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ushidoux · 3 years

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Good Teacher - Sugawara x Reader

Summary: You meet Sugawara on an online dating app expecting something tame, but get more than you expected. (~3.1k words)

Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, some features are described ***, dom/sub dynamics, collaring, daddy kink, breathplay, dacryphilia, spanking, edging, toy use, restraint use, sub drop

A/N: Again, this was a commission so some features are described!! Otherwise, please enjoy my first longer BDSM fic.

---

Being alone in your bedroom at 9pm on a Friday night may have felt like a loss on any other day, but today, with your phone buzzing non-stop and every neuron in the sexy parts of your brain firing, you could not think of anything else you would rather do.

Well, actually you could think of a few, and most of them involved slipping out of your pajamas and slipping under your new flame.

Sugawara Koushi.

A name like that sounded sweet. Maybe even bland. Safe.

When you’d swiped right on his profile on the tamer of your social media apps, you’d expected someone mild-mannered and easy to speak to. He was an elementary school teacher with soft features, white hair and a cute mole under his left eye. He couldn’t possibly be as forward as the other guys you’d dealt with over the years. A tame, responsible choice.

You’d started texting back and forth quickly, with polite, formal introductions which progressed to cute messages and long phone calls, and you’d even managed a very chaste first date where he’d picked you up at 8pm on the dot and taken you to a fine restaurant on the water.

You normally would have expected to be dicked down that night, and had paired sexy lingerie under your silky mauve dress for exactly that, but you weren’t too surprised when he left you at your doorstep with a peck on the forehead.

The only unsettling thing about the kiss was the way his eyes had lingered on your lips, just as his fingers trailed the curve of your jaw as he tucked your hair behind your ear. It was too practiced, too… dominant.

You suspected he was holding something back.

And he was, because once you’d ventured to call in the middle of the night, a little bit tipsy and yearning for a little bit more than a smile and a gentle touch from him, you’d broken some sort of dam.

He’d called you a needy, desperate, pretty little slut, desperate for Daddy’s cock but needing to prove herself that she was willing to ride with Daddy’s very, very strict set of rules first, and you’d practically cum at the sudden turn of his voice.

Now anything was fair game.

I have… particular taste. Are you sure you can keep up, princess?

The warmth between your legs and the image of full balls and a weighty, rigid cock told you, you would absolutely be ready for anything he had in store for you.

Yes, daddy. I’m up for anything you want.

You, of course, couldn’t see the wide smile spreading across his face on the other end, as he palmed his cock slowly while reading your texts and admiring your nudes, and texted back:

We’ll need a shit ton of rope.

---

Sugawara’s hands are much larger than you’d anticipate, and rougher, and you wonder how much of it is due to high school athletics or from the fact that he’s quick to slap or spank you at any chance he gets. Your skin is sometimes red, sometimes bruised, and always marked, and it’s exactly the way you like it.

The first time you have sex, he starts you off as though you are the most shy of virgins even though you claim that you’re not exactly inexperienced.

“I wouldn’t want to break you, pretty girl,” he teases, as his hands worship your body, tracking down your waist to the center of your legs, and patting your cunt softly. Today, he’s promised to focus on your pleasure only because he wants to “break you in.” You wonder how many he’s “broken in,” then you realize you don’t really care. You’re his one and only princess right now, and you intend to be for quite a while.

The pleasure of being a good dom is that he can choose to serve - he can choose to be doting and he can choose to be harsh with punishment. Since it’s your first day since you’ve entered this contract with him, he’s decided to focus on the catering part of his personality, and familiarize you with his desires.

The rose-gold Turian collar on your neck compliments your skin well, he takes note, as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth and leans you against him while you are seated on the edge of the bed and he’s kneeling just so before you, fingers deep in your cunt.

“You’re gonna keep that pretty little thing around your neck, aren’t you, pretty baby?”

His fingers move so fast that it’s hard for you to speak, and the arm that’s wrapped around your waist and keeping you flush against him is tightening the longer he continues. He’s a lot stronger than he looks, you know from every heavy spank he’s given you.

“I-I will, daddy, every day and every night,” you pant out, your tongue lolling as his fingers curve upwards and his lips leave your nipple with a soft pop and make their way to your quivering mouth.

“Good,” he whispers as he bites your lower lip. “You’re so obedient… I like that in a little one,” he affirms.

---

He’s kind when he teaches, patient even.

He’s also generous; he gifts you with your first corset, a dark, lacy and tight thing that almost takes your breath away initially, especially when he tightens it onto you himself. Even if it’s constraining, you feel empowered from the very moment you look in the mirror. Your breasts sit high, and you spin once in a gesture of delight; he kisses down your neck as you admire yourself.

“This is only to get you used to a little bit of restriction,” he reassures, as he pulls you into his lap. “But I can’t deny that you look breathtaking.”

---

Since you’ve been so bold as to take his breath away, it isn’t too long until he decides he wants to see what you look like when you’re truly struggling for air. After all, the little shiny thing around your neck catches his eye way too often for his comfort, and his pants suddenly feel too tight for a casual grocery store run.

Your safeword is red, like the blood that courses through your veins as his fingers tighten around your throat.

He thumbs your pink, puffy lips, and it would be loving if he wasn’t calling you a stupid little cocktease.

“Pretty little bambi, prancing around like you’re free to be with anyone other than me.”

The breath that tickles your face is a taunt, because you’re slowly getting lightheaded, barely able to focus on the long index finger he’s commanding you to suck.

The pressure he puts on your neck is varying; for moments you can draw a single staccato breath, which encourages him to press his lips to yours and absorb you in a kiss before he reapplies pressure; his naked body presses against yours, rolling painstakingly slow. He hasn’t even entered you yet.

Breathplay, he calls it.

You gasp as his cock slips into your wet entrance just as fast as his hand leaves your throat, and he too draws a deep breath as he fills you to the hilt.

He lets out a soft laugh as he caresses the hair that is sticking to your face, and readjusts himself yet again - of course, he’s also better endowed than you’d expect him to be - before he picks up speed and chokes you again.

---

“I… Kou-”

“Daddy,” he stresses, unphased as he continues to press a small clitoral stimulator to your tender, overworked bud.

“D-Daddy~” you cry out in a soft, drawn out whine, and you shift a little bit because the ties that keep your ankles attached to the legs of the chair, your pussy exposed and vulnerable with your crotch wide open, are starting to dig into your skin. But you can’t move all that much, there’s additional rope around your waist that keeps you against the back of the chair and you think the soft satin that keeps your wrists behind you is probably overkill, even if you have to admit you like the color.

“Yes, sweetheart~” he whispers in a voice accented with assertive sweetness, his eyes still lowered and focused on the heave of your chest as he watches you drip before him.

“I-”

You scream.

He’d angled the toy upwards, and somehow within the small bundle of nerves he’s targeted an even more precise cluster of endings - there’s a flash of white you see before you cum practically violently, lurching forward so rapidly that he has to keep the chair steady so that you won’t fall over on the pretty little face he adores.

It’s possibly the fourth time he’s had to ground you in the past hour, and it’s an act of mercy because he had been edging you repeatedly, forcing your pussy to clench desperately around nothing but air.

The way you gush and spray so lewdly onto the chair, onto the floor, onto the hand he plays on your sopping wet pussy reminds him he chose very, very well.

---

It’s nearly silent and it’s dark now, far too dark for you to see.

Your Koushi has prepared you for this next step lovingly, sometimes not so lovingly over the past couple of weeks to build up to this.

The blindfold that obscures your vision is soft and slightly sweet smelling, as though spritzed with a floral scent about a day ago prior to this. Again your hands are bound, but he’s used lined handcuffs instead of ties, and your wrists are before you, not behind you.

But you’re lying on your belly, a spreader forcing your thighs apart. He must really love the way your pussy looks staring him in the face.

“You seem to be a glutton for punishment, princess,” he says, accenting his words with a hard slap on your inner thigh. You gasp, but his hands linger tighten, and are then followed by what can only be the press of his tongue against the stinging portion.

“Daddy, I’ll behave, I’m so sorry,” you moan as his hand grips a generous portion of your asscheek.

But you won’t behave, because you’ve learned that Suga likes just a touch of bratty behavior and that gets him quite physical with you. He knows this just as much as you.

He slaps your ass fervently, the slight jiggle drawing a pleased sigh from his lips.

“You’re a silly little slut, though…” he starts, rubbing a hand along the length of your thigh, “how can I trust any of your promises?”

His finger travels to your open center, and when he sees you tense up, he stops.

“You need a firm hand to guide you always…”

His right hand curves again around your cunt and his middle and ring finger finds its way into your slippery hole, while his index taps your clit and his little finger (he’s dexterous like this), taps ever so lightly around your asshole.

You shudder.

“Arch your back, you little cumslut. Make it easy for daddy.”

As you inch backwards slowly using your elbows and knees to rise up, his right hand continues to move with you, but then his other hand lands heavily on your other asscheek.

It breaks your concentration and you almost fall because it takes quite a lot more energy than you would expect to move this way with your hands bound and your legs spread, but you persevere.

For him.

Before you can whine once you’ve gotten into position, he withdraws his hand from your cunt.

“No!” You find yourself shrieking before you realize. You can’t have him edge you again, he’s absolutely cruel, you can’t…

“Oh, I thought I called the shots here, princess,” Sugawara reminds you, voice honeyed and cruel. You can feel his fingers weave into your hair and the warm tip of what must be his cock prod at your entrance.

