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thegnomelord · 2 months

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Good Dog

CW: NSFW, DARK-FIC, murder, gore, power imbalance, size difference(reader's bigger), description of torture and brainwashing, oral, anal, blood as lube, plot and exposition with porn, pet play(collars and leashes), toxic relationship, dub-con, very very self indulgent.

Моя гончая- my hound, Хороший солдат - good soldier, Расслабьтесь, братья мои - relax, my brothers, приносить - fetch, есть - eat

The thick door and walls of the private room do nothing to damped the bass of the club pounding in his ears, the annoying music made bearable by the high of a recent victory. Puffs of cigarette smoke lazily curl in the air as Makarov leans further back into the couch, the buzzing sting of a fresh tattoo helping him relax. The scent of expensive liquor only adds to the heady atmosphere, crystal clear vodka swirling in his glass before Makarov takes a sip. His dark eyes peer over the rim of his glass, like doorways to a dark abyss, his gaze dancing across the faces of his most trusted men before settling on the lieutenant's as the man tries to prove his worth with pointless words.

Above all else, Makarov values loyalty.

It doesn't matter how strong a man is if he can't follow orders. The number of soldiers he can lead is pointless when he can't keep his men alive. How well he can shoot is meaningless when he can't devote himself to a cause. A man who is disloyal is a man of single use.

Makarov doesn't even try to listen to whatever drivel the lieutenant's spouting, he doesn't see a reason to sour his mood when he already knows everything: the embezzling, the lying, the adorable double agent act. He has you to thank for that, you'd sniffed the lieutenant out the second you met him, diligently uncovering every speck of dirt the lieutenant had attempted to hide from Makarov.

And you? You are very loyal. His loyal hound.

His fingers curl around the leash, the smooth black leather sliding against his calloused palms. A barely there tug is all it takes for you to lean down over the back of the couch, bracing one large hand near his head for support as the other remains over the grip of your sidearm. You loom over him, and while Makarov may be a fearsome man, he can't deny the type of foreboding fear a goliath like you inspires — a towering figure always a step behind him, broad body big enough to easily cover him fully if you need to take a bullet for him, arms strong and palms wide to easily crack a man's skull.

Settling the glass down he takes another drag of his cigarette, "Hound," Another tug — sharper, harsher; such a small correction yet the fact you needed it at all has acrid disappointment burning on your tongue — makes you bend down more, your face now next to his. He doesn't draw attention to the reprimand, breathing out a puff of smoke near your face. "Were you listening, моя гончая?"

It's a pointless question, he knows you were listening, he trained you to. But he asks because he loves to see the way your eyes darken, jaw tight. The cigarette smoke dances in the air, making the club's low lights reflect off the sharp spikes adorning the thick collar snuggly wrapped around your throat. Your day collar suits you well, no different than the spiked collars put on hunting hounds.

"Yes sir." You answer, your attention now solely on the lieutenant.

Makarov hums, eyes flickering from the lieutenant to you. "And?" He chuckles and lets the leash go, his word keeping you in place as he casually pats your neck. "What did you hear?"

"Lies. . ." The slow slide of his fingers across the uncovered parts of your throat makes your breath stutter, static crackling beneath your skin. "I heard lies, sir." Your answer causes the lieutenant to try and sputter excuses and denials, all cut short by the harsh look you give him.

Makarov chuckles, hooking a finger over the silver loop at the front of your collar, pulling on it and tilting his head so his lips can ghost across your jaw. "Хороший солдат." Makarov murmurs. His stubble scratches your skin as his lips brush a path to your ear, so very close to a lover's kiss.

But a brush of skin is all it is. Nothing more. Your body earns for more, to turn your head and experience the bruising possessiveness of his kiss once again, to feel his teeth bite down on your lip until blood floods both of your mouths. But you don't move; A spoiled dog isn't loyal and Makarov won't lavish you with attention for nothing. no — you must earn it.

"Stay." The soft 'click' of the leash unclipping sounds the same as a sentencing gavel, the strip of leather falling away until only his word keeps you from tearing the lieutenant's throat out with your teeth. Makarov smirks against your skin, his words honey sweet to your ears as he whispers: "Sick him."

That seals the ex-lieutenant's fate.

You're on the lieutenant in an instant, crashing into him like a truck. Makarov leans back and lights up another cigarette as you stomp down on the man's leg, all the weight you carry around bearing down on his bones until they break, erasing any foolish thoughts of escape when you snap the bones of his other ankle; Makarov has truly taught you well.

The screams of a traitor are much better than the atrocious club music, letting him enjoy the smooth burn of the vodka as another stomp breaks a couple of ribs. Some of his men are still nervous around you, trying not to shuffle in their seats lest they grab your attention and become the new outlet of your violence.

"Расслабьтесь, братья мои." Makarov gives a charming smile, resting his ankle on his knee as he takes another drag. "Hound is well trained, you have nothing to fear." He chuckles, lazily watching you as he holds conversation with his lieutenants. Honestly, you're like a dog with a new toy, tossing the man around and pinning him down under your heavy body, each swing of your fists steadily turning the ex-lieutenant's face into pulp.

It's as entertaining for him as it is therapeutic for you.

And to think Price had tried to suppress all that beautiful savageness you possessed.

Makarov remembers how you'd been nothing but a snarling and cursing ball of anger when his men had captured you after a botched mission. He had been both annoyed and amused by how loyal you were to Price, weathering every beating and starving and humiliation with the same 'fuck you' response, baring your teeth like the cornered dog you were. With days turning to months and your resolve refusing to waver under their 'care' Makarov had considered just putting you down, sending a nice video of blowing your skull open to Price but oh — is he glad he decided to indulge in the game your stubbornness presented.

He set out to train you like he would any mongrel mutt, clear expectations making it easy to tell whether your actions would get you a reward or an even worse punishment, giving small rewards for the behavior he wanted; not snarling at him might earn you a better meal. Biting your lip and taking your beating without back talk could get you a couple of minutes outside the claustrophobic walls of your cell. Letting him touch and inspect your body without complaint might reward you with a book or some other little creature comfort he could, and did, easily take away the moment you stepped out of line.

Of course you were weary, perceptive enough to know when he was scheming. But every man has his limits, yours were simply reached when he handed you official C.I.A documents proclaiming you as K.I.A, the mission itself creatively rewritten to sound like you had gone and deserted to the enemy — no one was looking for you, no one was coming to save you, your captain, Price, wasn't coming to save you.

He had taken great enjoyment in running his fingers across your scalp as you clutched the documents in a white knuckled grip, your mind far too worn down to question or guard against the soft touches. His lips had brushed against your ear, soothingly raspy voice comforting you — you're a good soldier, strong, reliable, everything a commander could dream of. It wasn't your fault you trusted the wrong man, truly, what a shame to have your loyalty repaid with betrayed like that.

After that, it became laughably easy to train you. He stuck with simple commands, spoken only in Russian so he could amuse himself with the way your head would tilt before you'd perk up, recognition making your dull eyes brighten before you did what he wanted in exchange for a small scrap of his affection, learning to seek his praise and appreciate his touch even when your body still prickled with disgust. So when he handed you the knife, standing so close you could have easily slit his throat, and ordered you to kill another member of your previous taskforce, you hadn't hesitated for a second. "Good boy." He had purred, caressing your jaw as he used his thumb to wipe away the blood staining your cheek.

"Hound." His voice is as effective as any physical tug on your leash, making you stop mid punch with your fist inches away from the ex-lieutenant's caved in face. You're covered in blood, the rich crimson bringing out the violence swirling in your eyes.

Yet you look at him with utter adoration he wants to shove his cock deep down your throat just so he can see your tears smudge the blood on your cheeks. "Приносить." He taps his thigh.

You nod your head, grabbing the knife strapped to your thigh. There's no hesitation in your movements as you shove the knife into the ex-lieutenant's throat. An arc of blood spurts across your front when you yank it out just to stab another spot, the man coughing and choking as you cut through cartilage and muscle until with a good yank and a sickening 'crack!' you separate the head from the body.

Makarov had never seen the appeal of large hulking brutes until you — your body had filled back out with muscle and fat nicely after you became his, towering body demanding attention simply by existing as you stand up. The loud stomp of your feet and the blood staining your body making you look like a barbarian, casting a shadow over him before you kneel at his feet, offering the decapitated head as a knight does to his king.

Oh yes, he definitely sees the appeal now.

"Good dog." He purrs, reaching out to stroke your jaw, smearing some of the blood with his thumb. Fingers sliding down to hook on the silver ring on your collar he pulls your head closer. "Do you think you earned a reward?"

It's a test. One you're intimately familiar with. The judgmental stares of Makarov's trusted men are the last thing in your mind when the closeness of his body and the sharp crisp scent of his cologne threatens to shatter your resolve. "Only if you permit it, sir." Your throat feels dry, trying not to show how eager you are for his attention as you place the head on the floor so you don't get a drop of blood on him.

Makarov smirks, "Smart dog," His hands move to the back of your neck, unbuckling the collar. You're no longer ashamed to admit you feel naked as the thick piece of leather is pulled away; the time when you didn't have a collar wrapped around your neck feel like a distant memory and now the sensation of breathing without it pressing against your skin is disturbing. You have to bite your lip to keep the low whine from escaping your chest.

His hand wraps securely around your throat, bringing your breath back to you. Your Adam's apple bobs beneath his fingers as he traces the 'V.M' shallowly carved across your throat. "It's already starting to fade." He tuts, squeezing his fingers to restrict your breathing just the slightest bit more. "We'll need to have it tattooed. That would be nice, yes?"

You suck in a sharp breath, "Yes sir."

"Хороший солдат." He purrs. He pulls out another collar from his pocket and you feel yourself chub up in your pants just at the sight of it. It's the chained pronged one he uses exclusively when he wants you to pleasure him, particularly because it leaves such pretty bruises along your skin when he tugs on the leash.

You eagerly tilt your head back to bare your throat, a shudder rushing down your spine as soon as you feel the cold metal against your skin. You stay perfectly still as he secures around your neck, the sharp pull of the leash making the prongs dig into your skin, prickles of pain making you even harder. "Go on," Makarov hums, spreading his legs wider so your attention falls to the hard bulge in his slacks, his belt undone but the rest left to you. "есть."

You don't think you could enjoy servicing him as much as you did if he didn't let you work for it, the reward made sweeter because you earned it. Truly, he's so good to you, you'd thank him profusely but he hasn't given you permission to speak freely. So you lean in, careful not to get blood on his pants as you take the metal zipper between your teeth and pull it down. You've done this enough not to have any problems undoing the button, your hands obediently planted on your thighs and your gaze firmly on him so you can see the pleased smirk that spreads across his features when you bite the band of his boxers and pull them down until his cock springs out, already hard.

A pleased sigh escapes him when your warm lips wrap around the head of his cock, the leash wrapped firmly around his hand and the slightest tug on it has pain prickling down your spine. "Моя гончая, don't waste my time." You can't help but whine lowly at the admonishment, quickly trying to make up to him by sucking on the tip and licking the slit in just the way he likes it.

His leg shifts, hard boot coming up to grind the sole against your clothed cock. "That's better." The praise makes you moan deep from your chest and try to take more of his cock into your mouth, your boxers wet and sticky against your own cock as you give an experimental hump of your hips against his boot. You scrape your teeth along the vein on the underside of his cock and it earns you a rough grind of his boot. His hand tangles in your bloodied hair and pulls you down until his cock bumps the back of your throat.

You nearly choke from the sudden pressure, trying to fight off the reflex to pull back and gag. "Look at me." His order rings clear in your head, your eyes meeting his as he grinds your nose into his pubic hair, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as your lungs start to burn. You fight through it, the fluttering of your throat making him five a small, rough, moan and fuck — you're hard as a rock.

Just as you feel like you'll pass out on his cock he lets you off, yanking your head back. You're only given a few seconds to take a sharp breath of fresh air before he pushes your head back down. You're prepared this time, hollowing your cheeks and relaxing your throat, swallowing around his hard cock. The way you suck Makarov off is wet and sloppy, stealing ragged breaths when you can as you trace the veins of his cock with your tongue and gently nibble on the base when his cock's fully sheathed in your throat, knowing exactly how to please him. Your efforts are rewarded with the salty taste of precum on your tongue, hearing him occasionally mutter his praises in Russian, none of his words snagging on your mind like sharp orders so you let yourself drift in the pleasure of servicing him, subconsciously grinding your cock into his foot.

But you're not mentally gone enough not to notice the squeaking of chairs, your body tensing as you pull up enough so only his head remains in your mouth, your head turned just enough to throw a sharp glare at the other men in the room. Makarov having his guard down like this makes you tense, violence buzzing beneath your skin from the ingrained need to protect him.

"Hound." Makarov's growl is followed by another sharp tug of the leash, the dull ache of the metal prongs digging into your skin dissipating some of your aggression. "Did I tell you to stop?"

You shake your head as best you can, a pathetic whine escaping your chest from the way the pain makes your cock even harder. Satisfied, he eases the leash, letting you return to your work. His head lolls back, lazily looking at his men. He couldn't care less who sees you like this, but now he wants your full attention on him. "Leave." He gives the simple command.

You track the sound of shuffling feet as you take him fully into your mouth, making him hiss a curse under his breath. Nuzzling your nose into his curly pubic hair you breathe in his musk, his heel grinding firmly and consistently against your hard cock, pleasure pulsing through your veins with such intensity you're worried you'll cum without permission, low whines escaping your throat.

He pulls you off him suddenly, your lungs burning as you gasp for air. You expect him to paint your face with his cum, stake an obvious ownership over you. But he doesn't, pulling you by the leash and leaning down to mash your lips together, teeth biting down on your lip until it bleeds.

Makarov's kisses are rough and demanding, the sweet drug your body's been craving, teeth clicking together and tongues swirling in each other's mouths. The firm grind of his boot against your crotch makes you moan lowly, a sound he happily swallows down and nearly shoves his tongue down your throat. You part far too soon, your body craving much much more, but he doesn't let you stew in the disappointment of a short kiss — it's an owner's responsibility to spoil his pet — mumbling against your lips. "Prepare me."

A full shudder runs down your spine and you surge to follow his order. Makarov loves the determined look you get in your eye just as much as he loves the rough way you grip his hips and hike them up so you can pull his pants and boxers down his legs. Your bloodied fingers grip his hips and pull them down until his ass hangs off the edge of the couch, throwing his legs over your shoulders and he can feel the muscles deep in his back strain as you nearly bend him in half, his hard cock and hole bared for you.

It's a vulnerable position, trapped between your bulky frame and the couch he has no way to escape. And if anyone else were to attempt this he would feed every inch of their flesh to themselves. But Makarov relishes the knowledge that he's in control, a single word from him would make you stop regardless of how hard and wanting you were, your loyalty to him as real as the dead man's blood you dip your fingers in to lube them.

Your fingers circle his hole before you press the pad of your finger against it. Without the heat of battle the cold viscousness of the blood feels disgusting, making him shiver and his rim flutter against your digit. But the discomfort is easily forgotten when you apply pressure, the steady and persistent way you push your finger in forcing his muscles to yield. "Shit-" Makarov clenches his teeth; your fingers are so large just one feels like two of his own, the gnawing pain of your finger pushing deeper just amplifying the pleasure of being stretched open and your other hand loosely stroking his wet cock.

You don't go slower than you need to, perfectly trained to know how to move your fingers to keep him teetering on the edge between pleasure and pain, each shift and slow drag of your finger pulling deep grunt and soft breaths from between his clenched teeth. "Yes, there you go." His praise makes your heart melt and cock throb in your pants, the pull of the leash bringing your lips together in another harsh kiss. You swallow his moans greedily, pushing a second finger in and curling them in search of his prostate, your thumb incessantly rubbing the space between his balls and ass to trap the spongy flesh between your fingers.

He nearly chokes you with how hard he yanks on the leash, hips pushing back into your hand and walls clenching down on your fingers. The stinging ache of being stretched open mixes with the building pleasure, leaving his skin feeling like a live wire. His teeth dig into your lip until it bleeds again, heels digging into your back. He grinds his hips down on your fingers, muttering praises against your lips as you push a third finger in and force him to take it.

He can't wait any more, gripping your hair and roughly yanking your head back. "Fuck me already." He growls, licking the blood staining your cheek.

You scramble to do as you're told, continuing to stretch him open as you undo your belt and pants with one hand, your hard cock bobbing against your abdomen. Pulling your fingers out you scoop up more blood, the cold helping reign in your lust as you lube up.

Before you can do anything he reaches out to grip the base of your cock, his hold firm and just at the cusp of pain. "You'll be good, yes?" He growls against your lips. "Fuck me good and hard?" His hand moves, stroking you slowly, evenly coating the blood along your cock. "I don't need to show you how to use this thing again, do I?" There's a dangerous edge in his voice.

Fear shoots down your spine, mouth going dry. You'd been too eager for human touch when he first let you mount him, and when you came seconds after getting inside him he'd been less than pleased by your abilities. You couldn't feel your cock for a full week after he'd tied you down and used your cock until you couldn't cum, using a cock ring to keep you hard and using you until he was satisfied.

You quickly shake your head. "No sir," You choke out and bare your throat. "I can do it, I'll be good." You promise.

His hold loosens, tugging you by the hair so he can peck your lips, his tongue licking over the small wound he'd made. "Don't fail me now."

You steel yourself like you're going to war, pressing your cockhead to his hole. Your nails dig into his hip, your grip ironclad to keep him still as you pull him down more and simultaneously push in. There's a second of resistance before your head pops in, the pleasure of entering his velvet soft insides being met with sharp pain as his teeth chomp down on your shoulder through your shirt. It all mixes in your brain into pure bliss, your hips bucking up into him automatically until you're bottomed out. You hold him close to you and leisurely grind your hips, letting him get used to the mind numbing stretch.

Fuck— Makarov may see the appeal of brutes but impaled on your cock he feels like he's being split in two, lungs burning and he can almost swear your tip's poking his diaphragm. He chases the pain more than the pleasure, heels digging into your back to give him some leverage so he can push his hips into yours. "Yes," His head lolls back when you slowly withdraw, only to suddenly snap your hips and hilt yourself inside him again. "-fuck, yes!"

The blood keeps you from tearing him apart but there's too little of it to keep him from feeling the painful stretch, the slow movement of your hips making his thighs shake. "Harder," He demands, yanking on your leash and biting your shoulder again. "Make me feel it." His voice is rough with a demand, because men like him never beg.

"Yes sir," You manage, bracing your feet and setting a rough pace, rutting into him like an animal. He muffles his sounds into your shoulder as your cock saws into him, his walls fluttering and clenching around you so tightly it feels like he'll snap your cock off. You do your best to focus on him and his pleasure, but the tight heat of his hole is rapidly melting any control you have, your cock throbbing and leaking precum inside him.

"Sir, please-" You whine, your muscles tight and your balls feeling so full you feel like you'll burst, your voice full of need. "I'm so close."

“Not yet.” He growls, pushing his hips down to meet your thrusts, your hand stroking his cock. “Make me cum first.” He growls.

You hold back a pathetic whine and redouble your efforts, your rough thrusts bruising his ass as you fuck into him, aiming to nail his prostate every time you bottom out. He wails, whole body shaking, his cock throbbing in your hand and leaking a puddle of precum on his stomach.

Makarov cums without any warning, going rigid and biting your shoulder even harder as pearly cum shoots from his tip, his walls clamping down on your cock. "C- cum!" He snarls, voice muffled, and it's all you need. Bottoming out fully you moan as you shoot his insides full of your cum, rocking your hips and grinding your cock against his prostate to prolong both of our highs.

You hold him close as you come down to reality but the way his walls clench around your cock makes you feel like heaven. His hands grip your jaw, bringing you down into a disorganized sloppy kiss. He's boneless in your arms, his walls continuing to flutter around you. "That was good." He slurs, chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath. "Good dog."

The tug of the leash is expected and Makarov kisses the corner of your lips, tongue swiping across your skin to lick up more of the blood staining your lips. "Clean me up." He orders, "Lick up your mess." He growls, and there's not a single part of you that would refuse him.

Tag list: @lieutnt, @pastelclovds @thee-great-enigma @vladimirking24

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tteokdoroki · 7 months

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ೀ⋆OCT 3RD MEAN GIRLS ━━ katsuki bakugou + free use !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. katsuki bakugou + free use. on october third, he asked you what day it was. btw, in girl world, halloween is the only time of the year when katsuki bakugou can slut girls out and no one can say anything about it. boo, you whore! (4.9K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, free use, dub-con, cum-play, voyeurism, humiliation, manipulation, dacryphilia, no prep, public sex(ish), unprotected sex, suprise guest appearance from shouto as aaron samuels, fem!reader, reigina george coded!bakugou.

୨୧ — director’s note. "it's october third." and you know what that means! another nasty kinktober fic for you all! i hope you enjoy this one, its probably my favourite...because uh hello!? reigina george and bakugou? name a more iconic duo! anyways enjoy mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

halloween is the only time of the year where anyone can dress like a slut and not get called one for it.

in the world of the conventionally attractive (or the plastics), the kings and queens of the social jungle, it means ditching the guts and gore in favour of skin tight lingerie with a little fake blood that drips calculatedly through the valley between your breasts — just for a little bit of added attention. it’s the one night of the year where self-objectification becomes acceptable, and you by all means, were not planning on missing out.

for you, a well spent Halloween consisted of tooth rotting candy corn, bad movies and trying to avoid the feeling of fomo (fear of missing out, fyi) building up like fluid in the lungs of a sick person. you’ve been an a-grade loser all your life and you’ve never had the chance to experience a proper friend group, high school, (and now) college experience.

however this year would be different. this year you would be ditching loser-ville for boobs and bunny ears and the shortest dress you could find. because you finally had a friendship group who did these kinds of things and you had an invite to the biggest festive rager hosted by the hottest guy on campus — shouto todoroki.

the rest of your friend group, the college renowned plastics, had warned you not to get involved with the half and half campus jock. he already had relations to your beloved ring leader, katsuki bakugou, and your involvement would be breaking several laws of girl and guy code — according to dumb blonde kaminari (he swears he has ESPN or something). katsuki was the head of U.A. university, ruling over the entire student body with an iron fist, an attitude so mean you’re sure you’ve seen professors cry and a glare so sinister he could turn milk sour if he tried hard enough.

bakugou was the definition of the picture perfect guy and he knew it. it was almost as if his face had been ripped straight from a vogue magazine, his shoulders broad, waist slutty and tiny, abs to die for too — you’d be a liar to say you hadn’t thought about him a few times before bed. katsuki was a king bee (if bees could even have kings) and you were a nobody lucky enough to have been indoctrinated into his group of flawless friends — taken under the guidance of his wing.

your own friends had told you not to fall for the glitz and the glamour that seemed to follow the barbie blonde everywhere he went. but you couldn’t help it, you were enamoured by everything that katsuki did — turned a blind eye to his bitchy persona and twisted mindset. you hardly believed the rumours about him, blissfully ignoring the truth behind the gossip because katsuki was nice to you. just the other night he had been kind enough to offer his help in setting you up with shouto. even if kirishima had tattle told on you.

regardless, katsuki had your back — you knew that. he was even talking to shouto right now, admist the full swing of the halloween party. how could anyone ever hate bakugou? he was so kind, so considerate, treating you like family from the moment you got here. you see shouto look your way fondly as they chatter about you, his lips curling perfectly around your name while he sends you a wave that makes you feel like the only girl in the world.

“she likes you, yanno.” the shorter blonde purrs, the corner of his perfectly plump lips twitching up into a knowing grin. he says your name, glowering at the way his ex perks up at the mention.

shouto blinks slow, mismatched eyes filling with affection the longer he looks at you awkwardly swaying to music you’ve never heard before. “yeah? she does?”

“it’s adorable, really. she writes your fuckin’ name in the corner of her notes with little hearts. even has the name of your future brats written in a cute little list.” the lie slips from bakugou easily, as if manipulating people is second nature to him.

“don’t bother with that, katsuki.”

when todoroki’s gaze on you lingers for too long, he kicks it up a notch pressing the head of his body into his ex’s side. “listen, half ‘n half,” with his eyes dark and sensual, the blonde allows his voice to slip into deeper, more mocking tones — playing up this innocent act. one that shouto falls for every time. “i know that she can be a little fuckin’ weird but, she’s my friend…so be nice, yeah?”

men are such fickle creatures — for all it takes is a pair of sweltering, red puppy dog eyes to drag the jock under his spell. shouto nods slowly, his own topaz and granite eyes glossing over with some form of obedience, a loyalty to bakugou that no one else would understand. “yeah, alright.”

“good,” bakugou purrs, the sound causing his brain to short circuit. “such’a good friend, half ‘n half.” the tail end of his words are replaced by the sloppy sound effect of his lips on shouto’s, tongues beginning to clash and hands possessively gripping waists.

your rose-tinted window shatters at the sight.

background conversation falls away as your friend and your crush begin to make out right in front of your fucking eyes. “you know who’s looking fine tonight, neito monoma.” kaminari squeals, shimmying in his little mouse costume.

“denki, that’s your cousin.” kirishima frowns.

the blonde shrugs. “yeah! but he’s my first cousin…that’s not right is it,”

you don’t have time to dwell on their chit chat — you feel like someone has thrown your entire body out of whack. you feel like you’re drowning as the realisation hits, katsuki bakugou doesn’t give a shit about you or your feelings. storming away from the scene, you make for the nearest bedroom, hurt and confusion swirling around in the tightness of your chest.

