please, need you to go—go harder.” You nearly sobbed out the words, desperation winning out over your embarrassment. You were mortified at your teary, shaking voice, but he seemed to revel in it, squeezing your thigh in appreciation.

“Oh, is that what you wanted?” he teased, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “You could have just said so.”

He set a steady pace with his fingers, bullying them inside of you hard enough to make you squirm against him. With each thrust, he curled them just right, sending your eyes rolling back and mouth falling open in heavy pants as you mewled into his shoulder. You were grateful to be spared of his intense gaze; you didn’t think you could look at him in the state you were in. It was mortifying just hearing the sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your gushing cunt.

“Oh, maus,” he cooed into your ear as you trembled, keening at the stretch of his fingers. “You’re just so beautiful like this, you know. So fucking desperate and pathetic. I wish I could see you like this all the time.”

Would I like him to finger me like this all the time? Hell yes, you thought to yourself, but you couldn’t find the words to tell him, only able to whine and nod vigorously into his shoulder, lost in the feeling of his fingers inside you. You could feel yourself starting to reach the edge of your climax, grinding harder and harder into his palm and gasping with each spark of pleasure it gave your throbbing clit. You were so wet that you were starting to wonder if you’d been infected, too; each time he hit your g-spot just right, you felt more and more slick dribbling out of you and down your thighs. It was driving you insane.

“K-König!” You managed a cry of his name right before you came, clenching around his fingers as you bucked your hips into his hand. Breathy whines fell from your lips, your thighs shaking and seizing as you squirmed in his hold, feeling an almost overwhelming wave of pleasure wash over your body. The feeling was so intense it was almost painful; you hadn’t had an orgasm in so long, and the effect was palpable. His arms held you tight, keeping you grounded while you shuddered in his grasp, his big fingers determined to prolong your ecstasy.

When you finally came down from your high, you couldn’t look at him, mortified at your messy state. His fingers were still knuckle-deep in your arousal, and you could feel more of your slick dripping down your thighs, wet and uncomfortable. You kept your head buried in his chest shyly while your happy cunt stayed spasming in his hand.

“Okay, schatz?” he asked softly, using his free hand to tilt your head towards him. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You stared up at him, mouth open. There were practically hearts in your eyes; your adoration was clear to him, and he laughed at your expression, cradling your cheek with his hand. “Aww, schatz.” He clicked his tongue, a smile audible in his voice. “You’re so sweet.”

Your cheeks burned red at the words, and you blinked rapidly, unable to look away. His piercing blue eyes stayed trained on yours, but there was a warmth in them that soothed you. He petted your cheek, lifting his hood to press a kiss to your forehead.

Your mind felt fuzzy. All you could think about was your need to be filled by him, and you pawed at his hard cock, wrapping your fingers around the base of it. A hiss of pleasure escaped him, and you kept your eyes on his, wide and pleading. “Please fuck me,” you whispered, still trembling in his grasp.

König’s eyes darkened, and he tugged off the rest of your bottoms quickly. His strong hands lifted you to hover you over his cock, and you shuddered with anticipation, head spinning. He rubbed the tip through your dripping folds, coaxing out a gasp as it brushed over your swollen clit. You tried to push him inside, squirming, but his tight grip on the bottoms of your thighs kept you in place, and you whined his name, hoping he would take pity on you.

“Bitte, König,” you begged, and he practically growled at the words, mercifully allowing you to sink onto the tip of his cock and drawing out a desperate mewl. Even with how wet you were, he was so, so big that he was practically tearing you in half.

“K-König—”

“Hush, liebling,” he soothed, and you moaned as your core clenched around him, beacons of pleasure ripping through you from just the feel of him. He waited for you to relax and then pushed in farther as you gasped at his length.

“Mmph! König—” You keened as he continued to push himself into you, waiting each time to make sure you were okay. You could feel his hard cock twitch with each thrust, and you knew it must be difficult for him not to go straight into fucking you, that he was holding himself back to be more gentle. The thought only made you moan louder.

Tears slipped down your cheeks when he finally bottomed out, and he wiped them away with his thumb. “I’m sorry, maus,” he groaned, no doubt feeling the way you clenched around him. “You’re just—so tight—”

You wanted to tell him to it was okay, but from your already fucked out mind, all that came out was a dumb whimper of his name. In response, he pulled up his sniper hood to kiss your forehead, to which you whined and chased his lips with your mouth. This made him chuckle, and he guided your lips to his, coaxing out a soft moan as his tongue met yours. He tasted wonderful, and you mewled into his mouth, feeling even more worked up from the way he kissed you: hot and desperate and sweet, like the world was ending and you were the last ones in it.

“Mein maus,” he growled, suddenly thrusting up into you and making your eyes roll back. His hips snapped against yours, setting a pace that sent your thoughts reeling. “Taking me so well, doing so good for me, hm? Du bist mein schatz, ja?”

“Yes, fuck—yes,” you babbled, barely able to understand what he was saying. His unusually rough tone was fogging up your dumbed-out mind, the contrast between his sweet words and punishing pace reducing you to nothing but a crying, creaming mess. You’d never been this wet for someone before. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m yours, please—”

“Good girl,” he moaned, pushing you up and down his cock with dizzying strength. Your legs tightened around his waist as he thrust up into you, high-pitched and pitiful noises falling from your lips at a shameful volume. He was using you like a toy, you thought, and the notion of it made your pleasured cries even louder.

“Mmm, yeah? Mmm?” He mimicked your breathy moans, and you could hear the grin in his voice. Normally, you’d be mortified, likely retorting with some witty insult, but now? Now with the way he was fucking you, all you could do was whine in pitiful response.

“So needy for me,” he groaned, punctuating each word with a deep thrust. The sheer force of him made your eyes roll back, and you felt that tight coil in your belly close to snapping.

“Fuck, König—” You panted heavily, your legs starting to give out. “K-König, oh my God, I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he cooed, pulling you closer to his chest so your clit could find purchase on his toned abs. “Doing so good for me, schatz. Such a good girl, getting off on me like this. Like the way I feel, mm?”

His sweet praise became your tipping point, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. You cried his name, mouth falling open in shock as your legs kicked out, your cunt weeping and convulsing around him as you keened. You gasped for air as your orgasm rocked through you, the pleasure suddenly becoming all too much as he continued to drill himself into your gushing cunt.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed from the overstimulation, but he didn’t let up his pace, pressing chaste kisses to your lips to soothe you. “Wonder how many orgasms I can get from you,” he murmured. You could hear the smile in his voice as he panted. “How many more, mein schatz?”

“I—I don’t know!” you cried as his pelvis dragged against your clit, sending shocks of electricity through you. “I don’t—I can’t—”

He groaned as you trembled in his hold, pretty blue eyes boring into yours. “You can do it for me,” he replied. “I know you can. Isn’t that right, liebling?”

“Ahh—König—” The juxtaposition of his soft kisses and brutal pace was making your head spin. Too overwhelmed to answer, you just clutched onto his shoulders tighter, crying out every time his skin brushed against your puffy, overstimulated clit. It was painful. It was overwhelming. It felt so fucking good.

“Hush, mein schatz,” he coaxed, holding you closer as you clenched around his cock, babbling incoherently as he fucked up into you. “You’re doing so good, I promise.”

The answer was two. Two more earth-shattering orgasms before he finally went soft, coming inside of you twice before either (1), his dick just gave out, or (2), the poison wore off. Either way, by the end of it, you were exhausted and fucked out, still recovering from your cock-drunk state as he cleaned you up.

“I’m sorry, maus,” he apologized, sounding genuinely remorseful as he gently wiped your soaked thighs with a clean cloth he had found in the room. “I’m so sorry, I don’t—I don’t know what came over me.”

“Drugs,” you supplied, staring at the ceiling in exhaustion. “Really bad drugs.”

“Yes, drugs,” he agreed, carefully mopping your folds as you sighed. “But still—I am sorry. I was…overzealous. I hope I did not hurt you too bad.”

“I’ll be a little sore,” you admitted, glancing at the bruises his fingers had left on your waist and hips. “But I’ll be fine, trust me.”

He sighed, somehow managing to look resigned even with the sniper hood. “I should not have been so hard on you. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly?” you murmured, blinking at him sleepily. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

He froze for a moment. “What?”

“Not that I’ve had a lot of sex,” you said quickly. “But still, that was the best I’ve ever had. Probably will ever have, now that I think about it. You must be very experienced. Oh God, I should not have said that out loud. I am—I am so sorry.”

Even with his sniper hood on, you could tell he was blushing. “Oh, um—it’s okay, maus.” You could hear the shyness in his voice. “I do not consider that to be my best performance, but I will take it as a compliment.”

“Your best performance?” You stared at him, mind running through everything that had just happened. You’d had sex before, but that—that was a whole ass experience. You’d never even dreamed about anything that good. “Christ, what’s your best performance, then?”

“Well,” he replied, sliding your soaked underwear back up your legs for you, “I would have taken you out on a date first, at the very least. That would be the proper way to court you.”

“Court me?” you repeated, sitting up straight. “I didn’t know you were so well-mannered, König.”

He looked away from you, shifting awkwardly from his spot on the floor. “I try to be courteous before sticking my dick in people.”

It took you a moment to realize he was joking, and you laughed—actually really laughed out loud. His awkward humor was charming you, and you felt warmth swell in your chest as you listened to him speak. You grinned at him, his eyes crinkling in a smile back.

König still smiled, but a hint of sadness pervaded his gaze. “Ah, schatz.” He hesitated. “I would have liked to make love to you,” he sighed, “but I did not imagine these would be the circumstances. I was hoping to take you on a date first, get to know you better.”

“You wanted to what?” Your eyes widened, and you blinked in confusion. “But…I thought you didn’t like me.”

König practically jolted in place. It was like you’d electrocuted him. He stared at you. “Why would you ever think that?”

“You talk to everyone but me,” you said softly. “I thought you didn’t trust me. Thought you hated me.”

“Hated—?” He shook his head vigorously. “No, I wanted to speak to you. You just…made me nervous. The others do not.”

“I made you nervous?” The words fell from your lips with shock, your eyebrows furrowing. “How would I—how did I ever make you nervous? You’re like three times the size of me!”

König shrugged, sheepish. “You’re very pretty. And you seemed…kind, and well-connected with the others. I have trouble finding that connection. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing to you and fuck it up.”

“So you said nothing at all.” You were quiet for a moment, turning over the information in your mind. “Wow. I was way off.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “but it is okay. I’m sorry for making you think I disliked you, schatz.”