“Sir, please~”

“Beg.”

He spreads you open with a hand massaging your ass, again tapping teasingly all around your vagina, but he won’t push in to give you the pleasure of having his cock inside you.

Your heart is pounding with desire.

“Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please fill me up, daddy!”

That statement of desire earns you an inch, an inch that makes you swallow saliva hard and your muscles tense with need and want.

“M-more, more please!”

“You’re so demanding. I would say your eyes are bigger than your pretty little pussy, but you can’t see, can you?”

He laughs, but he pushes in further another inch, than another, moving painstakingly slow, slow enough that you’re biting your lower lip until blood is drawn. The stretch is achingly delicious but it leaves you starved for more.

You’re begging and whining, and soon you’re trying your best to sink onto him further but he’s got you restrained for a reason.

“Greedy little bitch,” he murmurs, but he kisses your neck lovingly as he fills you to the hilt.

The unmistakable noise of flesh hitting flesh and minimal friction fills the room but you care less about sound, only about the slap of his balls against your cunt as he thrusts into you from behind.

More. Deeper. Faster. Harder.

He’s a master at drawing desire out of you, you wonder if you even needed these toys and ties and other accoutrements. You’re already so utterly wrapped for him.

---

There’s a movie playing on your screen that you had both been pretending to watch, cuddled together on the couch, your legs resting across his lap. You had barely gotten through the opening credits before he pulled you onto him fully and had you straddle him.

“You want a snack, pretty baby?” He whispers, as though it weren’t just the two of you staring in each other’s eyes.

Your eyelashes bat and you nod.

He doesn’t break eye contact while he reaches for a strawberry, fresh from the farmer’s market you’d strolled through this morning, from a bowl set on the table.

This one is drizzled in chocolate, and he runs it along the length of your collarbone, eye contact still heavy and unflinching before he dips down to catch it in his mouth.

It hangs out halfway from his teeth and he cues you to take it from him mouth to mouth. You split half of it, letting the sweet tartness permeate your senses.

His arm hooks around your waist and pulls you in close as he presses his lips against yours. You weren’t aware of the glob of strawberry-flavored saliva he’d collected until he draws away, tilts your head back and tells you to open up wide so he can spit directly into your mouth.

---

“Swallow.”

Suga’s relentlessly pounding an erect, frustrated and thick cock into your mouth, past your teeth and down your poor throat, and he’s close to his release now, you can tell by the way he’s now pressed your face so far against him that his carefully cropped pubes prick your face.

He’s warning you beforehand, and you’re thankful for the warning because when he cums with a soft, almost angelic moan, his penis jerks inside your mouth ever so slightly, and there’s a gush of hot, slippery liquid that slides down your throat.

You breathe through your nose. He tastes sweet, maybe it’s because of the strawberries from just earlier today, but nevertheless it’s a pleasant liquid you gulp down around his cock.

He loves the way your throat feels when it clamps around him, especially when you initially gag once accepting his cock.

You’re perfect.

“Come up, darling,” he bids you, pulling you up from your position on your knees.

“Are you gonna fill me up, daddy?” You mewl softly as he lifts up and carries you before laying you on your back.

“Yes, pretty baby, but let me taste your juicy little cunt first,” he says before he dives in between your legs.

---

“You’re so good for me, you know that, don’t you?”

He kisses your neck softly as he holds you close to him while you lay in bed together. It’s close to 1am and he’s focused on aftercare, caressing your arms and waist and the curve of your hip gently. You’re facing away from him, not because you’re upset, but because you’re exhausted.

He’s worried you’re having a sub-drop; after all, he’s spent the last two hours slapping your face and calling you disgusting. He wonders if you forgot to use your safe word.

You’re new to this and he’s put you through a lot in the past few weeks.

“Sweetness,” he whispers, directly into your ear. “Look at me?”

You turn, cheeks still flushed from particularly hard slaps. His heart aches a bit for you, because those sweet lips are pulled downwards into a frown and he’s not sure if those are fresh tears that wet your eyelashes.

He kisses your eyelids then rests his chin on the top of your head.

“Are you doing okay, my princess?”

You nod and reach for his face with your fingertips. Your dom softens under your touch because you are so precious to him. His fingers close around yours and he kisses your forehead.

“The most important thing is your comfort,” he asserts. He taps the collar around your neck that suggests in some way that you are his and he is yours. “You can take this off at any time.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face into his chest. It’s been fun and it’s also been freeing to have him take care of you. There’s a soft haze that wafts around your brain lately as you surrender to him. You are in love with him, deeply, in such a short amount of time.

“I would never,” you say, finally.

His heart skips a beat.

“Unless you want to buy me a nicer one, of course.”

He chuckles.

“You’re a feisty little one, aren’t you?” He remarks. He’s glad to look down at you and see you smiling again, eyes bright and brown. He reaches for your ass cheek, then raises your leg so that it lies across his hip.

Your eyes twinkle with mischief.

“Well, that’s why you picked me to teach, isn’t it?” You raise an eyebrow, and the cheeky grin on your face is enough to make him get absolutely hard again.

Of course, only if you’re up to the task.

Suga bites gently on your lip again, his hand on your thigh.

“I didn’t expect you to learn so quickly.”

“Maybe you really do have the gift of teaching,” you reply, as you stick your tongue into his mouth.

#sugawara x reader #suga x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara smut #haikyuu smut #fic: good teacher #not sfw #commission work #mae.writing #hqintheclub

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beskar-cowboy · 4 years

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The Best Things Dwell Out of Sight

Part 4 of The Best Things Dwell Out of Sight Series

Summary: You catch an accidental glimpse of the Mandalorian without his helmet, his instincts kick in. (4.4k words) link to read on ao3 here

Warnings: NSFW, Mando is kind of mean, the helmet is off but its still canon?, PIV sex, rough sex, he low-key kinda threatens the reader idk, spanking, soft ending to make up for whatever the fuck i just wrote <3

A/N: this series will be uploaded in a non-linear order! i realize that this way of doing things might not be everyone’s favourite so please let me know if you would like to be notified when all the parts are uploaded (linearly in my masterlist) <3

Perhaps swaddling the child to your chest on a desert planet was not the smartest idea. The heat was blistering, even though you wore less layers than usual. Just a tank top, some utility shorts and a blaster holstered to your thigh. And the baby of course, who had not stopped babbling since you left the ship, the only thing distracting you from this damned heat.

You could only imagine how Mando was feeling underneath all that beskar as he walked alongside you in silence, only stealing glances every now and then, as he usually did.

Even after travelling with them for half a cycle now, Mando still withheld so much from you.

Even after the two of you slept together for the first time, after some close call on some jungle planet, he still retreated into his usual silence.

But there were more gentle touches now, more lingering hands, more helmet tilts, but he still hadn’t let you in. You were okay with that, you knew that this was what he was used to, so you didn’t think too much about it.

You let him take what he needs without asking too many prying questions. If you were being honest, you liked the way he used you, you liked how he took it out on you, you liked how rough he got, how possessive, how starved he could be.

It had only amounted to a couple of times over the last month but… but you loved it. You looked forward to it, you thought about it, dreamt of… dreamt of him, of Mando, inside you, above you, under you-

Mando squeezed his large hand around your bicep, breaking you from your thoughts before nodding to you, then he departed. Off to meet with… whoever.

You stayed in the market and bought stuff for the ship.

Some new screws and bolts for parts that were missing or had to be fixed, food rations, dried meat, fruits that you knew Mando was fond of, some weird, shiny little trinkets the child seemed attracted to, and a new bar of soap. You had just finished the last one a few days prior.

After buying the necessities, you wandered around the little market with the child, bouncing him up and down against your chest and talking to him softly. He was very responsive today, not seeming too bothered by the heat thankfully.

But the sun was high in the sky, most likely at its peak, and it was unrelenting. The desert environment of the planet gave way to little shaded spots so you looked for water instead, finding a little mist station where children laughed and played. You ran through it a few times with the child, he screeched with joy.

On your last run through the mist, you caught sight of Mando approaching the two of you again.

That saunter… the way he walked was so intimidating, so sensual. You couldn’t help but let a shy smile stretch across your face at the people who cowered away in fear of the bounty hunter.

You made sure you had all your things in your sling, checking to see that the child hadn’t dropped his new toy and then you were off, heading back to the ship.

The walk felt longer now due to the long exposure you both had in the sun. Mando seemed to be trudging along just the same as you, profusely sweating and in desperate need for some water. And a shower.

Mando opened the hatch and you both stumbled inside, dropping your bags and untying the child from your chest where he had left a giant sweat stain from how tightly he had been pressed to you. Suddenly aware of how sweaty, sticky and disgusting you must seem, the only thing on your mind was a shower.

“I got you some Meiloorun, they seemed ripe.” You smiled at him as you gently placed the child on the floor of the Crest. He waddled towards his father, trying to show him his new toy.

“Thank you, that’s very kind.” He said in your direction, that deep modulated voice making you shiver. He seemed hesitant to look away, but picked up the child regardless, letting him show off his new shiny thing. Mando took it into his hands, playing with him, you smiled fondly.