“what are you doin’ in here sweetness? ‘minari and kirishima have been looking everywhere for ya.”

you’re still crying like a sore loser when the king of the plastics finds you hauled up in one of shouto’s many rooms. and you hate that it’s katsuki who’s come to comfort you, sitting beside you on the queen sized bed as his hand slips over your bare thigh.

but you shrug him off, barely keeping your cool. after all, you’re still mad at him for making out with your crush. “don’t touch me, katsuki.” you snarl, doing your best to sound menacing. “i saw what you did. how could you? i thought we were friends?”

he clicks his tongue, ruby red eyes rolling as if he gives a fuck. “oh, you mean that thing with icyhot?” you don’t understand how the blonde can be so nonchalant, tossing around the situation as if it weighs nothing — costing not an ounce of your feelings. “he came onto me, sweetness. i’d never do somethin’ like that to you.”

denying katsuki bakugou is never an easy feat, he’s a man that knows where his strengths lie. in the deep timber of his rumbling voice and those eyes, with the blood lust curled around each of his pupils. katsuki is a well trained hunter, and on this occasion, you are his prey. a large hand smooths over the meaty swell of your trembling thigh, pushing the likely pair wide open for him to make room between them. “i’m a good friend, r’member?”

his hands roam your blistering hot body, gripping and grabbing at your flesh from over your costume — it feels good, you feel wanted and melt like a lump of butter in a pan at every cascading touch of his.

you’d be smart to come to your senses, before you’re snapped up in the unrelenting jaws of a hunter. but you’re entranced by those insanely red eyes, the perfect slant to his lips and all-knowing smile — it’d be useless to escape when you’ve fallen this deep. “you’re not…” your bottom lip wobbles, the achy feeling in your chest now submissive to the liquid lust katsuki has spent months conditioning you to feel. “you’re a bad friend.”

“d’aw…you don’t think i am?” dropping his tone into a sultry coo, bakugou leans in real close and you instinctively follow the tilt of his head. he looms over you, just enough so that you can see the smear of pink eyeshadow across his eyelids, the plasticky glisten of lip gloss masking the true colour of his plump lips, along with the spark of lust swirling through the brown flecks in his eyes.

you shake your head no. “no, you’re not.” big mistake.

the of temperature of the room rises just from his proximity and you find yourself willing to let the king of the plastics swallow you whole. “i don’t think i like the way yer talkin’ to me, sweets.” he growls darkly and in warning. “i should make you apologise for bein’ so fuckin’ mean.”

his breath is warm and wet against your cheek, grip rough on your waist and you can’t help but think how mean he is to you. katsuki gaslights you like it’s second nature or another one of his five senses, manipulates you with ease, putting himself on you when you know you can’t say no. because without him you would have been in social suicide, you wouldn’t have any friends, you wouldn’t have had the college experience. you would have just been ordinary.

“gimme a kiss, gorgeous.” the blonde bites down on your lower tip, tugging it away from you because he misses the metallic taste of golden blood on you — the taste of blossoming obedience in your bloodstream.

you push back, but it’s no use — bakugou’s closing the gap before your brain can even catch up, fizzing like candied pop rocks while you sink further into debauchery.

“c’mon…” he forces his tongue past the seams of your lips, bursting through with only the darkest of intentions. you briefly seize up, because your body knows this isn’t what you want, at least not 100%. but katsuki knows how to work stubborn, prude little things like you — squeezing down on your waist heartily as he leads you into a stupid-drunk kiss. “that’s it, there we go…good fuckin’ girl.”

the world tilts on its axis and you grow lightheaded at the blonde’s praise — you should be mad at him for kissing your crush but at the same time, you’ve never wanted someone so bad. mewling against his watermelon and alcohol flavoured lips is like sealing your fate, giving up little pieces of yourself just to appease your ring leader.

“katsuki, i don’t—“

his thumb digs into your cheeks, preventing you from pulling away — not that you’d want to. wet sounds from your kisses vibrate through you and cause a twinge in the heartbeat between your thighs. “i wasn’t askin’, i was tellin’.” he grunts into your drooling mouth, wide open to echo your sweet and pliant voice. it’s with those words that you remember your place, being a plastic requires sacrifices — for you to give up pieces of yourself in order to stay by katsuki’s side.

including letting him use your mind, body and soul freely.

“so fuckin’ pretty when you’re obedient for me,” he’s snarls, hot under the collar and eager to steal more from you. he grins at how your eyes roll back just from a couple of half-hearted words. leaning back, katsuki shrugs off his shirt, revealing his perfectly carved hips and washboard abs, golden skin that only the gods could have blessed him with. the sight of him is enough to make your quivering cunt deep juices into the crotch of your panties. “let’s get back at sho, huh? for playin’ us both.”

the lines of morality and dissoluteness are often blurred when you’re with him — you become a vessel for his pleasure and you don’t even think to mind. somewhere amidst the messy, sensual lip locks bated breaths, katsuki has managed to get you onto your back and tear through your skimpy little halloween costume to suck his claim into your neck. painting you with deep mauve and midnight blue hues. his eyes dilate, roaring obsidian black taking over his mean, rage filled red eyes in a way that lets you know how bad he wants to fuck you.

it’s when the sharp edges of his canines graze your pulse point that you remember just how much of a wild jungle college is. you remember that katsuki has the ability to make your life a living hell, the power to take a bite and rip your throat out at any second. in this world, you are nothing but a meek gazelle and katsuki bakugou the lion ready for a feast.

irrespective of how much the very fact may frighten you, you ignore bakugou’s talons as they sink into your chest and leave indented crescent moons on against each breast. he rips apart the costume you worked so hard on and pushes your hands away from your body when you attempt to cover yourself up. so, from that moment, you let lust slither over your brain so you can arch yourself into him for more pleasure, and remind yourself that even if you're being used — it feels good. katsuki feels good.

you like that he’s a little mean, a mean girl. all teeth and tongue and biting when he licks into you and breaks the strings of honey saliva that tie your tongue to the roof of your mouth. you love how he roughly grabs you by the meat at your hips and tugs you up to meet the grind of his cock against your underwear. you adore how he pulls the very fabric apart like they’re nothing, rolling you onto your stomach and positioning your hips in a way that makes your back arch.

you don’t even realised that bakugou has kicked off the lower part of his costume until you feel the heat of his firm thighs against the backs of your own and the sticky tap of his flushed cockhead on your ass cheeks — smearing white globs of precum over your hot skin. the blonde groans at the visible twitch of your cunt, the way it glistens and spews lightly for him.

“oh sweetheart,” he laughs through the coagulated feeling of prurience in his throat. “so fuckin’ wet for me, hah?” he manages, spreading your ass cheeks apart hungrily, a curious finger running through your slick folds and dragging your wetness over your pulsating clit. “s’kinda embarrassing. barely even touched you.”

the situation is embarrassing, humiliating almost and a fresh set of tears burn at your waterline — mascaras already tracking down your cheeks. you don’t fight bakugou as a muscled arm snakes it’s way around your waist and pulls you onto him until your sex is flush against bakugou’s thick cock — your hearts beating in sync, heavy breathing in tune. his dripping dick slips and slides a through your quivering pussy lips, grinding against the pulse in your clit before easing the mushroomed tip through the tight ring at your entrance.

“f-fuck!” you squeak, a little out of turn. fuckdolls don’t talk. katsuki is quick to growl and remind you, collapsing his entire weight into your body while you take him with ease. no prep required whatsoever. there’s a delicious burn as his girth stretches you wide open and he fucks you with just the tip — a pleasing buzz layering itself over your logical thoughts. the ones that tell you this isn’t right. the ones that tell you that you’re more than just a plastic play thing.

bakugou squeezes your hips harshly when you push back onto him, desperate to be fed more of his cock. “keep fuckin’ still, alright?” the king of the plastics rasps, taunting you as he thrusts all the way into your tight heat with no warning. you ooze at the sudden stimulation, basking in the weight of his dick against the insides of your crying cunt and fluttering walls. “sho’s gonna love this, maybe he’ll really want you then.” he continues to purr, jamming a thumb past your swollen lips to press down on your tongue. his other hand grasps at his phone once lost in the sheets, talking a picture of your teary face while you suck on his digit to soothe yourself.

like a baby sucking on a pacifier as it cries.

sending the photo to shouto, bakugou takes a few more selfies of you like this. his favourite is the one of your face squished between his large fingers, covered in salty tears and sticky drool. “don’t cry sweets. ‘m gonna fix this, help you get together. what are friends for?”

his voice is soft, nose nudging against your cheek in a reassuring manner.

but it’s all too good to be true.

briefly, there’s a second where everything is calm, where the blonde lets you relax around him between gentle juts of his hips forward and affectionate kisses peppered against your skin. you should have realised that katsuki’s pleasure is always above your own. because he suddenly finds the motivation to pull out of your snug, sensual heat to pound into you properly, dragging is seedy cock along all of the spots along your ribbed walls that make you see stars.

you feel like a pocket pussy, only one that comes with crybaby wails and pitiful hiccuped noises. it’s all music to katsuki’s ears, blending seamlessly with the intense base from the party’s music and thump of the headboard smashing against the wall all from the sheer force of his thrusts into you. it’s easy to forget how humiliatingly loud you’re being, you can’t find yourself to be worried about someone catching you either. even if the door is wide open.

why not? because katsuki claims you willingly, over and over again with each brutish brush of his leaky cockhead against your g-spot. “s-suki! please.” you slur around his fingers that fuck your drooling mouth in perfect rhythm with his dick that plunged in and out of your puckered, creamy hole.

“yeah, yeah. i gotcha. give into me, sweetness.”

where he had been keeping you pinned against the sex-soaked cheeks — bakugou pulls his sweaty chest away from your back and adjusts the roll of his hips, letting them crash into you like waves on a shoreline. to support his body weight above you, his toned arms cage you in, head tilted to the side to watch you sniffle on his dick, red rimming your watery eyeline. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cry, sweetheart.” he moans condescendingly against the shell of your ear, painting a chaste kiss against your wet cheek. “what a pretty fuckin’ girl, suckin’ me in… takin’ my cock. oh fuck.”

if you could see him, will yourself from the pillows you take purchase in and use to muffle your salacious screams — you would notice how an evil smirk as spread across the blonde’s lips while he ravages you, fucks you beyond the stars and back. “you my pretty girl, yeah? fuckin’ sweet thing.” the praise has you spiralling and simultaneously soothes the burning hatred you have for katsuki in your chest. “why you cryin’ so much? is it over him, or over me?”

the answer to his question slips out of you faster than your sex-crazed brain can catch up. “o-over you!” it’s like you can’t even think for yourself, make any choices for your body outside of what bakugou has planned for you. you’d do anything to please him so that he keeps fucking you, so that you can forget your feelings and keep your place amongst the socially elite. maybe that makes you selfish, maybe it makes you dumb — that you’re a whore for katsuki’s bully cock that churns up your guts and uses you for ecstasy filled relief.

“y-yeah? mmhm, just like that baby,” katsuki stutters, licking his lips while you throw it back on him. the weak snap of his voice (caused by you clenching down on him) has you gushing nastily down bakugou’s length. bathing him in your juices, dripping down his balls as they clap against your ass, and swing against your clit.

“yeah…yeah…y-you’re my friend, k-katsuki! didn’t wanna lose you…”

satisfied with your response and feeling a little mean once more, the king of the plastics brings a heavy hand down against your ass before gripping it tight, forcing you back and forth on his creamed dick. you hiss at the newfound pain blooming underneath your skin, blinking back more tears.

“that’s right sweets, you’ll let me do anythin’ to keep me right? stay bein’ friends.” bakugou barks salaciously into your shoulder blade. greed and power and control sparks between your bodies that move in sync with one another, your hips shakily attempting to catch up with his rough pace.

you gasp when he hits a spot that’s got you howling at the moon. “y-yes, god, yes!”

“even let me fuck your crush? let me fuck you in front’a him?”

all you can do is nod and gargle in response, passionately sucking on his fingers. “get ‘em nice and wet for me. wanna play with you, gorgeous.” he nips at your skin, leaving the imprint of his canines against you before his red eyes laser focus on where your bodies continually meet. “lift your hips. atta girl.”

a heinous squeal escapes you, borderline pornographic as katsuki fumbles between your body and shouto’s high thread count sheets. his sticky fingers press into your pleasure nub in tight, calculated circles and he rewards the sound of your choked moans with another barrage of love bites to your neck. ones that you won’t be able to cover up. ones that show how much you’ve been used.

you wonder if his appetite for your dedication will ever be satisfied. even though your pussy works it’s way back onto him and swallows his cock down like fucking magic — bakugou still wants more of you. he grins sinisterly at the bruises that form just under your skin, that make you hiss when he licks over them and spills his curse words over against that sensitive spot underneath your ear. the sensitivity makes you yelp loudly, despite the people that walk by.

including none other than shouto todoroki.

“you’d even let him watch as i creamed your cute cunt, wouldn’t ya? so pathetic. it’s adorable, sweetness.” the blonde goads, pulling back so that he can get a better view of your ass bouncing against his slender hips. spreading you apart with large hands, he drools down onto his cock and your asshole, spitting onto the point at which his shaft slips inside of you — watching the white froth mix in with your viscous nectar and disappear into the creaminess of your tight hole.

your crush audibly gasps as he enters the room — mismatched eyes drinking in the view of you being absolutely wrecked from behind by his ex. shouto can’t help but admire your puffy face and equally puffy folds while he settles on the bed next to katsuki. he has no idea how his feet even carried him there.

“bakugou what are you—?”

the tail end of shouto’s words slip away when you clench down hard on bakugou, his head falling onto the latter’s shoulder while you share shaky moans. “oh my god,” katsuki pants, pulsing against your silken walls and driving his dick upwards into your sweltering mound. “you’re fuckin’ obsessed with me. with him. you just won’t let this dick go, will ya?”

admitting that you like shouto watching you get fucked by bakugou would be just as embarrassing as admitting your crush on him. it doesn’t matter if you’re crying too hard to confess the matter with words, both of them know it. they can tell by the way your pussy spasms around katsuki’s bulbous cockhead as it bullies it’s way into you with every thrust. “see icyhot, told ya she was a weirdo,” He chuckles down at you menacingly. “letting me be the one t’stretch her pussy open even though you’re the one that she wants. s’so embarrassing.”

todoroki let’s out a noncommittal grunt, equally amused by the situation like his ex. “yeah… so weird…”

he reaches around to grab at the fat of your waist and tugs you back onto katsuki so that his dick never leaves you. so that your clit is smooshed up against perfect abs, that contract with every thrust and overstimulate you.

maybe it’s not such a bad thing to be used by the king of the plastics, if it means shouto gets to touch you too.

“i think she’s about to cum, katsuki.” the two-toned haired jock states as if it’s obvious, his voice husky and low as the scent of sex trickles into the air. “you’re gonna make her cum, baby.”

“can fuckin’ feel it, she’s ‘boutta make a mess of me.” they share a lustful look behind you, that leads to them sharing sloppy, uncoordinated kisses as if you’re not even there. truly treating you like a sex toy to be used whenever, wherever.

the sounds of their kisses ring in your ears, cause heat to burn at your cheeks and shame to settle in your chest once again. but this time, you don’t fucking care — not when you’re close to cumming, not when both of the people you adore in your life are using little old you.

forcing you back and forth over katsuki’s dick even faster, shouto finds it in himself to address you, moaning out your name. “a-are you close?” he simpers, tongue rolling over his ex’s.

“i— i am. p-please. let me cum. lemme cum. lemme c-cum—!” you chant as if it’s the gospel, voice tapering off into a set of whistle tone simpers as you finally hit your high. black spots dot your vision, katsuki using a last burst of energy to canter into you, slamming against your g-spot over and over again. the dam breaks before your brain can register it, release trickling out of your fluttering hole like a flash flood after a vicious storm. it soaks his soft tuft of blonde pubes and soils the sheets below, your body wracked with shakes and aftershocks.

katsuki's cock against your cervix being the epicentre.

the two men behind you share a sick little laugh when you collapse into the sheets face first, both of them leaning down to kiss either of your cheeks soothingly.

“so fuckin’ cute ‘n loyal,” bakugou coos in a twisted tone, pulling out of you to jerk himself off over your quivering body.

shouto smiles and rubs soothing circles in the small of your back in an attempt to calm you down — taking pleasure in your tiny sniffles and hiccups while you come down from your high.

“your turn, bakugou.” he purrs slightly, using his arm to prop himself up on the bed for a perfect view of you both.

“mmfuck, shit ‘m so close.” colourful curses spew from between bakugou’s perfect, cherry bitten lips just as he hits his peak. slick sounds accompany the movements of his rough palm up and down his length, coaxing himself towards orgasm. he cums with a shout, a feral growl tearing his chest in two with how loud it is. all while ropes of his blistering hot and white cum land on your ass, pussy and back.

he collapses next to shouto after that.

you feel a finger drag through the hot mess on your back and turn around just in time to watch bakugou feed a scoop of his cum to your crush. todoroki sucking his fingers happily. “go get her a towel, icyhot.” he demands, and like a slave to the crown, todoroki follows — disappearing from the room in search for a rag to clean you up with. surprisingly, the blonde helps you to sit up, taking you into his chest so you can snuggle against it. “don’t cry sweetness, s’okay. i forgive you for thinkin’ i was a bad friend.”

tilting your chin up, you’re rewarded with a firm chaste kiss — swallowing katsuki’s moans as he tastes the saltine tears in your lips. “you’ll never do it again, right?”

“r-right…” you reply meekly, flinching at the blonde who boops your nose almost affectionately.

he busies himself with fixing your costume until shouto returns with a wet rag to wipe the cum from between your thighs and the rest of you. you try not to let it get to you when they share another passionate kiss, sucking on each other’s tongues and mussing up each other’s hair until they’re all rosy cheeked and short of breath.

you would be a fool to think that you ever stood a chance with shouto todoroki after tonight.

much like you, he’s just another piece in katsuki’s game of chess. he’ll never escape the toxic cycle of their relationship when things keep going like this.

“you look sexy with your hair pushed back, icyhot.” katsuki says to shouto once they come up for air, ruffling his silky locks out of place. his ruby, crazed, gaze slinks over to you next, a coy smirk playing at his lips. “sweetness, tell him, icyhot he looks sexy with his hair pushed back.”

katsuki bakugou is terrible. evil. conniving. but he’s all you’ve got, even if he is a mean girl.

“shouto…you look sexy with your hair pushed back.”

2K notes · View notes

simpjaes · 5 days

Text

desecration. (s.j)

the one where no gods exist when you’re alone with jake sim.

minors dni !! | if you read it, reblog it.

WORDCOUNT ― 6.4k

PAIRING ― jake sim x afab reader

GENRE ― top/dom jake sim, characters are in their twenties, sub/bratty reader, religious kink/fetish

WARNINGS― mild dub con, desecration of holy a relic, inaccurate descriptions of whatever religion this is– im not doing research for a 5k fic that’s mostly smut, sorry.

NOTE― if you’ve read this before, it’s because I wrote it for mark lee over on my other blog [ncteez]. we wanted to make it jake, and by we i mean me. i wanted to read this as jake. sorry to religious ppl, don’t read this if you don’t wanna be railed by a hot guy wielding a cross.

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― DUB CON. use of the words: whore, slut, for the record, the cross is not raw wood and has a smooth finish, reader is first attempting to seduce the priest through confession lmao, she’s also just a massive whore just like me :), jake is the priest’s son, jerking off, penetration using a wooden cross, unprotected sex, spitting, choking on and/or sucking off a cross, degradation, and name-calling, he’s a godfearing man but also he likes sexual perversions, humiliation, explicitly getting fucked in a church, kind of fingering?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake wonders why you’re always making confessions, time and time again, once a week, every single week….eagerly. Like you’re excited for your sin or something.

Huh.

Then again, once a week his father is expected to listen to confessions from the other churchgoers, even Jake himself is expected to confess. Often he will make up sins that he has committed just to seem as though he has been learning from some sort of mistake. Never would Jake actually tell his father through a confession booth what he has done or is willing to do. He’s an adult, he can confess whatever he wants.

You, on the other hand, you’re working his father to the bone in terms of forgiveness.

Jake’s interest piques at the very idea of a young woman, around his age, wanting to confess so much. Did you hurt someone? Does you hurt yourself? Did you kill someone? Or maybe you’re just caught up in a situation that makes you commit atrocities? He can’t even imagine what one person could be doing to elicit such an eager need of forgiveness so consistently.

Always the first in the box, always with those inappropriate outfits too.

Jake makes his way to the back of the church to complete his duties and, of course, he isn’t surprised to see you enter the confession booth. After all, it is the start of a new week.

Hushed whispers were echoing through the large space and only now does he realize that you almost always confess when the church is nearly empty. You must not be unaware of his presence at all, unaware that he is the son of the priest that you spill your sins to, and unaware that he can absolutely hear you when he walks closer.

He isn’t entirely sure why he is listening. The walls of this church echo any and every sound, and to be fair, the only reason his interest is piqued is because his father was silent from the moment you had entered the booth. All he heard was you. You didn’t seem to start the confession off in a proper manner either, so yeah, maybe it caught him off guard too.

His ears make attempts to adjust to the words coming from the booth, but your voice is coming out in a tone that he has never used himself when seeking salvation. Minutes pass and he still hasn’t heard his father speak a word back to you, not to encourage you, not to stop you. It’s just you, addressing dreams, visions, wants, and needs.

Certainly not confession. In fact, you’re actively sinning, attempting to seduce.

“I woke up shaking, Father. What should I do?”

Jake notes how quiet his father is still, despite you asking him what to do about the dream. His face sours when you continue to speak, this time in a slightly louder tone.

“I just can’t help myself sometimes, I–”

It’s not that it’s intentional, really, it isn’t. If anything at all, Jake is incredibly disgusted by your attempts to dirty talk during a confession. Disgusted that you’d do such a thing, and…maybe intrigued by what you may have said that he wasn’t quite able to catch before. He quietly moves to the other side of the booth, the side where you seem to be spouting off all sorts of things, and he raises his head to listen a bit more.

“You were big, you know? I can’t get thoughts of you out of my head. Have you ever touched a woman, Father?”

Jake leans in further, his body reacting more than his disgust. Unfortunately, his length growing in his pants ceases the moment his father cuts you off.

“Enough.” His father finally stops you from abusing the booth, from abusing him.

Not another word is spoken and Jake does his best to back away quickly and quietly as you exit the booth. Of course, he’s acting as though he is sweeping a corner when he turns to look at you. Eye contact is made and he can feel an intense rush of heat spread across his cheeks.

Ah, so you’re a whore.

His father stays inside of the booth for a long, drawn out, three or so minutes before exiting and all Jake can think about is if you walked out of the church soaked and warm between your legs. It’s not even that Jake is into sinning. He isn’t. His entire life was built around this church, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a man. He has needs just like you do, apparently.

Never would he get what he needs from a woman as dirty as yourself, though, it doesn’t stop him from thinking about it and how your voice sounds when you were actively trying to fuck his dad.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“You’re disgusting.” Jake narrows his eyes at you when you pass by, spitting the words at you with a grimace.

“Excuse me?” You ask, stopping in your tracks and looking back at him just as harshly. You didn’t provoke him to speak to you at all, let alone fucking insult you?

“You think I can’t hear the way you speak to my dad during your little “confessions”?” He takes a step forward as he whispers at you, air quoting the word confession with a roll of his eyes.. “You really think he’s just going to take you up on the offer?”

Narrowing your own eyes, you step closer to Jake to stop anyone else from hearing his little tantrum.

“Wanna tell me why he always listens to my “confessions” then?” You question back, mimicking the air quotes and smirking as you walk away from him, not even letting him answer.

Jake watches as you leave, upset that he didn’t get a rise out of you at all and instead was offered a genuine question that sits in his mind. Why does his father allow you to make a confession after confession if all it is, is an attempt to seduce him? You’re even ashamed of it, it seems, and it pisses him off to no end.

Rushing after you, he is quick to grab at your dress and pull you back.

“Might as well just show up naked with the way you act around here,” He starts with a bite in his tone, dragging you off, down the hall and into a side room that usually remains empty.

He intends to put a stop to this because he’s heard several more of your confessions by his own will and learns that, apparently, your only sin is being a fucking slut.

“You have no place here.” He adds as he closes the door behind the two of you. Unintentionally locking you into a space that he’s directly saying you don’t belong in.

“Acting like you don’t think about fucking. Hah. We both know I’m not the only one,” You laugh, walking across the room with a shrug. It’s not the first time you’ve been reprimanded in a church, and it probably won’t be the last. “Besides, your dad probably thinks about me late at night after tucking your grown ass into bed like a child.”

Jake narrows his eyes even more at you.

“Bet that pisses you off.”

“You’re ridiculous to think he would even want someone like you.” Jake scoffs harshly at you, gut bubbling with annoyance. “To think about sex this often too? I can’t imagine anyone would want to touch such a slut.”

You watch him walk towards you, with his perfectly tucked shirt and his darkened and angry eyes. Being alone with him doesn’t help his argument though because, in all fairness, he’s just as hot, if not hotter than his father.

“What about you then?” You ask, leaning against one of the shelves in the room, running your hand up your legs, and hiking your dress up a couple of inches.

“Your dad with his lingering eyes won’t admit to having ever touched a woman. Yet here you are.” You call out the priest’s lie with a snide chuckle before continuing. Fingers massaging your own fleshy thighs, watching the way Jake struggles with his own lingering eyes. “What about you? You ever fuck anyone?”

Jake grimaces, wrinkling his nose as he watches you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He questions, stomping over to you and pushing your dress back down below your knees.

“Oh!” You laugh, ticking your tongue at him and tilting your head. “You said a bad word. Aren’t you going to ask for forgiveness?”

He stares at you for a few seconds, being face to face with a woman that seems so desperate for any touch has his heart racing. He’s trying to call you out, not turn you on.

“Can’t you act decent? I barely know you and you’re flaunting yourself at me.” Jake bellows, stumbling back from you and examining the way your body is relaxed.

