#the glove... i have sin on my mind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

that-sarcastic-writer · 1 year

Text

Ride it

Leon S. Kennedy x F!Reader

Summary: Leon fucks you on his motorcycle. That's it. This is just pwp

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, pwp, unprotected sex (pls wrap it), p in v, bit of fingering, bit of a handjob, exhibitionism, praise kink, bit of an innocence kink, Leon has a mouth on him, the s in leon s kennedy stands for slut, language, no use of y/n

I wrote this with vendetta Leon in mind, but it can be whichever, but older leon fits better. Reader is also at least 25.

WC: 2.1k

A/N: I'm self indulging with Leon. Also, say it blew the fuck up and I was not expecting that, so tysm!! This one is for my Leon whores. Enjoy the pure filth :)

Leon Kennedy Masterlist

Gif credit goes to this tumblr

Ao3 link (but pls still reblog and shit on here thank u)

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!!

You knew damn well you should have known better than to listen to him when he oh so innocently suggested you wore a dress for your date. Spring had come fast and the weather was so nice for you to show off that one pretty sundress you brought early in the fall but had never actually worn. And it drove him absolutely insane to see you in pretty dresses. It gave him more room to work, he thought.

But oh sweet, naive you. So trusting of everything your boyfriend said to you.

But the minute you realized you were getting on his motorcycle and not his Jeep Wrangler, you immediately knew you were in for a long ride. And the borderline sinful smirk he flashed you as he handed you your helmet did not help ease the twist in your stomach.

Still, you wouldn't say no to anything he asked, if he wanted to use his motorcycle you would go to your date in his motorcycle. If anything, it made you more eager. And rightfully so, Leon would move one of his gloved hands on one of your thighs at every red light or stop sign, squeezing and tracing his fingers over your bare skin. Goosebumps would rise on your skin. You would hold him tight, both arms tightly wrapped around his torso, your chest flat against his back the entire ride. He didn't mind, if anything he found it endearing that you held on so tight.

But if he was going to tease you, so were you.

You were coming to a red light, so you oh so innocently moved your hands from his front to sneak underneath his leather jacket and t-shirt, cold fingers brushing over his warm skin. You felt him flinch ever so slightly, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Good thing he was at a red light, because he had to close his eyes to keep his composure.

"What are you doing?"

You heard his low somber voice through the Bluetooth in your helmet. You bit your lip to stop yourself from giggling and simply shrugged, but your hands stayed inside his shirt, now moving down to trace over his v-line, stopping at the hemline of his boxer briefs. You heard him groan as one of his hands came to grip your thigh.

"'M not doing anything." You eventually said. You gasped softly when you felt his fingers dig into the skin of your thigh.

"You're going to stop that, right now." He breathed through his nose, using that authoritative and commanding voice that only made you wetter. You swallowed, stilling your hands, but never actually removed them from under his shirt. Another heavy breath. "Take your hands out of my fucking shirt before I park on the side of the street and rearrange your insides right then and there."

The sound that came out of your mouth right then and there was pathetic. It made Leon chuckle. Oh his sweet girl, always such a whore for him. But you did listen, and your hands immediately returned to the front of him.

"That's a good girl." He hummed in approval, the light finally turning green, and he gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze before his hand returned to the handle. "We're almost there, be good and you'll get what you want."

You had a satisfied smile on your face the rest of the ride. But you probably should've known that your little stunt was going to cost you because the next time you came to a stop you were at a cliff that overlooked the city at the end of an otherwise empty road with a dead-end.

You frowned softly, taking your helmet off your head and looked around with a confused look. Leon had already gotten off the bike, helmet off, and had kicked the stand but never actually turned off the bike.

"Leon..?"

"Y'know, I actually had a date planned. I was gonna take you to dinner, then here because I know just how much you love to see the city at night, however," he bit his lip softly, grabbing your hips and forcing you to face him, your legs dangling off his bike while you were still sitting on it. You looked up at him with big eyes, "Because you're such a greedy whore and you can't seem to wait, I'm gonna fuck you stupid on my bike, and you're gonna take it, yeah?"

God, the things this man would make you do, the things he would make you want. He was a bad influence, but fuck, you loved it.

"Yes. Yes please." There was no hesitation, just need and desperation. He gave your hips a tight squeeze, his pale blue eyes filled with the same need.

"Mhmm of course that's what my pretty girl wanted, you just wanted my cock huh?" He had this filthy grin on his face as he moved his hands down to your thighs, "Spread your legs for me baby."

You bit your lip softly and did as he asked, he wasted no time in ripping your panties down your legs until they hung from one ankle. He smiled as he gripped your jaw with one hand as he peeled the fingerless glove off the other with his teeth before slipping it under your dress. You gasped, blood rushing to your face when you felt his fingers brush over your clit. Leon opened his eyes in surprise as he dragged his fingers down to your entrance and wetness instantly coated his fingers.

"Oh sweet girl, you're already so wet for me." He chuckled softly, leaning down to crash his lips against yours, capturing the moan he pulled from you as he slowly pushed in two of his fingers. "Mhmm."

"Please Leon. I want you so bad. Please." You mumbled against his lips, fingers gripping his hair as you bucked your hips against his hand.

"I know, baby. I'll give you what you want, don't worry." He hummed as he continued to work you with his fingers as he undid his belt with the other. With shaky hands, you helped him unzip his jeans and pull his cock from the confines of his boxer briefs.

With a soft hiss, he removed his fingers from you and pumped himself a couple times, coating himself in your slick before he hiked up one of your legs over his torso, spreading you out for him as he slowly slid into you. You eyes instantly fluttered shut and your head felt back as he slowly buried himself to the hilt, making sure you felt every inch.

"Mhmm fuck…" A soft whimper left your mouth as you threw your arms over his shoulders in an attempt to keep yourself upright, and then as you opened your eyes, you remembered you were in fact, out in the open, "Fuck. Shit, Leon. Do you think someone will drive by?"

"So what? I'm deep enough for you to feel me in your stomach and you're worried someone will see?" He laughed mockingly, not in the slightest bit worried about it. If anything the idea of getting caught made him want to fuck you even more. He brought his hand to the back of your neck, pulling your face close to his as he snapped his hips forward, "Let 'em see."

God, you'd be lying if you said the idea didn't make you wetter. Leon definitely felt the way you squeezed around him when he said it. He moaned in response, fingers tangling around the hair at the back of your head as he gave you another punishing thrust.

"Mhmm yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you? You'd like it if someone saw you all sprawled out on my bike, dripping wet, and getting fucked stupid by your older boyfriend? Yeah you would." He was pounding into you harder and harder, each word spoken in between moans and groans.

"What would they think huh? Such a sweet innocent girl letting her older boyfriend use her like this? Goddamn baby, I've ruined you." He pulled your face close to his, foreheads touching as he watched the utterly fucked out look on your face and the sound of your dripping cunt slapping against him.

"Yes! Fuck yes. Only you can do this to me." You cried out, any and all worries about getting caught long gone, and all you could think about was the aching feeling in your belly, and the flash of heat that was rapidly approaching.

"Mhm, that's right, pretty girl. Such a greedy whore, just for me." He moaned the praise, free hand scrunching up your dress to your waist as he held you on the seat that still vibrated through you as he kept pounding into you. And you happily took everything he had to give you like that was all you were meant to do in this world. Be at the mercy of your gorgeous boyfriend.

"Please Leon," You were holding on to him for dear life, nails digging into his leather jacket and hair, voice weak and broken in between moans. God you were so fucking close. "I want to come. Please."

Leon moaned at your weak pleads. You were so sweet, so desperate and at his mercy. He could never deny his sweet girl anything.

"Mmm yes. Let go for me baby, I got you." His thumb found your swollen clit, he rubbed harsh circles that matched his harsh thrusts, while his other hand kept a tight grip on your hair and he pulled your head back. "Look at me baby, keep those pretty eyes on me when you come."

You fought the urge to roll your eyes back as a flash of blinding heat ran through your body, but you managed to keep your eyes on his pale sapphire ones as you came around him, a pathetic moan falling from your lips as your whole body trembled. He held you on the seat, his body pretty much preventing you from falling.

"Mmmm fuck, good girl. Agh—" A moan caught his throat as your walls squeezed his cock and a gush of wetness seeped around him. He pulled you against him, mouth crashing against yours as he snapped his hips with urgency, his own release quickly approaching. "Fuck, fuck baby. You're squeezing the shit outta my cock. Shit, I'm so close. Fuck."

You held on to him for dear life, just letting him use you to chase his own release, your weak moans in his ear, your high pitched gasps and your weak mumbles of his name, fuck, it didn't take him long before he was pulling out of you. But he quickly grabbed your hand and wrapped it around his slick cock.

"Mmmm fuck baby— hah— yes, fuck—" He guided your hand on his cock, using your hand to pump himself, his face on your neck as he moaned, "Yeah just like that baby. C'mon pretty girl, make me come. C'mon, fuck, yes. Yes, good girl. Shit ugh—"

Strings of his come shot into your hand and the seat between your parted thighs as he came with a guttural moan that made you wet all over again. You hummed softly, leaving kisses over his face as he panted. His eyes were closed and he had the side of his face pressed against your neck. He left wet kisses along the exposed skin of your neck as he breathed heavily.

"You did such a good job, baby. You're always so good for me." He hummed against your neck, moving up to capture your lips into a softer, slower kiss before he was pulling back.

You sat on the seat, making your best effort to stay upright, legs wide open as you waited for Leon to clean himself up. You tilted your head at him with confusion, just now realizing what he had done.

"Why did you—" You frowned softly as he took your hand, cleaning his mess with an old bandana before wiping the seat in between your parted legs.

"I'm still taking you to dinner. Unless you wanted to sit through dinner with my cum inside you all night." He chuckled softly, face flushed red, hair disheveled and jeans still undone as he tossed the bandana into one of the compartments. When he looked at you, you had this sweet look on your face, a tiny smile on your lips and your head tilted. God you were so adorable, it made him want to ruin you all over again. "Although you probably deserve it. But I'm not that mean."

A small perverted smirk made its way to your lips, and it made Leon groan as he grabbed your chin and placed a rough kiss to your lips.

"Don't give me that look or you won't make it to dinner."

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy

3K notes · View notes

gemissleeping · 2 months

Text

Moonlight & Masks

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Newly turned Death Eater Theodore Nott is tasked with hunting down Harry Potter and the Order Operative protecting him. Only to discover the person he hunts happens to be the one he loves.

Length: 1.8k

Notes: Back from the dead (I am so sorry things are hectic and I don’t want to release a chapter I’m not feeling) with this little one from @thatdammchickennugget’s Hogmarch Challenge! Death Eater Theo. Use of the killing curse. Angst as always because we know I live for the drama. For those of you wanting more Veleveteen, in my head this occurs in the same story universe (which I know isn’t the same as an update pls forgive my sins). Not proofread, we have deadlines to meet.

The sting of lightning hung in the air as she weaved through the trees. The thundering footfall still pressing behind her. Lungs burning with need, she pressed on. Dizzied from the turbulent descent she and Mad Eye had suffered.

Alastor. He was dead.

She hadn’t even been able to take his body from the dirt where it had fallen. And the Death Eaters certainly wouldn’t afford him the dignity of a proper burial.

Tears clawed at her cheeks as she bounded over the tree roots twisting across the forest floor. Thinking only of Mad Eye, the way his voice had simply ceased when the curse had hit him. No cry of pain, no strangled wail. Only silence.

Her grip on her wand tightened as her tears ran hot. The taunting laugh of one of her pursuers echoing through the trees as they crashed after her. The darkness spinning endlessly around her. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. Gone were the rules they had been taught to play by. Humanity sacrificed for power. Thoughtless with rage, she cast back her wand into the leering shadows. Letting the words fall from her lips before her heart could catch them.

Avada Kedavra

The green light felt as though it tore right through her as it ricocheted from her wand. Scattering through the trees and hitting its mark with a crack. Ripping at her chest with blistering heat, forcing her ribs apart until the spell dissipated. The laughter ceased. That same absence that had followed earlier resting through the trees. She was dragged to a still.

The force of the spell brought her to her knees. Bark breaking the skin of her palms, blood blooming as she fell forward in agony. She felt it being torn from her throat just now; some vital piece of herself. What she had given to cast the curse. The crack rung through her ears. Trailing her even as its ringing grew soft, faded into the background of the forest’s creaks and stutters. She could feel the heaving of her chest, dizzied by the absence that had been dug into her.

Before she could break upon the forest floor completely, the snap of a twig behind her brought reality rearing back. Whipping to face the darkness, she searched the teasing shadows that surrounded her. Nothing answered but the wind. She pushed herself up on bloody palms, staggering towards the nearest tree. Catching the glint of a metal smile hit by moonlight as she turned. But it was too late.

The Death Eater was on her in a second, wand jammed to her throat. One hand wrenching her head back by the hair. A mutilated snarl coming from the unmoving mask.

“Potter.”

She still had Harry’s face.

The figure towered before her, gloved hand pulling harshly at her hair as she strained against their grip. More tears pricking at her eyes as she faced the smooth and indifferent wall between them. Both of them were wearing masks really. But the thought brought little comfort to the nausea biting at her.

She was going to die someone else.

Wand to her throat, she closed her eyes. Preparing for the flurry of hot green light. Perhaps it was what she deserved, it could be a mercy. This way she would never have to truly face what she had done. There was no doubt in her mind that the person before her would finish the job. And yet she waited, but nothing came.

Opening her eyes once again she found him watching her carefully. Blue eyes clouded with something foreign, his silver mask lodged in the dirt at their feet. Looking at her with nothing but quiet restraint. She felt her throat close at the sight of him, all defences leaving her as she stared up at the boy before her.

“I asked something of you, when I saw you last,” Theo spoke lowly, wand still jammed to her throat as though he didn’t fully trust the person he saw before him. “Do you have an answer for me?” His voice fell flat against the forest air, low and heavy as his empty eyes.

His words sent another wave of dizziness crashing through her. The events of the past ten minutes threatening to bring everything up from her stomach. She wanted to fall into his chest and let his robes soak up her tears. To slice her palm clean across his cheek. Fall to the forest floor and not get up. Beg him to finish the job.

But instead, she did as she was told; she stayed quiet. Like the good little soldier they had taught her to be. Counting the freckles and moles that dotted the skin of his cheeks like they were her favourite constellations.

“Answer the question,” Theo snarled again, shoving her back forcefully. Back hitting the jagged edges of bark with an audible crack as a groan left her. Still she didn’t speak, blinking up at him as her head spun from when it had made contact with the tree.

“I’ll do it Potter,” he hissed lowly. His wand cutting further into her throat as she struggled to breathe under its pressure. He barely seemed to notice, staring down at her with empty eyes. “Don’t think I won’t just because you have something I want.”

She only watched him carefully, trying not to let herself give it away as she watched him. Staving off the clouds of memory that threatened to consume her at the sight of him.

“No?” He chimed, a sharp edge to his warm voice, “Very well.”

He drew a breathe, anger taking him in its burning grip. But just as the curse he had planned to cast was forming a whisper of air on his lips; she felt it. The rippling beneath her skin. Pulling and tugging and melting at the fibres of her. She bit her tongue as the pain of it ripped through her. Reforming beneath the skin as everything cracked and popped in and out of place. Until only she remained, swimming in Harry’s ridiculous hoodie.

Theo still had her pressed against the tree, all colour drained from his face as he watched the skin seem to melt and reform on her bones. His hands began to shake. She watched him with distant eyes, trying to hold onto what little restraint remained.

“What’s wrong?” She asked hoarsely, her throat aching from the potion’s due course. Theo’s wand still hesitantly pressed to the delicate skin of her throat. “Can’t do it anymore?”

It happened like the break of a dam. Her name fell from his lips in a rush of credence. Lips falling apart at the sight of her before him, what he’d almost done without realising. His wand dropped in a stagger, as though she had struck him. The darkness of the forest enclosing around them.

“You left me there,” he breathed suddenly, as though it hadn’t meant to come out. She blinked up at him as confusion swept her. But the lost look he carried only washed away as his eyes hardened.

“What?” she breathed.

“You left me there alone,” he spoke again, ignited with a sudden rage. His words were like kindling to her own. Her brow cracking with anger.

“No, Theo,” her voice shook, “you left me.” Theo looked to the ground, shaking his head gently in denial. He took a hesitant step forwards, as though to reach for her. But she stepped back, her spine hitting the tree. “Do you know how much I had to go through alone before I got out of there? Because you were too busy running off with Draco, or-”

He closed the distance between them with a blistering intensity.

“Do you know what it’s been like since? Without you?” It came out in a boiling whisper. “He wants your head almost as much as he wants Potter’s,” Theo’s eyes softened at the words, swept up in whatever memory they procured. “And I just have to sit there and take it, listening to the vile things they plan to do to you. Knowing there’s not a single fucking thing I can do about any of it, except for-”

He didn’t have to say it, the break of his voice said enough. The way his eyes fled from her own. He had meant to kill her.

“Why don’t you do it then?” She whispered, eyes brimming with more tears. Looking to the boy she had loved since she was too young to understand the word. “It would save me the-”

“Stop it.”

“I deserve it, don’t I? For leaving you. You said so yourself, in your letter. I read it you know.”

“No, I didn’t mean-”

“I know you’ve cast it before-”

“I said stop,” he bellowed, pressing himself against her in a flash of pent up fury. His body flush against hers as his chest heaved with the weight of his rage. “Even if I wanted to,” he whispered, his lips brushing lightly against her ear, “I can’t.” His hands tightened into fists, “He wants to do it himself.”

He peeled himself away from her, as though every inch of his skin that couldn’t feel hers was the worst form of torture. Drinking in every part of her except for her eyes, which he couldn’t bring himself to meet. She searched his, begging him to pull himself to meet hers.

“Is it that?” She breathed, fearful eyes rounded as she looked up to him. Searching for that thread that had always hung between them. His eyes grew tense as he saw what thoughts lay in hers, “Or is it because-”

“Stop.”

-you love me.

“Don’t,” he snapped, but even the sharp edge of his voice couldn’t distract from the despair swimming in his eyes. “Please,” he breathed, his head dipping towards her neck in defeat, but not daring to brush the skin, “don’t.”

He wanted to hold her, let his fingers trail across her cheeks, brush his thumb over her eyelashes. Just to make sure it was really her. Not some cruel trick made out to test his loyalty. But instead he let his breath fan across the bare skin of her neck. Knowing it was the only way he could allow himself to touch her.

“It was you I asked after,” his confession fell dead against the skin of her neck. He heard the breath she drew as though it was taken from him. Felt himself unravelling being so close to her now, after months of waiting and silence and searching.

Fuck it.

He’d be flayed for it, but everything could be damned. None of it mattered if he could feel her lips on his again. His hands flew to the delicate skin of her cheeks. Palms soaking in the remainder of her tears as his lips met hers. They parted effortlessly for him, welcoming him in as though she had been waiting just as he had. The softness of her lips balancing against his hunger. Her head tilted towards him, completely at his mercy beneath his calloused palms. Just as she should have been all this time.

#gemwrites #hogmarch challenge #hogmarch #thatdamnchickennugget #theodore nott x reader #slytherin boys #theodore nott angst #theodore nott fic #theodore nott #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader

899 notes · View notes

little-diable · 11 months

Text

Pretty Girl - Draco Malfoy (smut)

This is pure filth, I had to get this drabble out of my system. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves! xxx

Summary: Pwp, Draco fucks the reader till she chokes on his name

Warnings: 18+, unprotected piv, fingering, spitting, choking, dom!Draco, degrading, pwp

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (1k words)

“Look at me, eyes on me.” Draco was towering over her, eyes having that special glint to them she’d only get to see whenever he was about to ruin her. Her body was trembling, shuddering against his mattress. (Y/n)’s naked body was graced by marks, old ones his teeth had left in the past days, new ones he had just forced into her skin like a poison coming to feast from her soul.

“Draco, please, oh please.” His rings felt cold against her skin, fingertips rubbing her sensitive bundle of nerves like he had done numerous times before, and yet (y/n) still wasn’t used to the way her body reacted to his touch, taken up by the waves of pleasure only he could push through her. It was sinful, disgustingly sinful, but with every passing night the two were pushed closer together, forming a bond that would survive any war.

“It’d be so much easier if you would always beg like this, my pretty girl.” His teasing words left her gasping, eyes squeezed shut as he curled his fingers against her soft spot, fucking her till she choked on his name. Her arousal covered his hands, sticking to him like a glove, Draco found pride in the way her body was reacting to his touch, even just the lightest brush of his lips could coax sinful moans from her, sounds he’d take to grave eventually.

“Can’t wait to bury my cock inside of you, have you choke for me.” She arched her back off his mattress, about to cum, about to let go with his name roaring through her and her fingernails clawed into his forearms. But Draco let go of her, with a sick smirk tugging on his lips, watching her eyes snap open, lips parted in confusion. “Are you too fucked out to remember the rules?”

His chuckles left her body flaring up in embarrassment, slowly shaking her head as she combed her memories for his words, the rules he had once forced into her mind. The hazy cloud of lust she was stuck in was too thick, unable to fight through it as she watched Draco pull his cock free, hard and twitching, begging to feel her.

“Tell me the rules.” He brushed the tip of his cock through her folds, coating himself with her arousal, teasing her as she started speaking, though miserably failing at following his command. Incoherent words rolled off (y/n)’s tongue, eyes fluttering close to try and distract herself from his piercing eyes. Draco Malfoy was a dangerous man, a man so dangerous and dark even those close to him would shrink away in fright. “Speak when you’re asked to, doll.”