“I’m going to go take a shower if that’s okay? To cool down a bit.” You’re not sure why you felt the need to ask his permission after all this time but you still felt the need sometimes. Maybe he would want help putting the stuff away that you had bought, maybe he wanted you to help with the child or something? You just couldn’t help the way your mind only fixated on the sweat and grime sticking to your flesh.

“Of course.” Mando nodded. You nodded back, turning on your heels to head into the ‘fresher just around the corner in the low cabin of the Crest.

You leave the door open, you think you don’t mind Mando seeing you if he decides to look or happens to catch a glimpse. Even though he’s never taken any of his armor off (besides his gloves) for you before, he’s seen every single inch of you.

You quickly peeled off your damp clothing, turning the water on and making sure it wasn’t too cold but cool enough to relax your heat exhausted body. You stepped in quickly, eager to cool yourself down.

You visibly relaxed as soon as the water hit your burning skin, your shoulders sagging, a sighing escaping your lips. You dug your fingers into your own flesh, trying to knead the tender muscles which strained under the weight of the child and the supplies. It wasn’t much but you still ached, the heat had definitely contributed to that.

Supplies… your new bar of soap! You had been excited to use it but completely forgot about it the second you returned to the ship, mind wiped blank by the desire to rid yourself of your dirty clothes.

Suddenly thankful you left the door to the refresher open, you stick your head out from behind the curtain and call for Mando, wondering if he could retrieve the sparkly blue soap bar for you.

Instead of being met with an empty doorway, you’re met with something else. And it’s as if the world moved around you in slow motion, your emotions moving over you like molasses.

First, confusion.

Hair. A head full of light brown, golden hair. It curled near the ends, into little wisps. It couldn’t be-

No. That couldn’t be Mando. It was as if your brain refused to acknowledge the shiny beskar that sat underneath that head of hair, refusing to realize it was the tin covered man you were looking at.

Second, curiosity.

Your eyes scanned over his head, taking in the way the bathroom light shined over his hair, making it reflect all different shades of brown and caramel.

It was now that you realized that his head was turning, that’s why the light was bouncing off it so dynamically.

His head continued to turn. An ear.

Third, shock.

It was only when you saw the sliver of skin, the shell of his ear, the inner workings of the intricate cartilage, and the profile of his supple cheekbone that you let out a startled, and perhaps unnecessary, shriek.

Your hands flew up to cover your eyes, to shield them from the forbidden view. You turned back into the shower, facing the wall, away from Mando.

He saw more of you than you had of him. He saw the way your chest heaved, the way the water flew off your body as you twirled to face the tiled wall of the shower, away from him. He watched the water hit your back-

You had seen him. Or at least, that’s what he thought.

He hated the way his instincts kicked in. He hated the way he was trained to kill whoever saw him, whoever looked, whoever dared unmask him.

Almost innately, his hand reached for the light switch, plunging the refresher into darkness as he stalked towards you, pressing his hand to your head and pinning you against the cool tile of the shower forcefully and efficiently.

Mando’s body followed suit, bringing both of you underneath the steady shower stream, pinning himself against your backside. The cold bite of his beskar in contrast to the cool water making you whimper, the force of his hand pressing your cheek into the wall made you see stars behind closed eyelids.

“What did you see?” He asked, voice gruff, strained, unmodulated.

Fuck.

Of all the months you had spent aboard the Razor Crest, living with him, fucking him, you had never heard his voice without the helmet, without some sort of barrier. You regret the way it made you moan, how easily he could make you melt.

“N-nothing, I didn’t-”

“What did you see?” He pressed onto your harder, with his hand and his body weight, pining you completely to the wall, making you at his mercy. You cry out at his cold touch, at his harshness. Mando had been frustrated, even angry, with you before but now… now he was about to truly end you.

But all you could think about was how beautiful his real voice sounded. It always sounded beautiful to you, from the moment you met him, it had made you weak, but this… this was unlike anything you could have imagined.

“Hair,” you cry, unsure if you were truly crying or if it was just water from the endless stream running above both of you now. “I s-saw your hair, your ear… I-I’m sorry-” You hiccup, trying to regain your breath and not inhale too much water as your chest heaved.

Without the helmet Mando was quickly realizing that he could genuinely hear you for the first time, your trembling voice ringing through his ears without being slightly distorted by the helmet’s filters. He could….

He could smell you too. The sweet scent of your skin, of your wet hair tangling in his fingers as he continued to hold you in between the tiles and his unforgiving beskar.

You… the sight of you pinned against him, your wet skin, water dripping down your flesh in rivulets, your whimpers, your cries, your tears, the way your eyes closed, the way you kept them closed even now, drowning in darkness, your cheek flush against the tile.

Completely at his mercy.

You weren’t even fighting him.

“Fuck.” He groaned, leaning his forehead against your temple. You whimpered at his sudden movement, so on edge.

You knew he was trained to kill. You knew what happened to people who even attempted to look at him. You had seen it, you had been there when it happened once, ignorant vendors trying to taunt him, trying to tease the Mandalorian. How stupid they were, now dead somewhere in a ditch. Would he do that to you? It would be so easy for him...

Mando wondered if you could see him in the darkness as well as he could see you. He knew you couldn’t, the lack of windows deprived the room of any light sources. Luckily, his eyes were trained and used to harsh environments, low visibility. Luckily, he could see you trembling against him.

He removed his hand from your head, sliding both of his hands now to hold your hips, digging his blunt nails into the flesh, leaving crescent moon-shaped indents behind. You yelped at the sting but didn’t pull away. You liked it.

“I’m sorry-”

“Stop talking.” He growled and you bit your lip, unaware that you had opened your eyes due to the deep, dark abyss you had been plunged into.

You could truly not see a thing. All your senses became focused on the way Mando touched you, the way he’s wedged you between the wall and himself, the death grip he had on your hips, the way his breaths came out quickly and evenly onto your cheek. He was breathing almost as hard as you were.

He nudged his nose onto your cheek and you nudge your cheek back onto him, trying to remind him that it was just you, that you’re not a threat, it’s just you, it’s just you, it’s just you.

This is The Way. This is The Way… This is The Way… This… is-

Fuck. You were distracting him. Your little whimpers, the way you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. So willing, you were always so willing for him. So fucking easy and it drove him crazy.

His skin… it felt so good against yours. You had only felt the rough, rarely tender caress of his rough palms. Never of his face, his lips, his nose… You felt like you were being driven insane, you couldn't believe how close his unmasked face was to yours.

You could kiss him…

Mando continued to rub his nose against you, suddenly so lost in the feel of your skin against his. No one had ever been so close to him, so invasively close, breathing in and breathing out the same air, sharing. Feeling your eyelashes flutter against his own, your lips, open panting, swollen and pliant and inviting. He could… he could-

“Mando-”

You’re cut off by his hand suddenly slithering down your body and cupping your cunt. You gasp, unable to help the way your hips involuntarily rock into his hand, into his own hips as well, feeling a growing hardness between his legs.

You were hot, so, so hot down between your thighs. Slippery too, and Mando knew it wasn’t just the water. It was thick, sticking to his fingers, practically begging for him. Mando groaned against your open lips, both of you panting into each other’s open mouths.

“You... you fucking like this, don’t you?” He rasped, biting onto the side of your bottom lip. You whimpered, hips bucking into his hand again. What were you supposed to say? How were you to answer that?

Yes Mando, I like how fucking intimidating you are.

Yes Mando, I like how much bigger you are than me, how easy it would be for you to snap me like a twig.

Yes Mando, I like when you’re rough with me, I get off on it, I crave it, I-

“Fucking answer me.” Mando growls, latching his teeth onto your earlobe now. His hand continued to cup your sex, not truly going anywhere near where you needed him. You still couldn’t fucking comprehend that he was without his helmet, his face right next to yours…

“Yes!” You squeaked as his fingers brushed along the inside of your folds, parting you, dragging his fingers along the length of you, slipping through your sweet cyprine. You let out an unholy moan, so ashamed at how easy you were for him.

Mando kisses your ear, trails his tongue down your neck, collecting the water that pebbles down your flesh as if it were syrup.

This… is, The Way. This is- The Way-

His fingers brush up against your clit accidentally and you buck into him again, desperate for any sort of friction, any sort of attention he could give you.

Mando was trying to calm himself down. He had just been on the brink of snapping your neck and now he was overcome with lust, the desire to fuck you, stuff you full of his cock. The two extremes were dizzying, he felt drunk off of some fancy and expensive cider from some far off planet in The Core. But he supposes that’s just what you did to him.

Before he even realizes it, he’s unzipping his pants, letting the top fall undone and pulling his cock out, letting it rest against your backside. You bite your lip, trying to turn your head to look towards him but your eyes are unable to adjust, you feel as though you can see the outline of his face but… but you’re sure it’s an illusion of the dark.

“Please, Mando-” You weren’t one to beg, Mando wasn’t one to make you beg because he was always as desperate, always as pent up, touch-starved, hungry as you were.

When you two fucked it was never slow, never drawn out, never languid, luxurious. No, it was rough, mean, volatile, desperate and just fucking needy. You needed each other, and Mando fucked you like it would always be the last time, every time. Like he would never have you again, like he would never split you open again.

Mando shoves his entire length into you in one hard thrust, knocking the wind out of you from how deep he reaches so easily at this angle. He rests for a moment, savouring the way your pussy flutters and clenches around him from the sudden intrusion, trying to adjust to his substantial length.

