#the more i think about their dynamic the more i want to sink my teeth into concrete | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miraclewoozi · 11 days

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SPECTACLE. -j.ww

in which your new boyfriend, wonwoo, doesn't give a crap about his expensive eyewear.

pairing : wonwoo x fem!reader. content : smut. pwp. tags under the cut. MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT. w/c : 2.7k. notes : yeah i kinda. went insane over this idea. so. bon appetite to you, and also to wonwoo ? i guess.

content + smut tags : established - but new - relationship. making out. FACE SITTING. impact play? (one gentle butt slap). the shenanigans are on a couch if that matters, i don't know. reader is a little shy about doing it. PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything.

Wonwoo looks flushed when he pulls away from where he’s been kissing and nipping at the side of your neck, hair stuck up in every direction thanks to your tugging fingers and your gentle guidance to help him find your sweet spots. His lips are pink and a little plumped. His glasses are steaming up, sitting halfway down the bridge of his nose, and every slightly heavier breath he takes makes his broad chest rise and fall where it’s pressed wholly against yours.

You can’t help yourself from leaning forward into another kiss; he’s completely irresistible. Maybe the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. And while this isn’t really news to you, the dynamic of your relationship with him shifted a month or so ago and you’re still getting used to the privilege of seeing him this close up.

He’s still adjusting too, if the way he groans directly into your mouth, hands groping harder at the curve of your ass as you shuffle in his lap is anything to judge by. Still learning, still figuring you out. But – and this is how you know what you’re building here might be the real deal – even when it’s clumsy, and when you knock teeth while you’re kissing and burst into slightly pained giggles, or when things accidentally slip out of place while you’re getting steamy… everything Wonwoo does makes your spine tingle. Makes your stomach flip. Makes your core throb.

Even when it doesn’t always work? It makes sense, and it’s perfect, and losing yourself in the way his lips caress and worship yours is so damn easy when he murmurs your praises just for letting him do this in the first place.

“Will you do something for me?” He asks after a small forever, pulling back just far enough that he's not breathing up your nose. His hands have made their way under your – his – hoodie now and he’s grazing his fingers over your ribs, tickling enough to make you whimper, not enough for you to want to swat him away.

You think you’d give him the world if he asked for it in that deep, rough voice he adopts when things start heading in this direction. The moon too. Shit, if you could get a lasso around the sun and bring it closer to keep him warm, you’d do that as well. So, whatever his little request is now, you know you’re going to agree; resting your hands on his shoulders (finally leaving his gorgeous hair alone), you lean back from him and nod your head.

“Anything,” you say. You’re certain that you feel his cock twitch in his sweatpants where it’s pressed against the inside of your thigh, but you’re not quite sure why.

It makes you feel hot, though. More-so when he bites back a grin, lips curling in that adorable way. It feels greatly unfair that you can’t swoop down right this second to kiss him again, and again, and again; as painful as it is though, you do exercise enough grace to wait for him to come out with it.

“Get up,” he says softly, dropping his hands down your sides and squeezing at your hips once.

You do as he asks and move off his lap, sitting on the other side of the couch; he doesn’t say anything else as he stands up himself, pulls his hoodie off over his head and tosses it to one side before sinking all the way down to the floor. You raise an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t see you. He shuffles into place with his back against the edge of the seat and only once he’s comfortable does he turn to look at you over one shoulder, grinning brilliantly.

“Okay,” he says, bending his knees and planting his heels into the floor. “Come here.”

You stand up off the cushions now and look down at him for a second, wondering what on Earth is going through his mind, but you know better than to start questioning his strange ideas. Especially when he’s in this sort of a mood. You step over him, one foot either side of his hips, and start to drop down too, but he puts a hand on each of your knees and stops you before you’re in his lap once again.

“No,” Wonwoo says, shaking his head. His hands then make their way to the backs of your thighs and he pushes forwards, trying to guide you where he wants you. Your knees bend of their own accord and press against the couch on both sides of his head. “Like this.”

You don’t exactly freeze up, but it is as if you forget how to control all of your muscles for a second. The ones in your legs seem to turn to jelly and you know it’s only because the sofa is currently taking a portion of your weight that you don’t buckle completely and fall onto the top of his head. The ones in your face give you a slack-jawed, wide-eyed, unblinking expression.

Your abdominal muscles tighten and your cunt flutters at what you’re sure he’s trying to suggest, the rush of wetness you feel only worsened by the intensity in his eyes as he tips his head back and looks at you.

“Please?” He asks, all sweet but deep and rough at the same time.

“Are you s–?” You start to ask.

Wonwoo clicks his tongue at you and tries to encourage you further onto the couch to prove his point. “Yes,” he says, nodding eagerly.

And then, just so you really can’t mistake what he's asking for–

“I want you to sit on my face.”

Your entire body heats up at how bluntly he says it. You squeeze your eyes shut and bite the inside of your cheek so that you don’t accidentally laugh with the nerves already trying to burst out of your tummy.

It’s not that you don’t want to. If you had a penny for every time you’d thought about him giving himself up for your pleasure this way, you’d be rich. You do. You’re going a little crazy just imagining how good it’s going to feel.

It’s just that him being so bold about it has you feeling shy, and that’s never happened to you before. You’re at a loss. You’re totally stumped.

When you open your eyes again and look down at him, Wonwoo is just as earnest and hungry for you as he was a few seconds ago. If anything, it’s as if he wants it more. It’s without a doubt the hottest thing you’ve ever seen and before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re nodding at him; his fingers start to drag up and down the backs of your thighs happily, before they hook under the waistband of your shorts and gently make that first little pull.

“If you don’t like it, we can stop,” he says to you, only pulling them all the way down when you start to help him. They get tossed over to the side to join his hoodie after you step out of them. His eyes glance to the panties you’re wearing – the last barrier, the final thing keeping him from what he’s so desperate for – before he looks back at your face and flashes you a smile. “Just tell me, okay?”

“It’s not that,” you laugh softly, taking off your own jumper and throwing it onto the pile. Wonwoo groans at the sight of you; you roll your eyes at him. “You just… took me by surprise.”

“Good,” he sighs, wrapping an arm around one of your legs and letting you settle onto your knees in position over his mouth, pressing his fingers into the top of your thigh.

The first soft press of his lips over your panties makes you gasp and you hold a little tighter onto the back cushions as you look down at him. His eyes are closed already as he breathes your heady scent in, deep enough to hopefully stain his lungs, enough that he’ll never get rid of it, that he’ll be able to carry you everywhere he goes.

But Wonwoo’s closed eyes aren’t the only thing you notice between your thighs and a soft laugh replaces the pleased sounds already spilling from your lips. One hand drops down to where he's settled and your fingers brush against his temple as they try to pinch at one side of his glasses. He looks affronted when he catches your gaze.

“What’re you doing?” He asks, gently moving your hand away.

You tilt your head at him. “Your glasses,” you prompt, moving to reach for them again. His fingers curl around your wrist and he shoves your hand into his hair instead, rubbing the tip of his nose against the inside of your thigh.

“I want to keep them on,” he tells you.

“What if they break?”

“Don’t care,” he hums, kissing his way back towards your covered pussy. “I’ll buy a new pair. I just wanna see you.”

You swallow at this and decide that you’re definitely not going to try and change his mind, instead choosing to tilt your head back and let his skilled tongue work you up through your underwear. It’s a mess of arousal and spit and they’re soaked, translucent, clinging to you by the time he’s frustrated with them; frankly, so are you, and it's a relief when he concludes that enough is enough.

“Baby,” he groans as he pulls your underwear to one side and has to crane his neck up to lick the flat of his tongue in a stripe up your slit. You whine, the cool air and his hot breaths a menacing mix of sensations, but you don’t have the sense to respond; one soft slap of his hand against your ass makes you look back down at him, though, and you’re met with dark eyes, flushed cheeks and a practically frenzied Wonwoo in the space between your hips. Your sweet, softly spoken boyfriend is nowhere to be found.

“I said, sit.”

His strong arm tugs you down and your knees slide against the cushions, bringing your pussy even closer to his face, literally forcing you to rest against his lips. He chuckles triumphantly and buries his tongue between your folds, tasting you so much more legitimately than before. The way he loves – straight from the source, the spring. You feel him prod at your hole and your walls clench around what he gives you – barely just the tip, but it’s enough to have you reeling already, and when his other arm hooks around your other thigh, when he starts to move you back and forth, you take very little convincing to start to rock your hips down against him on your own.

“Oh,” you whimper as his lips seal around your clit and he sucks at it once, giving a few experimental flicks of his tongue at the same time. The hand in his hair tightens immediately and Wonwoo groans with you still in his mouth, sending delicious vibrations through your sensitive nerves and making you gush onto his chin.

“So fucking pretty like this,” he tells you, stroking his thumb over your waist. “Might be my new favourite view.”

He keeps lapping at you teasingly, testing circles and sideways motions, precise swipes, long drags; every subtle change as he tries to find what makes you scream in this position draws a different sound from your throat. He tenses the muscle and fucks your dribbling hole with it while encouraging you to move enough forward that his nose bumps against your clit with every jerky rock of your hips. You’re grinding faster, now, pressing down against his mouth harder, caring less by the second about whether his glasses are actually going to break in two. Besides, the way he drinks you down tells you that he could do this for a week straight without getting tired; he doesn’t want you to stop, or slow down, or ease up. He wants more. And if you’re too shy to give it to him, he’ll just take, take, take.

“Just– oh, fuck,” you gasp as his tongue finds your clit again and he laps at it with so much zeal that he could rival your favourite vibrator. “Just like that–”

Both of his hands grasp you tighter, squeezing and massaging and kneading at your soft skin as you chase your high on his pretty face. His eyes are tightly closed in his own rapture, and you hope that he won’t blame you for wanting him to open them; your hand pulls harshly at his hair again, hard enough to make him cringe, enough to make him stop for just a second before he sees how wound-up you look. You try to pull off from him a little, at least enough for him to catch a couple of breaths, but Wonwoo captures your pussy between his lips before you even hear him inhale.

“You– you wanted to s—see me,” you stutter out as the fire starts to catch and you feel warmth and ecstasy start to build at your core. “Fuck– ah–”

So he does. With big, hungry eyes, Wonwoo watches as you hurtle towards oblivion, as you writhe and squirm and grind down against his ardent mouth.

He sends you crashing over the edge with a wet sob, your own eyes closing now as you see stars in the darkness and ride your high out on his still-moving tongue. There are tears on your cheeks before you can do anything about it. Your walls spasm around nothing. He barely slows, taking back enough pressure so that your pleasure doesn’t turn to pain. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t even blink until you’re out the other side of your climax, though.

When your pants start to die down and you’re twitching to get away from him, so sensitive that even his tiny kisses make you shudder, Wonwoo drops his head back down to the pillows and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. You don’t have the strength to move yet, still reeling, still too floaty to try for any level of coordination, but he doesn’t mind. Your swollen, glistening pussy right over his face is something he'd pay millions to see.

“Didn’t even break the glasses,” you laugh weakly once your voice decides to come back to you.

“Mm,” Wonwoo hums, sliding them off his nose and inspecting them. He ‘tsk’s before putting them back on. They’re steamed at the edges and a little smeary now, and he surely can’t actually see that clearly through them. He obviously doesn’t care. “That’s not good enough.”

“Huh?” you ask, moving carefully so as not to plant your knee into his jaw but still trying to bring your legs together so that you can sit to one side. He isn't having it, though, and slowly shuffles up onto his knees, turns around to face you and lays his fingers on one of your ankles, wasting no time in trying to pry your legs apart again.

“That’s. Not. Good. Enough,” he repeats, using his other hand to palm himself over the fabric of his sweatpants. The tent in them would be comical if it weren’t for the animalistic look in his eyes; there’s nothing laughable about the way he’s looking at you right now, though.

“So what are we gonna do about it?” You ask, opening back up for him and not hiding how you stare as he rips his shirt off over his head. Then, he slides his fingertips up the inside of your calf, to your knee, down your thigh… he drags them over the lips of your pussy and collects a little of your slick on them before bringing his hand to his lips and sucking it clean.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” he tells you, groaning at your sweet taste as if he wasn’t just drowning in it a minute and a half ago. He lowers himself until he's once more level with your cunt and guides both of your legs over his shoulders, smirking up at your expectant face. “Maybe try to squeeze your thighs a little more this time. See if that does the trick.”

thank you so much for reading!! i hope u enjoyed this hehe. as always, likes, reblogs, replies, feedback and asks are always super appreciated.<3

#wonwoo smut #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #kpop smut #*#j writes.#this is the best title i've ever given anything and if you disagree. argue with the wall #i'm fucking hilarious. anyway don't perceive me.#taking myself to horknee jail right this second

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the-modern-typewriter · 2 months

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Some of you asked (in response to this post) what were my favourite stories I'd posted on tumblr were. In no particular order, here are the top 5:

The Blue Key (I think it's the best standalone story I've written, except maybe this Medusa one that I haven't posted anywhere yet. It's pure me and my obsessions on the theme and I'm really proud of the writing itself. I genuinely think it's good. As writers we spend enough time doubting ourselves, so it's really nice to look at something you have done and be like 'huh, yeah, actually!!')

Villain locked up + treated badly (I really like the actual writing craft/descriptions in this one. Again, I think I did a genuinely good job. It makes me feel excited about my writing.)

Super beautiful villain (I can remember my thought process during writing this very clearly. E.g > I'm too ace for love at first sight based on purely physical attraction > so what's going on here? > ooh, ugly/beautiful themes and our stance on morality, plus foil characters, this is tapping into one of the things that fascinate me! I remember someone pointing out 'well, this character could just be ace and kill the villain' and me internally being like 'but I AM ace, do you think that makes you immune to wanting?' Anyway. If I was ever going to pick up a story to expand fully in my own time, it would probably be this one. It just brims with potential to me. Or the ace and the incubi one for a lighter version.)

Tired hero/Villain in cathedral (I often under-utilise setting in my tumblr posts, because they're just not to focus, but I really like how I quietly used the setting in this one. I just love cathedrals)

Princess/Demon Prince or Reincarnated wife of the monster king (oldies, but goldies. If I was ever going to write a me version of a more typical dark romance novel, I reckon it would stem from one of these. I don't know. There's something in the dynamic that I find interesting and dare-I-say mildly original. Worthy of sinking my teeth into.)

#writing #my stories #writeblr #fantasy #hero x villain #short stories #writing snippets #story snippets #idk

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chadleys · 7 months

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for the sub-astarion fic, just do whatever you see fit but could you atleast sprinkle in a mommy kink with a side of biting kink pls 🙈🙈

›› pairing: astarion x f!reader

›› wordcount: 1k

›› genre: smut, sub!astarion, dom!reader

›› rating: 18+, mdni

›› synopsis: just astarion being the goodest boy, that's all.

›› warnings: mommy kink, biting kink, teasing handjob, d/s dynamics

you love having him like this, in your lap, pressed so close there’s barely any room to decipher between the two of you. which is how you like it, how you know things are meant to be. the two of you; halves of one whole.

you lean back against the rough bark of a cedar and astarion leans against you, his pretty back sealed to your chest with a thin layer of sweat. his scars brush your nipples with every movement.

before you is a canyon, dropping steeply down to the valley below, and the misty mountain range beyond. all of this illuminated in the silvery glow of a full moon, big and brash in the sky, daring you to look at it.

which there’s not a fat chance of.

astarion’s gaze is glued downward, between his legs, where your hands are cradling his swollen balls and stroking lazily at his hard, aching cock.

as for you, you can’t keep your eyes off the side of his beautiful face, your nose buried in his silver curls.

you kiss the nape of his neck, gently, teasing, and astarion’s entire body shudders against you, his grip going tight on your thighs. ❝ darling, ❞ he says, and the usual brash confidence in his voice is nowhere to be found, replaced by a wheedling whimper.

there’s no helping the giggle that climbs out of you, even as your cunt drips, soaking the blanket you laid out to shield yourselves from the dirt and grass.

❝ yes? ❞ you query, and your hand strokes meanly over the tip of his cock, precum slicking the way as you squeeze.

❝ gods, ❞ astarion gasps, going rigid in your arms. ❝ well. i was going to ask if … mm … if you’d deign to go any faster? please? ❞

he turns, trying to give you his best ‘ i’m a beautiful vampire and i always get my way ‘ look.

all you see, however, is the most desperate, wanton little thing you’ve ever laid eyes on. and he is perfect.

it’s almost enough to make you want to speed up, to milk him until he’s spilling all over your hands in record time.

almost.

another quiet laugh bubbles out of you, and you hook your chin over his shoulder to see exactly what you’re doing to him.

his cockhead is red and impossibly swollen, glistening in the moonlight. there was no need for any oil tonight; he’s wet as any woman.

❝ i take that as a no, ❞ he mutters, and his grip once more tightens on your legs as he starts to drive himself up, fucking your fist.

you tut, immediately releasing his cock, leaving it to twitch wetly against his abdomen, utterly disappointed.

astarion makes a beautiful, frustrated little noise, bucks once more, and laxes back against you.

with the tip of one finger, you tease the head of his cock, just underneath the frenulum, and are rewarded with a fresh flood of precum and astarion’s exasperated sigh.

❝ you can cum like this, or not at all. ❞

❝ i — ❞ he’s about to argue with you, glaring at you out of the corner of his darkened eyes.

you give him a stern look, and he must think better of it, gaze slowly slipping away.

you sigh. ❝ you’re always so eager to try and wrest control, my love. ❞ affectionately, to show him you aren’t upset with him, you rub your nose just below his ear as you purr, ❝ why can’t you just let me take control for once? to make you feel good? i know you’ll love leaning back and relinquishing control, showing me just what a good boy you can be. ❞

the words ‘ good ‘ and ‘ boy ‘ strung together have the most gorgeous effect on the vampire in your lap. he sighs and lists back, head thrown to one side. leaving you the perfect access to his long, pale throat.

no hesitation, you sink your teeth in.

astarion yelps and his cock twitches where you’ve grabbed hold of it again.

❝ mother, ❞ he admonishes, breathless. his gaze retrieves yours; he’s joking, but only somewhat.

you decide to play along. ❝ yes, my sweet darling boy? ❞

he sniffs, looking bashfully away. ❝ i’m supposed to be the bloodthirsty vampire around here . . . ❞

starting to slowly pump your hand on him again, you press your breasts harder into his back, so he can feel how hard your nipples really are. ❝ mm, guess what? right now, you’re just my good boy. ❞

a hitch of breath, astarion’s hips aching to just thrust up into your grip until he cums.

you shush him, keeping a steady, defiant pace with your hand.

the first sign of his impending climax is a tightening of his balls in the palm of your hand as you roll them gently. the second, his nails digging deliciously into the meat of your thighs as he starts to pant.

❝ love — ❞

❝ i know, astarion. i know. just let it go, darling. be the good boy i know you are and cum for me. all over yourself. ❞

amidst the soft moist sounds of your hands pushing him over the edge, astarion gasps and his hips thrust sharply up, every muscle in his body going taut. the sight is incomparable. you could watch astarion lose himself time after time and never get sick of it.

cum shoots in thick ropes over the vampire’s toned abdomen, his thighs quivering, cock throbbing and twitching between your fingers as you glide one knuckle along that sensitive spot just below his contracting balls.

❝ by the gods, ❞ astarion chokes, as the strings of cum die out, the remainder oozing instead over your hands and wrists.

❝ someone was pent up, ❞ you giggle, slowing your ministrations. ❝ think we got everything or should i try for more? ❞

astarion grabs for one of your hands to still it, and you find that his fingers are trembling. ❝ please, no. i . . . i do think that’s enough for one night. ❞

❝ hm. fine. ❞ you scoot back just enough to be able to cant your hips up, dragging your wet cunt along his lower back. ❝ my turn, then. ❞

#astarion smut #sub!astarion #astarion #astarion hc #ask #anon #dom!reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you

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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 2 months

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breaking me (not literally)

(cw: age gap 25/41; nsfw, pure smut, MDNI; biting/marking, dacryphilia(ish), d/s-dynamics, sex toys, butt stuff, restrained and gagged, overstimulation)

continuing the part before: wearing glasses

Hanging off König’s shoulder I have a déjà vu, from the first time he carried me to his bedroom last week. Not much has changed since then, but at the same time…

I get torn from my thoughts when he lifts me up, his big strong hands around my waist, and just sets me down on the bed, my front against the mattress. He pulls down my pants and I wiggle my legs to help him with it, eager to get my clothes off.

His fingers are grabbing my ass cheeks as soon as they're free, squeezing and kneading. He leans down while I shimmy back, propping my butt up, and he nuzzles his face against my clothed pussy. His nose is pressed into the damp fabric, his tongue lapping at the black cotton, drenching it even more. He pulls back a bit and I can feel his teeth sink into the supple flesh of my butt, for just a moment, leaving a little mark.

"I have to say, having your ass in my face like that is almost as good as having you sit on me.", he says. He flips me around, so I'm on my back. "But I also like to see your face because it's so pretty when I eat you out." He grins at me, the sexy smirk almost turning a bit sinister. "Especially if your make-up is running down your cheeks like today."

Right. I look up into the mirror on his ceiling. My fucking make-up. I don't wear much, but I feel naked if I leave my house without eyeliner. Eyeliner that is now adorning my cheeks. I already look kind of fucked out, just from sucking his dick.

He climbs onto the mattress, kneeling beside me, and I sit up. Wanting to kiss him again and finally get naked, but he stops me when he starts with: "Before we do anything, I also wanted to talk about something.”

“Yes?”

“When I brought some of your stuff up, I dropped the box and half of it fell on the floor.”, he explains, huffing. He nods in the direction where the box is now standing, on his dresser.

My brows furrow, wondering why he thought this was something to bring up.

“I swear, I wasn't snooping or anything, but I picked the stuff up and saw what you packed.”, he adds, lifting his hands in defense.

My face lights up when I catch his drift. “Oh, you mean the toys!” I packed a small bag with my most trusted stuff into the box with my clothes when I got everything together this morning. On a whim really, even though just thinking about using this stuff with him makes me all hot and bothered. I must have left the zipper open when I put it in.

"Yes, the toys.", he confirms. "I know they're your stuff, but I was wonderi-"

"I didn't pack them to use alone under the shower.", I interrupt him with a straight face, but a little grin fights its way through.

"So, you wouldn't mind if we used them together?", he wants to know, making sure again.

"Quite the contrary.", I say, smiling at him.

He hums, the deep satisfied sound I heard a lot from him by now, and he bends forward to kiss me. But only quickly.

"Now that we got that out of the way... Do you have a safeword? Or some word that will work as one.", he says. His eyes search mine like it’s already written in them.

"I do.", I answer. "Spring rolls." My favourite food. I half-expect him to make a comment, a joke, anything, but he just nods, all serious.

"And what if you can't talk?", he asks.

"I- That was never really an issue before.", I say, a little bit unsure now.

"Can I show you? Non-verbal ones?", he suggests.

I nod in return.

"Either pinch me or snap your fingers. That one you can even do cuffed." He demonstrates the two simple gestures, softly pinching my thigh and repeating the snaps a few times. Easy enough.

But something else got my attention. "Cuffed?", I echo. My interest is instantly piqued, and he can see that on my face.

"Yeah." He grins at me. "Restrained, tied to the bed, you know."

"I would like that.", I blurt out, a light blush creeping onto my cheeks.

His eyebrows are shooting up, he’s straightening up, rolling his shoulders back, the grin getting brighter. "Good to know.", he comments, taking my hand in his. “If you’re tied up, we can also communicate like this.” He squeezes my fingers with his. “Once means green, go ahead, twice means yellow, slow down, and three times red, stop.” I imitate the presses, feeling his strong thick digits.

He lifts our entwined hands to his mouth. “Understood?”, he asks, holding my gaze, while he softly places kisses on the back of mine.

“Yes, Sir.”, I say, earnest, but with an edge. The ‘Sir’ drawn out, the corner of my mouth turning up into a smirk.

His eyes light up like matches set ablaze as he pulls me into him and I lean forward, getting up on my knees to kiss him. He answers, slow and sweet at first, until it gets more heated and sloppier. He breaks away to pull my shirt over my head, also getting rid of my bra, his thumb and pointer snapping the clasp open, fiddling with the hooks for a moment.

He's slowly lying me down on the bed, his mouth tracing a hot trail down to my breasts to toy with them. Licking, teasing. Biting them softly, his canines leaving little marks. His hand is holding mine again, his fingers intertwined with mine, stretching me across the mattress, splaying me out before him.

I'm so distracted by his touches that I don't even realise what he is doing, until he fixes a leather cuff around my left wrist. And then the other side as well.

A pang of excitement hits me, spreading through my body, soft tingles erupting all over my skin. God damn, he'll tie me up. Like we just said.

He gets up from the mattress, revealing straps that are tied to the bedposts that I didn't see before, clasping the cuffs to them and fastening them.

"Can you still do the snapping?", he asks, when my wrists get pulled up and to the side.

I demonstrate it with a quick snap of my fingers.

"Yes, good. And don't hesitate to you use the safewords, if you feel like you need to, and I will stop in an instant.", he reiterates again.

I nod. "I will." He trusts me to tell him if he takes it too far, and I trust him to respect my limits, otherwise stuff like this won't work.

He gives me another kiss and moves down to my ankles, getting rid of my panties as well, but not tossing them aside, before he gets two more cuffs and spreads my legs to tie them to the lower bed posts.

"I see now why you have a bed like this.", I quip while I can see myself splayed out on the mattress in the mirror above.

"I don't know what you mean.", he says, feigning innocence, as he gets one of the plush pillows to place under my lower back, propping me up a bit.

"Yeah, yeah.", I shoot back. My limbs are spread, my pussy exposed, but he just doesn't dive in like I want him to, desperate to finally feel his mouth on me.

When he's done, he gets up from the bed and gets rid of his clothes, shedding the shirt and his jeans. And I can see his dick, hanging between his legs, long and thick, getting hard again, after he just came in my mouth a few minutes ago, downstairs on the couch. The piercing at his tip glinting as his length bops with his steps, and I wanna taste him again.

He stalks over to the box, the box with my things again, not before shooting me another proving look. Taking something out that I can't see because his big hands close around it. All the while I'm tied up here, waiting, needy and impatient, and he is taking his fucking time.

"You done, big guy?", I ask while he is getting something from his nightstand. A bottle of lube.

"Patience, brat." Oh, the look is giving me. "You were being so good, sucking me off, and now all I hear are complaints and bratty comments?", he grumbles, but I can see the mischievous grin behind it. A little hint that he's not really cross with me, just leaning into our little games.

"Well, you know, I'm more well behaved when I'm satisfied, but somebody broke the bed this morning instead of makin-", I start again.

"That's it, no more talking for you.", he states, grabs my panties and stuffs them into my mouth. Pushing the fabric inside with his fingers until I can't talk anymore.

He pulls back, a smirk fighting through the serious expression. "Better.", he says, looking down at me.

My mouth is stuffed full, but he doesn't fasten it any further, so I could still spit it out easily, if I wasn't okay with it. I can see what he's doing, testing the waters.

He places himself between my legs, strewn over the end of the bed and still reaching me just fine. He presses kisses to my thighs, starting down at the knees. Taking his sweet, sweet time. Kissing up and down the one side, while his hand is slowly stroking up the other one.

When his fingertips finally coast over my pussy, I almost come, that's how wound up I am. I pull on the restraint, my mewls getting damped by the fabric in my mouth.

"So fucking needy for my touch.", he drawls, repeating the motion again before sinking one finger inside me. Oh, he likes to tease me like that, and right now I can't help, but just take it. My hips rut back and forth, with the way my legs are spread and the pillow is placed under my lower back, I can’t move into his hand, searching for more contact.