You really seem to be enjoying this.

“You’re the one who pulled me in here. Was it really to argue with me, or were you trying to get to me before Father does?”

Thinking for a moment, Jake realizes he’s the reason this is happening. He could have just let you leave like everyone else, after all, you were attempting to go home. Here he is though, and there you are.

“He would never.” Jake laughs, mocking your attempts to pretend his father would be interested in you.

“And again, what about you?” You shoot back instantaneously, watching the way his words get caught in his throat.

He’s a weak man, truly, because the very thought of what’s under your dress, the very idea that you’re so willing, fogs his brain to the point of almost malfunctioning. It would be so fucking easy if he wanted to.

No one would even know.

Before you even know it, you can feel the air in the room change as he storms closer to you and rips your dress upwards to your waist. Instantly, he’s shoving his hand straight between your legs.

A small yelp leaves your throat followed by a laugh. Perfect.

“I knew it.” You giggle, bumping your head a bit against the shelf at the force of his movement. You can feel the way his palm cups your core and presses in harshly through his silent breaths. “I fucking knew you were dirty.”

“Stop,” Jake demands, bringing his other hand to cover your mouth. “Stop talking.” He continues, already pulling his hand from your core and second-guessing himself.

“If you want it so bad, I’m going to need you to shut the fuck up.”

You nod with a smile against his palm, breathing in when he pulls it back and trusts your ability to stay quiet. He’s staring directly into your eyes as if he’s threatening you. As if he will stop if you make a single peep. A promise that he will probably get you banned from the church if anyone were to find out what’s happening in this room right now. At his darkened gaze, you poke your tongue out, licking his palm and watching him pull back in aroused shock at how unashamed you are regarding your arousal. But, you do stay true to your work and remain quiet once his eyes trail down.

He looks at you as if you’re some sort of monstrous entity, and for him at this moment, you probably are. But even with that, you see what’s growing in his pants before he lowers himself onto the floor. Positioning his face right in front of your clothed pussy.

What a dirty, dirty boy.

Jake can see the wet stain of your panties and all he can do is roll his eyes.

“You’re insane.” He laughs, eyes darting up to your face, looking at you like he wants to shame you. “Getting so messy in such a place, all for men who don’t fucking want you?”

You nod, wiggling your hips at him in an attempt to entice his lips to attach there. But he doesn’t. He just stands right back up to his feet and takes a step backwards.

“I bet if I left you here, you’d chase after me.” He mocks. “I bet you think I’m gonna stick it in you, don’t you?”

Proudly, you smile with a nod. Of course he's going to stick it in. You can see how hard he’s gotten. Sin or not, you know when a man wants to fuck you. Jake won’t be able to resist sooner or later, son of the priest or not.

“Wow,” He laughs quietly, shaking his head at you as he reaches behind a podium and pulls out a large, lacquered wooden cross. “You really are stupid.”

Great, you think as your face falls. He’s definitely about to start preaching to you with that stupid fucking cross. Maybe he will even attempt to perform an exorcism to expel the horny demons out of you.

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes, standing yourself up straight from against the shelf and patting your dress back down into position. “Don’t start this shit.” You’re already preparing to walk out without looking twice at him, but he laughs right back at you.

“You think you know everything.” He chuckles, walking towards the door and locking it. He stands in front of it now, crossing his arms and staring at you.

“Don’t I?” You ask, eyeing the way he presents himself to you right now.

“Did I not just imply that I wouldn’t use my cock on you?” He questions, twitching in his pants at the way you stand before him, much smaller in energy now.

He can tell you’re still trying to act brave, and it delights him to see the realization spread across that pretty, silent mouth.

Oh. Oh.

“You’re going to–?” You swallow hard, realizing that of all the sins you could commit, the implication of being penetrated with a cross, solely so this man doesn’t have to fuck a whore isn’t one you ever thought of.

This room doesn’t even feel like part of a church now as he holds the cross with more reason than praying.

“Yeah,” He assures you. “I am.” Stepping forward toward you and looming down at your face. “Now get on the desk.”

You don’t know why, but your body acts on instinct for him. Immediately walking to the desk and propping yourself onto it.

“Take off your clothes.” He demands again, watching you intently as he stays in place, rubbing the long end of the cross much like he’d like to do for himself right now.

God, watching such a stubborn woman do everything he says is…well, it’s new for him and it ignites a new type of arousal within him.

And you watch him back as you begin to slip your dress from your shoulders, lifting your ass so that you can push it down and onto the floor.

“Oh, now you wanna act shy?” He mocks, walking towards you as you attempt to tug at your panties. “And keep those on. No one wants to see that.”

Goddamn, you don’t even have the decency to wear a bra to service? Lucky for him though, your breasts are enough to drive him past the point of return. There’s no thought, fear, or prayer in his head right now as you reveal yourself to him. Going as far as trying to flash your pussy? Oh, he could laugh.

You stay quiet, doing as you’re told and watching the way he examines you. He must feel so in control right now and you’re happy to let him, but you can see him falling apart behind his eyes.

His cock is incredibly obvious beneath his nice dress pants, but you wouldn’t dare reach out to touch him, not yet at least. You’ll let him have his fun, despite the slight nervousness within you regarding that cross.

“Open your mouth.” He says, dragging the cross against your nipples and onto your chin. “Suck it.”

You almost shake your head at him. Such a hard wood sliding down your throat would surely hurt. It’ll bruise, it’ll fucking suffocate you.

Jake doesn’t seem to care about any of that though, because all he does in response to your widened and fear-stricken eyes is press the wood against your lips with a face of concentration.

You purse your lips, muffling a displeased grunt at his acts.

“You scared?” He smiles first, pulling the cross away and now tracing his fingers along your lips before prying them inside and hooking your mouth open. “Come on, don’t act like you don’t know how to suck.”

You relent this time, feeling the cold and smooth tip of the cross enter past your lips when he resumes his previous assault. It’s not that you are against doing it, you just…haven’t done it before.

You’re not exactly sure of how to respect a holy relic such as this one when you’re expected to choke on it.

“That’s it.” Jake coos, pressing the cross further into your mouth. “Open up real wide.”

You close your eyes at his voice, licking the smoothed object with an intensity you didn’t know you had. After all, it’s been so long since you’ve been intimate with a person, hence the constant wet dreams about your priest. This is somehow, incredibly hot to you. To have his son fucking your mouth, regardless of what object he’s using to do it.

Still, it does hurt. The intricate edges of the cross bruises each time it hits the clenching walls of your throat and mouth, but Jake seems to like the sound of you choking and sobbing around it. After all, he just continues to press the cross further and further in. Probably relishing in the way you try to swallow around it and relax your throat.

His eyes are so focused, seeing how much of it you can take and only imagining how good it would feel if it were his cock choking you right now. Despite your sputtering and crying eyes, you’re taking it so well.

Yeah, you’ve definitely done this before. Probably swallowed up some guy’s cum and begged for more despite still having a cock wedged in your throat. How lucky for them to have someone so desperate to be gagged.

“You’re filthy for doing this, you know that?” He laughs at your pain and how you don’t try to pull at his pushing hand, tipping the cross just a bit so that its hardened wood hits your throat in a way that hurts a bit too much.

You cough around it, only now pushing his hand back in protest. The tears are pouring from your eyes when the cross slides out of your mouth, and all you can do is blink up at him as you try to regain your breath.

Half expecting him to immediately hold your head in place just to shove the cross back in, Jake pulls back instead, tilting his head down to look at your panties.

Your legs instinctively cross to hide your arousal, but he prys your legs open regardless, forcing you to act as the whore you so wanted to be. For his father, for him, for anyone who would be willing, honestly.

You’ve gotten wetter.

“You’re so gross, I can’t believe you get off to this–” He laughs, feeling his cock begin to fucking ache. “You can take more, then.”

No, no. You don’t want to keep sucking it, but your mouth opens anyway. Too turned on by the idea of seeing Jake’s reaction to watching you be so dirty, so blasphemous.

The way he moans when you open your mouth willingly this time is…well, he looks fucking good. He sounds even better.

You take it into your mouth without so much as a second thought this time, allowing him to slide the cross back and forth against your tongue and into your throat. You willingly swallow around the harsh edges, tears falling all the while, of course.

You’re gagging so softly around it, he’s almost jealous over how you wanted his dad before you wanted him. Surely no one would do this for you, right? His father would never be with such a horny, needy, and dirty woman.

Jake though….shamefully, is very into it.

Into you, rather.

When he pulls it out this time, your saliva coats the cross in a way that nearly breaks his brain. Intensely, he stares at your lips, slack and waiting for him to continue his abuse. God, he’s so jealous. To think you would do this with someone else? With anyone? Anything?

It turns him on beyond belief, but feeling jealous of the fucking cross isn’t exactly something Jake wants to admit. His father? Sure, whatever. But a relic he’s prayed to his whole life? Growing resentful of it just because you take it down your pretty and bruised throat?

No.

Jake shifts now, unable to satiate the arousal within him without grabbing your hand and forcing you to grope his hidden cock. So hard, so fucking hard, he nearly lets out his own sob at the euphoric touch when he actually does it.

You’re a bit shocked that he’s letting you touch him, but you take the opportunity and run with it. You press your palm against him without any amount of shame, and all you can do is watch as he hangs his head, the saliva coated cross still gripped in his other hand.

“Bet you wanted to fuck my mouth.” You croak out, your voice sounding just as raw at your throat. “Bet you wanted me to take all of it and beg for your cum.”

His head shoots up in response to that as he grabs your face harshly, bucking against your hand at the same time. “Stop talking.” He seethes, releasing your face and inserting his fingers into your mouth instead. “Stick your tongue out.”

You do as he says, feeling his heavy cock twitching against your palm with each press.

Jake seems like an expert at this, you aren’t sure, but when he presses your tongue down with his fingers to open your throat up, he spits into your mouth so easily that you have no choice but to swallow it.

Well, okay. He could probably get away with doing that a few more times if he wanted to.

You moan when you swallow, lending him a dopey smile that shocks him. You weren’t supposed to like that in his eyes, but when you grab his cock in response rather than just palm at it, he can’t help but moan back at you.

His fingers continue to hold your tongue down as you jerk him off over his pants, and his hips stutter all the while until he loses all composure. Within a second, he stalks even closer, slamming both hands against the desk on either side of you and leaning forward to pin you there.

And then he grinds forward against your weak hand, pinned between him and the edge of the desk.

Yet still, he’s gripping that fucking cross as he pins you here.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, I can see it.” He croaks, not even allowing you to offer him a nod before he’s got his lips attached to yours and he’s licking into your mouth. It feels impossibly better than that cross pressing against the back of your throat but you swallow his kiss just as easily.

His hips continue to grind as he licks into your mouth like a man who doesn’t know how to kiss at all. So rough and messy with it, groaning more and more before he’s nearly a panting mess before you. He pulls back from the kiss only for a moment to stare at you, eye contact more fierce than it was before.

“I think you’re the one who wants to fuck me.” You manage to slip out before he can silence you again, and his eyes narrow instantly.

More than anything, that’s what he wants to do to you. He wants to shut you up in as many ways possible right now, and he definitely wants fucking you to be one of those ways. But he can’t, and he won't.

“Hah–you’d love that.” He laughs, reaching his empty hand between the two of you to press his pants down enough to let his cock spring free.

You can’t even get a good look at it, because he’s instantly grabbing himself and fucking his fist before looking back up at you.

“Go on, look.” He says, leaning a bit so that you can watch him jerk off in full view now. “Bet you’d beg for it if I told you to.”

“Please?” You instantly let out, eyes staring at the angry head of his cock leaking and pulsing.

“I didn’t say to actually beg–” He groans, halting his hand and instead, thrusting his hips into the tightly formed hole he’s created. “I’m not going to fuck you.” He laughs again, now pulling the cross back and into your view with a wicked smirk.

Of course. The cross. Well, at least you’re going to be fucked with something right?

You eye the piece of wood and then go back to watching him. You’re not sure what it is about this situation but it feels like your body is on fire. Maybe it’s because hell is right beneath you, just a floorboard away from what the two of you have gotten yourselves into behind this locked door.

“Oh?” He halts his hips and licks his lips. “You actually want me to fuck you with this?”

You nod frantically, spreading your legs in front of him and showing off how large the spot on your panties has grown since he last inspected it. You watch as his eyes practically burn a hole through your pussy.

Only then does he release his own cock and look back into your eyes. More seriously this time when reality and guilt clicks in his head.

“You are aware of what we are about to do, right?” His confidence falters blatantly as he glances at the cross. “Like, if you ever tell my dad about this, I will be disowned.”

“You think I’d snitch on you?” You roll your eyes, body nearly shaking to get fucked. God, why does he have to stop now?

“Well, since you’re so inclined to confess every fucking day–”

“Jake, you literally just fucked my throat with it.” You deadpan, hooking your legs around him to pull him close enough to feel his cock hit your wet panties. “You’re the dirtiest one here, I’m not going to give that up just to see you get disowned.”

He laughs at you for that. Because yeah, maybe he is. Maybe he’s the one who shouldn’t be in church, and maybe he’s the one who should have been confessing this whole time. Never in his life has he ever done this, or so much as imagined doing it, it’s so perverse. So, wrong. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what’s attractive about it.

For some reason, his cock jumps when you say you’re not giving him up because he’s dirty.

“And–” You soften your voice, trying to lure him. “You don’t have to use the cross, you know.”

“No.” He barks out, pulling his hips back and pressing the cross against you instead. “Now, keep your legs open.”

He gets right back into it without a second thought. He doesn’t care what he’s doing or what the repercussions of doing this will be. It’s not like he wasn’t going to hell before any of this, not based on the fantasies he’s had anyway.

Jake hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down your legs harshly, to the point that they’re stretching so far that it feels like they could cut through your skin. He backs away for a moment upon seeing you grimace at that, allowing you to slip them down your legs before positioning himself back between them.

“I’m dirty?” He says, looking at your pussy and the way it clenches around absolutely nothing. He sees the slick seeping out of you already, and it’s not only pathetic but so fucking desperate of you. “Fucking look at that.”

You smile at it, knowing that he’s degrading you but absolutely loving the view if his focused eyes are anything to go by.

Before the cross, he experimentally traces his fingers along your folds until he gets to your hole, and without hesitation, he slips one of them in. The grip of your walls alone could probably send him over the edge if he were to make a last-minute change and shove his cock into you, but he holds back. Instead, he traces the cross against you in the same way he did with his fingers, slowly inserting it alongside his digit.

Pulling back, Jake watches your face as the cross opens you up, probably dragging against your walls uncomfortably as a reminder of the ultimate sin you’re committing with him right now.

When your face doesn’t contort into that of pain, he pulls his finger out of you and places his hand back on his cock. Still staring at your face, he fucks the cross in and out of you. Relishing in the sound of how wet you are for this, and for him to give it to you.

He does this until, finally, you moan.

Upon that little whimper of a moan, Jake is sent into a different headspace. One that quickens his pace with the object inside of you, one that tightens the grip on himself.

Now, oh now, he’s playing for fun. He presses it in and then pulls it all the way out just to see your pussy beg for more. Holding back a moan over how fucking hot it is to see, he opts to coo out at you.

“Bet it would feel so good.” He breathes, trying to ignore the shiver that shoots through his body at the way you yearn for it. “Could shove my cock right in, you’d just take it, wouldn’t you?”

Before you can answer, he’s thrusting the relic right back into you. In, out, in, out. Deeper, harder, fucking faster. And he offers the same for himself, tightening his fist, nearly abusing his own cock at the sight of your swollen hole swallow up the wood. Really, he makes a point to fuck himself just to imagine it’s you that’s squeezing him.

If he thinks hard enough, it really is almost like he’s the one fucking you.

He keeps this up for a few minutes, up until your legs are shaking around him and you begin to reach out with your hands. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s incredibly fucking horny right now, he’d probably be rushing for the altar to save you from whatever demon is possessing you.

But, he knows that this is no demon, this is all his own doing. He’s loving it. Every single bit of this situation is being burned into his memory, and when your legs shake, it only urges him to fuck the object into you harder.

You whimper out strings of nonsense, almost begging for a release from this grasp he is holding over you both physically and mentally, but he doesn’t relent. Your pathetic cunt is being pounded by an object that should have you crying in fear, but instead, you’re so close to release you can only beg for more, more, fucking more.

And god, he keeps giving it to you.

In an attempt to open your eyes, you feel dizzy with lust. Your hips buck up against the object with intent, and you can’t stop watching him.

“Goddamn.” Jake stutters a sin, watching you fuck yourself against the holy relic. Thankful to rest his arm and be able to just…watch.

And oh, he’s watching and intensely imagining that it’s you on him. He can’t stop thinking about how fucking warm you must be, how tight, how sinfully delicious your pussy must be for you to be acting like this. And that thought is what forces him to lose it.

You were so focused, on the verge of your orgasm when you feel him practically tear the cross out of you, dropping it to the floor before – oh fuck.

You feel him. Something bigger, something thicker ramming into you. He’s prying you open more than he did previously, already pumping in and out at a frantic speed. Instantly, you cling onto him with a bruising grip, listening to his shameless moans as he realizes the lack of control he has over his own body or thoughts.

Jake practically falls over you in euphoria as you cling, forcing you to fall back against the desk as he relentlessly plunges his hips. His breath is heavy against your neck as he loses himself, and all you can do is thank the same god you just disrespected for this cock that’s abusing your hole in all of the right ways.

“I can’t–” He groans out against your ear, his hips not stopping their relentless assault. “You’re so fucking dirty.” He insults, pushing you up the desk with each thrust. “So good.”

You can barely make a sound from the force behind his hips, only small yelps leaving your throat each time he slams in. And fuck, you want nothing more than to rub your clit right now. You could cum all over him, you could really make him feel good.

And as if your prayers are answered, Jake apparently knows exactly how to pleasure a woman. Hm, curious. He knows how to do it fucking well too, as you feel his fingers rub against the swollen nub in the exact same way you would right now. Painful, intense.

The fact that he wants you to cum is delicious.

Your orgasm hits you almost instantly, pussy sucking in him each time he goes to thrust, and the sounds coming from your throat could be considered demonic by some, but he swallows them up with ease when he notes that you’re cumming all over him.

Jake licks into your mouth, soothing you with dirty words when he pulls back to breathe.

“You should see yourself–” He pants out, sticking his tongue out to lick against your lip. “Getting me all messy too?” He says again through a moan. “You’re beautiful.” He adds like a period at the end of a sentence.

That alone makes you feel…different. In fact, it prolongs your orgasm far past sensitivity when he continues to thrust into you. You can’t tell if he said that because he’s close, or if it’s because he meant it.

Quite frankly, you could give less of a fuck if he meant it.

Jake stutters his hips when you lift your head just slightly, gripping his hair and skewing his head to the side so that you can whisper into his ear.

“Want me to beg for your cum?” You whisper with a shaking voice. “You’d love that too, wouldn’t you? I know I would.”

His eyes squeeze shut as he aggressively turns his head and, once again, pries your mouth open with his tongue. A bruising kiss follows as he fucks his last few thrusts into you, doing just as you implied he should.

He pumps his cum into you relentlessly, thankful that it’s not all over his pants and entirely milked into that sinful cunt of yours. Thankful that you also got off around him instead of that forgotten cross on the floor.

He wants nothing more than to remind you time and time again who got to you first. It was him, not his father.

You smile at him when he pulls back out of breath, examining his pants before stuffing his sensitive cock back into them and reaching down for the cross.

“If you ever fucking tell my dad about this–” He seethes out of breath, trying to pretend that he can regain composure so soon after fucking you the way he just did. Still, he narrows his eyes at you much as he had done before.

“Go on.” You say, voice shaking as you try to grasp back onto reality from whatever world his cock had sent you into.

Jake is at a loss for words, because, what could he possibly do about it if you were to tell? He looks at you, still spread out against the desk, dress crumpled, his cum seeping out of you in a messy show of how much of an absolute whore he forced you to be.

“Just, don’t tell him.” He finally says, averting his eyes from you and looking at the cross in his hand.

“Do you feel bad already?” You ask out, finally lifting to get off of the desk.

“Don’t you?”

You shake your head, struggling to stand as the seething pain of having a wooden cross stuck into you shoots through your body. “Not really.” You try to laugh, but you wince instead.

“Yeah, I figured you’d probably be hurting after all of that.” He finally says in a somewhat apologetic tone, walking up to you with a soothing hand.

You’re a little shocked by his kindness.

“Yeah, a little.” You laugh it off though because, at the moment, it felt good. You wouldn’t have wanted it any other way despite how blasphemous the act was.

“Oh.” Jake seems sorrowful in his tone, but his gaze doesn't leave you. “I- um, I don’t know how to make it like, not hurt?” He scratches the back of his head.

In your attempt to put your dress back on, you do note that the pain inside of you isn’t unfamiliar. You’d been fucked hard before, but that was a long time ago. You missed this feeling, realizing that it was exactly what you think you needed.

“It’ll pass.” You assure him, taking a deep breath and trying to stumble your way to the door. “I guess I’ll see you later, then?”

Jake dips his head with a small nod, feeling guilty for what he’s done. Not because of the cross, not because of the sin, but because he’s unsure of how to pretend like he wouldn’t want to do it again.

#enhypen smut #sim jaeyun smut #jake sim smut #jake smut #enhypen hard hours #enha smut

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cordeliawhohung · 22 days

Text

here's that one ghoap x reader one shot i had posted the idea for a bit ago

johnny has an easy smile and an aura that tells you he wants something significantly more than just his pleasure alone. it isn't until he's got you face first in the mattress that you realize you've bitten off more than you can chew.

cw: alcohol, smut (oral f!receiving, unprotected p in v) consensual to dub-con, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, slight dumbification of johnny

2.4k

Usually, you never gave your name out so easily to any man who sauntered up to you at the bar, but something was different about this one. Maybe it was because of that odd glint in his eyes; a deep rooted lust poorly obscured by a pretty blue tint. Maybe it was because he looked terribly lost in a very cute way, like a puppy trying to find its owner. Whatever it was, it had your name rolling off your tongue faster than you could stop it, and it made the vodka in your drink taste as sweet as syrup.

His name was Johnny, and he had an easy smile that was too contagious for you to even attempt to keep up your stone cold expression. He nursed a simple pint, but didn’t seem nearly as interested in it as he was you. For all his smooth words and sharp wit, he didn’t seem to concern himself at all with attempting to hide the fact he had been undressing you with his eyes for the last half hour. The only reason you even allowed him to do so was because how warm it made you feel, rather than disgusting and violated. It was almost like a promise he was looking for something far greater than his own pleasure that night.

Eventually your drink went down as easy as water and everything else began to melt away. The dim glow of the ambient lighting made Johnny appear even more alluring as he entertained you with some outlandish story that you were certain was mostly made up, but you didn’t care. He was nice to look at, and as you smiled and nodded along with his words you couldn’t help but wonder if his hair was as soft as it looked.

“Wanna get out of here?” he suddenly suggested after you both were several drinks in.

His proposition nearly had you laughing, and had it been any other man on any other night you certainly would have. As cute as Johnny was, it was impossible to deny the sweet puppy charm he had about him, and you didn’t know why it lured you in as well as it did. Visions of what could possibly wait for you that night began to unfold in your mind, and you found your hips shifting on the stiff barstool as your eyes flickered to the stubble on his jaw. You wondered how that stubble would feel on the insides of your thighs.

“I don’t know…” you pondered, but your tone was far from sure. If anything, it was tempting; as if you wanted him to try and push more.

“You sure?” he questioned with a raised brow.

Before your reply could leave your lips, Johnny stole your breath away with a single brush of his fingers against your thighs. It all seemed a little juvenile, being touched in a bar as if you were two horny teens who couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves. Still, you would be lying if you said you didn’t want him to push just a little further as his hands grabbed the meat of your inner thigh like he claimed a prize.

“Don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

What exactly transpired after he said that phrase that had your lips crashing against his was something you couldn’t quite recall, but you quickly realized you didn’t really care. The sour taste of beer was hot on your tongue as your thumb rubbed against the stubble on his jaw. He was the most intoxicating thing you had on your lips that night, and when his teeth nipped at you, you knew there was no way you could ever say no to his proposition.

As Johnny pulled out of that sloppy, drunken kiss, you didn’t take notice of the way his eyes flickered away from you. You didn’t realize how his attention landed on a large, looming figure that sat tucked away at one of the tables in the far side of the room. While the man’s face was shrouded with a silly skull mask, his gaze spoke volumes; it screamed something that Johnny had been craving that entire night.

Approval.

As it would turn out, there were plenty of things you didn’t notice that night. You didn’t notice the two pairs of boots by Johnny’s front door, or how their sizes were so different. You didn’t notice how his bedsheets had the faint aroma of cigarettes woven in the fabric despite the fact you had not tasted a hint of tobacco on his lips when you kissed him. Or maybe you did notice and you just didn’t care. It was difficult to care about anything with Johnny’s face buried in your cunt.

The sound of his moans rivaled that of your own, and it was downright obscene when accompanied by the wet smacking of his lips on your clit. He ate you out with a fervor you had never experienced with any other man, like he attempted to unravel you with his tongue alone. When your fingers weaved through the thick strands of his hair, that only seemed to prod him to do more. He sunk two thick fingers into your cunt and relished with a guttural groan at how your muscles squeezed at him.

With his fingers and tongue working in tandem, it didn’t take you long to come. That blistering heat tore through your body with vicious revenge. Johnny’s chuckle got lost in the heat of your skin as he eventually weaned himself off of your cunt and planted a trail of kisses up your body until he reached your lips once more. You could tell by the way his tongue slipped into your mouth that he was far from finished with you, and so when you felt his hands on your hips gently prompting you to turn over, you didn’t fight him on it.