His head pressed right up against yours, he can hear all the pretty sounds you're making, even over the loud patter of water against his beskar which begins to weigh him down from how soaking wet it's getting.

But Mando doesn’t care, he can’t, not when you’re whimpering for him in that pretty way you do, not when you clench so tight around him that he feels like he could cum without even having moved. You beg, you beg and beg and beg for him to move but he just closes his eyes and feels you pulse, hot and tight and snug around him with that perfect little cunt of yours.

You hadn’t seen him, he thinks to himself. You hadn’t actually seen him, he’s okay, it’s just you, it’s just you, it’s just you.

You.

Quivering at the end of his cock, moaning, grasping at the tiles, trying to find purchase on something, taking him all the way in like you always do, like a good fucking girl.

He hadn’t even realized that he had started thrusting, in and out with reckless abandon, bottoming out every single time before pounding back into you, making you whimper and cry.

“W-what’s my name?” He asks suddenly, pulling you from floating away towards whatever astral plane you were near close to ascending too, the one his thrusts were pushing you towards as he rearranged you from the inside out.

You had to think, you had to think of his name because your find was blank, he was fucking you dumb.

“Mando.” You whimper, closing your eyes and letting your head rest against the cold tiles, keeping your head turned so that he could keep his face pressed into your cheek, nose nudging yours, lips brushing but not kissing.

“No… what’s my fucking name?” He grits from behind clenched teeth, punctuating his words between harsh, unforgiving thrusts. You hiccup, unable to swallow down air properly as he fucks you into the wall.

His name?

What did he-

Oh.

His name. Mando had never told you his name, his actual name.

Was this a test? You shook your head ‘no’ as his arms wrapped around you, locking you in place as his ungloved hands came to grope at your breasts, using your own body as leverage to fuck into you harder. You let out a wanton moan, throwing your head back, letting it rest on his beskar covered shoulder. You turned your head and let your lips brush against his cheek but he turned his head too, lips brushing against his own and you both gasped and whimpered in unison. He seemed insistent on not kissing you, so you just went along with it, all your wits being literally fucked out of you.

“I-I don’t know.” You finally answered, your voice coming out small, between laboured breaths.

You didn’t know him, he thought. He still had something of his identity held in privacy, you didn’t know him, you didn’t know him.

“You don’t- you don’t know me,” He begins to say and it makes you cry, you cry against his mouth, your body shaking, bouncing against his, water beating down on both of you. “B-but you still let me fuck you like this, don’t you sweet girl?”

You scream. You scream when his hand lets go of your left breast only to come back down onto it, slapping the underside of the supple flesh. You wail and cry and moan the only name he’s ever told you.

Mando, Mando, Mando, Mando, Mando, Mando.

He grabs your jaw in one of his strong hands, angling your face towards his, a sight unseen.

“Answer me when I speak to you, cyar’ika.” He says forcefully, regardless of the nickname.

“Y-yes.” You choke out, trying to nod your head in his tight hold but you barely can. You were right on the brink, you felt as if he were to say one more thing in that deep, rough voice of his you would cum.

“Yes, what?” He grits, fucking your harder, moving his hand down to your neck and pushing you back against the cold tiles, making you yelp and cry for him, at the cool bite of ceramic materials.

“It’s c-cold, Mando.” You whine. He slaps your ass, his hand cracking down on your flesh, no doubt leaving a mark to find again tomorrow. You squeeze your eyes shut, bordering on overstimulation from his cock, his slaps, the water turning colder.

The ship never had a great water supply.

“Answer me.” He fucks you harder, faster, deeper, un-preciously and slaps your ass again, the other cheek this time.

“Y-yes! Yes I..I still l-let you… let you fuck me like this!” You cry and shake against the tile.

Mando’s arms quickly wrap around like they had before, hauling you back into his body. He snakes his hand down and rubs against your clit in fast, precise motions.

Almost instantaneously, your mind goes blank, your eyes roll into the back of your head. One of his arms wraps across your front, against your chest, holding your shoulder in a death grip, his other hand still working on your clit, his thrusts unrelenting as you cum and cum and cum around his thick cock.

“That’s it. That’s it... Good f-fucking girl.” He rasps, holding you tightly, thrusting a few more times before he empties himself inside you with a growl, painting your walls with him, branding you, owning you.

You moan at the sensation, the way his hot cum fills you to the brim before leaking out, back onto his cock and down the backs of your thighs. You both pant, your chest heaving in time with his as he fucks it back into you as deep as it’ll go, stuffing you so, so full of him.

You keep your eyes closed, afraid of opening them, afraid he can see you even in this darkness. Even though you know he can.

Mando stays inside you until he’s softened, relishing in the way your pussy trembles around his girth, sucking him in as deep as you can for as long as possible.

When he eventually does pull out with a low growl, you hear him twist the knobs of the shower, the water suddenly becoming warmer, heating your now freezing skin. All these temperature changes were making you feel light-headed, the rough fuck you just got from Mando not helping your case either.

“Wha-”

“Stay here, warm up.” Mando cuts you off, you hear him step out of the shower.

A series of loud bangs resonate throughout the refresher, making you jump. Only one thing could be that loud. Is he… removing his beskar?

“Mando-”

“You’re always so cold when we’re travelling… can’t believe you were taking a cold shower.” He mumbles to himself, you can imagine him shaking his head. You’re stunned honestly, at how much he’s talking, especially without the helmet, that fact alone still lost on you. His voice was so beautiful, you had thought it to yourself about a hundred times now since you first realized he took the helmet off.

You stand under the warm stream, your quaking shivers slowly dissipating. You feel his presence enter the shower again, this time you can clearly feel his body heat, more flesh. He’s naked.

Mando is standing naked with you in the shower.

You involuntarily step away from him but he catches you, his hand landing on your waist, his hand softly grasping the flesh there. Such a stark contrast to the way he just fucked you into oblivion.

He’s naked.

This man had never removed anything besides his gloves. Even when he fucked you, the armor stayed on. You’re not sure if it was an issue of trust or due to his boundaries or his Creed. But considering he almost just killed you for accidentally seeing his ear and cheek, and was now standing naked with you in the dark… well, maybe it was a bit of both. You were having trouble wrapping your head around all of this, nothing was making sense to you.

The hand on your waist pulls you closer to him, your chests and bellies bump together and you gasp. Mando is firm, you knew this but… but to actually feel him against you, well, you could cry about it honestly.

You felt uncertain about what to do with your hands, unsure if you were allowed to touch him but you tentatively lifted them to his chest anyways, letting them rest against his solid pecs. His skin was soft despite the random series of raised flesh that seemed to brand him, his scars. You don’t think you ever wanted to see someone’s scars, someone’s skin as badly as you do now. But you would right out ask for it, you couldn’t.

You felt Mando lift something to your skin, it was smooth as it glided along your arm, your shoulders, across your back. A fruity, earthy scent filled your nose.

Your bar of soap.

He must have grabbed it before he took off his beskar. You lean into him unknowingly, the hand at your waist moving to hold you against him more easily as he washed you. You let your face rest against his chest, the little spot where his throat meets his collarbones. He smelled like sweat, grime, gun powder, he smelled like Mando.

You pressed your lips to the skin, the skin you knew was tanned and rugged, worn down, tired, in need of more kisses than he would let you give.

At the gentle press of your lips, that’s when Mando speaks again. It’s so hushed amongst the falling water, you almost miss it, but the few words don’t fall deaf to your ears, you hear every letter, every syllable.

“My name...” You look up to where his face would be, trying to imagine what expression he wears as he speaks to you in the dark. Your forehead not too far from his lips, you can almost feel the ghost of them on your flesh.

“My name is Din.”

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #reader insert #din djarin #the mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #my writing #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you

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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

A Game of Cat and Mouse

Pairing: Iwaizumi x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Cop and Criminal AU (Cop Iwaizumi, Criminal Reader), NSFW, Sex Toys, Degradation, Overstimulation, Bondage

Summary: Bad girls get punished. And criminals who go out of their way to make Iwaizumi’s life hell on a routine basis deserve extra special punishment.

Author’s Note: This is for the NSFW Haikyuu HQ Gifting Event! @multifandhoem I hope you enjoy~ (I really got carried away with the plot in this fic. One day I will learn how to write porn without plot, but for now, please accept my porn with way too much plot.)

Irritating Iwaizumi Hajime might be your favorite activity in the world. There’s just something so satisfying about watching his usually calm and stoic face shatter into an angry feral mess. And maybe, just maybe, something deep in your belly stirs as he growls and snarls at you, something primal in you writhing in excitement as he bares his teeth at you and chases you.

You’ve lived a life of sins and crimes for as long as you can remember, but hard work has taken you a long way. So really, there isn’t any need for you to continue your petty thieving ways. You’re set for life with the money you’ve accrued from the countless successful exchanges you’ve made. It’s almost obscene just how much people are willing to pay for a few shiny stones or swatches of paint on a canvas.

And yet you can’t help yourself from revisiting your bad habits of creeping in the shadows, analyzing floor plans, strategizing routes. Only now, your plans are centered around a brooding spiky haired cop with the most beautiful green eyes you’ve ever seen instead of the number of zeros at the end of a number.

You don’t know exactly what about Iwaizumi resonates so strongly with you. Sure, he’s handsome, but you’ve run into your fair share of handsome officers. You dare say Officer Sawamura could give Iwaizumi a run for his money in the looks department.