He’s moving the digit oh so slowly, my wetness spreading on it, as he slowly fucks me with it.

König bites me again. Sinking his teeth into the soft skin of my thigh. Leaving kisses and hickeys on my thighs, replacing the marks he left there before.

I come, unforeseen, when he pushes another finger in, curling them against the sensitive spot inside me. My hips buck up as I pull on my restraints. He doesn't stop, his fingers moving faster now, and my eyes roll back while my panties are drowning out my groans and screams.

I look down again, after the bigger waves have subsided. The corners of his mouth are turned up into a smirky smile, his eyes are on me, watching, how his fingers are still working themselves in and out of me. His gaze pans up, flitting over my whole naked body, thighs, hips and tummy, stopping for a moment at my tits that are moving up and down with my labored breaths, the peaks hard and sensitive. Up to my face that's adorned with streaks of run down make-up, my undies stuffed into my mouth.

"You're so fucking beautiful.", he almost purrs, his voice deep and laced with pure want. The little praise is shaking me, and my eyelids squeeze shut for just a moment. I will them to stay open, looking at him. Seeing what he'll do.

He pulls his fingers out and lifts them to his mouth, licking my juices off them. Just two quick licks, his tongue darting between them. And I whine. I just want his mouth on me. I would plead for it if I could.

But he doesn't even think about it, taking his other hand and spreading some of the wetness lower, until his fingertips are massaging my other hole. Slow deliberate circles, not dipping inside me before he takes some of the lube he got. Then he presses his pointer inside me, the digit sliding in easily with all the slick.

He is slowly coaxing me to take another finger while the thumb of his other hand is rubbing my clit. When he pushes deeper, his fingers stretching me, a zap of pleasure rips through me.

He pulls them out, leaving me empty, when he suddenly has a buttplug in his hand, my buttplug, the one I packed. Showing me the little thing, before I can feel it pushing against the puckered hole. The cool metal, the cold sensation and the feeling of fullness sending a violent shiver through me as it fully slips into me.

His fingers that were still rubbing over my clit drop lower again, roughly pushing into my pussy which swallows them up easily with how wet I am.

"So pretty with all your holes stuffed.", he whispers, his gaze panning up from between my legs and dropping back again. He pushes his hair out of his face, the long strands falling back over his broad shoulders now, before he leans down and finally puts his lips on my pussy.

His mouth sucks on my clit, and it's just too much. Tears are streaming down my cheeks, clouding my view, as his tongue presses on the sensitive nub, his fingers move inside my wetness and his thumb pushes on the flared base of the buttplug, and I come again.

He pulls back, his fingers slipping out my pussy, and I slump down into the mattress. He crawls over me, his face appearing in front of mine, his hair falling down over me, the tips of the long strands brushing over my sides, my tits. Smirking down at me, stroking over my cheek with his thumb, catching a stray tear that’s sitting there, before the hand scoots further up to the restraint. He squeezes mine, and I squeeze back, just once, to signal him that everything is okay. A go-ahead, not wanting him to stop at all and thinking he’ll finally fuck me.

He presses his lips to my cheek, but he just scoots down again, leaving a trail of kisses down my body, the soft touches sending shivers over me, the smallest stimulation making me gasp for air. My mouth is still gagged with my panties, my breaths shallow.

It's not over, something that becomes clear, when I see my vibe in his hand. Oh fuck, he is pulling out all the stops.

"Come on, you can give me another one.", he drawls, and I don't think the sounds coming out of my mouth would have made any sense, even if I wasn't gagged like that.

Still, I don't think about using the snaps a little bit, just losing myself in the pleasure. The sweet, sweet torture of being made to come over and over again. My thighs are shaking, and it gets only worse, when he places the buzzing head against my clit.

He's watching me, taking in every little bit, my writhing body pulling against the restraints around my wrists and ankles, my hips moving of their own volition. My back is arching and my head falls back.

“Schau mich an.”, he says, his voice alone getting my attention, though I don’t understand the words, my chin dropping to my chest. “Yeah, look at me, just like that, Liebes.”

His look is on me, finding my eyes that inevitably turn up again from the intense stimulation, but I try to hold his gaze. Also seeing the vibe in his hand, the device so small in his fingers as he presses it against my pussy, the familiar vibrations stoking my arousal again.

He doesn’t let up until I’m cumming again, the buzz of the vibe intermingling with my muffled moans and the strain of the leather cuffs. When the vibe shuts off, I relax into the sheets, still not taking my eyes off him.

“Good girl.”, he whispers, deep and soft, his usually furrowed brows turned-up, relaxed.

He’s taking everything away, pulling the plug out and putting the vibe to the side. I’m bare, writhing, overstimulated. Wetness is dripping out of me, covering the pillow beneath my hips.

His head dips between my legs, licking it all up, taking his sweet time eating me out. The sensations of his tongue and mouth and lips are so much more intense, the scruff of his beard against the sensitive skin almost makes me lose my mind.

By the time he gets a condom, my mind is hazy and filled with clouds and my pussy is overstimulated to high heavens.

He grins at me while he rolls the rubber down his length. "No pesky brat teasing me while I put on the condom.", he says. "Maybe I should tie you up more often."

My only answer is a whimper. He drops onto the mattress, crawling over me again. Pulling my panties out of my mouth, the fabric soaked with my spit. He lets me breathe for a moment, his thumb softly caressing my cheek as his hair falls into my face before he leans down to kiss me.

"You okay?", he asks softly.

"Mmmh, yes.", I mumble against his lips. "I'll never complain about not coming again, though.", I add, sighing.

He laughs a little. "Good.", he hums.

His dick slides into me, easily with how wet and relaxed I am. I groan, feeling so full, my pussy now clenching around his thickness. It's feeling sensitive, overstimulated and sore, but still so good. Little bits of pain that only make the pleasure so much higher. Intense, even more intense than usual. The stretch has my walls fluttering around him.

He starts to roll his hips into me and slowly gets rid of all the restraints on my wrists until it's just us two fucking again.

His hands are grabbing me, positioning my hips just how he likes it, my lower back still propped up on the cushion. His hair falling forward like a curtain. His dick moving inside me, deeper than his fingers were before, the girth filling me up.

He's going slower than usual, dragging himself out and in, his head turning up and his eyes rolling back when I squeeze down on his dick. My hands hold onto his arms that are propped beside me, my nails digging into his biceps.

And I can't believe I'm gonna cum again. The ones on his fingers and tongue, with the vibe, were different than this one. Starting so much deeper, wrecking through me, when he bottoms me out.

My eyes turn up, my mouth contorted into an O-shape, but the sounds are barely audible mewls. He leans down again, his hand tangling in my hair as he presses soft kisses to side of my face while I convulse around his dick. His moans and grunts spilling from his lips right next to my ear. My arms are reaching around his waist, my fingernails digging into the muscles on his back, adorned by black ink.

Finding my lips and kissing me, while he’s still thrusting into me, fucking me through the orgasm.

“I'm so close.”, he says quietly, his voice hoarse and deep.

“Please, I want you to come all over me.”, I whisper into the kiss. Simply saying it, telling him what I want, like he told me to yesterday.

He groans, pulling out of me in an instant, and I’m already propping myself up on my elbows, when he removes the condom. He sits back on his knees and pumps his hand a few times, then he cums all over me, moaning deeply, as the creamy liquid coats my tummy, boobs, some drops even hitting my face.

Thick ropes of cum are adorning my body as I smile up at him, sitting up onto my knees. I lean forward, licking the last of it from the tip of his dick, which makes him shake a bit because it's sensitive.

He pulls back and bows down, his hand grabbing my neck softly to pull me in before pressing his lips to mine. I hum into the kiss, feeling the little possessive gesture. When he pulls back, all I can do is sigh and look up him.

"Shower and food?", he suggests smiling down at me.

"Yes please." I get up from the mattress, but when the soles of my feet hit the floor and I try to stand on them, my knees buckle a bit. I stumble forward into him and his arm catches me, while I hold onto it.

"Whoops.", I exclaim, steadying myself.

“Everything okay?”, he asks, a hint of worry on his face, his other hand caressing my cheek.

“Yeah, just wobbly legs.”, I tell him, getting on my tiptoes to give him a kiss. “Somebody made up for breaking the bed and really did a number on me.”, I tell him.

“Yeah, he did?”, he asks, dropping another kiss onto my lips.

“Mhm.”, I mumble.

I wobble into the bathroom, my legs shaking a little bit, while he is putting new sheets onto the mattress. I make my way to the shower and catch a glimpse of myself. Black streaks down my cheeks, my makeup completely gone.

My tits and stomach wet and shiny from his cum against the soft skin. The grin on my face. The stupidly bright grin on my fucked-out face.

König passes me, his butt naked frame between me and the mirror, his broad hairy chest right in front of me. “Come on, sweetcheeks.”, he says, patting my butt. “Gotta get you cleaned up.” And pulling me with him into the shower.

After we've showered, we order something to eat, sitting back on the couch right where we started.

His glasses are placed on his nose again, the nose that has been broken at least twice. Our hair is still wet from the shower, I can feel the damp strands of his long hair against the back of my hand as I’m scratching his back, stroking over his bare shoulders.

He’s just in some shorts and me in a simple t-shirt, some Chelsea Grin merch. Together we're wearing one whole outfit.

I sit on his lap, both of us looking at the screen of his phone, the device so small in his hands, picking out what to eat. He is just adding everything that sounds good. So, basically everything.

This day started with him breaking my bed and now I'm staying at his place and chilling with him on the couch after he fucked my brains out. Once again.

Exclusively dating him now, even though he has to leave at some point to go on his next mission. Something that stirs a little in my stomach. But it is what it is.

I look at him, my eyes taking in the serious expression on his face while he adds another portion of spring rolls to the cart because I like them so much. The corner of his mouth turns up into a little smile while his eyes behind the glasses are still fixed on the phone screen. My fingers push back one strand of his long hair hanging into his face, the tips brushing over the stubble on his jaw, before I press a kiss onto his cheek.

You know what? I still wouldn't have it any other way.

How did the two cuties end up here? Check out the next chapter: lazy evenings or the full story in the Masterlist ~

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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holllandtrash · 1 year

Text

the good guy | mick schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x leclerc!reader part 3 (and final part) to disapproval read part 1 here and part 2 here

after getting an earful from you (and a certain british driver) it finally sinks in for charles how much he's been neglecting your happiness and he starts to see how much mick truly means to you

word count: 2.8k warnings: none except lil bit of asshole charles still

When Charles met up with Lando and Carlos for a late lunch, there was no way he could ignore their looks of disapproval. Lando even had sunglasses on and Charles could see the judgement through the dark lenses before he could sit down.

Charles could see the shift in dynamic as well. Lando and Carlos were friends, but they way they both sat on the same side of the table, leaving the other side empty for himself made this whole meal feel like an intervention. Maybe that was their plan, they wanted to talk some sense into the Ferrari driver.

“Do not say anything,” Charles groaned, slumping in the chair. Not like they would listen to his request anyway. He glanced over the menu but nothing seemed the least bit appetising. Last night's drinks were still sitting in his system and he was worried one bite from a fruit platter would cause everything to come up.

But the alcohol wasn’t the only reason why he felt sick.

Just seeing his sister’s face when the elevator doors opened told Charles that he royally fucked up.

“Was the Instagram story apology your idea or the PR teams?” Lando asked, reaching for his water. Carlos scoffed, but Lando continued on calling their friend out on his mistakes. “You realise that’s probably the worst way to apologise, right? You’re a laughing stock all over social media right now.”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Charles admitted, waving his hand at the server when he came by to take his order. He couldn’t eat anything.

Carlos leaned forward. With the most serious, dead panned look on his face, he looked directly into the eye of his teammate, “Has it ever crossed your mind to give Mick a chance?”

Charles glared at the Spaniard, “Mick isn’t the problem. She shouldn’t be dating any driver, period.”

“What about me?” Lando teased, only to be met with a similar death glare that had Lando sinking back into his seat. Charles could be intimidating when he wanted to.

“Mate, Mick is a good guy,” Carlos defended the German driver as he had done so many times before. “Your problem with him comes from your own insecurities.”

Charles grimaced, “My insecurities? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Camille?” Carlos brought up his last girlfriend, but didn’t stop there. “Colette? Who am I missing?” He looked at Lando.

“Mélanie,” Lando added, another ex. “You’ve got a bit of a track record, Charles. It was your own mistakes that ended those relationships and now you think every driver on the grid is as bad as you are.”

Was he really being scolded by a 23-year old gamer who’s most meaningful relationship was the one he had with his golf clubs?

“Most of them are,” Charles retorted. He knew first hand what majority of the drivers got up to after a race weekend. Infidelity, the partying and the lies that followed. Some of the guys were in serious relationships, more serious than his ever were, but that still didn’t stop them from making bad decisions.

“Mick’s not one of them,” Lando told him and Carlos nodded in agreement. “He’s not going to hurt your sister and if he does then he has 20 of us to answer to.”

Charles laughed at the idea of Lando trying to be threatening. That man couldn’t hurt a fly.

When Carlos excused himself to answer a phone call, Charles was really hoping that they could drop the conversation. He aimlessly picked up the menu again, not like he was going to order anything, but he only managed to scan about half of it before Lando threw a crumpled up napkin at him.

“What?” Charles spoke through clenched teeth. “I fucked up, I know.”

Lando took his sunglasses off, resting them on the surface of the table. There were no dark bags under his eyes, he probably had a great sleep last night. Lando was one of the few that didn’t wake up in the mornings wondering what sort of damage control he’d have to do to make up for the night before.

“Y/N has been nothing but supportive of you and your career,” Lando told him, as if Charles wasn’t already of that. “She’s a damn good sister to you and you can’t be arsed to show her and Mick half the respect that they give you. She’s family, Charles, but try hard enough and you will push her away. Put your own stubbornness aside for once and see how much Mick means to her, how happy he makes her. You're one of my best mates, so I say this with kindness, but you're honestly acting like a dickhead. You're not a child. She's not a child. She's in a relationship with someone who clearly loves her. Don't get in the way of that and for Christ's sakes, give Mick a break already. He's a good guy, you're not."

This was not the first time Charles had any heard this, but this was the first time he had all of it all at once from one of his closest friends. And after the events of this morning, it was sinking in deeper than it ever had before.

Charles opened his mouth, to argue of course, he didn’t like to be put in his place or told when he was wrong, but maybe it was for the best when his phone started to ring. He held his finger up to Lando and leaned back in his chair, answering immediately when he saw your name on the screen.

He barely got a word out when you started swearing at him, both in French and English. Charles couldn’t keep up with how fast you were talking but he got the main idea. That Instagram story apology did shit all to help make anything better.

Charles hated being yelled at though, so the more you raised your voice at him and told him how much of an ass he was, the more defensive he got, even when he knew he was the one in the wrong.

“A fucking Instagram story apology?” Your voice was so loud that even Lando could pick up on your words.

“What else do you want me to do?” Charles yelled back and across the table, Lando laughed.

“Be a better brother,” Lando suggested and Charles just flipped him off.

You scoffed into the receiver, “I want you to not lie on social media and put a fucking effort into getting along with Mick! Give me one good reason why you don’t approve of me dating him,”

Carlos had come back at that exact second and raised his eyebrows towards Lando who simply mouthed your name. Carlos hummed and sat down, watching the rest of this disaster of a show play out in front of him like it was a blockbuster film.

Charles had about ten reasons in the forefront of his mind as to why you shouldn’t be dating Mick, but for the life of him, he couldn’t get them out.

“You can’t,” you pointed out.

Charles rolled his eyes, not like you could see it, “He’s older than you.” Both Lando and Carlos groaned at that piss poor excuse.

“By two years.”

“He doesn’t have a career.”

“Harsh, mate,” Lando blurted out. Charles gave him a look, telling him to stop putting his two cents into his conversation.

“Maybe he’s not currently driving but that doesn't mean he’s done for good.”

“He can’t support you,” Charles said.

“I can support myself.”

Eventually, Charles just came out with it, “You shouldn’t be dating a driver, Y/N, okay?”

And it was really his own fault for using that excuse. The second those words left his mouth, you hit him right where you knew it would hurt.

“Just because you were a shitty boyfriend to your ex-girlfriends doesn’t mean Mick is going to treat me poorly too.”

Charles had never told you what happened in his last relationships, but it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. People gossiped. Rumours spread around the paddock and Charles knew damn well that a handful of drivers weren’t good at keeping their mouths shut.

“What is she saying?” Lando asked, more invested in this conversation than he had a right to be. Charles leaned away from the two of them, but it didn’t give him any more privacy.

“Charles, I don’t know what happened in your relationships,” he could hear the hesitancy in your tone, “but whatever fear you have, whatever you did…Mick isn’t the same guy. He’s not you, he’s-”

“Better,” Charles finished your sentence. Mick was better than he was. Mick was a good guy. He would give you the world world if you asked for it.

You laughed into the phone, agreeing that Mick in fact was a better person than Charles would ever be. “I mean, yeah. And I get it, you want to protect me but this isn’t how you go about it. You’ve just been cruel and closed off and you haven’t even tried to see Mick for the guy he is. Do you even know how happy he makes me?”

And what could Charles say to that?

He wasn’t blind, he saw how much of an impact Mick made on your life. For whatever reason that he still couldn’t wrap his head around, Mick meant the world to you. Charles told himself that it wouldn’t last and that you would eventually move on, but that still had yet to happen. Maybe it never would.

“I love him,” you said quietly, voice broken like it was your final attempt at getting through to Charles.

And again, what could Charles say to that?

This wasn’t a conversation he could have on the phone.

He abruptly hung up and slid his phone into his pocket, ignoring the confused stares from the other two drivers. Charles pushed the chair away from the table and stood up, not bothering with an explanation as he hurried to rush back to the hotel.

Charles packed up what he could in a frenzy, texting his assistant and asking them to grab anything he might have missed. His priority wasn’t making sure he had everything with him, it was getting to Monaco where he knew you were. Where else would you have gone? With that race coming up, it only made sense that you would go home early.

So a few coffees and five hours later, Charles found himself outside of your apartment building. He typed your code into the keypad to gain access and then next thing he knew, he was in front of your door.

It took nearly a minute for him to actually knock. He had no idea if you would listen to him, or even let him in. He thought about turning around and just heading back to his own place. Sending a text to meet up later might have been smarter, he’d have more time to think about what the hell he was going to say.

But no, he was already there. He had to talk to you. He needed to make things right.

When you opened the door and saw Charles, you had no idea what to think. It didn’t help that he still didn’t say anything. He drove this whole way and yet he couldn’t form a single coherent sentence. You were still waiting for a sincere apology.

“Y/N did you want Mozza or did you want to try that new sushi place?” Mick walked out of your office, focused on his phone that he didn’t even see Charles until he looked up to find out why you weren’t answering.

Charles cleared his throat, “Hi.”

Mick nodded firmly, glancing your way to get your read on the situation. He could tell right away that you didn’t invite him over. He could also tell that you didn’t know what to do and Mick being Mick needed to steer this in the right direction.

“Well don’t just stand there, come in,” Mick offered, putting his hand on your back to usher you to the side so you weren’t blocking the doorway. His touch sort of snapped you out of your own thoughts and you nodded in agreement, watching as your brother entered your flat.

This was awkward for everyone. This strange tension lingered in the air. You were mad at Charles. Charles wasn’t a fan of Mick. Mick was stuck in the middle because he loved you but he didn’t want to overstep and do anything that would really set Charles off.

“I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. You leaned against the edge of your kitchen table and watched as Charles shifted uncomfortably until choosing to lean against the wall behind him. He was out of his element here, especially with Mick at your side.

“Change of plans,” he said, his eyes landing on the way Mick still hadn’t removed his hand from your back. The way you leaned into his side didn’t go unnoticed.

“I find it hard to believe you drove home early just to stop by and say hi,” the bitterness in your tone caused Charles to tense up. You didn’t want to fight, truly, but you were still annoyed with his actions.

Mick’s fingers brushed against the material of your top and you inhaled a deep breath.

“Charles, you’re family and I love you, but-”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, interrupting you halfway through your sentence. Your eyes widened, not out of shock but because you were waiting to see if more followed. “Really, I am. I’m sorry for how I’ve treated Mick since the two of you have started seeing each other.”

This apology wasn’t for you. You just shrugged your shoulders and nodded your head towards your boyfriend, “Don’t tell me that. Tell him.”

Mick straightened up and you could see it in Charles’ face that he really didn’t want to have to repeat himself.

“Mick I’m-” Charles paused, glancing at you but you were staying out of this. He needed to apologise to Mick first and then the two of you could work out your issues. Charles sighed, “Mick I’m sorry, mate. I know you’re a good guy and I know you’ll treat Y/N right. I just can’t help but have my guards up for her. I know what some of the guys on the grid have done and I’ve seen-” he hesitated when you raised an accusatory eyebrow. “It’s not easy for drivers to be in relationships and I just don’t want to see Y/N getting hurt.”

“I would never hurt her,” Mick assured him, sliding his hand further around your waist. His fingers rested on your side as he pulled you against him and gave you a gentle squeeze. "Charles, I love your sister. She's my entire world, she means everything to me."

“I know that now,” Charles said, but you were still having trouble believing his words.

“Do you?” You asked, quite bluntly “Because I’ve been saying this for months and suddenly, out of the blue, you’ve come to your senses? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Honestly you can thank Lando,” he admitted. “He reminded me how supportive you’ve been of me my entire life. You’ve stuck by my side through everything. Every win, every loss- both off and on the track and I haven’t done the same.”

“Nope,” you agreed. “You haven’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Charles finally directed the apology to you. His green eyes were filled with sorrow and guilt and for the first time there seemed to be actual strength and meaning behind those two words. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I haven’t been a good brother.”

“You’ve been the worst.”

“I know.”

“You never even tried to get to know Mick off the track.”

“I know.”

“You’re always so caught up in your own world.”

“I know.”

“You don’t even-”

“Y/N,” it was Mick’s turn to cut you off. He looked between you and Charles. Whatever you were going to say, Charles would just keep agreeing. This could go on for hours if you all let it, but Mick stepped in. “I think we should just all agree to move past this.”

You nodded, but when you looked at your brother, you were still hesitant. How did you know he wasn’t just saying what you wanted to hear?

“I need to see more of an effort from you,” you declared. “I’m not saying you two have to be the best of friends but for the love of God, Charles, don’t be an ass anymore.”

“That sounds fair,” Charles said as Mick dipped his head and chuckled.

You expected Mick to be the one to extend the first olive branch, but it was Charles who stepped forward and held out his hand. Mick, who had been waiting for this since you started dating, happily stepped away from you to shake your brother's hand, only to pull him into that sort-of half embrace that men were notorious for.

“I know it doesn’t need to be said- or maybe I should have said it a long time ago," Charles started off as they pulled away, keeping one hand on his arm, “But welcome to the family, Mick."

Things weren't perfect after that, not at first at least. It took a bit of time, but eventually, Charles truly did see Mick as part of the family.

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 78,439 others

tagged: charles_leclerc and mickschumacher

yourusername it only took a game of football for them to become best friends❤️😉

view all 5,322 comments

charles_leclerc we were literally rooting for different teams

yourusername at least you're watching the game together mickschumacher he's still bitter because his team lost

fiftyfive the duo we needed

landonorris why wasn't I invited i'm the one who talked some sense into charles in the first place

charles_leclerc mate its been months let it go landonorris never

charles_leclerc added to their story

mickschumacher

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mickschumacher quick dip

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carlossainz55 did you push him in?

yourusername he did mickschumacher it was self defence charles_leclerc 🤨🤨🤨

f1 here for this bromance

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liked by mickschumacher, yourusername and 588,938 others

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f1 we love seeing the drivers hang out during the summer break❤️😉

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yourusername i was literally suffocating

charles_leclerc you're the one who wanted us to get along yourusername laying on top of me was not what i had in mind

paddockgf y/n is actually living the dream

mickschumacher

liked by mercedesamgf1, charles_leclerc and 873,116

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher it's always been you and I against the world, but now it's official ❤️ I love you, I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you

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mercedesamgf1 so is he taking her last name or

charles_leclerc yes

danielricciardo WOOOO CONGRATS TO THE HAPPY COUPLE

landonorris mick are you sure you want charles as a brother?

yourusername do you want to be invited to the wedding? landonorris hey its because of ME that charles even gave you his blessing, you wouldn't even be dating if it weren't for me yourusername it's actually impressive how much of that sentence is inaccurate charles_leclerc i mean, he's not completely wrong

yourusername

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tagged: mickschumacher

yourusername forever with my best friend? obviously i said yes❤️💍

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mickschumacher i love you❤️❤️

georgerussell63 congrats you two🥂🥂

charles_leclerc if i'm not his best man then the wedding is cancelled

liked by mickschumacher

requests are open • masterlist

a/n: i guess its time for a new mini series hehe

taglist: @spicyclover @leclerc16s @totally-random-person @majx00 @lighttsoutlewis @ellethewitchbitch @grimmducky @lucyhotchner @clintsupremacy @sussyzee @fock-smash @that-aesthetic-chic @alma23f1 @sbgal @h0e-xoxo @ivegotparticulartaste @sachaa-ff @emiiarmenn @konsti081 @pierre-gasllllllyyyyyy @melagemo0263 @myescapefromthislife @mehrmonga @pleasantducktimetravel @whatthefuckerr @kuskumu

#mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher one shot #mick schumacher instagram edit #mick schumacher #f1 social media au #f1 requests #f1 one shot #f1 instagram au #f1 #charles leclerc #instagram au #social media au #holllandtrash #lando literally saves the day i guess #lando norris #mick schumacher x reader

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pedgito · 1 year

Note

Ooh ooh I have an idea! Perv!Eddie losing his mind when his girlfriend admits she has a choking kink...but what he doesn't realize that her kink involves choking him. - @munson-blurbs 💚

author’s note: i put this off for so long and i’m sorry!! this idea was rattling around in my empty ass brain for ages and i finally decided to sit down and write it, i hope you enjoy!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), choking/breath play, degradation, dom!eddie (mentioned), slight perv!eddie, unprotected sex, eddie being so subby it’s ridiculous, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 1.1k

“Come on now,” Eddie says patronizingly, crawling up the bed by his knees in nothing but the dark jeans he dawned almost every day, belt forgotten in a corner of the room, “out with it.”

Eddie’s never steered away from anything—the nastier, the better. He was almost always controlling the dynamics, which you didn’t mind at all. But, the thought that was floating in your head, what you really wanted, it was almost terrifying to say out loud. Eddie wouldn’t judge, he never did—but there’s a small part of you that thinks he might be completely turned off by the idea, regardless of how badly he always wants you.

The most power you have is riding him until he’s begging you to come, hands on your hips like a death grip and aiding in the hurried rock of them.

“Yeah—need you to come all over my cock, baby.” Eddie begs, “Fuck, always squeezin’ me so tight.”

And it works every time, but even then, you never really feel like you’re in control.

“Promise not to laugh?” You swear him to it, pinky held up as a binding contract. Eddie smiles darkly, teeth peeking through.

“Promise.” He replies, linking his larger finger around your delicate one, rough against your soft skin.

“I…was thinking about like, breath play.” You tell him, words feeling foreign as they fell from your mouth.

“Choking?” He deduced, hooded eyes widening at the idea as he leans in a little further from where’s bearing the weight against his open palms on the mattress, nose rubbing yours teasingly before he leans back, mourning a quiet, “Oh baby, we can do that.”

In his eyes, you can see that he’s definitely not on the same wavelength. You offer a shy shake of your head, tipping your chin up to look at him, puffing your chest out figuratively as you counter him with—

“Not me, Eddie.” You explain. “You.”