“Fuck,” (y/n)’s eyes met his, forced to reply as his hand found her throat, squeezing just enough to alert her. “Will only cum on your cock, will ask nicely for it.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Draco pushed into her with a groan rumbling through him, forcing her walls apart as he sunk deeper into her. With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) clung to him, nails scratching at his skin. His thrusts were rough, not set on cherishing their time together, though focused on ruining his girlfriend. Tears welled up in her eyes, she was overstimulated, had been forced closer to the edge too much in the past hour, ripped away from the waves of pleasure before they could drown her.

“Oh fuck, Draco.” A satisfied moan left him at the use of his name, eyes staring down on her lust-drunken features with a smile tugging on his lips. He let go of her throat, only to tap his fingers against her lips, forcing her mouth to open. With her tongue exposed to his glistening eyes, Draco spat onto the strong muscle, forcing her to swallow – once again was he claiming her, in the most primal way.

“Can feel you clenching me, who’d think that a girl like you is such a cock-hungry slut, fucked out after a bit of teasing.” Her clit pulsed, begging to be touched, needing to feel his soft fingertips against her. Draco seemed to follow her body’s commands without any questions asked, hand finding her heat, rubbing the bundle of nerves with care, not wanting to let go just yet.

His thrusts were calculated, perfected, he knew her body well, perhaps even better than she knew herself. (Y/n) choked on her gasps, eyes rolling back into her head, praying to whoever was listening that Draco would allow her to let go. His eyes didn’t stray from her features, watching her slowly but surely unfold, needing to give in.

“Cum for me, doll, let go.” His words gave her the final push, trembling beneath the smirking man, calling his name like a spell she knew by heart, perfectly guiding her body through the waves of pleasure. Draco fucked her through her high, holding her close till it was his time to give in, pulling out of (y/n) to release himself on her lower stomach.

For a few seconds the two were engulfed by silence, only their heavy breaths filled the room, echoing off the walls like a whisper spoken in the quiet night. Wordlessly Draco let go of her, untangling their limbs to reach for a towel, carefully cleaning her up. His lips pressed soft kisses to her chest, moving up her throat till he found her lips, sharing a sweet kiss with his still panting girlfriend.

“I love you, always will.” His words were met with a smile, allowing (y/n) to repeat the words before he pulled her against his chest.

#Draco Malfoy smut #Draco Malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy imagine

3K notes · View notes

goldenlikedayl1ght · 2 months

Text

enter sandman - m. murdock

a/n: see me personally? never seeing the pearly gates. never ever. not after this one . enjoy. feedback always appreciated ! <3 warnings: guys... where do i fucking start. SMUT. SMUT!!!! GRAPHIC PORN!!!! no plot!!!! degradation!!! dumbification!!!! praise!!!! oral!!! (m recieving) cursing!!!! nicknames!!!! reader is female and has female parts and she/her pronouns!!!!! matt is cocky, mean!dom!matt, the ending is kind of cute, lots of inappropriate use of matts senses, uhhh guys let me know if i missed any because... wow. word count: 4.2k summary: you have a hard time sleeping. the devil has a few games in mind to tire you out. pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: enter sandman - metallica "exit light/enter night/take my hand/we're off to never-never land"

You have a horrible habit. Okay, you wouldn’t really consider it to be a habit per say, but you’re not proud of it. You will for it to end.

You can never seem to fall asleep. Staying asleep is easy, but getting there is a problem. Your mind is always racing, which causes you to spiral into a whirlpool of anxieties. You’re too busy thinking about your job, or what you’ll eat tomorrow, or when you’ll be doing your next load of laundry.

But most of all, what keeps you up at night is worrying about the devil. And not in the sense that you’re a holy catholic who wants to repent for her sins, either. Your worry for the devil comes because you’re hopelessly in love with him.

And you worry that one day he will come home damaged beyond repair. Maybe one day he will not come home at all, and you’ll have to hear about it on the news the next morning. It’s a hellish existence, loving the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, but you make do.

Like tonight—You had baked brownies earlier in the night, and then read your book for the better part of the night. You won’t allow yourself to fall asleep because the possibility of seeing him overwhelms you. But as the hours pass, you begin to lose hope.

And just as you you’re beginning to accept that he won’t be coming to see you and you’re really letting yourself drift, you feel a warm hand on your neck. He’s taken his gloves off tonight. You consider yourself blessed.

“Hi,” You mumble softly, your brain going all fuzzy with even just that bit of contact. You’ve missed him. “Was beginning to think you’d never show.”

But your devil is in no mood for simple pleasantries tonight.

“What have I told you about waiting up for me?”

“Not to?”

“I said,” His hand moves from its gentle place against your neck to grip your chin, “As long as you leave the window open I’ll know to just come in and take what I need.”

Your face flushes, and he grins, because he can tell that he’s making you flustered.

“Stop laughing at me.”

“No one’s laughing at you, sweetheart.” He hums.

“You are.” He shrugs gently. He’s wearing his black suit tonight, and it’s making you feel… a lot of things.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Damn him.

“Nothing!”

He leans forward and kisses you softly, and you lean up to try and kiss him further, but he pulls away, his grip returning to your chin, to keep you just centimeters away. The devil is an expert at reading you, despite his lack of sight. He has developed the habit of studying you, and knows that as of late, you’re not allowing yourself the pleasure of sleeping. He knows it’s because you’re so anxious and worried about every little thing, so tonight.. He intends to fix it. Or at least, maybe come up with a temporary solution.

“Liar.” He whispers and moves away further. “I’m not going to touch you until you tell me.”

Your devil is many things, but he does not bluff. He has this will of steel.

“I prefer it when you wear the black suit,” You tell him, “It’s not very protective, I know. But you look good in it.”

He makes a noise of realization, before moving his hand to slip under the hem of your shirt, resting his hand on your stomach. You shiver a bit, his hand warm against your skin. That’s what you get for wearing a tee shirt and shorts to bed every night, he’d tell you.

“That’s my smart girl.” Your heart flutters. “Mm, you really like that huh?”

“You’re awful.” You always pretend to hate how he reads you, but secretly, although you suspect he knows it, you love that someone knows you so well. He grins and his hands move again, this time picking you up into his arms and carrying you to the bedroom. “Hey! Not cool, we talked about picking up when we have no warning—” You cut yourself off with a grunt when he tosses you onto the bed.

“Shut up.”

He hears no objections.

Just as quickly as you’re thrown on the bed, he is above you, mask still on, kissing your neck.

“Wanna play a game, sweetheart?” He asks, hands on your hips, his fingers creeping up the hem of your shirt. You shiver again, and he just grins “You can answer.”

“Sure. I like games.” Your voice is meek, too busy enjoying all the contact with him. He hums softly.

“I know you do, and you’re just so good at them.” You grin against his skin as he kisses your cheek. “See that? That’s what I want to know.” You’re a bit lost.

“Know what?”

“I want to know what turns you on more— praising you or degrading you.”

What a fun game to play with a human lie detector.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, let’s play.” You confirm. He kisses you quickly.

“Good girl.” You hum softly, but it isn’t quite what he’s looking for. It’s good, don’t get him wrong, but he’s after more. “Tell me about your day, baby.” He continues to plant kisses along your skin. You know this isn’t a request but rather a requirement of the game.

“Well, I had work today, then I had to stop at the grocery store. I made dinner and—” You’re cut off by a kiss to a sensitive spot on your neck, because you can’t help but let out a gasp of pleasure.

“What? A few kisses and you’re already turning dumb for me?” You shudder softly, your heartbeat steadily increasing. The deep cadence of his voice paired with his words make you want to just melt. “Oh, there she is..”

He lets go of your arms for just a moment to slip your shirt off. Then, your hands are back above your head, held down by his grip. He moves on from your neck and begins to kiss down.

“I like this game.” You manage out, and he chuckles.

“I know you do. You know how?”

You think about it for a moment before you answer. You want to be right.

“You can hear my heartbeat?”

“And I can smell you. You like this a lot. More than you like me?” He continues to kiss down your torso.

You don’t answer for a second. He bites your skin gently, prompting you to answer.

“No.” You answer, “No, I don’t like anything.. anyone more than you.”

He kisses the spot where he bit softly.

“Even smart girls need to be reminded sometimes.” Is all he says before he continues to kiss you. You try to hide it, try to hide your reaction to the words, but he grins against your skin.

“Matt..” you groan out softly because his kisses have stopped.

“What?”

“Why’d you stop?” You whined.

“You’re my smart girl, why don’t you tell me?” You pause, biting your lip. “Is it because you can’t? Do you like being dumb for me, smart girl?” You want to defend yourself, but he bites your skin again.

“Yes!” you respond, and he does the same thing he did before—He kisses where he bit.

“Good girl.” He responds. “I like making you dumb just from a few kisses anyways.” He tells you, finally reaching your stomach with his kisses. “I love my dumb little smart girl.” The cadence he has to his voice makes you whine again. He knows every part of you, even the parts you never wanted to tell him about. He’s just too observant. “I love that despite how well behaved and good you are, you’re dumb enough to be talked down to like this, by some strange man who just crawled through your window.”

You answer before you can think about it. You’re smart enough to know that he’s at least half right.

“You’re not just anyone, you’re my Matt.”

“Your Matt?” He hums. “Your Matt, My ditzy smart girl.” He grins, before placing one last kiss right above the waistline of your shorts.

He moves so he can kiss your lips again, kissing you quick before pulling off his mask so you can see his face. He has a cut on his forehead and a bruise forming on his cheek. It’s clear he had a good night though, or else this wouldn’t be happening.

“Your face..” You frown, concern in your voice.

“Observant and smart?” He teases, kissing your forehead. “What happened to wanting to be dumb for me?”

You’re almost embarrassed of it now.

“You’re being mean.” You say quietly.

“Mean? Me? To my best girl?” He kisses you quickly again. “Never.” He hums. One of his hands goes down to your thigh, his fingertips inching up.

“Never.” You echo.

“What do you say, smart girl?” He asks, “Wanna play a few more games? See just how desperate I can make you?”

You huff at his words, your brain short circuiting to the point where you speak before you can really think.

“I just want you to fuck me!”

He stops just as he’s about to pull off your shorts and slithers back up so the pair of you are face to face.

“First of all,” he places a kiss to your lips gently, “You are not in a position to be making demands, pretty girl. Second,” He kisses you again, “Such a foul mouth for such a dumb baby,” You let off a soft whine, and he has the audacity to mock your whine, “I know, it’s not much of a lecture when you like when I talk to you like this,” He hums. “And third, I know you’re smarter than to be a brat.” He says gently, kissing you again.

“I’m not a brat.” You whine, and again, he mocks you before devolving into a deep chuckle, leaning in to kiss you.

“I love you.” He says, with a grin on his face.

He’s gentle with you for a few moments, softer. You decide that now is your chance, and if you don’t act now, you’ll spend the rest of your night under his thumb. So, you flip over and have him under you, as you sit on his lower stomach. His hands come up to the back of your thighs.

“I’ve got you now, Devil.” You grin, leaning in to kiss him. But before you can, he’s flipping you back over, keeping you pinned by your legs.

“Brat.” he accuses, leaning in to kiss you again. You huff. “Easy, pretty girl, your attitude is getting the best of you.”

You frown and turn your head when he goes to kiss you.

“Tell me I’m not a brat and I’ll kiss you.” You demand, and he grins, but this time it isn’t soft. It’s almost wicked. He grabs your chin roughly and tilts your head towards him, before kissing you roughly.

“What did I tell you?” he asks. “Come on, smart girl, I know you remember.”

“That I was in no position to make demands?”

“That’s right.” He coos, “Now, baby, do you want to hear what I had planned for you tonight?”

You must admit, you’re very curious.

“Sure, Matty.” His grin widens.

“Well, I was planning on playing this little game with you, then eating you out until your thighs are shaking,” You let out a whine, but he just shushes you softly, “Sh, sh, sh… You wanted to hear, so listen.” He hums. “Then, I was going to fuck you until you were full of my cum.” He tells you.

Then, he lets out a disappointed sigh.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“That was what I was planning on, but because you decided to be a brat, I have a new plan.”

“I liked that plan so much though..”

“I know, Sweetheart, me too.. But you’re the one who ruined it.” He reminded, leaning in, and biting your jaw between his fingers. His hand positioning is not exactly choking, but the grip is tight enough to leave marks. He feels you grind your hips up a bit, and chuckles again. “Smart girl, already figuring out what’s next.”

You tilt your head in confusion, but before you know it, he’s repositioning you so you’re in his lap at the edge of the bed. He pats your thigh gently.

“Get up for me, Honey. Then you got to take your shorts off for me.” You do as you’re told, no longer interested in fucking up his plans. Then, he pulls you back onto his lap, and he hums gently. You decide to take a risk and bring your hands up to his jaw, and then up towards his mask.

“Please?” You ask gently. “Wanna see you..” He nods softly, letting you pull off his mask, as his head tilts to the side to kiss your palm.

“You remember who’s in charge, right, sweetheart?”

“You, devil.”

“That’s right, angel.” He praises, “And that’s why you’re going to ride my thigh.” You let out a soft whine, and he shakes his head, “No, no whining from you, sweet girl. You wanted to be a brat, so you gotta reap what you sew.”

He holds your hips as you begin to grind against his thigh, and Matt focuses on the way your breathing hitches as you rub against his thigh. Your hands grip his shoulders as he begins to kiss your neck again.

Your skin burns with need, and your hips roll faster as your breath speeds up, and slowly, minute by minute, you’re edging closer to your release. But he knows you’re close to coming undone not only because of how your skin is hot, and your breath is airy, but because you’re making such a mess.

You’re definitely staining his pant leg with your wetness, because after his insatiable teasing, you’re just desperate for him, and oh so sensitive. The speed of your grinding increases, and then, because he wants to see you break, he starts to bounce his leg up so that in addition to your grinding, it’s overwhelming you.

“Matt,” you say, breathlessly. “Matt, please..”

“Please what, smart girl? What do you want?” He’s really going to make you ask for it. This is all part of his game.

“Please..” You start, resting your head on his shoulder. “Please, can I come?”

“What was that, baby? I didn’t hear you.”

Oh, now he’s being a fucking dick. You know he can hear you, with his damned super senses. Nonetheless, you pick your head up and manage to get it out.

“Please let me come,” You beg, and he laughs.

“You know what’s funny, baby?” You let out a whine. “You’re so smart, always holding the world on your shoulders, and yet.. A little bit of teasing and riding my thigh, and you can barely get a sentence out.. You’re being so good for me, baby. So good at following orders,” He bites your neck. “So, go ahead and come for me, sweet girl.”

As soon as those words leave his lips, you’re letting go, the tight knot in your stomach finally snapping. You moan into his ear, his hands on your side to keep you stable as you come undone. He keeps bouncing his leg to have you ride out your high as your legs begin to shake. You’re making all of these pretty noises for him, and the smell of your juices are overwhelming for him.

“Such a good girl for me,” he hums, kissing you softly. He’s back to being rather gentle with you. But his cock is incredibly hard against his pants, and he needs to feel you clench around him. “Can my pretty baby ride my cock?” You’re shaking but you nod gently.

He knows you’re verging on the edge of being unable to do much else, but he wants to see how far he can push you. So, he pats your leg again and you stand up. His hands come up to undo your bra and pull off your panties.

He holds them in his hands for a moment, breathing in deeply as your scent continues to overwhelm him. He wastes no more time, pulling off his shirt and then starting to unbuckle his black pants. On instinct, you’re on your knees, with this.. primal desire to suck him off.

He takes a deep breath, his hand going to your hair and pushing your hair from your face. You lean into his touch, smiling softly up at him. He knows how much you like just thoughtless sex—You value long, intimate nights too, but after a long week, you need to shut off your brain and he needs to take control.

“Wanna suck my cock first, baby? You’re so good for me..” He says softly, slipping down his boxers.

“Just wanna be good for you,” You hum, eying his glistening hardness. You can’t deny that he looks truly crafted by the hands of God—Most of his body is glistening with sweat, cock glistening with precum. He is heavenly and the only thing you’ll ever want to worship.

“You’re so good for me. My dumb little smart girl.” The name form earlier makes you weak, as you lean in and begin to lick his tip. His hand grips your hair as he inhales sharply. “Careful, sweetheart.” He tells you, beginning to guide you in sucking him dry.

His hand guides you as your head bobs against his cock, the taste of him turning your brain further into mush. He makes sure to guide you at a steady pace, moaning out praise, and occasionally degradation.

“So fucking good for me,” He gasps out, “My good little girl.. Sucking my cock so good—Ah, fuck..” He gasps as you quicken your pace. “Sucking me like the little slut you are..” You moan against cock at that, and he gasps, before it devolves into a low chuckle. “And you like it, too.. Being called my little slut.. Good little slut, just for me.. Got you trained so well..” He holds on for a few more moments before he comes into your mouth, panting softly.

His cum dribbles down your chin as you swallow most of it, so his hand comes up to your chin to gently wipe the dribble off before he slips his thumb into your mouth.

“Every last drop for me, angel.” He requests. You happily suck on his thumb for a few moments while he recovers. Then, he leans down and picks you up, resting you on the bed again. “Now you’re gonna ride me, right, pretty?”

“Mhm..” You smile, and as soon as he lays back on the bed, you’re on top of him. His cock slides against your folds and you whine a bit, just desperate for the feeling of him filling you up. “You know how badly I want your cock..” He grins at this.

“You have it, angel. Just gotta ride me, okay?” You hum in response. You slowly lower yourself down onto his cock, taking a few minutes to adjust to the size of him. But your slow pace is not quick enough for Matt, whose hands find your hips (for the millionth time tonight) and quickly slides his entire length into you.

You moan loudly, a feeling of pain and pleasure blurring together as he hits just the right spot to make you see stars.

“Matt, fuck,” You whine, wanting to take a second to catch your breath.

“Color?” It’s a safe word system—He knows he might have taken it a tad too far, pushing into you like that.

“Green,” You promise.

“Okay, good.” He leans up and kisses your forehead gently, a sign of the gentleness that resides in his demeanor despite just how into his dominate behavior you are. He begins to roll his hips, and revels in the sound of the pretty screams coming out of your mouth as he begins to pound into you. “I’ve got you fucked dumb, baby? Can’t even ride my cock properly?” He asks, pulling you in to kiss your skin.

“No,” You protest, “I can do it,” It comes out whinier than you wanted it to—Much whinier, but you can’t deny that he’s wrong about that first part. Your brain is blurry in the best way. He hums in approval before gently pushing you away from his lips.

“Prove it, then.” He demands, and his hips are no longer bucking into you. Instead, you shakily begin to bounce against his cock, using his moans and gasps as guidance. His hands grip your thighs as you ride him. “There you go, angel. It’s not too much for you, right?” He hums.

“No!” You protest again, “No, Sir, I can take it,” He grins at the slip of the title. He swats the side of your thigh, rubbing it softly after you yelp, but it quickens your pace. His brain is beginning to fog too, so he knows he wants to get a few more comments out.

“Fucking liar,” he laughs, “Even when your.. fuck..” He gasps, the feeling of you clenching around him overwhelming him. “When you’re bouncing on my cock and moaning for me, you’re still lying..” His one hand travels to play with your clit, rubbing small circles into it. “So,” He takes a deep breath, leaning forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder, before picking his head back up. “I’ll ask you again.. Is it too much for you, my ditzy girl?”

Tears prick your eyes, as you will your brain to come up with a comprehensive answer.

“Yes!” You admit, “it’s too much,” You pant, but because you don’t say ‘red’ he keeps going.

“Aw, I know, honey,” He plants a soft kiss to your lips, the hand that isn’t rubbing circles into your clit coming up to brush sweaty hair from your face. “But you can take it. Come on, sweet thing, I know..” He hums. “Come for me, baby..”

And you do—You come hard, your vision going white for a fraction of a second as you let out these angelic noises. He doesn’t give a damn about noise complaints right now, all he can focus on is the smell of your sweat, your cum, and your pretty little noises.

You continue to rock your hips, wanting to feel his cum fill you up. And after a few more minutes, your wish comes true, as he grips your hip tightly with one hand as he comes deep inside you, as you roll your hips just a few more times, riding the last waves of a euphoric high.

His chest is heaving as you slump down against his chest. The pair of you are sweating, but he still looks so beautiful like this. His cock still fills you, his cum deep within you. His hand gently runs up and down your back,

“How’s my sweet girl doing..?” He’s afraid he went too far with you, hoping his words didn’t push you into a bad headspace. It’s happened before, where you just needed time to come back to reality. But tonight, you’re exhausted in a whole new way. You’re happy that you’ll actually be able to sleep.

“I’m good,” You promise. You’re sweaty, out of breath and completely fucked out of your mind.

He takes your jaw in his hand and tilts your head up so you’re looking in his general direction.

“You know I don’t really think you’re dumb, right?” He just needs to make sure.

“I know,” You giggle, “But it’s pretty hot in the moment. Besides, you took care of me.”

He grins and kisses your forehead.

“I’ll always take care of you.” He promises. You know he means it, too. Your Matty, always taking care of you. “You know you don’t need to worry about everything, right? You don’t have to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

“I know,” You start, “But you’re always so busy with the firm, and being Daredevil, and—” He hushes you softly.

“I am never too busy for you.” He says gently. “I know I can’t do your job for you, but I can be more careful and help with dinner, you know.” He just wants you to be less stressed all the time, the hypocrite.

“Okay.” You say gently. “Thank you, Matt.” He holds you close and places a soft kiss to your head.

“You’re still shaking,” He says gently, “But you need to shower.” He says softly, moving now so that he can carry you to your bathroom. You whine at the feeling of emptiness you’re left with when he slides out of you, and he just laughs. “I know, Baby, I know.”

Matt is just a general fan of taking care of you. Even when you’re fucked out of your mind like you are right now. You love that about him.