“It’s okay,” you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. You ran a hand through your hair, beyond shocked at everything happening. You couldn’t believe you’d fucked your colleague, the one you’d had a crush on for who knows long, and also discovered that he didn’t, in fact, hate you. “At least I know now.”

“Next time, I will be better,” König vowed, helping you tug on your pants. “More gentle. I will do things right, I promise.”

“Next time?” You hesitated, biting your lip. “There will be a next time?”

“Of course there will,” he answered, adjusting his tactical gloves. “Did you not hear what I said earlier?”

“Um…which one?” He’d said a lot of things earlier.

He helped you to your feet, towering over you as he cupped his large hand under your jaw. Your heart stopped in your chest as you looked up into his eyes, his large frame dwarfing yours beyond comparison. “Du bist mein schatz, ja?” he repeated, gloved thumb tracing over your bottom lip. His very soul seemed to ooze confidence. “That’s what I said, no?’

With the way he was making you feel right now, you didn’t think it was even possible to say the word no. “Y-yes,” you stammered, adoration clear in your eyes as you gazed up at him.

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “So there will be a next time. Unless, of course, you don’t want to.”

“N-no, no, no, I definitely want!” you said quickly. You stumbled over your words in your eagerness, and your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “I would like that a lot.”

“Good,” he said, patting the top of your head. Normally, you’d be furious at such an action, but considering his height, it seemed more practical than condescending. “Now come, schatz,” he said, adjusting his vest. “Time to deny everything to the rest of the team.”

Oh, fuck. You sighed. “Yeah…I forgot about that.”

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sweet-as-an-angel · 6 months

Text

MW2 Reaction To You Panty-Flashing Them

Warnings: Implied Smut, Mean! MW2, Dominant! MW2, Victim/Reader Blaming, Slut-Shaming, Reader Getting Pimped Out, Mention of a Leash, Allusions to Injury, Mentions of Blood, Petnames, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Ghost

Ghost is a territorial man. So seeing you flash not only him but Johnny as well made something in him simmer.

It wasn’t rage, for this little accident, regardless of how intentional it was, was not your fault. If he had to place it, he’d attribute it to…

Lust.

As was evident in how he excused himself from the gathering of the 141 and Los Vaqueros in your living room, grabbing you by your arm.

He stowed you away. Dragged you to a desolate laundry room and gripped you by your thighs. You gasped, gripped onto him. Felt something hard rub against you.

Ghost threw you atop the washing machine and gave you a harsh stare as he watched you try to fight the feeling building within from the machine’s buzzing and shuffling.

“Go on then, Doll,” he rasps, eyes hard and the throbbing monster between his legs harder. He palmed himself. Remorse was not in his nature. And neither was mercy.

“Seein’ as you were practically beggin’ the others to fuck you, go and put on a show.”

His voice lowered. He stood between your legs, frame blocking you from any form of help or salvation.

“Just for me.”

König

König had been sat on your sofa, an action figure in a house for a doll half his size, and you’d bent over to retrieve something from beneath the TV cabinet.

The fact that you were wearing a pair of König’s shorts was already clouding his moral compass. Seeing your underwear peeking out beneath them was what sent him over the edge.

As you remained bent, cheek pressed to the floor as you reached for what you’d lost, you didn’t hear König approach. Didn’t know he’d even moved from the sofa until something thick and hard was pressed to the back of you, followed by two heavy hands holding you at the waist, and a slow, shuttering breath.

“Don’t move,” König told you. “Stay like this.”

Slowly, he pressed deeper into you. You could feel his restraint unwinding second by second.

It was when he bent over you, had his broad chest pressed to your back, that you knew you weren’t escaping. And you weren’t backing down.

“I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you cum, bleed or pass out.” König’s voice held no humour, but you could feel the franticity building in it.

He reached round, gripped your chin. Made you look at him. His smile was sharp, his features dark.

“Whichever comes first.”

Soap

Johnny pulled the leash tighter around your throat when you tried to protest your innocence. Tried to make him see reason.

“Doesn’t matter that it was ‘just an accident’.” He mimicked you, made you sound weak, whiny. His eyes hardened and his jaw clenched. His knuckles turned white around the leash.

His shadow loomed over you from your position on the bed, on your hands and knees while Johnny presided over you with an iron fist.

Tears obscured his silhouette. Made your eyes glassy.

“Aww, Did I upset you, Bonnie?” Johnny’s tone held a gruffness that didn’t even try to hide the anger running beneath.

He huffed, a mocking laugh.

“How’d’ya think I felt when you were practically spreading your legs for Simon?”

Again, you tried to tell him what really happened. Tried to incur any fragment of mercy Soap would spare you.

He pulled on the leash again. Tighter. You gasped, hands flying up to the leather around your neck, trying to loosen it – to plead for Johnny’s favour – as the air was knocked out of you.

“Oh no, you don’t get to talk.” He said. He stepped to you. The bulge in his jeans became ever more noticeable. Impending.

“M’gonna use you like the whore you are ‘til my cum’s leaking out of every hole in your body.”

Valeria

“Do I look like I fucking care, Darling?” Valeria circled you, her belt wrapped around her hand, a glint of darkness in her eye.

Wrists and ankles duct-taped to the chair, you could do little to follow her. To understand her intentions.

“Do you really think whatever little lie you pass off as an excuse can quell the fire you’ve set?”

Before you could attest your innocence, beg for forgiveness, Valeria’s belt came down across your thighs. Crying out, you flinched, tried to withdraw, pushing your chair back in the process.

Valeria lunged forward and gripped the chair by the arms, pressing your skin into the wood, and dragged you back.

Her face twisted into a visceral snarl, the portrait of evil.

“Please, Valeria, I’m begging you–”

“Oh, you’ll beg for me, alright.” Valeria looked down at you, her face to yours. Just shy of your noses touching. With bared teeth, she smiled.

“I won’t stop until you do.”

Price

“If you wanted attention that badly, you could’ve just asked.”

Price had your arms and legs bound to a hard, wooden chair while a thick ream of cloth had your mouth gagged. He stood over you, arms crossed over his front, a glint in his eye. He sighed, brought his hands to grip your tied forearms. Pressed them into the armrests.

You winced.

“What…possessed you to go and show your arse to Alejandro and the rest of the team?” His voice reflected a tone of ponderment found only in Sarcasm’s extended family tree. And it showed with the faux confusion written in his brow.

“Do I just not cut it for you?” He leaned in. The chair creaked. Your arms hurt. He didn’t let up.

“Am I not enough to keep you from throwing yourself at the nearest soldier?”

He watched you, his stare narrow. You shook your head, eyes wide. You tried speaking through the gag, tried to tell him that he was the only man you loved, but you both knew your efforts were futile.

He withdrew, gripped his belt, adopted his default stance. He heaved a deep breath.

“Come in, lads,” he called behind him, not taking his gaze off you. Your stomach tightened.

A thin smile stretched across Price's lips as he watched your eyes widen, your gaze following Simon, Soap, Gaz, Rudy and Alejandro as they filtered into the room.

Price bowed at the waist, lowered his voice so only you could hear.

“Seeing as you’re so keen to show ‘em what’s under your clothes, I’m gonna let them use you ‘til you’ve learnt your lesson.”

Horangi

Hong-Jin popped the top button of his jeans, keeping his gaze trained on you, spearing you with a dark stare.

“Did you enjoy giving König and I a little show, Dear?”

Sarcasm nestled in his tone, a viper in a den. But the excitement running parallel beneath it, just shy of its transparent underbelly, was evident.

Hong-Jin slid the zip of his jeans down. Pulled the denim over his hips.

“It’s only fair that I…” He took your hand, placed it at the hem of his underwear. Dipped beneath the band.

His skin was scorching. Something pulsated beneath your fingers.

The implication sat heavy in his tone. In his eyes.

“Return the favour.”

Alejandro

“I didn’t know I was dating such an attention-seeking whore.”

Alejandro’s voice was the roll of thunder across a darkened valley, the weight of a downpour of knives settled into his tone.

Hands behind his back, he stood over you, having resigned you to sitting on your knees, the hardwood floor pushing against your joints.

“Luckily for you, I’m not the type to hold grudges.” A smile played at his lips. One you knew not to trust.

“But he is.”

Alejandro looked to the door, where, from beyond its frame, emerged Rudy. His face held a similar, serpentine pallor, his lips drawn up into a thin smile. Venom in his veins.

“Wasn’t expecting to get blue-balled by (Y/N) earlier, Ale,” came Rudy, his usually sugared demeanour having dropped, the veil between what he was and what he showed to the world slipping away. Retreating.

Alejandro gave him a knowing look. He turned back to you.

“Why don’t you be a good little doll and put your face to the floor. Just like we practised.”

The memory of leashes, lashings and tears flooded your memory. You held back a wanton whimper.

Alejandro’s voice dropped. “And let Rudy see the rest of what you promised him.”

Rodolfo

“I don’t want to have to do this, Cariño. Rudy stood over you, his hands on your shoulders and his face dark. Grim.

His hold on your shoulders tightened.

“But I can’t let your behaviour go…”

He searched your eyes for the right word. His brow furrowed when he found it.

“Unchecked.”

He sighed. Pushed down on your shoulders.

“Come on, Angel. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He told you, pushing harder until you bent to his will.

Now, on your knees, you could see how desperately he needed you.

One hand came to your jaw, thumb trailing to your lip, pulling your mouth open. The other slid down to his belt, sliding it from the buckle. It hissed, pulled tight against the metal. You swallowed.

Rudy’s breath shuttered, and you could tell from the way his hand clenched, the way he slipped the belt from his jeans like a snake, that he was enjoying this. Much more than he wanted to let on.

“Now remember, mi Amor, no teeth, no biting.” His head tilted. Condescending. “Or I’ll bite you back.”

Graves

He can barely contain himself.

It was only the briefest of flashes. It wasn’t even intentional. But something about your shy smile after the fact once you realised what you’d done sent a vicious little idea to Graves’s head.

He starts stealing all your underwear. Gradually, yet in large enough volumes that he doesn’t have to wait longer than he can handle without his reward.

One day, you come into his office, face warm and tugging an oversized shirt over the top of your thighs.

“Missing something, Darlin’?” Graves drawls. Your eyes narrow at him. You know he’s had something to do with your underwear’s disappearing act.

He puts his papers down, sighs, and rests the back of his head in his hands against the backrest of his chair.

“How about you flash me again. Slowly, now.” His eyes glint with a dark mischief and want.

“Y’don’t wanna know what happens if you don't do it the way I like it.”

Gaz

“Oh, Darling, look what you’ve done,” Gaz’s voice carried despite the thickening tension in the room. Neither of you needed to look down to see what he was referring to.