Eddie pulls back slightly, surprised.

“Me? You wanna—“ Eddie breaths out a laugh, teeth dragging against bottom lip as he sizes you up, eyes dragging over you enticingly, “think you can handle that, sweetheart?”

You tilt your head in annoyance, eyes narrowing at him.

“I think you should be asking yourself that.”

And Eddie is truly, woefully unprepared.

He’s always got an edge to him, an advantage in most of your sexual situations, both in strength and experience, but he’s never been this easily subdued, and willfully so.

You sink down onto him with a careful calculation of your hips, muscles already shaking from how thoroughly Eddie had lapped at your cunt, devising you to nothing but sounds, words failing you completely. It was almost his favorite thing, second to being buried inside you so deep, squeezing desperately at the apex of your hips, flesh bruising under his fingers where his rings pressed in a little too hard.

He gives a soft slap to your ass, a reminder that he still had every chance to flip you over and take you how he wanted.

Your touch is soft at first, fingertips rubbing against the skin of his neck, slight stubble there from his lack of shaving that week. He tipped his chin up, giving you more room—challenging you.

“Don’t be afraid,” Eddie says menacingly, “I can take it.”

And that’s where the pressure gets tighter, following all the right steps to keep things safe, but definitely enjoyable—and based on the way Eddie’s eyes light up, you’re mimicking it perfectly.

You rock your hips slowly, letting out a purposefully depraved moan as slap your hand against the wall, aiding in the assist to keep you upright, otherwise you’d have already fallen against him and let him fuck himself up into you the way he liked—fast, hard, leaving you breathless.

His lips are parted slightly, flush and red from how he’d abused them both with your mouth and your pussy, glistening with a mix of spit and you as he grunted softly, barely audible if you weren’t so attentive to the sounds he was making.

“More.” He encourages, your eyes connecting with him briefly as you nod, applying more pressure. “Oh, fuck—“ He forces out, eyes squeezing shut momentarily. His hips snap up harshly, creating a brutish rhythm as he lets himself feel consumed by you.

“Like you when you look like this,” You comment hotly, voice thick with arousal, “fucking pathetic.”

Eddie nods knowingly, the words spurring him further.

Your hand leaves the wall momentarily, body straightening as your fingers find their way to his lips, thumb pressing gently over the bottom one until he lets you in, mouth closing around the digit to suck.

“You’re worse than me,” You laugh softly, voicing ringing in his ears like an angelic melody, “and so much fucking needier.”

“God, it’s—“ His voice is garbled, strained against the hold you had on him, thrusts faltering quicker than you expect, “gonna come baby, I’m so sorry—so good, I can’t—“

“Yeah?” You tease, nodding when he finally opens his eyes, face contorted in a mix of anguish and pleasure, groaning desperately, the rock of your hips quickening ever so slightly, his touch burning hot against your skin, “Fuck, wanna feel you come inside me, Eddie. Can you do that?”

He nods quickly, obediently. His fingers wrap around the wrist attached to the hand squeezing his neck, giving one last final thrust before he’s moaning out loudly, mumbling a weak warning as he comes, sounding more like a weak plea.

“I’m ruining you,” Eddie notes through heavy breaths, “and thank fuckin’ god for that.”

You lift yourself off of him ruefully, gasping slightly at the loss of contact, moving up his chest, his cum dripping out slightly and pooling against his skin—Eddie doesn’t even care, too mesmerized by the idea of you—that he had you.

“More of that, please?” Eddie asks sweetly, hands traveling up your body until they cup around your face, cheeks heating up underneath his touch, “Mmm, there she is.”

You shove at his face playfully, turning your head to kiss at his palm lightly.

“Don’t go shy on me now,” Eddie says with a smirk, “not after all that.”

“I just wanted to try it out,” You admit, glancing at him briefly before you eyes fall to his chest, tracing the tattoo there, “s’not your thing, I know.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie shakes his head, looking far more elated than usual, “I don’t need control all the time.”

You smile, huffing out a soft, pleased noise.

“Besides, it would break my heart if we never tried that again.” Eddie admits, “I don’t think I’ve ever come that fast.”

Plus, Eddie’s just a little too greedy when it comes to seeing you fall apart above him.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #my writing

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toji-girl · 2 months

Text

selfish ways | pro-hero! k. bakugo

synopsis: Katsuki is a very good husband, and has grown out of his anger the way you’ve seen him as a teenager, now being in his late twenties he’s a bit more relaxed until it comes to you, his wife.

wc: 6.2k

tags: 18+ ONLY content + minors and empty blogs DNI + fem reader + canonverse + repost + you're a waitress + y'all are married + daddy being used + you're tipsy but no dubcon or anything + jealousy sex rough sex + spitting + slight dom/sub dynamics + possessive! Katsuki + mentions of pregnancy + spanking + dirty talk + finger sucking + creampie + panty sniffing + cum play + mentions of a lactation kink + gagging + multiple positions + mirror sex + car sex + breeding + begging + angry sex + hair pulling + oral + fingering + a dirty talk + public sex on a car + spanking + hard degradation + any missing tag lmk!

There’s something about seeing other men talk to you, their fingers barely ghosting the bare flesh of your arm as they talk to you, a smile so sweet that could rot teeth pulled your lips back when you laughed reminding him of honey that escaped from your lips that drove Katsuki up the wall, he hates the people you have to deal with at your job.

Your laugh was meant for him and not the jackasses who kept asking you questions that didn’t pertain to the glossy menu in your hand and deep down he knows that you only entertain them for more tips, not because you’re unfaithful or anything of the sort.

“Did we come for lunch or to stalk your wife?” Sero asked raising his cup to his lips and looked at his friend wondering why they would spend their day off at the place you work.

Katsuki’s eyebrow raised a second ready for a quick remark before looking back at you bend over to grab a napkin showing the swell of your breasts thanks to the low-cut shirt you had to wear.

“Do you need anything else?” You asked the four men in the booth with your signature smile.

“How about your number?” One asked smiling not knowing who you were married to, not that he didn’t want to show you off but it was more to keep you safe from the villains and crazy fans that go buck wild, plus the media loves to twist little things and make a mountain of a mole hill.

“Oh, well, see I don’t think my husband would like that very much.” You replied letting your smile drop as you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“Too bad.” You ignored that comment and gathered the rest of their plates taking them to the back for the dishwasher bumping into Mio.

“Booth seven is full of catcallers so be careful they’ve asked me for my number.”

“And your husband didn’t tear his head off?” Your friend and coworker Hinata asked fluffing her ponytail and looking at you with a small smirk knowing how protective Katsuki is of you.

“Lucky for them Katsuki didn’t hear him.” You replied leaving the dishes in the sink leaving with a small wave, with a little sway in your hips you approached Katsuki’s table with a smile, he caught your stare and smiled.

“Hi, baby.” Katsuki groaned when you ran your fingers through his hair before pulling back knowing you’d end up in his lap, after the first initial year of dating it took him a while to get used to PDA, even now at twenty-six he didn’t pull you into full-on makeout sessions, just subtle touches and cuddling.

“How are you doing?” Denki asked handing you his menu already knowing what he was getting, since you and Katsuki met in elementary school you’d known him and his friends for a long time and you’d worked here long enough that he and the rest of the guys could recite the menu while sleeping.

“Same old same, work is busy as usual but the three of you always make it better.” You replied taking the glossy papers from them and winking at your husband.

With the menus tucked under your arm, you pinched Katsuki’s and Sero’s cheeks. “I know what you guys want so I will be back with that here soon.”

Katsuki watched you like a hawk especially when you went to talk to the men a few booths away from him, they kept making you laugh about something and talked to you about something that piqued your attention enough for you to stay at their table longer than usual, when you walked past him he grabbed your wrist stopping you dead in your tracks.

“Are you okay?” He asked running his calloused thumb over your knuckles, your heart softened seeing the look in his eyes noting how tired you were.

“I’m better now.” You replied using your free hand to run your fingers through his hair which was now cut and shaved into a fade almost with his blonde hair sticking up wildly still.

“Is there anything else you men need?” You asked looking at them.

“If you’re not on the menu I don’t want it,” Denki replied with a shit-eating grin looking up at you earning a kick to the shin from your husband.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Katsuki growled making Denki and Sero snicker, you shook your head and bent down showing him your cleavage.

“Let them say what they want baby, they don’t get to sleep next to me every night and I don’t have their last name.” You told him.

Katsuki grunted. “And they don’t-” You slapped your hand over his mouth making all of them laugh. “Okay, I’m out of here.”

Katsuki grabbed his plate out of your hand snagging your hand and kissing the back of it. “Can you take a break?”

“No, we’re short today and I can’t get one.”

He let go of your hand with another kiss and watched as you walked away to tend to the other tables, his eyes never left your moving figure as you weaved in and out of people, sweat shone on your forehead, and at certain times he’d see you bite your bottom lip that sent all his blood to his dick because it reminded him of when you’re under him or on top.

You could feel the weight of his stare so you afforded yourself a moment to glance at your husband who smiled at you, a smile you’ve seen before he had you on the bed and naked, you winked at him before placing the plate down wishing you were off work already when you passed Katsuki he ghosted his fingers over your arm but you ignored him to rile him up which he picked up on.

You passed him and walked to booth seven with the catcallers. “Hey cutie, are you doing anything after work?” The brunette man who sat on the end asked, his hand inching slowly out towards your wrist which you slowly pulled away with a smile.

“I do have plans, thank you for asking. How are we doing the check? Split evenly or?” Your eyes scanned the men picking up the tension because you knew the next question that was next to come.

“Or we could pay you another way.”

You gritted your teeth and forced a smile glancing at Sero who picked up your tension so he alerted Katsuki who stood from the booth and walked over to you with a stoic look on his handsome face, his lips twisted in a scowl when he came closer grabbing your elbow. “I think that you should pay her money and not offer anything else or you can get blown to hell you assholes,” Katsuki warned looking at each of them individually.

“And who are you? Her boss?” The black-haired man piped up leaning across the table to get a better look at your husband, you could see clear on his face he knew who Katsuki was, everyone knew who he was.

“No, I’m her husband you fuck.” He replied stepping closer to the table.

At this point, all you wanted was the floor to open up and swallow you whole. “Let it go, Kats, okay? I’m just going to go grab Eijiro and let him deal with him.” You tried to pull him away but he stood there still until you yanked his arm back again.

“Kats.” You begged knowing he would start a scene even dressed in his Hero uniform and since it’s Eijiro’s restaurant you wouldn’t get fired or anything but the last thing you wanted to do was clean Katsuki’s bloody lip again, he finally softened and let you pull him away and towards Eijiro’s office where he sat talking to his daughter Haruka who squealed for you.

After a serious accident that made him retire earlier than he wanted, Ei opened up a restaurant for his late wife who enjoyed cooking and their daughter looked just like her and since he was your best friend as well you got a job to help out and never left, how could you?

You and Katsuki ended up being Haruka’s Godparents so the two-year-old was obsessed with you, it was clear with how she waddled over to you and ended up in your arms as usual.

“Everything okay?” He asked raising an eyebrow when he saw you and Katsuki standing there in his doorway.

“These assholes-”

“Katsuki!” You scolded glancing down at Haruka who snuggled in your arms and babbled your name while playing with your tag.

“Sorry, but these not-so-nice people were trying to pay her with something other than money.”

With a nod of his head, Eijiro stood up and kissed Haruka on her head before leaving. “Uncle Kats!” She cried reaching out for him, once she was settled in his arms she rested her redhead on his chest with a content sigh, seeing him holding her like that made your womb clench with the sudden want of a baby, something you or Katsuki have talked about before but now you were definitely wanting to have a baby with him, he caught your smile.

“What?” He asked raising a blonde eyebrow.

“You look good holding a baby.” You replied with a shrug of your shoulders while stuffing your hands in the pockets of your apron.

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow absentmindedly patting her back gently rocking her back and forth but Eijiro walked back in with a scowl watching Haruka claw her way out of Katsuki’s arms to get back to her dad.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that but you’ll be getting a good tip, and with that, you can clock out.” He said holding his daughter in his arms.

“For real? Thank you!”

It didn’t take long for you to untie your apron and throw it in your locker before joining the two men and Haruka.

“Bye!” You waved at Eijiro and blew a kiss to Haruka who giggled and waved.

“Are you ready? I’m sorry that asshole ruined your shift sweetie.” Katsuki asked wrapping his arm around your waist and walking with you to his car.

“Don’t be sorry baby, thank you for protecting me. I don’t know where I would be without my husband.” You wrapped both of your arms around his waist and leaned against his chest.

“Your husband, hearing that makes me crazy.”

He opened the door for you and got in the driver’s side, his hand instantly landing on your thigh with a gentle squeeze, you hummed along to the song on the radio pulling your phone out, “Since we ditched Denki and Sero and I’m pretty sure Eijiro could use a night out what do you think about us hitting up a bar or something?”

Katsuki glanced at you quickly before turning down the street to your shared home. “If you want babe, when we get home I’ll give them a call.”

As soon as Katsuki called his friends they were quick to agree but Eijiro needed more convincing because he wasn’t sure about leaving Haruka with a babysitter so Sero convinced him that he needed this more than everyone. “Are we carpooling?” You asked poking your head in the bedroom to see Katsuki sitting on the edge watching TV.

“I think Eijiro is picking us up, he’s not going to drink tonight and I know how you get when you drink. I’m going to need all of them to help you up from the floor.” He teased leaning back a little to look at you.

You faked hurt and placed your hand over your heart with an open mouth. “And should we talk about how you get you’re drunk?” You asked walking in to lower yourself on his lap letting Katsuki cup your ass nuzzling his face between your breasts.

“I can’t wait to see them full of milk.” He murmured so quietly kissing the bare flesh, the image of you round with his child was now planted in his brain after seeing you hold Haruka, he wondered would your baby look like him or you more and who the little one would take after the most.

It felt natural and it was something you both truly wanted, you’ve both been married for the last six years and spent most of your lives together. You were his first for everything and vice versa, and now he wants you pregnant.

Katsuki looked up at you, vermillion eyes darkened with desire and lust thinking about it. “Milk? Do you want a baby, my baby?” You asked in a soft tone running your fingers through his hair.

“What? Yeah, of course. What are you wearing tonight?” He asked changing the subject and letting you caress his hair, with his face buried between your tits still.

“I was thinking of that dress I bought last year for my birthday, what do you think about that?”

“I think you look beautiful in any just as well as you look beautiful in nothing.”

You giggled and let him pull your shorts down along with your panties which he grabbed feeling the damp crotch, you watched him lift the material to his nose and inhale loudly.

“Come here.” Holding your back he flopped back so you were on top straddling his lap.

“I thought you said we had to get ready?” You whispered dancing your fingers up his broad bare chest raking your manicured nails lightly over the flesh hearing him draw a deep breath between his teeth.

“I know but how can I think of anything else when my naked wife is sitting on me like this.” His hands went up to cup your breasts squeezing them.

“What did you say about my tits filling with milk?”

Katsuki’s cheeks flushed a deep pink suddenly as he looked away. “Don’t be shy Kats, tell me, baby. You’re not the type to shy away honey.” You cooed gently grabbing his chin and moving his head so he could stare at you.

“Seeing you with Haruka made me think about us, what if we started a family?”

You bent down and kissed Katsuki deeply and passionately tangling your tongue with his creating a mirror shine of spit on your chins, when you pulled away you cupped both of his cheeks in your hands slightly squishing them together.

“Oh, Kats I would love to start a family with you, you’d make the best daddy.”

“I thought I already am the best daddy?” He teased with a cackle as he slapped your ass with a grin.

You giggled and opened your mouth to say something but Katsuki flipped so you were on your back now with him settling between your open legs.

“Before we do go,” he pulled his phone out sending a quick text before returning to your breasts, “I want to eat you up my sugar.”

A soft whine left your parted lips when Katsuki wrapped his lips around your nipple sucking the erect bud in his warm wet mouth, using his knees he parted your legs wider so he could settle in more, he popped your nipple from his mouth with a loud wet pop. “If I were to feel between your legs would I find you soaked?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer before his hand was cupping your cunt, thumb brushing against your swollen bud. “Ah, just like I thought.”

Slowly he pressed two fingers against your slick opening before slowly sliding into his last knuckle with a filthy wet squelch, Katsuki loved to tease and make you whine so sweetly when he massaged your g-spot while rubbing your clit still with his thumb.

“I can’t wait until you’re all round and swollen sweetheart, I mean you’re so fuckable already but thinking about that makes me feral almost. Fuck.” His eyes rolled to the back of his head with the image of you heavily pregnant.

The last word of his sentence came out between gritted teeth thinking of you waddling around the house with his baby in your stomach, the idea alone was enough to make him cum.

“Fill me up then baby, I want all of your cum.” You whispered in his ear nibbling on the lobe and earning another deep growl thankful he told Eijiro to give him twenty more minutes and he’s already used half just to finger you, foreplay was a big thing to him, making sure you cum on his tongue to get a taste of you and to prep you for his cock that stretched and split you open.

“You want to be my little cum slut don’t you?” He asked watching your eyes glaze over already.

“Yes, sir, please.” You whined fisting his shirt trying to buck your hips.

“Sir? Maybe that’s what I should just call you from now on, my little cum slut. I want to fill you up so much that it just oozes out but we have to get ready.” He got off the bed and looked down at you, your hand drifting your stomach.

“Ah, come on sweetie. This was your idea, we can’t cancel them. Be a good girl and when we get home I’ll reward you.” He murmured.

Katsuki helped you off the bed letting you walk past him but not before he slapped your ass. “What if I don’t want to be a good girl?” You asked in a pouty voice as you walked to the closet.

“Then you’ll get punished.” He called out watching you sitting on the bed wondering for a moment if a quickie could help his stiff dick, and the thought of your ass jiggling under his palm made him even harder somehow, you loved it when he used a bit of heat to weave together the small trace of pain that blended in with the pleasure.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” You shot back before coming out of the closet ready to go with a smile.

After you both were ready Katsuki called Eijiro who pulled into your driveway honking loudly with Sero and Denki who sat in the backseat already tipsy and music blasting from the speakers.

“I picked these two idiots up who pre-gamed at their house,” Eijiro said when Katsuki opened the door for you to slide into the passenger’s side but not before Denki pouted. “Sit with us!” He cried grabbing your wrist and pulling you into the car gently.

“Kaminari! I could’ve hit my head.” You cried landing in his lap with a giggle, your husband’s friends were also yours, and he knew that they would never cross the line but sometimes they sure do love to step on it sometimes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll kiss it and make it feel better.” He shot back.

Katsuki turned in his seat glaring at Denki. “I suggest you shut the fuck up Kamanari before I blow you to hell and keep your hands off my woman.”

“I feel like I have four children instead of one,” Eijiro murmured looking at the three of you in the backseat once you were settled between Sero and Denki Katsuki wanted to turn around and them to stop messing with you but he knew they meant no harm still knowing that you were with them and not him made him regret not putting you in the front seat, to begin with, but hearing you laugh was enough to make him stop.

As soon as Eijiro put the car in park Katsuki was already out and pulling you from the backseat once Denki got out first making sure to smack him upside the head and kick Sero in the ass sending them off toward the club.

“Go ahead, we’ll catch up.” Katsuki ignored your cry and waved his friends off, once they were out of earshot he pulled you to the back of Eijiro’s car.

“What are you doing?”

“Showing you just who you belong to.” He replied like it wasn’t obvious.

“Huh?”

With his hand on your back and shoulder, he turned you around so you were bent over the trunk of the car.

“Katsuki! What-” He stopped you mid-sentence lifting your dress up and revealing your bare ass, large hands cupped the supple flesh squeezing and kneading, he stayed quiet behind you while his fingers trailed between your legs grazing your pussy making your knees buckle.

“Remember that you’re my wife, seeing you like that made me want to kill them” He broke off to sink two fingers inside your cunt, “this messy pussy is mine to fuck and suck and fill with my cum. Right?” He asked knowing the answer.

He brought down his hand slapping your ass leaving a stinging sensation behind before giving you a chance to answer. “Mhm! Kats!” You yelped trying to swat his hands away but he gripped your wrists and pinned your arms behind your back.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes!” You cried lifting your face from the cool metal of the trunk to look at Katsuki who was unzipping his pants and making sure no one was around, the last thing he needs is the media to catch wind of him fucking his wife in public, thankfully the car was in the darkest part of the parking lot.

“Yes, what?”

“Only you can suck and fuck and fill me up with cum, only you baby!” You whined wanting him as bad as he wanted you, the passion and chemistry was off the charts between you two, like iron striking iron there were sparks.

“Good girl.” He praised stroking himself seeing how wet you were under the harsh artificial light from the street lamp, a mewl parted your lips when you felt him spit on your cunt only to rub it in before he ran the tip of his cock between your lips before shallowly thrusting in a few times before bottoming out.

You felt so full when he stilled letting his ti[ kiss your cervix almost as if he was trying to reach your womb, the thickness and length of him never failed to make your head dizzy, especially in a position like this, it was amazing every time, the pain you welcomed because it always swirled in with pleasure that always topped everything else you felt.

His hand snaked up your shirt rubbing small circles in the small of your back. “So tight ‘f me, you’re such a good little cock sleeve aren’t you?” Katsuki grunted gripping your hips and digging his fingers into your skin.

“Yes! Please don’t stop! You feel so good, baby!” You whimpered backing your ass up on him knowing he was watching your ass jiggle.

He glanced down watching him slide in and out of you, the wet sucking of your pussy made his balls tighten up. Picking up the pace Katsuki bent his knees changing the angle. His fingers released your wrists to take purchase on your hips instead of bruising the tender flesh feeling how soft and plump you were under his touch.

“Going to cum so deep inside you-oh fuck- keep squeezing like that sweet girl, going to make sure to bred you as you deserve, always ‘s good for me.”

With a few more thrusts your climax burst open, and your walls spasmed and creamed on Katsuki’s dick leaving a white ring around his shaft moaning his name into the metal of the trunk whimpering his name.

His hips stilled for a moment burying himself further, neither of you could care of the consequences if someone were to see what you two were doing, flesh slapping against flesh, the creaking sounds of the car, or the loud pants from both of you.

“Kats!” You mewled feeling him cum deep in you, his head pressed against your cervix while slowly rocking his hips against you trying to keep it all inside.

“You okay?” He asked when he helped you up and straightened your dress pulling it down before kissing your head and letting you rest against him coming down from your high.

Once you were inside you went to the bathroom to clean up before joining the guys who were already seated with drinks as your husband watched your every single move.

“Thanks, baby.” You sighed sitting next to Katsuki, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pressed a chaste kiss to your temple, the smell of your perfume and sweat and sex wafted from you along with the fucked outlook in your eyes had him hard again but that would have to wait until later.

“Did you want to dance?” He whispered in your ear watching you look at the crowded dance floor, people gyrating against each other grinding to the music, with colorful lights shot from the ceiling thankfully he was able to spot a place on the floor where no one would recognize him.

“Yes, let’s go.”

“See you later fellas,” Katsuki said before leaving, he winked at his friends and let you drag him to the dance floor where he spun you around to press your back against his chest, both of his hands rested on your waist feeling your ass grind against him.

Snaking your arms around his neck your head fell back on his shoulders losing yourself in the moment, the soft touches of his fingers that trailed up your thigh sent waves of ecstasy through you buzzing all around, the beat of the music only amped the feeling coursing through the both of you.

Everyone melted away leaving just the two of you in a small bubble, turning in his arms you wrapped your arms around Katsuki’s neck pulling him in closer against you, his hands on your lower back while his eyes burned into yours intently.

Your heartbeat roared in your ears pushing away the music that slowly faded away until the only sound you could hear was the slow beat of your heart. All the love you feel for Katsuki poured from your lips that slotted against his in a soft kiss. “I love you, baby.” You whispered.

“I love you too sweetie.”

“Whew!” You giggled sitting back down at the booth next to Denki who handed you yet another shot.

“It’s so hot in here.” You whined fanning yourself leaning against your husband before peeling yourself off his shoulder, his warm body too much for you right now.

“Are you ready to go?” Eijiro asked everyone at the table, and all of them agreed but you weren’t ready to go just yet.

“Actually can I go order a water and dance one more time?” You turned to Katsuki and Eijiro blinking owlishly with a sweet smile making both of them groan, but you knew they couldn’t say no to you, especially your husband.

“One more then I’ll take you home, babysitter just called me to tell me Haruka keeps crying for me.”

“You’re such a good dad, Eijiro! Haruka loves you so much!” You gushed before standing up and kissing Katsuki on his cheek who watched you head to the bar noting the way your dress clung to the curve of your ass.

“You really got lucky,” Denki said looking at the same thing Katsuki was before tearing his gaze away knowing his friend would actually blow him to hell.

“Excuse me! Can I get a glass of water?” You asked the bartender who smiled and nodded his head, you sighed and sat on the barstool exhausted from all the dancing.

“You sure you don’t want to try the house special?” A voice rang out from beside you, turning your head you looked at the man who sat next to you. Swallowing you smiled and looked over at him, tall and kinda lanky but still cute with hair that was mused from him running his fingers through it.

“I think I’ve had enough. Thank you though, but is it good?”

He smiled and turned to face you, his eyes bright and wide, the most beautiful color of purple you’ve ever seen took in your tight dress before settling on the swell of your breast.

“It’s alright, this place was recommended to me. Do you come here often?” He asked in a voice that felt like you were eating smooth chocolate.

“I sure hope that isn’t your pickup line.” You snorted throwing your head back.

“No, I usually recite a poem.”

“Let’s hear it.” You gave him the time only because you felt a little tipsy, but nothing to the point where you couldn’t handle yourself.

“Roses are red, violets are fine, you be the six and I’ll be the nine.”

Your loud laugh caught everyone’s attention. “Sorry!” You told them and turned back to the man next to you who was laughing.

“That’s a good one.”

He quirked an eyebrow before tipping his beer back. “Did it work?”

“Not on me.” You replied grabbing your water from the bartender showing him the rock on your finger and hearing the man mumble a ‘Too bad’

“Is everything okay sweetie?” Katsuki asked placing a hand on the back of your neck leaning into you staring at the man sitting next to you.

“Oh, yes, I got my water.”

Katsuki saw the way the man was staring at you which only made his blood boil, he knows his friends are just playing and teasing, but a stranger? He didn’t like this one bit, his brash nature bubbling to the surface, the part of him Katsuki tried to mellow out but when it came to you he would kill anyone and burn the world down if you asked. “Are you ready to go?”

“Give me a second.” You drank your water before putting it down and waved at the man before walking away with Katsuki who kept asking you who that was hearing you tell him to all but to stop with the questions.

“Then why do you look like you just developed a crush?

“What?” You cried pressing your cold fingers to your face finding relief for your hot flesh that burned under the steady gaze of your husband who opened the back door of Eijiro’s car for you, he slid in next to you and placed his hand on your knee but stayed silent for the entire car ride up until he shut and locked the front door and kicked his boots off.

“Why are you so pissed?” You asked slipping your own shoes off with one hand on the wall for balance but he still ignored you as he walked towards the bedroom.

“Really?” You followed him and watched while he sat on the bed removing his jacket.

“So, you’re going to ignore me?” You asked crossing your arms over your chest but Katsuki grabbed your wrist pulling you down on his lap.

“Get naked.”

“What?”

“Did I stutter? Get naked.” He growled hooking a finger in each strap of your dress and pulling it down your shoulders slowly only to drag his fingertips back making random patterns, you shimmied out of the dress bunching it around your waist.