Maybe it’s the hints of wildness you see underneath his straight-laced façade.

Maybe it’s the fire you see blazing behind his reserved countenance.

Whatever it is has you keeping tabs on him, has you concocting plans just sloppy enough for Iwaizumi to get tantalizingly close to you, but put together enough to have you escaping his grasp each and every time. And you cackle at the way his eyes light up when he thinks he has you pinned down, only to furiously scowl at your retreating figure when you taunt him with a flirtatious air kiss and a cheeky “maybe next time, sir”.

It’s an endless game of cat and mouse, but you don’t think you’ll ever tire of it. And you’re beginning to suspect that even Iwaizumi finds it amusing to a certain degree.

You had been at a loss for words when the officer had merely trudged into the jewelry store you had been waiting for him in at your last heist, only to casually lean against the wall, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded you holding the store’s most expensive strings of diamonds and pearls in your hands, teasingly holding them up to his face. And you hesitantly lower your arm, unsure what to do as the silence and stillness of the night stretches.

There’s no growled threats or pointed firearm in your face like there usually would be right about now. And you swear there’s a hint of a smirk on the handsome face across from you as the two of you just stand there, stuck in the strange heady tension filling the air.

But you almost drop everything you’re holding at Iwaizumi’s next words.

“If you want my attention that badly, there are better ways of going about it.”

It’s Iwaizumi’s turn to laugh as your trademark smirk falls off the lower unmasked part of your face and he confidently saunters over to you, strong arms boxing you in against the glass counter, enjoying the rush of power he feels about the tables finally turning as you shyly look anywhere but at him. And something roars triumphantly inside of him when you gasp as he hooks his hand under your chin and forces you to meet him gaze on.

“I’ve spent the last few months wracking my brain for answers. Why were you suddenly committing so many meaningless robberies? Robberies of stores and items so far beneath your caliber? Was it just coincidence that you were only committing crimes on the routes and nights I was working? Was I just imagining that it seemed like you were actively trying to avoid injuring me every time we clashed? None of it made any sense. But then your stupid flirting started and it made me think that maybe there was some rhyme and reason to your suddenly erratic behavior after all.”

There’s silence as he lets you register his words and the rattling of jewelry as he plucks the expensive strands out of your hands and carelessly tosses them back in their case. But he softly smiles when you don’t deny his words and make no move to push him away or escape.

“I believe in new beginnings and fresh starts, so when you’re done with your thieving ways, come find me. I��m curious about the woman under the mask.”

It’s weeks before you have the courage to even secretly trail after Iwaizumi again after that encounter and even then, you don’t do anything but keep watch over him.

His words echo in your mind and you don’t have the urge to steal and ring an alarm to beckon him towards you. Not when the greatest treasure of all is just within your grasp whenever you’re ready to summon the will to finally reveal your identity and meet him person to person in broad daylight instead of slithering around each other in the twisted tango of cop and criminal.

But you aren’t ready yet and you merely keep tabs on him for now, curiosity and protectiveness getting the better of you, and if Iwaizumi notices the moving shadow that seems to follow him wherever he goes, he doesn’t bring attention to it. There’s something comforting, maybe even endearing, about how you’ve become a guardian angel of sorts to him, especially with the increasing body count and grizzly crimes being committed. And although he wishes you were safe and sound, tucked far away from the ricocheting bullets and corpses, his heart warms at the bouquet of lilies he finds on his doorsteps when he stumbles back home, empty and defeated, the weight of his partner’s death from a particularly bloody shootout still fresh on his mind.

There’s no note, no letter, but he knows. Knows that it could only be you, knows that no one outside of his team or the criminals they had been fighting with could possibly know about the death so soon unless they happened to witness the scene. And that night he sobs himself to sleep, clutching your flowers to his chest, unaware of the way you forlornly stare at him from the roof across the street, heart aching and wishing more than anything that you weren’t such a coward, that you were brave enough to slip inside and comfort him in person.

But life has a funny way of working, of not caring if you’re ready or not and your lives crash together once more in an unexpected way.

Iwaizumi is promoted to lead the new task force aimed at squashing down the rising crime syndicates. You’re proud of him, but you can’t quell the anxiety that courses through you as you watch every raid that takes place, wondering if and when the day will come where he’ll be outmaneuvered, keeping your own skills sharp, praying that you’ll never have to use them again, but just in case…

And you thank whoever’s listening that you had kept up with your training as Iwaizumi’s team is ambushed and overpowered one night. Your heart drops and bile rises in your throat as officer after officer crumples to the floor, but you force yourself to calm down, to find an internal steady rhythm as you glide through the shadows, swiftly and secretly making your way towards the man you’ve become so attached to.

You fight down the panic when you finally reach him, try to still the tremble in your hands as you quickly scan the growing dark red stain spreading across his shirt from his wounds, almost collapsing in relief when you find that they’re all superficial wounds, nothing life threatening or critical.

The silent scuffle between the two of you is awful and you’re thankful that blood loss and pain have weakened him as you forcefully drag him away, nails gripping tightly into his skin as you roughly lead him to your apartment despite his struggling, despite his desperate desire to go back and help his few remaining teammates. And you’re both fiercely snarling at each other when you’re finally safe inside your apartment, fury raging in both of you as you snap at each other.

“You should have let me stay and help!”

“So that you could end up dead like the rest of them? You were clearly outpowered and outnumbered!”

“Well you should have just let me die then, instead of helping me escape like a coward.”

A resounding crack echoes throughout the room and it takes you some time to register the smarting pain in the palm of your hand and the fresh red mark on Iwaizumi’s cheek. But before you can even stutter an apology, a hand is fisting the front of your shirt and lips are crashing against yours in an angry impassioned act and you whimper as you are forced to taste his frustration and gratitude, his losses and gain, his despair and hope.

And when he disconnects and the two of you gasp for much needed oxygen, you stand in the middle of your apartment, arms wrapped around each other, only the sounds of Iwaizumi’s sobs and your comforting words flitting through the air as he buries his face in the crook of your neck and you rub soothing patterns on his back.

The rest of the night is a domestic peaceful drawl and you gently lead Iwaizumi to an armchair in your living room before scurrying away to rummage for your first aid kit and returning to kneel between his legs as you clean his injuries, apologizing as he winces at the sting of warm water and soap against his open wounds. There’s a soothing flow as you tend to him and you relax with every swipe of the towel, fingers and hands lingering just a tad longer than they should on his skin. But you stiffen when his uninjured arm raises and calloused fingers lightly trace the bottom of your mask.

There’s an unspoken question in the way he delicately plays around with the corners of the fabric, but it seems deafening to you as your heart races. Maybe it’s the pure intentions in his eyes or the fact that your walls are weakened in the confines of your apartment, but either way, you don’t pull away, tilting your head up and stilling in silent confirmation. And something flutters in your chest as he gingerly removes your mask, heat rising to your face as green eyes stare at your face in awe for the first time, fingertips tracing every inch and line, mapping every groove reverently.

It feels like eternity before you resume dipping the towel into the soapy water and treating him. But bandaged and deemed well, Iwaizumi is ushered to your shower and you shove a pile of clean towels and the largest loungewear you have into his hands, fully intent on locking him in the bathroom as you get a grip on yourself. But he has different plans in mind and you’re speechless as he firmly grasps your wrist before you can retreat with your tail between your legs.

“Stay with me. Please.”

How could you possibly deny those honest eyes?

Swipes of a soapbar against skin become intimate caresses and before you fully register what’s happening, you’re being pressed against the wall as Iwaizumi plunders your mouth, rough hands roaming all over your body as he fully explores everything you have to offer. You whimper as the hot water is suddenly turned off, the cold air crashing against you, but you let out a content sigh as a hot body wraps you in its embrace, carrying you to the sanctuary of your plush bedding. And all you know before you blissfully pass out is the sound of your wanton moans as you break apart over and over again, on Iwaizumi’s tongue, fingers, and cock, tears and drool cascading down your face as you alternate between begging for more and crying for him to let you rest before you ultimately pass out from the deliriously overwhelming ecstasy.

The sun is barely creeping in, a few slim tendrils slipping past the cracks of your window blinds when his eyes flutter open and something warm spreads in his chest as he slowly turns to observe your still soundly sleeping figure, a small upward quirk of his lips betraying how right it feels to wake up beside your vulnerable state. And although he can’t deny the allure of your body creeping through the night, he thinks that you’re the most beautiful like this, unmasked and body unconsciously seeking his presence and warmth as you curl into his space, your face nuzzling into his chest, head perfectly settled under his chin, the soft glow of sunlight enhancing your natural beauty.

But he grimaces as his alarm continues to blaringly ring in the background, frowning as he reluctantly separates himself from you and carefully untangles himself from your bed sheets, quietly traipsing out of your room and dialing a number on his phone when he’s out of your earshot.

Guilt and dread claw at him as the ringtone goes on and on and his throat is dry when he hears the authoritative voice through the speakers.

“Iwaizumi? Are you okay?!”

Iwaizumi wishes he had a glass of water as he chokes out a polite greeting and he can feel hot tears prick at his eyes as he ceaselessly apologizes. Apologizing for abandoning his men. Apologizing for a failed mission. Apologizing for being such a failure as an officer, as a leader.