You love that the devil is so devoted to you. It stirs something deep inside you that you can’t quite voice. Matt knows it, too.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil fic #daredevil #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fluff #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock smut #dom!matt murdock #marvel smut #rough kink #never seeing the pearly gates #no plot

613 notes · View notes

doki-doki-imagines · 4 months

Note

Not sure if you take requests but could you write about Shang Tsung (and others) with breeding kink?🙏

feat. Shang Tsung, Bi-Han, Liu Kang, Syzoth (aka the guy I think would be into it)

tw: smut, afab!reader

author note: requests are open! It's been a while since I wrote smut, I hope you'll like these.

Shang Tsung: -He is staining your soul, putting his seed of evil into you. -The thought gives him goosebumps, his right hand keeping your leg up and open wide, while to other play with your nipple and at the same time pushes your back against his front. -The hand that way playing with your chest slides lower, now drawing patterns on your tummy that in a few month will be round and full. -Shang Tsung bites his lower lip, and close tight his eyes, it's a sinful thought that is bringing him too fast to the end. -"Let me cum inside, you want it too right? You always tell me, don't you remember?" He whispers into your ear, voice weavering at each of his thrust in your core. -You seriously don't remember ever telling him that, but you nod, too fucked, too lost in the throes of pleasure to formulate a coherent thought. -"I knew it, you will be an excellent brood mare." He smirks, wide and wicked. -Shang Tsung almost hope he didn't impregnate you this time, the idea so good he wants to try again and again. -Not that he will stop anyway…

Bi-Han: -He is the Grandmaster, you know? He needs heirs! -But Bi-Han isn't doing this to follow orders, his eyes liquid lust while looking at your soft body, phrases way too broken and badly formulated to be of a man following his duty. -"I'll make you full of my cum, I'll fuck you so good-" The sudden grip of your core make Bi-Han stops in his track, lost in the pleasure of your pussy suiting his cock like a glove. -It's not like you are doing any better, legs up his shoulders, hands scratching his biceps the only stable thing to keep you anchored to this moment, mind wandering in the sea of bliss at each of his hard thrusts. -Bi-Han can't stop thinking of your chest, filled to the brim with milk, soft and round begging to be touched, nipples hard desperate for some attention, tummy full of yours and his child. -His mind plays a dirty trick and he cums with just one last thrust, falling on top of you, groaning into your neck, while he fills you with his cum. -"Keep it all in, don't make a single drop fall."

Liu Kang: -He waited his entire life to be in peace and in love. Now it's time to step up the game. -The idea of you carrying his baby, your entire body glowing of happiness make his brain vessels close really fast, blood flowing to his crotch pathetically fast. -That's why now you are on your hands and knees, taking him like a champ, his thrusts hard and fast, the fat of your ass red from the slaps you counted a minute ago, the sound you are both making obscenely lewd. -Liu Kang isn't a gentleman. He is a man with a goal that he needs to accomplish if he doesn't want to become crazy. -Something that you already are, tears running down your face, drool escaping your open mouth, moans escaping freely. -"Please, lemme cum-" You sob "I've been good." You gasp out. -Liu Kang whines after hearing your voice. You always sound so good, and he is too weak to you. -"Take it all, my darling, you can do it. I know it." He prompts you on, close to the end himself. -And you do, not even a sound escapes your mouth, too tired and desperate, total opposite of Liu Kang whom cum into you, an high pitched moan blessing your ears. -You lay down, knees and arms weak after the intense session, trying to stabilise your breath, while your lover stay behind you, pulling out and admiring his work. -Liu Kang notices some cum rolling down your core, so he scoop it up with his index and middle finger to plunge it inside you again, earning him a whine. -"Don't waste any of it, keep it inside. It's holy, you know?"

Syzoth: -He gets a bit insane thinking of you having his kids, honestly. -That's why for the longest time, Syzoth won't say anything and keep this thought for himself, ashamed you may get scared. -But then he finds out you share his kink and his wall drop. But he'll ask to repeat yourself because Syzoth thinks his intrusive thought pulled a bad joke on him. -Syzoth prefers to enjoy his kink when he isn't in "heat", when his mind is a bit more stable and he can control himself a bit more. You tell him he is fine either way, but please respect his decision one step at a time. -Doesn't mean Syzoth won't rock your world anyway; you should know how hot your shy boy is. -Syzoth would bite your neck, tell him if he is being too rough, he may not be in "heat," but the blood isn't pumping only in his brain right now. -Don't tap out! For lizards, it means you are being submissive, and it is like an okay sign to keep going, Syzoth didn't agree on a safe word with you just for fun. -"You are so fucking big-" You turn your head back as best as you can, face still pushed into the mattress, voice almost a little whine "Fill me up, please cum inside!" -Syzoth doesn't have to mind to reply, but he understands enough to act, filling you to the brim, the idea of your full tummy and soft glow the last push he needed.

937 notes · View notes

another-lost-mc · 8 months

Note

Lucifer pretends not to know what is you’re doing when you send him sexy texts while he’s working away at RAD. He would rather do all the things you’re describing in person anyway, but alas, he must finish this paperwork for the student council first. And don’t you have class anyway? So maybe he doesn’t respond in the way you want him to but all it does drive you to more extreme methods.

He thinks the ding of his DDD is another attempt at enticing him to sext with you while you’re both busy at RAD but when he opens the text, it’s an image of you halfway undressed in the bathroom stall. That makes him do a double take. Oh, so that’s how you want to play? All right then.

Lucifer: Stay right where you are. I’m on my way.

➤ mid-day run | lucifer x reader

0.8k words | nsfw | gn!reader

cw: inappropriate use of RAD bathroom stalls; semi-public sex; slight degradation

The bathroom fills with the soft sounds of skin slapping against skin. Lucifer barely had to prepare you with his thick, gloved fingers—your body was stretched and dripping with anticipation for him. It only took a moment for him to unbuckle his pants and shimmy them low around his hips so his cock could spring free. The first deep thrust knocked the air out of you, and he buried his own groan in your shoulder. “You little slut, have you always been so needy?”

Your only response is a keening whine from the back of your throat, and he muffles the noise with two of his fingers. You swallow around them and taste yourself mixed with the earthy leather. There’s not much room to move, and Lucifer’s fingers curled around your hip and against the base of your throat keep you exactly where he wants you. All you can do is try to match his unsteady rhythm and chase the pleasure only he can offer you. You arch your back to try and draw him in deeper, so the fat tip of his cock keeps grazing that spongy spot hidden inside that makes your toes curl in your shoes.

He knows exactly what you're trying to do, but there's a lesson to be learned first. He presses down against your throat with the tiniest bit of pressure as he breathes a chuckle close to your ear. “You send me filthy messages, seduce me to come fuck you where anyone could find us, and you think you deserve to cum?”

“I couldn’t h-help it, I wanted you so bad—“

He cuts off your feeble excuses with a sharp snap of his hips, suddenly changing his pace to a deep, slow grind inside you instead of the disjointed thrusting from moments before. “Your grades aren’t good enough to be this distracted by lust, you sinful little creature.” His voice rumbles with a purr in your ear, and you know some of the annoyance is genuine. “We’re going to walk out of here, sweaty and reeking of sex, and whose fault will that be, hmm?” He bites your earlobe when you don’t respond—not enough to hurt, but enough to clear the pleasurable fog clouding your mind.

“It’s my fault,” you whimper. Your cheeks burn with frustration and humiliation in equal measure. He’s not moving at all anymore, simply warming his cock with your body while he reminds you what happens when you play these little games.

“Not such a dumb slut after all,�� he murmurs. He kisses your neck and starts thrusting again, fast and rough and purposeful. The hand around your neck slides down your body and starts stroking between your legs. His hand around your hip holds you up when your knees buckle at the force of your orgasm hurtling out of nowhere.

One of your hands is braced against the stall, but you reach back with the other until your fingers find purchase in his hair, messy and damp with sweat. He groans when you tug on the black-grey locks, and he glances down so he can watch his cock disappear inside you. “Where do you want me to cum?” he asks, offering a small mercy because he knows some of his options are messier than others. “All over your pretty little ass?" He smacks you lightly and then gropes the soft, fatty flesh with his fingers in apology. "Or between your thighs?”

You shake your head desperately. “Inside, please, I wanna feel all of you. I'm so close, I can’t—“ You shake as your orgasm washes over you first. Your body squeezes him and it drags pleasure from him too, and you both cum together. You bite into the sleeve of your uniform to muffle your cries while he bites his lip and grunts through his release. He pumps his hips until he’s completely emptied. His cum starts dribbling down the inside of your thigh when his softening cock slips free.

He tucks himself back into his pants while you catch your breath. He keeps one arm wrapped around you; your legs are still trembling and he doesn't want you to fall. His other hand reaches for the handkerchief he keeps in his pocket so you can clean yourself up. He happens to glance down and he realizes there's something captivating about the way your cum-slicked thighs glisten in the harsh light overhead. He pulls his D.D.D. from his pocket instead and you look over your shoulder, brows furrowed until your eyes widen with realization. “You look charming like this," he teases with a smirk as he takes a picture. Your face and chest are blurry in the photo; the swell of your bare ass and the mess between your legs are crystal-clear. It's a lovely memento of your time together, and he can't wait for the opportunity to tease you with it when you least expect it.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer smut #obey me smut #obey me x reader #x reader #gn!reader

796 notes · View notes

trashmouth-richie · 10 months

Text

eddie x Fem! Reader

honey I’m home masterlist

TW: 18+ hospitals, trauma, crying, etc

A/N: this is a short little chapter. the next one will be longer— thank you for hanging onto this story even though it took me forever to get it started. I have most of the next chapter done so it’ll probably be posted next week.

The blue and red lights are blinking in rapid succession. Painting the curtains in washes of ruby and royal.

The sirens should have been loud but Eddie figured it was the blood trickling down his head and into his ear canal that was preventing him from hearing clearly.

He fought with the first responders.

Fought with the people fussing over him and trying to rush him into an ambulance.

He refused to leave you.

He didn’t need to be cared for.

He didn’t care about anything.

Only you.

Mr. Derry’s loud knock and burst through the door was the exact distraction needed for Eddie to grip the bat in his bloody hand.

Rings squeezing tight around blood and the wooden handle, he swung hard. A suddenly athlete in a smokers body. He felt the thuds and friction vibrating in his forearms when the nailed head connected with flesh. But he didn’t stop until there were two crumpled bodies collapsed on the red stained carpet.

And when the ambulance crew met him at the door, gurney ready, you were wrapped tight in his arms. A faint pulse echoed like a whisper against your skin. Eddie’s tears streaming down his face and onto yours.

His promise pressed delicately to your lips.

—

“What have we got?”

“According to the patient’s friend, she is twenty-one-year, sir! you need to be looked at, and lived by herself for the past few months..”

I’m fine! Jesus— get off me and help her!

“…call came in at 2208 from a Mr. William Derry— the neighbor— claiming there were screams coming from across the street of his residence on Cherry Lane. Dispatch didn’t think to respond right away due to the many calls Mr. Derry has submitted to the Police Department.”

“Sir, I am not telling you again, you need to be checked out!”

“Jesus Christ.”

“When nobody showed up, the neighbor went across the street after hearing more screaming. Patient was held up by her throat by the DOA”

“Bill has him in truck 011, ID found on the body confirmed he was Chad Cunningham.”

—-

Eddie is standing before you, looking the same has he did the morning g after Halloween. It’s similar but different. There’s more light in the kitchen, and he is rosy cheeked like a cherub, his movements almost floating like angel wings as he moves the carton of orange juice hp to his lips, small glints of a silver nipple ring peaking out from the cutoff shirt he wore.

When he speaks, it’s like a harp is playing, all song and beautiful notes, extending and echoing around the room.

“So when do I get this trophy sweetheart?” He says with a grin, “thinking of putting on a shelf in my room,”

Your laugh feels like butterflies tickling your stomach, “you can’t be serious.”

His head dips as he walks towards you, smile displaying the prettiest teeth, “damn straight, want the whole town to know I had the best costume!”

“Stolen costume,”

“Pppffft, I just borrowed it.” the wink he delivers is almost sinful, toothachingly sweet enough to give a dentist a cavity, and you melt on the spot.

—

“Miss? Can you tell us your name? Can you tell us anything?”

Sterile.

Chemical.

You were either in a hospital or a morgue. You didn’t feel any pain so it very likely could be the worst of the two options. Whatever you were laying on was cold. And when you tried to move you found you couldn’t.

Is this death?

Eyelids heavy and unable to cooperate and make the connection with your brain on flicking open so you could see what was happening.

The only thing constant was a buzzing in both ears. A tug along your eyelids and rubber glove fingers on your body. But you were trapped in your mind, unable to speak, to scream, to show any physical movements other than the involuntary rise and fall of your chest and your lungs being filled with oxygen, fed through flexible plastic of the oxygen mask placed on your face.

Oblivious to your surroundings.

“Severe trauma to both eyes, laceration to the back of the head, severe swelling and possible damage to the larynx, Katerina, what did the CT show?”

“CT came back clear, X-Ray showed a break to both zygomatic bones, 5th and 6th ribs and a lacerated spleen…”

“Look at her nails, poor thing fought for her life,”

“they both did.”

You found the will to whisper what you needed to tell them. Voice hoarse and barely audible, removing the mask they look in horror back at your words, and immediately the feeling of warm liquid entering your veins and the blur of sleep covers your body.

—

He visits you again, this time you know it’s a dream. The pink clouds flow behind his head even though you are standing in the living room. But it’s different, blurred on the edges, hazy sweet and refined. How heaven could be described.

“I look good in this don’t even lie,” Eddie says with a spin, the white cotton of your robe resembling a mini skirt on his long legs, “but if you want me to take it off all you have to do is ask, I’m a pleaser, baby.”

He was every version of himself, handsome, gross and menacing. Sweet and caring, eye twinkling, soft voiced: Eddie. The beer taped to his hand like it was all those months ago when you splashed him awake, threatening to kick him out.

Delivering his classic one liners that you now knew helped fuel your love for him.

“What? Hair of the dog baby, gotta keep drinking to avoid a hangover.”

And maybe your love for him was always there.

Showing up in the background, fluttering bird wings of your heart before you even noticed.

Developing into something sweeter, deeper, so heartbreakingly sick it took a disaster and almost the last pulse in your veins for you to be able to admit it.

Steve had been pacing the cream colored tiles for over thirty minutes. The squeak of his Nikes against the floor were something Eddie was trying hard to focus on instead of worrying about you in the ICU, but so far it wasn’t working.

The nasal cannula was annoying, he could breathe fine on his own. The stitches in his eyebrow itched and stung with each weave through his skin, pulled taut around the swelling in his face.

The shot the nurses had administered to calm him down after screaming and trying to fight his way to you, was making his mind fuzzy— still, Steve’s pacing kept him company. Step step step squeak, step step step hand in hair, followed by an agitated huffing breath.

A nurse with a long blond ponytail braided down her back opens the polyester curtain with a drag and slips inside the room. A black rubber and steel stethoscope around her neck, before she could introduce herself Steve exploded with fury.

“Tell me what the hell is going on in this poor excuse for a hospital, right now!” Steve’s hair shook from its feathered position when he spoke, his demanding voice booming across the tiles.

Without missing a beat and clearly dealing with high strung men before she said almost monotonously, “Sir, you need to calm yourself down, this is a h-”

But Steve’s fire was only fueled by her dismissive tone, his voice never wavering, “No, I will not calm down! The police were made aware of this situation a year ago and nothing was ever done!”

The police officer standing outside guarding entry to the room tipped his head in slow, “Mr. Harrington, we hear your complaints but there isn’t anything we can—”

“Bullshit!” A tear stain cheeked Robin sobbed, her face red and blotchy from hours of crying and rubbing her freckles clean, “Eddie told you what happened yet he’s still cuffed to a bed like a fucking criminal!”

She broke down again, clinging to Steve’s side like a wounded child, sobbing into the soft cotton of his crewneck sweater. “This is unethical! Unco—”

“Alright that’s enough hot shot,” Hopper shouts in finality towards Steve, a wrinkle burrowed deep in his forehead accompanied with graying thick eyebrows set in a devastating frown.

“Chief,” Wayne interjects, cap wringing in his calloused, wrinkle bared hands, his voice wobbly but steady, runny nose and wet tears cling to his scruffy beard, “my son was protectin’ that girl, you know Eddie…he’d never hurt someone unless his life or someone he cared about was in danger.”

Hopper tore his gaze from the one of the richest in the room to the poorest, hanging his head with sorrow, “ ‘m sorry, Wayne— but until Mr. Derry’s statement comes back and Eddie is cleared… the cuffs stay.”

Wayne hung his head low, the few wiry hairs on his balding head stuck in all sorts of directions despite his attempt at raking them into submission.

“Jim Hopper you should be ashamed of yourself,” Karen Wheeler spoke up now, head held high, claw clip teetering with each gesturing movement of her head, “you know good and well this boy couldn’t have done that to her! They loved each other!”

Since the pacing of Steve’s feet had stopped Eddie’s heart rattled hard in his chest, he clawed at the heart monitors on his chest, tried to bite the IV’s from his arms, caged like a wild animal he let out a broken cry, “ple— please, she needs me.”

“Mr. Munson,” the nurse with blonde hair replies sternly, “she is in critical condition, we don’t know if or when she will be able to to recover, she is heavily sedated and needs rest, her only visitors will be family at this time.”

“Speaking of,” another nurse chirps, young and fresh gilled, entirely too eager to please her superior, “do you know how to get a hold of her family?”

He shakes his head slow, causing a pounding headache, “I am her family,” Eddie grunts through clenched teeth, pushing himself up on the bed as far as his cuffs would allow, Steve’s hand on his shoulder. “Look around this room! Ted and Karen Wheeler, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Nancy Byers.. we are all she has,” a single tear falls down his bruised cheek, liquid salt in the cut in his top lip.

“Okay sir.. who is responsible for her?”

“In regards to what? Financially? You money hungry pricks just don’t let up so you?,” Ted Wheeler finally speaks behind his wife, shock and anger evident on his wrinkled features.

“Not exactly…”

“Whatever it is, I will handle it, alright?” Eddie interjects, annoyed with the questions, worried only about you, “I’m responsible for her.”

“Oh,” the nurse says, perking up slightly, marking a red check mark on her clipboard, smoothing out her uniform, “so you are aware of her condition then.”

Light bulbs click for everyone in the room but the curly brown haired metal head.

Oh my God

…Tooty

Holy shit.

“That she got the shit kicked out of her by that fucking psycho Chad Cunningham?”

Eddie.

Ma’am can we talk privately in the hall?

“…obviously I’m aware! I was there when it happened! That dumb fuck already took my statement!” he said gesturing to Deputy Wallace.

“No, Mr. Munson..”

This isn’t the time for this! Wayne tried to warn the nurse, but it fell on deaf, naive ears.

“…she’s right around twelve weeks pregnant.”

A pin dropping could have been heard from a mile away. The oxygen was sucked from the room. Karen’s hand was clapped around her mouth. Nancy and Robin choked back sobs.

Everyone was struck with horror, but not Eddie.

His mind playing that beautiful night between you like a movie in his head. The way your skin felt, the way his heart ached with fullness at your shared fervor and passion.

REWIND

PLAY

The curve of your lips on his skin, kissing him sweet and slow, no noise, just the love making swallowing you both whole.

REWIND

PLAY

PAUSE

Your soft snores as he counted the popcorn marks in the ceiling, his girl. His entire universe.

STOP

EJECT

The tears rolled like a ferocious river down his face, carving a path down his cheeks and under his wobbling chin, wetting the hospital gown he was forced into when he got here.

You were alone.

He didn’t know anything about pregnancy besides the woman usually got sick right? Every emotion that most men feel when finding out they were going to be a dad hit him all at once.

But not fear.

He imagined you with a big swollen belly, feet too pudgy to fit into shoes, he’d rub them with lotion until you could fall asleep.

He’d imagined his arms holding you from behind, your baby wrapped in his arms still in your womb. The relief you might feel from the weight being in his hands.

You were experiencing this pain all by yourself.

He couldn’t fathom how you were feeling. Scared. Hopeless? He had no idea. And the thought of you being alone had him nauseous.

Why didn’t you didn’t tell him?

Why didn’t anyone tell him?

His fury built and shook as his voiced boom with grief as he screamed at Steve, dark eyes blood shot and red rimmed.

“How could you,” he broke, struggling through the words, "why would you not tell me?!” The cuffs around his wrist broke skin as he tried to claw his way out of them, trying to reach at Steve’s shirt demanding to be heard.

“Ed— fuck man!” Steve started, mouth gaping at Eddie’s arms dripping with blood from his fresh wounds, “we didn’t know!”

Robin speaks now, trying to reach for Eddie’s hand to offer him some comfort, “She didn’t tell us, Eddie—Steve is right, she didn’t say a word to any of us about it.”

“Fuck!” Eddie screams, slamming his wrists into the bed sides, “I sh—should h-have..,” the end falls silent as his long legs were pulled to his chin and he buried his head into them.

In the minutes it had been since he found out, he was already a shitty fucking dad.

The pain of what happened to you and him not being able to stop it quick enough was killing him, and now, realizing that you were carrying his child and you were all alone?

There weren’t words for the gut wrenching feeling ripping through him. Overwhelming dread, chest tight with panic and pain. The nausea overtaking him. The vomit came fast, splashing allover himself and the bed, landing in thick puddles on Steve’s shoes. He cried harder and sobbed uncontrollably. When his stomach was empty he could only dry heave.

Wayne moved across the tiled floor in quick steps, careful not to slip in the wayward puke in his path. Sitting down hard and with purpose next to Eddie. This wasn’t his first rodeo of seeing Eddie in this turmoil. But never as a grown man.