You looked at him feeling your pussy all but clench and gush, seeing this side of him made you fall more in love with him, he knew you weren’t flirting with the stranger but he didn’t appreciate the fucking look he gave you.

Katsuki cupped your breasts in his hands pressing them together. “Just wait until your tits fill with milk, I can’t wait to suck them dry.” He murmured nuzzling his face between them before pulling away to look at you.

“Get on your hands and knees on the bed but make sure you look in the mirror.” He demanded giving the fat of your thighs a slight squeeze.

Scrambling out of his lap you crawled onto the mattress and got into position facing the mirror hanging from the back of the bathroom mirror, your hair was all mused and the mascara you applied earlier smudged under your eyes, cringing at your reflection you watched Katsuki get behind you shirtless, he held your gaze in the mirror and watched as he pulled your dress down to your knees. He moved back to stare at your cunt with a lazy grin.

“So pretty, I can’t wait to see my cum seeping from your pussy.”

His words made you clench around nothing making Katsuki laugh a little before spitting on your pussy that still seeped his cum from earlier, harsh fingers rubbed the saliva in tracing your slit barely prodding the tense muscles, a whine parted your lips feeling two fingers thrust inside stroking and curling, he watched your face in the mirror seeing how you bit your lip with closed eyes gripping the blanket below.

His fingers brushed your g-spot gently massaging making you cry out which he loves. Watching you come undone for him and become so submissive for him made him hard, or when you want to take control and boss him around, something about it gave him the world’s biggest hard-on.

Removing his fingers from you he watched and made sure you were looking in the mirror to see him suck on his fingers that were drenched in your slick, his eyes rolled in the back of his head tasting you, Katsuki got off the bed quickly, and pulled his pants off then joined you again this time settling his hips against your ass. “Keep watching, I want you to see how much you love taking my cock.”

In a slow single thrust, Katsuki bottomed out feeling your cunt open wider for him molding around his cock, walls gripping him so perfectly. Both of you let out low groans. “Mhm! Katsuki!” Hearing you moan he gripped your hips and rocked slowly against you,

“Watch.” He demanded grabbing a handful of your hair and pulled your head up, you frantically looked in the mirror and let him pull you against him, pressing your back to his chest, the fingers that held your hair found themselves in your mouth.

“You look so cute being fucked, you know that? And you especially look cute covered in cum, like a little cum rag.”

All you could was nod your head and suck on his fingers, saliva dripping down his hand but neither of you could care. Katsuki slowed the pace easing in and out of your dripping pussy creating lewd noises, his lips by your ear whispering dirty things that made you whine against the digits in your mouth. “I’m going to make sure you never think about anything else again, only my cock as you bounce on it. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Yeth!”

Your reply made him chuckle hearing you pant and moan for him. His slick fingers trailed down your body between your breasts then over your stomach all the way down to your clit which he pinched and then rubbed in slow circles. “Look at how compliant you are sweetie, melting under my touch. Would you do that for anyone else?”

“No! Only you!” You cried feeling the pressure in your stomach begin to crack, your orgasm riding dangerously high.

“Fuck! Kats! I-” With one last stroke of your clit you came walls pulsating ripping Katsuki into his first climax. He groaned pushing you back down on the bed to stroke himself inside of you filling you with his cum again. Once he collected himself he flipped you to your back. His eyes were full of lust and want, Katsuki grabbed both legs tightly holding them open.

“Open your pretty mouth, sweetie.”

Parting your lips you felt him release your leg to scoop the mixture of cum leaking from your cunt, “Mhm.” He murmured pulling his fingers apart watching the cum string between them before sticking them in your mouth, the taste of him and you heavy on your tongue. You were so entranced with the staring contest you barely felt anything else but when he thrust into you again harder this time your eyes rolled to the back of your head, fingers wrapped around his wrist as you sucked harder.

Katsuki fucked you rough, every drive of his hips made your tits bounce, you moaned and writhed under him bucking your hips to meet his both of you moaning each other’s names lost in pleasure, the feeling of being connected in such a way left you breathless as you stared up at your husband, his blonde hair falling over his forehead, eyes barely open and lips parted. He looks so beautiful and primal.

You moaned cumming again. “Already?” Katsuki teased. All your muscles tightened painfully before you creamed around his dick, leaving the creamy ring he loved so much especially to see you lick his cock clean after fucking you but this time he wanted to keep it inside you.

Katsuki collapsed onto you sweaty and panting trying to catch his breath while making sure he didn’t crush you under him. “I’m pretty sure my legs are rubber at this point.” You giggled turning your head to look at him, he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles.

“A reminder that you’re my wife.”

“You don’t have to remind me, Kats, I know I’m your wife and I love you.”

“I know, I love you too I’m just selfish when it comes to you.” He said in a soft tone pulling you into his side letting his rough fingertips rub your bare back until you both were ready to take a bath and fall back into bed.

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thepenultimateword · 3 months

Text

Sugar and Spice

Henchman dusted the flour off his hands and gave the spiced apple mixture a quick stir. Looked like the juices were releasing nicely with the sugar. This should be a perfectly gooey filling once he finished the crust.

He set out the first pie pan and had just picked up the dough when the double kitchen doors shrieked open. "Henchman, you're needed in the weapons room for cleaning."

Henchman barely gave Other Villain a glance. "Um...no?"

"Excuse me?"

He pressed the pie dough into the pan and took up a knife to trim the excess. "I'm supposed to finish 12 pies before dinner. If I leave the kitchen, I won't meet my deadline. Besides, weapons isn't my department."

"You're department is doing what you're told."

"And if Supervillain doesn't get his pies for the dinner tonight are you going to take responsibility?"

Other Villain's whole body quivered, and the next sentences came out through gritted teeth as if holding herself back from exploding. With her combustion abilities, she just might be. "The weapon's combat team failed another mission. They've been entirely dispatched. If you don't want to follow in their footsteps, I suggest you listen to your superior before I report you for insubordination."

Henchman sighed heavily but set aside the trimmed crust and ran his hands under the sink faucet, scalding away all the crusted flour. He hated it when people pulled the "villain" card. As if the title meant anything more than their abilities being active rather than passive. But until big bosses like Supervillain stopped treating combat abilities as the bar for worth, Henchman couldn't do much about the system's power dynamics. "Can I expect help? I can't spare more than an hour."

Other Villain gave a self-satisfied smile, quickly followed by an annoyed glance at Henchman. "I'll attempt to siphon help from a few other departments, but it may take some time."

Henchman sighed again. "Of course." He placed the bowl of apples in the fridge, pulling his apron over his head and hanging it on the wall hook on his way out the door.

Luckily, all the dough and the fillings were finished, and the oven could fit several pans at a time. He didn't have much faith in Other Villain finding him help--she'd always looked down on the culinary department's contribution even while happily scarfing down booster gelatin before each training session--but perhaps if he gave the weapons room the bare minimum he could make it back before dinner.

That hope disappeared as soon as he entered the weapons room. It was like no one had cleaned it once since the organization was established. Pockmarked targets and half-crushed practice dummies strewed the room. Weapons stuck into walls or laid discarded on the floor. Some were even dispersed throughout the tiered seating area. Henchman scooped up a scimitar by its hilt. Tsking as he twirled it in his hand. They didn't even properly clean--Was that blood?

Henchman dropped the weapon with a loud clatter. His insides chilled as he took in the rust-colored flecks spattering the flat of the blade. Not so much like a weapon that had met flesh as one that had tasted the aftermath of its owner's demise before it could even defend them. Similarly colored smears decorated the walls and flooring.

Other Villain's comment about the latest weapons team's fate rang through Henchman's mind, and suddenly the mess didn't seem so much their fault. Henchman didn't want to think about what actually went down here, and even if he did he shouldn't dare.

Ok, Henchman. Get in, get out, bake your pies.

First thing first, collect all the weapons dispersed throughout the room. Henchman picked up a pair of spears, wrenching one out of a thick practice mat with a spray of foam. He sighed. More mess.

He threw down the spears against the wall and moved for a half-crumpled metal shield. Did Supervillain come personally? No, don't think. That wasn't his job. As much as he hated Other Villain's attitude, she wasn't entirely wrong. His job was to do what he was told, with as little inquiry as possible.

He found an empty quiver at the top of the bleachers, the arrows scattered in tiny pieces among the seats. He'd have to get a broom for those later. But where was the bow? He ducked down to peer under benches but other than a snapped bow string and some close-up splatter that was definitely blood, he found nothing. Maybe it got thrown to the bottom when Supervillain...did what Supervillain did to "parasites."

Henchman skipped the steps two at a time, picking up a dagger teetering haphazardly over the edge of a bench along the way. He jumped down to the training mat with a loud POFF! Loud enough that he didn't notice the sound of the door opening until the flame-haired figure was almost right in front of him. Her hair was pulled into its usual thick braid crown, wound and wound like an endless coil of rope. Meanwhile, she stood on edge, a dog ready to attack, double-colored eyes flicking rabidly around the room. Finding Henchman the room's sole occupant, they eventually settled hungrily on him.

Henchman's heart skipped a beat, clutching the dagger in both hands, tip down, in front of them. "Sir? Er, Ma'am? Villain?"

The green eye looked ready to skin him, while the brown one spun webs of thought.

"Did...Other Villain send you?" Henchman could cringe at the ridiculous question, Villain outranked Other Villain by about a quadrillion stations, but he couldn't think of any other reason why she would be here.

"You're a henchman, right?" she said.

"Um...yes?"

Her gaze flicked to the dagger in his hands, and she turned on heel back toward the door. "Come with me."

Henchman blinked. What was up with villains being bossy today? Well, he took pissing off Villain much more seriously than Other Villain. Maybe she had further instructions for dealing with this mess. Or maybe he wasn't supposed to see this mess, and she'd been sent to deal with him. In any case, he couldn't say no, so he trailed numbly after her into the hall.

She didn't stop there, leading him around several bends, all the way to the stairwell, and down several flights of stairs. When they emerged they were on ground level.

Henchman scrambled to keep up with her stride out the door and into the parking lot. "Um, eminence," Henchman panted, finally remembering the correct title, "do you need help carrying some things upstairs? I could call you a couple runners if you need."

Villain popped open the passenger door to a steel blue coupe. "Get in."

Henchman obeyed on instinct. "Um--"

Villain closed the door on his question, circling around the front of the vehicle and sliding into the driver's seat. She jammed the keys into the ignition and roared the engine to life.

"Wait, are we leaving?" Henchman exclaimed, jolting out of his dronish obedience. Cleaning the weapons room was one thing, but leaving the building to who knew where was another. He really didn't want to be killed for completing neither of his responsibilities today.

"We have somewhere to be," Villain said, eyes fixed straight ahead as she wove through the lot. As she turned out on the main road, the car went from 10 to 100 in a matter of seconds. "A mission."

"But I have work!" Henchman yelped, the acceleration pressing his back into the warm leather seat.

"Not anymore."

"But Supervillain--"

"Has different orders."

Henchman tried to unravel that statement. Supervillain had never wanted him on a mission. This had to be some sort of mistake.

"You're sure?" he said. "Supervillain wants me to go with you?

"Yep."

"Because you kind of made it seem like you didn't know who I was?"

"I don't, I'm working off descriptions."

"Henchman?" Henchman offered. "Did he say Henchman?"

Villain lifted one hand off the wheel, pointing at him with a little knowing tongue click. "That's the one. You're my support."

"Oh." Henchman took a few quiet moments to swallow that. Support made more sense. Maybe this was some sort of away mission. Henchman's bakes didn't pack as much oomph when they were stale, so maybe Supervillain had sent him along for optimum power. It must be something really important if that were the case. But then why didn't anyone inform him? Did Other Villain send him to the weapons room out of spite, hoping he wouldn't be told in time? "What's the mission?"

"Hero agency infiltration. One of the big ones. We're going to have fake identities, safe houses, everything."

Henchman frowned. That sounded like a mission with lots of planning involved, not a spur-of-the-moment run-out-the-door sort of thing. "Is it far?"

"Very far." Villain turned sharply onto the highway's entry ramp. "And top secret. So you can't call anyone."

Henchman's insides twisted. He didn't get this far in a villain organization without being able to feel when something was off. But he also didn't get this far by asking too many questions.

"Ok."

Villain didn't say anymore after that. Henchman half pondered asking if he should turn on some music but decided against it. He leaned his head back against the seat rest, taking in the rumble of the engine and the muffled whip of the wind along either side of the car's sleek body. Villain breathed from her side of the car, but he tried not to think to hard about that. He'd barely interacted with her more than a handful of times, and only ever in passing or with a group. None of which he expected her to remember. Supervillain knew who he was because he knew how to utilize him. Villain didn't need to know any of that to do her job, which was to be the most lethal weapon in Supervillain's arsenal.

Henchman struggled against heavy eyelids, the soothing glide of the car and the exhaustion of the day hitting him all at once. He'd been prepping those pies for hours before Other Villain interrupted him. The apples were going to go bad if he wasn't back in a couple days. He couldn't even call one of the other chefs to finish them for him with this no-call rule, not that they'd have full effect without him doing each step anyway.

He yawned widely.

What sort of things...did Villain...like...?

Henchman didn't remember dozing off, but when he came to, the sky was dark and his face was pressed up against his window.

"I'm going to make you clean that glass," Villain said.

Henchman raised his head drowsily, squinting at the drool smear for several long seconds before shooting up completely straight in his seat.

"I'm sorry!"

Villain rolled her eyes. "You don't need to grovel about it." She pushed open her door and stepped out into the night. "Anyway, we're here."

"Here?" Henchman said, quickly getting out after her.

Villain nodded at the building with its glowing red overhead sign: Azure Inn. "Hotel."

"This is our safe house?"

"This is on the way to the safe house," Villain said, then shooting him a glare. "Stop asking so many questions."

Henchman bit his lip to stop from asking how much further they had to go tomorrow or where they even were now. He simply trailed her into the office as she purchased their room--two twin beds--and then continued after her to room 109.

Everything was blue. Curtains, bedspreads, carpets; it was no wonder how the hotel got its name.

Villain headed straight into the bathroom and Henchman plopped down on one blue bed stretching his long legs to the end with a soft groan as his thoughts wandered once again to the kitchen. This time to the pie dough, sitting in the open air in its tin. It was probably dry by now. His eyes flicked to the wall clock. 12:20 a.m. Supervillain's dinner was over by now too. How did they manage?

The bathroom door creaked, and Villain stepped into the main room, long hair loosed on her shoulders, framing her face in a thick, kinked mane.

Henchman's heart skipped a stupid beat.

As if hearing it, Villain's eyes whirled in his direction, pinning him to the mattress like finely whetted blades. "What are you doing?"

Henchman slowly pushed himself upright."Going...to bed?"

"You're support; you need to keep watch."

"For what?"

"For heroes, moron!" she snapped.

Henchman flinched. "Oh. Right. Um. They know we're coming?"

Villain stormed across the room, yanking back the covers and throwing herself violently onto her mattress. “We don't know, but it's better to be safe than sorry. You already slept in the car, so just stay awake until morning.”

“Right.” Henchman watched Villain snuggle beneath the covers locks of hair fanning like licking flame across her pillow. He cleared his throat. "One more question."

Villain sighed. "What?"

"What do you expect me to do if a hero does show up?”

“Fight them?” she said in a tone that reeked of suspicion that Henchman might actually be stupid.

“Ha, yes, that would seem obvious,” Henchman replied, attitude sneaking into his own tone. “If I knew how.”

Villain shot upright. “What?”

“Combat isn’t my speciality.”

“But you’re a combat henchman!”

Henchman furrowed his brow. “Nooo.”

"What do you mean? You were in the weapons room!”

"Yeah, because Supervillain killed them all! And apparently there was no one else around to clean up the mess!”

“He…?” Villain drew up her knees, leaning her elbows on the caps and rubbing her thumbs hard into her temples. “No, no, no, no. He’s further ahead than I thought. Has he already…? No. Maybe…”

“Villain?”

She jerked her head sharply toward him. "What do you do?"

Henchman wet his lips, the sheer contrast of Villain’s expectations, of this entire mistake, hitting him all at once. He looked down at the mattress sheepishly. “I bake."

Part Two

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindonessy @psychiclibrariesquotestoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516 @tobeornottobeateacher @talesofurbania1 @sweetsigyn @girl-of-the-sea-and-stars @kurai-hono-blog

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gimmeurtmi · 1 year

Text

audience — 2min

pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader feat. lee minho

tags: established relationship, dom/sub dynamics, threesome, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, exhibitionism, wet dreams, tiny mention of attack on titan, brief mention of covid, government mandated isolation, degradation kink (like, huge one!), sub!reader, dom!minho, softdom!seungmin, use of words like “baby, dumb, little girl, good girl, stupid, dumbass”, spanking, light choking, fingering, multiple orgasms, minho is an ass man we know, i really really lost my mind here guys. i will never get it back.

inspo: requested by anon! who is also now my fav person. *whispers back* how do you feel about min & y/n (ft. another member of your choice) engaging in exhibitionism 🧐 y/n has a wet dream about said member and it’s kept her restless and horny — obviously seungmin takes note and asks whats going on and y/ns all like nooo youre gonna think im weird and i feel bad i don’t want you to hate me but he’s quick to shut that down and reassures her that he’s into it too because no matter what y/n will always belong to him

notes: when i read this request i had two ideas. this, surprisingly, is the tamer one. if y’all want might write a part two with that second much more unhinged idea. rbs and feedback are appreciated 🫶🏻

{ wc: 5195 }

You woke up in a sweat, remembering bits and pieces of your dream. It was sexual, extremely sexual—beyond anything you’ve ever done in your real life. You were in the middle of a house party, fucking someone on the couch while everyone was watching and cheering you on. They were making suggestions at the pair of you, and your partner was taking every idea to heart. What names to call you, what position to put you in, if he should let you cum or not.

It was so dirty and so good.

When you woke up and quickly went to pee you realised your panties were completely soaked through, and so were your pyjamas.

You quickly hopped in the shower, cleaning the mess off your thighs and getting ready for the day.

As you were brushing your teeth you couldn’t help but replay the parts you remembered from your dream, your thighs clenching as you thought about how deep he thrust inside you. And then suddenly an image came into your brain. You knew it wasn’t your boyfriend, Seungmin, who was fucking you in the dream. But you didn’t think you’d remember the face of who it was. And then you did.

It was Minho.

Minho, your boyfriend’s roommate and best friend. Who you never even considered you could have a wet dream about.

You felt shame take over your skin as you walked into the living room, needing something to drink to cool you down.

It wasn’t like you never had wet dreams. You had them quite often, and they weren’t often about your boyfriend either. He found it hilarious when you would wake up and tell him all about the sex you were having with your favourite anime character, or the blow job you just gave to the actor from whatever show you were watching.

You never thought you’d dream about anyone you knew in real life, let alone someone who was so close to you. So close to your boyfriend.

After you finished your breakfast you stood by the sink to wash up after yourself, a pair of hands snaking around your stomach from behind.

“Where did you go?” Seungmin’s soft voice whispered down your ear, still coated with sleep.

“Oh, I just wanted some food,” you excused.

“You were making those noises in your sleep again,” you heard more than saw his smirk, “did Levi fuck you good this time?”

“What? No! What are you talking about?” You escaped from his grip, getting your bottle and filling it with water. It was full already, so you dipped the whole container down the drain and then refilled it—just to save yourself from having to look at Seungmin with how warm your face felt at his question.

He knew you too well.

“Was it Mikasa, then?” He raised his eyebrows in glee.

“Shut up,” you chuckled at him.

“I wanna hear the dream,” he whined at you, “they’re always so good.”

“Pervert,” you shifted the attention to him, or more like tried. You knew how stubborn he could get, and your boyfriend wouldn’t stop until he heard the story. You wondered if you could get away with lying to him about the subject of your fantasy.

“Okay, fine. But you can’t judge!” You sent him a warning finger. Seungmin smiled at you, crossed his heart with his finger, and waited enthusiastically to hear more.

“I was at a party fucking someone in front of everyone else,” you said quickly. You couldn’t quite meet his eyes, but you still saw the expression on his face. Bewilderment and horniness and a hint of pride were the only emotions you could see.

“Everyone else?” He promoted, taking a step closer to you.

“Yeah, they were like… cheering and stuff.”

“Cheering?” You nodded.

“So,” his voice dropped to a whisper, his lips by your ear, “the whole room was domming you?”

“Yeah, something like that,” you sighed.

“Fuck,” he grabbed your hips, squeezing them. “No wonder you were so loud this time. Sounds like a really good dream.”

You looked up into his eyes, his pupils swimming with lust as he licked over his lips. Maybe Seungmin liked that fantasy as much as you did—even though neither of you have ever talked about something like that before.

His fingers slipped under your baggy shirt, gripping your skin.

“Didn’t think you liked an audience,” he said, planting a soft kiss by your ear.

He felt your cheek heating up, noticed how you weren’t even teasing him back. So he moved in front of your face, cocking his head to the side.

“Why are you shy, bubs?” You didn’t answer. “I’m sorry,” he pulled away from you, noticing you were extremely stiff now, “I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“No, Minnie, it’s fine!” You promised him quickly. “I’m just… embarrassed.”

“From me?” He almost gasped.

“The dream in general. It was so vivid and hot and,” you sighed, finding the kitchen floor so extremely interesting.

“Then why are you embarrassed? You have hot dreams a lot, they’re the highlight of most of my mornings,” he smiled at you. “Who was it?”

You felt your heart drop. You couldn’t possibly tell him. It was weird, and wrong, and you were afraid it would upset him too much. “Uh, no one special.”

“Aw, someone else got to fuck my horny little girl,” he faked pouted at you. Seungmin honestly didn’t care at all that it wasn’t him in the dreams, because it was usually him who made them come true when you woke up. He just loved knowing what it was that got you all hot and bothered, even if the answer was sometimes a superhero or a fake lawyer or one time that guy from Atlantis.

“Don’t start,” you blushed, feeling the heat travel down your body and settle in your core at his nickname.

“Okay,” he conceded, “but you usually wake up really needy from these dreams so I thought I could help you out.”

“You’re so kind and selfless,” you teased, smirking at how he was suggesting it was only you that needed help—like you couldn’t see the semi in his shorts.

“I am those things, yes,” he smiled innocently at you.

“What are you?” Felix asked, entering the kitchen and going straight to the fridge. He took out a two litre bottle and started chugging it as he waited for your answer.

“I was just telling Minnie how he’s the cutest most beautiful boyfriend ever,” you smirked, as it was now your boyfriend’s turn to blush.

“Cute,” Felix smiled, before he started preparing his breakfast.

You jumped on the counter as the three of you started talking about the latest Marvel film and when you could all go and watch it, Seungmin slotting in between your legs as he faced Felix.

He hooked his hands under your knees as the conversation spiralled, his roommate not at all bothered by the physical affection between you two.

At this point you practically lived at the dorm, and were very used to the boys’ presence—as they were to yours.

When Jeongin woke up he didn’t even notice any of you in the kitchen until he started drinking his coffee.

Then he asked who wanted to join his shopping trip later this week.

“Can I come?” You asked eagerly, kicking your legs up around Seungmin’s body. He caught your calves up in the air then let you swing them back down, playing with your knees absentmindedly.

“Sure,” Jeongin smiled at you, taking a bite of the food Felix prepared for them.

“Yah!” You heard a shout down the hallway as the door opened then closed quickly. “You guys need to stop ordering so much shit!”

“It wasn’t me this time!” Felix yelled quickly, eyes wide as he looked towards the source of the voice.

Minho walked into the kitchen, five packages in his arms as a scowl painted his face.

He dropped them on the table with a bang, giving each of his roommates a death stare.

Jeongin happily ignored it, grabbing the first package on the pile and opening it with an excited dance in his seat. Then Seungmin walked away from you and picked up the other packages, tearing them apart quickly.

You realised you didn’t close your legs since he moved away. Minho was looking at you.

Your whole body was on fire as you watched him watching you, slowly moving closer to you. You couldn’t even look at him—even the smallest glance his way threw you straight back to your dream. The way he looked underneath you, the way he commanded the whole room as he touched you and f—

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, raising his eyebrows at you. He was right in front of you, reminding you to quickly shut your legs. “Move?”

“W-what?”

“You’re sitting in front of my blender,” he chuckled.

“Oh, oh yeah. Oh, of course. I’m so sorry, so sorry,” you jumped off the counter, extremely aware of Jeongin looking at you.

“Why is she being weird?” He half whispered at Seungmin. But the kitchen was small, and there was only you four in it anyway, and everyone could hear his question. It reminded you so much of the dream.

“I need to, um, I. Phone,” is all you managed, before you practically ran out of the kitchen and back into the room.

You groaned at yourself, sinking down into the bed as you tried to push the images from the dream away. It was impossible, and if you weren’t careful you’d ruin your new underwear in a matter of minutes.

A few seconds later, as you were still running your hands down your face, Seungmin walked into the room.

He plopped your phone down next to you.

“Your phone was in the kitchen, dumbass.” He sat down next to you, waiting for you to calm down.

“Okay, listen,” you started, taking in a deep breath.

“Your sex dream was about Minho and what Innie said got you so flustered because it was like your dream,” he confirmed, nonchalantly.

You gasped.

“I know you like the back of my hand, bubs,” he said when you just looked at him in shock before he kissed you softly.

“I’m sorry, Minnie, I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “I don’t control it and I know it’s wrong and I promise I feel nothing for him it’s not like that at all I—“

“—it’s fine,” he emphasised, making sure to look right into your eyes as he spoke. “I’m not jealous or mad or anything. It was actually extremely funny how flustered you got.”

“Min!” You yelled, slapping at his arm.

“Was that what you were moaning in your dream?” He smirked at you.

“Oh my god!” You groaned, covering your face as you fell onto your back. Seungmin crawled up your body, placing a hand on either side of your middle as he laughed.

Luckily for you, you weren’t faced with Minho again after that. Unluckily, it was because he got a confirmed test and was sent away to quarantine until he got better. Because of that, everyone that was in contact with him was forced into a five day isolation period—including you.

It wasn’t the first time you were isolating with your boyfriend, or his roommates for that matter, and so you happily just got on with your days in the house together.

Without the resident cook, you and Felix were in charge of feeding the others and Jeongin was in charge of complaining he was hungry after every meal.

“Why don’t you say thank you and just shut up?” Seungmin snapped after the third time, claiming he was disrespecting your efforts and he couldn’t stand for that.

Between video games and trying to work from home and the cabin fever, you were all actually doing pretty well. The only thing you had to complain about was the lack of privacy meant you didn’t have any alone time with your boyfriend, and worse of all, you never actually got to relieve the tension you felt since the dream.

So when you finished your work for the day and walked back into the room to see Seungmin on his phone, completely relaxed, you took your opportunity and climbed onto the bed.

You perched yourself right next to him, getting comfortable on your stomach, and tapped his chin.

“Kiss me,” you demanded. Seungmin laughed at you, locking his phone and discarding it on the bed before he followed your command.

His soft lips collided with yours as he brought a hand to your cheek, pulling you in closer.

You deepened the kiss, sighing against him as he put more force into his action—his tongue delicately licking your lips. You opened your mouth, moaning softly into the kiss as you relaxed against his chest.

“Oh wow, what a sight,” you heard a voice say behind you.

You jumped up, looking behind you to find Seungmin’s laptop was perched at the edge of the bed—and on it was an ongoing FaceTime call.

You only saw your reflection for a moment before you jumped up and turned around, and then you understood what the voice meant. Your ass was completely in view, leaving almost nothing to the imagination considering you were wearing your tightest pair of leggings.

And then you noticed who was sitting on the other side of the call.

“Sorry, hyung,” Seungmin said, bringing a hand around your shoulder, “I have to admit I forgot you were there.”