Your hands and knees sunk into the mattress as you did your best to put on a show for Johnny. Back arched, ass up in the air, hips swaying side to side as if he needed any further enticing. His hands palmed and squeezed at your ass while he pressed himself against you. The fabric of his jeans felt odd and rough against your cunt — as Johnny was too impatient to taste you in order to take them off — yet you grinded back against him anyway.

“Gorgeous,” he cooed. Rustling clothes sounded behind you as Johnny worked off his shirt, followed by the metallic zipping of his pants. “Gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy, aye? Wanna see if she feels as good as she tastes.”

Your fingers curled into the bed sheets as Johnny’s cock sunk into you. The thick, wide stretch of him had your mind running blank. Even still, your mindless state had your body rocking back against him where you swallowed the rest of his length whole with a wanton whine. Johnny’s fingers dug into your hips at the stimulation, and you could feel the aching want exude from his body; as if he had to hold himself back lest he rip you to shreds like a badly behaved dog.

“Bleeding Christ,” he hissed, hips grinding against yours. “She feels so good, bonnie. So fuckin’ good.”

When Johnny’s hips pulled back just to slam against yours again, you knew you weren’t going to last long. With your nerves already frayed from your previous orgasm, this upcoming one wasn’t buried deep at all. It was right there, lingering just underneath your skin with its tendrils snaking up towards your mind, smothering any coherent thought you attempted to conjure. There was no need for rational thinking, anyway. Why would you need to question the heavy approaching footsteps or the dark rumbling chuckle behind you?

“Bein’ good, Johnny?”

The voice that spoke was unfamiliar, and it certainly didn’t belong to Johnny. The deep baritone of it caused your breath to hitch in your throat, yet it was impossible to hold back your moans as Johnny continued to fuck you like it was no big deal.

“Of course I am,” Johnny panted in response, “just listen to her.”

“Not good enough to wait for me,” the man countered.

“Couldn’t wait. Not when she was sittin’ so pretty f’me.”

No, something was wrong. Someone else was there with you, watching as Johnny fucked you into the mattress like an animal. As a wave of panic settled in your chest, you pushed against the bed as you attempted to look over your shoulder, yet it was of no use. Johnny’s relentless pace made it impossible to do anything but slip and slide forward until your face was nearly being smothered into the pillows.

“Johnny?” you asked, voice pitchy and raw.

“Right here, bonnie,” he replied as his hands snaked around your front to paw at your chest. “Fuck, you sound so pretty sayin’ my name like that. Not gonna last much longer if you keep talkin’ like that.”

Even if your brain was capable of coming up with a response to his mindless ramblings, your words surely would have gotten caught in your throat as Johnny’s hips suddenly faltered. His body moved away from yours with a slight jerk, as if someone had yanked on his head, but you could still feel his pathetic attempts to pump his cock into you as he whimpered.

“Nuh uh,” the new man — whatever his name was — chastised. “You don’t get to come until she does, yeah?”

Johnny’s forehead suddenly crashed against your back as his thrusts picked up pace once again. The hands that were pawing at your chest quickly wandered down to your clit, and your body nearly convulsed at the violent stimulation. You gasped as you tried to rip his hand off of you while the tingling sensation of your impending demise started to crack your body to pieces.

“Wait, Johnny please,” you babbled. You didn’t even know what you were trying to ask of him. To stop? To explain who that strange voice belonged to? How were you supposed to get those words out when he fucked you like a wild animal?

“I know, I know,” Johnny shushed. “I just need one more out of ya. One more then Simon will be satisfied. Please, just one more bonnie, s’all I want.”

A part of you wanted to hold back, to deny him that satisfaction, but it was impossible. He had already built you up so high that it was all too easy to kick out the support beams and watch you tumble. Johnny ripped your orgasm from your body with deft hands sending tremors throughout your body that forced your eyes to squeeze shut tight. It was searing — all consuming — like you were now bound to the man who fucked you and the stranger who egged him on.

Johnny’s cock slid out of you once your whining had calmed down, but it wasn’t long before his grunts picked up again. Without his hands to hold your hips in place, you crashed forward onto the mattress with a wince before slowly turning on your back in an attempt to face him.

The view that consumed your vision was enough to stun you into submission. Perspiration coated Johnny’s body with a glistening sheen, and he looked like a god as he sat in front of you on his knees. But he wasn’t alone. A large and brutish man stood at the end of the bed where he held Johnny against his chest by his hair. A black skull-patterned mask obscured his face, but you could make out the darkness of his eyes clear as day as he muttered into the man’s ear. You couldn’t hear what he said over the sound of Johnny’s whining, as the man had his arm snaked around to his front where he tugged at Johnny’s cock using your wetness as lube.

Before you had the chance to muster a single thought, Johnny came undone. His cum spilled out of him in heavy bursts, falling along your thighs and stomach as the man continued to work him through his end. Had you not been so confused and scared, you would have made a face at the odd, sticky feeling that tainted your skin. Instead, you laid there in silence as the man shoved his cum-coated fingers into Johnny’s mouth.

“Such a messy pup,” he hummed while Johnny licked his fingers clean.

When the man turned his attention to you, you wanted to just melt into the bed. To vanish into thin air. To be anywhere else that wasn’t under his gaze. His eyes swept over you in a quick assessment before he pushed Johnny’s head toward you with a simple shove.

“Clean her up,” he ordered.

And he did. Johnny’s feverish tongue lapped along your legs and torso, cleaning up the remnants of his cum on your body. But you didn’t feel clean. You felt dirty and confused; used even.

“Did I do good? I made you come twice, didn’t I? Please tell me I did good, bonnie,” Johnny begged.

With your body cleaned with his tongue, his nose nuzzled against the inside of your neck as he covered your body with his. As an instinct, your arms wrapped around him as if he was the only support you had. If you couldn’t hide away in the bed, then you’d certainly try to hide away under Johnny, as useless as it was. You made the mistake of making eye contact with that stranger, and his eyes looked like a warning. Like you shouldn’t dare to tell Johnny he was anything less than great.

“Y-You did good, Johnny,” you said, voice meek and trembling.

“Did ya hear that, Simon? She said I did good,” Johnny repeated, relishing in your approval. “Thank you, bonnie, thank you…”

The man — Simon? — walked around the edge of the bed to get closer to you and Johnny, and you found your grip on him tightening. That night had seemed like a good idea back at the bar when you were a few drinks in, but you couldn’t ignore the way your heart felt like it tried to tear itself to shreds. Simon reached his hand for the back of Johnny’s head where he gave his hair a good ruffle, yet when he spoke he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

“Good pup.”

#ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghoap x reader smut #cod smut #f!reader

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livyjh · 7 months

Text

Hunger

Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: on a patrol near Jackson with Joel, you run out of food and have to make do with whatever you can find. Eating the wrong thing makes you both feel… different.

A/N: Here’s another one shot unrelated to Temptation :) I really wanted to write a sex pollen thing with Joel and here it is!!

Warnings: sex pollen/sex poison, smut, dub-con based on the nature of the sex pollen/poison trope, talk about being hungry/eating, unprotected p in v (don’t do this), masturbation, rough sex, angry fucking, being mean to each other, Joel calls you a slut, choking, hair pulling, quick mention of blood/taste of blood, nipple play, spanking with object, anal play, creampie.

Joel Miller Masterlist

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

“I’m fucking starving.” You sigh, walking alongside Joel in the forest.

You were on day two of a three day patrol route, tonight you’d stay in some cabin in the middle of nowhere. Tomorrow you’d return to Jackson.

“Drink some water. It’ll hold ya over.” Joel sighs back at you. “Or pick some mushrooms.”

You scoff at him. “Very funny.”

“I thought so.” He chuckles quietly.

You roll your eyes, trudging through the humid spring weather. “Are there any edible flowers out here? Shit, I’d eat tree bark at this point.”

Joel shakes his head. “Don’t know much about the plants out here.”

You frown. Until…

“Oh my god.” You gasp and run to a bush you spotted about 10 yards away.

Joel calls after you, using your name to try and get your attention. But it doesn’t work, you were laser focused.

On a tall bush, almost as tall as you, there were berries. Ones that looked… like a raspberry, or a blackberry, but they were orange. You weren’t a hundred percent sure, but, you feel like you remember maybe eating these before.

“Joel!” You wave him over and he walks faster to get to you.

“What?” He sighs, putting a hand on his hip.

“These are edible.” You smile at him, then look at the bush, then back at Joel. “I think.”

He rolls his eyes and begins to walk past you.

“Joel, I know you’re just as hungry as I am. And I swear I remember eating berries just like this before. They should be fine.” You reasoned with him.

He turns back to face you. “Fine. Eat a couple.” He shrugs.

You gulp and stare at the berries for a few seconds before plucking a few and putting them in your mouth. You start to chew and soon scrunch your nose. They’re tart. Not quite sour, but very tart. You couldn’t give a shit at this point.

“They’re good.” You smile at Joel and pull more berries from the bush.

He walks over and picks a berry, bringing it up to his nose to smell it before finally putting it in his mouth. He starts to chew. “These are not good.”

“Quit complaining. It’s food. If those goddamn squirrels hadn’t gotten into your pack that you just left lying around for an hour…”

“You’re the one who fell asleep while you were s’posed to be watchin’ our shit, I was hunting.” He sneers at you.

“That’s because you talk in your sleep and I barely got two hours last night!” You scoff at him.

“Swear to god, if I die by some fuckin’ berries after all the shit I-“

“You’re not gonna die, Joel. Don’t be such a pussy.” You laugh and keep plucking berries and putting them into your mouth.

He sighs and breaks off a small branch, picking a couple more berries and eating them. “Reminds me of pineapple… except, not good.”

You shake your head and keep eating, ignoring his complaining for the next ten minutes while you both gorge yourself on the fruit.

“Should be getting to that safe house in the next hour.” Joel nods at you as you both continue walking, bellies full and satisfied.

A half hour passes and you feel like your skin is too hot. Your clothes are too hot. It was humid, but… it was only maybe 60° out. You shouldn’t be sweating like this.

Joel was on the same page, having taken his light jacket off only ten minutes into continuing your walk to the cabin.

“Joel…” you speak cautiously.

“I don’t feel good either.” He sighs.

“What should we-“ you start.

“Just gotta let the body process it. Or reject it. Whichever comes first.”

You both let out long sighs and keep walking.

15 more minutes and there’s a dull ache in the pit of your stomach. Lower than that, actually. It feels like where your uterus is.

You notice that Joel is breathing heavy, sounding more and more labored.

“Down… uh,” Joel glances at you and then stares for a second. “Down this trail here.” He points to a spot a few yards up where the main road diverts to a slim trail, barely noticeable if you hadn’t been looking for it. It was overgrown.

You nod at him, feeling warmth bloom in your chest and face. You follow him down the trail for a couple minutes when you come across a large fallen tree.

Joel climbs over it easily with his long legs. You? Not so much.

You struggle for a moment as you try and get your footing on a branch start on the side of the log, but you can’t.

“Jesus, give me a fucking hand, will you?” You snap at Joel.

He rolls his eyes and reaches out a hand to help you over the tree.

The second you grab his hand, you feel a jolt of electricity run up your arm and straight to your core. You couldn’t pinpoint what was going on. You felt irritable… angry… but all you could think about after getting over that log, was how Joel’s skin felt against yours.

You approached the cabin just a couple minutes later. You both walk inside and set down your bags before Joel disappears into the bathroom.

You hear the faucet start to run. You’d forgotten this place was connected to water… just didn’t have a working water heater.

You sat down in a recliner in the living room and involuntarily moaned when a spring under the thin recliner padding pressed against your heat through your jeans.

“Fuck.” You breathe.

You wait only ten to fifteen seconds before you figure Joel is gonna be awhile and you stick your hand down your pants. You start rubbing your clit furiously, hoping for some fucking relief before Joel comes back.

You’d go upstairs to the loft style bedroom so at least there would be a delay in Joel catching you like this, but you think rubbing your thighs together while going up stairs would make you cum anyways.

“Fuck it.” You whisper to yourself, dipping two fingers into your cunt. This is probably the wettest you’ve ever been.

In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d soaked through both your panties and your jeans by now.

You hear a low grunt come from the bathroom over the sound of the faucet and it only spurs you on. Was it because you were horny out of your mind, or did that sound sexual?

A moment later, the faucet turns off and you quickly pull your hand out of your pants and wipe the wetness on the side of the recliner. Just in time too, as Joel walks out of the bathroom a second later.

He spots you on the recliner, leaned back, eyes hooded, legs spread, and something in his face changes.

He looks furious, but… helpless.

You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, the sensation making your whole body tingle. You look Joel up and down, feeling more wetness pool between your legs.

God, you normally didn’t get along great with him, but… you’d kill a hundred men just to have his cock inside you right now.

“Something’s wrong.” Are the first words said in that moment. Spoken by Joel.

“No shit, Sherlock.” You breathe hard, standing up.

“Don’t you fuckin’ mouth off to me.” Joel spits, stepping closer and pointing a finger at you.

You push his finger out of your face, another jolt of electricity moving through you at the skin contact. “What are you gonna do about it, old man?” You seeth.

Joel then grabs you by the throat, pushing you against the nearest wall. You can’t help but whimper at the feeling, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Shut up.” He frowns.

“Make me.” You test him.

His grip on your throat tightens, his other hand moving up to grab the hair on the back of your head. He tilts your face up by pulling down on your hair and you squeeze your thighs together, moaning despite him choking you.

You reach down into your own pants again, needing just a little relief from the searing pain and pleasure coursing through your clit.

Joel whimpers at the sight of you, his face darting down to yours and crushing your lips together.

You growl into his mouth and bite his bottom lip, and then you taste blood. He grunts and pulls back, looking down at the tank top you were in, grabbing the front with both hands and ripping it from top to bottom. You shrug the ripped clothing off, reaching behind yourself to undo your bra as you look up at him.

His eyes are damn near black. Pupils blown as wide as you’ve ever seen. He’s panting and leans down to kiss you again, despite you having bit his lip too hard on the first one.

His hands drift up your hips and over your breasts, quickly stripping you of your bra. He leans down immediately, taking your right nipple into his mouth and biting just enough to get you to squeak out a moan.

“Joel-“ you cry out as his fingers tweak your left nipple.

“What?” He asks harshly.

“Fuck me, goddamnit. Don’t have time for this shit.” You snap back.

“Take your fucking clothes off.” He barks the order as he backs up and starts to unbutton his own shirt.

He watches you with dark eyes as you slip your boots off, then your jeans, then your mostly soaked panties.

By the time he’s got his shirt off, you’re completely naked, staring at the tent in his jeans. You reach down and start to fuck yourself with two of your fingers. Joel undoes his belt and rips it from its loops in one swift motion.

You stare at him with doe eyes as he folds the leather strip in half before grabbing your wrist and pulling your fingers out. He growls and grabs you by the shoulders, moving you to lean over the arm of the couch. Lightning fast, he undoes his zipper and pulls himself out. You don’t even have time to look back when a *crack* fills the room and your ass stings painfully.

“Did I tell you you could do that?” Joel smacks your ass with his belt again.

“I told you to fuck me, already!” You screamed at him, looking back.

“Careful what you wish for.” He growls and lines up, pushing into you in under a second.

“Fuck!” You clench around him involuntarily, hearing his belt buckle hit the ground. This gave you a little relief from having to experience even more pain than you already are; between the whips of the belt and the way Joel is stretching you out.

“You asked for it.” He grunts and starts with fast, rough thrusts.

“Yeah, I know.” You spit the words at him over your shoulder.

“Show me some goddamn respect.” His cock hits the sweet spot inside you as he speaks, making you whimper loudly.

One of his hands is gripping your hip, the other reaching around your front, under your arm, gripping your breast harshly. He was holding onto you for dear life and you couldn’t get enough of it.

You’re hissing through your teeth at almost every thrust as the sound of his hips slapping your ass fills the room.

Joel doesn’t let up, his hands in bruising grips on your body. The hand on your breast moved to the front of your throat, gripping it, slowly cutting off your blood supply. He pulls you up against his chest, the new angle of your hips helping him get deeper as he fucks up into you.

“More!” You shout at him, fingers tapping the back of his hand on your throat.

He tightens his grip on you, you’re starting to see spots when your cunt pulses around him and you squirt your release all over his cock. “Fuck!” You gasp, tears forming in your eyes when Joel finally loosens his grip on your neck and you gasp for air.

You sob a string of curses as your orgasm washes over you, but Joel doesn’t stop. His hips begin to stutter and you know he’s got to be close.

You reach down and fiddle with your clit, wanting to cum again already.

“You’re a freaky thing aren’t you?” Joel asked, replacing your fingers with his own. “Bet you’d let me do anything I wanted. Fuckin’ slut.”

You nod as tears roll down your cheeks.

“Gonna let me cum inside you?? Fill up this tight pussy?” He whispers against the shell of your ear.

“Y- yes!! Fuck, fucking do it!” You grind down against his cock and fingers and suddenly you’re both losing it.

Joel’s fingers and hips stutter as he pumps his load into you, your cunt milking him for all he’s got. He keeps moving until his hips and back start hurting.

His dick is still hard as a rock when he pulls out of you. And there was no end in sight for you, you think you could cum ten more times and not be satisfied. You didn’t know at this point.

Joel moves around you and sits on the couch, cock in hand. His wet strokes are music to your ears as you maneuver yourself into his lap, facing away from him, each of your legs on the outside of his.

You can feel your own slick and his cum mixing together and leaking down to your asshole as you lean back against Joel’s chest.

“Fuck me again.” You pant.

“Shut up.” He spreads his thighs to make yours even further away from each other, reaching around and looking over your shoulder as he pushes two fingers into you.

He collects the wetness and starts rubbing up and down your slit, his thumb repeatedly brushing over your bundle of nerves.

“I told you I don’t have t- time for this, Joel.” You cry as you start to grind up against his hand with each downward movement of it.

“And I told you to shut up.” He growls and bites your earlobe. He can feel you dripping on him and he grabs you by the waist and folds you forward, making you put your hands on the coffee table for balance and support.

He lines himself up and pushes his cock into you, his fingers still covered in your juices moving to the hole that he hasn’t filled yet.

“Oh-“ you breathe, stomach churning with pleasure. “Do it. Fuck, don’t tease me, Joel. I’ll fucking stab you in the leg, I don’t-“ You’re cut off when his middle finger slowly pushes into you, making you gasp.

He starts thrusting himself up into your pussy while his finger worked its way in and out of your tightest hole, your slick and Joel’s cum sufficiently lubing you up.

His finger moved faster as his hips bucked up against yours. You start to roll your hips in rhythm with his and you’re about to cum again.

Joel feels you clench around him and he knows you’re close. He starts fucking you especially hard, loving the way you were bouncing on his cock.

His finger pulls out of you and he grabs your hips with both hands for more force and then you’re screaming his name as you cum hard.

Close behind, Joel groans as he shoots his load into you again. His hands start to loosen on your hips, his dick starting to finally soften inside you. Your anger has faded, your stomach no longer burning with feral need.

Joel pulled you back against his chest again as he came to his senses. “Did I hurt you?” He spoke softly, cock flexing, still in your pussy.

You hum a sigh, tired. “No. I mean… yes. But it didn’t hurt in a way that I didn’t like.”

“Alright.” He wraps his arms around your waist, hands splaying out over your belly.

“This okay?” He asks after a moment, nose tracing circles in the soft spot behind your ear.

“Yeah… I-“ you take a breath. “I think I’ve been wanting to do that for awhile.”

Joel laughs quietly. “You ‘think’? Whaddya mean?”

You shake your head, smacking his arm lightly. “I just didn’t want to admit to myself that I had a crush on you. So I played up the sass a bit.”

“Ahh, okay.” He hums.

“Like you didn’t? You tease me all the fucking time, Joel.”

He nods, breath ghosting over your neck, causing goosebumps to raise there. “And I know you love it.”

————————————————————————

Tag list: @evyiione @chyannealaniz @cesspitoflove @supersingle

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mothhball · 2 months

Text

Beneath me

Pairing || professor!Jonathan Crane x student!Reader

Warnings || 18+ SMUT, NON-CON, DUB-CON, forced breeding, fingering, p in v sex, housewife kink(?), humiliation, dumbification, misogyny, unprotected sex, age gap (professor and student, everyone’s an adult), brief dacryphilia, condescending use of petnames, jon is a prick in this but gets better towards the end (if you squint hard enough)

Summary || The professor suspects you cheated on your exam, but you’re determined to prove him wrong.

Words || 3.7k

Notes || First ever fic and it’s smut because I love suffering. English isn’t my first language, so I hope everything makes sense. Please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with anything mentioned in the warnings

Afternoon lectures. The bane of many students’ existence, yours included. You’d been on campus since 9 am, trying to catch up on homework and study material for the most dreaded class of the day. Abnormal Psychology, presented by none other than Professor Jonathan Crane. Crane with his smart suits and piercing eyes. Crane with his condescending remarks and off-handed insults. Crane with his ridiculously handsome face and –

“Are you even listening to me?” The man in question is now standing in front of you, staring you down with narrowed eyes as his lips pull down into a frown. Yes, right. It’s 5 pm now, almost the end of the lecture and time to get your exam results back. You shake yourself out of your stupor, glancing down at the paper he left on your desk. But instead of a grade, you only see a bold red question mark which takes up almost a fourth of the entire first page. Crane clears his throat impatiently, and his mood sours more and more the longer he has to stand next to your seat.

“I said, you will meet me in my office after class. Is that understood? And I’d suggest you get your head in order until then,” he hisses, icy blue eyes filled with disdain. Your heart sinks, and you can feel the blood leaving your face as you manage to nod rather stiffly.

“Of course… Professor Crane, “ you murmur in reply, and upon hearing that, the professor quickly resumes his round around the lecture hall, handing back grades to your fellow students. As the first people pack up their things and begin to file out of the room, you slowly pack up as well. Your hands are cold from anxiety as you zip up your bag and get up from your seat. Meeting Professor Crane in his office was the last thing you wanted to do right now. The plan was to go home, grab takeout on the way and curl up in bed with a movie starring this forty-something year old actor you have the hots for. But God forbit anyone in Gotham wants to have a nice time.

Soon enough, you find yourself in Crane’s office, taking the seat in front of his desk and folding your hands in your lap to keep from fidgeting. The professor runs a hand through his hair, looking you over with a skeptical glare before he straightens his posture and gets to the point.

“I’m disappointed, shocked and quite frankly, I feel personally insulted.”

Your brows furrow, but before you can speak, he pulls out two stacks of paper, smacking them down on the desk. You quickly recognize one stack as a copy of your exam, but as you look over at the other, it feels like someone froze time for a moment. It’s someone else’s exam, but they wrote down the same answers. Not word for word, but in a way and structure that’s quite obviously plagiarized. Squinting at the name, you remember the guy sitting next to you, and anger bubbles up inside of your chest.

“He cheated off of me,” you mutter, trying to stay calm.

“Brennan said the same thing. Funny how that works, huh? And in case it went over your head, I don’t find it funny at all. But I will have to fail one of you. The question is, which one will it be?”

He takes his glasses off, gingerly setting the spectacles aside before he pinches the bridge of his nose. A little dramatic, but very much expected from him.

“Look, I’m not saying you were the one cheating off of Brennan,” He starts, sounding exhausted and absent at the same time. Like this is all beneath him. Like your future in his class has as much importance as the piece of lint he’s picking off of his sweater vest. “But there’s no real proof that he cheated off of you either. It’s a case of ‘he said, she said’. And it’s not like Brennan had much reason to cheat. He has had consistently good grades, whereas you-“

“I’ll prove it, “ you interrupt him without thinking, clenching your hands so tightly that your nails dig into the skin of your palms. Crane looks visibly taken aback, perplexed that you have the gall to intercept before he could expose your rather mediocre academic history in his class. You know you’re average. A face in the crowd; one of many names on an attendance sheet he barely pays attention to.

“I’ll prove it to you,” you repeat, swallowing dryly. Your mouth suddenly feels like you ate sand, and you really want to clear your throat, but you’ve done so thrice within the past five minutes, and you can tell it’s starting to piss him off. “Give me a chance, please. Please, Professor Crane. I know the material, I swear.”

Crane’s eyes briefly dart down to your lips, and his eyebrows furrow in thought before he nods slowly, thoughtfully. He’s making a show of it. Portraying himself as the generous teacher while you’re desperate for even the smallest chance of passing this goddamn class.

“Alright,” He sighs, and the weight seems to lift off of your shoulders. A smile begins to spread on your face, and –

“Get out a pen. And paper. You’re going to write an essay.”

Eyebrows raised in confusion, you tilt your head a little. You almost feel stupid to ask.

“What, right now?”

“Of course, right now. At home, you’d get the chance to cheat again, wouldn’t you?”

Again. He’s still convinced you were the one to cheat on your exam. His tone is bitingly condescending and he doesn’t bother to elaborate further as he gets up from his chair to head over to the almost overflowing bookshelf next to his desk. You’re still sitting there, hands in your lap until he lets out an exasperated sigh, signaling for you to get a move on. Not wanting to incur even more of his wrath, you dig through your bag to get out a pen and some loose sheets of paper.

In the meantime, Crane has chosen a book from his shelf, and he’s wordlessly flipping through the pages until he lands on a fitting topic for an essay. He snaps the book shut and returns to his desk, fixing his tie as he nods to himself.

“Alright. I want 5 pages on fear conditioning. If you truly studied for the exam, this should be a piece of cake. If you didn’t, this will be an embarrassing little lecture you’re in dire need of learning.”

Your eyes widen, and you stammer for a moment, unable to find the words while staying respectful.