Despite the chastising tone in his voice, his eyes were warm. Kind, almost.

“If you wanted my attention so badly, you only had to ask.”

He stepped towards you, placing a hand under your jaw. He smiled.

“It’s only fair that I reward you for being so creative, isn’t it ?”

His other hand came to your shoulder, pushing the strap of your tank top until it fell, leaving the sweeping juncture between your neck and shoulder exposed.

Has bit back a shuttering breath.

Despite his gentile voice, an angeline choir, the soundtrack of mercy, there lay a hunger in his eyes, in his barely-restrained grip, that suggested a beast lurked beneath his pretty boy exterior.

And you knew from the way he told you to “Get on the bed – be good for me,” that you’d be seeing it tonight.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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gremlingottoosilly · 6 months

Text

What lies within (Tentacle!Monster!Konig x fem!Reader)

It's mating season for monster hybrids. Unfortunately for you, the colonel didn't have time to dump his eggs everywhere. TW and tags: Non-con, size difference, oviposition, monster hybrids, forced breeding, belly bulging, yandere Konig, possessive Konig, tentacles, double penetration. Word count: 3278

The brave new world of opportunities for monsters.

The illustrious life for those who are not afraid of being a hunter in the billion flocks of weak, stupid prey.

There are endless possibilities for the ones who decide to serve in the various armed forces specifically tailored to monsters.

And loads of other bullshit that König had to endure every day on the briefs. Propaganda, advertisement, and weak attempts to make a new generation of monster hybrids abandon their old ways and join either army or contracting forces, making them glorified mercenaries. Jaided and disillusioned, the colonel long abandoned the thoughts that service can be fun, that it can bring him something other than money and occasional bullets in various places.

“Most inclusive workplaces for monsters,” his ass. They were fed bullshit on top of other bullshit, and he is already tired of war – but there isn’t much he can do besides it. The payment is nice, he gets to eat his enemies and tears through entire units of squishy, weak humans who make perfect snacks from their useless fucking bodies.

— So. Abandoned by your team, ja?

Unfortunately for him, sometimes war operations meant that he was not supposed to eat prisoners – he was supposed to take them, hoard them into rounds, and send them for either ransom or whatever higher-ups wanted to do with them. Sometimes, it’s torture for information, sometimes, it’s attempts to bring them to their side if they are worth it.

Sometimes, he just looked in the eyes of a soft, squishy little prey and just couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger.

Well…” sometimes” is a very big word. He had never once thought about keeping the POW for himself before he met this stupidly beautiful, soft nurse with a perfect face, nice pair of legs in that ugly baggy uniform, and the most beautiful scent in the entire…

He never thought of keeping the prisoner for himself before he met you.

It was supposed to be an easy mission for you – he can see it from your lack of normal armor. Either you had no idea that KorTac had their own plans for whatever you wanted to do here, or your contractor is extremely cheap. He likes either way – you smell like a human, and he likes dumb humans who would make perfect victims. You smell and look weak, trembling, perfect fucking pray for someone like him. König didn’t feel the need to transform for this battle. Your team ran away like a bunch of bunnies before he ever fired his first shot, but he could still feel his tentacles slowly stir under his hood. He can feel his body transforming without the need to – and he feels the pressure in his lower stomach.

When was the last time he was able to put his eggs somewhere other that cold, unforgiving air?

Even the bagginess of your uniform doesn’t obscure him from looking at the sway of your hips, at the perfect surface of your tummy, and feeling the smell of your ripe, fertile body. Having a strong sense of smell always came like a curse in the team of monsters where showering after a mission isn’t something that is done by many, buy König can appreciate his nose now – he can smell how perfect you are for breeding. How scared, too.

Poor thing, probably terrified of his. König knows how he looks, even in his human form – tall, broad, bigger than any man you saw before, so much more muscular that even with your military training as a combat nurse, he could still break your spine with one hand. His size is something that made it impossible to find a partner normal ways – monsters are naturally too dominant to ever submit to him, and humans are simply too scared to deal with someone like him. He isn’t surprised, no – if anything, he understands completely.

You sob, your voice is melting with incomprehensible pleas and little whines. You are shaking under him – a poor, dumb girl who wasn’t aware that her best shot at surviving was to try and shoot his crotch off before he pulled a gun out of your hands.

— Pl…please, you can’t…you can’t do this! It’s a crime, I was on medical duty, it’s…

König likes humans because they are dumb. Civilian humans are even cuter – run around, thinking their lives are protected by sets of laws and rules that, in fact, don’t apply to the strong – and you, in your full half-military half-civvie glory, are fucking perfect. You whine and sib, tears running down your face when he presses you under him. Your hand hits the hard rocks of the ground, and he shifts slightly, dragging you closer to a softer patch of grass.

He laughs when you are trying to scramble from under him, your lower half is pinned by his weight – he is surprised you can still move. You move your pelvis, trying to get out – and he moans quietly when you start rubbing your crotch against his. You freeze, fear spreading on your face – god, he missed that feeling. When was the last time he got to actually breed someone? Or even just have sex with someone as cute?

— You really think so, Schatzen? That rules will protect you?

He moves his crotch against yours, making you sob a bit more. You’re sweet and compliant, and he just loves breaking soft things like you – it’s a desire to break, to destroy, to make you his. He knows that, technically, forcing himself on women from enemy lines really is a war crime. He also knows that if he’d managed to breed you with his eggs, monster laws would never allow you to separate after mating.

Besides, it's not like he is going to let you go, so you could tell on him. König never believed in love at first sight, but you would be a perfect vessel for his eggs and his tentacles – what else would he need from a wife, right?

— You’re pretty.

He says plainly, his hand goes to rub your chest through the fabric of your uniform. You won’t need those ugly clothes anymore – he’d make sure to buy you something nice and frail that won’t make you too uncomfortable to carry his eggs. Maybe a soft, frail dress or some of those cute maternity clothes when your body starts to change. He can’t wait to see his breasts swelling with milk – even if his unfertilized eggs won’t need it, he certainly would. Even if you’re too weak to handle his load, he’d make sure to get you a nice, firm plug and keep you on his tentacles constantly.

You start to sob even more when you understand what he is trying to do – when he rips your pants to reveal the softness of your cunt and the fragility of your [anties, you actually manage to push your legs against his dick a good few times. He is too aroused to notice – if anything, he likes how fiery you are, your little yells and loud screams for help. No one will come to aid you – he barked the orders for his soldiers to go and fuck around somewhere else while he was busy devouring his little prize. Colonel doesn’t like having an audience – if anything, he is saving your dignity right now. If anything, he is remarkably soft when he pushes one of his long, red tendrils down your body, massaging your pussy through your panties.

You’re moist already when his tentacle finds a way to your labia. What a slutty nurse you are – getting off the enemy colonel breeding you in the middle of the battlefield. Your tears mean nothing when he is too busy massaging and pressing and playing with your sticky, puffy folds – poor girl, so deprived of attention that even the weird texture of his extensions only fuels your desire.

So fragile, so perfect – and so, so wet that your adorable white panties are already become transparent, sticking to your soft pussy. When he takes you home, he’d make sure to forbid you from wearing any underwear at all – you would meet him dressing in nothing but his shirts, a hand on your tummy to support the weight of your eggs. Walls of your pussy clenching on the plug he’d make to insert in you every morning.

— Don’t…please, don’t, n…

You whine ever so sweetly, trying to close your legs so he won’t be able to touch you. It’s futile, just one of his tendrils is ten times stronger than your hands. He gets through your closed legs, buried in the moistness of your sweet, perfect pussy. You taste heavenly – just one minute enough to make him hungrier than before. König’s mating season was often postponed due to constant adrenaline rushes and things he takes to enhance his battle abilities – but he can feel eggs pressing at the inside of his body now, preparing to be released in the sweet heat of your body. But he has to prepare you first.

— Quiet now. It won’t hurt unless you want it to.

His tendrils are coming to moisten your pussy even more – sweet numbness filling your body from the lower stomach and right to your head. Knowing that you must feel dizzy and just a tad bit dumb, König can’t wait but chuckle. He likes you empty-headed, adorable dumbness in your eyes. He knows that he doesn’t know you, that you might even already have a boyfriend on the civil side of your life – but he doesn’t care. His mind doesn’t easily fall for just anyone, but if he saw a perfect vessel in you, there is no escape. At least he is nice enough to be gentle.

You whimper slightly when he pushes the first tendril inside of you. Too impatient to use his hands or tongue to make you feel a bit more at ease – after all, you are still on the battlefield, even if your friends abandoned you to get picked up by KorTac. Too impatient to soothe you with his words, he uses one of his smaller, thinner tentacles to push your pussy walls, make you squeeze him and milk for all his worth. You are wet, but not enough to take him without crying. Hot and soft, the cold texture of his extensions contrasts with your body too much – you are shaking, he can feel slight vibrations at the soft walls of yours.

Fitting him like a glove, too perfect to exist – he just wants to take you with him, to flip you on your tummy and push all of his tentacles inside. You’re tight and warm, you make him go crazy from desire. It’s weird how a strong and mighty colonel can be so charmed by just some enemy nurse, but when you whine slightly and try to adjust your body to fit more comfortably under him, he just knows that he has to take you. That, no matter how much you are crying and praying for him to stop, you want to be used by him. Perhaps, with certain training, you would want his eggs, too.

Second tendril caught you by surprise. Just when you started to adjust to the weird, slimy feeling of something writhing inside of you, spreading your tight walls around it and clashing with the heat of your insides, a second, bigger one started to press on your clenched folds. You wanted to beg, to ask him to stop – you’re too tight for this, too small, you would never be able to take even just one of his tentacles, you were…

But his tendrils press easily, he accesses lube spreading between your legs. You are sobbing from the feeling, and he is laughing. His hand goes to rip the upper part of your clothing, revealing your midriff. Fingers pressing on your tummy, just to feel his tentacles inside – he laughs when the skin of your stomach is tensed up, revealing the outlines of his extension. God, he can’t wait to make your body swell from him. Even though the eggs are not bearing his children, he can imagine you and a bunch of little ones – you’d look much better like this than pretending to be a nurse. Honestly, what were you even trying to do on the battlefield?

— Stay still, ja?

— Too much! Please, n…no more…

— Poor thing. You’ll feel so much better after I add the third one.

He knows that he is overstepping a bit, that your body isn’t used to taking something as big as his tentacles – but König also knows that his pre-cum makes you feel dizzy warm. Acting like a natural aphrodisiac, you won't be able to resist relaxing under him. The lubricant is enough to allow his other tentacle to force himself in your ass – he isn’t going to breed that hole yet, but it doesn't mean that he can’t use it.