“Can’t blame you,” Minho chuckled. “You two get on with it, I can go.”

But he didn’t move.

“Wait,” you said quickly, “you were on your phone when I came in.”

“Yeah?” Seungmin shrugged.

“You were on FaceTime with Minho without even talking to each other?”

“I’m lonely,” Minho defended, “and I was just getting something to drink. I would’ve said something but I just got back and boom. Your ass was in my face.”

You covered your face in your palms.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Don’t need to apologise for having a nice ass,” he said, simply.

You slowly lifted your head from your hands, looking at your boyfriend to gauge his reaction. Seungmin did not take lightly to people commenting on you or your body—but he was laughing.

“You do have a very nice ass,” he said with a glint in his eyes, before he brought his hand down to your ass and squeezed it.

“Minnie! He’s still here,” you pointed out quietly.

At that, Seungmin grabbed your ass tighter before he leaned into your ear and whispered, “you can end the call now if you want. Or we can make a little part of your dream come true.”

You gasped into the air, your thighs clenching before you even realised you did that.

“What did you say to her?” Minho laughed, clearly recognising that type of reaction.

“Give us a second, hyung,” Seungmin said quickly, noticing you haven’t given any indication this was still okay. He leaned forward towards his laptop, his finger reaching for one of the keys, but you quickly spoke up.

“Wait, wait. Don’t end the call!”

“I was just going to mute us, bubs,” he said, turning to you with his eyebrows high.

“Oh, okay,” you said sheepishly.

He muted the call, turning to you with a curious face. You noticed Minho was kind enough to look at his phone in the meantime, giving you two some semblance of privacy.

“So?” He prompted.

“Are you suggesting we just have sex in front of him?” You asked bluntly, because there was no reason to beat around the bush anymore.

“Not if you don’t want to,” he shrugged. “If it gets you going we can just make out until he gets tired and leaves. Or if it’s just a fantasy then we end the call.”

“What.. uh, what do you think he’ll say?”

“Ask him,” Seungmin suggested.

You slowly reached over to the laptop, clicking the button to unmute yourself.

“Minho,” you said, swallowing the very little moisture that was left in your throat.

“Yeah?”

“Can we keep going?”

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded, his hand coming into view on his keyboard, “I’ll call Minnie tomorrow.”

“No, no,” you tried, causing Minho to raise his eyebrows, “what if you stayed. And watched.”

“Watched?” Minho gasped.

“You said you’re lonely and you’re probably bored,” you began, encouraged by Seungmin’s hand on your back, “if you want to we can entertain you.”

Minho’s eyes flicked over to Seungmin, studying his reaction. When he saw the small nod his friend gave him, he nodded back.

“I am extremely bored,” he said slowly.

You took one final look at your boyfriend, seeing the reassuring smile on his face before turning back to the screen.

“Anything you’d like to see?”

“Your ass,” he answered instantly. You laughed, nodding before you got back into your previous position, making a point of shaking your ass from side to side as you got comfortable.

Seungmin’s hand was in your hair in a matter of seconds, pulling you towards him as he kissed you hungrily. It was messy, sloppy, the kind of kiss he gave you when he was dying to do more.

But Seungmin wanted you to set the pace—do only what you wanted to when you had an audience.

This was new, and so fucking exciting, but he didn’t want to do anything that would unsettle you. So he just kissed you, tongue crashing against yours as he tugged on your hair.

You lifted off the bed slightly, just to get closer to Seungmin, in the process showing Minho your ass from the best angle.

“Minnie,” you moaned into the kiss, feeling the wetness pooling in your underwear. “He likes my ass.”

“Yeah, I think he made that clear,” he chuckled at you.

“Slap it,” you asked quietly.

“You sure?” Seungmin pulled away. You usually only asked him to do that when you were well and truly gone, only letting your desperation talk.

“Please,” you said, kissing his jaw, “I think he’ll like it.”

So your boyfriend complied. He brought his hand to your ass, squeezing it harshly before he slapped it.

It didn’t hurt too much, thanks to the layer between your skins—and the fact Seungmin didn’t use much force.

“That was pathetic, Seungmin,” Minho said. “You need to slap it like you mean it.”

Seungmin noticed the way you whimpered—and a huge smirk appeared on his face.

“Like this, hyung?” He asked, before landing his palm on you again, this time it was loud enough to bounce against the walls. It was hard enough to jolt your whole body forward.

“Ask her,” Minho ordered.

“Was that hard enough for you, baby?”

“Harder,” you whined. Seungmin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he did as you asked, landing another loud slap on your ass.

This time it stung, but not to the point of pain. You moaned.

“Yeah, I think she liked that one,” Minho chuckled.

You nodded quickly, looking up at Seungmin as you bit your lip.

“You’ll feel it more if I take this off,” he suggested gently, running a finger over the waistband of your leggings.

You didn’t even say anything, simply moved around until you managed to slip out of the soft material, whining at the way the air felt against your damp panties.

You could hear Minho sighing as your bare ass came into view.

“Why would you bother with underwear when it isn’t even covering anything?” He commented. Seungmin looked over your shoulder, observing Minho’s comment. Your thong really didn’t cover much.

He grabbed onto the pink string, pulling at it until it snapped back into place harshly.

You moaned again, arching your back before you quietly asked Seungmin to keep going.

He slapped your ass five more times, making you moan louder every time, before he grabbed your ass then rubbed his hand over the spot he hit.

He tapped your hip, urging you to move sideways on your knees—offering your ass up to him. He leaned down and kissed that same spot.

He then kissed down your ass, to the back of your thigh, and planted one small kiss on your core.

You almost forgot what was happening, what you were actually doing, before Seungmin grabbed your hips and moved you closer to the laptop.

He pushed your knees apart and chuckled.

“Look at that, hyung,” he said, almost proudly. “That wet patch is big.”

He ran a finger over your panties, from where the string sat snugly between your ass to your core, stopping at the entrance. He dipped his finger in as far as the fabric let him, causing you to buck your hips towards his hand.

“Aw, look,” Minho chuckled, “she’s needy.”

You moaned loudly at that, repeating the action with your hips.

“Minnie’s not being so nice to you, huh?” Minho asked, laughing lightly at how much you were pushing against Seungmin’s fingers.

“You think she knows it can’t go any deeper with her thong in the way?”

“She’s not very smart when she’s desperate,” Seungmin explained, “I don’t think she even knows it’s still on.”

The more they talked about you like you weren’t even there, the wetter you got. And Seungmin could feel it.

He knew you liked being talked down on, he knew you liked being called names, but he wasn’t too good at that. He tried, he always did, but the fear of getting carried away and hurting your feelings stopped him.

But now, with someone else chiming in and feeding your fantasies, he didn’t think he’d have to say much at all to hit the spots you craved.

He pushed his doubts to the side as he pulled you up to face him.

Minho slumped in his seat, upset to see your ass move away, but the next thing he saw was very much worth that slight disappointment.

Seungmin grabbed you by the throat, looking straight into your eyes as he said, “is my little girl all dumb for me?”

“Fuck,” was all you could say back.

“That didn’t sound like an answer,” Minho said.

Seungmin smirked as he saw your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head.

“Come on, baby. Minho wants you to answer,” Seungmin prompted, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Y-yeah,” you sighed.

“Yeah? Yeah, what?” Seungmin demanded, pressing his fingers into your throat for a moment.

“I get so dumb when I’m desperate for your cock, Minnie,” you groaned.

Seungmin smiled at you, leaning down to kiss you eagerly.

He ran his hands over your stomach, pinching your shirt in a silent question. But you didn’t respond, just pulled him closer to you by his neck as you kissed him harder.

Minho called your name, unsure if he was allowed to use any pet names with you, and got your attention.

“Can Seungmin take your shirt off?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nodded quickly, letting your boyfriend peel your shirt off and toss it to the side.

“See, Minnie, you need to use your words sometimes.”

“Hey,” you grinned at your boyfriend, “that’s what you always tell me to do.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” Seungmin chuckled at you.

He grabbed your hips, pulling you towards him when Minho coughed.

“You’re gonna just let her be a smartass?”

You both stopped.

Seungmin turned to the screen, letting one of his hands rub against your stomach.

“What do you mean, hyung?”

“If she talks back to you, you should put her in her place.” You swallowed. You looked between Seungmin and the screen, noticing both boys wore a huge smirk on their faces.

“Yeah, I probably should,” he mused, running his finger across your jawline. “She does misbehave a lot.”

“I do not!” You protested.

“Already proving your point, man,” Minho tsked.

“She’s so demanding too,” Seungmin shook his head, “like she really thinks she’s the one in charge.”

You blinked up at him.

“But as soon as I ask her what she wants she’ll just say ‘just give me what you want’ like the good girl she should be,” Seungmin said. He used a voice to mock you when he quoted your words, and it made your whole body shudder as you clenched hard around nothing at all.

Minho laughed. “I think she felt that.”

“Should I check how wet that made her?” He suggested, looking right at you.

You nodded quickly, excitement pooling in your stomach at the thought he was going to touch you.

“Shhh,” he said, sickingly sweet, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

You moaned at that, eyes squeezing shut as your body instantly reacted to those words, too. The want in your core had turned into an ache, so strong you were sure you would lose your mind soon.

You asked Seungmin for this exact thing so many times—and finally you were getting what you wanted.

“Careful what you wish for, huh, bubs?” Seungmin whispered at you, seemingly managing to read your mind again. You chuckled at him, pecking his lips softly before you let him bring his fingers to your core.

He pushed your panties to the side, dipping one finger into your entrance.

“Fuck,” he chuckled airily, pushing deeper in pure curiosity. “Baby, I don’t think you’ve ever been this wet for me before.”

“Please,” you sighed, basking in the stretch his finger provided. But it wasn’t enough. “Please, more.”

“What do you think, Minho?” You clenched at that, moaning softly. Seungmin laughed.

“How much more can she take?”

You didn’t say anything, unsure of if it was your turn to speak.

Seungmin moved around, placing himself behind you as he turned your body to face the camera, the only thing blocking Minho’s view was Seungmin’s hand cupping your core.

“Answer him,” Seungmin said, warning.

“I can take more,” you sighed, eyes fluttering shut as Seungmin pressed his finger deeper into you with every slow thrust.

“He didn’t ask if, he asked how much. Are you stupid or you just can’t listen?” Seungmin froze. He never used that word before, only dumb, and suddenly his whole body was tingling with adrenaline. He messed up, he got carried away and hurt your feelings, and in front of someone else, too. you were gonna hate him and—

“Fuck, Minnie, if you say that again I’ll fucking cum,” you whined loudly, dropping your head on his shoulder.

Instinctively he added another finger, pace quick and deep. But he couldn’t say anything. He was too spooked, unsure of how exactly to word a sentence with that word in it.

He looked at the screen, admiring your body, the way you pushed your chest forward as you leaned on his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and jaw hanging open.

He caught Minho’s face on the screen, eyes wide and hand silently gesturing for him to say something.

Seungmin sent him back a panicked look, only focusing on moving faster to make you cum.

So Minho took over.

“Come on, Minnie. Make her stupid cunt cum.”

Seungmin felt your walls closing in around his fingers, pulsing as you moaned loudly into his ear. You whined as he kept up his pace, helping you ride out your high, the electric current swimming all through your body as one of the strongest orgasms you’ve ever felt crashed into you. It didn’t stop, Seungmin relentless as he noticed your body wasn’t going limp like it usually did—another wave hitting you at full force.

When his hand started cramping he sucked on your exposed neck to distract himself which seemed to have backfired, as he felt your body reacting, another one shooting through your walls.

At one point or another you gasped out, pushing his wrist away from you.

“Okay, okay,” he kissed your cheek, stilling his hand inside you.

You panted heavily, your body covered in a layer of sweat as Seungmin lowered you both back onto the bed. He delicately pulled his hand away, grabbing a tissue and cleaning himself off as he gave you space to breathe.

He made sure to kiss your cheeks as you breathed, fighting the urge to wrap his hands around your middle because you didn’t like that when you were breathless. Finally, you spoke.

“Holy fucking shit.”

They both laughed.

“Does it always happen like that?” Minho asked, panting slightly himself.

“That has never happened before,” he laughed, kissing your temple. “You did so so well to take all that.”

“Yeah,” Minho agreed, “you did a really good job.”

You smiled sheepishly.

“Thank you for letting me watch,” he said, looking on as you signalled to your boyfriend that you were done.

“Thank you for helping. A lot,” you laughed.

You looked over at the screen and noticed a small white stain on the front of his shirt. “When did that happen?”

“Oh, some point during your ten minute orgasm,” he shrugged. You all laughed before you corrected him.

“Orgasms.”

“How many do you think that was?” Seungmin asked as he judged he could finally wrap his hands around you, leaning his chin on your shoulder.

“Maybe five?” You scrunched your nose, butterflies creeping into your stomach as both of them whistled in awe.

“New record!” He exclaimed, offering his palm out to you. You weakly gave him a high five.

“How are you feeling, Min?” You asked after the silence settled, as did your breathing.

“I’m okay—“

“I feel better—“

They both answered. Seungmin chuckled as he asked, “which one of us?”

“I meant Minho,” you giggled, “since he’s the one who’s sick.”

“I feel better actually, gonna do another test tomorrow to see if they’ll let me out of this prison,” he chuckled, taking a few sips from his water bottle.

“Yes, please come back soon. I’ve had enough of cooking for these guys,” you rolled your eyes.

Minho laughed at that, promising he’ll free you of your duties soon enough.

“You?” You turned your head lightly, cupping your boyfriend’s chin as you soothed your thumb over his skin.

“I’m glad you had so much fun. My hand hurts though,” he pouted. You brought his hand up towards your lips, kissing his wrist a few times before he nodded.

“And you, bubs?”

“Oh, I feel fucking incredible,” they laughed, “I kept telling you to be mean and you didn’t listen.”

“Well, now I know you were not kidding,” Seungmin exclaimed dramatically.

“I’m gonna go shower guys,” Minho said, running a hand through his hair, “make sure you drink a lot before you sleep, okay?”

The three of you bid each other good night, and once it was just the two of you again, Seungmin made sure to feed you and hydrate you and clean you before you cuddled until you fell asleep.

A few weeks down the line, the three of you were sat around the living room watching a movie Jisung recommended. During one of the montages, Seungmin spoke up.

“You know what I realised?” You both hummed. “During the six orgasms that happened that night, none of them were mine.”

The three of you laughed, Minho raising his eyebrows at you with a lopsided smile.

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planet-dusk · 10 months

Note

Umm... so this is a little emberrassing and I sincerly apologize if I made you uncomfortable but I was wondering how do you think skz will react to their s/o having a noncon kink? Or at least who is most to least likely be into that if their s/o was into that? Whichever you prefer. Ngl even though it is anonymous it's still baffles me that I am actually writing this because there are only three people who I told about this kink of mine and I still have this fear that they are judging me for it and I also kinda judge myself for it... soooo feel free to delete this ask.

hey bean,, i have a lot of cnc, dubcon and noncon works on my blog and this is not an uncommon kink to have even if it may not feel like it. you're not alone :)) the following are all cnc (consensual non-consent) scenarios:

i think leeknow and seungmin would be into cnc roleplay. they'd like to act out carefully crafted scenarios where you pretend to struggle, growing harder the more you cry. smudged makeup, making you choke on their cocks, degrading you for how wet you get when they're forcing themselves on you like this..... and of course they'd be amazing at the softest aftercare, too <33

chan would be into primal play: getting to turn off his busy brain for a moment and chase you around the house (or maybe even somewhere outside),, the taste of adrenaline almost palpable when he finally pins you down and fucks you full of his cum in a frenzy of teeth and growls 😵‍💫 i can also see him being into forced breeding,, where you pretend you're not on birth control and he fills you up over and over again to make sure it takes despite you begging him to pull out <33

han would be into somno. nothing would turn him on more than you taking what you want from him when he's asleep, be it sinking down on his cock or slipping two fingers past his tight rim to loosen him up for your strap. he'd love waking up in a mess of cum and spit 🤭 or being nearly asphyxiated, waking up gasping with your dripping pussy on his face ready for him to bury his tongue into :))

hyunjin would like it when you ignore his safeword and push him past the edge of overstimulation and beyond. of course he has a real safeword, but it's fun to pretend you don't care about his pleasure: forcing orgasm after orgasm out of his spent cock until he cums dry and the only thing he has left to spill is the endless stream of tears rolling down his temples ;(( the same goes for jeongin, but where hyunjin prefers to be on the receiving end, it's the younger man who enjoys watching you cry on his cock when he tells you this is what you wanted all along <33

felix doesn't want to admit it but he likes it when you whisper dirty things in his ear right before you leave together for a party. tell him everything you want him to do to you when you get back home and you're a little too out of it, letting him use your body as he pleases. he's always careful with you but he can't help his shaky hands when he gets to fuck your ass until you pass out :))

i think changbin would prefer a partner who's as enthusiastically into sex as he is, but i can see him enjoying a free use dynamic where he gets to use you anytime he wants <33 he's always so needy,, ready to go and bend you over any surface or have you sit under his desk to toy with his cock. anything will do as long as he gets to feel you one way or another <33

#answered #anonymous #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #skz hard hours #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #tw: cnc #;skz mtl

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satanprotectsme · 1 year

Text

Baby's First Heat

Alpha!Eddie Munson x Omega!Reader - Smut

A/N This is the first smut I'm posting onto here so I really hope it's okay!! There isn't much plot... but who cares!

Summary: With Eddie being a couple years older than you, he presented as an alpha a while ago. Along with your presentation as an omega, came your first heat. Eddie's there to coach you through it.

Warnings: A/B/O, pain kink, biting kink, piv sex, oral f!receiving, breeding kink, established relationship,

wc: 1.5k

⛧⛧⛧

I wasn’t been able to lull myself to sleep at all last night, my body incalescent. I tore my nightgown off, assuming it was just another torrid, Indiana night, until it got worse. There was hot, sultry, slick pouring out of my pussy. I reach my hand between my legs. I had no clue what was going on with me, but it was 2 in the morning, and that was the solution.

But now it's about 10 am, and I've been rubbing my dripping folds for hours. Mewls wrestling their way past my lips, racking my whole body along with them. I shove my face into Eddie's worn out Metallica t-shirt, tightly clamping my thighs together.

He only goes to school like, once a week, and it had to be today? My phone ringing startles me, making me hurtle myself out of bed. Pulling it to my ear, the voice on the other side makes even more slick pour between my legs.

"Sweetheart? You told me you'd be at school today, where are you? I only came to see-"

"Eds," I breathe. "Please come over, need you s' bad."

"Being horny is not an excuse to not come to-"

"I think I-I presented Eddie, please, it- it hurts so fucking bad," I sob, my biceps quivering at my feeble attempt to hold myself up.

"Oh shit, I knew something was up last night. Give me ten minutes, tops," the phone buzzed as he hung up. I couldn't hold myself upright long enough to place it on the reciever, the coil keeping it from slamming against the floor.

God, how could ten minutes feel like years? My humility dead and buried six feet under, I start to rut my weeping cunt on the duvet. My clit's red and raw, the knit fabric creating a throbbing feeling on my heat . Clamping the ear of my big teddy between my teeth, I try to hold back the pathetic noises from leaving my lips.

When I hear a tap on my window, I squeak. I reach over and unlock it, my body not having enough power to push it open for him. He crawls through, hurridly kicking his boots off.

"Fuck, your slick smells so sweet, nectarous, sweetheart " Eddie sighs, pulling me close. With one hand tangled in my hair, and one on my mound, he pushes me to the bed. “Shoulda’ called me earlier Omega, what if another Alpha smelt you from outside?”

“S-sorry Eddie,” I whine softly into his ear, he laughs softly.

“I bet you’d let any Alpha in here to satiate you, to imprint you with his scent, yeah?” He caresses my thighs, awaiting my response.

“No Alpha! Only wan’ you Eds, you‘re the only Alpha I want please!” I wail, grabbing his head and pulling him into me.

Our lips slam together, our teeth clashing in the process, but care and inhibition were thrown out the window. My heads fuzzy. Eddie’s musky, forest scent coalesces beautifully with my sweet, vanilla aroma, emobodying our dynamic. Unravelling our lips, they drift down to my neck, not hesitating to sink his canines into the flesh. His tongue traces the marks buried in my flesh. Deep, chocolate eyes, hazy with lascivousness, gaze up at me. "Can I taste you, baby?"

"Please Alpha! 'S all I want, please!" I whine, wrapping my fingers into his hair. Eddie pulls his jacket off and brings himself face level to my folds. As slick pours out of me, Eddie presses his face against my thigh, inhaling my aroma. He sucks a small, violet mark into my inner thighs, running his tongue higher and higher until he reaches my heat. When he flattens his tongue against my pussy, I can't help but to squeal, pushing Eddie's head closer to my cunt. A single tear rolling down my face, I wrap my legs around his head.

"You taste so fucking good, my Omega, taste even sweeter than you smell," He sighs before sucking my clit between his lips. His saccharine words make more slick release from my cunt, my body behaving without input. Pushing two fingers between my folds, his tongue flicks my clit back and forth in a hypnotic pattern. A moan gets caught in my throat when I feel his fingers bruise my g-spot.

I couldn’t tell if it was because of my desperate frenzy, but this was the best head he’s ever given me. With my hands tangled in his curls, I tug on his hair. He growls and bites down on my clit. I whimper and wrap my legs around his head.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum my alpha! Can I? Please?"

"Of course my Omega, cum all over my face," The second I process his permission, slick pours from my folds as I howl, grinding my cunt on his lips. My cum squirts from between my folds, spattering all over Eddie's face. He moans, eyes rolled back into his skull. "Good girl, my sweet and perfect omega."

"Thank you Alpha!" I pull him by his hair so I can press a hot kiss on his lips, something that had been overlooked until now. When my tongue tangles with his, I can taste my own cum. I whine into his mouth. He pulls away from me, unbuckling his belt. The second his clothes are off, I'm pulling him back into my embrace, yearning for the feeling of my alpha's skin against mine. He grinds his cock against my soaked thighs. I hold his shoulders, pushing my hips into his.

"You want this cock, Omega?" He growls into my ear. I whimper, hastily nodding my head. “Use your words, gorgeous.”

"Please Alpha! It hurts so bad! I need ur big cock stuffed inside of me! Need you to knot me and fill me with your babies! Please!” I beg and plead. Eddie just chuckles and starts pushing the tip in, finally mounting me. The insert definitely burns, his dick stretching my cunt to its limits, but the slick helped him slip in. When his sack pressed against me, he stills, licking away the tears that are streaming along my hot, roseate complexion. The hormones blurring his judgement, Eddie immediately starts thrusting his cock in and out of my cunt. The pornographic squelching sounds are almost as loud as my moans.

Enfolding me in his embrace, I scratch my nails down Eddie’s spine, he growls in my ear. My face buried in his neck, his musk deluging my senses, a thick fog clouding my senses. Barely holding my eyes open, I pull myself back, wanting to stare into Eddie’s eyes. His salacious gaze keeping me still, a smirk drawn perfectly on his lips. A primal growl leaves his lips as he reaches down to rub my clit.

"You're doing so good my little Omega, being such a good girl for her first heat," Eddie praises me. I nod, wanting to thank him, but all I can do is babble with each thrust of his hips. "Want me to mark you up? Imprint you so no other alpha will ever come near you? Want everyone to know you belong to me?"

"Please Alpha! C-claim me! Mark me with your scent!" I wail. A carnal, animalistic howl rips through Eddie's chest as he grips my waist, pulling me down onto his cock. I replace his finger, that was once on my clit with my own. "Fuck, Alpha! Can I cum? W-wanna cum all over your dick. Want you to fill me with your knot, please!"

"Cum for me, omega, gonna fill you up. My scent is going to be leaking off of you for days," With his permission, the speed on my clit is hurried, trying to rush myself to the edge.

"Thank you Alpha!" I moan, holding him close as I convulse. Wrapping my legs around him, I enclose him between my thighs, clasping him as his knot expands inside of me. Gasping for air, but it's all thick with aphrodesia, syrupy and saccharine with our mixing scents. A goofy smile takes over Eddie's lips, a stark contrast to the pointed smirk he's been wearing since he got here.

"We- uh- might be stuck here for a while," He chuckles, petting my hair. I look down, his knot bulging in my stomach. Eddie presses down on it, making me whimper and turn my head away from him. He leans down, whispering in my ear. "You're all mine now, my sweet, little omega."

"Just wan- be yours," I babble, my brain still incoherent, just happy to be claimed. "Thank you Eds," I whimper, a little smile matching my cloudy eyes.

"Of course sweetheart, but you'll have plenty of time to thank me, I don't think I'm leaving for the next few days."

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honeybeefae · 7 months

Text

Secretly Mine (Azriel x Eris)

Eris Week Day Three: Secrets

Summary// Eris is visiting the Court of Nightmares to keep in touch with things now that he is officially High Lord of Autumn. As he mingles he is introduced to a lovely vixen who, despite Eris's resistance, takes no hints to his distaste. While Eris tries to search for a way out he catches the eye of a Shadowsinger who is none too pleased about the wandering hands touching what is his, even if in secret.

(I love Azris. If I can’t have Eris I am more than happy to have him go to Azriel. Also sub Eris is HAWT. Writing this was so much fun if you know what I mean so I hope you guys enjoy it!)

WARNINGS: Smut, Secret Relationship, Dom/Sub Dynamics

Eris had never felt more uncomfortable in his life as Keir practically shoved the young fae woman into his arms, his tone dripping with satisfaction as he not so subtly brought up the woman’s accomplishments and marriageable age.

“Such a beauty, wouldn’t you agree?” He pursed his lips. “She’s the daughter of one of the elite here. Well-read, submissive, beautiful, everything a man could wish to have.”

“Oh, you boast too much, Keir.” She faked a laugh, turning to Eris with a sly smirk. “My name is Carina and you, my lord, need no introduction.” The bow she gave him was so deep that he could see right down her dress, which he was sure was the point. “I am honored to be in the presence of such a powerful man.”

“Two powerful men, right Carina?” Keir corrected, his jaw clenched from the slight of being forgotten. She nodded quickly, a bit of fear flitting through her eyes before she turned docile once more. “Of course! You know I could never forget you and all you have done for my family, Keir.”

“And it should stay that way.” He raised his glass though his tone was anything but calculated as he bid the two of them goodbye. Eris went to turn around, hoping she was distracted, but sighed when she latched on to his arm.

“And where do you think you are going, my lord?” She purred.

“I was just going to fetch myself a drink,” Eris replied cooly, trying to pull away which only seemed to cause her to sink her claws in deeper. “Did you need something?”

“A dance if you please, before you wander off and get stolen away from me.” Carina pouted her lips. “I would love to show you my moves…” Her fingernails ran up his arm suggestively and he had to resist the urge to cringe.

He looked around for anyone to save him, desperate for an out, but found none. Eris ground his teeth and forced a smile while holding out his hand, leading her out to the floor. The music was soft as he began to sway, hating the way her body pressed against his.

If he were being honest there was only one body he wanted to be pressed against and that person was somewhere hiding in the shadows, watching his every move. He could feel the skin on the back of his neck prickle as he tuned out the woman’s mindless chatter, spinning her so that he could do a sweep of the room.

It wasn’t until his second turn around the room that he finally spotted the Shadowsinger. Azriel was lounging against a far column, his hazel eyes blazing with jealousy as Carina stroked Eris’s back while bringing him down to whisper something.