He tried his hardest to hold back the tears he swore he’d never let fall in front of his boy, but gravity won the fight when Eddie pulled him into a bone crushing hug, his sobs snuffed by the canvas of his work jacket.

———

It was a full 12 hours before Mr. Derry’s statement was released. Tough old bird, he couldn’t be coerced even with the gentle threat from the Cunningham’s came down hard breathing down his neck.

Surely not their son? Their angel?

But the proof was there. An eye witness statement and a severely beaten woman, the record from years past and the statement from both Steve and Robin on what happened last year at your apartment, stood its ground.

Eddie was cleared as a free man, self defense in the eyes of the law. The second his cuffs were off he was throwing his boots onto his gripper socked feet, and untangling himself from wires and needles.

Steve and Wayne had both taken off work to help Eddie pick up his medication and make him go home and rest. When he tried to protest, Wayne gave Eddie a look that could pierce steel, the kind of look saying no bullshit, and begrudgingly he followed the men out to Steve’s Mercedes.

Nancy and Karen stayed behind at the hospital, filling your room with heavily perfumed flowers. Hushed whispers between the mother and daughter as they prayed and hoped that you would make it out of this horrific nightmare.

The doctors would only speak to Eddie. Letting him aware that your condition was improving but they would not be able to lift the sedation just yet. A day passed then another. Eddie slept in the hospital grade recliner in your room each night. Singing you sweet lulls of your favorite song. Promising you the world if you would just open your eyes.

He was weak himself. Fighting the urge to break down in front of anyone again with each hour that passed.

4 days led to 5 and the nurses and doctors whispered behind their clipboards. On the 6th day they decided to lift the sedation to see how your body would tolerate pain.

Eddie never left.

Machines beeped and ticked. Tubes and wires connecting from you drip with fluid and monitoring systems. The white walls and outdated curtains of the hospital shine a yellowed glow into your room, bringing with it a warmth to your cotton thread blanket and warming the skin on your arms. A welcomed feeling compared to the cold needles of the IV poking into your skin delivering flows of medicine and liquids to keep you hydrated and your pain manageable.

Foiled balloons printed with get well wishes bounce and sway with the kick on from the vent.

One of your hands is unexpectedly warmer than the other. A rough drag across the knobs of your knuckles is a familiar feeling, and you smell him before you even open your eyes to acknowledge that it’s him.

The clinging smell of cigarettes on a freshly washed shirt and the spice of deodorant force their way into your nose. It’s a different shampoo than the one you’re used to catching on him. More manly. All sandalwood and musk a hint of citrus. And at first you think he’s someone else… maybe Steve picked up smoking heavily again?

But when a tuned hum reverberates low against your hand followed by a pair of lips kissing gently around the IV and tape poked and laid against your skin, you know for certain it’s the man you’ve been dreaming about.

The one you cried for.

The one who visited your sleeping mind and told you everything was going to be okay.

His name falls from your lips like choked frozen honey, thick in your mouth and on a dry tongue.

It was the most beautiful noise he had ever heard.

His girl. His whole world. Awake.

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #fic recs #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #stranger things

905 notes · View notes

depravitycentral · 9 months

Text

Yandere! Uvogin x fem! reader

Just a little blurb about Uvogin's voice

Tw: praise, Uvogin has a big dick but don't worry he believes in prep and foreplay, brief mentions of gender roles, slight predator/prey dynamic, Stockholm syndrome, fem reader, MDNI

The way Uvogin talks to you in bed is downright fucking filthy.

He's an animal when your clothing comes off, and the way he fucks you is no different.

He's gentle, at least in the beginning, and prepares you exceedingly well to take what he knows is a very, very sizeable cock. He's rubbing your clit for what feels like hours, his mouth pressing kisses against your neck and collarbones and nipples while he groans and tells you that you're so damn pretty, baby, my ideal woman.

He'll finger you and cock a brow when you gasp and throw your head back, his teeth nipping at your shoulders while he tells you that you look good with your mouth open, princess, makes me wanna fill it up for you.

He'll ease into you slowly, carefully, fighting back the urge to slam into you and absolutely annihilate you, instead telling you in a strained voice that you're so damn tight, fuck, how are you still so fucking tight -

He lets you control the pace, perching you in his lap while he lays back with his hands behind his head, a smirk plastered across his lips as he watches you slowly lift yourself up and down, your cute little cunt struggling to fit him even three quarters of the way inside.

You're endearing, of course, and Uvogin can't help but comment - he's always complimenting you, praises falling from his lips along with growls and groans and deep, low timbres of shit babe, do that again.

But really, the thing that makes his dirty talk so provocative and arousing is the actual sound of his voice. It's sin when he's talking to you, all gruff and raspy and warm when he's telling you that you're so damn tight baby, am I stretchin' you out? Bet you're feeling so full of me, god this pussy was made for me.

His voice gets you gushing slick around him, your nerves standing on edge because god, he just dominates the room, even if you're the one on top.

He's resting one large hand on your hip, fingers groping and squeezing and kneading, helping move you up and down when he notices you're getting tired, his words a mix of a moan, a gasp, and a low growl when he sits up to groan against your neck that you're doing so well for me princess, I'll have to reward you after - I'm thinking I make you come on my tongue a few times, how does four sound?

It's just so deep and low and undeniably, overwhelmingly masculine that it drives you crazy, his presence and the feeling of him touching you and being inside you only makes it worse, your mind scrambling because god, he sounds like the stuff of your fantasies. (And, the longer you're with him, the more you'll realize maybe this is your fantasy - your big, strong, doting, suffocating captor stuffing you full of his cock, whispering into your ear about how you're so good and soft and fitting me like a fucking glove, you must've been for me, huh? My own little hole to fuck and warm and love - shit, isn't that romantic babe?)

And there's something about it that just feels right; the way he makes you feel all feminine and small and soft, like he's your big, strong man, the one who protects you and loves you, only asking for you to spread your legs for him in exchange.

Uvogin has this way of making you go brain dead when he's touching you, his voice sounding like sweet honey in your ears because everything he says just makes you wetter, his breath against your skin just makes you shiver, the sound of his low, rumbling laugh making you clench down when you squirm and tell him that it's too embarrassing, it's too much, I can't take any more!

He's just big and domineering and talks like he's hunting you in a weirdly sexy, strange way - like you're his prey, like he's pouncing on you and will consume you in every way possible.

It's exciting, you'll find. It makes you feel good, wanted, desired, and his booming voice will only further the feeling of being a little lamb trapped in the big bad wolf's jaws - and you're oh so excited to see what your punishment is for getting caught by such a monster.

(Frankly, it'll get to the point where even not in the bedroom, you'll still get aroused just from hearing the simplest, most innocent phrases fall from his lips - exactly what Uvogin wants. You're just too cute and sexy and your cunt fits him just too perfectly.)

#_lee thirsts #_uvogin #_hxh #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #hxh smut #yandere uvogin #uvogin smut

698 notes · View notes

written-in-flowers · 16 hours

Text

Their Pretty Pet: Sanhwajoong x Fem!reader

Pairing: Incubus!Hongjoong, Incubus!Seonghwa, Incubus!San x Fem!Human!Reader | side pairings: SanHwaJoong

Genre: smut, loads of it MINORS DNI

Word Count: 7k

Summary: Being brought before Lords of Inferno, you expected to be killed on the spot, except the three incubi take an extreme liking to you instead. You are the pet they've been looking for, and you should could yourself lucky.

Tags: Master/Slave relationship, polyamory, mmmxf, foursome sex, triple penetration, oral sex (m. and f. giving/receiving), rough oral sex, vaginal fingering, handjobs, pet names ("pretty" "pet" "whore" "slut" "bitch" "kitten" "darling" and variations/ "master" "my lord") monster fucking, demon fucking, belly bulging, bigdick!ateez, creampies, massive creampies, degradation, slight humiliation, slight dumbification, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, rough sex, bisexual sex, breeding kink, vibrating demon dick, spanking, nipple play, breast play, cum swallowing, deep throating, anal sex.

@pirateeznet

***

The nerves rattled your bones, and weakened your knees. Your mind told your feet to keep up with Rufus, but your body did not cooperate. Only by the tug of a chain did you finally move. Even with the hot steam coming from the stone cracks, and the warm air blowing through the night, a cold sweat came over you. You had no business coming up the Black Keep. Sinners like you are meant to be an amusement for the lower demons; you committed sins in your life that earned you a spot in the third level of Hell. You spent eternity in the brothels of the inner circle, being a pleasure slave to anyone with enough coin.

You’d learned high class only pays for well bred slaves or lesser demon forms. The ones trained in the finer arts, who can speak multiple languages, can do magic, and are skilled in instruments of culture and torture. You only learned the sexual practices Your clients and owners taught you.

They won't want you, and the moment they realize what you are, you're dead.

“Stop dawdling, wretch,” Rufus, a large, muscular demon with bright red skin and tall black horns, tugged on your chain harshly. He then growled when you did not move. “Lords do not wait on bottom dwellers like you.”

You said nothing as you forced yourself to move. In your flimsy shift, you could feel every brush of hot air blow past you. It normally did not bother you, but it felt hard to breathe through your tight chest. He guided you to the tall wooden doors with their gargoyle head knockers. In three loud slams of the knocker, the door creaked open. On the other side stood a very tall man with black hair parted to the side. He wore a black and white suit and gloves. Round eyes carried a certain haughtiness that you'd grown used to seeing.

“Can I help you?” He asked.

“Evening, I have come to see The Masters Hongjoong, Seonghwa and San. I have brought a prospective pet for them,” Rufus responded, tugging your chain to bring you closer.

The butler took one look at you, then stood aside. “Very well. Follow me. They are just finishing with another proprietor.”

Rufus didn't like the idea of another slave owner being in the castle. It meant competition, and he hated that. He, as always, took it out on you by roughly pulling on your leash. The butler led you through a hall of black and white marble, surrounded by landscape paintings and other ancient possessions. A candlelit chandelier hung from the high ceiling, bathing the room in a bright golden glow. The carpet liners on the floor felt soft beneath your feet, and the castle did not feel as hot inside. He took you around the staircase into an adjacent hallway, where you saw her.

A succubus and her handler left the room; the handler seething and the succubus in silent tears. From her expensive lace and satin halter dress to her gold sandals, to the golden ornaments in her hair, you knew a succubus when you saw one. She had real horns and a real tail. Rufus paid a stylist to braid and glue ram horns into your head; then he paid a leatherworker to create a realistic tail to seal on your tailbone. The braiding pained your scalp, the glue made you nauseous, and the tail swished uncomfortably. How long did Rufus think this charade will last? Long enough for him to run off with the money, no doubt. You hated thinking of what would happen when your “owners” find out you’re not a demon at all. They’ll tear you apart, and send you to the deepest pits where the worst of the worst suffer an eternity of torment.

The thought terrified you.

“Masters,” the butler said when he entered a sitting room, “Another slave owner has arrived with a prospect for you.”

The voice inside the room turned quiet. “Who?” asked a particularly high voice.

The butler turned to Rufus, “Name?”

“Rufus, from the House of Kisses.”

The butler repeated this to his masters. “Bring him in,” the voice finally said.

Rufus brought you into the room. Full of warm light, pricy decorations, and extravagant furniture, you'd never been amongst such opulence before. Three loveseats sat in the middle of the room around a square coffee table. A different man sat on each one. You knew they were incubi by the small curved horns on the crown of their heads. Demons of lust carried this trait, as well as long black tails to match. The petite man with hair the color of fresh cherries spotted you first. He casually drank from a brandy glass as he observed you. His satin black shirt and slacks gave him a trendy look that would kill in the living world.

Beside him in the center on the white couch sat a long-limbed man with black hair reaching his shoulders. Angular features gave him a deadly appearance that matched the glint in his dark eyes. The cream colored shirt he wore was kept together by a matching corset and pants. He didn’t look up at first, since he focused mainly on the book in his lap instead.

The third sat on a couch of dark blue cotton with gold pillows. His big shoulders stretched the blazer he wore, which you noticed covered nothing but his bare chest. Sculpted and tan, he was to die for.

And you just might when they learn the truth.

“Slaver,” the butler addressed Rufus, “May I present Lords Hongjoong,” he gestured to the red haired man, “Seonghwa,” he motioned to the man holding the book, “And San.”

“Well met, my lords.”

“Well, well, well,” Hongjoong said in a bored voice, knocking back the rest of his drink, “Look, Brothers, another slaver coming to waste our time.”

“Oh, no, my lord,” Rufus said, “I promise your time will not be wasted on this one.”

“Why is that?” asked Seonghwa, putting his book aside.

“This one here's a true blood succubus,” he said, already putting on his salesman voice. “Born and bred in the valley, she is a true born demon. She's nothing like the half-breeds and soulless human shells those other charlatans bring before you. See here, my lords?” He roughly pulled you to them by your horn, “These are real succubus horns! And this tail!” He yanked on your long, thin tail, “Is entirely her own. I know some slavers have been sticking on fake parts, but I assure you, my lords, this one's the real thing!”

The three men looked at one another, then back to him. “Bring her closer.”

Rufus pulled you over to them, letting you stand in the warm firelight. Three pairs of eyes stripped off your dress, and peeled back the layers of your skin to your soul. San's thin eyes fell heavy when he saw you fully. Seonghwa held you with intrigue, while Hongjoong looked ready to devour you. You gulped thickly and did not look at any of them directly.

“What can you do?” Hongjoong asked.

“Do, my lord?”

“Yes, do. Can you speak any languages besides the common tongue?”

“No.”

“Can you read and write?”

“Some.”

“Can you sing?”

“No.”

“Dance?”

“No.”

“Do you specialize in any form of magic?”

“No.”

The more he asked, the dumber you felt. You wanted to tell them to look at you. You are not a demon, let alone a succubus.

“Then what can you do?” He asked, laughing softly.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said, “Stop being so mean. It's not her fault.” He stood up and walked towards you. Lifting your head by the chin, he said, “The only thing these low born succubi are taught is how to suck cock…isn't that right, pet?”

“Yes,” you squeaked.

“And can you do that?”

“She certainly can, my lord!” Rufus said from behind, “YN is one of my best! She's made men cum in less than two minutes!”

“I was asking her,” the man snapped. “I personally have no interest in slaves who do quick, sloppy work. I like to take my time.” He touched a strand of your hair, feeling the texture and taking in the length. “You'll need good grooming,” he noted flatly. “Luckily, Wooyoung is an expert in his field. He'll make you shine, little pet.”

It happened then, or at least you think it did. A flicker of realization hit Seonghwa as he looked over your face. He gave an audible sniff, his demon senses beginning to tingle. Yet, he said nothing about it, and turned your head to examine you in the light.

“Can she fight?” San asked Rufus.

“Psh, can she fight?” He scoffed comically at the question, “Of course she can! She used to be a pit fighter in-”

“-Can you fight?” He turned to you.

“No.”

“Why would she need to learn how to fight, San?” Hongjoong asked, annoyed. The butler came around to refill his drink. “She won't be doing any of that. She could get badly damaged, and then where would we be, hm?”

“Do you like going to the arena?” San asked, ignoring Hongjoong.

“I've never been there.”

San nodded, then leaned back on his couch and held out his glass. The butler poured more brown liquid for him, and you watched him take a drink.

“Yunho,” Seonghwa left you by the fireplace and went to his couch, “What do you think of her?”

“Master?” Yunho asked, confused.

“Yes, what do you think of her? You'll be around her too. Is she pleasing to look at in your opinion?”

Yunho turned to you, and seemed to be really looking at you now. He scanned over your horns the most. They’re meant to look like his, curled and rolled back from his face. If anyone could spot fake ones, it should be him. You expected him to out you, but he instead said, “Yes. She is lovely.”

The three men appear to take this into account. “Take off your dress,” Hongjoong orders.

“Well, hold on now, my lord,” Rufus begins to say, “We haven't discussed-”

“-I am not paying for something without inspecting it myself,” Hongjoong glared at Rufus. The ghoulish demon falters at this, and you see him back away. Hongjoong turned back to you, “Your dress. Take it off.”

You immediately unclip the back of your dress and let the top half fall over your belt. The sight of your breasts stunned the three men. Their eyes focused on them before you loosened your belt and let the rest of your clothes fall. Seonghwa bit the corner of his lip, trying to control his breathing as his eyes fell between your thighs. This is not the first time customers examine you. You’d grown used to it over the years of being in Hell. You are a toy to be played with. You are not your own anymore. You lost that when you began your life of lust, greed and overindulgence. When presented with the option to continue punishment or serve demons instead, you took servitude over the painful torture. In a way, enslavement was its own breed of torture.

Hongjoong turned in his seat, leaning against the arm rest as he continued gazing at you. San coughed and covered his own interest with a drink, but he still kept his eyes on you.

“Beautiful,” Seonghwa breathed. “Absolutely stunning.”

“You keep her groomed between her thighs but not the rest?” Hongjoong asked Rufus, though he kept his eyes on you.

“That's what they care about the most. My patrons do not have your refined tastes, my lord.”

“Clearly. Come here.”

You walk to him, which brings a smile to Hongjoong's face. “You obey instructions well,” he said, looking back down to your sex. “I like that.”

He gently touched the outside of your thigh, feeling the smooth skin and groping the supple flesh. You took in how his fingers felt on your thigh, the sensation sending shivers throughout your body. Hongjoong ran his hand up and down your thigh before reaching around to your backside. He gave one cheek a tender squeeze, humming his approval.

“Very nice,” he commented, moving his hand between your thighs. You gasped when his fingers brushed your exposed center. “Very, very nice,” he said, rubbing his knuckle lightly along your slit. He chuckled when he heard your whimper. “Do you like that?”

“Yes.”

He licked his thumb while maintaining eye contact, then he dragged it across your lips. A soft whimper escaped your throat as he traced the outer folds one by one; right when you thought he'd finally touch more, he dipped away. Finally, Hongjoong rolled his thumb around your clit, running over it languidly. Once a bit of wetness covered his thumb, Hongjoong tasted it while he gazed up at you.

“Delicious,” he said, going back to rubbing your sex torturously slow. “I could get used to this.”

“Stop hogging,” griped Seonghwa. He took your hand to lead you from Hongjoong's black leather sofa to his pure white one. He took over, and you gasped when two thumbs pushed your lips apart. “The best way to know is to taste it right from the source,” he said, leaning forward.

A single swipe of his tongue made you quiver. You weren’t sure if they enjoyed reactions, so you kept silent and stiff. Seonghwa took both sides and dove right to your center. You felt his tongue gingerly swiping at your damp lips, sliding between to tease your clit as much as possible. Your teeth dug into your bottom in an attempt to restrain your whimpering. However, your shaking knees started giving you away.

“Moan for us, pretty,” Seonghwa ordered, pecking kisses across your thighs. “We want to hear how sweet you sound.”

“Don’t be shy,” San said, palming himself through his pants. “Let it out.”

So you did. The sounds you tried stifling came out as Seonghwa’s tongue rapidly flicked at your clit. You’d been shaking by the time San came up behind you, and pressed your back to his chest. Without a word, he lifted one of your legs to rest it on the edge of the couch, and became a support to keep you upright. With more access to you, Seonghwa angled himself to have your sex completely on his mouth. San’s warm hands cupped both your breasts, and grazed your hard nipples with his thumbs. The light brushes added to the tightening sensation going on in your gut.

“I’ve never seen a shy succubus before,” San said, voice low and deep in your ear. “I thought you all liked being fucked from sun up to sun down. Unless…you’re not really a demon at all?”

“Wha-what?” Rufus exclaimed. “I told you she was, didn’t I?! I assure you, my lord-”

Rufus stopped when San reached to the “tail” you wore and tore it from you in a hard snap. The glue Rufus used ripped at your skin, the pain only distracting you from your pleasure for a brief moment. Seonghwa ceased when San tossed the fake tail onto the couch. Seeing the rubber extension beside him, he looked up to the horns braided into your scalp. It’d taken the stylist hours to fix them on your head, using loads of glue and tight lacing to keep them upright. Seonghwa stood up and tugged on one. You let out a cry, killing any arousal inside you as he lifted it enough to see your hair braided into the holes.

“How dare you,” San scowled from behind you, “Try and fool us, you pathetic little worm.”

“I-I-I…” Rufus struggled for a defense, and went for the only one he could think of, “She’s a human? I-I can’t believe it! The slaver I bought her from said she was a pureblood! I had no idea! I promise you, my lord, if I’d known that she was a human, I would never have dared bring her here!”

“How stupid do you think we are?” San asked, leaving you to face Rufus. “You really thought you could bring a human up here and try passing her off as a trueborn demon? Did you forget that the three of us are demons too?”

“I swear, my lord, I did not know! I am just as surprised as you are!”

A quick slash of silver and a spray of black blood went through the air. Rufus’s large hands clutched at his neck as blood started pouring from the open wound. He collapsed to the ground, gasping and gurgling pathetically as he clung to life. You didn’t know where demons went if they died, and you never asked. When Rufus finally laid dead on the floor, San held out his hand and Yunho produced a white handkerchief. San used it to wipe off the blade before handing both to Yunho.

“Get rid of this filth,” San commanded, “Have Mingi help you.”

“At once, Master.”

San turned around to you, and all the blood drained from your body. Alone with three incubi who were nearly swindled by your idiot slaver, you knew where they’d turn their anger next. You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting a harsh blow any second. The second a pair of hands touched your hips, you jolted and gave a small squeal of fear. Yet, instead of harsh bruises or angry words, you felt warm lips dotting kisses on your thighs. San unbuttoned and removed his jacket, his tanned torso glowing in the fire light, and his dark eyes gleaming with lust. Hongjoong did the same, untucking and unbuttoning his shirt.