“That many? But it’s already –“

“Five-thirty pm? I hope you didn’t have any plans for tonight. And you should be grateful that I don’t have plans either. I’m staying late for your sake. Because you convinced me to give you a chance. I don’t have to do this, you know? I could just fail you and go home. So, I think a little gratitude would be more than appropriate.” There’s an odd expression in his eyes. Halfway between hunger and conflict. He’s usually so composed. You must really be testing his patience.

“Thank you, Prof –“ “Thank me by getting to it already.”

You nod meekly, grabbing the pen and beginning to jot down the date and your name in the corner of the first page. While you’re focused on the introduction part of your essay, you miss the way that Crane folds his hands on the desk, gripping so hard his knuckles turn white. His icy gaze is focused on every twitch of your muscles, every swoop of your handwriting, every time you softly bite your lips in thought. If only you’d look up. You’d see the way his jaw is set and his pupils expand. You’d realize the situation you’re in. A bunny with its neck in the jaws of the wolf.

You’re about two thirds done with the first page when he wheels his chair around the desk, closer to yours. Once his arm brushes against you, you pause to lift your gaze, looking at him with equal parts confusion and curiosity.

“Uhm… professor? What are you doing?”

“Checking on your progress,” Is his curt reply, but he leans in even closer, staring down at your half-baked essay. “Eyes on the paper.”

You comply, getting back to writing after a short second of sorting your thoughts. It’s more difficult to write with him basically breathing down your neck, and your heart skips a beat when he scoots even closer. Despite this, you keep on writing. Until his hand lands on your thigh.

You tense, looking up at him. Your lips part, and you’re about to say something before he speaks first.

“Eyes. On. The. Paper. We’re going to simulate a stressful, distracting environment. Not unlike a lecture hall during an exam. If you can keep your cool, I’ll know you didn’t cheat.”

You bite your lip, hesitating.

“Or I could fail you right now, and you’ll prove me and my suspicions right.”

Back to writing it is. Your hand is a little shakier during the next few sentences while the warmth of his fingers seeps through the fabric of your skirt into your skin. But you get back into the motions, almost able to ignore him until his hand flexes and begins to wander. A shiver runs down your spine as his touch slips underneath your skirt, feeling the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh.

“That’s it. Keep writing. Try to show me how smart you are.”

Crane’s voice is a snide whisper right next to your ear. His breath sends a shiver down your spine, but you keep your focus on the essay. Well, at least some of it. Once his fingers brush over the crotch of your panties, your breath hitches as heat builds in your core. But you can’t even get a word in.

“Run your mouth and your final grade drops to an F. You’re on my time now, understood? Not a fucking word to anyone or else a failed class will be the least of your worries.”

You’ve never heard him curse before. The man sitting beside you, the man with his hand under your skirt isn’t the professor you’ve known throughout the semester. No, at this point, the mask is slipping and the difference is startling. Crane pushes your skirt up with one hand and your legs apart with the other, letting out a low, appreciative hum at the sight of your wet panties.

“Fuck. You’re soaking through the lace, aren’t you? I didn’t even touch you yet… Are you always this easy? Almost adorable… Keep writing for me.”

His words make your ears burn with embarrassment, and you bite down on the inside of your cheek as you get back to your essay. It’s getting harder to think. Especially once his fingers slip underneath your panties, running between your glistening folds. Crane quickly finds your clit, rubbing circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves for a deliciously brief moment before he moves his hand further down to your entrance.

“Now you’re being grateful, hm? Is this what you were thinking about while everyone else was making an effort during my lectures? While everyone else was busy doing their work… you were getting worked up in your seat thinking about me. Thinking about me playing with your little cunt.”

The corners of his lips pull up into a self-satisfied grin as he plunges a finger inside of you, and you can’t help but let out a soft sigh of pleasure. You’re so wet that he’s not meeting any resistance from your sweet pussy, so he quickly adds a second one. The slick noises are obscene, and you duck your head in an attempt to hide your flushed face and focus on the essay, but it’s futile. You’re writing complete and utter nonsense at this point, and he knows it. Crane scoots his chair even closer, pressing up against your side as he works his fingers inside of you, caressing that spongy spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. As he looks over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of your writing, he scoffs out a laugh.

“Goodness, sweetie. That’s what your pretty little head managed to come up with so far? All this talk about wanting to prove yourself, and you deliver this? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more pathetic attempt at an essay in all my years of teaching.”

Tears well up in your eyes at the harshness of his words, and the sight of it makes Crane’s cock harden in his slacks. He licks his lips, curling his fingers inside of you with a little more urgency as he leans in to whisper into the crook of your neck.

“Let out those noises. I guarantee they’re worth more than every brainless contribution you’ve ever made in my class.”

It’s an order, not a request, and you find yourself unable to keep quiet anymore as his thumb comes up to rub your clit again. Your wetness is starting to drip down onto the seat below you while you let out a breathy moan, and you begin to doubt yourself. Maybe you really are as empty-headed as he says. To your dismay, this thought only causes the tension in your core to build up even faster.

“There we go. Close to cumming from being fingered by your professor. You’re so needy, so eager for the slightest bit of attention. A toy that needs to be played with 24/7. Aren’t you ashamed?”

You let out another moan of pleasure and humiliation, clenching around his digits as he stretches you open. When did you forget how to speak?

“Trying to play in the big leagues while you’re just a dumb little fuckpet for my enjoyment,” he hisses, before he sinks his teeth into your earlobe, causing you to squeak. It hurts. But that’s the point. You’re so close to the edge, toes curling inside of your shoes. And then suddenly, he withdraws his hand. You catch a glimpse of his glistening fingers, and you turn your head just in time to watch him lick your juices off of them. He lets out a groan, satisfied by your taste.

“Get up. Hands on the desk.”

You scramble to get up, standing on wobbly legs as you bend over Crane’s desk. The professor wastes no time, grabbing onto your sopping wet panties and ripping them off of you. The fabric shreds beneath his hands, leaving your skin stinging where it cut slightly into the soft flesh of your thighs. Your skirt is flipped up, exposing your rear to him, and he moans out another sound of appreciation. His hands come up to grab onto the meat of your ass, spreading them apart to allow him a perfect view of your dripping cunt.

“Lord knows you’re not made for higher education.”

Crane leans in, licking a stripe up between your folds, and you bite down on a knuckle to keep in the pathetic moan that hangs on your lips. Your body is desperately begging you to just let him take what he wants from you, but your mind clings onto the last shred of dignity you have. When the sound of his belt being undone tears you from your thoughts, you turn your head, looking at him from over your shoulder.

“Wait –“ You start, suddenly struck by the reality of it all.

Crane chuckles at the expression of wide-eyed apprehension on your face.

“You’re not braindead already, are you? What did you think was going to be the logical conclusion of this? Of course, I’m going to bury my dick in you. Fuck, if you were this tight around my fingers, I can’t wait to feel you squeezing my cock….”

“No, I –“

“Shh, no need to worry. Judging by your essay, you don’t have the mental capacity anyway.”

Crane roughly grabs a fistful of your hair, pushing your head down until your cheek meets the wooden surface of his desk while he hurriedly unzips his slacks. He’s painfully hard at this point, straining against the fabric of his boxers, and he lets out a relieved hiss once he’s finally freed himself. He leans over you, pressing his weight into your back and aligning himself with your tight hole before he pushes his hips forward. You’re immobilized under him, squished against the desk as he fills you with his length. Crane’s lips find your pulse, licking and nibbling at your neck as he bottoms out inside of you, shuddering from the sensation of your plush walls around his cock.

“Good girl… you’re so wet. All for me, huh? Yes… just for me.” He moans through his teeth, leaning back a little to watch as your pussy stretches around him when he begins to slowly thrust into you. You let out a soft whine in response, not quite adjusted to him yet. But if you know anything about him at this point, it’s that he doesn’t care.

“I know, sweetheart, it’s a lot. Just relax – shh, shh, that’s it. You feel so good, squeezing me like a proper toy. All obedient and sweet… you really were built for this.“

He lifts his hand, landing a smack on your ass before he pulls out all the way and pushes back in, letting out a condescending laugh at the way you shiver. You can feel how deep he reaches, hitting every spot while he stretches you out with calculated thrusts. His pace begins to speed up, and his other hand wraps around your throat to keep you close as he pounds into you. Coherent thought becomes difficult for you, and even if you did want to say something, it’s suddenly made impossible when Crane pushes two fingers into your mouth, almost making you gag.

“Needy little thing. Bent over and babbling like a whore. But you -fuuuck - you take me so well, don’t you? All tight and sopping wet for my cock to stretch you out...”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, yanking you back by your hair to make you lift your torso up from the desk. The carefully crafted persona of a calm, reasonable Professor Dr. Jonathan Crane has completely slipped from his face now and shattered by his feet like Fine China. His hands move quickly, urgently as his rhythm begins to stutter. The fingers that are now soaked with your saliva make their way back between your legs to circle your clit while his other hand leaves your hair to tear open your blouse, sending the buttons flying everywhere.

His teeth find your neck again as he grabs at your chest, kneading your soft breasts as he marks you up. Hickeys, bruises, bite marks. He leaves them behind to claim. To own. Your climax hits you like a truck, knocking the air from your lungs as he fucks you through your orgasm, not faltering for a second. Stars fill your vision for a moment, and you’re only vaguely aware of the kisses that he’s pressing to your cheek. Your walls are clenching him tightly, causing him to curse under his breath.

Crane swallows heavily, rasping into your ear between shallow breaths.

“Tell you what… No more thinking about essays. In fact, I don’t want you to think ever again. No more exams… no more studies. As if you’d ever be someone of importance in this field to begin with. No, no… I won’t let you waste your time on a silly little Bachelor’s anymore... Fuckpets like you only need to be bred. I’m gonna be generous and fuck a child into you.”

Your eyes snap wide open, and even with your cock-drunken brain, you realize just how serious he is about this. In an attempt to get away, you begin to struggle in his grasp, but he replies by kicking your legs further apart, forcing you down against the desk again. The wooden edge digs against your thighs, keeping your hips in place for him as he plows you into the piece of furniture. Your cheek is pressed up against your unfinished essay, reminding you of your failure on all accounts as you drool onto the paper.

Your hands are clawing at the desk, trying to find purchase when his own hands find yours, linking your fingers together in a frighteningly intimate gesture. Crane continues to moan your name, pressing his face into the crook of your neck before he pushes his cock as deep as he can into your poor cunt, filling you with his hot cum. He lazily rocks his hips back and forth a few more times, trying to push in his load as far as he can before he finally stills, panting against your skin. He stays on your back for another few moments, breathing in your scent and idly squeezing your hands with his.

Once his breathing has evened out once more, he straightens up, kissing the top of your head before he pulls out. Crane watches as his seed drips out of you, a glint of amusement and possessiveness in his eyes as he pushes it back into you with two fingers. You feel completely boneless, crumpled on the desk as you try to make sense of what happened and what will happen. The silence doesn’t last long before Crane speaks up again.

“In the morning, you’ll make me breakfast, and in the evening, you’ll cream on my cock. Like a proper little housewife. And I’ll get to see your tits swell and your belly expand as our kid grows inside of you,” He muses, running his hands over your shoulders and down your back, a gesture that’s more meant to ground himself than it is meant to soothe you.

His voice is soft, yet eerily determined. A man that’s planning the future out loud. Unbeknownst to you, he’s reaching into his suit pocket behind you, pulling out a small syringe filled with a clear liquid.

“And if you get bored again and your mind starts to wander, I’ll knock you up again and again until you know your place. Face down, ass up. Beneath me.”

#jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane #batman begins #nolanverse #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x y/n #.moth writes

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gremlingottoosilly · 9 months

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[If you need to be mean] chapter 2

Chapter 1

Konig decided to meet his new favorite civilian at the cafe you work at. Unfortunately for both of you, you're both socially awkward. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective

— Did something good happen, colonel? You are practically shining.

Horangi always had this special ability of telling nonsense with the most serious face and deep voice. He also was the only one in his unit to ever be brave enough to joke with his superior – even though all the other KorTac members usually don’t risk their asses to be put on fire list because of some silly joke. He is the closest König has to a friend – and it’s kinda sad, actually, that a broken gambling addict is the only person who can read his emotions so well, even with his hood and permanently sour expression.

But something good did happen – you happen, of course.

He spend a few days of self-reflecting, drinking and punching training manekens in the gym, trying so fucking hard to put your adorable civillian face out of his mind. You were out of sight alright, but the way your features would get distorted into something even more adorable every time he closed his eyes, was concerning. He dealt with those little obsessions before – nothing that a few good rounds of jerking off until he would feel nothing but emptiness and hatred to himself couldn’t handle. He surely can’t fall that deep down, he only saw you for like an hour and it was literally three days ago!

— I read your reports about the last terrorist encounter. Good job, Horangi.

— And I heard about that civilian girl you pulled, sir. Thought we are bringing those to the police, not their houses.

— I had to make sure she wasn't a spy.

— And she wasn’t?

König thinks – would be far easier if he would have an official, legal reason to keep you locked up on the base without the right to come out. Would be far easier for him to just think about you as an enemy, so he would have normal reasons for thinking about you constantly, and not feeling guilty. It’s normal to think so much about your enemies – this is what keeps you alive on the field, if you can determine their shortcomings early and make sure that you can fight them. He would love having you as an enemy – it would at least give him some info before starting obsession over little ol’ you.

— No.

— That would give us at least some lead to the terrorist cell. Feels like all locals are protecting them from it.

— I understand your frustration. But at least they are not cutting our pay.

— We might as well rebel if they’d try to.

— We are not stepping on terrorist’s route.

— I was joking, sir. Only thing that’s left here except for card games.

Horangi hates stationing in this country as much as König is – and, given that he is a sergeant and doesn’t have as much rank expectations, can talk about this openly. This operation is perfect except for the lack of intel, lack of action and lack of basically anything to do – the local forces are handling minor threats, while mercs here are mostly to show off how the government has money to hire them. KorTac would pay for actually having to fight some bad guys around here – but the bigger ones are hiding and lower ones are already getting tracked down by the local military.

The only interesting thing to do, seemingly, is to obsess over local girls – and König thought he is better than this.

But he isn’t losing sleep over thinking about how scared and fragile you looked that night. Especially not even going to think about how adorable your little pout was, and the way your hands were trembling. He definitely doesn't want to know every tiny detail about your life, what you like and what you hate, what is your favorite position in bed and the color of underwear you are currently wearing – or even if you are wearing one. And he isn’t some sort of creep that would spend an obnoxiously long amount of time registering on social media – god, he is too old for this shit, it literally feels even more humiliating than his whole school experience – just so he can find your accounts and get instant masturbation material.

You really shouldn’t post so much half-naked photos – yes, this is a reel from your last summer vacation and yes, this swimsuit looks beautiful on you, but have you ever considered that some creep(not someone like him, he is palming himself very respectfully) would use those photos as a way to get themself off? Terrible, scary, he can’t wait for you to post some new photos – maybe in something that he would buy you, way skimpier and more expensive, so he could protect you from those people.

He looks at your posts about work – and he hates this stupid blue bird app because it never works for him, always filled with some assholes who are trying to argue with literally everyone, and the way he can’t even see your posts properly because of the weird ads. No, he doesn’t need a “Thing that would make your dick longer” he literally has a problem with making it smaller. No, he doesn’t need some dumb T-shirt even though he kinda reflects with the funny pun about pokemons and would love to wear something containing his major interest even though it would look ridiculous on a 6 '10 killing machine.

But König reads all of your short posts about the way you hate working in customer service, and his hand is almost slipping to the ad about wedding rings. You hate your job, he hates his – practically soulmates, even though he doesn’t really hate the killing part of his employment, he just doesn’t want to be in charge of people and making them steal the fun of destroying. He would, however, agree to get as many ranks as possible if that would mean providing for you. If that would allow him to be by your side and listen to your sweet voice, he would agree for the next promotion even if higher ups would want him to make some PR wawes and become a fucking fashion model.

But he is completely sane about you. Totally normal. Absolutely nothing is wrong with him when he can’t even think about visiting you in real life, but he leaves a like on every of your posts in every social media he has – you have terrible online safety habits by the way, he can already see what the inside of your apartment looks like, your place of work from three different angles, and how the front door of your apartment is held together by a very easy to destroy lock. He could snatch it in one deliberate kick, not even speaking about just shooting it. Not like he would need to, he wants you to be with him willingly. Or, at least, don’t fight him too much in case he would actually lose his patience and do something drastic.

It has already been three days and he feels like he is going crazy. He had those things before, overthinking about tiniest details in someone he never truly knew, but even then he’d understand that he can’t be with them – it could be his school crushes that were, ironically, crushed because of his anxiety. It might be some casual flings with his fellow soldiers that would either get killed in the field or never happen because it would be fraternization. Some random people he saw at the airport and already imagined life with multiple kids and a dog. He always knew he had a problem – but it was never like this before. Never dangerous.

The problem is – he knows that he can have you.

Maybe not in a traditional way, he doubts that you would just marry him on the spot, but he can court you at least. He can shower you with gifts or ridiculous tips at your job, he can just snatch you away and leave you as his perfect little bedmate. He can make his men kidnap you, and while it is inhumane and you don’t deserve this, he would calm you down – and then have his happily ever after.

He knows that he can have you – and it drives him crazy. He could stop himself previously, when he didn’t have anything for himself to be considered desirable – but now, with his rank and all the new opportunities and money it brings, he can’t stop but fantasize.

You under him, panting and blushing, lips puffy from kisses, skin glazed from sweat and marked with his teeth.

You under him, so wonderfully tight, not letting him go even for an inch – and you are perfectly taking him, no matter how gigantic he is.

You under him, smiling, cuddling after a long night – every night after a mission, where he could spend his free time deep in your body, listening to your melodic moans and little whines.

You under…

— Can I…can I take your order, sir?

He is a disgusting human being because lives of thousand people are on a stake, he would just doom them all if he wouldn’t find those terrorists soon – and he wastes time on sitting in this tiny ass cafe, trying to place himself on the small seat while being all too nervous to just talk to you. Like a person. Of course he had to go to your shift – he already determined which days you were working because it increased the number of angry “I hate my job and want to kill my manager” posts on that dumb social media, and he knows which hours you work at – of course it’s almost night time, the closing shift, because he simply can’t have himself not worry about you.

He is a creep, weirdo and all that words in a song that he’s been blasting in his tiny headphones all of these days because he can smell the sweetness of your perfume and the way you are munching on the pen you are using to write his order. Oh, yes, order. He is supposed to order something, he can’t just give you money for how adorable you look in that white apron – even though you are absolutely stunning and should get money.

God, he would murder everyone in this building just for them to never look at your legs again.

God, he would bury himself between them if only you’d allow him to.

— Sir, is everything okay?

He served in the military for far longer that you lived, probably. Most of his life, he got used to being referred to as something honorable, or referring to other people like that – and he never thought that just being referred to as “sir” would make his dick twitch in his pants. He crosses his legs, hoping not to get too imposing – he already towers over the tiny table like a giant he is, barely even fitting in it. He thinks he has a healthy amount of self-control – then he looks at you again, and thanks all the gods he knows for the mask he is wearing – at least under the black surgeon piece and dark glasses you won’t really see his blush. Or that little twitching in his eyes that is indicating danger.

— Sorry, I…can I, um, have a coffee? Bitte…please, I mean.

He hates how nervous he is – like high school again, asking his crush out just to be ridiculed. But you look perfect like this – controlled environment, you can’t just laugh at him and say that he is a weird nerd from another class, you have a manager who is controlling of such behavior. He would never tell on you, of course, he wants you to be happy, even if this job makes you the most miserable – even though he kinda thinks of you as a weak for this, his job literally involves killing people and he doesn't argue that much!

But you giggle – sweet, innocent sound, it drives him crazy even more than he previously was. It doesn’t feel like those girls at school – yes, he still can’t let that go, even though his therapist says he has to – and he loses all control at how beautiful you sound. He wants to take you away right now, pay you for your workplace however you get them, and just use you as he wants – no matter how socially unacceptable. He protects this country, he has the right for a little prize, right? No, this would be terrible, he shouldn’t just harass sweet little civilians like you, he should…

— What type of coffee, sir? Do you want some dessert?

This is a typical question, he was at cafes and coffee shops a thousand times but, for some reason, it feels almost like you are teasing him. You bite the end of your pen with those adorable teeth of yours – he wants to feel it on his fingers, he wants you to leave bite marks all over his body as a sign of marking him as yours. He smiles under his mask, hoping that you would somehow feel it – how happy you make him feel, how hard it’s for him not to lose control.

— No. Just coffee.

— Sugar?

He would like some sugar, of course – but the one he wants is probably not for sale, even though that adorable white apron of yours makes you look like a candy. He would love to unwrap you from those silly clothes and devour what belongs to him for the right of protector, but he knows how scared you might be. He is not a good person, he killed more people that he could count – countless fathers, sons, mothers, he shouldn’t even think about having a right for a family of his own after all of this. He is not a good person and his moral code changes with every kill he gets – but for hell sake, he wants to be nice with you. You deserve it, he knows. More than he is, for sure.

König doesn’t really like sugary stuff, it was always too childish, made him too energetic, disrupted his very peculiar way of eating things. Sweets makes him only more hungry, makes him crave more, and he wants to be as serious as possible – so he usually drinks and eats stuff that is no tastier than a pile of dry sand. But he responds before he can think, too focused on that shiny lipgloss you have on your lips. He would lick and bite it all – soon, he hopes.

— Ja. Thank you.

— Good choice, sir.

Your lips are curling into a small, shy smile and he likes sugar now. He isn’t sure if you are telling everyone that their order is a good choice, maybe you just want to get more tips, but he hopes that maybe, he is special. Maybe there is something nice happening to him after all. A small reward for not being a total monster on the last mission he had, even though he could. He can’t do anything but to stare at you, his only saving grace is the dark lenses of his glasses – he can’t wear his hood in civil situations, unfortunately, people would stare, stare, stare and that would make him want to pull their eyes out.

But you smile and he smiles also, even if you can’t see it. He is looking at your legs and, fuck, he is a disgusting old creature that preys upon younger women because he never had a positive experience before. He is a total creep and a monster that should be put down already – but he stares at your legs under that waitress dress, and he would pay your manager a few thousand Euros to cut the length of your skirt in half.

Then he sees all the others looking at you the same way – old people, young people, there aren’t a lot of guests at this time in the evening, most people are afraid of going into public places while the war on terrorism is going on. There aren’t a lot of people while it’s almost closing time, but he doesn't even want to think about all the other men looking at you like this. Devouring you with their eyes, probably leaving sleazy comments as you go through the small cafe, just as overworked as your other coworkers. He wants to take you from here.

You don’t deserve people looking at you like you aren’t even a person – only he can look at you respectfully, stripping you with his eyes. He can be soft for you, can be perfect – if you would just let him.

König doesn’t want to be a creep around you, but he was looking at your legs for five minutes already, picturing the way your body would look under all of these clothes, and his cock gets painfully hard. He thanks himself for wearing normal, baggy pants, not something tighter – at least his embarrassment is completely covered by his clothes.

— Here is your coffee. Anything else?

You look nervous, of course – but he seems way softer than he was a couple days ago, at night. The absence of his creepy mask is obviously helping, and because he is sitting, you don’t have to tilt your head too high, causing your neck to stretch uncomfortably. He looks awkwards, like a big dog that still tries to fit into his old bed, and it causes you to smile a little bit more. You made sure to place a couple of sugar cubes on the plate, so he could decide for himself, if he wants to use them all – but the mere thought of that giant of a man, a colonel, hardened soldier liking something silly and sweet is making you giggle.

He looks way softer than he was that night, and you can almost forget about how scared you were – how you were thinking that this would be the end for you, that one, overthinking part of your mind already making up the scenarios of getting martial lawed because of the broken curfew. You can even see his hair – and fight the urge to touch it a little. He is still who-knows-how-old and still a military presence in your peaceful country.

You still want to ruffle his hair.

He still wants to take your clothes off and make you his.

— Nein, thank you.

He stares at the cup for a good few seconds – if he wants to drink, he needs to actually take it off. He has many scars on his face, and his mouth sometimes feels like it has more dead skin than alive one – he doesn’t want to attract attention. Some people are already staring at his badge and how awkward a giant man like him looking in that cozy, tiny place – but he also wants you to see how much pain he can withstand without getting killed. How he can protect you from anything because there literally isn’t anything he won’t do for you. You would appreciate a man with scars, it’s a sign of bravery, right?

Then he thinks about all the times he would take off his mask and how people around him would look at him – with pity, with fear, with disgust sometimes even though he is certain that his face isn’t as deformed as some other parts of his body. He even almost managed to grow a beard once! Then he had to scrub it all off because hair was growing in very uneven patches and he looked like something crawled on his chin and died.

König fought in countless battles, spent his youth training to be the best killer possible, took part in many major conflicts and killed hundreds of people while feeling nothing but recoil. He isn’t afraid of anything – except for talking to people sometimes, maybe, and even now he is trying to work on it with his therapist, instead of just killing anyone who looks at him funny. He isn’t afraid of the dark, of death, of uncertainty in his life. But he is afraid of you looking at him unmasked and thinking that you, in fact, find him disgusting.

You almost want to take your time to look at what he will do – is he going to take off his mask? Is he going to drink right through the fabric? You have too much work to just stay at his table and stare, even if you want to – but you are trying to give him occasional glances as he just…sits at his table. Not even moving, just staring at the cup and sometimes moving his head to look at you – or just ornaments at the wall behind you. Yes, probably the ornament.

König sits at the table and, well, he doesn’t even want to drink his coffee because just looking at the way your ass sways under that terribly short skirt is enough to set him on fire. He wants to take you home with him – even though his home is all the way up in Austria. He would take you, you probably wouldn’t even be mad at you – you could be a perfect little family. He already waited too long to start one, never finding anyone who would win his heart for a long run but he was sure that this three-days-obsession would last long. He isn’t sure, however, if he likes it or not.