But he quickly shuts up at the sharp tone that pierces his ear as Sawamura barks his name and he waits and waits, holding his breath, preparing to give up his badge, only to splutter in surprise at the warm relieved chuckle echoing across the speaker.

“I’m glad you’re at least well enough to give me a headache with your wallowing. Good men died and we’re going to feel their loss for a long time. I won’t deny that. But no one blames you, Iwaizumi. You’re a good man, a great officer, and an even better leader. Rest up, grieve, mourn. Do whatever you need to do for the next few days. And when you’re ready, I expect to see you in my office so we can strategize about how we’re going to honor our fallen teammates by giving these criminals hell.”

He barely has time to stammer a “yes, sir” before the line clicks shut and the tears finally roll down his face as he clutches his phone in his hands, bittersweet gratefulness and sorrow blending together. And as his cries come to an end, a determined glint flickers in his eyes as he wipes the last of the salty trails away, the resolve of a man seeking vengeance forming inside of him.

But that could wait until he was back in the swirl and chaos of the precinct. For now, he has other loose ends to tie and he quietly walks back to your room, smiling at the sight of your still slumbering figure nestled in your blankets as he makes his way towards you, intent on slipping back underneath the covers besides you. But he lets out a muffled pained curse as his foot knocks over a box besides your bed, the crash of objects dispersing across the wood floor rattling you awake, and you blearily blink your eyes open only to stare in shock and horror as Iwaizumi curiously holds up a set of black bondage restraints and a jeweled butt plug from among the scattered items, before sending an amused look and a quirked brow your way.

If you were drowsy before, you’re wide awake now as you lunge out of bed, throwing yourself at Iwaizumi as you frantically try to regain possession of some of your most intimate belongings, pouting when he holds the items out of reach, a mischievous grin on his face as he looks down at you.

“Are you familiar with the stoplight system?”

You pause your futile jumping as you try and bat your toys out of his hands, balking at the underlying meaning in his question, waiting for him to just laugh it off and move on. But when all he does is bring a warm hand to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone as he patiently gazes at you, letting you make the final decision, you melt and lean into his touch, shyly nodding your head as you blissfully sigh at the way it feels so right for him to be touching you.

“Words, princess. I’m not going to be gentle. Not after all the teasing and headaches you’ve caused me. So I need to be sure you’re ok with this, that it’s what you want.”

Brief descriptions of red, yellow, and green are barely out of your mouth before you’re suddenly being forcefully shoved onto the bed, body instinctively flailing in self-defense as you try to register what’s happening while binds are roughly being wrapped around your wrists and ankles. But you mewl in arousal as Iwaizumi’s weight settles on top of you, his hard chest pressing you against the bed as he dexterously ties you up until you’re in a spread-eagled position underneath him, unable to move even an inch. And your breath hitches at the hungry look he pins you down with as he sits back and enjoys the view of your trussed up body on complete display for him.

But you grow impatient as the minutes drag by and Iwaizumi gives you an unimpressed look as you begin to fight against your restraints, whining for him to get on with it already. And he shuts you up with a punishing pinch to your inner thigh that has you yelping before getting up from the bed and perusing your box of toys.

You crane your neck in every way as you try to get a sneak peek of what he has in store for you, but Iwaizumi puts that idea to a screeching halt as he slips a blindfold around your head and all you know is darkness and anticipation. Despite the way you try to intently listen for any warning, you squeal in surprise when a hot wet mouth latches onto one of your nipples, fingers tweaking the other and your entire world narrows down to your two perky buds, the lewd wet sounds of sucking filling your ears. Mouth and hands alternate and you can’t keep up with the fluctuating patterns, your breath coming out in pants, your pussy beginning to glisten with arousal, and you sigh in relief when the assault stops, glad to have a moment of reprieve, only to wail when the intense pressure of nipple clamps sears through you, the cold weight of the chain connecting the two clamps piercing your senses as it settles onto your skin.

Pain and pleasure echo through your mind so loudly that you don’t sense Iwaizumi moving until fingers suddenly slip inside your dripping pussy and your back arches, the nipple clamp chain jingling with the movement and a rush of humiliation courses through you when Iwaizumi chuckles, commenting on how wet you are already.

“I was going to prep you a bit more, but looks like this cock hungry hole is more than ready.”

You’re practically salivating as something hard nudges against your entrance, already delirious just from the prospect of being filled with Iwaizumi’s cock once again, but enthusiasm turns to confusion which turns to pleasured shock as your rabbit vibrator is shoved inside of you and immediately set to its highest setting, your clit and walls stimulated so sharply, so suddenly.

It’s so good, but it’s not enough, it’s too much, it’s not what you want.

“Haji-Hajime, please. Want to cum on your cock. Don’t want a toy! Too much. At least turn it down. Haji-AHHHH!”

You scream as you’re forced to an orgasm, body convulsing, jaw going slack, and you wait for the toy to be removed, wait for the settings to be lowered, only for dread and disbelief to fill you as a sticky thick substance is being inserted into your puckered hole, a lubed finger slowly entering you, taking its time to explore and spread your tight hole as the vibrator continues to ravage your pussy and clit at full intensity. And drool begins to seep from the corners of your mouth as you tumble headfirst into overstimulation as a plug replaces the fingers inside of your ass, nestling inside of you as you come to terms with the overwhelming feeling of being double stuffed.

“Ha-Hajime please please please. Too much. I can’t-”

The plug inside of you is teasingly pulled just enough for you to feel the stretch of your hole, only to be shoved inside you once again and words are too hard to think of as the vibrator is thrust in and out of you, the slick sounds of your gushing cunt embarrassingly loud even above your whimpers.

“Maybe I should make you cum for every robbery you ever committed. Maybe then you’ll actually behave and be a law-abiding citizen. Would you like that? Being too fucked out to even think about breaking the law?”

“No! Please! I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I swear. Just please let me rest.”

“Sorry, princess. Bad girls need to be punished.”

A strangled sob escapes you as the vibrator is pushed even deeper inside of you, the smaller tip grinding even further into your clit and your cries are swallowed as Iwaizumi settles besides you, affectionately capturing your lips with his as he watches you break apart once again, smirking as your body and face try to draw closer to him, seeking comfort and relief as overwhelming pleasure drowns you.

But he doesn’t stop. Not even when your begging and pleading turns into incoherent babbles and wanton noises. Not even when you’re too tired to even move, your body only twitching here and there from overstimulation, completely slack and mindless as pleasure melts your brain into mush.

Only when the vibrator finally runs out of batteries hours later, the mechanical whirring coming to an end, does he finally relieve you of the object and you dazedly stare at him as he removes your tear-stained blindfold, slumping in relief that it’s finally over, wanting nothing more than to curl up in Iwaizumi’s arms and sleep for a long, long time.

But he has other plans for the two of you and even in your exhausted state, your eyes fling wide open and you weakly whimper as he positions himself in between your legs, guiding his cock to your spent hole and easily slipping inside before caging you with his arms.

Your eyes roll back at the sudden intrusion and despite how wrecked you are, how used you feel, arousal once again begins to coil up inside of you as your walls accommodate the new object.

All you can think about is the cock inside of you. All you can think about is the way it fills and stretches you. All you can think about is the way it drags against your sensitive walls as Iwaizumi begins to piston his hips in a brutal steady rhythm.

The room is a cacophony of Iwaizumi’s grunts, your broken moans, the sound of skin slapping against skin and you can feel yourself losing to the pleasure as the now all too familiar knot in your stomach tightens once again, your body tensing and pulling taut against your restraints as something builds up inside of you.

Iwaizumi isn’t doing much better, so pent up from watching you beautifully fall apart over and over again in front of him, so close to the real thing as he hovers above you, memorizing the blissed out look on your face, mentally recording every gorgeous sound that slips past your lips, and this time it’s all because of him.

He increases his pace, groaning as your walls tighten around him as if they don’t ever want him to leave them empty, something feral inside of him howling as your mouth opens in a silent scream as you crash one last time, your body shaking and trembling, your cunt spasming around him as he spills long thick stripes inside of you.

When there’s nothing left to give, every last drop of his essence deep within you, your body boneless and limp beneath him, he gently lays on top of you, burying his face in the space besides yours, murmuring praises and words of affirmation as he blankets your body with his.

And when you finally come back to him, eyes looking a little more clear, voice regaining your sassy tone as you demand that he undo your restraints, he’s more than happy to oblige, carefully releasing you, rubbing every sore limb, letting you use him as your personal body pillow as you throw your arms and legs around him and bury your face into his chest, almost instantly falling into a deep exhausted slumber in the safety of his presence.

There will be proper, much needed conversations and discussions when the two of you are both awake, sitting across each other with steaming mugs of coffee placed in front of you, hesitantly yet hopefully probing for answers. What are the two of you? What does the future hold for both of you?

But for now, Iwaizumi lets his eyes shut, lets himself be lulled by the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as he holds you close to him, protectively curling around you as sleep embraces him.

#haikyuu smut #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #Iwaizumi #Iwaizumi Hajime #haikyuu x reader

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creativeashproductions · 4 years

Text

Lost Time // Luke Patterson

Summary: Things changed since Sunset Curve fell apart literally as three out of four members died before a gig. Leaving a sad girl behind Luke by chance runs into the reader with someone else. Death tore the couple apart, and time can’t fix this.

Warning: Talk of death, depression, angst and fluff

Words: 2.2k

Might as well join the Julie and the Phantoms fan club!