He groans loudly when your asshole clenches around him – he had to stretch you quite a bit, that sweet numbness of his precum isn’t making you relaxed enough to take him whole, but he is managing, one agonizing centimeter after another. At the point you’re out of breath, with your face all flushed, he already knows he fucking won – he knows that you, poor, fragile thing, isn’t going anywhere. He would say that he feels horrible about forcing you like this – but this is the start of a new, better life for you. Being the bride of a monster of his rank is a dream for any lowly human like you. Can go as far as to say you’re lucky he ever laid his eyes on you.

— Stop, please…’s too much.

— You feel good, Katzen. Relax, and you’ll be even better.

— I don’t…please, just let me go, I…

— Is this your first time with a monster?

— Yes.

— Gut. Would break you in for me.

He laughs at your whimpers, his hand goes to cradle your face in an almost soft expression. He gently presses his fingers across your skin, making you all nice and warm for him – he wants to kiss you all over, but the only thing he can do in his more monstrous form is to press one of his shorter tentacles against your lips, mocking the way normal people kiss. You sob, but he presses the tip on your mouth, passing it through your teeth – you would feel better after ingesting his pre-cum, can even clench around him so more, chasing your own pleasure.

König wants you to feel good, so he presses his hand against your face, allowing you to tremble and cry as much as you want. He wants to be nice to you, so his other hand presses on your clit, finding the tense bud and breaking the nothingness between your legs. You tremble even more when he starts to spread your folds around his fingers, both of his tentacles working to milk your holes and spread you as much as possible.

He whispers sweet nothings in your ear when both of the tendrils working on your pussy suddenly change their direction – they start to spread your walls instead of just fucking it. You feel exposed and vulnerable, he can see the pink flesh and glossiness of your cunt. It’s embarrassing for you, and he knows it – but god, you’re too fucking perfect to pass.

You don’t even manage to ask him what he is doing when you feel something much larger pressing against your pussy. The biggest of his tentacles – almost as thick as an arm, pushing inside of you. He had a purpose, a desire to do something with you that you could never understand – silly humans know nothing about his biological need to push his eggs somewhere, of course, but you’re just fucking perfect. Too perfect to pass on this opportunity.

You plead and cry when he presses further, a little bump on your tummy is obvious now, with each centimeter of his tendril pushing. When he finally bottoms inside of you, pressing directly against your cervix, you are too fucked out to even think.

It’s painful, you think. Three thick tentacles roam inside your pussy, pushing and grinding against your gummy, tight walls – and another one of his extensions in your ass, writhing and massaging your insides.

It’s pleasurable, you feel. The tentacles are uneven, cold, each little bump makes you cry out from pleasure, the overwhelming feeling is something you could never achieve with a normal dick. He cradles your face and chuckles softly when you moan and cry at the same time when he gently presses his red tendril against your soft lips, and you part them because you don’t want to resist anymore. Because you can’t resist anymore.

— So good for me. Such a good girl, liked being fucked by the enemy.

— I don’t like it! He laughs at your misery, pushing his tentacles back only to fuck you harder. He can feel the tension multiply in his stomach – he feels the movement of eggs forming from inside and pushing down the biggest one of his tendrils.

When you first feel the pressure of an egg in your pussy, you want to scream.

You scratch on his hands like a wild cat, clenching on him like crazy. If he didn’t see horror and shock on your face, he’d think you wanted him. You are tight, tighter than you were before – your pussy is closing around him, not letting him go, and he can only smile to himself when he feels every little bump sending electric shocks right into your core when you feel his eggs traveling from the start of his tendrils down, to your soft, welcoming womb.

God, you will look perfect, all swollen and helpless – he can bring you a fucking collar, maybe push you on his lap and parade you as his precious wife for everyone to see. His scent lingers on your body, no matter if you want it or not. Silly human, you try to fight him like you didn’t lose the moment you let him pin your body. So perfect, he thinks of where you were before he found you. How many partners do you have, and how well would you play the role of his little breeding machine.

He massages your tummy, with each egg taking its place in your womb. Soothes tense skin and whispers sweet promises in your ear when you cry and try to push him away. So perfect, so sweet for him – he doesn’t know the fuck he lived without you.

When the last egg takes its place, making you bulge from all the weight inside of you, he can finally calm himself down enough to bring his human form partially. When he finally retracted his tentacles from your tired, sensitive body, not forgetting to press against your clit a good few times to prolong your unwanted, exhausting orgasm, he could finally press a kiss on your lips.

You’re a mess – torn clothes, covered in cum and thick transparent slime, trembling and crying softly. You close your pussy around every one of his eggs like a good girl, and he knows you would be a perfect mating partner – but god, you need a good shower and soft mattress so he can try to fuck you again in his human form, and steal all the hugs and silly affections he wanted.

— Will you let me go?

He laughs, picking you up swiftly. So fragile in his hands, he doesn’t even want to think about letting you roam freely.

— Of course not, Schatzen. Just get used to it, ja?

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #male yandere

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bejeweledblondie · 7 months

Text

Simon “Ghost” Riley Headcannons

A/N: these are loosely inspired from real life experiences I’ve had living on a military base, these men have a on & off switch it’s crazy

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

Warnings: NSFW

• Simon first saw you while he was in the States for a training exercise, he was out at one of the local bars with some of the other soldiers he was with

• Soap had actually asked for your number first & since he was so intoxicated you turned him down

• Simon apologized for Soap & that’s how you met

• he did have a heart attack when he found out there was a bit of a age gap between you two but quickly got over it when he realized how mature you were

• it was a long distance relationship at first (from personal experience it sucks in the beginning)

• there were times when he couldn’t talk due to the risk of potentially exposing his teams location so you had to write letters every now & then

• you cried constantly whenever you saw some horrific news in the paper about what was going on overseas, the anxiety was awful

• but when he returned the reunions were euphoric

• you have a bottle of his cologne & aftershave so you can always feel close to him

• and you’d spray your perfume on the letters you sent so he couldn’t always smell the paper when he was missing you

• it took him sometime to open up to you about what had happened to him in his past, & your respected that

• when he first met your family, he was shocked by all the support he had received from them

• he asked your parents to marry you the first time he met them & showed them the ring too (ofc they said yes)

• he proposed to you in private after a nice dinner, he got choked up during the proposal

• your dad specifically was elated, he got to brag at how bad ass his son in law is

• your mom if she’s a teacher, had her entire class send cards, candy, anything they’d need in care packages Soap nearly cried when he opened the sweetest letter from a little girl (this actually happened irl my mom’s class did this & one guy got really choked up)

• Simon always would be your fiercest protector

• since he’s like an freakin tree he will guide your head with his bear paw of a hand in crowds

•he CANNOT sit with his back facing the door it stresses him out

•this man is strapped 24/7 whether that be a knife, bear spray etc. he’s ready

•he has a trauma kit in his car because “you never know”

•Simon is 1000% one of those apocalypse preppers you have freeze dried food, medicine, water, etc. he’s always on edge

• he sleeps with a damn rifle next to y’all’s bed

• you have a whole security system too

• your guy’s apartment is impeccable like you could eat off of the floor

• hell your guy’s bed has damn hospital corners

• Simon adopted a cat so you don’t feel as lonely when he’s deployed

• He’s your chonky boy & you do send plenty of photos to Simon when he’s deployed

• Gaz & Soap tease him about him living his “cat dad” life

• you start trying for a baby two years into your marriage

• Simon does fall victim to the “curse of the infantry” (which is not a negative thing btw it’s a running joke that infantry soldiers have all daughters) he makes girls

• he was deployed during your pregnancy & was worried sick he nearly missed the birth of your daughter

• that little girl is the most well protected baby in the whole world, the Task Force gifted him not just baby stuff but damn security for the nursery

• He watches your baby from his phone in the nursery on deployment, he was silently crying once when he was watching you sing a lullaby to your baby girl

•Price had to comfort him father to father

•In reality Simon has a very hard cold exterior at work for the sake of keeping his mental health for the profession he’s in but deep down he’s always held a soft spot & your relationship just brings it out

✨NSFW ✨

• there is a big size difference between you two & it drives him insane

• the first time y’all had together he didn’t want to break you in half

• when he returns from deployment y’all go at it like rabbits for multiple rounds, your poor pussy was so sore afterwards

• has a massive corruption & daddy kink

• he’s an ass man I don’t make the rules here so any position where your ass if the focal point is his favorite

• y’all have made so many sex tapes for him when he’s deployed, he has a whole folder on his phone & jerks off to them in the bathroom or the porta potty (it’s a canon event, trust me) to them

• he lets your cockwarm him constantly when you’re on the couch, when he’s working, hell y’all had even fallen asleep like that

• I know people say he has a Prince Albert piercing but alas per army regulation that is safety risk I think it’s more likely he’d use a cock ring on you

• during a military ball you two snuck off & fucked in a supply closet

• he couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel room after seeing you in your gown, it was red his favorite color

• and he just looked so fucking good in his dress uniform, that was the night you totally conceived your baby girl

• he groans into your ear when he cums & he’ll use his body to just eclipse yours

• “one more baby girl” & “c’mon pretty girl use your words tell me what you want”

• is a sucker for babydoll lingerie it brings your innocence & triggers his corruption kink

• moral of the story Simon Riley fucks

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lokisgoodgirl · 26 days

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Teenage Dream [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: A trip to Asgard means a visit to Loki's childhood bedroom - and his teenage fantasy. (w/c 1.9k) Warnings: 18+ only. Loki x Female Reader. Established relationship. Smut. Body fluids etc etc. Language.

“This is your childhood bedroom?!” Loki’s arms spread wider, turning in a lazy circle as you gape at the high ceilings and golden cornicing. Open archways lead to a balcony which runs along the full side of one wall, Asgard sprawling below in afternoon sunlight. It’s huge.

“What did you expect?” Loki shoots a lovingly indignant look over his shoulder. “Some kind of hovel-sized quarter the kind of which Stark has bestowed on Lang?”

His boots thud in quick succession on polished marble before he jumps through the air and lands on the modest queen-size with a bounce – a hand balled at his temple. The sheets have clearly been replaced since he last laid in it, but old habits die hard. The green and gold of his colours is in full effect in this room from the curtains to the tapestries and the quilt draped across the mattress. “Lie with me,” he says, looking up through his lashes. “Please?”