“Pl-Plea-se,” you begged, eyes starting to sting, “I-I had nothing to do with it. I was only doing what I was told. I swear, I didn’t want to do it. He made me. I can only do what my owners tell me to do. I promise I’d never-”

“-Relax, pet,” Seonghwa soothed you with more kisses, doing so as he unclipped his corset and tossed it aside. “We’re not angry with you at all.”

“You’re not?”

“Why would we be?” Hongjoong asked, taking San’s place behind you. His warm naked chest slowly rekindled the arousal inside you. Hands sailing up your body to your tits, he grabbed them gently as he spoke in your ear. “We just got a new pet for free. I don’t see that as a reason to be angry, do you?”

“But…But, I’m useless. I’m not a succubus or any other kind of demon. I’m…”

“Fresh,” he said, kissing your neck, “Brand new. You’re like fresh clay, ready to be molded however we want. Why would I want a regular demon who already knows everything over a human that I can shape to my tastes instead?”

“Succubi are boring, in my opinion,” said San, unbuckling his pants as he watched the other two kiss and fondle you. “They all like the same things, cast the same spells, and bore me to tears with their seductive talk. I told my brothers I wanted something new; something I’ve never tried before. We’re incubi, so banging other succubi or incubi can get boring. It’s fine if we’re feeding, but for pleasure…I prefer something a little more interesting.”

“And you’re such a pretty thing too,” Seonghwa added, kissing up your stomach as he stood up. “So soft and warm,” he slashed one of your nipples with his tongue, “And you taste so good.”

“Your pussy tastes like honey,” said Hongjoong, who held your breasts for Seonghwa to suck on. “I fear I might grow addicted to it after tonight.”

“I haven’t gotten a taste yet,” San protested, who walked over to the three of you fully nude.

He turned you to face him, the other two falling to your sides instead, as he slipped his hand against your wet center. Two fingers teased around the edges of your clit, occasionally brushing up on it before pulling away. The repeated motions made you dizzy, and you knew you’d cum sooner or later. The three of them created this intense arousal inside you that burned like fire. They’d made a knot in your pussy, and only with their fingers and tongue could it be undone. San licked Your essence off his fingers, approving of your supposed sweet taste. Hongjoong and Seonghwa continued teasing your nipples; each man took one side to grab and lick while San touched your pussy.

“She is yummy,” he smirked, going back for a second taste with wet fingers. “But, I’d love to see what she can do with these pretty lips.”

He coated both his fingers in you again before lifting them to your mouth. Instinctively, you opened for him to slide them over your tongue. The three of them groaned when you sucked your juices off his fingers; the act alone made you throb.

“Let’s take our pet somewhere more comfortable,” Seonghwa suggested, reaching between your thighs to rub you. “It’s our first time. We should enjoy her properly.”

“I agree,” said Hongjoong, licking up your neck while his hand joined Seonghwa on your pussy. Each demon took turns rubbing circles around your sensitive clit while San slid his thumb into your mouth next, “Besides, it’s too dark in here. I want to see all of her while I fuck her senselessly.”

They spoke about you as if you weren’t standing there, and you liked it. You’d learned long ago that you’re meant for pleasure. It was so rare a demon gave it back to you that you’d do nothing to ruin your chances. With a click of their fingers, you found yourself standing in a dimly lit room. Not bothered by your surroundings at the moment, you let the three men take you over to a large canopy bed in a corner of the bedroom. It was wide enough to comfortably fit all four of you, with white and pale blue sheets matching the drapes tied to the bedposts. They sat you on the edge of the bed, circling you with their cocks in their hands. They were perfect. Longer and thicker than you’re used to, you knew they’d split you open in the best possible way. You swallowed the saliva building in your mouth seeing them up close now.

“Stick out your tongue for me.”

Hongjoong held himself by the shaft as he rubbed his tip on your tongue. The high moans he let out only fueled the flames. You licked up and down his length, tracing the veins pumping blood through it before taking him in your mouth. Humming around the sensitive head, you tasted the thin, salty precum already. Hongjoomg let out soft sighs as he watched you work him into your mouth inch by inch. Dark eyes full of lust, you suddenly became his entire world. While you gingerly sucked his cock, you started slowly stroking Seonghwa and San’s in time with it. You enjoyed the feeling of them pulsating in your hands; the muscles twitched whenever your thumb touched the underside, tracing the wrinkles just underneath the head. It reminded you of home for a moment: the big New Year’s office party where you fucked those three interns in the mailroom. They’d been so hot and you’d been so horny, the consequences at the time didn’t bother you. They never did, quite frankly. You were a big shot CEO. You had expensive tastes and an insatiable appetite. You still had that even in Hell where you’re nobody.

“Take it all the way,” Hongjoong groaned, holding your head to push further into your mouth. “I know you can. Sluts like you are experts at taking dicks in your throat. You can do it.”

You coughed and sputtered around him as he sunk towards your throat. His tip brushing against your uvula created a gagging sound that made all three men moan. Your pussy throbbed as you took him in your throat, loving how it blocked your airway entirely and nearly suffocated you. Hongjoong enjoyed this for a few strokes before pulling you off him, strings of spit connecting you both until he fully moved away. Seonghwa turned your head to face him, and laughed when you opened your mouth for him.

“She certainly understands her place already,” he said, holding your hair as he started fucking your mouth. “We don’t need to go through the trouble of breaking her.”

“She’s been broken for quite a while,” groaned San, who guided your hand to spread his precum over his thick cock. “I can tell. She gives into it so easily.”

“She knows what she’s made for,” Hongjoong grinned, keeping your hand still as he pushed into it instead. “Don’t you, slut?” They laughed when you nodded in agreement. “You see, you don’t have to be a demon to be well bred.”

“She’ll certainly be bred after tonight.”

“If only,” San mused somewhat sadly.

So rarely did you get to enjoy good looking demons. The ones who came to the “House of Kisses” were foul-smelling, long-clawed, black-eyed creatures who squealed and grunted through it. They acted more like animals humping their favorite stuffed toy. You hardly ever enjoyed a lover who took their time with you, who tasted delightful and gave you pleasure in return. It was something you'd do anything to keep.

When Seonghwa pulled out, San turned your head to keep your mouth full. You’d initially sucked him firmly, moaning around his cock while sinking down to the base every time. Drool dropped onto your chest as you did so, not daring to break away unless he said so. But then, San held you by the hair as his brothers had done and made his own pace.

“Suck a little softer, pet. I like it more-Oh, yes,” he sighed dreamily, melting in your mouth as you followed his instructions exactly. “Someone really is trying to avoid going back down there, hm?” he joked, head tilting back once you started slowly deep-throating him. “Don't worry, pet,” he soothed you with gentle head pats, “You're not going anywhere.”

This went on for a while: they all took various turns in your mouth, and you sucked according to how they enjoyed it. Hongjoong went rougher, shoving himself in your mouth and guiding you by the neck. Seonghwa kept it steady and breathily gave orders as if you’d never given a blowjob before. San, as you expected, liked it light and soft. You’d learned how to play to a client’s appetites in order to avoid upsetting your owners. If a customer complained enough or you’d disobeyed them somehow, you’d end up back in the winds of lust. You didn’t want to be flung around the air in dizzying circles; the harsh, cold winds freezing your skin while bits of debris or other prisoners crashed into you. It had been madness. They tortured you by making you feel relentless sensations of all kinds. You'd taken part so much in life, your death only made sense.

You shouldn't have snorted all that blow.

“On the bed,” Hongjoong ordered, “It’s our turn now.”

You slid further up the bed until your lower half hung off the edge. San and Seonghwa each propped a leg onto their shoulder, and kept you fully exposed to the three of them. The hunger in their eyes created a whole new arousal for you; your breath hitched when Hongjoong laid a flat, wide lick up your wet lips, ending with a hard suck to your clit. Your needy whine pleased them, and brought on more attention. San laid soft kisses and gentle nips of his teeth down your inner thighs. Your pussy throbbed in Hongjoon’s expert mouth, which caused him to chuckle against it. Seonghwa did the same, licking from knee to the apex of your thighs where he flicked your pussy tenderly.

The pleasure boiled inside you when two fingers slipped between your folds. San rolled his thumb around your clit while Hongjoong and Seonghwa joined together to finger you. Their groans joined yours as you lost yourself in the feeling building in every stroke.

“She has such a pretty pussy,” Seonghwa moaned, pushing his finger into the last knuckle. He and Hongjoong fingered you at different speeds, so neither one left your pussy empty and wanting. “It’s so wet and squeezing my finger nicely. I can’t imagine what it’ll feel when I’m fucking her.”

“I’ll have to be careful,” Hongjoong said, “Otherwise I’m afraid I’ll finish too quickly. It’s been way too long since I had anything good in my bed.”

“I want to feel it too,” pouted San, who took a few licks to your clit before sucking up the juices flooding it. When one of them removed his finger, San replaced it immediately. He hummed his delight at the walls squeezing both his and his brother’s fingers. “How can human pussy be better than demon pussy?” he giggled, “I don’t get it.”

“Have no idea,” Hongjoong shrugged, content watching his brothers finger you together. “I don’t really care either. We have a dumb little toy that we can build however we like.” His brothers broke away as he began kissing from the middle up to your breasts. Cupping them, he gave hard squeezes that made you wriggle in his grasp. “I can make her into whatever I want her to be.” He kissed up your neck to your ear, biting it tenderly. “You’re going to be the obedient, compliant submissive I’ve always wanted.” You moaned when his cock slid up between your folds, rubbing directly on your clit. He giggled at your hips bucking against him, and held them down. You tried moving into him, but his firm grip kept you against the bed. “The pretty bitch that fucks like she’s in constant heat,” he traced your jaw with his fingers, letting his dick settle right over your pussy but not moving. “The perfect slave. My slave.”

“How crass,” scoffed Seonghwa, who shoved his brother off you and took his place. Unlike Hongjoong, Seonghwa gradually grinded into you. Pushing stray hairs from your face, he said, “I prefer a pretty toy over a slave,” he said, cupping your jaw and kissing you deeply. The mixture of your fluids filled your mouth when his tongue rolled around yours. His full lips worked yours open slowly, his tongue sliding over yours before beginning to roll around. “When I’m done with you, you’ll be a lovely doll that sings and plays music and reads to me. You’ll be the picture of innocence in front of others,” he pecked your lips as he kept grinding, “A virginal angel who is deflowered by me every night.”

When he lifted you further up on the bed, as expected, San slid right between you and Seonghwa. “That’s dumb,” he said, feeling up your body to your chest. Sucking on one nipple, he allowed you to grind into him. “Everyone knows what you are,” he changed sides, and rolled his tongue around it. “I can’t marry you, but I can certainly enjoy the benefits of pretending.” He sealed his lips over yours, and you easily opened your mouth to let him explore. “A lovely wife who cooks and cleans for me…Who does whatever she can to please me…make sure I’m content and comfortable. Isn’t that what every man wants? Why can’t I want it?”

“Because you have servants who do all that already,” snorted Seonghwa from beside you.

You turned over to see him and Hongjoong locked in a passionate embrace. Seonghwa watched both you and San through heavy lidded eyes. Hongjoong turned his head from you to kiss him passionately, both of them moaning in each other’s mouths. Something about the sight aroused you more. You gazed down to where they met to see their hands wrapped around one another. Clear droplets fell from the slits to their shafts, where each brother used it to slicken their movements. You kept watching them kiss and touch before something thick pushed inside you slowly.

“Oh fuck…” San breathed, eyes falling shut and head going forward as he carefully filled you.

Being stretched around him distracted you from anything else in the room. You grabbed San’s biceps, nails digging into the hard muscles as the pressure intensified. Once he became fully sheathed inside you, you swore you felt his tip bulge your belly slightly. It was a feeling you could never get enough of. Even with other customers, if they could reach that far into you, you became absolutely weak. Holding you close, he kissed you as he gently fucked into you.

“Perfect,” he moaned against your lips, “Perfect. My little wife is taking my dick so well, and loving it so much. Here,” he took your hand to place on your belly, “Feel that? That’s me, pet. That’s me fucking you so deep you feel it here.” He kept your hand there as he took several long strokes. He grinned when he saw your eyes rolling back. “You’re loving this, huh?” he started going a bit faster, moaning as you tightened around him, “Loving my fat cock ripping you open, hm?”

“Ye-y-yes,” you whimpered, clutching his shoulders and trying to keep still for him.

“It must be the best thing about being a demon slave,” he groaned, “Getting to have demon dick every moment of the day. Let’s see exactly how well you can take this one.”

Kneeling up, he pinned you by the waist, pulling your legs over his thighs as he quickened his pace. Balls slapping against your ass joined your combined moans. He made stars form in front of your eyes; every stroke pushed against your g-spot over and over again, turning you into a moaning mess on the bed. At some point, San began pulling you onto him and he laughed when you began doing it for him.

“You really love it,” he teased, “Look at her.”

“She’s beautiful like this,” said Seonghwa, lazily starting to rub your clit. You noticed his open mouth letting out soft panting, and spotted Hongjoong’s head between his thighs. The red head teasingly swatted his tongue over the slit and underside of the tip, giving it a suck every few licks. “I have a suspicion our pet is a lot naughtier than we first thought. She must have been.”

“Only the filthiest humans are made sex slaves,” San noted, propping himself on his fists and curling you upwards in the process. “You must’ve…must’ve been a whore…a filthy, naughty, slutty whore…”

The degradation. The lack of acknowledgement as they fucked you added to your need for release. You’d always loved being used by your lovers; you loved giving yourself over and letting them do what they wanted. Having these three demons using you and each other was a dream come true. San’s thrusts knocked the headboard into the wall, his groans turning into feral grunts and his strokes becoming feverish. His orgasm came hard, and the hot sensation of his cum painting your walls made you join him. Your body became sensitive to Seonghwa’s hand teasing your clit even as you came; each brush and swirl had you bucking against the sensitivity. When you usually come down from the high quickly, your body starts wearing down, yet that didn’t happen this time. Not with real incubi, and not an average demon. Your orgasm ending, you only wanted more of them.

“My turn,” said Seonghwa.

Hongjoong left his thighs to join San’s side of the bed, the pair sharing soft kisses. He rested himself against the broad man, legs spread for you to see him completely. His cock fully erect, throbbing against his stomach, Hongjoong whimpered when San began stroking him. Both of them looked at you and Seonghwa now, an audience for what you were about to do.

“Get on top, pretty,” Seonghwa said, bringing you on top of him. He didn’t hesitate to impale you on his dick, having the same burning effect as San. “Oh yes,” he panted, head tilting into the soft pillow. “San wasn’t lying.”

You didn’t care when they laughed at you pathetically bouncing on him. Hands on his chest, you raised and lowered your ass onto him in an inconsistent flow. He felt just as good as San, his cock reaching up to your core far too easily. You whined when a hand sharply swatted your ass. You didn’t care whose hand it was; you only cared that the sting added to your pleasure. When he heard you squeal particularly loud, Seonghwa smacked your ass again.

“Desperate cock-whore,” Seonghwa moaned, bringing you forward to keep spanking you. “We’re going to fuck you dumb,” he growled in your ear, “You won’t even remember your own name when we’re done with you.”

The idea of that alone had you rutting against him pathetically. Seonghwa eventually let you kneel back up, and slightly away from him. Hands holding you up behind your back, this position gave all three demons a view of him inside you. Their eyes locked right on where you and Seonghwa met, and when he began pushing up into you, the other two jeered.

“Ride him, slut. Ride him the right way.”

“Don’t be shy. Take him all the way.”

“You’re really a cock-loving whore, aren’t you?” Hongjoong asked in a breath, being teased by San in gradual strokes. “Answer me, slut. Are you a cock-loving whore?”

“Ye-Ye-Yess,” you cried, feeling a second orgasm building in your lower belly.

“Say it. Say ‘Yes, Master. I’m a cock-loving whore’.”

“Yes, Ma-M-Master,” you sobbed, “I’m a cock-cock-lov-loving whore!”

“Keep saying it,” Seonghwa said, pushing his hips upwards, “Say it.”

You did as told, saying the humiliating words as Seonghwa brought you to your second orgasm. It hit you much harder, stiffening your muscles and arching your spine backwards. His deep strokes emphasized each pathetic cry; your tits and ass bounced from the force of his thrusts which delighted the three demons. Having them sitting there, laughing and calling you names sunk you deeper into your arousal. You came even harder when you felt Seonghwa’s hot cum filling you soon enough. Seonghwa’s jaw clenched and he kept his pace steady as he pumped his seed deep inside you. You wanted more. You needed more. Whatever devious pheromone the incubi released sunk into your nostrils and filled your lungs. It smelled like hard candy, roses and cinnamon, turning from scents into a cocktail drug that fueled your body. You swore you ran on their energy and various scents alone.

“Take it all,” he grunted, grabbing your wrists and holding them in front of you, “Take all my cum.”

You would have stopped for a small break at the brothel. By a second orgasm, your body usually gives up. Yet, the brothers did not let you have a break. The power of an incubus must be stronger than you first assumed. Hongjoong grabbed you by the waist, and bent you over in front of him. Pushing your head down into the bed, he wasted no time in forcing himself inside you. Fingers scratching the smooth covers, face buried in their softness, you nearly screamed at the newest cock. Hongjoong did not reach as far as San, but he made sure you felt every hit each time. The only time he slowed down was when San came up behind him. Buried deep in you, you heard Hongjoong let out a long moan that ended in soft panting. Soon, you realized Hongjoong was sandwiched between your pussy and San’s cock. You matched San’s speed so Hongjoong felt pleasure from both ends. The strong pheromones drove you nearly wild now. You wanted him to cum in you too. Even if they couldn’t breed you, you wished they could.

Seonghwa moved around the bed to the front of you, lifted your head and filled your mouth. You greedily sucked up the leftover cum from his dick. His soft rose scent drew you closer to him. You loved the mix of salty and sweetness on your tongue, the remnants flowing from his tip to your throat as you swallowed. Hongjoong twitched inside you, almost creating a vibrating feeling that you’d heard incubi and succubi could do. It had you crying around Seonghwa’s dick; tears streamed from the corners of your eyes as he choked you on it. The combination of fingers rapidly rubbing your pussy, a demon cock shuddering inside you like a vibrator, and knowing San was pounding his demon brother had you trembling in their grasp. When Seonghwa gave you a moment to breathe, drool and cum fell from your lips onto the bed and your eyes remained shut in each euphoric feeling. You focused on nothing but them.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes,” Hongjoong whined, “Fuck me like that. Both of you. Fuck me just like that.”

He hunched over on top of you as he came hard. You and San did as he wished, milking his orgasm from him so he spilled inside you. You soon joined him with a body-shattering third orgasm. Your arms shook, becoming numb and weak from the weakness it brought on. All three of them having had their turn, you assumed it’d be over.

You assumed wrong.

San withdrew from Hongjoong and the latter nearly threw you on top of him. Weakly, you slipped him into your dripping hole and rode him. Hongjoong stood over San’s head, and pushed his cock in your mouth. He hadn’t even gotten soft. You heard from other slaves that incubi could go for hours if they wished. In all realness, that should concern you. Even if you’re technically dead, you could never handle such a lengthy session. Yet, surrounded by these horny incubi, you felt compelled to serve them as they wished. Your jaw burned, and your cheeks felt stiff from the abuse. You knew your throat will be hoarse and painful after tonight. This did not seem to concern any of the demons.

“Stay still for a moment,” Seonghwa said from behind you. “This will only hurt for a little bit.”

San arched your back and spread your ass cheeks apart. A cold, slippery substance fell between them to your hole, which clenched and unclenched to the thick head spreading the lube around.

“Oh-ho,” Hongjoong laughed, “She’s going to love that.”

“What’s the point in three holes if we don’t fill each one?” he asked, pushing the tip inside you.

Your high-pitched moan remained muffled by Hongjoong, though the reaction pleased all three of them. You felt entirely full. Plugged up by each of them, having them move in near unison to keep you still in their grasp, you surrendered over to them completely. Your masters would take you however they wished, and you would not complain. Their cocks felt far too good to refuse. The best ones you’ve ever had in your previous life and in this new hellish one, you drowned yourself in it. Seonghwa grabbed both your tits to keep you in place; San rubbed your clit with his thumb while holding you by your hip; Hongjoong held you by the hair as he pumped in and out of your mouth. You stayed frozen in place as your new owners used you for their pleasure, giving you a bit of it in return.

They all laughed and jeered when you came again. Seonghwa tweaked your nipples when he heard you crying on Hongjoong’s dick; Hongjoong kept himself fully planted in your throat so your moans vibrated around his head. This orgasm made your toes curl, your nails from crescent shapes in your palms, and your muscles shake and burn from constant movement. They didn’t stop. Not for a single second. You became putty by the time they laid you back down. Seonghwa pushed himself inside your ass once more, legs on his chest as he ruthlessly pounded you. San brought your head to the edge of the bed, instantly filling your mouth while Hongjoong lapped and fingered your gushing pussy. You didn’t have much time to enjoy it before San began shuddering, and his cum filled your throat. You struggled to swallow at first, though caught onto it easily until you sucked every thick drop from him.

By the time you laid on your side between Hongjoong and Seonghwa, you lost all sense of time and place. You felt nothing but the constant flow of bliss coursing through your veins.

“What’s your name, pretty?” Seonghwa asked, the taunt in his tone.

You gave an incoherent mumble, eyes shut and body made of jelly by now.

“What was that?” Hongjoong joined in, “We can’t hear you.”

You mumbled again, head lolling as you felt San hover over you. “Come on now,” he said, teasing your clit in slow circles, “You must have a name.”

“If you don’t tell us, we’ll give you one instead,” Seonghwa panted, moving away enough to let San’s hand tease you. “Use your words, kitten.”

“”My Pet’ is a nice name in my opinion,” Hongjoong said, gripping your hip as he bottomed up into you.