*For the sake of the story the time frame has been altered, it takes place in the mid-2000s. Also! I tried to make the reader as generalized as I could to make sure that everyone can relate. The reader is Alex’s sister, for inclusion that can be biological, adopted, half or stepsiblings. I want to make sure all people can be the reader.

Masterlist

THIS IS FROM MY SECONDARY BLOG! REPOST!!

The 1990s was definitely some of the best years of your life watching your brother grow more comfortable in his identity. Alex had kept his sexuality secret, taking the frustration of the secret by learning how to play the drums. You would often be found curled on the chair listening to his growing talent; Alex was a great brother.

Alex found friends in three local boys Reggie, Bobby and Luke, even a little more than friends with Luke briefly. By 1991 the boys had formed a band Sunset Curve with each other and a loyal fan in you. By mid-1994 the band had a fanbase and some gigs, but playing The Orpheum was the goal.

Luke had admitted to Alex, he had feelings for you, and with a lot of encouragement from Alex, he approached you. Luke had been focused on music since his parents gave him his first guitar, so relationships weren’t even on the backburner.

“Hey.” Luke spoke, pressing a kiss to your cheek backstage, “Missed you.”

His hair tickled your skin, bringing a bright smile from the teenage boy and a deep blush from you, private time wasn’t as often as it once had been. After Luke’s fallout with his parents a few months back, he had couch surfed between Reggie and Alex’s rooms; he wasn’t allowed in yours.

“You saw me last night.”

“A monumental time.” Luke bent his bend to place a lingering kiss on your bare shoulder, his jacket having fallen down, “Three years together and a bright future ahead.”

Last night had been the third anniversary of your relationship and hopefully the previous night worrying on parents walking in, cheap dates Luke often felt guilty about. Luke knew in his bones playing The Orpheum tonight would open the door to a legendary future. A future where money wasn’t tight and he could you on dates he deemed acceptable for the love of his life.

Bobby voiced brought Sunset Curve’s lead singer back to that moment, you dropped from the stage to settle in the empty audience to watch the soundcheck. With a wink from Alex, he started making the beat to Now or Never, you beamed as they poured their souls into the song. The four were talented and made to be in a band together even if you didn’t really like Bobby.

Cringing at the awkward wink Bobby sent you turned on your converse to head to the bar for a glass of water. Thanking the bartender, you tuned out the conversation with the waitress and the band only jumping when arms wrapped around your waist.

“We’re getting street dogs.” Luke spoke, bringing your body to rest on his chest, “Do you want one?”

The thought of those street dogs honestly horrifying given they were cooked in some random guys car. The one time you tried, it had permanently tattooed the taste in your memories forever, and just remembering was vomit-inducing.

“I’ll pass.” You wrinkled your nose, turning to wrap your arms around his neck, “I don’t know how you guys like those.”

“Tradition.” Luke shrugged caressing your cheekbone with the pad of this thumb. Gazing at features he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life, “Still down with the plan?”

“The minute I’m eighteen, we go to the nearest chapel.” You grinned playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I’ll be waiting Rockstar.”

Luke pressed a long passionate kiss on your lips, pulling away to jog over to Alex and Reggie waiting at the door. Bobby having declined the street dog invitation to flirt with the waitress Rose. Alex waved before the door closed. Little did you know that would be the last time you saw them alive.

1995 was the worst year of your life. 1996 was the hardest, especially with the forever reminder of your love. You wouldn’t trade 1996 for the world however, only wishing for one change.

Los Angeles, 2004

Alex, Reggie and Luke had learnt a mere few days away from that life had drastically changed forever. Firstly, the three boys had died from eating the street dogs mere hours before performing on the stage of The Orpheum. Secondly, it was no longer 1995 but instead nearly ten years had past bringing the three ghosts into 2004.

The most jarring wasn’t being able to be heard playing music with a random girl named Julie but that the most constant part of the band no longer was there. You hadn’t died that night, and Alex was pretty sure you were still alive. Luke felt lost waking up without you beside him and the deep regret of not reconciling with his parents.

It would be a week before Luke would swallow his pride enough to orb himself into his unchanged childhood home. Emily, Luke’s mom, was in the well-worn chair knitting a scarf Luke recognized as his favourite colours. Mitch was in the kitchen, putting the groceries away. It was heartbreaking being invisible to his aged parents.

“Hey, Mom.” Luke sniffled sitting on the couch nearby staring at his silent mother, “Sorry for not visiting sooner.”

Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes feeling hopeless, not being able to ease his parents’ pain, the regret and guilt bubbling to the surface.

“How is Y/N? I bet she’s living in New York of London now. We promised to travel the world together. Part of me is guilty of wishing she had eaten a street dog that night so we could be together.” Luke sobbed, wrapping his arms around his midsection reminiscing on the beautiful girl he had unwillingly left.

“Hey.” Mitch spoke, kissing his wife’s forehead. Her eyes closing in contentment.

“I wonder if you know where Reg and Alex’s parents are. Reggie’s neighbourhood was torn down who knows when. It makes me scared to see if Alex and Y/N’s parents still have their place. I don’t think so. They lost their son.”

“Hey Luke.”

Luke glanced over his shoulder to see Alex at the door, reluctant to impose of Luke’s privacy.

“Yeah.”

“We’re rehearsing.” Alex spoke, smiling as the other teenager took one more wistful look at his parents before orbing out of his house to the Molina family’s garage. Minutes later, the front door opening and feet thudding brought the noise to the Patterson home.

“Grandma!”

A four-foot blue of green and black blur covered the room in seconds nearly sprawling Mitch to the floor. Why was that 1996 year difficult? Well, ’95 was when Sunset Curve tragically died, and a stick changed your life. ’96 was spent going through the last five months of pregnancy without Luke.

October 1995

You kept your lips pressed tightly together, unable to look at the smooth, shiny mahogany rectangle surrounded by flowers. Looking up meant the reality kicking in. Funerals sucked. Especially the third funeral in the last handful of days. It was surreal thinking that one week ago you had kissed your boyfriend and hugged your brother and now they were dead. Gone. Not even a goodbye.

“Are you okay?” The broke voice asked, gaining your attention. Swollen red eyes matching yours held unimaginable pain. While the last few months had been icy with your parents, it didn’t mean losing one of their kids didn’t sting.

“I will be.” You whispered clasping your hands over the scratchy black velvet dress, one you had worn three times too many.

The sobs broke out seeing the best picture Alex had taken in his life, it encapsulated his best features; his beaming smile and kind, caring eyes. Alex was gone. Your brother was gone because he ate a bad hot dog with his friends. You would never see your boys again. Never feel Luke’s skin or share a laugh with Alex or complain about things with Reggie. You wouldn’t get to meet in the chapel with Luke wearing second hand ‘fancy’ clothing. In one night, your life changed.

It changed further seeing the two lines on the test later that night. The heartache growing. The baby you carried would never meet his uncles and his Dad. Would never hear them play or learn to play. ’95 and ’96 sucked ass.

You sighed, closing the door to follow the rambunctious ball of energy into the living room where he entertained Mitch and Emily. Some days it was difficult to stare into the green eyes he inherited from his father.

“Benjamin Lucas.” You spoke crossing your arms, meeting the gaze of the eight-year-old boy, “What did I say?”

“To not runoff.” Ben quietly replied, playing with his hands. His messy brown hair, in need of a trim, falling into his eyes, “Sorry Mom.”

“Please don’t do it again.” You gently told the little boy elated as he quickly found the toy box in the corner of the room.

Ben was loved deeply by Mitch and Emily, who had stepped up when your parents made the decision to sell your childhood home. Wanting Ben to know his paternal grandparents, you had struggled to find an apartment and job to say in the neighbourhood. Since the baby was the last part of their son, the Patterson parents’ had welcomed you into the home where you stayed until Ben was two.

“Do you want us to come around for Luke’s birthday?” You questioned sitting on the love seat, the same love seat you had made out on with Luke many times during movies.

The room turned sad at the question and reminded that for the ninth year, you would celebrate Luke’s birthday without him. A day where Ben wouldn’t fully understand. Emily simply nodded her head.

“Have you met anyone?” Mitch asked, leaning over to clasp his hands together. For the last few years, they had been pushing you to date. They wanted your happiness and for Ben to have a father even if Luke couldn’t be it.

“Mama can we stay here tonight?” Ben’s innocent voice cut the tension, saving you from answering the question again. Mitch and Emily each nodded their heads at the question, unable to tell the young boy no.

“Have you ate?” Emily asked, turning to look at you in concern. The chuckle left your mouth at the question she frequently requested, she missed cooking for more than two.

“We had pasta before we came.” You replied, turning to gaze out the window to the dark sky, “I should put Ben to bed.”

The soft whine from your son and denial was a nightly routine and very much a mirror image to Luke’s character as well. With a smile, Emily held out her hand to her grandchild, she was notoriously the only one able to get Ben to sleep fast.

“Come on Bug.”

It seemed the universe was keeping Luke from seeing you and discovering Ben, but when that night came, he was shocked. Emily was curled up on the patio couch, watching Ben in the newly bought sandbox. The patio doors opened. Inside, Mitch had invited a stranger who knew his son into the house.

“I think I heard the doorbell. I’ll be right back.” Emily called out to you. You had found shade under the tree reading a new book.