He ended up not drinking at all – he knows that he can’t just waste multiple hours, he already got his lieutenants covering the spot with paper work while their commander is away at searching for the love of his life. He wants to be with you longer, probably walk you home again and make sure to protect you from any creeps that would want to attack. He can’t have that, it’s obvious – he is a colonel, unfortunately, he is still on the hunt for those terrorists, he can barely give himself an hour of free time these days.

He already indulged in his fantasies too much when he folds a 100 Euros banknote and puts it into the bill – not sure about how much money it is here, not wanting to give you any trouble with exchanging currency, he just hopes that would be enough for you to at least not worry about food for a few days. Or buy yourself something nice – what girls like these days? Guns, books, some fancy lip gloss, a hat for their adorable little turtles? He would buy you a pet turtle, he always wanted one as a kid – right before his father said that all lizards are products of sinful corporations and a lazy pet like a turtle, unlike a giant dog breed, is completely useless and unmanly.

He doesn’t want to be here when you’ll get the bill – he is too afraid that he didn’t gave you enough, that you'd be disappointed. He would love to give you more, of course, but he doesn’t want to just shove you the money like you are some sort of cheap whore – he wants to give you gifts, something meaningful, to steal you from poverty altogether. König is an expert in infiltration and escaping arts, he can exit the location without anyone noticing a thing, even with his size – and then you look at him, directly into his eyes, covered by sunglasses – and your face is twisted in shock as you realize what exactly he left you.

— Wait, sir! Please, I…god, I will get you the change right now, I’m so sorry, it’s closing shift, I…I’m sorry, I completely forgot…

You are almost begging him to stop and let you give him his money, a honorable deed really – but all he can think of is how nice you would look on your knees, begging him to fuck you already. How perfect you would look all whiny and spoiled, asking him for something expensive, whatever your cute head would want. You would look so complete on his lap, tugging on his shirt and asking your daddy for a new toy. You would…

— It was a tip. Take it.

He wants to be able to tell you how perfect you look, how he wants to just throw you over his shoulder in a totally non-creepy way and make you his little wifey. How he would take multiple months of leave to just be with you, marry you, breed you. He wants to have a way with words, but they are useless to him – he can’t even say he likes you, it’s embarrassing, he is almost forty, he got his rank as youngest colonel in history of KorTac, he can literally have almost everything he wants – except for basic social skills.

He feels like a creep, an old man trying to steal that perfect girl from the shiny world, and he hates himself for it – but then you blush and he can almost convince himself that yeah, you like that creep too.

— I…shit, I mean, sorry…thank you, sir.

— Don’t wander at night again.

He feels like a scolding father and you giggle again, too innocent and naive to understand his thoughts.

— I won’t. Promise.

He then slowly leans closer, puts a hand on your shoulder again – goosebumps are running on your skin. His head is near yours now, he is whispering in your ear – and you are almost sure that you shouldn’t have come closer to him like this, that it’s unprofessional from your side, that everyone is staring at you. They are – and you try to ignore it, but…

— Wear shorts under your skirt next time. Never know who might look at your legs like that.

You would slap him here and there. You would scream and run away right now, but for some stupid, dumb, completely terrifying reason, you…almost like how protective he sounds. And the money he gave you is also helping – even if just a little bit.

König looks at the way you blush even more, and he knows already that he won’t ever let you go.

Tag list: @iwritesjud3

Please write if you want to be tagged in the next chapter!

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

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im-his-druidess · 11 days

Text

The Deal

No one asked for this, but I needed something dark and gross 🤷‍♀️

TW: Dub-Con turned Non-Con; Infidelity; Cheating; Rough sex; Forced sex; Slight fuck-or-die but not really; Dead Dove Do Not Eat; Unnecessary amount of commas

Just when you think you couldn’t feel even more worthless, here you were spreading your legs for a man that wasn’t your husband, all for the chance to get food on your table. Your husband acted just as worthless as you currently felt and invited his parents to move into your already cramped house without discussing anything with you. Four grown adults living in a one-bedroom shack of a house, with your husband barely making enough money to feed you both let alone two more mouths, was enough to want to pull your hair out. Of course, it didn’t help that your mother-in-law found fault in every single thing you did which your husband agreed with to stay on his mother’s good side. Coupled with your in-laws living beyond their means, including gorging themselves on food that you managed to scrap together, which often left you going to bed hungry and riddled with anxiety. So, when you overheard the local gossip hounds whispering how the Hewitt family would give meat from their job at the slaughterhouse in exchange for favors, it didn’t take long for you to come to a steely resolve. It might have been the numerous days without a steady meal, or how you were belittled everyday at your home, that made you snap and jump at the chance.

Setting up the arrangement with Charlie Hewitt left a sour taste in your mouth at the way he openly leered at you the entire time, but you just kept thinking about finally going to bed with a full belly to get you through his poorly concealed innuendos and crass language. It wasn’t until you arrived at the Hewitt’s home, telling your husband you were walking to the next town for groceries as an excuse, that your plan began to crumble. The memory of Charlie’s words making fear squeeze your lungs and bile rising in your throat.

‘As much as I want a piece of that pussy…I made a promise to my kin. Tommy’s birthday is coming up and it is far past time for him to become a man despite what mama says. So that’s who you’ll be fucking today. If you got a problem with that then you can fuck off.’

He was so matter-of-fact about the whole thing that it made your head spin.

Relief that you wouldn’t have to sleep with that disgusting excuse of a man making you giddy, before realization at his words struck you like white-hot lightening. You’ve only seen Tommy Hewitt once and the memory was seared into your brain.

You had come across him as he lumbered down the main road on his way home from the slaughterhouse and you were frozen in your tracks as his hulking form stalked past you. He was a large burly man, with broad shoulders, huge biceps, and thick thighs, and his dark shaggy hair didn’t hide the fact that he wore some type of leather mask on the lower part of his face.

He still wore his bloodstained apron.

You had reluctantly agreed once Charlie “sweetened” the deal by promising double the amount of food he would give. Now, here you were, propped up on a bench in the shed while listening to Charlie whisper harshly outside the door. From his tone it sounded like he was scolding someone, Tommy to be exact when you heard his slow heavy footsteps nearing the door, and you swore your heart was going to beat out of your chest the longer you had to wait. From the snippets you could hear it sounded like he was giving instructions and you grimaced when you heard him give vivid instructions on what to put in where.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Tommy came stumbling through the door looking exactly like you remember minus the apron. You realized his blunt appearance was because he was being pushed into the room. Charlie gave you a dirty lingering look, shaking his head with a wistful sigh, before slapping Tommy on a broad shoulder before ducking back out.

The door shut with a firm thud and then you were left alone with the behemoth.

Fear and anxiety once more rushed through you fast enough to make you lightheaded, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, and the man lingered almost awkwardly by the door. You dimly noticed that he kept his head down, stealing glances at you and your body through his curtain of hair, and you took a deep breath to gather your courage. The bench underneath you was hard and uncomfortable and you knew the sooner you got this over with the sooner you can go home and forget this entire thing.

With shaky hands you hiked up your skirt, removing your panties so they won’t get lost or ruined, and spread your legs. Your face burned in mortification at your actions, even more so when Tommy’s entire body jerked as if sucker-punched, and he didn’t even bother trying to hide the way he openly stared between your legs with wide blue eyes. You fumbled with the small bottle of oil you brought with you, knowing you weren’t going to get properly wet enough to make things less painful, and you quickly waved Tommy over. He approached slowly as if you were going to bite before settling between your spread legs. With him so close you suddenly realized just how big he was, your thighs straining to accommodate the width of his hips, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when a large heavy hand landed on your thigh. His skin was rough and overly warm, thick fingers digging into the meat of your thigh curiously, and you spotted his eyes darting over the rest of your body before settling back between your legs. Your nerves were starting to crumble at his slow pace so you reached down and began unbuckling his pants with trembling fingers.

His entire body tensed up and you mumbled a quiet apology, but your hands continued their work. You knew this was supposedly his first time, but you were anxious to get this over with. Tommy made a low grunting noise as he shuffled on his feet before you got his pants open and his entire body seemed to spasm when you reached into his pants to grab his dick.

You immediately paled at the sheer girth you encountered as you fingers weren’t even close to touching.

He was clearly proportionate to the rest of his body, but that also meant that he was hung like a fucking horse. You let go and fumbled with the vial of oil with a quick prayer for things to be over quickly. You ignored how he jerked his hips closer to you as if willing your hand back as he restlessly pushed his pants down with a grunt to offer you more room to touch him.

His cock stuck out just below his button-down shirt, almost drooping from the heavy weight, and the thick tip was an angry shade of red. You couldn’t help but compare him to your husband. He was larger in every single way, almost laughably so, and you had the brief thought of if you could even get that inside you. It twitched under your gaze. You looked away suddenly embarrassed and saw out of the corner of your eye his hips jerk once more towards you. You felt sweat pool at your lower back, the hot summer air doing nothing to cool you off despite being in shade, and you nervously wiped the sweat beading at your brow the back of your hand. You chided yourself and focused once more at the task at hand.

You poured a generous amount into your palm, nearly half the bottle, and steeled yourself before reaching down to coat him thoroughly. The sound he made didn’t seem human, the punched out garbled growl making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, and you held back your whimper of fright as he thickened even more in your grasp. You tried to not think of how you were going to struggle to take him into your body. You dropped him once he was completely coated and dumped more oil into your hand, steadfastly ignoring the way Tommy panted through his mask. You leaned back while taking a deep breath before reaching down and slathering yourself, working the oil into your cunt while simultaneously trying to stretch yourself with two fingers in preparation. It wasn’t long until you felt calloused fingers brushing against the back of your hand making you nearly shriek in surprise. You whipped your head down to see Tommy had moved closer, eyes completely transfixed between your legs, and you realized he was gripping himself with his other hand.

He was stroking himself at the same pace you were working yourself open.

Unexpectedly, heat simmered low in your pelvis at the sight and you couldn’t help but squirm in place. It was only about a minute later that you could tell he was getting restless, his hand squeezing his cock tight enough to make you wince, and you pretended to not notice him rubbing the weeping tip against your thighs. Tommy suddenly gripped your leg and spread you even further and you did whimper at the pain shooting through your hip at the unnatural position. He began grinding against your hand still buried in yourself, huffing in annoyance when he was denied entry, and you took a shuddering deep breath before moving your hand away to grip the edge of the bench.

“Go…slow, okay? Slow,” you muttered in a raspy voice and the only answer you received was the sensation of something blunt and sticky nudging at you.

He suddenly surged forward in an attempt to ram himself in, making you shriek and kick your pinned leg uselessly, but thankfully he just slid through your wet folds and brushed against your clit. He did that a few more times and was clearly growing agitated.

Even as you tried to weakly soothe him by weakly petting the hand holding you open, but that just seemed to work him up even more. Eventually the head of his cock notched at your entrance and he began to slowly push forward, seemingly learning from his mistakes, and you felt your eyes widen at the stretch. He was impossibly wide, nearly making you scream as your body attempted to reject the intrusion, but he was determined and those dark blue eyes never strayed from your straining cunt. You tried to help by shifting your hips, bracing one foot on the bench to widen your pelvis, and even stretching your other leg out to help ease the tension.

Nothing worked and you couldn’t escape the mounting pressure.

“It’s not going to work…Tommy, you have to stop. It hurts,” you pleaded, beginning to push on his thick chest while wiggling your hips away from him, and your vision blurred with unshed tears. Tommy didn’t like you pushing him away.

With a growl he pulled back, but your relief was short lived as he easily grabbed your hips and flipped you over and resumed his position. One broad palm was flat on your back between your shoulder blades, pinning you in place even as you squirmed and kicked, and you felt him trying to push in again with renewed vigor.

“Tommy, stop! I changed my mind! Get off of me!” you shrieked with growing panic only to have your shouts silenced by the feel of that fat head popping inside you.

Your eyes widened, body freezing and clenching down on reflex, and you barely had time to draw in a breath before Tommy drew back and slammed himself halfway inside you. The scream you let out was ear-piercing and your throat immediately felt shredded from the sound, but was cut off by him rearing back and slamming his hip back into you until he was eventually buried to the hilt.

His croaky moan of pleasure was covered by another scream from you.

Tears were now flowing freely down your face as you howled in pain, feeling as if you were being ripped in half, and you barely noticed Tommy’s other hand reaching down to paw at your wet cheeks as if to soothe you.

He only stayed still for a few seconds before leaning back and beginning a downright brutal pace. His hips were slamming into you with enough force to have the bench beneath you creaking ominously, your pelvis felt like it was going to shatter, and you had the stray thought that no amount of preparation would have ever prepared for you for him. Your gasping cries were short and choppy, from both his frantic pace and the hand pushing you down effectively squishing your lungs, but you still shrieked and yelped for him to stop or at least slow down to let your body adjust.

He didn’t listen.

He seemed possessed, grunting and snarling as he pounded into you mercilessly, and eventually your body went limp. You clawed helplessly against the wood beneath your cheek, blubbering incoherently, and prayed that Tommy would finish quickly. As if punishment for accepting this deal, you were granted no such reprieve.

He continued to rut into you like a mindless beast for what felt like hours, your insides swollen and throbbing as they were pummeled by his thick cock, and sweat was dripping off of him and mingling with your tears as he leaned over you to reach impossibly deeper. It wasn’t until his hips started stuttering and his thrusts turned deep and hard instead of fast and frantic that had you crying in relief at the telltale signs that he was nearing his finish. Then a horrifying realization dawned on you. Tommy wasn’t stopping. Instead it seemed he was spending longer and longer buried completely to the hilt, pressed flush against you as close as he could, and a new wave of terror-induced adrenaline washed over you.

“Not inside…Tommy don’t you fucking dare finish inside me,” you shrieked, renewing your struggles to escape him, and you grew increasingly wild as he only grunted at you.

You began writhing and attempting to twist away from him, kicking your legs and reaching back behind you to claw at his face, anything to get him away from you.

It only resulted in the hand on your back to slide up and fist painfully in your hair, nearly slamming you back onto the table hard enough for you to see black spots swimming in your vision, and his other hand grabbed your hip to further hold you in place. You continued to beg and plead for him to not come inside you, literally anywhere else but inside, but you were steadfastly ignored. His pace suddenly quickened, a low rattling whine escaping his broad chest, and you wailed as he stilled completely buried inside you. You felt his cock jerk and throb followed by a wave of scorching heat soothing your ravaged channel and you screamed in outrage and in despair. Tommy continued to grind into you, riding out his orgasm with small hurt noises escaping his throat, and by the time he was finished you were limp and shivering with shock. Realization of what all just happened rolling through your mind as fast as nausea rolled in your stomach at the feeling of wetness slipping down your thighs. Bile threatened to rise in your throat, silent tears spilling anew down your damp face, and your entire body felt both boiling hot and icy cold.

You wept quietly as he stayed buried inside you. He petted through your hair as if you were a frightened animal, his ragged breathing filling the stuffy air of the shed, and you swore you heard him cooing at you. You felt him lean down and nuzzle the back of your head as his hand moved from your hip to shyly pet over the back of your hand in some twisted form of affection after what just happened. The door suddenly swung open and you didn’t even have the energy to even twitch.

“Atta boy, Tommy! Heard that bitch caterwauling clear down the road!” Charlie shouted with clear glee and humiliation burned in your veins.

You heard the man move closer, no doubt wanting to leer at your crumpled body, but Tommy growled and moved his body more firmly on top of you. As if shielding you from view.

“Aw, what’s this, boy? You finally get your dick wet and now feel like you’re somebody special?” Charlie sneered and you felt the large body on top of you press even tighter to you.

You heard movement around you before a large item wrapped in brown paper tied with twine plopped on the table by your head.

“A deal’s a deal. Don’t be shy now. I’m sure Tommy would love to see you again,” he continued with a wheezing laugh, clearly finding the whole ordeal hilarious, and he walked back out of the shed laughing to himself.

Regret and disgust swirled in your gut at the sight of the paper bag, knowledge of what all transpired making you want to cry all over again, and you let out a small hiccupping sob. Tommy nuzzled into your hair once more, his body relaxing now that Charlie had left, and he resumed his petting. He was letting out a happy garbled sound, clearly not realizing how he had just brutalized you, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

You felt Tommy begin to harden inside you once more.

#Thomas Hewitt #texas chainsaw massacre smut #texas chainsaw massacre 2003 #texas chainsaw massacre the beginning #the texas chainsaw massacre #thomas hewitt smut #thomas hewitt x reader #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher smut #the cryptid posts

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lowkeyremi · 3 months

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Random haikyuu hcs bc im bored ft. mattsun, atsumu, iwa, tendou and kags

Matsukawa Issei definitely sits around looking at instagram posts with you, rating any and everyone.

"Hey stink, what do ya think about her?" He asks waiting for you to lift your head from your phone.

When you do, you're met with a picture of an elderly woman. "Bro... I am not rating somebody's grandma." You push his phone out of your face and he snorts out a laugh.

"I will, she's a ten in my book." A lazy smirk coats his lips and you smack him lightly.

"You're so annoying."

"You love it." He kisses your cheek.

Miya Atsumu will give you kisses to try and gain your attention. He's lonely without your eyes on him.

He goes for your neck this time, placing a small peck on it. When he realizes you haven't stopped looking at your textbook he tries again. Your faux blond boyfriend goes for a kiss on your jaw.

"Hm?" You finally respond.

"Look at me :((("

His pout turns upward when your cute fingers slowly close the big green textbook to give him your full attention.

"I'm looking."

"Good." His smile is so pretty. Sometimes it's hard to believe you're dating him.

Anytime you text Iwaizumi Hajime that you'll be joining him at the gym he'll use heavier weights to impress you.

"Wow Haji, are you sure that isn't heavy?" You ask watching him lift a sixty-five pound dumbbell in one hand. (idk how much guys like iwa usually lift in one hand so spare me) (i don't lift more than 25 lbs in my normal workouts 😭)

"Nah, these are what I usually use." And you find it cute that he thinks you don't notice the way his muscles strain when his arm pumps up and down and he tries to quiet his exhales.

"You don't have to impress me, baby. You're already impressive as is." He sighs in relief, dropping the dumbbell to the ground.

"I don't know who I thought I was fooling." He smiles at you.

Tendou Satori is always humming/singing a song you're thinking about.

"Tori! I was just thinking about that." He hears you gasp in shock and excitement. A cat-like smile expands on his face.

"Damn, I think we have couple telepathy." You'd never heard of that but it sound like Satori to make something like that up.

"Babe, I don't think that's a real thing."

"I made it up right now :D" How could you crush his spirit when he's so cute?

"Okay! Guess what I'm thinking!"

Last but not least, Kageyama Tobio sucks at card games because he's so easy to read.

He thinks he has the upper hand in Uno, but little does he know the mirror he's sitting in front of shows off his cards and you can see the wild card he has.

I mean, it was already obvious by the way he was smirking in a triumphant way. A proud huff escaping his lips.

So you decide to knock him down a few pegs and place your yellow skip down, his face immediately sours and he grunts.

"Uno!" You call out.

"Well good luck I'm sure you don't-"

You place down a draw four and he stops talking to look you dead in your face, "Uno out!" You giggle when he throws the cards down.

"Tch. I hate card games." He says getting up.

"Well maybe, keep your facial expressions in check, baby. You're easy to read like a kid's book." (hehe see what i did there? tendou dub line :3)

#matsukawa issei #matsukawa x reader #issei x reader #issei matsukawa x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hajime iwaizumi #satori tendou x reader #tendou x reader #satori tendou #kageyama tobio #tobio kageyama #kageyama x reader #tobio kageyama x reader

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just-some-random-blogger · 7 months

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Safe Keeping | 1

Part 2

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut (wedding night, loss of virginity, mild dub con, PIV, biting, praise kink), emotional unavailability, The Hound being abrasive, baby fever, typos, etc.

A/N: what do we say to big scary murderers? all together now: i can fix him. the smut is at the end so just keep scrolling to the bottom if you wanna pass (: originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx

A collective gasp resonates in the hall upon the utterance of the proclamation. The blonde boy basks in the reaction. I release a breath, hand on my churning belly, as I stand there in front of the Iron Throne. The agitation that filled me threatened to spill from my lips when I curtsied to the king. But by the gods, I manage to mutter, "you have honored me with such a decision, your grace."

King Joffrey smirks, "yes," he shifts in his seat, "I have." He stands from the throne and raises a beckoning hand, "dog!"

All eyes turn to one corner.

The rustle of fabric and the clink of steel fill the hall. I watch as he walks towards me. I watch the large man, clad in darkness from head to toe, hand on his hilt, face adorned with a large burn, come to my side but pay me no mind. He turns to his king, "your grace."

"My king," queen Cersei mutters to her son, "he is a member of the Kingsguard, he cannot--"

"My word is law, is it not?" the boy says.

His mother looks at him then us, and says no word.

Joffrey grins, "I present your new ward," he raises his arms, "orphaned at war, parents and brothers dead, house left with no heirs. She turned to me for counsel," he points to his chest, "for she would die on her own. And now I give her you," he clasps his hands, "to have and to hold in holy matrimony."

The room is dead silent.

"Consider it a gift for your loyal service," he turns to me, "a rather generous one, given your infliction," he turns back to him.

The man on my side nods once.

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes."

I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine father."

A loud and shrill laugh echoes in the chamber, demanding everyone's attention. Joffrey wheezes until he's red and tumbles back into his metal chair. He catches his breath and nods, "he- mmm, he would," he chuckles.

The king settles himself and waves us off, "go forth and make arrangements then, my lady. Your protector awaits."

I flinch at the way the wooden door is opened. Sandor stands before me, in a dress shirt and a scowl, leaning against the opening of his chamber door. I look away and curtsy, "good morrow, Lord Sandor," I steal a quick glance at Lucy by my left, "I've had my handmaiden prepare f-"

"Hound."

I lift my eyes to his face. The sour expression he held is amplified by the scar on his side. His eyes burn into me. "They call me the Hound," he grunts, "y'know that?"

I clasp my hands in front of me and open my mouth before muttering, "yes. Yes, I do."

"Then save me of this lord business," he straightens up and walks off inside his chambers. I watch him as much as I can from where I stood outside his room. I pipe up when he is no longer in eye's view, "may I come in?"

"Door's open, isn't it?"

I look at Lucy hesitantly, motioning she stay outside. I push the door wider and walk in, seeing Sandor was now getting dressed.

I stare at him for a moment, pressing my hands closer together, "would you like for me to he-"

"I'm not the king who has a bitch for every task."

I clench my jaw at his icy words.

Sandor begins to do his clasps, "why are you here, girl?"

He does not look at me after asking. I purse my lips before replying, "I am heading to the tailor to pick fabrics and-"

"Why isn't the tailor coming here?" he asks, still focused on dressing himself.

Sandor finally turns to me after fixing his top. I look up at him, feeling a dread build in my belly, "I wanted to go outside."

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head. He takes steps closer.

My lips part. I blurt, "the palace is too stuffy."

"Stuffy?" he retorts, "I wonder how large your house is if you find it stuffy here."

I shake my head, "I did not mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?" Sandor says, tilting down to look upon me once he is close enough. I am unable to withhold myself from stepping back. I mutter, "there are many... looming presences. It's overwhelming."

"Looming, she says," he grumbles. "Well, little lady, you're going to be shackled to me, and I'm shackled here. You'll have to get used to these looming presences."

I turn away from him and take a breath. Must he speak to me like I'm a child? "I understand that."

"No, I don't think you do," he says.

I look back at him. His gaze is as hard as ever.

"The moment a thing like you is outside the castle walls, thieves and rapists will fight to getcha," he walks off, "get your footman to escort you right in front of the shop and back."

I furrow my brows as he heads to the door, "wait, what about you?"

He stops right in front of Lucy and turns back, "what about me?"

"I'm going to the tailor to be fitted a dress for our wedding," I explain, "I came here to bring you along with me," I point to the woman at his side, "Lucy has made food for you to-"

"Why would I go with you to a tailor?"

Will he ever let me finish speaking? I hold back my annoyed expression, "you need to be fitted for your wedding at-"

"I'm not your dress up dolly," he grumbles, face pinched in disgust, "I'll be wearing my armor and that's that."

We stare at each other for a moment. I watch as Lucy glares at Sandor from behind. I clench my jaw tightly before curtsying, "as you wish, my lord-"

"Hound," he barks.

I look at him in shock, "you wish me to call you hound?"

He narrows his eyes and scoffs, "it's what I am-- what you're marrying, isn't it?"

I debate his words, unsure if he meant it or if it was a trick, a reason for him to be angry at me, "may I call you by name?"

He feels disdain burn up from his belly to his throat, "what? Too good to admit that-"

"That is not what I said!" I quip hotly.

The hulking man is rendered silent. He did not expect that. Still, he decides not to respond and walks away.

I scoff when he does so.

Lucy makes a face at him before coming up to me, offering a remorseful look, "he's a brute, milady! Rugged and ugly and mean!"

"Lucy," I warn as she takes my arm and escorts me out. She closes the door on our way and makes a face, "he's a thickheaded oaf!" she glares behind her to no one, "he's lucky-- blessed by all gods to be promised to a lady like you, and he treats you as though you were the degene-"

"Lucy!" I quip, yanking her by the arm.

She is finally silenced because of this. We both halt in our spot.

I hiss, "if someone were to hear you, if he were to hear you..." I shake my head, "he is my lord now. He is your lord."

Lucy grumbles.

"If it could be, I would not marry anyone," I tell her under a hushed voice, "but you know that cannot be."

We begin to walk down the hall. I continue, "I had thought I'd end with an old lord, eager to inherit my estate and esteem," I shake my head, "shocking as it was to be thrown like a bone to him..." I look out the open windows, "at least... the Hound... can protect me," I look back to Lucy, "protect us."