“Darling is prettiest,” San said, “Much more endearing.”

“Kitten,” Seonghwa proclaimed, “Kitten is much sweeter. It suits her.”

There they named you. You are their property now, and you had no say. Eventually, the three of them finished and collapsed onto the bed together with you in the middle. The softness of the bed became particularly noticeable once you melted into it. The scent of sweat and sex filled your nose, and a distinct chill fell over your naked body. Your eyes falling shut, you relished in the gentle hands and lips on various parts of you. Their comforting touches lulled you to sleep, you barely listening to their sweet whispers. Whether they spoke to one another or to you, you weren't sure.

You only enjoyed the sweet peace sleep gave you.

***

A/N: just a short horny fic for all of you! I might make it a series, I might not. I have a habit of making these things lol please like and reblog <3

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #choi san #hongjoong ateez #seonghwa ateez #san ateez #demon line ateez #demon line x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #san x reader #hongjoong x seonghwa x san #ateez smut

175 notes · View notes

stevenose · 9 months

Text

☾₊ ⊹ reaching for the moon (18+)

pairing: steve x fem!reader with afab anatomy

contains: smut and a dumb amount of world building that was not necessary for this. set in 30s nyc, no hawkins. old money!steve; husband!steve; art historian!steve; not rich whatsoever!reader; they’re married your honor; steve’s parents (they’re the worst <3); slut shaming; allusions to bisexual steve; brief homophobia; soft!steve!!! he’s so damn soft!!!!; period typical everything lol

you might want to know: steve smokes and reader takes a drag; heated arguments which lead to some implied homophobia; reader wears an evening gown with a corset; car sex (info on said car here, for clarity sake)

author’s note: this is very heavily inspired by titanic 1997 (obviously) because it’s been rotting my brain. it’s very self indulgent but i’m hoping others like it!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

It’s always the same. A party, an invitation in the mail, embossed with gold foil. Steve fuming because they could have walked over instead of paying for postage, or called him on the telephone. Each time both of you thinking it’ll be different, each time leaving with Steve’s wounded ego or anger levels at an all time high. You don’t know why you torture yourselves other than the fact that his mother will make a tremendous deal out of it when you don’t show up. She’s not above telling guests gossip of your marriage when you’re not around, just so it can get back to you and hurt you again.

Your issue lies with both of them. Steve’s issue lies with his father. Old, rich, stupid. Too well-known for being a lawyer for companies that should be shuttered and closed for violations and accidents. A union buster. And Steve’s biggest critic.

He never wants to hear about Steve’s studies or projects. His mind appears to me hyper-focused on Steve’s shortfalls - no military experience, no investments, married to a poor girl he met at a bar in Manhattan. Steve is everything his father detests, and vice verse.

To his credit, Steve tries, even when he doesn’t want to. He talks to his mother first while she stares at you like you’re venomous. She’s good at reeling in her disappointment. Steve’s her only child and you figure she doesn’t want to lose that. His father, on the other hand, is closer to Steve’s cousins - successors of big oil, engineers, military men.

You smile at her while Steve tells her about his recent trip to Florence, about the chapels and art. You’re wearing her diamonds around her neck. You know she wants to strike them from you. You’d say you clean up well, wearing one of the tens of dresses Steve’s purchased for you, custom made and tailored. Satin and lace and silk, only the finest. His mother thinks she can still smell alcohol and cigarette smoke on you. She detests your miserable background, how unladylike and uneducated you are, that you’ve worked where women shouldn’t and have done things she’d consider unforgivable sin.

“They’d mix pigments with egg -“

“Egg?”

“Right, yes, they called it tempura. And the pigments - Jesus, should’ve been there to see Giotto’s blue, so rich and -“

“Are you talking about those paintings again?”

Steve tenses and turns to face his father. Your face falls slightly.

“I am.”

“How much was that trip, anyway?” his father presses. He gives you a wink as if you’re in on the joke. “Certainly more than your engagement ring?”

You clench your fist within its satin glove. The gold, Art Deco band digs into your ring finger. Steve’s jaw tenses.

“Not a penny more,” he says cooly. He adjusts his suit coat. His adams apple bobs under the stark white collar of his shirt. “Not that it’d matter, right?”

And Steve’s now doing your favorite thing, where he’ll pretend he actually agrees with his parent’s ridiculous world views until they pick up on the sarcasm. Your eyes meet and the corner of your mouth lifts slightly, but you’re back to being stone faced a moment later.

“Of course not!” his father bellows, hitting Steve on the shoulder like he’s a long time friend and not his son. He looks at you now. For reasons unexplained, his father likes you. Probably for some perverted reason, you figure. “And how’d you fare without him at home?”

“Probably enjoyed company downtown,” his mother says.

“I did.” You look at Steve again, speaking to him with a language only you two understand. It’s okay. “Don’t worry. I hardly had ten glasses of beer.”

His father laughs loudly again, making guests crane their necks to look. His mother narrows her eyes at you but smiles curtly.

“How wonderful.”

“And you’re all right with him going off overseas?” his father presses. “To go look at crumbling paintings and enjoy boat rides in that dirty canal?”

“Not any dirtier than the city, I’m sure,” you say, now taking Steve’s arm in yours. His jaw is set. “Besides, I like hearing about what he’s seen.”

“Pity he couldn’t take you with him,” his father continues. “Surely there’s a reason for that?”

You tighten your grip on Steve to remind him to not talk. “I’d be too distracting, don’t you think?”

“Certainly,” his mother says.

“Not as distracting as your friends’ headlines, though,” Steve says suddenly. “I heard about your latest union bust. How many fatalities did the factory have? Ten? How noble of you to save them from equity.”

You bite your cheek and squeeze his arm again. His father’s mouth twists like he’s tasted something sour.

“Steven,” his mother lulls, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. It’s the only thing you both have in common, trying to keep him cool and calm. It never works.

“And who’d you hear it from if not me?” His father’s tone has shifted. It feels suffocating in the small circle you stand in. “Oh, those dirty men you fraternize with.”

His father’s preoccupation with dirty things is ironic.

“Did they accompany you to Italy as well?” He looks at you now, eyes boring into yours. “Did you happen to see the Statue of David? I heard Michelangelo had an interest in the bodies of men.”

You can feel the heat radiating off of Steve, the implication making him see red.

“Ah, of course, yet another thing you’d rather refuse to understand than empathize with.”

“We should -“

“I’d love to talk to you about sexuality, actually, father. How many half-brothers do I have again?”

His mother looks like she might faint, but his father smirks. It’s as if he lives for arguments with his son. Loves seeing how far he can push him, for no other reason but to be a bastard. It might be the only time he’s ever fond of Steve.

“We’ll get going,” you say weakly, tugging Steve along, and he’s happy as long as he has the last word. “Always a pleasure.”

“You’d know much about pleasure and vices, wouldn’t you?”

It’s the first time John Harrington has ever made a verbal slight towards you. You pause, just barely, and continue moving, but Steve whips around, eyes wild. “I’m sorry?”

His voice is rigid and loud. Guests crane their necks again but this time, they keep staring. You and his mother both grit out “Steve,” but he strides towards his father. You fear he might actually strike him, so you lunge forward, putting your arm between them.

“Surely something we have in common, then, Mr. Harrington.” You glance up at Steve, his jaw clenching and unclenching, face red. “Good night.”

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

It’s cool outside. There are people on leisurely walks despite it nearly being so late. Steve’s still fuming beside you, toned arms flexing underneath his suit coat. He’s mumbling under his breath, then quickly whips around, heading back towards the door.

“I’m gonna-“

“Please,” you beg, grabbing onto his forearm. “Let’s leave it.”

“How?” he huffs. “How can I leave it? He was - he was - awful to you!”

“And he’s awful to you, too. What else is new?” You tug him, beckoning him with pleading eyes. “Follow me.”

He rolls his shoulders and tilts his head as he looks at you. He’s still fuming, nostrils flaring slightly, but all it takes is another little please? and he’s sighing, pulling out his cigarettes and a lighter as he follows you.

"The garage?” he asks, the white building coming into view. A billowing cloud of smoke follows. “What on earth do you want in there?”

You rip your gloves off and flex your fingers. “Indulge me.” You bump his hip with yours, trying to get him to smile.

Steve chuckles, easing up slightly, flicking the ash of his cigarette. "I don't know if committing vandalism is going to make me feel better this time."

“We aren’t vandalizing anything,” you promise. You reach for his hand and take a deep inhale of his tobacco. A needed stress reliever.

Steve seems a bit more giddy as you approach his father’s security detail. Steve’s known him since he was a boy. All he has to do is give a salute and a smile and you’re inside of the garage, door locked behind you, alone now with at least a dozen collectible cars and carriages.

"What do you have in mind, then?” he asks, leaning against the door. “Maybe we can use your heels to carve out some paint."

You step forward, taking the cigarette and throwing it on the ground before stomping it out with your shoe. You lean against him, hands pressed against his chest as you straighten his shirt. You’re looking at his neck as you speak. “Your father seems to think I’m somewhat of a whore.”

You don’t mean for him to get mad again, though it’s delicious when he is. “My father doesn’t have a clue -“

You interrupt, “So I reckon we make me one.”

His eyes widen, cheeks blooming red. "Oh?"

"Mmhm," you hum, and press your lips to his. He grabs you around the waist, fingers digging into your flesh, hidden by the satin and lace of your dress. Your lipstick smears as you move to the corner of his lips, then the stubble on his jaw, then up to the shell of his ear. "Pick a car and take me in it.”

“You - hold on,” he forces out, grip tight on you. “You aren’t a - a whore.” He says it like it’s scandalous, the worst word that could be uttered from his lips. It’s been thrown at him before, too. “You know that, right?”

You look up at him through your lashes. You can feel him starting to harden against your thigh. “Would it be such a bad thing if I was your whore?”

He swallows hard. “Do- do you want to be?”

You smile. “Pick a car before someone finds us.”

"Um." Steve forces his eyes open to look around. You begin unbuttoning his shirt while sucking a bruise into the delicate skin by his throat. He swallows hard. "Uh, the - the Renault.”

Your lips leave his neck so you can follow his gaze. You don’t know much about his father’s insane car collection, but you’ve always liked this one. Powder blue, gold accents. It’s like an upgraded horse and buggy, a large, enclosed carriage in the back with a bench for a driver at the front. It’s not very old, maybe twenty years, but it’s valuable and big and shiny and something his father prizes more than anything, including his own son.

“Plenty of leg room,” he explains sheepishly, and you smile, pulling him towards it. “Now, wait - wait - what’s the plan here?”

He’s so dense sometimes, but it’s because he wakes up everyday in disbelief that you’re laying next to him. The idea of undressing you and touching you seems so far fetched that many times he’s had to stop and think about it before engaging.

“The plan,” you say, swinging the door open and shoving him inside playfully, “is for you to have your way with me. And quickly, darling, we don’t have much time.”

Steve half-sits, half-lays down on the large bench, watching you as you duck inside and shut the door. He watches you with wide, adoring eyes as you climb on top of him, taking his hand gently. You pull it to your lips, kissing the pads of his fingers while he watches you intensely. When you look up at him, your stomach flips.

“My way with you,” he says evenly, “is to treat you like the angel you are.”

You smile and lay his hand gently on your chest. “Show me.”

His lips connect with yours softly. Despite the rush you’re both in, he still wants - needs - to take his time with you. He hikes your dress up as he kisses you, big hands caressing your thighs and ass. He sighs happily, pushing you down enough that you catch on the front of his dress pants, his cock pressing against your core. You gasp and giggle. “Excited?”

“As ever,” he promises.

You hold yourself up with a hand while the other struggles with the belt and buttons of his pants. He kisses down your neck, hot, open-mouthed. He latches on to a certain spot and you moan, breathing heavily into his hair.

“Need some help?” he murmurs, noticing your pause.

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes closing as he continues kissing along your exposed collarbone. You should be careful with your dress, taking it off and hanging it up, but Steve will just buy you another one. And another one. And another one. Anything your heart desires. Rich silk from Egypt, lace from Italy, hand embroidered and luscious against your skin. His life’s purpose seems to spoil you, as intended right now.

Steve finally frees himself, but you don’t have any time to stare. He’s quick to change places with you, laying you down on your back, pushing your dress and underskirt up. The material and color on your skin make him blush and growl lowly. The sliver of your corset that’s showing has him growing hard, too. They’re not always so comfortable for you, so you tend to wear them only on special occasions. And he’s keen on devouring you in only it after.

Neither of you are really expecting him to dive head-first between your legs, but you would never complain. His wet, warm tongue laves up your folds a few times before finally plunging in between them. You gasp and grab onto the seat, knuckles growing white. “Steve!” you cry, a hand curling into his hair, tugging on it.

“Worship you,” he mumbles into your skin, before forcing himself to pull back, chin slick. “I worship you.”

Your heart pounds. You’re at a loss. So lucky that you cannot possibly verbalize it.

Steve leans right back in, taking his sweet, non-existent time. “I- I hate to re-remind you, sweetheart,” you moan, fingers curling again, “but a-anyone could h-have! Have seen us com-coming in here.”

He hums, your back arching. He’s reluctant to pull away, but he finally does, coming back up to perch a knee on the seat below you. He’s quick to roll his sleeves up, muscled and toned forearms on view. Then he rubs his cock along your folds, both of you moaning. You tug at his shirt, now not so pristine, pulling him down to face you.

“Isn’t the idea to ruin the car?” he asks, smiling a little smug.

“Yes?”

“Then I’ve got to make a proper mess of you, don’t I?”

You burn. “You already have me melting.”

“Hmm. Let’s see what else I can do.”

When he pushes into you, it’s like the world stops. The only thing that matters is him above you. His hair tickling your forehead, eyes hazy and hooded, lip caught between his teeth. “Honey,” he groans, pulling a leg up over his hips to open you up, give him more access. His fingers dig into the fat of your thigh and he shivers at it. He always makes love like it’s the first time you’ve been together. Even during this quick romp, he’s taking his time, hearts in his eyes. “You’re incredible.”

“I love you,” you whisper, pressing your forehead to his. He slides in a little further. You wince and he kisses you gently, fingers moving towards your clit to take your mind off of it.

“I love you,” he mumbles. “So. God. Damn. Much.”

He’s sheathed fully in you now, both of you panting, sweating. The car’s windows are fogged. You can’t keep your lips off of each other as he sets his pace, languid and long, filling you up so completely it numbs your mind. Each thrust makes you gasp. His whines are low, but slowly become more high-pitched as he thrusts into you.

“Give yourself to me,” you whisper. “All of you.”

He would never deny you that.

Hips picking up, his thrusts get harsher. He’s chasing your high and his. Chasing away the thoughts of his father and his mother, of work, of anything except you. You, his angel, his promise that not all things in the world are so bad. Not when you’re with him. And certainly not when you’re writhing under him, your dress pulled taught over your tits, your lipstick smudged, mascara running.

Over and over and over, the thinks, The Divine is real. The Divine is real.

Your eyes catch as he’s pulled away to look at you. He’s soft, despite his thrusts. “I love you,” he groans. “God, I love you.”

“I love you,” you whisper, reaching for his face, cradling it. “My world.”

“My muse,” he moans, twitching within you, handsome face twisted in pleasure. His fingers work steadily on your clit and you reach up for your breasts, wishing desperately that you were wearing a nightgown instead. One that Steve likes, all pastel pink and blue, a ribbon of purple silk on the waist. It’s much less restricting and much more revealing. We can always continue at home, you think, your stomach tightening.

“You are….” you pant, eyes rolling back, leg tightening around his hips. “You are more th-than enough.”

His trusts slow. “As are you.”

“Sweet boy,” you laugh breathlessly, rolling your hips towards him. “Please keep going.”

“Oh!” he says, genuinely shocked, like he was truly so lost in your words that he forgot what he was doing. “S-sorry.”

“Just wa-want to show you how much I - how much I love you.”

“You show me,” he promises. “E-every. Day. And - and at these stupid p… oh, Christ - these parties.” His hips angle up towards your sweet spot and you’re gone, unable to hold back, brows marrying and face tightening in a lewd show of pleasure.

“Steve!” you moan, so loud you’re sure anyone walking by could hear. His hips move furiously and you have to reach up with your hand to steady yourself, making a handprint on the window. “Oh, my God!”

“Now it’s time to show you,” he groans, and his lips are back on yours. Half to consume you, overwhelmed with love and lust, and half to keep you quiet. You all but scream into his mouth, hand sliding off the window to clutch his shoulders while he works you into oblivion. “Close,” he chokes, a hand once again cradling your cheek. “With me now.”

You pant into each other as you cum, the car filled with sex and sweat and your crass noises. So unladylike, so perverse. You giggle mid-orgasm at the thought of his mother walking in on such a thing. A son raised as a level below royalty fucking his street-rat wife into a stupor, all in a thousand dollar car, would make her heart stop.

“What’s - so - funny?” Steve pants eventually, resting his head on your chest, his cock softening inside of you.

“Nothin’,” you promise, combing his hair with your fingers. “I love you.”

“Don’t leave me out,” he smiles.

You shake your head. “Tell you later. We should -“

“Uh-huh,” Steve says, pushing off of you and tucking himself back into his pants.

“You’re trembling,” you frown, reaching for him.

“I’m alright,” he promises, taking your hand and kissing it. “I’m happy.”

“So am I.”

He helps you fix yourself and slips your feet into your shoes for you, a kiss pressed into your knee. It turns into another, then another, and then his lips are creeping up your thigh.

“Stevie,” you whisper, the pet name making him blush. “Let’s finish at home.”

“Home,” he sighs dreamily. “Sounds wonderful.”

You’re proud of the stain left on the leather as you get up, your dress falling back down to your ankles. His father won’t check this car for weeks, if not months. You hope it’s fully ruined by then. But, for good measure, you let your heel scrape the paint on the way out.

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #ns/fw #stevenose posts

505 notes · View notes

jksprincess10 · 9 months

Note

hi! ur writing is so good ily 😻

um so imagine inexperienced!din who comes across an “adult video” where the guy is eating the girl out and din just absolutely fixates on it, he just cannot get the thought of doing the same thing to reader and once he finally does..? he’s insatiable, he just refuses to stop, give you a break or anything.. he can’t help it, is whining and groaning into her and grinding against the bed.. (maybe cums in his pants idk 🤭)

🏃🏾‍♀️

Hi ! Thank you for your request. Hope this is what you had in mind!

Just a little taste. CW: desperate!din, inexperienced!din, brothel, mention of sex work, mando'a language, mention of porn, oral sex (f), fingering, din cums in his pants.

The bounty was a man who would frequent these sinful parts of Cocruscant and you had to play the part. Mando, a client and you… a worker. Your pretty face would make getting information much easier. Mando, on the other hand… would stick out like a sore thumb with his shiny beskar armor.

So, you wore the uniform. It would probably qualify as a dress, although there wasn’t nearly enough fabric to be one. An almost transparent veil covered your breasts, in two crossed lines that went down your back and hid in the “skirt”, also transparent, making the color of your underwear known by everyone.

From that moment on, Din didn’t look at you. Maybe he thought you were ugly? You huffed in frustration and went to interrogate the clients, playing the flirty and innocent girl.

If Din could have looked for the bounty anywhere else, he would’ve. He was thankful for the heavy helmet covering his face, disguising the permanent blush on his cheeks. He sat at the bar, an immobile statue to the rest of the costumers. The bartender asked if he needed anything, he shook his head. For now, he only wanted to look around and keep an attentive ear on what people said.

You, on the other hand… You made it hard for him to concentrate. He saw you going around like a butterfly, like you were in your element. He felt ashamed of the jealousy tying his stomach and… another sentiment. Unfamiliar.

Strong, unknown desire.

He tried to concentrate on anything other than your goddess-like body. But this whole place… reeked of sex and sin. The music in some alien language was sensual and the projected holovids were… literal porn.

He felt the familiar tightness in his pants that happened every time you got too close to him, and he cursed under his breath. A particular holovid held his attention for longer. It depicted a humanoid female getting eaten out by a male. The latter was passionate about it, and he could see the pleasure on her face.

Dank farrik, he wanted to do the same thing to you. Bury his head between your thighs and live there for a little while. He asked for an alcoholic beverage for courage, that he drank in a hidden corner by barely lifting his helmet. He then passed next to you to attract your attention and pointed to one of the closed rooms. You gave him a puzzled look but assumed that he had found some information.

When you entered the room and locked the door behind you, you found Mando sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked so out of place here, way too big for that little space.

“Did you find anything?”

There was a slight tilt of his helmet as he took in your beautiful form.

“No.” The modulated voice responded.

You crossed your arms in frustration.

“Then, why are we here? This man was about to give me everything.”

“It’s… hard to concentrate here, cyar’ika.”

The affectionate name made your cheeks heat up.

“Well, not my fault if you’re a pervert. Let me do my job.” You turned around to open the door, but his broad figure suddenly shadowed yours. A gloved hand stopped yours and he turned you around, crowding you against the door. You looked up at him, confused by his change in demeanor.

“I saw something that I want to do to you. Please.”

You would lie to yourself if you said that you were indifferent to him. Even though you had no idea what he looked like, you had thought about him in that way. And he looked so desperate and adorable right now, how could you say no?

“Okay.” You responded breathlessly.

His hips pressed against yours, making you feel his hard erection.

“Do you trust me, cyar’ika?” He asked as his gloved hand cupped your face.

“Yes. With my life.”

And it was the truth – he had saved you on multiple occasions. You closed your eyes, waiting for him to do something, anything. He took off his gloves and you felt his warm hands undoing the top of your dress. He tied a piece of it around your eyes, bunching the fabric together so it was less see-through. You opened your eyes to see that everything was veiled, you could barely see. Din slid the rest of your dress down. Then, he guided you delicately to the clean bed, where you laid down for him, thighs parted. He could see how damp you were through your panties, where a wet stain had formed.