Eris could see Azriel’s jaw tighten, and could practically feel his hands around his throat as he finally broke his gaze to look at his dance partner. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“You’re hardly paying me any attention, my lord. I thought you were raised with better manners than that.” She chided, her ruby-painted lips ghosting over his ear as she cooed, “Perhaps you need a reminder of how to treat a lady. One night with me and you’ll never forget the lesson.”

“Wow, I-” Eris tried to respond, pulling back only to stumble into something hard. The smell of darkness and night air filled his nostrils as he turned to see Azriel glaring at the two of them, his jaw tight. “Azriel.”

“Eris.” He replied lowly, never taking his eyes off Carina. “My High Lord has requested an audience with you. Now.”

“Can his lordship wait? We were in the middle of-” She tried to interject but flinched back when he took a step forward, shadows curling over his scarred hands. “I’ll look for you after, Eris. Don’t keep me waiting long.”

However Azriel and Eris are already halfway across the room by the time she finishes her sentence, the anger and jealousy rolling off the Illyrian in waves as Eris holds back a whimper in his throat.

It had been so long since he had seen him. They had to keep their…whatever it was between them, secret, for obvious reasons but especially now that Eris was High Lord of Autumn. And with how busy he had been with taking over the court he had barely had time to sneak away to his favorite distraction.

They entered the hallway and Azriel gave a quick look around before he all but shoved Eris towards a small closet, ordering him quietly to ‘Get the fuck inside now.’.

As soon as the door shut behind them Eris was pressed against the cold stone wall, a tan arm pressed against his throat as Azriel pushed his hips against his. He could feel his hot, throbbing cock through his leathers and this time Eris did whimper.

“Azriel, please, let me explain.” He swallowed, mouth dry as Azriel cocked his head.

“What is there to explain? You vanish on me for weeks and then suddenly here I find you dancing in the arms of someone else, someone who was very keen on what you had to offer.” Azriel’s words were like ice as he tried to control his breathing. “By the pathetic noise you just made for me I know you still crave my cock so that little show was obviously a ploy for my attention.”

“It wasn’t! I didn’t want to dance with her, I swear, Keir-” Eris argued only to gasp when Azriel moved his arm away from his throat to grab a fistful of his long, styled mane. “Fuck, Az…”

“Look at how quickly you submit for me, prince.” He smirked, biting his bottom lip as he shoved his head back into the wall to expose his throat. “You were just dying for me to stake my claim for you in there, to fuck you in front of everyone and show them who owns you.”

Before Eris could protest Azriel had wedged his thigh between his legs, pressing up against him at just the right angle that had the redhead groaning. “You’ve got my attention, fox, what is you want?”

“You, fuck, I want you.” Eris crumbled faster than cake as his voice turned into a whine, his eyes half-lidded. “Please, Gods I’ve missed you so much. I need you, Azriel.”

“That’s not what you’re supposed to call me,” Azriel tsked, lowering his mouth to his throat and grazing it with his teeth. “Come now, be a good boy and try again.”

Eris’s throat bobbed as he took a shuddering breath, feeling a wet spot forming on the front of his pants from how pent up he was as he whispered, “Please, Sir. Please touch me.”

He could feel the Shadowsinger’s lips turn up in a smirk as he whispered praises into his skin, his hand wandering up until he was palming him through his pants. Eris’s reaction was immediate, his back arching and hips rising to get more as he remained pinned against the wall.

It was torture, sweet torture, as he kept the pressure just light enough to keep his pleasure from growing as he kissed his way up the High Lord’s neck. Azriel paused over his mouth, his gaze drinking in the neediness on Eris’s face, before kissing him passionately.

The closet was too small for actual sex but that didn’t stop the two of them from grinding against each other, their tongues dancing together sensually as Eris fisted his hands in his lover’s hair. Azriel growled, pulling away to suck a deep bruise onto his neck, marking his territory before he placed a hand on Eris’s shoulder and shoved him to his knees.

“Worship me, prince. Show me how much you’ve missed me.” He purred, running his fingers through Eris’s hair as he made quick work of Azriel’s laces to free his cock. It was long and thick, dripping with precum and begging to be shoved down his throat which is exactly what Eris planned to do.

His mouth opened wide and Az wasted no time in shoving himself all the way inside, his eyes closing as the tip of his dick hit the back of his throat. Eris gagged, trying to breathe through his nose as he looked up at the God above him. Azriel’s shadows were peeking over his shoulders as his eyes practically glowed in the dim light of the room, his aura absolutely dominating as he clicked his tongue.

“Much better use for that mouth.” He taunted, gathering the long strands of hair in his hand before he started to fuck into his mouth. “You can feel free to go back to that girl after we’re done…though I doubt you’ll be able to speak after this.”

Eris tried to garble out something but Azriel wasn’t interested in what he had to say, more focused on using him to get off as his balls hit the High Lord’s chin with how hard he was going. The sounds coming from his mouth were filthy as drool leaked out the side of his lips, his hands desperately trying to free his own cock.

The musk of sex and sweat was making him dizzy as he finally got his dick out. He thanked the Mother that Azriel didn’t say anything to stop him, allowing him that small bit of pleasure as he started furiously jerking himself off. One of his hands braced itself on the Illyrian’s thigh while the other fisted his cock, squeezing tightly when he got to the top as he slobbered all over Az’s member.

“Such a desperate, pathetic little fox,” Azriel grunted, his eyebrows furrowed together. “A needy, greedy slut for this cock, for me. The only thing you’re good for is for me to use and abuse, isn’t that right?”

He pulled him off his cock for a moment, waiting for an answer, to which Eris moaned out, “Yes Sir.”

“Gods, your mouth was made for sucking cock.” Az growled as he shoved himself back in his mouth, throwing his head back as he felt the first tingles of his approaching orgasm creeping up his spine. “What would that woman think if she saw you like this, hm? Saw you on your knees for me, the Spymaster of the Night Court?”

The thought of others seeing him like this made him feel shamefully more excited as he stroked himself faster, his moans vibrating around his lover’s dick which only added to his pleasure.

“You love the thought of that, don’t you? Imagine if we didn’t have to hide. If I could just take you wherever, whenever I wanted.” The Shadowsinger sped up as image after image flooded his brain. “In the courtyard, on your throne, on the dining table, I would fuck you so much that there wouldn’t be an inch of your body that wasn’t covered in my cum.”

“Please, please, please,” Eris wailed around him, his eyes rolling back into his head as he suddenly found himself on the edge of bliss. “I want it, I want it so bad, Sir.”

“You know the rules, prince.” He reprimanded, tightening his grasp.

Eris blinked away tears as he focused all his attention on making Azriel cum, knowing that as soon as he came Eirs could as well. His tongue toyed with the underside of his cock every time it slid in, his throat constricting around him while his hand went up to fondle his heavy balls.

Azriel’s hips started to stutter as he slammed his cock all the way into his throat, ignoring his gasps for breath as he growled loudly and emptied himself into his mouth. Eris swallowed like the good boy he was, drinking it down like wine as he went back to playing with himself.

It didn’t take Eris long to find his own release as Az pulled his softening cock from his throat, his cum dribbling out of his mouth as Eris threw his head back and moaned deeply with each spurt of cum that came out his cock.

Both of them were breathing heavily, a small pool of cum staining the floor as Eris closed his eyes and sagged to the ground.

“I’ll give you a moment to rest, High Lord, before we go back out there,” Azriel smirked, tucking himself back into his pants as he crouched down and caught some of his own cum trickling out the side of his mouth. “I suggest you make a quick excuse to leave and meet me in my chambers within the hour lest you let everyone smell cum on your tongue.”

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butterbabyflapjack · 1 year

Text

Brat chapter.2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

sexual content, sexual tension, dominant ghost, power dynamics, messy feelings, voice kink, mask kink, glove kink, dom/sub, indirect daddy kink, biting, rough sex, begging, brat breaking, voyeurism, just a dash of possessive choking, forced eye contact, oral fixation, tactical gear kink

Taglist: @ahoycaptainautumn @your-highnessmarvel @wolfgalsniper @confuseddipshit @prettynalilgay @merzkihstuff @alfie2401 @emberwolfgames @willowbrookesblog @meujias @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @magicgal @verios @flrwpwr @jewelsisurmom @imjusthereforghostsmutt @circuskatt

Chapterlist: chapter.1

You’ve been acting like a brat, and Ghost has had enough of it.

“You can consider this punishment. Can consider it me spoiling your bratty behavior. But you wanted my attention, and you’ve gotten it. So tell me now if you don’t want me to bend you over this desk and fuck you until it breaks, otherwise I’m taking what I want from you, and you’ll accept everything I give like the greedy fucking whore you’re pretending so hard not to be.”

He pauses, as if for your reply, though your tongue won’t move, your heart won’t beat; all of you tangled and drunken and warm; your stomach clenching almost painfully tight as you hear his hoarsened hum.

“I need an answer, love.”

“I…” you swallow, hard. Unable to deny that your panties are steadily soaking through for him, though still you somehow manage to stammer, “I’m not a whore you asshole…!”

You hear the smirk behind his mask. “You will be for me.”

Chapter 2

Authors Note: Guys, I don’t even know what to say, this is indulgent as fuck. Like, this is maybe the horniest shit I’ve ever written.

Thankyou to languidcryptid and tawus for betaing this! I really appreciate it! <3

Also, I used one quote from Ghost in here, because when he says it in-game my horny brain goes off – and if you know which line it is I’ll give you a flashy golden star~! *

ALSO also, be aware there’s elements of dub-con in this – not a lot imo, but just a heads up!

It takes a moment for you to actually obey him. Slowly closing the door behind you; barely removing your eyes from where he stands. Hearing its deafening click, and that sound alone speeds your heart. Feeling something in the air shift the very second you’re alone with him. And for all your unyielding obstinance, you’re still forced to swallow a sudden knot forming in your throat.

Seconds pass. Seconds that seem to last lifetimes, where the two of you merely watch each other. You, shifting nervously by the door, albeit with a stubbornly jutted chin. And he, behind his desk. Tall. Broad. Cut of wood. Watching you. Dark eyes running openly across your face, your throat, down your body. Before once again his gaze catches yours.

You wish he’d say something, anything. You can’t shake the way his eyes seem to sink hungry teeth in you, though you think you must be losing your mind, because he’s never looked at you quite like that, like he is right now – no matter how much you’ve longed for it. So you must be crazy right now, seeing things, making half-baked assumptions.

“You know why I brought you in here?” he asks at last. Voice thick.

It strikes an electrifying cord through you, his tone, the gruffness of it – vibrating down your spine and into the very tips of your fingers and toes.

You do know. Or, at least, you’re fairly fucking certain you do.

But of course you still lie about it.

“No.”

You hear a short, bearish breath; one that might accompany a clever smile.

“Ah. So you’re playing dumb, then,” he surmises, and his amusement at this fact has you bristling, resentful to be so easily read.

“No,” you reiterate, more forcefully, “I’m not playing anything.”

“You’ve been playing lots of things,” he counters. “That you’re fine, for one. That you haven’t been thinking about me a helluva lot more than you usually might, for another.”

Heat creeps up your face despite you fighting to stop it – and even though panic seizes your heart to hear him actually say that, and to say it so knowingly, you force your jaw to set rigidly. Because there’s no way he actually knows that you’ve been thinking about him… he’s just trying to get inside your head. This must be some intimidation technique he picked up during his time with the cartel or something.

Even as you tell yourself this, it sorta sounds like bullshit – but it’s easier to grasp than any other alternative.

“Of course I’m thinking about you,” you mutter, arms folding across your chest, “you’re standing right in front of me.”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about. Drop the bullshit.”

There’s a steady calm about him, one that buries the storm beneath it, and it’s enough to still your tongue.

“I’ve let you get away with playing and pretending for far too long, apparently,” he says. “And with how your little act’s been falling apart recently, I think it’s time I finally stepped in.”

You don’t exactly know what he’s getting at, but it still manages to constrict your ribs. “Did you call me in here just to lecture me about shit you know nothing about?”

“I know enough,” he says. “I almost think you like making me act like your fuckin’ dad, dragging you in here for your lying ass to be spanked.”

The image of him bending you over his lap, spanking and kneading your ass, has you struggling just to blink for a few seconds before you somehow manage to shake yourself, arms folding tighter across your chest. And still a few flustered seconds more to muster up enough sarcasm to reform your defenses, willing yourself with every fiber of your being to both look and sound bored..

“So… are you going to spank me, then?” you ask dryly. “Is that it? Or can I go back to reading and the blissful ignorance it brings to your aggravating existence?”

His eyes glisten like shards of volcanic glass from behind his skull mask; penetrative, yet so difficult to read. “I wasn’t actually planning on spanking you, sweetheart – but that mouth of yours has its way of tempting me toward many things.”

The gravel in his voice has your stomach doing some sort of sticky-sweet summersault that has you swiftly changing the subject.

“Forgive my lack of foreplay,” you snap back at him, “but can you get to the fucking point?”

“I’m on point, love,” he returns, “regardless of how you keep trying to derail me.”

Slowly, he strides out from behind his desk. Dark eyes like arrows in you, piercing so deep you couldn’t hope to pluck them out even if you wanted to. And it takes everything in you not to jolt at the heavy sound of his approach. Not to run from his nearness as he carves through the distance between you. Forcing yourself to stand strong, instead, even whilst nervously eying him. Your arms faltering, unthinkingly, back down to your sides; fingernails scratching at the hemline of your jeans. Feeling very much like prey to a circling wolf, more and more hunted with each step he takes toward you.

His boots stop right before yours. Standing so close his shadow swallows yours. So close you’re forced to crane your neck even higher than you normally would just to meet his smoldering gaze.

“You’ve been acting like a spoiled brat.”

He’s as brusque as ever. A growl threaded through his low inflection, making his words feel dangerous.

You try to swallow against the dryness of your throat. To appear completely unaffected by how his mere proximity threatens to make your heart take a running leap out the nearest window.

“If this is going into some kind of infraction report, sir,” you reply tautly, staring directly up at him, refusing to look away, “I’m not so sure spoiled brat is really the appropriate term you’ll wanna file with.”

“Don’t act like you give a damn about what’s appropriate,” he coarses, cutting your cheeky antics short. “I’ll only tell you this one more time – I’m no longer interested in playing. You’re in here right now because you’ve been lashing out like a bloody fucking brat all week, looking to get a reaction from people.”

In his pause, you bite your lower lip harshly, only able to glower as you note the way his gaze trails heatedly over you. His voice a steady octave lower as he adds, “A reaction from me.”

If you felt like he was splintering his way inside your head before, it’s nothing compared to how you feel now. Panic freezing the soles of your shoes to the ground; eyes widening for just a fraction of a moment beneath how his own eyes slowly crease.

Eventually, after what feels like far too long, you force a scoff that lacks any of its desired weight. “You think I have an attitude problem just to get to you… ?” you wonder idly; wanting to tear your gaze from his, but finding yourself unable to. “My, that’s a cocky assumption, even for an ego as big as yours. I guess I decked Soap just to get to you, too?”

You hear his little smirk. “No. That was just an added bonus. And I know you’re playing dumb, but you seem to be forgetting that I’m not stupid either, love.”

You’re so caught in the intensity of his gaze that you nearly jump when his large hand is suddenly on your hip, strong fingers curling into one of your belt-loops; tugging you close before you can even think to object, jerking you into him, so close your navel bumps into his groin, such is the height of him. And even with his gloves, your shirt, his jeans – the contact is electric.

“You’ve been acting like fucking brat,” his growl reiterates, “because some part of you wants to be treated like one.”

You can’t move. Can’t respond. Heart throttling you, strangled in your throat. Your body stricken to stone as the tower of him looms over you, dark eyes dancing across your own. And when he leans down, masked face dipping low beside your own, you think you might actually suffer cardiac arrest as his voice pours thick and hot near your ear.

“You’re overworked,” he murmurs, and even with his mask his words warm your skin, prickling you with fevered goosebumps. “High-strung for a million different reasons, I’m sure.” You feel his fingers, coiling, tangling further in your belt loop. Feel his thumb slip under your shirt, trailing the naked ridge of your hip. “And it seems it’s made you needy.”

It almost sounds like an insult, though he purrs it like it’s not. He sounds almost wolfish. Hungry.

“I’m… I’m not needy–”

“You are,” he breathes. “For attention. For release. That’s why you’ve been lashing out like a rotten little princess, right…? You want the sort of attention I can give you. You need it.”

His fingers, curled around your belt-loop, slide instead along the front of your jeans, fingertips dipping down beneath your waistband, knuckles coarse along your skin.

And like this he jerks your body snug against his, so close you can feel how hard he’s getting; a hard, thick ridge trapped within his jeans – and though you’d sooner die than admit it, heat floods your insides to feel him so aroused.

So aroused just by this. By breathing in your ear. By feeling you against him, beneath him.

You feel his nose brush against your hair. Hear his thrum as he smells you, the ridges of his mask felt against your skin.

“I’ve seen you picturing this inside your head,” he says. His other hand smoothing up your side, thumb tracing the lowest curve of your breast. The fire of his touch threatening to ignite you, making all of you tense, and yet you can’t pull away, can’t even convince yourself to try. Needy, just like he says you are. “Me, taking care of you. Taking what I want from you. Teaching you how to behave.” His thumb rides up along the swell of your breast, squeezing it until you bite back a whimper, teasing your nipple into tightening for him even through all those layers of clothes that separate you. “Lie all you want to yourself,” he murmurs; the hard ridge of his erection twitching at those little sounds you fail to bite back on. “But you can’t lie to me.”

His voice is molten now. So dark, so ruggedly filthy that it clouds your every thought, slipping along your skin, pulling all of you toward him.

“I need an answer, love. And I need it now.”

“I…” you swallow, hard. Unable to deny that your panties are already soaked through for him, though still, through the grace of some stubborn god, you somehow manage to stammer, “I’m… I’m not a whore you asshole…!”

You hear the smirk behind his mask. “You will be for me.” He thumbs the front button of your jeans. “And that’s not an answer. So let’s try this again – and this time, I’d advise you listen. If you tell me to stop, if you tell me right now – I’ll stop. I’ll send you on your merry fuckin’ way.” His possessive hand, squeezing your breast, slides instead up your chest, up along your neck, coming to grasp your jaw, to tilt your face to his, his eyes like anchors over yours. “Say anything else – anything at all – and you’re not leaving here ‘til I’m fucking finished with you.”

Your lips barely part. The word stuck to your tongue. Stop. You should tell him to… right? If you don’t… Dammit, you can barely think anymore! Everything’s consumed by him, every inch of you aching, fingers itching to grab hold of him, anywhere, everywhere, as instead your fingernails dig angry crescents against your palms. But even then, even tongue-tied, even trembling, you can’t look away from him. A prisoner to those dark eyes and whatever their intentions.

You should say it. That one word, like a key that would set you free.

“Fuck you,” you hoarsely whisper instead. Words firm. Eyes wavering.

His eyes flicker over yours. Calculating. Assessing. Before all at once he’s releasing the front of your jeans, tattooed forearm slipping around your waist, lifting you effortlessly up and off the floor.

“Ah-Ghost–!”

He ignores you, though his eyes hold a little glint that could be amusement. Carrying you in one arm as he turns toward his desk, while impatiently brushing aside everything that sits atop it with the other.

Tactical gear, electronics, folders – a cacophony of valuable military equipment goes toppling to the floor, clattering noisily, the glass of some scope even sounding to break, but he doesn’t care, his eyes never leaving you. Chaos at his feet as he sits you on the edge of the desk, his giant hands encircling your knees, smoothing up your thighs as he spreads your legs for him, as he slots himself between them. Eyes like heated coals within his skeletal mask, so hot they feel to brand you.

“Ghost…” you barely tremble. Not sounding like you’re trying to stop him. Not even knowing what you’re saying, beyond his name, beyond that hush of desperation in it.

A few, firm fingers draw up your inner thigh, and you gasp as they trace the seam between your legs.

“Choices have consequences,” he purrs.

“Ghost–!”

You hear his heated smirk as he unbuttons your jeans. As he unzips them. As he teases the elastic waistband of your underwear. “I didn’t realize I’d have you crying my name so quickly,” he murmurs roughly. “Not that I’m objecting.” When his rough middle finger finds your clit, even with your panties you still moan aloud as he strokes it, as you hear his breath hitch. “Though now it seems you’re speechless… Odd, when you had so much to say before…”

You want to say something, anything, besides his name again, especially since every time you say it you sound more and more helpless – but you can’t exactly help yourself when he slips his giant hand out from the front of your opened pants, ripping his glove off, tossing it aside as his warm, calloused fingers slip down between your legs again. Down beneath your panty’s waistband, coaxing along your folds, middle finger slipping through how embarrassingly slick you are already.

It feels like you’ve been shocked, like you’ve been drowning until his touch made you gasp – every muscle in you seizing as you unthinkingly grab at his hulking biceps like your life depends on it, fingers twisting so tightly in his shirt it nearly hurts, winding just as tight as that coil in your stomach is, especially when you hear his voice again, so suddenly strained, his forearm between your legs flexing. His free hand taking hold of your waist in a grip that threatens to bruise, keeping your hips from moving as he strokes along your over-sensitive clit, fingers sinking, slipping up and down, teasing your aching entrance without actually dipping inside you.

“Fuuuucking hell…”

Even with his mask, you can see the way his jaw grits. Can hear the tension in his words, pulling every muscle lining his neck taut. “This wet for me already…? Fuck…”

You can’t exactly deny it, though embarrassment bids you try, even as you feel your thighs tremble, as arousal ties your eyebrows into an agonized knot.

“Ghost…!”

Fuck, it sounds like you’re begging. And he hums low, like a wolfish beast, like he knows this, like he loves it.

“Just the slightest little touch…” he breathes, circling the aching nub of your clit, and you whimper as your grip on his biceps tightens, “and already, you’re breaking. You really are so needy, aren’t you…”

“Y-you… just…” gods, you can scarcely string words together, “please, stop teasing me…!” you somehow manage to choke. Eyes stinging with the decided effort not to fall apart, this quickly, which you absolutely refuse to do with every fiber of your fucking being – he’s giving you enough shit as it is, and you can only imagine what he’d say, how he’d tease you, if you climaxed at barely a touch. But, fuck – fuck, you feel like you’re burning up already. Like every inch of you is fuel to him, tinder to his touch. Like even the smallest spark would set all of you ablaze.

“But I like teasing you…”

You bite your lip so hard it nearly bleeds. “You’re a- ahh… a fucking prick…!”

He shuts you up by drawing firm, slick pressure along your clit with his thumb. Fingers sliding lower, teasing your entrance, enjoying the way your body tenses each time he does.

“Had it with your fucking lip,” he says, his voice to rough it verges on a growl. Taking you by the throat, his thumb tilting your jaw up, his eyes catching yours. “I think we’re past the point of you pretending you don’t want this. So ask me nicely – behave – and I’ll make you cum so hard you can’t see straight.”

Your cheeks singe with flustered heat, not wanting to fold, to do as he says, to give him any sort of satisfaction in it. But as his talented thumb pulls a pinched moan from you, you can only resist for so long before you hear yourself giving in, hear yourself sounding perhaps more broken than you’ve ever sounded in your life.

“Please…”

You know he likes it; you sounding like that, you obeying. He doesn’t tell you this, but his eyes darken, his hold on your jaw growing tense. “Please what…?”

You hate him. Gods, you absolutely hate him. But your body, your traitorous mind – they no longer belong to you. They belong to him, and you both know it. You’re putty in his hands, too far gone to fight it.

You bite your lips closed as harshly and for as long as you’re able to, which pathetically isn’t very long, before you’re whining so quietly you almost can’t even hear yourself, pleading in a wavered string of breath, “Please make me cum…”

Desire smolders his gaze into something harsh, and he thrums his approval, the sound like thunder in his chest. “Good girl,” he breathes. Thumb tracing your jawline, your chin, your cheek, as he admires your pleasure-twisted expression. As he slips one thick finger inside your begging entrance; groaning as he feels your walls tighten around him in response.

“Ohh – fuck!”

“Just relax…” His finger slips fully inside you, dragging back out again. Stroking, thrusting, as he slips in a second finger. A groan caught deep in his throat as you cry out for him, as your spine arches for more even as some part of you still resists, clinging to him so fiercely you feel your fingers might snap.

“Gh-Ghost!”

“Stop fighting it. Stop fighting everything.” His voice is ragged as he pumps you full, thumb circling your swollen clit. “Let me in… let me take control… give me all of it, everything…” His pace quickens, his strokes more firm, pleasure squeezing your lower spine, sparking stars across your vision. Your legs falling slack for him as his hips nudge your thighs even further apart. His eyes like firebrands as he watches you crumbling. “I’ll make you feel good… I’ll take care of you…”

Not thinking, hardly even able to, driven only by need, your trembling fingers fumble toward the dark fabric of his mask; that portion which cowls his jaw and throat. And at once his body tenses, his instinct to react, the speed in which he does so uncanny – his hand on your throat snatching up both your wrists in a viperous grip, so swiftly you yelp in surprise.

His hand shackles yours. Eyes shining down at you like arrowheads. “Not happening, love,” he lowly says.

Apparently, he’s deciphered something you haven’t – whatever it was you were after in reaching for his mask. And it takes a few distorted seconds of you hazily blinking up at him before you realize what you were trying to do. That you were trying to drag it off of him.

Hesitation scalds your face upon realizing. Your hands falling completely limp in his grasp, surrendering.

Of course he wouldn’t let you take his mask, why did you even try it?

Yet… even as you inwardly scold yourself, telling yourself you’re mad, you’re not thinking straight… now that you realize you wanted to kiss him, you can think of nothing else.

“Please…” you whisper – not really meaning to be so quiet, but the words will barely come out. “I’ll do whatever you want…”

Even then, it appears he hears you clearly, because you see and feel the broad line of his shoulders tighten at the offer. Though, still, he doesn’t respond.

“Anything, just… I want to kiss you…” You bite your lower lip; stomach clenching as you notice the way his eyes track your mouth's movement. “I want to taste you…”

His lashes grow heavy, gaze half-lidded as he studies you. Dark, thick honey stirring in his gaze, though in every other facet of his being he appears completely unaffected. His hold on your wrists rigid, unyielding.

“Wretched little minx,” he concludes at last. Lust edging with caution, as if you can’t be trusted, as if a kiss alone might be his end.

You purse your lips at him. “Please?”

If you thought you could weaponize your pleading to get what you wanted, you’re soon to find he’ll play just as dirty – weaponizing his touch to silence you, and quite efficiently, too. Stroking his fingers slow and deep inside you again, robbing you of everything but his annihilating friction, your all encompassing need; replacing all your words with whimpers.

“Greedy,” he hoarsely breathes, pumping into you faster, curling his fingers with every stroke so that he drags against that spot which makes your toes curl, has you begging him for more.

He seems distracted by all those desperate sounds you’re making, by the feel of your slick heat swallowing him up. Distracted enough not to decently shackle your wrists, even though you know he could, he easily could. But his hold still slips, and the second it does you reach to peel up his mask again, and this time he doesn’t stop you. You just barely raise it high enough to show his muscled throat, his strong jaw, that smart mouth, and the second you do his lips slam into yours, so fiercely you don’t even have a chance to look at him, to see those lips you long to taste, but you feel them, oh how you fucking feel them.; their plushness, their heat, their urgency in parting yours so his tongue can slip inside you, warm and yearning and demanding.

He tastes like honeyed whiskey; like black forest air warmed by savage wildfire. He tastes like someone you could become lost in. Could grow intoxicated on. And already, in a kiss, you’re drowning.

It’s too much, and you want more. His forceful, thrusting fingers. His slowly stroking thumb. His lips as they claim you, make you his.