Lucy's face falls solemn. We hold each other's gaze for a moment. She then offers, "you're right. Them forest monsters will cower in fear at the mere sight of the 'ound."

We head to the castle gates, "do you think the guards will let us-"

"We'll walk, Lucy," I reply.

"What?! But the Hound said-"

"He expected me to have footmen and you know well that I don't. I do not think it would be appropriate to instruct the servants here to go out of their way for us. Besides, the shop is not far, you know this."

"But, Lady, I- I can drive the carriage again!"

I shake my head, "don't be ridiculous, Lucy. Do you know how silly we'd look galloping in a carriage for just a few streets down the city?"

Lucy is unable to talk me into any of her ideas. We ask the guards let us through the gate then walk to the tailor.

Once there, I am greeted by the tailor and immediately attended to.

Lucy and I go through the fabrics together. I laugh at her sentiment that all the fabrics would look good on me.

"Here," the tailor says, placing a strip of fabric on my shoulder, "I think this would suit you well, lady."

I look at myself in the mirror just as Lucy says, "that's it! That's the one!"

"Lucy," I chuckle, "you've said that about all the fabrics thus far."

"And I meant it every time!" she retorts, "but this one, this one is truly better than all the rest."

I look at myself in the mirror, "this one is actually quite pretty," I agree, "it's a very pale shade of red, but I quite enjoy it."

"It is all the rage with the ladies at court," the tailor says.

I smile, "very well. I should like to have this for my wedding dress."

Lucy squeals and applauds.

"A fine choice, my lady," the tailor nods and finishes measuring me.

The moment Lucy and I exit the tailor shop, we are scared by a loud holler. We turn to our side and see the mighty Hound, leaned against the wall. He straightens up and marches towards me.

"My Lord Sand-"

"What did I tell you about going outside the castle?" he barks, glaring down at me. His nostrils flare. His jaw clenches. My stomach rolls.

I give him a look and push Lucy behind me, "there was no dange-

"That's what you think. But tell me, what do little girls know but to play dress up?"

I whimper when he grabs my arm and drags me like an unruly child all the way back to the palace. I do not try to fight him. I know I will only hurt and tire myself if I do.

"Maybe I should let the peasants have at you," he mutters, side-eyeing me hotly, "teach you a lesson."

"Let her go!" Lucy shrieks.

He threatens to strike her when she tires to pull me away. I shout in protest. Sandor huffs and decides to simply continue dragging me.

The moment we are past the gates, he releases me roughly, making me yelp. Lucy grabs my arm and checks if I am injured.

Sandor eyes every one of the men present, "I'll make a jump rope out of the entrails of whoever fucking lets her out again."

The Hound storms off, leaving me and my handmaiden reeling and everyone else uneasy.

Sandor walks down the halls across the keep. He notices a guard looking down from the window. He wonders if he should push him for no other reason than the fact that he can.

He doesn't. He goes downstairs. He furrows his brows at the sight of men huddled together, looking at something in the gardens. He realizes it's most likely the same thing the man upstairs was looking at.

He walks their way, because he has to anyway, but is, frankly, uninterested in whatever the fuck has these men gawking.

On his way to his insufferable master, he passes Baelish, who is seemingly chipper to see him. The man smiles, "greetings, Hound."

The Hound ignores him.

"Pretty little thing in the garden. A darling flower, ready to be plucked," Baelish smirks as he watches the large man pass, "our king truly blessed you with such a match."

His expression does not change but his ears do ring at that as he walks down the hall.

He wills himself not to think of it, Littlefinger is a leech, but by the end of the day, his words are still ringing in mind. How irritating it was, suddenly, that he did not look at whatever the fuck it was those men were gawking at.

He's fuming at the sight of more men flocked by the garden when he reaches that hall again.

"OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!" he growls, thrashing past anyone who was slow and stupid enough not to get out of his path in time.

Sandor's eye twitches as when he sees what the commotion is all about.

"So, the princess said to him, 'away with you. I would rather never feel your kiss than yearn for something I will never feel again.' " I read the last section of the page. I flip to the next part and offer a smile to the children leaned on my lap listening to my story.

"Why would she tell him to go away?" Benji asked me from my right.

Lucy, beside him, chuckles and brushes his hair back,

I offer, "well, the prince had to go away. I suppose the princess just wanted it to be done with."

To my left, Ophelia, the boy's younger sister, pushes the book in my hand down so that she can see the picture. I show it to her just as Benji says, "she should have kissed him."

I chuckle, "well, maybe she will. There are a few more pages le-"

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

I gasp and look up. A protective form of ire burns through me at the sound of Sandor's words. The two siblings in my arm squeal at the sight of him and cower into my breast. I glare at him, "there are children here!"

"I can bloody see that," he looks down with contempt, "what? Are they your bastards?"

Lucy takes hold of the children.

"They are not bastards!" I rebut, "they are my childhood friend, Lady Deena's children, who, mind you, travelled far to King's Landing for our wedding!"

"I don't give a fuck about Lady Deenas or Lady Danas. Couldn't you have read to the rats in your damn chambers, girl?"

I give my handmaiden one look and, immediately, Lucy takes Benji and Ophelia along with their fairytale book. They scurry away to their chambers as the children clamor.

I stand from the stone fence we had been sat on, "we wanted fresh air."

"You wanted attention," the Hound quips.

I am wholly offended by his accusation. Now that I was standing alone in front of him, my confidence from having something to protect dwindles. I don't get to ask from whom he thought I wanted attention because he's soon berating me all over again. He quips, "does it please you to know all the guards in King's Landing want to fuck a baby into you?"

I am appalled by his venom.

He grabs me by the arm and begins hauling me off. A squeak spills from my lips at his brute force. Part of me wishes to fight back this time; I do not want him to humiliate me by dragging me around again. And yet I find myself unable to do anything more than latch my fingers into his iron grip, trying to at least loosen it.

Sandor, of course, does not budge.

"Is it a crime to read to children?!" I whine out in frustration, finding it immensely difficult to keep up to with his wide strides.

He does not make a sound, save the sound of his boots on the stone floors. I pant as we hike up the steps, yet still, I find myself explaining, "I would have done the same to our children!"

I do not see that Sandor reacts to this because I am too busy trying to match his pace.

I thank the gods when he finally releases me. When I catch my breath, I realize I am in front of the door to my chambers.

"Do not stroll around as if you actually live here," Sandor quips, raising a finger at me.

"But I do-"

"Last time I checked, you're not marrying into royalty," he cuts me off.

I watch the large man walk off right after speaking this. I rub my arm as I feel my eyes water. More than his heavy grip, I was once again hurt by his jagged treatment. My voice breaks as I shout out, "wou-ld you at least tell me what exactly I've done to have angered you so?!"

He does not slow, nor does he look over his shoulder when he barks back, "I don't want to see you fucking reading to those children again."

Needless to say, I crumble into a fit of tears the moment I get into my chambers.

When Lucy comes to my side on my bed, he curses the Hound and does her best to console me. She rubs my back as I weep my woes out into my pillow, "oh, Lucy, he doesn't just despise me, he despises children!"

Lucy scoffs, "why am I not surprised."

She regrets saying this when I turn to her with wet cheeks and bloodshot eyes. She gives a guilty expression, "milady, I-"

"That's all I ever wanted," I sniffle, "all I ever dreamed of-" my lips quiver, "being a mother. Having children. You know this."

Lucy bites her lips tightly as I continue to sob. She mutters, "pardon my foolish words, lady."

"Oh, what does it matter-" I rub my philtrum, "you're right. This is not a surprising development."

"You can still get him to give you his babes! Men like making babies, not really taking care of them. And of course, I would never leave your side. I would help you raise your darlings, protect them from him," she speaks sincerely. I knew her words meant to comfort me but in truth, I don't think they do.

It seems she can tell that, which is why she's apologizing all over again.

I shake my head and place my hand on her cheek, "it's alright, Lucy... you needn't worry... it's all... going to be alright.

Sandor and I look starkly contrasting at the altar. He is dark and brooding, clad in hard armor and a perpetual frown. I am bright and jittery, wrapped in pale reds and nervous smiles.

The septon binds our hands together in fabric. We turn to each other as we speak our vows.

My heart races when we are told to kiss. I suck in a breath and get on my tiptoes to reach his lips. I crane my neck up; he makes no effort to lean down in return. Still, our lips meet and in that moment, I am his.

The audience applauds us, the sound of King Joffrey's laugh is apparent even through it. Our wedding was not a grand event; the king wanted it to happen in haste, and I could not afford to make it a grand anyway. There were also not so many people in attendance, and yet it felt like the whole world was watching me in this moment.

The celebration feast that came after was terribly tedious and severely unenjoyable for me, and for Sandor. Everyone else seemed to enjoy the merrymaking though, namely the king, and I suppose that was enough.

I did nothing but smile and thank my guest from my seat next to Sandor. He did not speak to me, let alone anyone who came up to us with congratulations on their lips. All he did was eat. I suppose it could be worse. At least one of us could stomach eating at this moment.

The only life I felt was when I was introduced to a babe of one of the ladies. The sweetling had only seen 4 moons and she was as sweet as can be. She was so precious. I just had to hold her. I was inspired to even stand and frolic a bit with her in my arms.

Her mother and I conversed much about babies and child rearing. My stomach rolled in a mix of excitement, dread, anticipation, and worry all at once, knowing this was to be the next part of my life now.

I enjoyed all the stories she told me. I was flattered when she said I would be a great mother, for her child in my arms did not fuss one bit and she was known to be quite fussy. I giggled at all the wonderful memories she had with her other children who, she said, were even fussier than her daughter. I nodded solemnly at her advice in child birth and breastfeeding, making sure not to let a single word go unheard.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Sandor was watching this all from his spot with the cup of wine before him. He did not avert his eyes once; he watched each and every move.

Well, it was unbeknownst to everyone excluding Lord Baelish, who was rather amused by it all, which was why he decided to act.

"Lady Clegane," Lord Baelish comes up to me and raises a hand, "might you spare me a dance?"

I turn form the babe in my arms to him. I smile a small one, "I'm afraid my darling friend here makes me unwilling to do anything but coddle her."

The child's mother on my left laughs, as does Baelish. He links his hands together, "well, judging from your darling friend's temperament, I'd say you would be a fine mother."

"I agree," the lady says.

I grin from ear to ear, heart soaring at the sentiment, "I would like to be nothing more."

Baelish presses his lips into a smirk, "may the gods bless you with many children then," he raises his hands "and may they all take after your sweetness, grace, and beauty."

The way Baelish speaks those words were intentional, as was everything was with him. The comment leaves an air of tension between us. The man basks in it and decides his work is done here.

"I-It is kind of the king to assign a larger room," I muster up as I walk into my new chambers-- our new chambers.

Sandor follows after me, locking the door behind him. He hums, "I doubt it was the king that thought of it. It was probably the queen."

I stand by the end of the bed. I brush the sheets with my hand. I mutter a correction, "kind of her to think of us."

When I turn, my breath hitches at the sight of Sandor standing right behind me. I suck in a sharp breath as I take in his expression. His face is barely visible in the dark. I can only see as much as the moon allowed. Still, I can tell he is stoic, hard, and predatory. This was it.

My hands tremble. I fiddle with my fingers, "shall I-" I bring my palms to his chest plate, "help you out of your armor?"

Sandor does not respond to me.

"H-husband?"

He takes my hand, taking a shaky breath from my lips along with him. He leads me to his claps and shows me how to undo them before releasing my hand to do it myself. I continue to undo all the claps until his armor is off him. When he is left in his shirt and trousers, he snatches my wrists before I can undress him any further. I freeze in my spot.

My belly churns at his touch. It is reminiscent of the times he has dragged me by the arm, and yet the firm grip is a notch gentler. The way is brows furrow is barely visible because of his burns, but I see it. He leans down and his dark hair spills over his scar, "do you know what's going to happen now, little girl?"

My breath hitches. I take a moment to even my breathing before responding, "yes."

He hums and lifts his nose, "what's going to happen?"

"You're going to fuck me."

Sandor laughs lowly. I am shocked when he swipes his thumb on my lips, "filthy mouth."

I look up at him with wide eyes as his own rake me up and down. I feel incredibly self-conscious under his scrutiny. I want to push him away and hide under the sheets. Yet still, I am rendered frozen in my spot.

"Tell me honest, have you ever done this before?" he speaks rather softly.

I feel my body burn. I shake my head, unable to speak.

Sandor allows me a second. He believes it yet finds it hard to believe. "I would not judge you if you did," he adds.

I shake my head faster.

He draws out a deep breath, "no, of course you haven't--" he grabs my ribs and spins me around. The action makes my heart hammer. He pushes my hair to the side, over my shoulder. I squeak softly when he begins to undo the back of my dress. He completes his thought, "-- you're a good girl."

Though he was loosening my ties, I was finding it harder to breathe. He very soon slips my dress off my shoulders, leaving me in my shift. After doing so, he begins to remove the pins in my hair. It takes a while for him to accomplish it. I count the clinks that come from him dropping the clips onto the floor.

When he is done, he gently combs through my locks and lets my hair run loose. It was then he nudges me, "on the bed. On your back."

I shudder and crawl on the bed. I watch him take his shirt off the moment I lie on my back. I immediately turn away and close my eyes when I notice his bulge. His hands undo the string of his trousers.

I press my thighs together. I feel my heart pound. It pounds intensely between my legs.

"Aren't you curious to see what it looks like?"

I curl my legs up at his words.

I gasp and flinch when he grabs my ankles, my eyes ripping open to see what he was doing. He straightens my legs out and pulls me down; I gasp once more when he does so.

I catch sight of his opened trousers. I see the way the hair on his wide, battle-scarred chest trails down to the thick, dark hair beneath his navel. I see the imprint on his pants clearer. I shut my eyes again.

I hear him pull his trousers down. I feel the bed dip as he crawls over.

My hands dig into the sheets as he knocks my legs apart. I am passive and obedient; I make room for him. I can hear my pulse from my screwed eyes.

Goosebumps form on my skin when Sandor's hot, calloused fingers brush up my thighs. He lightly kneads my flesh. The action almost makes me moan. He stops and pushes my skirt up when he feels something by my hips, "where did you get this?"

I feel him ghost over the deep scar on my left hip. I cover my face in the crook of my elbows, "I was attacked."

He does not respond.

"That was the day my family died."

Sandor feels bad for asking. He feels a bit more when the thought does not prevent his cock from hardening. He adjusts his grip, hiking my shift up higher. His hands claw on my hips but only one remains. His mouth waters.

I gasp and slap my thighs close, or at least try to, when I feel him brush something firm and damp against my pulsing core. He uses the sheer size of him to prevent me from actually pressing my thighs together.

"Shh, shh, shh, shh-" he tuts, "this is for your own good. Believe me."

My toes curl and my hands dig into my pillow as he fondles with me. The sensation makes my body twitch and the wet squelching sound that pierces my ears fill me up with an unnamable sensation. Soon enough though, I feel myself become undeniably aroused.

My hips begin to roll and my back begins to arch.

Sandor grunts and licks his lips, loving every moment of his private show, "good girl."

His words strike up my belly like lightning.

Lewd sounds begin to dribble past my lips. I feel my body begin to tingle. The sopping sounds intensify.

"Feel good?" he asks, "you like it?"

I find no room to deny it. I instantly respond, "yes."

"Good," he trails off.

My grip on the pillows loosen when he begins to slow. I bring my hands to the side when he falls to a stop. Just as I am about to look down to see what was wrong, my heart races all over again when he hooks his fingers behind my knees and nestles between my thighs. He positions against me. I feel him guide his hardened length into my folds.

I let out a loud groan when he slips into my wetness. He grunts and cusses as he sinks down, balls deep. My nails claw at his shoulders. He pushes my knees back to the mattress. Surprisingly, the weight of him is not suffocating, in fact, it was welcomed... it was delicious.

I whine viscerally when he begins to buck his hips slowly.

"Mmm, fuck," he pants, "so fucking tight. So pretty and wet and warm, my sweet virgin."

My jaw drops at his words.

"My sweet lady wife," he growls, "all," he drags out, "mine."

My breath strains and escapes my throat hotly. My sounds match each of his thrusts; they are deep and lewd. Sandor's male ego is through the roof because it if. He slowly picks up the pace.

I am a mess of whines at the feel his manhood stretching and prodding into me. My body shivers every time he collides with the tender spot in me. It feels so good; it's nothing I've felt before.

Sandor grunts and shifts on his knees. He adjusts me beneath him like I weighed nothing, and maybe I didn't to him. I slip out a scream when he batters into me with such delicious force.

"Shhhhh," he hushes shakily, hands forcing my hips down in place so I didn't shoot off as he snapped his hips into me. With every hit of flesh, his stones knocking into me, his wet skin, slapping into my dripping folds, I feel my body burn and tighten more.

"Don't be too loud," he scolds emptily, for in truth, he would love it if he got something even louder. He leans lower, "wouldn't want you to wake all of King's Landing." But please do.

His words momentarily push sense into my mind. It doesn't last. I can barely mask my loud cries and he fucks into me. My nails dig into his scalp. He lets out a sound because of it.

Sandor shifts again. This time, his buries his face next to mine. He presses against me, chest to chest, grabs the bed frame with one hand, my knee with the other, and rams into me so hard, the bed creaks and knocks into the wall.

My eyes roll back and my open mouth latches onto his shoulder. I naturally then sink my teeth in is taut flesh. It does wonders to muffle my sounds but it pulls out some from Sandor.

"Gods, girl. Yeah," he heaves, "sink your," he gives two particularly rough thrusts, "fucking teeth into me."

My breathing grows erratic after this. An intense pressure begins to build in my belly.

"S-Sandor- Sandor-"

He hums and maintains his intense pace, "come girl. Just a bit more. Come around my cock like a good, dirty girl."

His words push me on the edge. I crumble and convulse beneath him exactly like it, a good, dirty girl. My voice is just as shaky as my thighs are. My body bursts into an intense, burning pleasure.

My body drips in sweat and slick and spit and tears, all purely out of bliss. All the air is pulled out of my lungs as I fall into this feeling.

Sandor curses. His thrusts grow erratic. I would scream if I wasn't so winded and exhausted. He stabs so roughly into me, I flinch because it feels like he's hitting the very depths of my mind. Then, he breaks into a growl and I feel him throb so strongly until his movements come to a halt.

Once he is still, I am obliterated. I cannot move. I can only feel heat and pulsing. I feel terribly sticky and so full. I love every inch of it.

I sigh and lean into him. I can imagine now why many paid for this pleasure, why people had so many children. My fingers scratch into his nape. I rub my face against his cheek; I feel the texture of his burn. Sandor stiffens.

The next moment, he pulls away, and it was then I realized doing that, nuzzling into him, was obviously a mistake. I gasp at the sudden lost of contact, the emptiness. I watch him jump out of the bed, as if I was fire and I had burned him. I press my thighs together and push my skirt down, feeling shame wash over me as I watched him tuck himself into his trousers like he was eager to leave me.

And he looked exactly like he meant to leave me at this moment.

"Where are you going?" I ask him, but my voice is so small and unsure that he doesn't hear it.

He grabs his shirt and puts it on. He heads to the door, unlocks it quickly, and insults me by saying, "good night."

1K notes · View notes

onyourhyuck · 5 months

Text

Animal Instinct. | NCT SERIES

Title: CHAPTER 1 ‘The Untamed.’

— Prologue: “When the sun sets meet me at my apartment, if you dare.”

— Summary: You are a marine biologist. You should be able to understand animals and their way of living. When you encounter a new society in a bar under the name ‘Sour Grapes’ you find yourself in a troubling situation with seven different men. Seven different animals.

— Genre: Smut with plot. Minors dni. Fantasy with modern timeline. Female!reader. Secondary genders (but with animals) dreamies are complete red flags. Dub-con. Everything is very dark romance related. Nothing here is for the weak. Everything is just pure filth. It gets progressively worse and worse. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation. Pet names such as ‘my pretty whore’ or ‘princess’ — minor hair pulling, Fingering (female receiving). Creampie, cumming inside / no protection please use a condom.

— Notes: I APOLOGISE FOR TAKING SO LONG. BUT HERE IT IS. MORE FREQUENT UPDATES COMING UP.

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One thing you love about yourself is that your work basically shapes your entire routine. You love walking inside your laboratory seeing the animals in the tanks you have to take care of and examine. This included various important research that no one should know. It is highly top secret. A simple leak of what you collect samples from the sea or other animal biology from biomes and journals you keep could really be a mess for you.

Working on separating the two and three sides of the samples you have listed from the deep oceans all throughout different sights. You felt a hand approaching behind you quickly.

The man taps your shoulders when you’re so busy working with the test tubes. “Hey Y/n mind giving me—” you jump and turn around with a fright.

“Seriously Johnny! I told you not to sneak up on me like this. Especially when I’m working with these highly reactive test tubes.” You scowled at your coworker, Johnny Suh. He was one of your friends and coworkers. Wearing a white cloak and round black glasses on.

He was a handsome fella. Very charming and handsome you have to admit it. Johnny can be professional but he could also be quite a mood maker in such a serious profession.

Laughing at your unusual behaviour, you’re never this jumpy when you are working but he probably assumes he scared you to death. “What got you so anxious Y/n? You never get scared when i do this.” Johnny raised an eyebrow. He swore he could see your own soul leave your body.

Truth be honest ever since that night with Ningning all you are thinking about how your entire life has been a lie. Sour Grape’s has taken your mind over. No. Mark has taken your entire mind off and away from your daily routines. Everyday you’re thinking about ‘How can this be possible?’ Humans coming from other animals and not just monkeys. It’s insane information. You shouldn’t be believing this but when Jaehyun said it’s a secret; it makes you think there must be some truth to it.

No one on earth would make up such a stupid fairytale on the spot.

If you weren’t a marine biologist with side degrees of zoology you’re just the type of person to not let this slide. You want to learn more.

You want to experience the truth. You want to see if it’s the truth if they actually are who they are setting themselves to be.

Letting out soft mumbles as you close off the testing tubes, afterwards putting the collective tubes in the stirring device. “I haven’t slept well for the past few days. Sorry if i seem like I’m on the edge.”

He gave you a soft smirk leaning on the side of the table while watching you. “Oh honey you seem like you’re more than on the edge. You’re off the edge.” Your eyes make eye contact after you were done with your tasks.

Your friend trails now questioning you as you’re looking at him with a soft look that made your thoughts even worse.

“What’s on your mind, Y/n?” Johnny asked with a small smile. You shake your head, you don’t want to share something so crazy. He might think you’re actually insane, or worse, he might even think you lost your entire marbles.

“Nothing serious, John. Let’s just finish up and go home. I’m tired.” You excused yourself from the conversation to finish up. The only thing you want to do today is figure out what to eat for dinner.

Walking down the street to your favourite food truck, you decided to take your mind off whatever you were thinking for the past week or so.

You felt like your brain was just constantly going back to the same topic and it was draining truth be honest. What better way to distract yourself than to eat your favourite stir fry noddles?

Being a local customer the food truck owner gives you discounts nowadays because you were a customer for a long time. A regular at that.

“Hey I would like the usual.” You gave a smile at the owner who nodded seemingly being happy to seeing you drop by.

“I was beginning to think you’d never return, Y/n.” Said the truck owner and you gave a little smirk. “How could I not return? You make the best noodles.” Complimenting them they blushed and started making the noodles for you.

But then something flashed behind you at a fast pace. You didn’t even realise it until the figure stood overshadowed by their body remaining still as a statue.

Gawking at the menu on the side. Your eyes widen when you turned around with disbelief flashing over your lips and cheeks.

“Young man what would you like?” The owner interrupts your own lingering thoughts of shock. The voice, the sound of his breathing, everything else made you feel so small and in danger just by the presence alone of this man.

He looks back from the menu. “The original stir fry m’am.”

You did not realise you were literally staring Mark down in this moment until his face turned over to you and you quickly looked away biting your bottom lip, staring at your very own feet on the ground. You can’t believe it that Mark and you crossed paths when all you’ve been saying is how you’re going to distract yourself finally!

What was this coincidence? Fate? Destiny?

There was this expression on his face that falters when he finally acknowledges your existence. It’s like he met you before but he was trying to find out from where.

And then it hits him. You were the one with Jaehyun that one night.

The dark tone of voice strikes you like a knife behind your back if anything. “You’re that girl at the bar that one time.” Mark said to you, turning to look at you fully with his entire body now facing you.

You definitely caught the predator’s attention now with how easy you’re to read. God you hate being so readable like an open book — a very non interesting book at that.

You fake a smile, maybe if you just pretend you don’t know him he will give up speaking to you. “Oh no, I don’t attend bars. I’m… allergic to alcohol.” You cringe deep inside when you made up the most stupid excuse.

Really? Allergy? He didn’t even ask about your allergies.

Mark frowns which lead you to believe he wasn’t completely swayed by your own actions right now. You forget how much of animal instincts he must have by now. You can’t fool a tiger easily.

“You must’ve mixed me up with someone else.” You said quietly trying to make it seem more and more believable if you just keep talking.

Thankfully you were praying for your meal to arrive first beforehand he got his. The prayer was answered when you grab your plastic container smiling and thanking them. You literally dashed away but why try to run away?

Trying to out run one of the most dangerous cats you probably made the worst mistake to even show a hint of speed in your movements.

When you were to reach your destination to your car the same black towering figure stands over you. In front of you with a dark gaze.

You let out a mini gasp to be honest, you feel like your heart is being crushed by two large walls that keep on moving forward and forward until your heart and lungs collapse.

Mark sighs. “You know that I can hear your beating heart when you lie?” He said rather amused but also it was eerily like a reminiscing threat thrown at you. You stand there quivering, trembling even, and it made Mark so much more entertained than he thought he would be.