“You’re so pretty.” He breathed in a not-modulated voice, suddenly. It was very similar, but much warmer.

Oh.

The helmet was off.

You needily cupped his face between your hands, feeling the slight burn of facial hair there, and you brought him closer.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked almost shyly.

As a response, his lips latched onto yours. It was surprisingly soft, the way he kissed you. But still, it made you feel even needier. You bit slightly on his bottom lip, and he opened his mouth for you, letting you slide in your tongue. Din’s moans died in your mouth.

All of a sudden, his lips had left yours, and you felt him delicately tracing down your body. Your back arched a little, inviting him even closer.

His lips found the line of your hip, the start of the fabric covering your core.

“Please.” You begged softly.

And he was eager to indulge you. He slipped your panties down and you kicked them off. His lips slid down your pubic bone.

“Have you ever done that before?” You asked. It wasn’t judgmental. You just wanted to help.

“No.” He responded, almost shamefully.

“Don’t overthink it.”

He nodded and licked a tentative stripe on your slit. You whimpered at the contact, hands grabbing his head, where you found curly hair. Beginning to feel a little more confident, he used the same motion to lick your slit a few times. Then, he used two fingers to open your lips and find your most sensitive spot.

He used the tip of his tongue to touch your clit, just to see your reaction.

“Fuck… Din, lick me there, yes.”

Encouraged by your words, Din circled his tongue around it at a steady rhythm. Your fingers tugged on his curls as you moaned in appreciation.

“Don’t stop… You’re gonna make me cum…” You warned.

And he didn’t. He redoubled his efforts, licking at a face pace, until your legs started to shake from your orgasm. He didn’t stop even then, licking and sucking through your orgasm, while you were very sensitive.

“Oh, stars… Y-You can stop…”

But visibly, he intended to keep going. He sucked softly, while one of his fingers found your entrance. You were so sensitive; you came almost instantly when he curled up his finger. Encouraged by your moans, he devoured you, even though you were begging him to stop, overstimulated. He ate you like he hadn’t had food in days, producing lewd wet sounds with his mouth. He even added another finger, curling them at the same rhythm as the motions of his tongue. The oversensitivity of it all almost hurt, but pleasure was even more overwhelming.

You couldn’t see, but you felt him moving against the mattress, rutting into it like he was imagining himself fucking you, but instead, he fucked you with his fingers and his tongue.

“Din… Wish I could see you…” You whimpered softly.

Mando groaned against your cunt, hips thrusting faster into the mattress. He pulled another orgasm out of you before you held him with your thighs to stop him. He kept fucking into the mattress until he came, staining the inside of his suit.

Out of breath, Din fell heavily beside you and brought you closer. You lifted your chin to find his lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. When you pulled away, you whispered:

“As much as I would like to stay here forever, we have work to do if we want to be paid…”

He groaned in frustration.

“You’re right, mesh’la. Let me clean up and I’ll meet you there…”

#writing requests #din djarin #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #mandalorian #mandalorian smut #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x yn #mandalorian x y/n #din djarin x yn #din djarin x y/n #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #din djarin x reader

677 notes · View notes

forlorn-crows · 2 months

Text

And You Know That It Takes Two

Rating: E for Explicit

Relationship(s): Copia/Dewdrop

Tags: transitional period between era iv and era v, banter, slice of life, first time, first kiss, handjobs. beta'd AND correctly translated italian!

Words: 3731

Summary: “Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?”

When Copia starts rubbing his thumb up and down the inside of his knee, Dew’s brain stops working. His gaze zeros in to the fingers splayed across the side of his thigh, so foreign, so bare, so pink against the black of his casual uniform pants. His mind is full of static and all he can hear is his own blood pumping through his head. But there’s a weird something tugging in his ribcage; something new yet old, unnamed but familiar.

special thanks to @miasmaghoul for beta'ing and @foxybouquet for the italian translations ♡

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

EDIT: now with ART from the fabulous @noahl-art. merci beaucoup, nono!! find his full artwork here

“D’you think Lucifer would want us to have black mass every Saturday?” Dew pokes the wooden arm of Copia’s chair with the toe of his boot. “Shouldn’t we be exercising our sinful wiles instead of listening to you drone on about the Dark One?”

Caro: dear

Stai bene?: (Are) you okay?

Ti piace?: Do you like this?/Does this feel good?

Merdaccia infernale: (roughly) infernal fucking shit. Closest to "unholy shit".

Proprio così: That’s it.

Copia tugs on a scrap of paper trapped beneath the ghoul’s thigh. “You do plenty of that on your off time, my ghoul,” he teases. He looks over his reading glasses, offering a smirk. Dew can hear the unspoken eh? at the end of his sentence, so much so he can’t help rolling his eyes and smirking back.

“How would you know, old man?” Dew fires back, flicking the hem of Copia’s trousers with his tail. He leans in closer. Elbows resting on his slightly spread knees until his face is level with the anti-pope’s. “Listening in on your free time?” The fire ghoul smiles wickedly, giving him an obvious once over. He cocks his head and bites his tongue between his teeth, waiting for an answer.

Copia’s face rosies a bit, but he returns to his chicken scratch. He jots down a few words before he mutters: “I am sure you do not fantasize your Papa spying on you, caro.”

“Maybe I don’t.” A lie. “Anyway, I think Rain’s loud enough to hear across the fuckin’ abbey. Probably have a soundtrack of water ghoul moans to lull you to sleep every other night,” Dew snickers.

Copia just shakes his head with an amused sigh and continues taking notes. Little chunks of writing in the margins of photocopies of Latin texts, scrawling in both Italian and English in a little notebook off to the side. Dew’s struck with just how patient this man is, endlessly so. He can get crabby on tour, just like any of them, restless and tired, but he really is kind to him and his pack.

The fire ghoul hums thoughtfully and returns to his upright position. Leaning back into the circles of bare desk he cleared earlier for his hands. “Do you get tired of putting up with us, Papa?” he asks casually.

“Dewdrop,” Copia says with a measured tone. He puts his pen down, and his glasses too, looking up at his lead guitarist and steepling his fingers. They’re devoid of gloves, Dew notices in passing, his nails neatly trimmed and his skin smooth and humanly wrinkly. “We have been working together for how many years now?”

Dew shrugs. “A few.”

“Si, quite a few, hm?” Copia agrees. He swivels his chair so his body faces Dew more directly and places a gentle hand on his knee. “Why then, my ghoul, would you think I am ‘putting up with you,’ as you put it?”

“Don’t tell me you actually like us,” Dew says sarcastically. But Copia’s hand is warm on his knee, and he’s trying not to focus too much on how he’s looking at him right now, all soft eyes and a worried crease in his brow.

“Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?”

He’s quiet for so long that Copia clears his throat and gives his knee a polite pat before taking his hand away. He makes to go back to his notes, but Dew mourns the loss of his hand immediately. His pen barely touches the pages before the fire ghoul sobers up and inhales sharply.

“Uh,” he blurts out stupidly, shaking his head and squinting his eyes at Copia. Unsure what to say but determined to say something. “You mean that?” Immediately he wants to crawl back into himself—back into the Pit, even—for sounding so small. Vulnerable.

“Yes, I do,” Copia says quietly, genuinely. He taps his pen against the paper, little dots of black littering the line beneath his skip this? note. Instead of resuming his annotations, he sets the pen down once more, looking up at the ghoul perched atop his desk. His white eye is suddenly piercing in the lamplight, and he’s looking at him like he can see more than just the ghoul sitting in front of him.

“Well, I guess we’re . . . fond of you too, or whatever you wanna call it,” he mocks, aiming for levity. Dew’s tail flicks, ruffling the hem of Copia’s pants again.

Copia chuckles. “Well, that is good then,” he smiles.

Dew hums. Offers a one-sided smile in return. Easy. He could leave it at that; resume the relaxed banter about sermons and his new duties as Papa while Copia gets increasingly tired and/or annoyed and shoos him away with a chocolate truffle in hand (the ones he keeps stashed in his desk drawer for evenings like this).

He could. But in the same moment, he decides he’s tired of tip-toeing around the idea of what this man is to him. He wades out into the waters, throwing a line.

“Is that . . . the only thing you feel for us?” he says at length, quieter. He scoots his thigh closer to the anti-pope’s hand. Encouraging him to touch again, if he wants. The sudden heat in his belly hoping he does. He wades a little deeper. “For me?”

Now it’s Copia’s turn to falter, fingers twitching at the fabric of Dew’s trousers. He looks down at Dew’s thigh, then back up to his face. Searching his copper eyes for something, anything, his thoughts as loud as if Dew were a quintessence ghoul.

“I . . .” he trails off, a failed start. He clears his throat. “I am, as they say, only human. So there are, perhaps, other . . . things. Si.”

Dew grabs his hand gently, placing it just above where it was moments ago, confidence building. “Fantasies, maybe?”

“Dewdrop—”

“For how bold you are on stage, you sure are fuckin’ shy in private, Papa.”

Copia huffs a laugh, moving his hand tentatively along Dew’s thigh. “Eh . . . reserved, maybe. But I don’t know about shy, my ghoul.” He shuffles his chair so he’s situated back between the fire ghoul’s dangling legs.

Dew smirks. “See? Can call me motherfucker in front of thousands of screaming girls, but it’s my ghoul in here.”

“Ah, but that is the difference. They do not get the privilege of seeing you offstage.” A beat. “Though, I imagine they would do a lot of things for that privilege,” he mutters.

Dew bites his tongue in asserting that he is, in fact, a motherfucker offstage too. Instead, he tilts his head so his ashy hair cascades over his shoulder and spreads his legs further, hooking a foot in the arm of Copia’s chair and tugging it closer. He’s baring all of himself now, literally and figuratively. Potentially risking his position, too, if this goes south.

But by the look on the anti-pope’s face, they’re both too deep to swim back now.

“And what’re you gonna do with that privilege, Papa?”

“You’re asking?” he deflects, putting the other hand on the opposite thigh.

“If you don’t touch me in the next five seconds, old man, I swear to Satan—”

“Like this?” Copia smooths his hand up the inside of Dew’s thigh, running along the seam of his pants until he reaches where the ghoul’s started to chub up. His breath hitches, head tilting back.

“Yeah,” he breathes. He looks back down at his hand, tucking chin to chest as he watches those fingers press just so, right where the tip of his dick sits already sticky in his boxers. He bites his lip with a stifled noise.

“Long time we’ve danced around each other, I think,” Copia says. Dew just nods, flexing his hips into his fingers to get more friction. Copia presses more firmly, taking the hint. Drawing a firm line down the ridge of his clothed shaft.

“Humans and ghouls, well . . .” he trails off, looking up at Dew.

“You’ve thought about it,” he replies simply.

“Of course. Of course I have, caro. I–” he laughs, shakes his head in disbelief. “I mean, look at you.” He stops himself, color rising to his cheeks. He drops his gaze, focusing back on the hand on Dew’s fly.

The fire ghoul watches him trace a finger around the button before reaching down himself, popping it open. “What about me?” he asks softly, inviting. Shifting his hips again to encourage him to continue.

“Not just fishing for compliments, I hope,” Copia teases lightly, a little bit of that stage persona shining through as he drags the zipper down.

“That’s not what—hh-oh.” He cuts himself off with a stuttered breath of a moan, Copia’s hand having reached past his fly and into his pants to pet at the dot of wetness sticking his boxers to his tip. The look of pure curiosity—wonder, really—on the man’s face as he feels him up has his stomach flipping. “Fuck, keep doing that.”

“You tell me what you like, my ghoul, and I will do it,” he whispers.

Dew groans as another bead of precum blurts out into his boxers, wet at just his words. “Keep teasing it,” he breathes. “Shit, see how wet you can get it.” He twitches under Copia’s fingers as he wraps his hand around his clothed cock, thumb swiping back and forth over the head. Firm, but just light enough that it makes Dew keen for more.

Copia continues the little motions, over and over until Dew’s underwear clings to him, saturated with pre. The friction of it and the intensity of Copia’s gaze on him has him dizzy, wanting. The man’s thumb presses over his slit, and he can’t help his eyes rolling back, thighs twitching towards each other.

“F-fuck,” he stutters.

Copia rubs his other hand over Dew’s thigh, soothing. “Stai bene? Good?”

The fire ghoul nods, hair falling off his shoulders to frame his face. “More than,” he groans. He bites his lip, bucking into Copia’s hand. “Again—do it agai—yes, Satanas, yes.”

The anti-pope presses into his slit again, this time dragging the pad of his thumb along the ridge with even pressure. Humming as he works it back and forth. It’s so sensitive, so instantly overwhelming that Dew has to consciously restrain himself from gouging his claws into the wood. He lets his head drop back, facing the ceiling and biting his lip to stave off the rush of arousal that threatens to make him spill in his pants.

Below him, Copia sighs. “Beautiful, caro,” he comments.

Dew half-snorts, half-groans, bringing his chin back down to his chest. “You flatter me,” he says with an eye roll.

“They say it gets one everywhere, no?”

“If by ‘everywhere’ you mean ‘in my pants’.”

“If that is where you want me.”

Dew sucks his teeth, scoffs a little in disbelief. Eyebrows twitching upwards when Copia fingers the elastic of his boxers, blunt nails scratching at the peach fuzz on his stomach. He can’t get a grasp on the anti-pope’s tone, switching so fast between charming and soft it makes his head spin. He’s seen both moods separately, of course, fired back his own quips with a silver tongue or begrudgingly accepted praise and a head pat for a productive rehearsal. But having a cocktail of both leaves him with mental whiplash.

The hand making his dick wet probably isn’t helping in that department.

So he nods instead, helping the man shimmy down the waistband of his boxers to snuggle it under his balls, freeing his aching length. Dew hisses at the cool air of the room breezing over the slick-coated head—though, it’s replaced with a puff of hot air when Copia breathes:

“May I?”

Dew nods again, widening his eyes and raising his eyebrows as a silent duh. Copia chuckles at that, scooting a little closer. He smooths his other hand up the fire ghoul’s thigh, up, up, up until he stops at his hip and rests his palm there, forearm dropping to sit on top of his leg. Dew’s stuck watching its ascent and misses the moment the anti-pope reaches for him, wrapping his fingers gently around the base of his cock and stroking upwards.

“Lucifer,” he chokes out. He snaps his gaze to where their skin meets and watches his dick kick hard in Copia’s fist, more precum welling up in the slit.

“Ti piace?” Copia continues to stroke slowly, not immediately translating as earlier. His accent curls around Dew’s eardrums, the Italian twisting with foreignness and short-circuiting his language synapses. He shakes his head, begging the small box of Italian in his brain labeled ‘Papa’s Nonsense Words’ to make sense of the phrase.

He blinks at Copia’s expectant gaze. “Huh?” he asks eloquently, forcing the word through an embarrassing moan.

“Does this feel good?” he supplies, nodding toward his hand.

The fire ghoul stares at the man’s hand, now wet with his own slick as it glides up and down. When his brain finally catches up to him, he barks a bewildered laugh. “I’m gonna have to learn more fuckin’ Italian for this,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” Copia laughs too, realizing his little slip-up. Dew’s shoulders shake with his own renewed laughter. Giggles passing between the two as if they were twelve-year-olds who just pulled off a prank on their teacher, not a fifty-something leader of a Satanic church jerking off a near immortal hellbeast turned quasi-human.

But the shared laughter is familiar. Comforting, in a way. Something to dissolve that final layer of caution that sat like oil on water between them.

“You are an endless delight, my ghoul,” Copia sighs, huffing out a last chuckle.

“I’ll give you an endless—uuh-nholy ff–fuck.” Copia runs his thumb over the slit of Dew’s cock, and his sentence is reduced to an eye-rolling moan. He grabs hold of the anti-pope’s forearm that rests on his leg, fingers digging into the muscle as he drools out a fat roll of precum.

Copia hums and smears it around the head, pulling down the foreskin to rub at the sensitive underside. It’s all the courtesy he’s granted before the man goes back to stroking him in earnest, skirting over the head with each downward pass and tightening around the base when he pulls up.

Dew grips his forearm tighter, thighs jumping with each tease of his frenulum. “Faster,” he begs. “And tighter. Fuck, feels s’ good.”

“Merdaccia infernale, are you always so . . .” Copia shakes his head, letting the room fill with the lewd, creamy sounds of Dew’s slick-soaked cock.

“Wet?” Dew supplies as a choked-off noise. “Not al–hah–always. Not since—” his eyes roll back again, too caught in pleasure to be completely coherent. “The–shit–the—” Dew flails his hand in some nonsensical gesture.

“Si, si.” The man understands without further elaboration that he means his elemental transition. That, despite the effective evaporation of his water, the born-again fire ghoul still carries traits from his original alignment—including dribbling pre like a leaky tap.

But Copia knows, doesn’t need him to explain or elaborate. Just tightens his grip and speeds his hand, looking up at Dew with a gaze that cuts him right down to the core. Intense, yet soft and admiring. Desire flickering just behind that.

“Shit,” Dew hisses, letting his eyes close fully. Sinking into it. His hips are moving of their own accord now, little twitches that meet each downstroke, just barely fucking into Copia’s fist. It’s so much better than it has right to be, but Dew doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way Copia’s hand feels on his dick, the way his other hand grips his hip, the way his breathing grows heavier and tickles the fine hairs at the base of his dick, how it chills the wetness at the tip only to be warmed by his fingers within the same second.

“Oh, oh, ohhhh fuck, Papa, fuck.” His pleasure heightens suddenly, the backs of his thighs going pleasantly tingly and his toes curling in his boots. He can feel it starting to build, balls drawing closer to his body with every stroke.

“Close?” Copia whispers, gripping Dew’s hip tighter and shifting in his chair. He grunts a little, no doubt filled out in his slacks too. Dew can’t confirm from this angle, especially not with the way his vision blurs, doubles even. But he has to be, if his wavering voice is anything to go by.

Dew throbs at just the idea of his cock straining against his zipper, balls heavy and squished between his thighs as he watches the fire ghoul come apart. Neglecting it as he showers Dew with undivided attention. He’s assaulted with the mental image of Copia in those tight, white pants from his Cardinal days, absolutely everything on display, and he groans.

He’s shaking now, stomach jumping as his breath starts to quicken. He’s sure his eyes are wild as he looks at the man below him, whining through his teeth as his hand moves faster, faster. Dew watches Copia bite his lip and look down at the movements of his hand, and the sudden fantasy image of that mouth kissing the tip of his cock makes him grip the anti-pope’s forearm until it threatens to bruise, nearly doubling over with the swell of impending orgasm.

Dew needs him. He needs him so badly.

“Gonna cum—fuck, please,” he moans, breath quickening to shortened gasps. “Kiss me—please, m’ gonna—Papa—” Dew grasps at the man’s shirt collar, pulling at it to get him to stand. Dragging him in by the shoulders and kissing him fiercely, whining when Copia groans into his mouth and pumps him even faster. The scent on him is instantly intoxicating; notes of neroli and patchouli, dull wax from the black patches of makeup, the barest hint of incense smoke underneath. All pressed directly into his nostrils where Dew’s nose smushes against his.

“Proprio così,” Copia mumbles, encouraging. His other arm loops around to cradle him between the shoulder blades, hand threading through his hair to grasp and hold as he kisses him deeply. That little bit of tension on Dew’s scalp sends a zing of heat right to his dick, and he’s moaning like a whore as he scrabbles at Copia’s shirt, ready to fall over the edge.

“Fucking. Fu–uhh, uh, uhh—” Dew loses all sense of words as he clings to him, mouth dropping open and tongue drooling over Copia’s lips. He cums hard, spilling over his hand with a shuddering groan, bucking into that wet fist until he’s risking sliding off the edge of the desk. He doesn’t, of course, braced and embraced by Copia’s body as he is.

Dew’s head drops to his shoulder as he rides out the seemingly endless spasms. Far too many for a handy, if he’s being honest. But the anti-pope works him over until he’s milked dry, whispering more words into his hair that he doesn’t understand and rubbing a soothing hand over his back.

“Shit,” he rasps. After a few more moments he peeks down at his lap—lucid enough now to mind his horns—where his black pants are now streaked with white, Copia’s hand resting on his fly also coated in the stuff. He shakes his head softly and laughs.

“Got me good, old man.”

“Dewdrop . . .” His tone is pleading, breathless. Dew lifts his head and the hand on his back migrates to the side of his face, caressing softly. He leans into it as he looks at Copia, his face flushed and a look of pure want and adoration in his eyes. “Please, caro.”

He doesn’t need to ask what he needs, eyes flicking down to the tent in his pants and back up again. Dew nods. Moves the hands around Copia’s neck to the back of his head, pulling him in.

It’s less feverish this time. Softer and slower, but far from chaste. Idly he wonders if any of the others have had him like this: privately in his office, a mere exchange of something fleeting, or hot and heavy in a storage closet after a show, frantic and adrenaline-fueled.

If any of them have, they’ve never told. He’ll go back to the ghoul wing smelling of him, unless he runs straight to the shower. Douse himself in scalding hot water until he can barely smell himself.

But he won’t.

Dew slides into the space in front of Copia, ignoring the mess on his dick as he presses close to the man. Licking into his mouth and sliding their tongues together as Copia’s hands start to roam. The fire ghoul slots a thigh between his legs as his palms reach his waist, pressing against his crotch.

Copia whines in his throat, twisting his fingers into the fabric of Dew’s shirt. He’s hard as steel against his leg, throbbing when Dew presses harder and tugging at him like he could still get closer than he already is.

“Sit down,” Dew rumbles. He breaks the kiss and holds his gaze as he presses on his shoulders, easing him back into the desk chair. Down, down, down until Dew looms over him. He smirks slightly, confidence and ease returning to him as their positions switch. Running his thumb along the painted upper lip then dragging down to the bare one.