Something about seeing Loki dressed in his, what he still calls, ‘Midgard garms’ suddenly seems ridiculous in one of Asgard’s royal bedchambers. A pair of tight black jeans cling to his muscles, denim shifting as he draws one knee over the other to rest on the bed. His forest green t-shirt has ridden up at his lower stomach, a victim of the obscene measurements of his stretching body. He chuckles lightly, making a thick line of his obliques tighten as he slips his fingers further into mussed hair. "I told you I was a prince," he says sheepishly.

You make your way to the bed and he flips to his back, releasing a happy groan as you straddle him. His eyelids droop, a flash of his upper teeth as he bites his bottom lip. "Frigga will be expecting us," you say as you roll your hips against his crotch. "Uhhh...gods-" he grunts, large palms rubbing up your thighs tight on either side of his chest. ‘Frigga can wait. I said I would give you a tour, and give you a tour...I shall.’ "Not from down there you won’t."

You yelp as Loki sits up and his lips fasten to yours, hand cradling the back of your head and forcing you in a violent kiss. He bites your bottom lip, sucking out gently. You moan softly as his hands begin to rub your thighs again. He’s needy. The sentimentality of bringing you Asgard for the first time is doing a real number on him. Your fingers run down his neck, down the hard dips and ridges of his abdomen through the t-shirt.

“I used to pleasure myself in this bed, dreaming of a woman like you-” he says huskily, beginning to thrust upwards. The painfully tight erection bursting against denim rubs against your gusset, toying back and forth. You feel a swell of arousal web between your folds as your eyes dart towards the open door. Just a crack, but it’s enough. The guards are never far in the palace it seems, even for a Prince who’s all grown up.

“Say more,” you tease. It’s a whisper, but it seems to echo. Loki chuckles quietly into the curve of your neck before he tips you easily to the side. You meet the mattress with a bounce, your head disappearing between the crevice of two plush pillows. Loki’s long form rises above you, impossibly rectangular, spread on his knees, the denim screaming around his crotch.

“It may come as a surprise to you that I was an awkward young man,” he starts, riding up the hem of his t-shirt. His leather belt sits maddeningly at the dent of his hips, perfect alabaster skin of his stomach flashing into view. “No!? I would never have guessed...” you joke, surprised at your ability to think straight as Loki’s shirt pops over his head. He throws it away, skittering gently across the marble floor. His eyes flash mischievously.

“But I had urges, of course; fucked myself night after night like a demon; elaborate fantasies formed in my head with excruciating detail.” He falls forward against the pillows, the bulge of his shoulders tensing as he cages you.

“I wouldn’t let myself cum until every detail in my head was perfect,” he breathes, letting long tendrils of hair drag against your throat in time with the filth of his dulcet syllables. “Again and again. It was enough to drive a young man to madness.”

“Did you ever have-?” you start, cut off by a pathetic moan as Loki drags his bound cock against your clit. “Never," he whispers. "This bed is as virginal as myself when I left it.”

The warm glow of his magic pulses from his skin. Loki’s jeans are gone, replaced by a green silk robe open at the waist. It's Asgardian craftsmanship, that much is obvious. Gold weaving edges the hem, its age betrayed only by the sleeves which are a little too short. The sage shimmer melts into the wave of his hair, and for a second you can’t bring yourself to believe there wasn’t a line forming outside his bedroom every night after he came of age.

He rests back on his haunches between your legs, flipping out the robe at the nip of his taut waist. Loki’s eyes smoulder, waiting for you to ask.

“Which one do you want?” you say. It times perfectly with a twitch of his proud cock as he draws a finger back and forth along its length. His chin dips and a small smile creeps at the corner of his lips.

Loki raises a hand, a theatrical snap of his fingers making the ceiling height door to the chamber swing closed with an almighty clang. Even under normal circumstances, doors don’t close quietly in the palace; it is by design.

“My goddess riding me,” he says, raising his gaze to yours. “Then once I’ve filled her, she crawls to my face; smothers me with her perfect, dripping sex; calls my name so loudly in ecstasy that my brother hears it all the way in the taverns.”

Your brows raise. “That’s quite specific.”

Loki shrugs. “I told you. It needed to be perfect. I spent a lot of time thinking about it.” You shuffle up on the pillows, curling one side of his silk robe in a fist and pulling his mouth to yours. He manoeuvres around, lying back against the pillows with bright eyes while you crawl on top of him once more.

“Are you my sweet virginal Prince?” you ask, batting your lashes. Loki snickers. "If you like." “I do.” “Aright then,” he sniffs. “Although I should warn you, for a virgin – I am rather an expert.” “Shhh-” You press a finger to his lips. "I read a lot of books," he explains with overly-earnest eyes, muffled against your finger. “Let’s get you some practice, then..” you whisper, rolling your hips up the length of his cock. Loki whimpers, brows slanting. You can't tell if that part is for show. With a slip of his hand against your ass you feel your dress dissolve, the nip of a breeze through the open arches making your nipples stiffen. Loki’s head leaves the pillow and catches one in his mouth as your hand guides his cock between your legs. You rub the tip against your slit, slipping back and forth as guttural groans roll in his throat.

"My virgin Prince," you coo.

Loki’s head falls back to the pillow, a warning brow rising. But his eyes sparkle. Slowly, you sink down onto his cock; each hard inch of muscle tugging against your walls as you settle to the hilt.

“Every time you do that,” Loki rasps, “it’s everything I ever dreamt of in this bed, I swear.” You flatten a curl of hair back from his forehead, rocking your hips back and forth. His hands slide up your waist, cupping your breasts as he pants beneath you. A vein in his neck throbs as he grits his teeth to the ceiling. He won’t last, not today. And that’s just fine.

You press his shoulders down, limiting his thrusts. If he wanted to, he could overthrow the touch in an instant. But he wont, not today; not in this bed. Every time you reach the tip of his cock you squeeze and his lips part; every time you sink him deep into your cunt they press together, like he doesn’t trust himself not to howl. The squelching is louder now. The moaning, too. You and Loki have fucked many times, in many places – in every conceivable position, each time you think you could never be more aroused, he proves you wrong. But something’s different about him here. When his beautiful eyes open, the dark fan of his lashes seem to pop against the vibrant blue ringing blown pupils.

Loki’s fingers sink deep into the plump of your ass. He pulls in time with your rhythm, drawing the flat of his feet up. In seconds, he sits up to meet your mouth; his tongue lapping against yours with quiet desperation. Your fingers run down his abdomen and you feel his stomach clench.

“Fill me, baby-” you whine into his open mouth, “show me what Asgard’s finest cock can give me.” Loki grunts in pleasured anguish, thrusting in erratic shudders as he erupts inside your heat. The angle is tight. Fresh seed creams at the seal of your slit and wells around the rim of his half-sheathed cock as he comes undone with a ragged exhale of your name. He captures you in a messy kiss, falling away from your mouth to your chest before collapsing back to the pillows. He squints with one eye, a lazy hand beckoning. “You sure?” There’s an unusual shyness in your voice. Loki nods with a wolfish, lopsided grin; drunk on sex. You shuffle up his abdomen, feeling a thick roll of hot cum settling against your inner thigh. Your fingers curl around the wooden headboard, Loki’s large palms settling on your ass and keeping you high. His head tilts, warm tongue tracing your inner thigh and sucking his seed from your skin. A violent shiver of desire rolls down your spine, making you thrust towards his face.

“I’ll try my best-” he purrs in character from between your legs.

His eyes are all you can see as his tongue outstretches. They disappear as he dips further back, running his warmth between your folds. He tilts his chin up, a white pool collected on his tongue. Loki of Asgard looks up from bottomless eyes, the planes of his cheekbones sharpened. You shoot down and jam your tongue into his open mouth. His cum swirls within the kiss, mingling with the earthy taste of your own pussy – swallows and moans and filth sliding down your throats. Loki gasps loudly as your kiss breaks with a slurp. “Was that in your fantasy?” you ask innocently, resuming your position above his head. “I regret now, that even in the depths of my teenage depravity, it was not,” Loki growled, squeezing your ass-cheeks. He nudges you closer. “Now, finish me,” he orders as he pushes you down against his face. The flat of Loki’s tongue meets your plump clit. Each flush and fat stripe of the muscle has no pretence – he intends to make you climax; and climax hard. Your nails dig into the headboard, scratching down pristine oak lined with gold. Images of Loki as a virginal youth rear in your mind, thrashing in these sheets, under this very ceiling, twisting and unravelling beneath the beat of his fist. Your thighs begin to tremble, held steady by his fingertips sinking deep into the curve of your ass. Loki’s tongue is relentless; it swirls and captures every flush of sparking orgasm and tends it with the next lap of his attentions. Before long, your legs tense – and somehow, one of your hands has tangled in his hairline, pushing him deeper, his nose slotted perfectly at the lip of your mound. The sight is all it takes. “Loki-” you choke, punctuated by a final devastatingly soft lick of his flat tongue over your sex. “Mmrph…” he grunts, brow furrowing. You hold your breath as climax shatters you, the exhale a strangled sob of his name that sings around the ceilings and tumbles out the archways.

You collapse on his chest, the two of you panting heavily. A thin sheen of fresh sweat clings to his skin. You trace the angle of his jaw, smiling as a dream-like peace descends on his features. “Do you think Thor heard?” “From Midgard? I doubt it,” Loki sighs, letting one of his legs fall open to the side. He’s hard again. “But I can let that part of the fantasy slide. Everything else was...perfection, my love.” You prop a fist beneath your chin. “Maybe we just need to try harder.”

“Fuck harder, you mean?” Loki says, a smirk curling the corners of his lips. “You did promise me a palace tour…” you say, drawing your knuckles up the velvet skin of his cock stretching against his stomach. Loki’s smirk grows wider.

Tags (continued in comments)

@meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @thevillainswhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @icytrickster17 @buttercupcookies-blog

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader #loki marvel #loki x you #loki odinson #loki odison x reader #lokismut #loki x you smut #loki imagine

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nyursi · 4 months

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𝐂𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐑!ㅤpart two.

꒰ † ੭‎ㅤNSFW 18+ㅤ(MDNI)... in a series of successful heists, the infamous cat burglar is finally caught and is left with the mercy of his victims to decide his fate.ㅤノㅤnot proofread.

ᡴꪫ‎ TODAY'S SPECIAL!ㅤdiluc, zhongli, heizou, (part one) alhaitham, dottore, and wriothesley (here, part two)!

WOULD YOU LIKE SPRINKLES? (っω=`)ㅤm!rdr, sensory deprivation, nipple play, sounding, multiple orgasms, cumming untouched, vibrators, office sex, power imbalance, size difference, degradation, and more.

ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

THE VALUE OF PAPERWORK...

featuring sensory deprivation, cumming untouched, nipple play, and alhaitham.

your skin was flushed, red on every surface from head to toe. the tight binding around your limbs restricted and chased away any thoughts of trying to escape.

the normal response to this situation would be fear... but why do you feel a tingling sensation down your back?

hard nipples exposed to cold air; and thighs forced open wide for the akademiya's scribe to take in. "what a sight you make, thief."

indeed— in alhaithams eyes you looked quite the feast. the situation was in his hands too, having caught the famous cat burglar attempting to sneak in. luckily he apprehended you quick enough.

just... not in the way you expected.

sure, the usual tying up to prevent movement you saw ahead of you, but the lack of clothing? and the blindfold over your eyes? a shocked noise (alhaitham considered it a whimper) had filled the silence of the room once you felt his rugged palms fondling your exposed, plush thighs.

oddly enough, the sensation was nice. it was the first time you've ever been caressed in such a gentle way that it made you want to melt. (purr, the scribe hoped.)

"mngh..." you bit your lip to muffle any more embarassing sounds to leave your mouth, feeling your limp cock twitch with arousal. everything about you alhaitham found cute; cute ears that twitched at every noise, tail that swayed hypnotizingly, adorable eyes filled with mischief.

it was too bad you were a lowly thief.

if you were trying to steal from him some spare pieces of food, or even money, the scribe would have let you go. but his documents?

he would spare you no mercy.

and thus began the long hours of you being suspended in the air, constantly teased. touches varied from feather light to sudden roughness. but no matter what he did, it all stirred life to the needy pleads of your body.

"don't whine, i'm being nice to you." alhaitham said after a babble of begs reached his ears when yet another orgasm was taken away from you. he kissed your nipple, tenderly, then bit on it and tugged. wanting to hear another wanton moan. "ngh!~" your head threw itself back whilst your legs kicked (as much as they could against restriction.)

hips stuttering once alhaithams free hand ventured downwards close to your twitching hole, too close for your liking. he chuckled feeling the heat between your thighs, but continued past the desperate heat to fondle at your tiny balls.

pre begun to leak down your sensitive shaft, dripping and leaving a small pathetic puddle on the floor. and alhaitham decided to finish it then and there.

"gah!?-" a painful pleasure struck you when he pulled on your hardened nubs, leaving you drooling and squirming. your mind couldn't figure out if you were squirming away or towards the sensation. "nngh! hai- haitham!~"

hips stuttered with every tug on your chest, and alhaitham wished he could see your crossed eyes underneath the blindfold. but the scribe was curious, and wanted to see if you could cum faster.

he began to tug on your tail harshly, while still paying attention to your cute nipples. "nn.. nooo! 'm sensitive!" you wailed, unprepared for the rushing pleasure that travelled all the way down to your cock.

soon enough, the bead of pre on your tip became a string of white, coating both of your chests in a sticky mess.

you'll have to tell the fatui to remind you that alhaitham is very serious about his documents...

ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

THE SCIENTIST'S NEW LAB RAT...

featuring vibrators, multiple orgasms, sounding, and dottore (not prime).

how many times already? you've lost count. and the loud buzzing didn't do any help to make you remember anyway.

your plan was simple; get to snezhnaya, sneak past the lowly guards, and somehow snag the doctor's latest creation— a faux gnosis. your client believed it to hold the same celestial power like a true one.

suspicion nagged at the back of your mind when you noticed the lax patrol around dottore's laboratory, and you should've known that he had some sort of contraption so insane that he didn't need any guards.

nonetheless, you shrugged such a situation off.

"a-ahnn!~ hah- wait, no! i can't-" a loud moan ripped from your throat, and a pathetic spurt of semen landed on the floor again.

your wrists and ankles hurt— being held by cold metal for hours wasn't all that pleasant.

a guttural chuckle echoed around the room, laughing at your state. "do you like it? i decided to modify my new security measures when i heard of a certain cat burglar and his plans to take away my precious gnosis." dottore finally entered your vision, circling you like a predator.

the scene of you being captured replayed constantly in his mind. it was too good!

as soon as your feet stepped through the metal door, they triggered a sensor that allowed two cuffs to come out of nowhere and secure your ankles. they were weighted— and the heaviness on your feet caused you to collapse. which allowed the handcuffs to attach itself on your wrists.

so now you were wriggling on the floor, being tortured and teased by various vibrating instruments. you had cum in your pants for the nth time by now, and the vibrators in your ass assaulted your sensitive prostate nonstop.

"can't- don't wanna cum anymooore!~" you whined, body twitching from the extreme pleasure that caused tears in your eyes. all the while dottore thought you could belong to an art exhibit!

footsteps approached. "well, if you say so." dottore had a mischevious grin, as he held out a long beaded rod for you to see. "ngh!?-" suddenly a cold sensation entered your urethra; succesfully blocking any future orgasms.

to make it worse, the doctor had turned all vibrators to max. he could only chuckle when all your sounds echoed off the walls. be it babbles, whines, or squeals, dottore took it all in. "aww," he pet your ears gently— contrast to the harsh movements within you.

in the same rhythm of his hand, dottore moved the sounding rod up and down, with every thrust downwards he pushed it in more, until the biggest bead nestled itself on your tip. and as soon as it did, your toes clenched.

fuck. it touched your prostate.

"gukh!~" your jaw went slack, and an extreme feeling rushed to your red, throbbing, cock.

he could only cackle when not an ounce of cum escaped, maniacal laughter fading when you passed out.

dottore has such exciting plans for his new pretty kitty!

ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

METHODS OF DISCIPLINE...

featuring office sex, power imbalance, size difference, and wriothesley.

"i'm innocent! i swear!" you plead as wriothesley dragged you through the halls, the sight of never ending cells made you shiver.

the buff male didn't pay you any mind. continuing to tug at the long metal chain around your neck, leading you to what seems to be his office.

your were wide eyed and fearful, that much wriothesley could tell. hearing that cute little gulp behind him made his cock twitch.

he didn't expect such a famous burglar to be so... cute. everything about you seemed meek now that you were in chains. and the cold steel around your skin wasn't a bad look on you, either.

wriothesley chuckled to himself, shaking his head as you both approached his office. honestly? the sound of his deep laugh was quite nice, despite the initial fear rattling your bones.

"don't lie, boy. i know what you did." he huffed, throwing you onto his desk, and the loud slam of his door made you flinch. in an attempt to be free from future punishment, you scrambled to defend yourself.

"i'm not! i didn't do anythi-" you garbled when the taste of leather invaded your tongue, did he really just shove his fingers in your mouth!? wriothesley already predicted your next move and pinned both wrists above your head.

"ah-ah, lying will make this worse."

a diappointed tsk made you flinch, especially as you felt a pressure on your clothed bulge. you gave him a weak kick to his thigh— and wriothesley couldn't help his rising laughter.

"what's a kitty like you gonna do to me? don't you see how small you are?" with every word he said, wriothesley inched his face closer and closer to yours. until you felt his hot breath fanning your face.

just right when you were gonna talk back, he begun to rub his knee in circles, the feeling was so good that you threw your head back against the desk. "hng!~"

and wriothesley saw an opportunity.

in a quick movement, he leaned down and bit. not so hard to draw blood— but it'll definitely leave a mark. "huh?- wrio!~" your legs instinctively wrapped themselves around his waist, making him put down his knee and grind his hard on against your leaking sex.

bite! "who allowed you to call me that?" he bit just on your collarbone, quickening his thrusts. the slacks around him began to feel small with his growing size— and you just got wetter by the second.

you whined, back arching from the desk. "if you're gonna punish me, get in with it!" kicking your legs in frustration due to wriothesley's endless teasing.

"tsk, how demanding. as you wish." he wasted no time and literally tore your pants apart, ripping a hole that perfectly displayed your whole underside. a cute butt to match a cute dick.

a needy moan left your spit-ridden lips, begging for him to do something. anything.

but wriothesley had already decided your fate; a perfect punishment. denying any orgasm to ever escape you.

vanillaclaws 2024.ㅤdo not repost.

#male reader smut #sub male reader #uke male reader #x male reader #male reader #alhaitham x male reader #alhaitham smut #wriothesley x male reader #wriothesley smut #dottore x male reader #dottore smut #っω=`)ㅤ⎯⎯ㅤmy works...#( ୨୧‎ )ㅤcat burglar!

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obsessivevoidkitten · 4 months

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On The Naughty List

Yandere Krampus x Gender Neutral Reader CW: Noncon, spanking, bondage, dick piercings, size difference, Krampus, Christmas, assassin reader, punishment, kidnapping, biting, very mild blood from biting, general yandere behavior Word Count: 1.5k (Hey guys, I hope you all like this. Kinda rushed, not beta read, please forgive any errors. My second Christmas gift to you all. I hope your holiday is amazing <3)

You got yourself settled in your hotel room. It was very early in the morning, not past 3am, on Christmas. But you were not Santa Claus and you were not delivering cheer. You had with you only a simple black suitcase. The furnishings in your room were sparse, but that was okay. You did not select this room because of the accommodations but rather for its view. It was not particularly scenic, merely a view of a road and residential area. But you were an assassin and this room afforded you clear aim into the room of your target’s living room. All you had to do was wait.

Your weapon was easy enough to assemble. A sniper rifle, of course. Finally you saw your designated victim pull up into their driveway and enter their house, so you opened the window and readied yourself. An icy chill filled the room. Your vantage point was clear and your weapon was ready but before you could take out your mark you heard a strange and tumultuous sound from behind.

It sounded like the Earth was being torn asunder and the four winds themselves were howling in unison as they collided.

You turned around and saw the very fabric of space and tear before you leaving a purple portal leaking black mist blocking the door to the hotel room. An odd scent like that of cinnamon and coal filled the room. You were about to flee through the open window, you had the skills necessary to scale the building, but the window slammed shut before you could act.

Not many things made a hardened combatant turned assassin such as yourself scared but you would be lying if you said you weren’t trembling.

You could hear a slow and rhythmic pounding sound getting nearer and nearer as if some unseen monstrosity approached from the other side of the portal. And that’s exactly what it was.

The first thing you saw erupt through the rip in space was the head of a horned beast. It was humanoid and wore a wicked grin full of sharp teeth. Eyes like black coals stared into you, piercing you with unrestrained glee in your fear.

Followed by this terrifying face was its body.

Muscular thighs with legs like tree trunks that ended in cloven hooves.. And his whip-like tail lashed angrily at the air. The demonic beast was covered in thick black fur.

The horrifying creature was at least 7 feet. tall.

The faint scent of burning coal filled the space surrounding it.

It took a thundering step towards you, and you cowered in place, momentarily stunned as it said in a deep booming voice, "I’m Krampus and someone has been verrrry naughty this yeeeear."