He took a step forward. The stir fry plastic box was shaking in very discreet manner in your hands. Each step he takes you took three steps backwards.

This was a new cat and mouse game you didn’t want to be playing with him at all.

“Y/n was it? Jaehyun mentioned you.” Mark said with a little more confidence now that he actually had you cornered. Now you cannot lie on the spot and try to run away from him.

It’s ridiculous. He looks and was human but in reality he’s not just entirely human is he? He’s a freaking tiger with probably the most define genetics. It’s crazy to you.

You mumble trying to get away still. There was just this instinct inside you to make excuses until you can’t anymore. “Sorry i have to go, i am extremely busy.”

Your heartbeat picked up again, Mark sighs pressing an arm around your body and now moved you to sit down at a bench in the scene. You flinch and he forced you to sit down in front of him with his dark eyes watching you. “Another lie. You must enjoy lying a lot don’t you?”

You look away. You’re watching anything but him. “What do you want from me? I swear I don’t… I don’t know anything.” You’re trying your best to make this situation just deescalate.

He grinned amused. “Well that’s also a lie.” He said sitting down next to you on the bench as your heart was racing incredibly fast. Mark thought you might die on the spot if you keep stressing yourself out.

You took a little breath when he sat down next to you which seemed a little less nerve wrecking.

Eventually your heart calmed down when the silence overtook you both. Mark makes a quick glance over at you again, and he continues to speak when he waited for your nerves to sort themselves out.

You sigh. “I didn’t know you liked this place.” You tried to make a conversation as well but you weren’t sure how well he will respond to it.

Heck you don’t know this guy at all.

“I like it. I’m a regular here.” Mark said with a smirk and he moves a bit closer to you now, he opens up his plastic box of stir fry and starts to eat it with the plastic fork you’d get at a restaurant or other food trucks.

You saw him eating and you slowly shift to open your stir fry. But to be honest you’re too scared to even eat in front of him. You’re trying to act normal though. So you take a piece and ate slowly your own food along with Mark. The man kept watching you even though he ate. But you’re avoiding to even acknowledge him so much.

“Y/n do i scare you?” He was quite blunt and upfront. You flinched when he mentions the exact words you’re feeling.

You awkwardly chuckle and put down the fork. “Is it that obvious?”

Mark scoffs a bit. “You didn’t try to hide it.” He leans away and ate some more, you felt a bit less scared and now more guilty. Now that you think about it he seems like a normal guy now.

“Sorry. What Jaehyun said to me that night at the bar messed with my brain.” You admit it, which made the man next to you smirk. “You know I’m human as well. But I do admit it was fun seeing you trembling.” There was a sense of eeriness in his words but at the same time you were watching him.

He admitted to you that watching you embarrass yourself in front of him was a thrilling show but you decided to just not respond to it.

You didn’t even know what to say back anyways.

“So… are you actually…” your voice trails off unable to think of how to say this. How do you even phrase this?

Mark saw your expression like it was the most readable thing he has ever laid eyes on. He leans forward putting the plastic box down. “Part Tiger?” He spoke those words right out of your throat. You bite your inner cheek nodding.

“Is it true?” You asked with your eyes widen.

He grinned and stands up, putting hands in the front jean pockets he then turns around to you rather amused by your curiosity.

Has no one ever told you that curiosity killed the cat? You’re like a small, tiny cat who can’t keep their nose out of something that wasn’t their business.

It felt rather authentic for you though. Most people are just nosey but you seem to be curious because you want to discover something new.

And that is exactly what Mark likes about you. Your intentions are something he hasn’t seen before. Leaning forward he writes something on the paper and passed it to you, with the same hand you saw the large metal ring with the tiger engraved on it. Grabbing the piece of paper you look cautiously from the paper towards Mark’s dark gaze.

“When the sun sets meet me at my apartment, if you dare.” He said to you simply.

Just like a tiger he caught you by surprise with how sharp his tone of voice was full of silky seriousness. And then he disappeared into thin air as well. You only looked away for a second just for Mark to be gone in front of you.

Leaving you questioning if you should take the bait and go to his apartment even though that sounds like some kind of messed up plan.

For once you were dreading the sun setting. Getting out of your car you look back at the paper in your hand and then your eyes fall back on the complex building in the front.

The address that brought you to this place makes you both anxious and excited. You have many running thoughts on your journey going inside. Every single muscle contraction meant you were growing close and closer to danger.

Slipping your hand over the doorknob you didn’t even knock, the door opened up with the man revealing in front of you.

Mark heard you from a mile away. He knew you’d come and he was right when you stood in front of him with a stunned look.

You really do make him feel like he’s hunting you down.

“Come on in Y/n, I don’t bite.” Mark smirked seeing your hesitation as your eyes peek inside the apartment before your whole body walks in. Mark closed the door after you fully enter.

There was a lack of trust between you two but for some you are wanting to trust this man. You don’t know why but you know one thing for sure; he has bland furniture. All neutral colours and very modern in his apartment.

You tread carefully and put your purse bag down on the couch nearby as you stand in middle of his apartment. Your gaze follows where Mark was on the wall leaning one side of his shoulders on it, the muscular arms crossed together and the lower body curved towards the right side.

Breathing hitching you feel it becoming a round ball in your throat. “So Mark will you admit that what I know is true?”

You came for the truth only. But to Mark he wanted more from you than just to give you a simple truth. He wanted to take a taste of something much better than any truth could provide him or to you.

The body slips off the wall approaching you slowly while his gaze was rather intense and playful while watching you.

“I don’t think I can prove anything verbally to you.” Mark whispers gaining a closer look at your face and the natural scent of your body blending in with the morning coffee you drank as well as your floral perfume; creating this intoxicating sensation in the nasal passages. Mark could crawl to you just by the smell of your own skin.

Hands slowly moving to your waist pulling you closer by an inch your feet trotting forward in little steps towards his body. “But I can show you how a tiger has it’s fun?” He smirks brushing the hot breath escaping from his mouth down to your neckline, while his large eyes are watching you keenly to see your reaction for approval.

Goosebumps evoked on your skin when the tiniest touch of his fingers kneading on your waist bringing you closer to him made you fall into this trance; a trap in other words you’re not escaping a primal animal’s desire at all.

He lifts his head only a little, waiting for your lips to give him consent or a sign of any sorts. But you seemed to stunned and even timid.

The reasoning of you coming to his apartment wasn’t to sleep with him. But the idea of sleeping with someone as magnetic and attractive as him clouds your judgemental. You’re a smart woman you know that and even Mark knows it; you know your stuff. But you certainly look tempted by the invitation.

The only thing you could think about was how badly you want to kiss his lips in that moment. Swiftly you press your hands up to his jawline and pull him in with a sudden kiss when your decision was made finally. Your sudden lips and the taste of them lingering in the air stunned the tiger but you soon felt his hands clawing at your hips lifting you up with his arm muscles — bringing forward your body against a nearby wall as your mouths clashed like two boulders in action. Fighting for something you would like to say is survival; survival of the fittest.

Grunting at the smallest thing, Mark enjoyed hearing them a lot, even the clawing he did down your back and to cup your round ass made you grind up against his body in a friction. Your reactions were what made Mark’s instincts going up the roof. The inner animal was raging from just how much you do this to him. You look ethereal and vulnerable.

Your tongues are tied like a knot together constantly trying to go back and forth only to end up pushing and pulsing instead. Your hair was a mess from just the heated makeout with the man who did not show you a signal mercy.

Running your hands through his hair was probably the most difficult thing for him. Mark’s sensitive area was always his hair and head in general.

You wonder if it’s because tigers in general have sensitive ears; in fact all cats have that trait. It just made your mind run free whenever your fingers cross over his hair. He always lets out soft noises between the heavy parting kisses with your red feverous mouth.

Deciding that the wall won’t be enough for him or for you in that matter. Mark lifted you again this time turning only a small swift left to the bedroom the door opens enough to keep you in and throw you on top of his bed. Watching your body sink on the mattress wasn’t as satisfying as your arms pulling him on top with your lips connecting again for another passionate kiss.

Your voice sounds like music to his ears, Mark could never get tired of hearing your own heart racing and pounding against your chest either. It might be his favourite sound afterall this time.

“Fuck — Mark, hold on.” You adjust yourself on the bed when his hands slipped over your shirt unbuttoned it down along with your lowering clothing slipping it to your ankles. Mark did not know a single vocabulary word about slowing down. He was an animal. Animals don’t wait they just do whatever they want. Whenever it suits them. Your words were pointless to Mark.

He gave you a look when your hands press on his biceps. You needed a moment to calm your heart otherwise you would feel like this whole moment will not be savoured enough.

Leaning in he gave you a gentle peck instead on your lips. Mark tried to slow down to your liking. Holding himself back was hard when you look like this in your underwear and bra only. With your skin on skin contact too.

“Please.” You whisper. “You really don’t hold back.” You chuckled a little bit. Mark grinned softly at your reaction.

Humming he slowly took off his shirt. “Didn’t Jaehyun already tell you?” He sighs and your gaze looks up at Mark when he mentioned another name. “I don’t settle down for anyone.” Mark mumbles connecting back to your close body again when the shirt fell down on the bedroom floor.

He doesn’t settle for anyone so there is no reason for Mark to slow down for anyone. Mark goes fast for everyone and everything.

Your eyes are glued together as one. Your heart skips a beat when Mark was simply staring at you but it felt like he was chasing you across the jungle if anything.

Seeing your stare he had a feeling you might be thinking about your second options. Mark pressed forward to you.

“You still have the option to leave sweetheart, because I won’t give you this choice afterwards anymore.” He slants his fingers down your forearms and your eyes lift up staring into his own deadly irises.

You breathily sigh. “No I don’t want to leave.” You tell him with a determined look and you press your lips on the side of his neck kissing down to his defined collarbones.

Mark chuckled at your amusing response. You don’t want to run away yet you’re the one who told him to slow down?

“Alright. Don’t blame me for what’s about to happen next.” Mark’s voice was dark and low, everything that had been attracting you to him all along. You couldn’t wait until Mark kissed you again, you’re craving for more and more.

You don’t even know what you’re craving; is it the dangerous thrill? Or is it the fact that there was this biological element that keeps your hormones growing more complex.

Whatever it was your thoughts shatter down like a glass on the ground shredded to pieces creating a map of what you’d call your scattering thoughts. The heat forming underneath the pawing motions of the hands threading your body like a needle, grabbing your perky breasts. Hearing out your grasps and manhandling you into the mattress to a position of what his desires are. You’re nothing more than a rag doll. In this scenario you didn’t know what else to think. You were caving for more.

Escaping grasps when the rough grain fingers rub down to your revealing womanhood. His yellow-ish sharp eyes glow by the excessive amount of excitement. Your insides were much mild to his fingers. But they manage to heat your insides up so much faster. When he pumps them up and down your eyes were trying to squeeze shut.

Mark didn’t want to look away from your precious eyes when he was pumping his fingers inside your pussy walls. He wanted to watch you cry out. To him if you weren’t shouting to the top of your lungs then he did not do a good job. And Mark values his ego and pride of pleasuring women he takes to bed. You need to have a good time, your pleasure means so much more than his own.

And that’s the type of man Mark is. He focuses on you as much as he can. There was a sense of addiction towards you. Mark loved smelling your increasing scent on his bedsheets that you’re sprawled across looking like a desperate prey begging for mercy, but deep down you want so much more. With those aching teary eyes Mark knew you were close to a climax.

But did his hands stop? No. Mark didn’t care if you’re close to cumming. Mark will make you cum thrice if he wants too.

By the next few minutes you’re not sure what’s happened but your mind was fogging out between the lines. The bed sheets were leaking by your juices and Mark’s hand and your pussy were only an inch away from one another. His fingers were so deeply embedded inside of you it’s causing your voice to come out like a strain meld.

“Oh fuck… fuck… Mark I think I came already.” You said the obvious not knowing that was his intention all along. To make you release so much you’re starting to lose train of consciousness.

The tiger smirks fondly by your answer. Mark stretching your pussy out so much just so you can be able to fit him later on.

Pulling out his fingers out of your hole he licks them across his plum lips while gaze on your eyes. There was not much space between you two; your breathes are touching.

“You taste so sweet, Y/n.” Mark deems it. Pulling apart the boxers fell on the bedroom floor and he pulled your ankles down so your legs are spread round the hips.

You’re gawking at the sight of his thick glory shown towards your face. You’re not sure what else to say because your expression said it all.

Mark sultry chuckles watching you was seriously amusing. You don’t try to hide your expression with your widen little eyes. “What is it? Did i leave you speechless already?”

Though it sounds cocky. Which it probably was. Mark had a good reasoning to sound like a complete womanising douche.

He was thick. Thicker than anything you’ve seen before. You’re unsure what to say but you cannot argue with him either. He did leave you speechless. It was embarrassing for you.

Mark took your token of silence so he leans his face closer to give you a peck on your lips. He whispers down to your shoulders aligning his face with it. In a way this was to comfort you.

“Don’t worry Y/n. We aren’t finished just yet.” Breathily into your skin Mark buried the nose on the collarbone as the shape of Mark enters your pussy walls this time it was stretched with a slight burning angle that caused your whole body to tremble by itself. Holding on to the bedsheets underneath your body you feel like you’re floating by how just the tip touching at your velvety skin you’re reacting so much to it. This wasn’t usual. You’ve not experienced something like that before.

It’s nothing like the previous times you’ve slept with a guy before. It’s nothing like that.

In this case it feels like you’re fighting for your life but at the same time you’re submitting to yourself knowing Mark was the powerful one here. The one in charge of the moment. The variable that will never change is Mark. In a sick twisted way you like this. You like becoming the prey. The way you’re underneath Mark as he is thrusting you like a wild in-domestic beast, it’s what you’ve been craving all this time. The thrill of it.

For once you’ve forgotten all about biology. You’ve became it instead. Maybe you’re starting to finally understand how it feels to be stepped on by someone stronger than you. For once in your life that is.

Mark couldn’t get enough of you however. It’s the way your dark hair is floating like strands of ribbons on his bed sheets that smell of you now. He knew that once you are finished it is mostly likely to return to normal life. You’ll probably never hear from him. Or he might never hear from you on that matter — but those bed sheets will have your lingering smell and he doesn’t think he will change them for a while. You’re addictive. Strangely Mark has never been this compatible before with just anyone.

It’s crazy how a simple “come to my apartment” leads to you actually having sex later on. But you didn’t care how easy it seemed. You were enjoying it far too much to worry about the consequences. Mark was far too lost between the creeks of your neckline and the collarbones, his thinly pressed tongue sucks across your beautiful canvas. Your moans are starting to resemble poetry to his ears. As if you were all he wants to listen to on hours end.

The tiger felt every inch of your insides clenching with awe around his shape. It was the way you wrap around so easily. Your arms do the same thing. They wrap around his body and cling onto him forever. Mark wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your eyes only part ajar like a door does only to see yellowish sparkles of phenomenal beauty spreading across the bedroom. Widening at the sight you felt like you’re hallucinating. But when you’ve looked at the man above you thrusting you seen exactly a pair of two golden Iris’ staring down at you with nothing behind those eyes but lust.

It felt as if every muscle in his body extended to his original position when Mark grunts the bottom lip pierced to his fangs. “Oh yes, keeping looking at me like that. Such a pretty whore you are.”

Cheeks grows out in awe when Mark brushed over his fingers into your hair only to press you even more into the mattress digging his clock so deep in your insides you’ve lost knowledge of how far you could last. By now it’s been far too long. Your body’s overdrive is now overheating like a computer would — yet Mark shows no sign of slowing.

Even the way his voice stood still like the sea breeze. You’re at a loss of words.

Pulling at your hair slightly Mark decided to make you sit up a little so he could rearrange the speed of his thrusts to become quicker and sharper. Which only made you gasp audibly loud when you’re held in this position for so long. Your brain begins to fog once again.

Mark groans besides your shoulders, carving his teeth marks all over your body. You’re starting to look like a butchered meat eaten alive by him.

His eyes shift close. “Fuck… that’s it… now take it all Y/n.” You’re starting to see some slowing down when Mark unleashed the folds between your pussy walls. You’re starting to give up the moment Mark leaves you to the brim; looking full and plum like he wanted you in the state.

Eutrophic state of being overdriven by an animal, was all you’re able to process.

Breathing heavily into your skin you’re closing your eyes only a little, but everytime you do that you wanted to drift off to sleep. Eventually you’re wondering if you are asleep because all you see is black with a faded out voice I’m the background calling your name all over again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the morning you’re awaken by your own fine reflection of how much your body actually endured last night.

Your lips part away staring at the front. Teeth marks scattering from top to bottom. You look like a whole different person compared to when you stepped a foot into this apartment.

Your eyes dart around the bedroom putting on your clothes that were left on the floor. You had to make yourself presentable at least once in your life because right now — you feel and look completely out of place. Brushing your hands into your hair messily brushing it out any knots. Then you open the bedroom door and step out. You’re met with a smell of eggs frying in a pan.

Following the scent you’re now approaching the shoulders of a man. Short sleeve tight shirt on flexing out muscles while wearing an apron. You’re filled with some form of happiness when you see that food is being cooked.

You mumble with a groaning stomach already. “Morning. What are you cooking?”

The man turned around with a little smirk seeing you’re already dressed and awake. Mark was expecting you to be knocked out a little longer. At first he thought you died on him last night. You’ve suddenly out of nowhere blanked out. But it turns out you were due in need of much sleep.

Mark pressed the eggs out of the pan and onto the plates. Your eyes following where his muscular arms extend out the plate towards you. You took a seat down on the chair by the kitchen aisle counter. He pressed a smile.

“Eggs and some toast. It’s the best I can do.” Mark announces.

You smiled and grabbed a fork. “It’s fine I’d eat anything anyone makes me.” You wish you could’ve shut your mouth when you said that though, because you maybe held your expectations high for Mark. He cannot cook eggs for the love of God.

The smile drops on your face instantly and you clear your voice a little when you’re sending a gaze back at Mark. You take a bite of the half burnt — nearly black at the bottom scrambled eggs. How do you burn eggs? You’ve got no possible human explanation for this sorcery.

For someone who is made to be a perfect stone with no hard edges; Mark can’t cook.

You might of found Mark’s first flaw.

You trail off mumbling. “Maybe I should cook next time?” Nonetheless you eat it all without a complaint. But you had to jokingly point o it out to Mark. You’re an honest woman. You couldn’t lie to him. It might feed his delusional ego.

Mark scoffs a little and chuckles at the end. “Good idea, Y/n. I can handle the other eggs.” You nearly choked on your chewing. But before you could say anything to him he was walking out of the kitchen area with that giddy smirk on his face as if he’s proud for saying something as outrageous as that.

“I’ll be in the shower!” Mark announces without a care that you’re probably as red as an apple.

You shake your head in disbelief and trail off a little laugh. You have a feeling this might weirdly be the most calming morning you’ve had. You go back to eating your scrambled egg wondering what else you will expect…

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank you!! Reblog and Follow me for more smuts like this!!

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barefoothighlander · 1 year

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Maaaaaaybe not too feral but there’s definitely something that makes my mind go brrrr about jealous/possessive Ghost - maybe she gets too much attention one time at the bar or there’s a comment made that really gets under his skin and sets him off. Then claiming or marking his territory as soon as he gets the opportunity. 🔥

okay so I got a few reqs for jealous ghost so I'm just gonna combine them here

warnings: mdni (18+), unprotected pinv, creampie, slight dub con, ass slap, rough sex, dirty talk, slight possessive!ghost

The team had arrived back on base in the early morning, spending the day doing paperwork and running around.

Soap was a flirt, you knew that, Ghost knew that, but it always got under his skin.

"Great job out there today lass, might need you to give me a few tips" And he winks at you, Ghost sees the interaction, from afar, staying out of it as his blood boils.

He hates that you let them flirt with you but he knows it's practically harmless, they'd never actually do anything to get with you, everyone too afraid of him.

Still, he can't help the way his stomach churns at the sight of you laughing at another man's jokes, your hand touching gently against his shoulder as you giggle with him.

He especially hates that it's Soap, the man knows he has no shot with you and flirts anyway, Ghost swears he does it just to get under his skin.

He's already in a bad mood when the team goes to the pub later, and you get up from your seat to order more drinks.

Usually, he loves how friendly you are, outgoing and warm, the complete opposite of him, he likes watching you interact with people, what he doesn't like is when people take advantage of your kind nature, pushing past the line of allowance.

He's awful with his words, keeping to his seat otherwise he'll end up getting the team kicked out of another pub, he just watches as you laugh at the stranger, nodding your head along with the conversation as you wait for your drinks.

He almost jumps from his seat when the man puts his hand on your arm as you try to walk away, grabbing your attention.

He watches you say something to him, the man's eyes shooting towards Ghost, sitting unimpressed in his chair, his mask-clad face doing its job of scaring the hell out of the stranger.

He's in a sour mood the rest of the night, uninterested in conversation, simply nodding along as the team talks.

When you decide to leave he's quick, his arm snaking around your waist and tugging you into his side as you walk home.

Once you're through the door he wastes no time, caging your frame against the wall as his stare pins you down.

"What are you doing?" You're slightly nervous, you can't tell what's going through his mind.

He doesn't say a word, simply tears his mask off and kisses you, it's all teeth and tongue as he pushes the muscle past your lips, devouring you

His hand slides down your body, moving under the hem of your pants to circle your clit, you're panting into his ear, your body flushes with his as he works your bud.

His fingers move lower, pushing into you as his thumb circles your clit

Within minutes he has your knees weak, you're panting beside him, inching towards your orgasm, he feels you clench down on him and removes his fingers, bringing them to his lips.

You're in a state of confusion, words escaping your lips as you fall down from your peak, clenching around nothing.

"Please Si"

"Think you can just flirt with other men in front of me?" He grits his teeth, his eyes dark

"What?"

"Don't act stupid, Johnny, the guy at the bar, am I not good enough for you?"

"Si, no, you're everything to me" Your hands cup his jaw but his face stays stoic, his hands grip your waist with a bruising strength, lifting your frame and carrying you to the bed.

He tears off your clothes, leaving his own on as his lips travel down your chest, his teeth biting lightly at your raised nipple.

He licks the skin down to your core, biting lightly at the skin of your thighs and you elicit a yelp, his breath fanning over your dripping core.

"Si please"

"You want my tongue? Want me to eat your pussy you little slut?"

You whimper at his words, a small grin growing on his lips as he attacks your clit, licking and sucking the bud, his hands holding your thighs down to keep you from moving.

His fingers make their way back to your core, pushing in and arching as they pump into you, it's all too much, too fast, your vision blurs with a blinding light as you approach your peak.

You let out a string of curses and moans as he works you closer, only to remove his touch at the feeling of you clenching.

You sob at the loss of contact, your muscles growing weak as he pulls from you.

"Not yet, you cum on my cock or not at all"

He leans over your form, biting a mark into the skin of your neck as you gasp, his hands roaming your chest, fingers pinching over your nipples.

He leans back and lines himself up, bottoming out with his first thrust as your limbs cling to him.

He sets a brutal pace, your mind barely functioning at the feeling of his large cock dragging against your soaked walls, his tip prodding at your cervix with every thrust.

He grabs your legs, throwing them over his shoulders as he pounds into you,

"Fuck, who's pussy is this?"

You turn to him, struggling to form words, his hand moves to rest against your throat, his fingers pressing against your pulse point.

"I said who does this pussy belong to"

"You, fuck, only you" You sob around him, your chest arching into him

"That's right, my pussy, gonna fucking fill you, make sure everyone knows who you belong to"

You moan at his words, his threats going straight to your core as you clench around him,

"Don't cum, not yet"

Your brain is fuzzy, your nerves feel like they're on fire as his thumb makes contact with your clit, rubbing circles into the bud as he drives his cock into you.

"You cum when I tell you to, got it?"

You nod, unable to form words

"Use your words" He tightens his grip on your throat

"I cum when you say so" You struggle to speak

He pulls out from you, his hands grabbing your waist to flip you over, his arm snaking around your stomach to hold you up at your cheek presses into the mattress.

Without warning he thrusts back in, forcing you to take every inch as his weight pushes you further into the bed.

"My fucking pussy, no one else" He emphasizes his words with a thrust, his hand making contact with your ass, slapping hard enough that it was sure to leave a red mark, "Fucking say it you little slut"

"Your pussy, fuck, only yours" You manage through broken moans, his fingers moving back to your clit and you squeeze down on him.

"Who else can fuck you like this?"

"No one"

"That's right, you belong to me" He grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppier.

"Si please" Tears prick your eyes as you beg

"M'gonna fill you, fuck, make sure you feel me all the time"

You clench your pussy around him, the sensation becoming too much as your body seizes under his touch,

"Shit, not yet, don't you dare fucking cum"

You hold out for a few seconds loner, feeling his balls tighten as he buries himself in you.

"Cum for me, cum around my cock you little slut"

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, your entire body igniting as you writhe under him, squeezing him as he grunts, he cums with you, his spend flooding your pussy as you ride out your high, the warmth eliciting a sob from you.

"Fuck, that's it, baby, gonna take it all"

He makes sure you milk him of every drop, keeping his cock inside you till he's soft, letting you come down before pulling out.

His fingers push his spend back into you and you clench around them, your hips twitching from the stimulation as you fall against the mattress.

He presses kisses over your ass, moving his way up your spine before slotting himself beside you, his arms wrapping around your frame to tug you close.

You lay in silence for a few minutes, both of you catching your breath.

His chin sits against your shoulder, his lips pressing tender kisses to your neck,

"Mine" He repeats the word in between kisses, you sigh at his touch, turning your neck to face him, his eyes are softer now, full of love as you lean in to kiss him,

"All yours, always"

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