Euphoric waves crash so fiercely against you that every sticky coil in your belly snaps, leaving you nowhere to go but crashing down, falling apart on his thrusting fingers as your lips fall slack; mouth agape against his as you whine and moan helplessly, pussy clinging to his fingers in desperate waves as you grab his nape, as you pull him closer, hips bucking against his palm as if to take him deeper.

“Fuck,” he groans against your lips, maintaining a steady, brutal pace; his tattooed forearm a well oiled machine that never slows, deliberate in its friction. Dragging out the length of your orgasm until your lungs feel fractured, until you can scarcely even breathe, with his own breath growing heavy just at the sound of you. Both your panting mouths tracing across one another’s, lips and tongues just barely touching in the interlude of a kiss. And the very second you’re able to rake down a breath without sobbing, he cards his free hand up the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, dragging you into yet another unforgiving kiss.

His tongue ravishes you, claiming every inch of your mouth as his. And when he pulls away again, it’s only enough to grab your jaw, to speak gruffly against your lips. “We’re not done here yet. So be a good girl and bend over the desk for me. Face down.”

You whimper as his thick, wet fingers slide out of you, but you’re left with little time to object, to say anything even if you wanted to.

He takes your hips, lifting you off the desk, your tipped toes fighting for balance. His lips trailing to the corner of your mouth, back along your jaw, then down your nape as he slowly turns you into facing away from him. His large hands smoothing around your waist, before taking both your hands in his from behind, guiding them to the edge of the desk. His waist nudging into the curves of your ass, coaxing you into bending over it.

One giant palm smooths down your spine as he presses you down against the desk's surface. Thrums deep in his chest, enjoying the view of you like this. And though you can’t see him, not with your panting face pressed sideways against the wood, your stomach’s still caught in sticky little knots, all of you weak for him, all of you so vulnerable.

“I’ve imagined what you might look like bent over my desk like this,” he purrs, his resonance jagged. “Daydreams don’t do it justice.”

He takes the waistband of your jeans and underwear from behind; rough, impatient; tugging them down over the curve of your ass, jerking them gruffly down your thighs, the fabric scraping against your skin with his harshness as he leaves them tangled around your knees. A shiver running down the full length of your spine as cool air kisses your soaked and swollen lips, so utterly exposed – a shudder so obvious that it makes him chuckle, his amusement thick.

Your breath grows sharp as you hear the shuffled sounds of his belt unbuckling. Of his dark cargos tugged inch by inch from the firm ridges of his hips.

“You really have been a fucking brat,” he says. “And I have no intention of going easy on you.”

You can’t fight the temptation to try and glance back at him; attempting to pick yourself up just enough to turn around and look, though he takes a firm hold of the back of your neck before you’re able to, shoving your face back down against the wood as you choke back surprise.

“Still disobeying me,” he lowly observes, fingers tightening around you until you flinch; yet even then his dominion over you has your back arching, your hips squirming, has you fighting not to whine like a needy bitch in heat. “I said face down.”

You feel heat radiating off his thighs as they brush against the naked backs of yours, his hand keeping your face down. And you actually moan when you feel the swollen head of his cock nudge your lower lips, drawing a hot, slick line along their crease.

He groans as your velvet folds envelop him, the head of his cock just barely pushing through. Your body so warm, so wet, so inviting; your needy mewls tempting him to push in more, to fuck in deeper. “I love the way you sound like this… you sound so fucking good…”

You expect him to draw this out, to torment, to tease you, but it seems he’s robbed of restraint to.

He grabs your neck and waist roughly as his hips flex forward, both of you moaning as he sinks inside you, your walls spasming, straining around his size – and it’s a damn good you’re so wet you’re actually dripping because otherwise he might not’ve fit. His cock’s built like the rest of him – thick, hard, massive – and the way it stretches you is almost too much to take, pain and molten pleasure sinking their teeth in you.

Your moans grow ragged against the desk as, with a final ruthless thrust, he bottoms out; your eyebrows constricted in a knot, spine arching with the strain to adjust to him.

His hand round your neck relaxes, his other smoothing up the curve of your spine.

“You’re taking me so well,” he growls. Sliding out just a bit, only to shove his way back inside, making you bite back a haggard whine.

“You might wanna keep it down, love,” he says, thrusting hard and deep inside of you again, his groin wetly slapping your ass as you yelp in pain and pleasure. “Otherwise, everyone else locked in here with us might hear you… and after hearing you like this, they’ll likely want a taste. But you’re mine. I have no intention of sharing.”

He slides out again, slamming back in ruthlessly, like he wants you to sing for him, and you do, you weakly mewl like you’re wordlessly begging for it.

“Then again… there’s no way they’re not listening to this, already. Not with you sounding like that. Not with flimsy walls like these…”

His hips take on a slow, agonizing rhythm that leaves you clinging to the edge of the desk, gasping for breath as coils pull tight in your belly, so fierce they threaten to snap. Trying to contain every sound you make, even the sound of your erratic panting, though it requires so much effort you feel it might drive you mad.

“Should we give them a show, sweetheart…?”

Under any other circumstances, you might think he was kidding. But with the way his thrusts gradually mount in speed, hammering deeper as his fingers dig into your neck and the plushy give of your hip, bouncing your ass against his groin at a rising pace – you’re oh-so-swiftly reduced to nothing but a needy fucking mess, and you know he’s not fucking around with you.

“N-No! D-Don't!”

Your pleas fall on deaf ears. And even with him fucking you harder than you’ve ever been fucked in your life, flustered heat still manages to burn up your neck and cheeks at the thought of what everyone would say to you if they heard this, heard you so pathetically unhinged like this; if they knew how Ghost had you splayed over his desk right now, making you drunk on his dick.

But even with your begging, his pace doesn’t slow; the relentless creaking of his desk and the wet slap of skin filling up the room. And when you try to smother your own cries with a desperate palm flattened to your lips, he releases your neck to instead snatch both your wrists, wrenching them down behind you, pinning them to the small of your back as the desk rattles with his forceful thrusts.

“I think it might be a nice consolation for how you’ve been treating them all week,” he teases between heavy breaths.

“N-no, ple- ahh– Gh- don’t!” you gasp, words broken with his every thrust. “Ple-ease… don’t, don’t –!”

“You want me to stop?”

You don’t respond, you can’t; and you whine as you feel his heavy weight lean over you, your shoulders wrenched back tighter. His broad chest flush against your back back, pinning your shackled arms between you, as his other hand snakes around your stomach, guiding your hips up higher beneath him.

“You don’t want me to stop.”

His weight nearly crushing you, he ruts into you at a slower, deeper angle claws an elongated moan from your throat. His haggard breath drawing close behind your ear.

“You want more. You need it.”

Even strained as your every muscle is, any semblance of composure cracking, his words still pull a shiver from you, your ragged gasps fogging the wood of the desk.

“Tell me.”

You want to deny it. But with how delirious you are, how mind-numbingly desperate and near the point of breaking, there’s no way in hell you can.

“Y-yes,” you choke out brokenly. “I need it.”

You feel a rockslide in his chest as he groans; a noise teetering on the edges of self-control. Feel him nipping at your earlobe, lapping at the sting. His breath hitching at the end of every thrust, the momentum of his hips slipping, “You need me to break you in every way imaginable, to make you fall apart again, don’t you?”

Your climax is so close it’s almost painful; your eyebrows twisting. “Y-yes!”

He groans in your ear as his pace quickens; more forceful, hammering that aching place that makes you squeeze him. “Fuck – You make it sound so good.”

He doesn’t even have to tell you to keep going, you keep begging him anyway, you can’t help yourself.

“Please – fuck – Ghost–!” you nearly sob, “Don’t stop, please d-don’t stop, I’m so close–!”

When his tongue traces your ear, you can’t help yourself – crying out desperately, gasping out his name – knees buckling beneath you as your slick walls spasm around him, squeezing tight in wave after wave as pleasure consumes you, makes your lungs seize, makes your mind break.

His momentum shatters; cock surging hard as iron as he sucks your earlobe between his lips, before his forehead falls heavy against the back of your neck, his length throbbing deep inside you. Groaning like an uncaged beast as he pours himself inside you with every haggard thrust, filling you so completely that by the time his assault slows, both your cum already drips down the backs of your trembling thighs.

You can scarcely breathe as your vision slowly returns. He can scarcely breathe, as he balances his weight on one forearm so as not to crush you beneath the mountain of him. And when he finally slides his cock out of you, cum trails like sticky, melted pearls from your abused hole to his swollen tip. His mouth warm, his lips soft along your nape, trailing your skin with lazy kisses, before his mask is pulled back down in place again.

“You’re a pretty mess,” he softly breathes. Releasing your aching wrists as he lifts himself off of you. Taking your hips firmly, helping you to stand, to face him, though your knees buckle the second he releases you.

His eyes widen as he takes your hips again swiftly, steadies you on your feet, before he lets out a chuckled huff. “Easy there, sweetheart." His eyes crease with what you suspect must be a small smile. "I should help you into a bath.”

Despite how nice any form of bathing sounds, and despite that you definitely can’t take a shower with your bones transformed to jelly like this, you still tense your jaw at him. The reality of your situation, of what the two of you have just done, slowly sinking its claws into you, along with all those feelings you’ve apparently been running from.

You’re not sure you can run from them anymore, and the thought terrifies you.

This was probably just a quick fuck to him. But to you it's something different. Something much more tangled. Something that squeezes your heart into a glass-like, throbbing knot.

Fuck, what did you just get yourself into…? Why did you let this happen?

“I can get there myself,” you insist; not rudely, just… stiff. Uncertain.

Maybe he really has fucked the brattiness out of you.

As you shimmy up your pants and he buttons up his, you take a tentative step as if to brush past him, to escape this web of feelings you’ve tangled yourself in – only for your knees to wobble and give out again, with him catching your waist easily, pulling you into him.

“Alright,” he says, staring down at you. “But maybe you should wait ‘till your legs are working.”

Despite everything, you feel yourself blush at his nearness. At his teasing. At that way he’s hushly watching you.

“I can’t,” you murmur. More vulnerable than you’d like to. Your eyes passing beneath his own. “If we stay in here too long… people might suspect something.”

You can actually see his eyes crease with a slow and steady grin. “Love… I hate to break it to you… but unless you sobbing my name for the past ten minutes was because we were exorcising some sort of demon, there’s no way in fucking hell they don’t know exactly what we’ve been up to.”

chapter 3

Author Note: I might add another chapter to this next, where you’re forced into dealing with all the messy feelings you have following the famous ‘fucked on Ghost’s desk until you can’t walk straight’ incident ~ OR ~ I might write a Ghost/Soap/Reader threesome. If you have a preference lemme know! 😘~💕 thanks for reading

#cod ghost #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #fanfic #fanfiction #cod modern warfare #mw2 #cod mw #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #brat

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nicoline1998enilocin · 3 months

Text

Sweet as pie

PAIRING ⇒ Husband!Ransom Drysdale x Wife!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT ⇒ 2.1K

SUMMARY ⇒ You're treating your husband, Ransom, to a beautiful and romantic dinner for your anniversary, but he doesn't know that he is the dessert you've been thinking of all week. You can't wait to sink your teeth into him and tasting every last bit he has to offer you.

RATING ⇒ Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS ⇒ Established relationship, use of nicknames (Cookie, Puppy)

SMUT ⇒ D/S dynamics (Soft Dom!Reader, Sub!Ransom), subspace, mommy kink, praise kink, discussion of safewords, use of ropes as restraint, oral (M receiving), titty fucking, multiple orgasms, implied aftercare.

A/N ⇒ I really missed writing for my dear, sweet Sub!Ransom and I'm very happy about how this fic turned out! This man has my heart, and I can't wait to write more for him, so keep your eyes open for future fics I will write - both for this AU and others. This was proofread by the lovely @ccbsrmsf1, for which I cannot thank you enough! I appreciate you deeply, and I love you 💜

EVENTS Masterlist ⇒ @fluffbruary Fluffbruary '24 ⇒ Dessert Masterlist ⇒ @ultimatechrisbingo ⇒ Titty fucking Masterlist ⇒ @fandom-free-bingo ⇒ Ropes Masterlist ⇒ @sweetspicybingo Sweethearts ⇒ Tie me up Masterlist ⇒ @slumberpartybingo ⇒ Never have I ever... been tied up

Banners: Yours truly ⇒ Divider: @firefly-graphics ⇒ Photo: Pinterest

Main Masterlist ⇒ Ransom Drysdale Masterlist ⇒ AU Masterlist

Today marks your 10th anniversary with your husband, Ransom, and you have taken him out to a romantic, fancy dinner to celebrate the night. Your appetizers are just finished, and you're waiting for the entree. When you lift your wineglass, Ransom is doing the same with his.

"Here's to the past ten years and many more. I feel very fortunate to have you by my side, Ransom, and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. I love you, and I can't wait to see what our future holds," you tell him before clinking carefully against his glass and bringing it to your lips.

"I love you too, my beautiful Cookie; I can't imagine my life with anyone other than yourself by my side," he says before sipping some of his wine, a content feeling settling over both of you as you're enjoying the atmosphere in the restaurant, as well as the conversation that naturally flows between the two of you.

When your entree is finished, Ransom is about to pick up the dessert menu, but you stop him before he can.

"I have a different plan for dessert tonight, Puppy. Let's head home because I want to try out something special, something we've never done before if you're okay with it," he looks up at you with excitement, curious as to what you have planned for him this evening. He agrees with your ideas; curiosity is piqued about what you're planning, and before you know it, you're home and changing into a more comfortable outfit.

"I want you to assume the position, my sweet Puppy, and when I'm ready, I'll tell you exactly what I have planned. I want to remind you that you can always say no if you're uncomfortable with it. I do not want you to do something because I'm into it. I care about your pleasure and well-being too," you tell him in a soft yet stern voice as your hands run up and down over his arms, looking up into his bright blue eyes that make you feel like you're floating in the ocean.

"Yes, Mommy," Ransom answers gently as he removes his clothes and puts them away before getting on the bed. He's entirely bare for you, and you can see that his giant, veiny cock is standing at attention with precum already gathering at the tip. It's flushed pink, though he pays no attention to it. His hands are folded in his lap, his eyes trained on you.

"Look at you, sitting there and looking sweet as pie," the praise falling from your lips effortlessly as the pink tint on his cheeks intensifies with your sweet words. If there's one thing Ransom goes crazy for, it is praise. However, you do not hand it out often during your scenes, as he has to earn it.

While Ransom is entirely naked, you opted to put in a lacey bodysuit that enhances every curve of your body perfectly, and you feel like a million bucks. Ransom's jaw nearly hits the floor as he takes in your physique. With your hair tied back, make-up subtle, and body on display for him. He has rarely been happier to have you as his dominant than he is now.

"Now, I mentioned trying something new earlier, and what I referenced is playing around with ropes," you say as you walk over to the dresser where your toys are. The sway in your hips has Ransom's eyes moving to your ass, seeing how the flesh moves with every step before coming to a halt and getting the ropes.

"For this, you're going to be on your knees the entire time; your hands and feet will be tied together so I can use you mainly for my pleasure tonight," and as soon as those words are in the air, Ransom lets out a soft, needy whine. There's nothing better to him than when you use him as your personal fucktoy, using him for nothing than your pleasure.

"Are you okay with that, Puppy?" your tone now firm to get his full attention.

"Y-yes, Mommy. Want you to tie me up and use me," the glimmer in his eyes intensifying at the thought.

"Before I do, I want you to remind me of your safewords," you tell him, sitting on your knees before him, the rope between you both. His eyes look up at you with pure adoration, and your heart melts a little at the sight.

"Green means that I'm good, that we can keep going. Yellow means that we stop temporarily and change what we're doing or take a break when necessary. Red means the scene will stop entirely, and we will go into aftercare," he tells you carefully, and you nod as he tells you.

"Good boy," you praise him, and he's practically purring under your praise. It doesn't take long for him to be tied up, his hands and feet bound together by the rope you bought not too long ago. Today will be a learning experience for both of you, so you decide to take it easy on him.

As soon as he's tied up, you move to the front of him, taking in the sight before you for a moment. Ransom's face is flushed in a beautiful, sweet pink color, and his eyes are half-lidded with pleasure already. He's slipping into a hazy mindset, as you now have complete control over him, and he couldn't be happier about it.

"What's your color, Puppy?" you ask him as you take his face into your hands, ensuring he's looking right at you. This way, you can check if he's comfortable or showing signs of distress or discomfort. There aren't any signs of it, and with a soft 'green' he lets you know he's good to go.

"I'm not going to keep you in those ropes for long this time, and if you're really good for Mommy, I'll give you an amazing reward," you tell him, and he nods before you scoot back on the bed and sink, now at eye-level with his achingly hard cock.

As soon as you wrap your hand around the base, Ransom moans, the anticipation you've been building by simply tying him up enough to bring him to the edge of release already. He lets out every moan and groan that wants to escape, and it serves to make you wetter. While you enjoy sucking him off, you're partially doing it for him, too.

Your tongue glides over the bottom of his cock, tracing the vein popping off as Ransom's head falls back, and he's trying to fight against the restraints, wanting to lace his hands through your hair. He grunts when he can't escape, and a grin spreads on your features.

"What's wrong, Puppy? Did Mommy tie your hands back?" you ask teasingly, and Ransom nods with a deep whine.

"Want to touch you, Mommy," he says softly, but you shake your head.

"Not yet, Puppy; right now, you will take what I give you and nothing else," you tell him firmly, and he nods, suppressing a whine that wants to escape desperately. Instead, he lets himself slightly slump into the position he's sitting in, getting a little more comfortable.

As you look up at him, you can see his brows knitting together, and you let go with a wet pop before sitting upright, hearing Ransom moan at the feeling of you taking away the perfect warmth of your mouth.

"Color?" you ask him directly, and it takes him a second to answer. He's sinking deeper into subspace and knows precisely how he feels, as he's feeling better than ever. Though it's a struggle to get the words out, he eventually does tell you his color is green, and he's still good to go. Despite that, you watch him during the rest of your scene.

After that, you sink to take him into your mouth again, sucking gently as you slowly work him into your mouth and throat. Ransom's moans became uncontrollable as he climbed his high, and it only made you more aroused, your fingers slipping between your thighs to give yourself some relief as well.

"Cum for me, Puppy; Mommy wants to taste your cum," you tell him before taking him down to the base of his cock, gagging at the intrusion in your throat before he lets go, his hips stuttering as he fucks your face slightly through his orgasm.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes when you cum, Puppy? You're being such a good, obedient boy for me today," you tell him, and he nods while the praise makes him blush deeply. His cock is now soft between his thighs, though you know it won't take long for him to get hard again, and you know exactly what you're going to do next.

The words you tell him are seeping slowly into his brain, as he's pretty deep into subspace already. He's very pliant with everything you do, and before you know it, he's untied, the ropes now on the floor as you gently massage his wrists and ankles. You didn't make them too tight to make it more comfortable for him, and he loves feeling your fingers on his skin.

"How're you feeling, Puppy? Can you tell me your color?"

"Green, Mommy, 's all green," he tells you with a dopey smile, and your heart skips a beat as you look at your husband. You feel fortunate to be loved by someone as special as him, and to love him with your entire heart and soul is something you'll never take for granted, which you often tell him. You kiss him softly on his temple before moving on with the scene.

"I want you to lay down on your back, Puppy. Spread these beautiful thighs for Mommy as she undresses, so you can fuck these tits like you always so desperately want," you tell him, and his eyes shoot up at you to make sure you said what he thinks you said. The sly grin on your face tells him all he needs to know before scrambling to get on his back, his head lying on the plush pillows of the bed.

He looks at you as the delicate lace slides over your body, revealing every part of you that Ransom loves. Every inch of skin that's exposed makes him even harder, and he has to swallow thickly to ensure he won't do anything embarrassing. That doesn't last long, however, because as soon as you bend over to take off the garment, Ransom lets out a needy moan.

Your back is turned to him as you bend over, displaying your ass and dripping pussy perfectly for him. He wants to make you feel good and have you fall apart on his cock more times than he can count, but he won't do that right now. He wants even more to be good for you, earning him the reward he desires.

"Hmm, looks like you enjoyed my show, Puppy," you say as you eye Ransom's cock, which is at total hardness again. You crawl onto the bed and sit between his legs before assuming the position.

"What's your color?" you ask as a bit of check-in to see if he's still okay. As soon as the words 'so fucking green' roll from his lips, you smile broadly before bending down, ready to let Ransom have his way with your breasts. You take Ransom's cock and place it between your boobs before squeezing them together and looking at him expectantly.

"You're going to have to work for it, Puppy. Do you want to cum? Then you have to fuck Mommy's tits to get what you want," you say matter-of-factly. He nods and slowly starts thrusting up, the glide of his cock between your slightly lubricated boobs feeling heavenly.

"That's it, Puppy, fuck Mommy's tits until they're coated in your delicious cum," you spur him on, and this time it doesn't take long for him to cum, shooting the ropes of white seed onto your tits and face, allowing you to lick all of it off and swallowing every drop of it. After this orgasm, he's completely spent, and you take your sweet time cleaning him up on the bed and in the shower.

"You've been good to me, Ransom; you're the best Puppy I could ever wish for," you tell him as you capture his lips, the kiss gentle and unhurried. Your hand cups his face as you slowly deepen the kiss, letting it take its natural course before letting him tuck into your side, ready to sleep.

"Goodnight, my beautiful Puppy," you tell him with a kiss on his damp hair from the shower.

"Goodnight, Cookie," Ransom says with a thick voice that's heavy with sleep. It doesn't take long for both of you to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, your combined bodies tangled with limbs. Tonight was a perfect introduction to playing with ropes, and you can't wait to venture even more into it with your amazing husband.

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firein-thesky · 10 months

Text

|| zhongli x afab!reader || E/18+ || smut/a touch of angst/comfort || wc: 7k || ao3 ||

minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only

You have never been patient enough for worship. Sometimes, he thinks you always expect to be scorned or feared or hated. As a god of hunger, you are not beloved or worshiped by many, if any at all.

You’ve never known the sort of worship that he gives you.

✧ meet fruit collab masterlist ✧

a/n: this is apart of @willowser 's house server summer collab, meet fruit!! i took plums as my prompt!! this really got away from me and i had a lot of fun with this dynamic and i WILL be writing more of godly wife!reader and zhongli. i have a whole backstory. a huge massive fic i shouldn't work on but will fjdkslfdk i also need to give a special thanks to @itoshisoup , @lorelune , and @petrichorium for helping me with brainstorming and riffing earlier! also finding some godly names for the reader! in particular, mao came up with the name Tanai Zhenjun, which i will leave a note at the end about!! i hope you enjoy this sweet taste!! thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts <333

tags: afab!reader referred to as wife, and has several godly titles that mortals have called her, etc., a complicated relationship between zhongli and reader, mentions of past fights/canon typical violence, erotic fruit eating and feeding, finger sucking, biting, oral sex (f!recieving), some over stimulation, praise, maybe a little sex pollen because the reader causes feelings of hunger/lust/etc. but its consensual and zhongli can withstand it if he wanted, scratching, unhealthy godly dynamics, let me know if i missed anything!

In the shadows of his home, he would know you anywhere.

(He would know you even if you didn’t appear to him like this, fully formed, and in the visage of mortals. He’d know you in the thunder and the wolves’ howl. He’d know you in autumn’s bitter wind and the fox’s cry. Across all of time, he’d know you.)

You slip, serpentine, slow and with the easy grace of a predator into the last falling light of the sun; bronzed, honeyed, and appearing before him like you did decades ago, perhaps a hundred of years ago.

Has it been so long already?

The sight of you–perhaps simply you, yourself, spark an ache in his chest. Fierce. Hunger pains.

And after all these years, he welcomes it, savors the pit in his stomach like a sweet fruit.

You, his god of hunger.

You, his divine wife.

He tips his head back, leaning further into the chair at his deep, mahogany desk, as if he could fix his eyes to better see you. As if he could take in more of you, somehow, greedily, hungirly.

“Hello, my Morax.” You hum and the sun catches in your eye as you step into his life again, after so long without.

“Hello, my love.” He responds, as if it could’ve just been yesterday.

As if you are his wife and you’ve come home to greet him. As if he is your husband and he’s been working all day without you.

“It’s been a long time,” he says then, “you’ve been away a long time.”

You meander closer, on the other side of his desk, peering at the scrolls and papers there. His hands are stained in ink. He catches the downturn of your lips, the small quirking of them in displeasure. Such mortal things, he can hear your voice, the little hiss you get when you dislike something.

But then your eyes roam to the bowl of fruit, now untouched, that had been brought to him in hopes of eating;

Slices of plum, gold and orange and tender on the inside, their moon-dark skins still curved to them. One still has the pit attached to it, carefully nestled within its flesh.

Plums always remind him of you.

(In truth, anything with pits, with bones, with something that can be picked clean and left behind reminds him of you.)

In an instant, your fingers, nimble–adorned with his jewels, the jewels of his earth, snag a slice.

He watches as you sink your teeth into it, juice bursting, caught on your lip.

You chew only a moment, swallow slowly as you watch him.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed around Liyue Harbor,” you begin, “I thought I wasn’t allowed around your precious mortals.”

His voice, low and soft, rumbles in affirmation. “Yes, that is true.”

“And yet you speak to me like I’m welcome.” You hold the last bite of your slice to your lips, speaking against it, “like I should’ve visited sooner.”

You bear down into the fruit again.

“You’ve come to pick a fight?” He asks, “I can feel you’re trying to stir trouble.”

And it's true; your ability as a god of hunger, to spark it in others. To sharpen and change it from starvation to bloodlust to desire to despair to greed–to any form of hunger.

You caused whole towns to be decimated, driven mad with just the residuals of you, the feeling of you too near, like a wraith haunting their doorway. You turned tides in the Archon war for him and against him. You have always been one of the biggest threats to Liyue’s peace—to the world. Perhaps even beyond.

You perch on the corner of his desk prettily.

“I can’t visit my husband?” You purr.

He quirks a brow, “you only ever call me husband when you’re trying to kill me.”

Your grin is a wild slip of excitement, a fissure of heat in the clash of your gazes.

“I am trying to kill you,” you agree, but perhaps you have always been trying to kill him. The battles between you two carved the very land of Liyue and at the end of them, no matter what had transpired, he was still your husband. And you, his wife. “But I don’t feel like fighting tonight.”

You pluck another slice of plum from the bowl and bring it to your mouth. He watches your lips part to take the fruit in again.

He thinks of replacing your hand with his own. He thinks of the sticky sweet taste he would find if he licked into your mouth, he thinks of being between your teeth again like the little piece of plum.

Something inside of him yawns open.

You’re toying with him.

“You’re in rare form, then.” he hums and does not deny your draw. He has long since stopped trying not to be swept up in you–he realized it was inevitable at some point. You would always pull at parts of him none of the world had, and like a puppeteer did you play with those strings. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You gaze down at him, almost lovingly, if he didn’t know better.

Then you shift slightly, adjust yourself.

And the first touch he has of you in decades, perhaps a century, is just a brushing of your calf against his forearm from where you sit atop his desk. Your bare skin beneath the pooling silks of your skirts.

Heat rips through him like a tearing wound.

His gaze flicks up to yours.

“Did you know I was in Liyue?” You ask.

“I always know the moment you enter my land again.”

I always know the moment you come home.

You shift your leg again, this time, a steadier press to his arm.

He can’t help himself–he shifts his arm, opens his palm up against the curve of your bare calf to fully feel you, to hold you, in any minute way you might let him. Rough calluses scrape up against the soft skin of your leg, the silk of your dress pooling around his arm, cool and like spun moonlight.

You let him hold you like this, curl against the contour of you. His hand moves, dips down almost to your ankle, and back up to the bend of your knee.