Though you felt more fear than you ever thought possible you were still a trained combatant turned assassin for hire and you managed to collect yourself about as well as it was possible for any mere human to in such a situation.

You shot the thing right between the eyes with your high-powered rifle, and he... laughed. The bullet bounced off uselessly, and he just... laughed...

You screamed and shouted as loudly as you could, hoping to attract help. Though what they could possibly do when he had shrugged off, a bullet remained to be seen.

No help came for you. Krampus always magically silenced noise from leaking out of rooms where he was punishing someone.

Suddenly, he closed the difference between the two of you and was upon you in record speed, moving supernaturally fast for such a behemoth.

With precise movements, strong hands and sharp claws made confetti out of your dark clothing before he had you bent over his knee.

"I usually use a birch rute for this, but I wanna feel your skin on my hand..."

You struggled and tried to get away, but there was no chance he would let you go. Krampus had to punish many humans, but you were special. Ironically, it was your defiance, the fight in your eyes, that initially attracted him to you.

His hard, calloused hand came down on your bare ass, causing you to curse and tremble.

With all your training something as simple as a slap to your ass shouldn't have bothered you much, even from such a large adversary, but it was like he had slammed the essence of dread into your very heart.

But that still wasn't enough to still you. You kicked, punched, and clawed ferally at any inch of flesh you could reach, like a feral animal backed into a corner.

But he only laughed more as he spanked you over and over. Until you were crying. Worse than the pain was the total humiliation.

Through it all, though, you never stopped struggling. No matter how much terror and pain you endured. You didn't realize it, but it only made him more into you.

Everyone he had punished before, broke them like a kid with a toy, and left them to deal with the trauma. But you didn't seem so easily broken, and that sealed your fate.

If you kept resisting like you were, he was going to keep you forever.

Krampus finally stopped the assault on your rear and dragged you, kicking and screaming over to the bed. You could now see his cock, large and uncut with a frenum ladder set of piercings going up the underside of his length.

"Stop! Get away from me!!"

"Yeah, because you're really the one in position to give commands right now."

He chuckled and bent you over the bed as you writhed madly, knowing what was about to happen.

"Might need to keep you still for this."

In a puff of black smoke, a coil of rope appeared in his hand that he skillfully used to bind your legs and arms.

While he had tied up many people in his line of work, he had never actually used rape to punish someone. But he wanted to see how far he could take things with you. Though at this point, even if he broke you, he was sure he would keep you anyway, just to fix you up again.

Krampus spit on your hole and plunged his cock in roughly. Hardly enough prep to do anything for the pain. For the fiery burning stretch that came with his big dick breaching your entrance.

Despite being bound you still wriggled as best you could while screaming until your throat hurt.

"Fuck you! Goddamned piece o- AHHHH!!!!"

He smirked as he increased the pace. Good. His toy STILL wasn't crumbling apart.

Sharp claws raked your back as his hot breath cascaded down your neck while he whispered, "For someone so bad you feel so good."

Tears rushed down your cheeks. You were infuriated with him and with yourself for having allowed yourself to be taken with such ease. What was far more reprehensible than that though, was the fact that your body had adjusted to his size and it was actually starting to feel somewhat good despite the pain and discomfort.

You yelped as he lightly smacked your sore ass while fucking you.

"Go to H-hell bastard!"

"Ha, been there."

He pulled out, flipped you over on your back, and slid right back into, profuse amounts of precum now providing more adequate lubrication. Embarrassingly, you couldn't stifle a moan as he entered back into you with his piercings adding to the sensation you were trying to ignore.

If your legs hadn't been tied you would have tried to kick him right between the legs for making your body betray you like that.

He leaned over and nibbled on your neck lightly with his sharp teeth, licking up the little droplets of blood that welled to the surface of your skin

You moaned as he did so, as you were pulled closer and closer to orgasm.

Violently, you twitched as you came hard, blushing deeply and cursing him as you did so. He ignored you and licked the blush on your cheeks, humiliating you even farther.

For a few more moments you thrashed as much as you were able in overstimulation as he continued to breed you. His skin meeting yours with an audible slap at each thrust.

Finally he went in deep and filled you with abnormally hot cum that coaxed another orgasm from your exhausted body.

After a few moments of panting he sighed with content and slung you over his shoulders, cum leaking from you and out on to him as he carried you. Vulgarities rolling from your tongue with each heavy step he took.

Another portal opened and he stepped through with you. The cussing, the fierceness, the unbreakable spirit. A perfect partner.

You were the best Christmas gift he had ever given himself, and there was no way he was ever going to give you up.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere x reader #monster boyfriend #yandere monster #gender neutral reader #male yandere x gn reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere #yandere Holidays #Yandere Christmas #Happy Holidays 2023 #christmas 2023 #Yandere Krampus #Krampus x reader #yandere scenarios #Yandere Scenario

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mooshywrites · 3 months

Text

Bedtime Stories

Fem!Reader x Halsin

Masterlist

Art commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

A/N - Halsin has ran himself ragged with bedtime stories, his charges demanding to hear a tale or two every night. He comes to you for help, hoping you have a few stories to spare. Unfortunately, this simple ask is going to leave the two of you with very little sleep tonight

Word count - 3.3K

Warnings - NSFW, MDNI, fingering, dirty talk, size difference, vaginal penetration, cream pie, established relationship, smut with plot, minor spoilers, mentions of past violence

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“Not even the first drop of rain in a drought of one thousand years could compare to the sight of you bared for me like this.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“And that’s when I knew I was a goner.” Halsin said, his voice low and serious. You stifled a giggle, worried it would pierce right through the tense air. There wasn’t a single breath taken in the expansive silence.

”What happened next?” A tiny voice whispered from the semi circle before Halsin. It came from a tiny tiefling girl, one that was hanging on every single word of the Druid’s story.

It was adorable watching them, watching your love tell tales to the children you were charged with taking care of. He was rather animated in his stories, hushed voices and sweeping gestures, speaking of beasts and demons and giant brains touched down to earth to take over the land.

The kids ate the stories up. Listened to him as if it were the last story they would ever hear. Each one of them could throw quite the impressive fit in the evening, demanding that Halsin talk them to sleep. He always gave in, sometimes having to make something up on the spot. You would think that with as long as he’s been alive, he would have plenty of stories to tell, but you knew all too well that most of those stories couldn’t be told to little ears.

You loved the evenings, though. Loved watching the gentle giant try his best to calm the terrifying horde of children. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness as you looked over the kids. Most of them had the same story. Lost and forgotten children, victims of the horror that occurred a few months earlier.

Only a few of them had actually told you what happened to them, but it was more or less consistent. Their parents had been killed, turned, or were simply missing in the fight against The Absolute. You didn’t know during the journey itself how many villages had been affected by the cult, but each one of these cubs were a testament to how deep the violence ran.

You could still remember the look on Halsin’s face when you came across a tiefling orphan in the streets of lower Baldur’s Gate. There they were, standing over their parents' bodies. The two older tiefling had been unfortunate murders dedicated to the god of murder himself, Bhaal. The Druid’s face hardened, his words harsh as he wondered how many children had been affected in a similar way

That little tiefling was one of the first that Halsin scooped up to rescue.

Since then, you acquired quite the group of wayward souls. What was it that Halsin said? Right, nine wagons full of the little angels. At first you had been completely overwhelmed at the thought of so many little mouths to feed, little minds to grow, little hearts to mend. But Halsin took it all on the chin, always seeming to know exactly what to say or do.

Yet, the panicked look he’s giving you right now? Maybe your bear wasn’t equipped to handle all of what the children required.

“Then…” You started, beginning to move around the semi circle of kids, your voice sinister and low.

The kids' attention turned to you, eyes wide and expecting. You could’ve laughed at how intensely they were staring, but you knew you had quite the show to put on if you didn’t want to be mauled by a pack of rabid cubs.

”Then Halsin stalked around the cave, trying his best to appease the Mother Owlbear. He knew with one wrong step…” You paused for a dramatic moment, making eye contact with as many of them as you could, “And he would be swallowed up in one gulp.”

You heard Halsin scoff and ignored it, seeing the reaction ripple through your tiny audience.

”How would the owl bear even eat Daddy Halsin!” A particularly brave kid questioned.

A valid question. My spur of the moment storytelling probably wouldn’t withstand professional attention to plot holes

”Well, because,” You pondered, standing up straight again. “The owl bear was the biggest one we’ve ever seen. Just one of its claws was bigger than any one of you little cubs.”

One of the kids, a pale ginger half elf, stifled a shriek. She clung to her brother who was putting on a very good show of bravery, though he was a shade paler than usual.

Note to self - Less scary, more story

”If you want to know how Daddy Halsin escaped, you all have to be good and get some sleep.” You ended, putting on a warm smile.

Groans echoed around you, the kids obviously not happy with the cliffhanger in their bedtime story.

“Aht, ah, ah, lovelies. Bad kids who don’t listen to Miss Daddy Halsin get eaten by giant owl bears.”

That seemed to do the trick, the children scrambling over themselves to crawl into their bedrolls. Halsin had let them choose where to put their beds, most choosing to sleep in the equivalent of a pile in the corner of the grove. A few slept a few feet away, but the proximity to your quarters seemed to keep all of their mind’s at ease.

You smiled as Halsin came bumbling toward you, a tired smile gracing his features, “You’re always better at getting them to bed than I am, my heart.” He muttered, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. You leaned into the touch, his large hand warming the small of your back.

”What can I say, terrorizing kids is my specialty.” You teased, looking over the bundles of furs. You hadn’t realized how heavy your shoulders felt until now, how hard it was to keep your eyes open.

Ever perceptive, Halsin knew how exhausted you were as soon as you did. He chuckled softly and let you go, “Go on to bed, sweet. I will kiss foreheads.”

Any other day, you might’ve argued. Kissing everyone goodnight was one of your favorite parts of the night. But you were tired, and, well… there were a lot of foreheads.

You padded towards the large stone door, making your way to the room you and Halsin shared. When the children first arrived, it made you nervous to think of them out in the open, separated by a thick slab of rock. Practically no sound got past the opening, after all. Halsin kissed away your worries, assuring you there were a plethora of animals who would keep careful watch over them. Half of which were even nocturnal.

Without any worries, and a slight feeling of fatigue in your bones the sight of your bed was a beautiful, beautiful scene. You sat on the edge of the bed, idly running your hands across the deep set carvings etched into the wood. It had taken weeks to convince Halsin to make you a bed frame, even longer to convince him to actually sleep on the bed and not the ground. After enough pleading and many a kiss, he finally completed the process, even detailing the wood with his whittling tools.