Wordlessly, the fire ghoul sinks to his knees. Scoots Copia to the edge of his chair so he can spread his legs. He smooths his palms up his thighs, his infernal heat seeping through the trousers. He watches Copia’s face as he pets at him, cupping and rubbing at his cock through the layers of fabric. The man’s chest heaves. Hands gripping the wooden arms of his chair. Exhaling shakily as Dew traces a claw around the button on his fly.

“Allow me,” Dew purrs.

#the band ghost #fanfic #the band ghost fanfic #ghost fanfic #dewdrop ghoul #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #copia x dewdrop #dewdrop x copia #papa x dewdrop #dewdrop x papa #copia/dewdrop #dewdrop/copia #papa/dewdrop #dewdrop/papa #CORRECTLY translated italian #dews gonna go back to the dorms and theyre gonna smell copia on him and then EVERYONES gonna want him

145 notes · View notes

joyful-enchantress · 1 year

Text

On the Naughty List (18+) | Loki x Fem!Reader

banner created by the amazing @springdandelixn

A/N: Everyone has been so welcoming and kind and encouraging with my first fic that I decided to try my hand at another one! This is also my first try with smut, so apologies if it is awkward at all. I hope you like it! It is another installment in the Winter Warmers Collection curated by @lokisgoodgirl

Genre/Warnings: Smut (18+), soft(ish) Dom!Loki, here be filth, some fluff too, established relationship, language, restraints, spanking, nipple play (clamps), temperature play, edging/orgasm delay, begging, oral f!receiving, choking (if you squint)

Word Count: 4377

"Stop, Loki! Ahhhhh, stop, please!" you shrieked wildly as Loki playfully but mercilessly pelted you with icy snowballs.

You loved seeing him like this, completely lost in a moment of carefree fun. His eyes were alight with that familiar glint of mischief and the midday rays reflecting off the surrounding snow seemed to dance across his porcelain skin. He was beautiful. And he was yours. An arrogant smile slowly melted into his features as he responded to your request for a ceasefire.

"What's the matter, darling? Can't handle everything I have to offer?" he quipped with a wink.

Damn him and his relentless innuendo. A slight blush crept across your cheeks at his words.

"Oh, I know I can handle all of you, Laufeyson. I've done it many times before," you decided to give it right back to him. "What I can't handle is any more snowballs to the face or soaking through my coat. Not all of us have an endless tolerance for cold, you know!"

Given Loki's heritage, he required no protective outerwear during your childish winter antics. Not that you truly minded -- it meant you got to enjoy a better view of those sinful hands of his, the long, elegant fingers flexing dexterously as he packed the glittering snow into nearly perfect spheres. But, perhaps, his affinity for the cold did give him an unfair advantage in this case.

"I can think of several things I could do to warm you right up, love. Things I could do with my fingers..." he twirled his delectable digits seductively and nearly had you drooling. "...or my mouth..." his skillful tongue peered through the curtains that were his luscious lips and slowly swiped along his top lip just before he smirked knowingly and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. "...or my cock."

Had the temperature suddenly risen? Your thighs clenched together involuntarily, your body already yearning for the sweet friction, and the slightest whimper escaped your lips at his salacious words.

He paced towards you, closing the distance until there was none left, and his warm breath was fanning across your neck as he bent to whisper in your ear.

"Although," he continued, "judging by your reaction thus far, I could probably keep you warm with my words alone." His voice seemed to drop an octave, and assumed that familiar huskiness that he reserved only for you in your most private moments with him. "Maybe we should test the theory, hmm? Would you like that, darling?" His tongue darted out to lick the shell of your ear.

"Yes, Loki..." you breathed, your own voice barely above a whisper. "Please, let's be done with our game and go inside. I need you."

"As you wish, my love," he placed a wet kiss along your jawline. "Follow me."

He began the short walk back to the cozy home the two of you shared, his broad back to you. The wet spots he left on your ear and jaw began to sting in the frigid winter air. You absent-mindedly reached up to soothe the ache with your gloved fingertips, and as you turned to admire the way the dark jeans he was wearing hugged his perfect ass as he strode towards the house, the temptation was too great. You simply could not resist.

THWAK!

A perfectly thrown snowball hit him in the back of the head, bursting into a flurry of snow that clung to his ebony curls and drifted down his neck and across his back.

"Oh you're in for it now, pet." He turned around, ever so slowly, his lips upturned into a menacing smile and his emerald eyes burning with the promise of what was to come.

You decided to play right into his hands.

"Have I earned a spot on the naughty list, Sir?"

He gazed back at you with a hungry expression, his pupils dilating with lust; you knew the effect that particular word had on him. He began stalking towards you, like a predator cornering his prey.

"That goes without saying, Y/N. Your misbehavior is simply unacceptable. Now, do you know what happens to naughty girls?"

He was right in front of you once again, towering over you and looking down his nose directly into your eyes.

"They don't get any presents?" you suggest with feigned innocence.

"They must be punished." he declared with such authority, it left no room for argument.

"Oh really? Just what exactly do you -- AHH!"

Before you could even finish your snarky response, he had you draped over his shoulder, your eyes staring at his perfect backside and his strong arm flexed behind your knees, holding you in place. His other hand rose up to give your unsuspecting bottom a warning smack.

"No more questions, darling. You're in enough trouble as it is."

He carried you inside, kicking off his shoes along the way, and before you knew it, he was tossing you on the plush bed like a ragdoll. The deep emerald-colored satin sheets twisted in your fingertips as you stared up, wide-eyed, at your husband; gone from his face was the carefree playfulness and in its place was a stern demeanor. There was no question who was in charge here. And you loved it.

With a snap of his fingers, a blanket of green light engulfed your body and every scrap of clothing you had been wearing disappeared. Loki, still fully clothed, hovered over you, caging you in and bringing his face within inches of yours.

"Now let's go over the rules, shall we?" he trailed, his voice dripping with lust and power, "Rule number one, you will refer to me only as Sir. You will not call me by my name unless and until I command it. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," you gasped, barely audible over the hammering of your own heart.

"Good girl." He reached a hand down and began stroking your breast, eventually rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "Rule number two, you will do as I say, without question or hesitation. I do not like to repeat myself. Am I clear?"

"Crystal, Sir," you barely suppressed a moan.

"And finally, rule number three..." You whimpered as he tweaked your nipple, hard. "...You do not come until I give you my express permission. I decide whether and when you will have your pleasure, isn’t that right, pet?” his lips curved into a wicked grin as he finished reminding you of the last rule.

“O-of course, Sir,” you gulped, anxiously and eagerly awaiting his next move.

"Now, do you remember your safe word, darling?" his eyes momentarily softened as he asked you, ever your loving and devoted husband, making sure you knew you were safe and loved.

"Yes, Sir. Red," you assured him with a breathy whisper.

"Good." The fleeting moment of softness had passed, his expression shifting back to one of unrelenting dominance, emerald eyes alight with thoughts of the diabolical plans he had for you. "Let's begin."

His hand rose from your breast up over your collarbone to its final destination around your neck, giving it a firm squeeze as he captured your lips in a ferocious kiss; it was all tongues and teeth as he invaded your mouth, claiming what was his with urgency. Eventually, he allowed you to catch your breath and he trailed his lips down your jawline, to suck and nip at your pulse point as you lay there panting.

"I want you to kneel on the bed, facing the headboard." he rasped against your ear before rising up off the bed to allow you the room to move into position.

You wasted no time, scrambling up so you could obey him and avoid furthering your punishment. As you were twisting around and adjusting yourself into the perfect submissive kneel, you caught a glimpse of him removing his dark emerald sweater, leaving him in the white button-down he was wearing underneath, those damn dark wash jeans, and his socked feet.

He leisurely strode towards the head of the bed and turned to face you, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and beginning to roll up the sleeves to his elbows. You bit your lip, the sight of his forearms flexing as he manhandled the garment enough to send a fresh pool of arousal to your core.

"Hands in front of you, wrists together," he commanded.

As you did so, he conjured a bit of black silken cord -- enough to bind your wrists together tightly while leaving some extra hanging on either side of the intricate knot. Once he was satisfied that the rope would keep you sufficiently restrained, he turned to reach into the nightstand where you kept your toys for nights such as this. You could hear the familiar metallic clink of chains bumping into each other as he pulled a toy out of the drawer. The clamps.

"We haven't played with these in a while, pet," he said with a devilish snarl. "I want you to feel them sway and tug every time I strike that perfect ass of yours."

You couldn't help the whimper that escaped your lips at his words. "As you wish, Sir."

He worked your nipples into firm peaks before attaching the clamps to them. You hissed as they bit into your sensitive flesh, providing an intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain. Before you could fully adjust to the sensation, he was pulling on the extra cord that was hanging from your bound wrists and tying it to the top of the headboard. This forced you to bend forward, head between your arms, ass raised slightly - and presented perfectly - as you remained on your knees. The chain that connected the clamps swayed with your movement, tugging on your sore nipples with each sweeping arc, causing you to moan wantonly.

"Hmmm,” he hummed in approval as he situated himself beside you on the bed, one hand at the small of your back - a reminder to remain in position - the other rubbing and squeezing your bottom, the gentleness a stark contrast to the harsh stings you knew were to come. “My dirty whore of a wife seems to be enjoying herself, and I’ve barely begun,” he chuckled darkly. “You will count each strike aloud, and when I am finished, you will thank me for them. I think 10 strikes ought to do for tonight, pet. Oh, and do remember, you are not allowed to come.”

“Yes, Sir,” you groaned desperately. Before you knew it, the first strike hit your backside with a loud SMACK. Just as he had planned, the chain between your tortured nipples was swaying wildly. “One,” you squeaked.

His hand came down against your ass again, this time on the opposite cheek.

“Two, Sir.” You let out a shaky breath.

The next slap seemed to echo throughout the room.

“Ahhhh! Three, Sir!”

After the third smack, his hand caressed down your backside and his fingers dipped between your soft folds. “Ohh, love. We’re only three strikes in, and you’re absolutely soaking. Do you think you’ll make it?” he asked with feigned concern. You could do nothing but whimper in response. “Oh how I do love those pretty noises you make,” he crooned.

He resumed his work, each smack to your bottom bringing more pain than the last… and sending more arousal straight to your dripping core. After the seventh strike, he moved the hand that had been resting innocently at the small of your back to the chain that was dangling from your breasts and gave a sharp tug.

“Aaaauunnghhh! Please, Sir,” you moaned. Whether you were begging him to stop or to give you more, you didn’t know.

“Shhhhh, pet. Just three more, you’re doing so well for me.” As he soothed you with his words, he moved his hand from the chain to the apex of your thighs, and his fingers easily found your clit, peeking out from its hood and aching for attention. Your hips moved of their own accord, grinding against his hand, shamelessly searching for more friction. “Ah ah ahh, there will be none of that writhing, darling,” he reprimanded you gently. “You will take what I give you and nothing more.”

“Sorry, Sir, I’ll be still,” you promised with a high pitched whine.

He kept his fingers on your clit, lazily playing with the bundle of nerves as he delivered the last three smacks to your bottom. It was just enough to tease you and keep you wanting more, never enough to fully satisfy you. Your frustration was mounting at this point, but deep down you knew you shouldn’t have been so delusional as to hope he’d allow you your release so easily.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, pet?” he mercifully reminded you as he pulled his hand away from your sensitive bud, rubbing soothing circles on your ass cheeks with the same hand he just used to blister them.

“Oh, yes, of course. Thank you, Sir, for spanking me.” you managed to coerce your tongue into forming the words despite your frazzled brain.

“Such a good girl for me,” he cooed softly and with a snap of his fingers, the bindings disappeared and you collapsed forward onto the bed, limp and spent, but unbearably aroused. He quickly was at your side, and gently helped you to roll over onto your back. Finally, you could see his stunningly beautiful face again. His features had settled back into those of your loving husband, warmth and softness radiating from within. Stroking your cheek gently with his thumb, he bent down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss that sent a fire straight to your core.

Loki diligently massaged your wrists and shoulders, helping to soothe the ache from your restraints; he then moved his attention to your breasts. “I’m going to remove these now, darling. One at a time. I know it will be intense but it will only last for a moment,” he whispered.

You winced and cried out as he removed each clamp, his warm mouth quick to softly caress each aching bud with his tongue and soothe the sting.

“What’s your color, Y/N?” he asked you gently, his gaze meeting yours, eyes swirling with concern and love for you — only you.

“Green, Sir. So Green.”

“Excellent.” His emerald orbs reignited with salacious promises and his lips twisted into a wicked grin. Gone again was the softness he had momentarily uncovered. “Then we’ll move into the next phase of your punishment.”

Bring it on, you thought to yourself, but all you managed outwardly was a cheeky smile.

He must have been losing patience for doing things manually, because with a flick of his wrist and a twirl of his elegant finger, more restraints appeared, securing you to the bed. This time, they were black fur-lined leather cuffs -- one around each wrist and one around each ankle. The leather straps connected to the cuffs ran across the mattress, off the sides, and under the bed, where they were secured. This ensured that you wouldn't be going anywhere, and that your legs were spread nice and wide for him; you couldn’t close them even if you wanted to. You also noted that your arms and shoulders were in a different position, not stretched over your head -- and he kept a small amount of slack so that you could adjust and rotate your shoulders if you needed to, so as not to strain your muscles to the point of pain. Your husband thought of everything.

As he strode once again to the night stand and began looking for the toy he needed for your next wave of delicious torment, you noticed his prominent manhood straining against his tight jeans, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself knowing the effect you had on him. Your smile quickly melted away into a mixture of primal lust and shaky nerves as you saw what he pulled out of the drawer, though. The magic wand and the large glass dildo.

“Now, pet, I’ve got to go downstairs and take care of something,” he began as he set the glass dildo down on the bench at the foot of the bed, within easy reach, and clicked the wand on to the lowest setting. “I shouldn’t be gone for more than ten minutes, but I wouldn’t want you getting bored in my absence, so this should keep you occupied while I’m gone.” He placed the wand firmly against your throbbing clit and you couldn’t suppress the wanton moan that escaped your lips at the feeling. It would never be enough to give you release on this setting, it would only tease you and amplify your arousal, but damn if it didn’t feel so good. A wave of emerald light surrounded the wand, and you immediately knew he had enchanted it so that it would remain in place, no matter how much you bucked and squirmed. There was also no doubt in your mind that it would disappear immediately should you utter your safe word — the restraints, too, probably. You were always safe with him, even if he left you alone in the room to bask in the sweet torture he inflicted on you.

His hungry eyes raked over your naked body — bound and writhing — and his gaze met yours with a sinister smile before he departed the bedroom to head downstairs.

It felt like the longest ten minutes of your life. The wand was unrelenting, keeping you dangling on the edge of release, but never allowing you to fall over into bliss. No matter how you tried to grind your hips to increase the friction just enough to topple you over the edge, it was no use. Loki’s enchantment kept the wand exactly where he wanted it.

So lost were you in the sensation and the struggle for your orgasm, that you didn’t notice when he returned. That is, until the wand disappeared with a snap of his fingers, causing you to whine at the loss and open your eyes to the sight of your breathtaking husband, leaning casually against the dresser with a mug of steaming hot beverage in his hand; he was drinking in the sight of you, so desperate for the release only he could grant you. His eyes were burning with lust.

“Aren’t you going to welcome me back, pet?” he asked with a teasing smirk.

The asshole.

“Welcome back, Sir,” you managed to mutter between pants.

“That’s more like it.” He took a large gulp of the hot liquid — hot cocoa, you guessed, based on the smattering of foam the swig left on his top lip — and you watched with curiosity as he seemed to hold it in his mouth without swallowing. Setting the mug down on the bench, he picked up the glass dildo that you had all but forgotten about. Your eyes widened when you saw a tinge of blue creep across the skin of his hand, the smooth surface of the glass covered in a blanket of frost.

Without warning, he thrust the icy glass cock into your sopping cunt, the cold surface against your warm inner walls intensifying every sensation as it moved and twisted inside you. The sharp cry that rang from your throat was one of both surprise and unabashed primal lust. You saw his Adam’s apple bob sinfully as he finally swallowed the steaming liquid that was in his mouth, just before he winked at you and lowered his lips to latch around your neglected clit.

“Ohhhhh, Sir, ye- yesssss.” The stark contrast of the frigid length inside you and his warm mouth sucking and lapping at your sensitive bud was nearly too much to handle. You had enjoyed the skilled labor of your husband’s silver tongue many times before, but this was something entirely different. You could barely catch your breath, let alone form a coherent sentence.

“Mmmm…” he moaned salaciously, sending vibrations directly to your core. The familiar coil in your belly was winding tighter, threatening to snap into an earth-shattering orgasm. Just… a tiny… bit… more…

“…’m gonna come, Sir!” You whispered between whimpers and pants.

But he stopped. The frosted dildo and his mouth were both removed from your core. You whined desperately, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes at the loss, your impending orgasm ebbing away.

“You didn’t think you’d get release so soon, did you? Naughty girls don’t get to come so easily.” Loki’s eyes were ablaze with a ravenous hunger; you could see his lips and chin glistening with your sweet nectar, the flickering light of the candle in the corner of the room dancing across his face now, as the sun had set since the start of your debauched activities. He bent down to kiss you, his lips and tongue unrelenting against yours; you moaned at the taste of your arousal on his lips.

As he pulled away, allowing you both to catch your breath, you saw him refrost the glass toy and reach again for the mug to take another swig of hot cocoa into his mouth. Before you could protest, both had resumed their delectable torment, the icy tip of the dildo circling your aching clit before dipping inside you and being replaced with his hot mouth.

“Please, Sir,” you pleaded as he fucked you with the cold, hard dildo and swirled his hot tongue around your bundle of nerves. He reached one hand up to your breast, rolling and tweaking a pebbled nipple before switching to pay the same attention to the other hardened peak. Within minutes, you were there again, you could almost taste your impending orgasm. And again he stopped.

“Ohhh, pet, you taste sweeter than this cocoa,” he huskily groaned. “And look at you, so needy and desperate for me. Do you want release?” You whimpered and nodded your head as urgently as you could manage. “If you come tonight, it will be on my cock. And I want you to beg for it.”

His clothes disappeared in a flash of green light, leaving the entirety of his glorious form bare to your gaze for the first time that night. You slowly raked you eyes across every inch of him, admiring the way his lean muscles rippled and flexed underneath his perfect skin as he moved, and counting your lucky stars that he was yours.

“Please, Sir, pleeeeease give me your cock. I need it. I need you. Please make me come, Sir.” you shamelessly panted and begged, desperate for him and for the sweet release only he could give you.

He hovered over you on the bed; you could feel his rigid length against your thigh, the tip angry and red. He was just as desperate for release as you were. Bracing his weight on one forearm, he snaked the other hand across your collarbone with a featherlight touch before it settled firmly around your throat as he kissed you hungrily. So lost were you in the passion of the kiss that you barely noticed as he lined himself up at your entrance. With one perfectly angled thrust, he finally entered you, filling you to the hilt. Your breath hitched against his mouth; no matter how many times you took him, the sheer size of him ensured that the first few strokes would always take your breath away.

“You don’t have to wait any longer, darling.” He rasped against your ear as he began to thrust, rutting his hips against you with each stroke, the wiry curls at the base of his cock brushing against your clit. “Don’t hold back, and I won’t stop this time. Let yourself go and let me hear you when you topple over into bliss. Say my name as you come.”

It didn’t take long at all for you to reach the precipice, the coil at the base of your abdomen tightening almost immediately after the edging you had already endured. You were a panting, moaning mess while he worshipped you, trailing wet kisses along your neck and collarbone. His rhythm was becoming sloppier, and you knew he was close too.

“Ohhh Loki, yes, YESSS!” you gasped as the coil snapped, your inner walls squeezing him like a vice as you finally came, the earth-shattering orgasm causing your entire body to shake. “Yes, Loki. Loki…” You chanted his name like a mantra.

Before you had come down from your high, he came too, spilling his hot seed into you with a grunt. “Who do you belong to, love?”

“You, Loki, only you.”

Once his load was spent, he collapsed on top of you, your sweaty skin sliding against his own. The restraints immediately disappeared and you wrapped your arms around him as you both panted, coming down from your highs together.

“I love you, my darling wife,” he murmured against your ear a few moments later, before he placed a chaste kiss to your lips and rose from the bed. “Now let me take care of you.”

“I love you too, Loki…” you trailed, your mind still swimming in euphoria.

Loki got up and tended to you, bringing you a glass of water and helping you sit up to drink it, the cold liquid refreshing your parched throat. Then, he cleaned up the mess between your legs with his seidr and lifted you off the bed, carrying you bridal style into the en-suite bathroom and lowering you gently into the bathtub that he had already filled with hot water and your favorite lavender bath oil. He knelt beside the tub and kissed you tenderly, his elegant fingers wrapping through your tousled hair, thumb brushing your cheek lovingly. How lucky you were that he was yours.

“I’ll go down and start a fire, my love,” he said, eyes brimming with adoration. “After you’re finished in the bath, come downstairs and I thought we could snuggle on the couch, enjoy some hot cocoa, and watch a movie. I know that’s your favorite thing to do in the winter.”

“You’re wrong about that, Loki.” His lips turned down into a frown at your words, his brows knitting together in confusion. With a beaming smile creeping across your face, you finished, “You’re my favorite thing to do in the winter.”

#loki #loki smut #loki smut oneshot #lokismut #loki fluff #loki fluff and smut #loki laufeyson fluff #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki fic #dom loki #dom!loki #dom!loki x sub!reader #dom loki sub reader #loki laufeyson smut #winter warmers #loki fanfiction #winter warmers collection

2K notes · View notes