“You missed me,” you accuse, your voice a teasing lilt.

Perhaps it’s you and the heady rush you cast on a room, on him, “yes,” he agrees honestly, “I always do.”

“So sentimental in your old age. You’ve spent too long around these mortals.” You tell him, looking away so all you give him is the profile of your lovely face. The upward tilt of your chin, the haughty way you look down your nose.

“Did you miss me?” He asks and he isn’t looking for you to placate him, but his hand is broad and inching up the back of your thigh. He pulls at you, urges you to the edge of the desk, where his other hand fits around the curve of your waist.

“Don’t get greedy,” you chastise gently, but you still go with the pull of his hold.

You slip into his lap like you were always meant to be there, fitting to him the way the moon fits into the sky, or the land against the sea. It’s an ancient feeling, bone deep, soul-cut.

You let your arms fall around his neck loosely and to have you again in his embrace, after so long, does in fact, make him feel greedy.

“I can feel it,” he says instead, perhaps just to spite you a little–to move another piece in this eternal chess game with you. “I can feel how you ache. I can feel the way you missed me.”

“I always feel like that,” you snip, deft fingers slipping the band in his hair out so that it all falls free, loose and flowing over his shoulders in a wave of inky black. “I am always hungry like that.”

“No,” he says and his voice is low like a wolf’s growling, a tiger’s purr, “I know your hunger. And I know this hunger of yours. You missed me.”

“If you’re looking for a heartfelt confession, you won’t find it in me.” You tell him, proud little god that you’ve always been, “perhaps you’ll find it in your precious mortals.”

Your voice takes on an edge, just shy of a sneer.

He laughs, a low rumble from his chest, amused, and pleased.

“Oh, that jealousy of yours. I missed that, too.”

“Don’t get full of yourself,” you hiss like an asp and now, he worries you’ll bring your claws out. Your eyes glint in the last rays of light, like a bolt of lightning, like a spark of flame in a cold night.

He reaches up to touch your face, thumb sweeping over the arc of your jaw bone in a possessive hold. He forces you to look at him. “Come now, I thought you said you weren’t in the mood for a fight.”

“Then don’t test me.” You snap.

He fights back another fond smile in order to not test you further than he already has.

He leans closer, his nose almost nudging against yours, “if you’re not here to fight. What are you here for?”

“To eat through all your land until it is barren again.” You murmur and he knows it is just to pester him. Your fingers are winding in his long, silky hair and your eyes have gone half-lidded, so he knows you are not nearly as waspish as you’re pretending to be.

“If I could satiate your hunger, I would.” He murmurs darkly, lips brushing against yours as you carefully hold yourself back, a dog on a strained leash. At your best, you have always been a caged beast, pacing and desperate for escape. At your worst, you have been nothing short of desolation, teeth upon the earth in a vicious grasp, shaking hard, tearing it to shreds. Your bite never compared to your bark. You’d threaten destruction and deliver devastation; even you, surprised with your own vitriol, your own capability for demolition.

He threatened to muzzle you once, long ago.

You rear back slightly to look at him, “no, you wouldn’t. What would you have me be? Content?”

He laughs softly again, low and warm, terribly fond of you despite it all, “yes,” he says very frankly, and then, “soothed, for once in your life.”

“I won’t ever be soothed while you walk this earth.” You tell him and he cannot tell if you mean it with vengeance or with love. Are you being romantic? Or threatening him? Sometimes, he felt that your violence was supposed to be more like a kiss, and your kiss the type of violence that leaves him ruined for decades after.

“And you would be after?” He asks, “I don’t think you’d know what to do if you finally managed to kill me in a meaningful capacity. You’d be bored.”

You move to pull away from him with a snarl but he fastens his hold onto you tighter to get you to stay, he touches your face again, coaxing. “I only tease you.”

“I said don’t test me.” You respond, but again, there is nothing nearly so vicious in you tonight.

No, he knows the hunger in you tonight is a soft creature, a warbling, tender one. He’ll be kind to it, he will feed it and tend to it, even if he knows it will only grow larger still. Like caring for a tiger cub, only for it to grow into all those teeth and muscles, to bite the hand that fed it.

“Forgive me,” he rumbles, and this time, he angles your head so that he can skim the strong line of his nose against your jaw, “let me make it up to you.”

“You will not be able to,” you say indignantly and his own smile now feels sharper with the challenge, with your throat so near. He settles himself into a burning kiss against your pulse. Inside of him, something catches and sparks. Your hands curl around the muscles of his shoulders.

“I know,” he coos, low and soft, almost sympathetic. “Then at least indulge the hunger you’ve caused in me.”

This, in the least, you settle into.

He pulls away barely to sit back, to look at you fully in all of your glory a moment.

You look back at him, perhaps taking him in as well.

The smoldering turns into a flame.

The decades of years unspool inside of him and give way to a racing mind, images of what he wants, how he wants you.

It is always like this, he thinks, eternally, desiring you, and never getting enough.

He thinks he must know how you feel.

And then he gives into one of several of his desires that are rearing their large, horned heads inside of him. The beasts of his desire are all chained to you, he thinks. He reaches for the bowl of fruit.

Perhaps it's your turn to be amused as he brings a slice of plum to your lips. You must know how he was looking at you earlier, you must know his desires if you are the one to stoke them.

Still, you accept the fruit easily, minding your teeth as his finger slips against your lips. Sticky and soft and warm. You draw his finger into your mouth briefly, closing around it. He can feel the edges of your teeth as he pulls it out.

The moment you swallow around the piece, he surges up to kiss you.

To finally kiss you.

He wishes he could call it something of a greeting or reunion, but it is too desperate and too vicious for that. Your teeth click together, coming up against one another, like an old key coming up against a lock.

He tastes the plum in your mouth, sweet and a little tart, and can’t help the groan that rumbles out of him.

Your hands disappear into his hair, tangle in the strands so that he can feel the press of your nails against his scalp. He feels the way you arch into the slide of his hands along your torso, bending to them, as if he is a sculptor. It pulls you closer, opens your hips wider in his lap in a way that makes heat rip through him.

When he pulls away, you’re already hazy-eyed, heady with the quick-burn of this sort of hunger, this lust.

It pulls at him like the tide on the shore to drag him under.

This time, when he places his lips to your throat, he sinks into a bite at the tender flesh there.

Sometimes, he wishes he’d treat you more tenderly. As if that might be all you ever needed; more gentleness, and less teeth at your throat.

But you arch and from your mouth spills your own moan finally, fingers tightening in his hair as if to hold him there. He feels your hips twitch forward, into him, an aborted rock of them, perhaps unknowingly or subconscious.

He wishes you inspired patience in him.

(Usually, he claims to have a great deal. Unfortunately, he cannot claim the same with you in his arms again. Forgive me, he thinks again, but I haven’t seen you in nearly a century.)

He stands suddenly with you still wrapped around his waist, hands fit beneath your thighs to lift you and place you on the broad expanse of his desk. Papers get pushed aside, some topple onto the floor in a fluttering mess. You laugh when the bowl of plums rattle precariously, but his mouth covers yours again, and he swallows the sound eagerly.

He kisses you hard again, hitching your hips up to fit snugly to his, fitting his broad hands over the curves of your waist. You respond in kind, though, and twine your leg around his waist to pull him closer, arch your back to press your chest up to his.

When he pulls away this time, he takes you in, splayed out beneath him.

“I did miss you,” he gets out roughly.

“Then show me,” you respond, stretching out beneath him, as if to tempt him.

His hands move over the silk of your dress, bunching parts of it, tangling it. He decides in an instant that he doesn’t actually wish to deal with it, so he sets his hands on the bust and simply pulls. It tears like paper beneath him. And again, you laugh, amused with him now, with what you do to him.

“So impatient.”

“It’s been a long time, my love.”

And this time when he kisses you, perhaps you give into him more, feed what he wants. You mewl into his mouth, arch against him, drag your nails down his covered back.

“Touch me,” you get out, demanding, a little fussy.

“So impatient.” He mocks dryly.

For his trouble, you pull harshly on the hair at the nape of his neck, baring his throat to you.

His broad palm roams up the expanse of your side, your bare stomach, and to your chest. He cups your breast, thumb brushing against the peak in a way that makes you hum and squirm beneath him eagerly.

You bury your face in his now exposed neck, nudge your nose there, which turns into your warm, open mouth.

For a moment, surprisingly gentle, until he feels the quick flash of pain from your teeth. He rolls your nipple between thumb and forefinger with a little more pressure than necessary, just to hear the little noise of pain you make.

He drops his face to the crux of your chest, lips dragging along the skin there, above your beating heart. And for all your bite and bark, you still offer yourself up to him for the taking. You still draw your hands over his shoulders, pushing at the clothes still on him. He doesn’t indulge you, but draws lower, hair spilling over your chest as his mouth opens against your breast.

He nips and marks, sets his teeth against the tender flesh and sucks a bruise into you.

“I miss your sharp teeth,” you admit.

He huffs, breath fanning against your skin. He raises his eyes, molten gold, to meet your own, “there’s no pleasing you.”

And then he captures the bud of your breast in his mouth and at least manages to pull another sound from you, meandering, growing in your own desire. You squirm beneath him again but something inside of him (old and draconic) blinks its eyes open and he seizes your waist to still you the way a predator subdues their prey, sharply, and with a slow rolling of muscle, a flex of their strength. A serpent squeezing down around a mouse. A tiger bearing down on the deer.

You don’t go easily, though.

And the moment you feel his resistance, you squirm and push harder, straining. Arching and impatient.

He nips, he fights back the more base urge to growl, and readjusts his hold on you.

“Stop squirming,” he commands.

“Stop teasing,” you reply, stubborn, and disobedient.

“Let me enjoy you.” Zhongli responds, watching his own hand sweep over your breast, cover it, and toy with you.

“Enjoy me later.” You snip, fastening your legs tighter to his waist, hitching him closer.

And he feels a head rush of your ability pour through him, the tightening of your desire and lust, of your hunger spilling from you. It’s purposeful. He feels the dull thud of his heart kick upwards, the warmth that simmers beneath his skin. He blinks hard with it, but does not succumb.

“You’re so insolent.” He finally gets out, just shy of a growl, “now hold still for me.”

His lips skim the top of your stomach as he lowers himself to his knees in front of you.

You sit up onto your elbows, eyeing him, inching your hips to the edge of the desk eagerly.

“I’ve always liked you best on your knees, Morax.”

He sinks his teeth into your inner thigh in a more ruthless bite, forcing your legs open even as they threaten to close with the sudden jolt of pain. Hard enough that you hiss through your teeth, twitching towards or away from him, he can’t tell.

(Images of days long past flash hotly in his mind, in another form, with those sharper teeth you’d said you missed.)

He feels your hunger burst open like a ripe fruit, like the plum between your teeth.

He soothes the bite with a slow, lingering pass of his tongue.

His eyes flick upwards towards you.

You look a little shaken finally, eyes glassy, teeth stuck in your bottom lip.

He drags you closer, pulls you flush so that your hips are almost off the edge. You fall back with the movement and he doesn’t give you a moment. He isn’t feeling generous or very kind anymore.

His mouth opens against you in a crush of heat, eager, perhaps impatient himself.

A groan, low, from the back of his throat, works out of him at the first taste of you.

Again, you try to squirm, and something ancient and vicious in him squeezes hard enough on your waist that if you were a mortal, he might sincerely hurt you. He doesn’t care if you’re trying to squirm closer or away, he realizes, he doesn’t care if it hurts a little, as long as he can have you like this. Open. His.

Ah, he realizes, perhaps he isn’t ignoring your sway as well as he thought he was.

He delves between soft folds, already slick, but he’ll make it worse still.

(Perhaps, at one point, he had ideas of being a gentleman of some kind with you. Perhaps, at some point, he thought he would carefully work you open with mouth and soft tongue. He’d be loving and gentle with you. But you’ve always done something horrible to him, something he can’t tame, something he wishes he feared more.)

You whine a little and the sound pools straight into his own desire for you.

He fits himself closer, keeps your legs wider apart with his shoulders.

“Morax,” you gasp and it’s with more heat and desperation than he is anticipating.

His eyes, heavy and gold, flick up towards your face, looking up at you beneath the dark fan of his lashes.

Oh, you’re closer than he thought, he realizes.

He doesn’t slow or stop or lessen himself, groans a little, and fits himself tighter to you. He digs his fingers into your skin and keeps you close.

To his surprise, that is all it takes.

Your gasp is strangled, perhaps a little surprised, as you arch off the desk in a bow-curve, poised to snap.

You fall to pieces as a cry loosens from your throat.

He feels you pulse against his tongue and without thinking, he growls a little, a pleased rumble, and doesn’t stop.

He tastes you, savors it, and doesn’t let you hide or pull away from him.

Your hips twist and he follows the movement, wrestling you still, so that he can still enjoy you.

You’re out of breath, hiccuping a little, trying to squirm away from him but there’s nowhere to go.

He won’t let you go.

He pulls away to rest his head on your inner thigh a moment, “so quick.” He teases, “you must’ve been pent up for it to be that easy.”

He thinks, I wasn’t even doing that for you yet—I was still enjoying myself. I was being greedy. Hungry in my own way, in the way that you inspire.

“I should leave you now.” You huff, picking yourself up on your elbows to gaze down at him, but your eyes are simmering.

He squeezes at your thighs, “you’re not going anywhere tonight.”

And before he can hear your protests, he dips forward again and flattens his tongue against your folds. Slow, broad licks that make you twist and twitch.

“Morax—“

“I’m not finished with you yet, my love.” He says lowly, somewhere against where you’re most tender and sensitive.

He takes his time teasing now.

Enjoy me later, you’d said, and he doesn’t think this is what you meant.

You have never been patient enough for teasing–for worship. Sometimes he thinks you always expect to be scorned or feared. You were always Deus Inanis, Tanai Zhenjun, and later, Rapax Regina to the people. You have many names from them, none particularly kind or cherished. You were always the ghoulish god, the bad omen, the drooling maw of a starved predator. Your myth is not a beloved one by most.

And some dare not even speak your name at all, for fear of inviting you.

You are not a welcome god in the home and hearth, you are not for protection or courage. You are feared and warded off. You are, at best, used as a condemnation.

(To him you were always softened with affection, even at your worst; little god, my curse, my love, keeper of my heart.)

You’ve never known the sort of worship he gives you.

You struggle with it, keen sharp and broken when he gives it to you.

Sometimes you have all-out tried to refuse him or hasten him, poured your lust and impatience into him to get your way, to sway him to your own will. He can feel it again now but it never manifests in him the way you’d like it to. You assume his desire is one of his own pleasure. But it has always been this;

You, belly-up and vulnerable, only for him, delicate in a way the rest of the world will never know. Pleasure-drunk and hazy. Lost to what he can give you–he wants to gorge you. He wishes he could fill the empty place inside of you.

He’s spent an eternity trying. He’ll spend an eternity more.

He focuses his intentions, strengthens the pass of his tongue with what he wants. He wants your pleasure. He wants it again and again.

You curse a little, an ancient word, from when the land was Archon-less and free.

He lifts his mouth from you briefly, “you are already cursing like that? This will be a long night for you then.”

He opens his mouth again to taste you, to suck gently, your legs twitching over his shoulders as your breath hitches.

This time you curse him, hissing through clenched teeth.

He laughs against you in amusement, low and dark, and smooths a broad hand over the soft plain of your tensing stomach. As if he might soothe you, or perhaps because he wants to feel all of you, have you in his palms, in his arms. Against his mouth.

The next time you fall apart, he doesn’t let up once. His eyes have gone half-lidded and burning, a flint-strike of amber. You try to fight him again, wrestle out of his hold, but he strengthens himself. He steels himself, even, to your pulling of his hair, to your fussing and snapping–all of that melts to whining, to near-crying, as he continues.

You’re too stubborn to cry for him now–there have been only a handful of times he’s broken you down that much.

Perhaps if he were feeling crueler, he would try.

(These instances have always come in the wake of something worse; your largest fights, or worst transgressions where he felt the need to punish. To strip you bare. These are saved, not for his desires, but for your catharsis after all your grief.)

But your voice has gone higher with desperation, more broken, and he is pleased with that.

Pleased enough that when you burst on his tongue again, your nails digging into the back of his hand as he holds you, he finally rises.

Instantly, you twine yourself around him, legs around his waist, arms pulling at the front of his clothes to drag him down into your arms. You are always more desperate for affection like this, softened by pleasure, hungry for more.

He goes down easily for you.

Kisses you hard and open, so that you’ll taste yourself from his mouth, the way he tasted the plum from yours.

You groan weakly and manage to gasp when he pulls away, “please–more. I need more. Need–”

Always need, you say, when you get like this. Never want.

“Need you.”

He hums, the noise lumbering from his chest in a pleased, dark sound.

“You have me,” he soothes, even as he feels dizzy with your own desire, a headrush of desperation–of need that rushes from you to him.

Feed me, need me, fill me, possess me, take, take, take me. Fill. Aching–so empty, I’m so empty. Please, please, it hurts– please, I need more, need, need, need–

He lets out a harsh breath. It aches, almost sharply, almost on the wrong side of pain and pleasure.

He does not torment you any longer. He does not torment himself, either.

With fingers far more nimble than he feels, he loosens his slacks, he pushes his clothes out of the way just enough, enough to take himself in hand and hiss through his teeth as the head of his cock touches your slick folds.

Molten. Fluttering still with sensitivity, with desperation.

Your hips roll, eager, trying to urge him closer, inside–

“Morax–” you cry and the sound twists something in his chest, blooms like a bruise being pressed on.

He presses inside you and fills you in one, deep thrust.

You gasp sharply, you pull at him, force him to collapse over you nearly, cover you completely. You cling to him, you wrap yourself around him like a serpent, now constricting him–

(He’s never been able to tell who is the serpent and who is the mouse, anyways. Who is the tiger or the deer? Was he capturing you? Or were you always capturing him?)

You hold him so tightly, calves flexing around his back, that he can hardly pull out from you to thrust.

He groans, almost in frustration, or maybe some form of defeat.

“Darling,” he gets out roughly, “my love. My little god.”

The old, affectionate nickname burns through you and he can feel the desire like a knife’s blade in his own stomach. You moan– a soft, warbling sound.

He manages to move his hips, barely leaving the hot clutch of you, to push back in deeper, harder.

“Please–” you gasp, “more–kiss me. Touch me.”

“So demanding,” he scolds, but he kisses you hard, with too much teeth and roughness, and fits his palms over the sides of your body. He takes handfuls of curves, of your waist and your breasts, rough hands bending over the lines of you the way the light of the moon bends over the hills and valleys of his land.

His next thrust is harder, a little rougher. You turn your face into his throat after you break the kiss and your teeth sink down into him hard.

You always draw blood. You always have to leave your mark on him, on all that you’ve touched.

But then you draw your tongue over the wound, licking softly, perhaps in apology. Perhaps to satiate another need that winds around inside you.

Your hand tangles in his hair again and he bites back another raw groan as he thrusts, in and out, on a slow, rough drag. You’re clinging to him, tight and so wet that it’s making his thoughts bleary and clouded. Your lust shadows any rationality; your hunger possesses him.

“Harder,” you gasp, you beg, you plead.

And he thinks who am I to deny you? Who am I to deny the god of my hunger?

His hand slips over your arm, your free one clawing at his clothed back still. He knows you will mourn not getting your nails into his skin after, but he will let you satiate the need all you like later. He’ll savor the way you try to tear him apart, like he always does.

(And sometimes, he swears, you’re just trying to tear down his skin to be closer. Deeper in him. Scratching at his ribs and his sides like you want in, in, in. A bad dog at his door. A wraith that claws at his soul.)

As he pulls at your forearm, flattening it out against the desk beneath you to pin you beneath him, he knocks into the bowl of fruit.

The last of the plum slices tip out onto the desk and the remaining juice at the bottom of the bowl pools in a sticky mess over the wood, some over your forearm and wrist, over his own, too.

He thinks you move without thinking, bringing his wrist up to your lips where you lick up a stripe up into his palm, against his thumb.

You take his thumb into your mouth with ease and he cups your cheek in a possessive hold as he lets you suckle, tongue soft and warm and gentle against the pad of it. You groan, lashes fluttering, and this seems to please some part of you.

His thumb in your mouth, cock lodged deep inside you.

He pushes himself deeper on his next thrust, enough that you whine a little, eyes going glassy, cheeks hollowing around his thumb.

He can feel the spit pooling in your mouth, wet and slick, can feel the way your walls squeeze and flutter around him desperately.

He presses on your tongue, thrust growing a little faster, but still hard, deep–a little ruthless.

But it’s what you need–so it’s what he gives you.

You hold his wrist, little nails digging into his skin, desperate to keep his thumb between your lips. He can feel the press of your teeth in the meat of his hand.

He readjusts, tries to draw his thumb out barely, only for you to latch down tighter on his wrist, and slide it back into your mouth with a noise of protest. Saliva spills a little, slick and messy against your bottom lip, against his hand.

He coos, but it’s too dark to sound reassuring, and sounds more like a rough purr, just shy of a pleased growl.

“I won’t go anywhere,” he soothes lowly, but it sounds like less of a comfort from a husband, and more of a promise from the beast you shouldn’t have let in in the first place. It’s loving in the same way a possession is. “My little god, I have you now.”

Your peak this time makes something inside of him roar open. He feels your inner muscles bear down on him, fluttering desperately.

Your eyes tip behind your eyelids, hiccuped breath against his hand as it twists into a guttural sound that he feels against his palm.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, turning your face so that he can press open mouthed kisses against your throat, suck a bruise there, turn the flesh tender, “I’ve got you. Good girl–that’s it.”

Perhaps he draws blood when he bites you this time, too. Tastes it sharp on his tongue, the blood of a god. He lifts his head from your neck and finally draws his thumb from your mouth, spit slick as he traces your bottom lip. He pulls himself up from you to gaze down at you, slack jawed and messy, near feverish with your lust.

His hips quicken, harder, and you reach out to splay your hand out against his tensing stomach, to push at him a little.

But he doesn’t stop, feels you nip at his thumb, still making a mess of your lips and chin.

Your legs are still hitched tight around him, drawing him in, keeping him close.

He squeezes your hip with his free hand, he loses his rhythm when you draw his thumb back into your mouth, suckling softly on it.

He groans, feels his own pleasure in a rush down his spine, a burst of heat that unfurls like a supernova. Collapses inward. Expands outwards. He buries himself inside of you, as deep as he can manage, deep enough that you make a little noise of pain maybe, but you hold him tight to you. Again, you constrict around him, dragging him back down by his clothes to slot your mouth against his as he fills you.

It’s your turn to hum, pleased, almost purring, tightening your hold around him, locking him against you.

The kiss this time is slower, but dirtier, all tongue, open and messy. He groans into it, holding your jaw, feeling himself twitch inside of you, his own eyes fluttering with pleasure, lashes against your cheek.

When you both pull away, you’re out of breath. Chests rising and falling against each other.

You seem subdued now, heavy-lidded, but your lips drag to his cheek, down to the curve of his jaw.

You roll your hips a little.

“More–” You murmur, “I want more.”

His laugh tapers into a moan. He flexes his hips a little, heat simmering beneath his own skin.

Your hands pull at his clothes finally, tugging at them, pulling at buttons until they snap and burst beneath your fingers, until you reveal bare skin. Instantly, your hands are on him, nails scratching into his chest gently, over his shoulders.

(He’s going to take you to bed after this and he’ll rid you of the scraps of your clothes and the rest of his. He'll get rid of anything between you.)

The ache in him builds again and suddenly he’s rocking into you again, deep and slow, watching the way he disappears inside of you. The mess he’s already made of you, the way he wants to make it all worse. He feels feverish himself now, a little lost to the sight– his desire suddenly feels inhuman. Monstrous. Too big for his own skin.

You always seem to remind him of his divinity.

“Hold me,” you demand now and as if commanded, he goes to you.

He gets his arms around you and he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. His desire unwinds. Time unspools from him. He loses himself in the pull of you, in the undertow of desire and hunger. He tries to satiate the ache you have carved in him. The ache you always have nestled inside of you.

You beg him of more–more pain and more pleasure and more of him–until he feels near mindless with it. Gone with it.

Shuddering with sensitivity and feeling you tremble with it, too.

He doesn’t regain himself until another peak has been reached and fallen from, until he realizes the hour; the moon hanging in the window of his study like a copper penny. He forces himself to slow. To lodge himself deep and go still inside of you and let his head fall to your chest.

You cradle his skull, fingers slipping into his hair, catching your breath as the haze fades for a moment.

He picks his head up barely, shifts only so he can catch your gaze.

“Stay for a while.” He demands now.

You let go of a sigh, deep, perhaps tired.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed.” You hum softly.

“Will you behave?” He asks and you lean down to kiss him–sweeter now. Perhaps apologizing. He accepts your affection with warmth, though.

“You know how I get restless.” You respond, fingers tracing along the nape of his neck, one of them trailing down the bend of his jaw.

You are softest now, like this. It’s a rare sight; one he savors, one he will stay hungry for his whole life, he thinks.

“Yes,” he agrees, perhaps fondly, perhaps sadly. “If you could keep mortals out of it, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Even if I tried to kill you again?” You ask, finger tracing the bow of his upper lip.

He smiles faintly and you touch the corner of his mouth, “yes,” he agrees, “even then.”

“Or tried to steal your Gnosis again?”

He snorts softly, picking himself up further to hover over you, to gaze down at you with more love than you have ever known what to do with. “You can certainly try again.”

“Perhaps I should try harder this time.” The threat is fangless this time and you are at least soothed somewhat for now. He knows it won’t last long.

But for now, he takes advantage of it. He cups your cheek, brushes his thumb along your jaw affectionately, and for once, you nuzzle into the touch. You rub your cheek into his palm like a cat.

A flash of your teeth. You bite down into his hand.

He laughs softly, but pulls his hand from you, dislodges your teeth from his flesh.

Slowly, he tries to detangle himself from you. You are reluctant, but he appeases you with promises of more, of his bedroom. Of a bath and whatever you want.

“More plums,” you say, letting him carry you to his bedroom like a young bride, cradled in his arms. “I’ve always loved plums.”

He smiles, “I know. They remind me of you.”

The admittance is a tender one, one that he has held for centuries that has finally loosened from his mouth like a bird taking to flight.

In the morning, when you have slipped from him and his bed and his life once more, all that’s left are the marks you left on him, the deep scratches and latches of your teeth on tan skin–

And the pits of plums you devoured before you left. Not one is spared and he thinks his heart never has been, either.

Not from you, his wife, his curse, his love–not from his god of hunger.

***

a/n part ii: thank you for reading!! here are those notes on the reader's godly names:

There are three titles the reader is referred to. Two of them are latin, similar to Rex Lapis, and the third is from @itoshisoup, and is Tanai Zhenjun, which mao explained as such: "贪爱 (tanai) is a Buddhist term that is often translated as "craving", and refers to desire for both physical and mental things. From my understanding, tanai is sometimes considered a cause of suffering (苦 or ku), but is sometimes considered closely related to suffering in other ways. Given the motif of hunger, I would name the god Tanai, and additionally give them the honorific "Zhenjun" (a title associated with Taoist gods - much like "Dijun", which is the honorific in Zhongli's Chinese title, Yanwang Dijun; however, it is a lesser title than Dijun). Tanai Zhenjun is therefore what I'd call them."

The other two are Deus Inanis and Rapax Regina, which mean "empty god" and "rapacious/ravenous queen" in Latin.

i plan to write more of this reader and use these godly names again soon <3

#zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x y/n #cielo collabs!#cielo writes!#cielo's writing!#god of my hunger

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