It didn’t seem long before Halsin appeared in the wide doorway, expression light. “Those little ones will surely be the death of me.”

”I’ve heard it said that being around children makes you feel young again.” You mused, tucking your legs under the thin blankets.

“Whoever says that is a fraud. They only make me feel much, much older.” He laughed, coming over to sit at your feet. “They love your stories, my heart. Perhaps you should be in charge of that for now.”

”No, I simply couldn’t.” You said decisively, shaking your head for good measure.

“And why not?” Halsin asked incredulously, hands coming up to rub your feet. You knew that his movements were a thinly veiled attempt at bribery, but you wouldn’t be weak enough to fall for it this time.

”They like your stories more.” You shrugged, letting your eyes flutter shut as you enjoyed the massage. “I like your stories more as well.”

”It’s difficult to tell stories with you around.” He said quietly, eyes trained on you. You met his gaze, seeing a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

That smile never meant anything good.

“What do you mean?” You asked simply, feigning ignorance. You could try to ignore the way his hands moved higher up to your calf, but you knew that focus would be short lived. No, if the Druid wanted your attention, he would have to earn it.

“I mean… How am I supposed to be present enough to tell a story when nature’s most beautiful creation herself is standing mere feet away from me?” His voice was a half a note lower than usual, barely perceptible if it were anyone but the man you loved.

”You flatter me.” You whisper, not trusting your voice to hide the way heat began crawling its way through your stomach.

Halsin leaned in, pressing a kiss against your jaw. His words tickled your skin, warm breath brushing over your ear as he spoke, “Oak Father, preserve me, how am I supposed to focus on anything when your sweet scent washes over me at even your nearness?”

Your breath caught in your throat, your mind already becoming fogged with clouds of desire. “Maybe you are just less skilled at focusing than I am.” You responded.

He pulled back for a moment, still smiling grinning. “You think you can get through a story while being distracted?” He prodded

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. You knew the feeling that crawled through the back of your mind. It was the same one you had when you knew you were about to walk face first into a trap. One you just couldn’t place, exactly.

“I suppose so.” You countered, arms coming up to cross in front of you. “What story would you like to hear?”

”Hmm.” He thought aloud, pausing for a moment. You found your gaze fawning over him during the brief break, appreciating the way his shoulders flexed, his hands never pausing the foot rub. “Tell me the story of how we first met.”

”That’s it? What’s the catch?” You inquired suspiciously

“Catch? Why would there be a catch, my heart?” His expression screamed ‘innocent’ but your intuition screamed ‘SCHEMER’

“Fine. I’ll tell you how we met without getting distracted.” You started, leaning back against the wall. “I had heard you had gotten captured at the goblin camp. A very intelligent move by th-“

You faltered slightly as Halsin leaned back forward, lips brushing over your collarbone. You could practically feel him smirk against you, words muffled slightly, “Why did you stop? Distracted already?”

You felt a surge of defiance, a deep sense of determination against his taunting. It didn't matter how flushed your cheeks felt at the current moment, you would be getting through this story.

You would be the one to win.

Your voice continued on, a bit shakier than before, “So I decided I needed to break you out.”

Halsin’s lips continue to mold against your skin, peppering slow, teasing kisses along your shoulder. “I asked around quite a bit about you, but no one seemed to know exactly where you were.”

You caught another gasp as Halsin’s hands wrapped around the small of your back, toying with the ties of your bodice.

No. Focus.

”When I realized I would either need to break or sneak into the goblin camp, I also realized I was much too weak for either.”

“Mnm” Halsin responded, signaling you on.

Only, it was difficult to continue on. You felt the ribbon of your dress completely loosened, the delicious warmth of the Druid’s hands against your bare back. You swallowed thickly, trying your best to ignore the feeling.

“I needed to get stronger, so I could save the helpless first Druid,” You muttered, annoyance obviously present as you tried your best to keep your thoughts straight.

”Oh, my heart.” Halsin murmured, deftly pushing the fabric off of your shoulders and down to your waist. You shivered slightly, feeling your nipples pebble through the material of your underclothes. Halsin’s attention went straight towards the raised mounds, a strange sort of irreverent glint in his eyes. He looked back up at you, smiling softly. “You don’t know the meaning of helpless.”

With that, his mouth dipped down, catching a clothed breast in a gentle nip. You had to grate your teeth tightly to avoid the moan caught in your throat, thoughts holding on to your “story” by the thinnest of threads.

”Given up?” Halsin whispered again, a rough palm coming up to cup the other breast, kneading so lightly you might’ve been imagining it.

“No!” You snapped, eyebrows coming together as you mustered all the focus you could manage. ”When I finally found you, I never thought you’d be a-“

You couldn’t help the whimper that took over your sentence as Halsin dragged a thick finger over your clothed core. Your mind short circuited, wetness gathering almost immediately at a simple touch.

You knew, deep down, that Halsin had won. That it was hopeless to think you could’ve ignored his… distractions… in the first place. How were you supposed to ignore the way his mouth skillfully worked in tandem with his hand, the way his free hand had snuck up to render you speechless?

The only response the elf gave you was a low chuckle, his gentle touch beginning to rub circles around your heat devilishly slow. The sly cur, he wouldn’t even take the satisfaction of bragging of his win.

No, instead, he would just continue to see you undone by his hand.

”You're a cheater.” You whimpered quietly, finally giving up the game.

”And you, my heart,” He murmured, shifting in the bed slightly, “Are a sore loser.”

“Just… just touch me.” You responded, refusing to give him any more defiance than he already had broken in you.

Your druid was ever so gentle as he removed the rest of your clothes, leaving gentle kisses along your skin as the fabric slid off. Every touch, every movement left a deep need coursing through your veins. You might’ve been embarrassed by the depth of your desire if your mind had any room for such thoughts.

But no. The only thing your thoughts would entertain right now was him.

”By Silavanis’s grace.” Halsin whispered, leaning back, hungry gaze taking you in. “Not even the first drop of rain in a drought of one thousand years could compare to the sight of you bared for me like this.”

Your cheeks reddened further, arms coming up to shield your intimate parts from his attentive eyes. You were never the best at taking compliments, Especially ones as beautifully and lovingly crafted as the words Halsin used.

”Do not hide yourself from me, my heart. Do not deprive me of your beauty.” His hands gently pried yours away, his smile gentle.

”I’m just feeling a little overdressed.” You said, gesturing to the fully clothed Druid in front of you.

“I suppose you’re right, my sweet.” He grinned, hands working quickly to rid himself of his clothes.

You took the opportunity to marvel at the man’s physique. The way his tan skin shone in the candle light, scars shining. His muscles pulled and relaxed as he moved, the entirety of him an artfully designed creation.

It didn’t take long for his lips to come back down to yours, catching you in a passionate kiss. It was slow and purposeful, his arms wrapping around you to pull you flush against him. His grasp was strong, his skin deliciously warm against you. Calloused hands found their way to exactly where Halsin knew you needed them, one on the soft mound of your chest, the other under the curve of your ass.

Your lips worked just as eagerly against him, small moans escaping occasionally. Your hands clung onto his arms, hips already beginning to push up desperately.

”Patience, my heart.” Halsin’s voice was low, rasped, clearly holding on to the last bit of rationale he had left.

You couldn’t seem to help yourself, pushing your hips harder, wetness dragging along his hard member.

”Oak father, preserve me.” He growled, gripping your hip harshly. If it were anyone but Halsin, his tone may have made you nervous. But with him… it only made you crave him more.

”Please, Halsin. Please, I need you.” You begged, not caring how you’d been rendered undone so easily.

You weren’t left wanting for long, Halsin shifting slightly to press the soft tip of his cock against your entrance. You clenched around nothing, whimpering with need.

Halsin winced, showing much more control than you could manage. “You must relax, my heart. Breathe deeply.”

You took a deep breath and held it, preparing yourself for the inevitable stretch of Halsin’s rather endowed length. It had taken twice as long to get this far your first time laying together, you thought he would split open completely. But now, your impatience was wearing thin.

As if he could read your inner dilemma, Halsin finally gave you what you wanted. The tension melted from your body, your breath rushing out as an airy moan when you felt him push into you. “God’s above!” You whined, trying to acclimate to the stretch.

Halsin’s brow was furrowed, mouth in a thin line as he looked down at where the two of your body’s met, “You look so perfect with my cock inside of you, my heart. So perfect.”

You would’ve returned the compliment, thought of something else to say, that is if Halsin hadn’t chosen that moment to thrust all the way into your awaiting cunt. You cried out in pleasure, Halsin giving you no more time to adjust as he set forth a harsh pace. Every other breath was a moan, the sound of Halsin’s labored breaths shock waves to your core.

His hand came up to cover your mouth, trying his best to muffle your lewd sounds as his head dipped against yours.

”My heart…” He murmured. “Mine.”

His tone was graveled, possessive, and you could tell instinct was taking over already. Your own heat clenched in response, earning another harsh growl from your gentle giant.

“Halsin, I’m-“ You stuttered, your mind not able to take in both the pleasure and sweet burn from his cock sliding in and out of your dripping cunt.

“I know, my heart.” He choked out, his thrusts becoming quicker. He drilled into you with short deep pumps, sweat beading across his forehead. “Silvanus himself couldn’t create a more beautiful sight.” He whispered lowly, his hips starting to thrust more erratically. “Not more beautiful than you filled with my seed.”

With that, your cord snapped.

Your heat clenched tightly, incoherent moans muffled against Halsin’s hand. Your vision was blurry, pure ecstasy running like molten lava through your veins. You felt Halsin’s own release erupt into you with a growl, his teeth nipping at your ear as he followed through with his words.

For a moment or two, you both stayed like that, heavy breaths as you came back to the land of the living after such intense highs. When Halsin’s hand left your mouth and began to trace affectionate circles along your cheek, you finally trusted your voice enough to speak.

”I suppose I’m ready to admit defeat.” You smiled, bathing in the warmth of Halsin’s affectionate gaze.

“Surely you didn’t think I would’ve let you best me in the art of bedtime stories?” He chuckled, landing a kiss against your nose.

”We really must be careful doing things like this.” You teased, pointing to where the two of you remained connected. “We’re going to end up with yet another little one to take care of.”

You squealed into a giggle as he rolled the two of you over suddenly, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. You snuggled into his warmth, deciding that cleaning up would better be left for tomorrow. Right now you were content being tucked into Halsin’s strong, steady arms.

“Oh, I’m not sure, my sweet.” Halsin smiled, eyes meeting yours with a look full of love and affection,

“What’s one more?”

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