The soft cry had you up and running to Ben before you even realized, on his knee was a bleeding wound. You had already scooped the boy into your arms to quickly get into the kitchen. The moment your foot stepped into the home, the sound of a familiar voice and song filled the house.

Gently placing Ben on his feet, you followed the sound to the living room. Across the room behind a young girl stood a boy.

“Luke.” You breathed floored at the sight of the teenager who looked exactly like he did back in ’95. The ghost singing widened his eyes at yours, taking in the mature features and change of fashion.

He continued to sing the song Unsaid Emily he had written as an apology to his mom following the last big fight. The song he never got to show her. His voice faded as the ending of the song came around.

“Mama!” Your attention broke from Luke’s when a tiny hand reached for yours. The pain in his voice bringing you back to the most important part of your life, “It hurts Mama.”

Despite being sad, Mitch was the one to cross the room to lift the little boy into his arms. Placing the little boy on the counter, the man gently wet a paper towel to wash the area.

“I think he needs stitches.” Mitch sighed, furrowing his brows.

“Who is that?” Luke asked the Molina girl. The girl shrugged taking in the features she could recognize. Julie asked Emily.

“That’s Ben.” Emily beamed, looking over her shoulder at the little boy that filled the void of Luke’s death. It didn’t fix the wound or erase the pain, but Ben’s existence helped with the loss as he was a precious gift, “When Luke passed away his girlfriend Y/N found out she was pregnant with Luke’s baby.”

The choked sob fell from Luke’s mouth echoed by the thud of his knees, hitting the floor in the pure shock. The heartbreak painted so clear Julie was sure she could feel Luke’s agony.

God, why did Luke have to eat that fucking street dog. Fuck his band dreams. Nothing hurt as bad as finding out about Ben and Y/N having to be a single parent.

“I have a son?” Luke cried, orbing himself as far as he could from the Patterson home and his most tremendous loss.

Part Two

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kurokoros · 4 years

Text

avarice | kuroo

Rated: M

Words: 6.7K

Pairing: kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: The lingerie you’re wearing is all delicate lace and shiny bows, just begging for him to unwrap you like a present. And he supposes that’s exactly what you are: a little toy for him to play with.

AN: A very happy birthday to Kuroo. As for everyone else... I’m sorry lol Also sorry for any mistakes/typos! I wrote like 4K of this fic today, and I just don’t want to edit tonight.

Warnings: smut, cock worship (?) oral (giving) blowjobs, face-fucking, deepthroating, swallowing, lingerie/formalwear, pet play (use of “pet”, cat ears, and... a tail), anal play, double penetration, teasing (kuroo’s kind of a bastard in this ngl), dirty talk (praise/degradation), biting, light bondage, mild choking, hair-pulling, spanking, rough sex, orgasm control, minor overstimulation, creampie

There’s just something about seeing you in lingerie that Kuroo loves.

And the set you’re wearing now might just be his new favorite. It’s a recent addition to your collection, bought especially for tonight, and he can’t help but stare, eyes roaming over you slowly. Cherry red silk is a vibrant pop of color against your skin, contrasted beautifully with black lace that looks soft to the touch. Sheer, black stockings cling to your thighs. But it’s the garter belt that makes him pause, makes his fingers itch to tug on the strap and let it snap back against your skin just to hear one of those slutty little squeaks comes tumbling out of your pretty mouth. Soft, fluffy cat ears are perched on the top of your head as an added bonus, a treat that took just a little coaxing. Something about them made you surprisingly shy, but that only made him want to ruin you more.

And now look at you? The lingerie you’re wearing is all delicate lace and shiny bows, just begging for him to unwrap you like a present. And he supposes that’s exactly what you are: a little toy for him to play with.

Oh, but he’s going to make you feel good, too. He always does.

Kuroo leans back in his chair, watching as you fidget under his heated stare, wet and needy. Your thighs rub together as you kneel on the floor, trying to ignore the cold, hard bite of the floor beneath you. Already, you’re practically squirming for him, and he hasn’t even touched you yet, content to draw things out until you’re practically begging. It’s raw anticipation that has you trembling, your stomach in knots and your breathing uneven.

It’s unfair, how relaxed he is in comparison. Perfectly at ease while you’ve been reduced to a mess. The only thing keeping you still is the promise of your patience being rewarded.

Aware of your eyes on him, Kuroo shifts in his own seat, spreading his legs wider just to tease you. And you fall for it, unable to stop your gaze from dropping to his muscled thighs and the outline of his cock straining against his slacks. Amusement flickers in his eyes when you force yours back to his face, but he doesn’t reprimand you.

“Come here, kitten,” he says, beckoning you forward with one hand. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth when you do as you’re told, and you shiver under the look he sends you. Gold eyes latch onto the gentle sway of your hips as you crawl across the short distance to him, greedy and possessive in the way they trace your curves, drinking in every inch of your bare skin.

As soon as you’re within reach, he grasps your chin between his fingers and thumb, tilting your head to meet his eyes. You lean into his touch as he brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, sighing. But Kuroo doesn’t linger there. He loosens his grip on your jaw. The tips of his fingers brush against you sweetly before he shifts his touch, tracing the curve of your neck.

One of his fingers slips beneath the choker wrapped around your throat, tugging you forward. The bell around your neck jingles, and your breath hitches, but you let him pull you closer. Kuroo leads you towards him until your hands are braced on his spread thighs, dangerously close to his cock.

He pulls harder on the choker, incessant. The soft velvet digs into your neck, and you gasp. The bell jingles again as Kuroo flicks it lazily, sending the tiny ball pattering against your sensitive skin. You shudder as the cold steel teases your throat, contrasting with the heat of his hand. For a second, he toys with the bell, rolling his thumb over it as he stares down at you, gaze predatory.

Letting go of the collar, Kuroo rubs his thumb against your cheek affectionately, that avarice glint in his eyes never disappearing.

“What a good girl,” he says as you melt into his touch. Your eyes flutter shut briefly, relishing in the gentle touch, but knowing it won’t last. Forcing your gaze back to his, you’re unsurprised to be met with his own mischievous one. He taps his fingers against the underside of your jaw. One at a time. A slow, steady rhythm. He stares at you a little longer, head cocked to one side as if contemplating something. “No,” he muses, “My good little pet.”

The last word is sneered mockingly, and you squeeze your thighs together in a pitiful attempt to soothe the needy ache between your legs. Those pretty, lacy panties he bought you are beyond ruined already. Drenched in your arousal. Slick drips down your inner thighs, soaking into the tops of your stockings.

Kuroo grabs you by the jaw again. His fingers dig into you harshly, making you wince. “Are you gonna behave for me, kitten?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe back to him, response automatic. His firm tone and harsh grip demand your attention. And you know you should focus on what he’s saying, but you can’t stop your gaze from dropping to his cock. Just for a second. Foolishly thinking he won’t notice—he always does. It takes a moment too long for you to catch yourself, but it’s too late. Both of you know you’ve made a mistake.

The fingers gripping your chin force your head back up. Amusement flashes in his eyes as soon as your gaze snaps back up to meet his, more malicious than playful. “You that desperate to choke on my cock that you’re ignoring me?” There’s a warning laced in that question. Either way you answer, you’ll be in trouble. But that’s exactly what he wants. It’s all part of the game. “Greedy little slut. Go ahead then, if you want it that bad.” He pats his thigh, directing your gaze back down to his crotch.

To someone else it might seem like an invitation, but you know better. It’s a command.

Still on your knees, you shuffle forward until the chair he’s sitting on is pressed up against your abdomen. The hard wood digs into you, cold and uncomfortable, but Kuroo is warm beneath your hands. Your fingers tremble as they slide over his inner thighs. The feeling of your palms rubbing over the firm muscle beneath his dark pants makes him hum, and you bite your lip at the quiet noise.

His belt jingles as it comes undone, metal and leather falling apart until the deft work of your fingers. Kuroo huffs a laugh as you tug a little too eagerly on his zipper, yanking it down roughly, but he doesn’t stop you from pulling his cock from the confines of his slacks.

A low groan rumbles in his chest as your cool fingers wrap around the base of his cock. Kuroo spreads his legs wider, giving you more room to work as you stroke him slowly, tracing your finger along the prominent vein running along his dick. Your grip tightens the way he likes it, and your thumb circles the flushed tip, smearing the pre-cum already leaking from the slit.

He watches through half-lidded eyes as your hand slides back down his shaft and you start to lean in, breath fanning over his cock. Kuroo lifts his hand from where it was resting lazily on his thigh, reaching for you instead. He’s careful not to dislodge the fluffy ears from the top of your head as he strokes your hair away from your face.

The slightest amount of pressure is applied to the back of your head, pulling you in closer. The suggestion of a choice when there isn’t one.

Willingly, you allow him to drag you down to his lap. You take the head of his cock into your mouth without hesitation, humming as the heavy weight of it settles against your tongue. The wet muscle swirls around him slowly, tasting him, and Kuroo makes an approving sound in the back of his throat. Briefly, he leans his head back and closes his eyes as you bob your head just a little, sucking on the head. As he pets your hair encouragingly, you lean in, taking him further into your wet mouth, like he’s wordlessly telling you to do. Deft fingers weave through your hair as you swallow around him.

Taking half of his length into your mouth, you tease your tongue against the underside of his cock before pulling away again. You’re rewarded with a low groan from the man above you. He tugs at your hair as you pick up a slow, steady rhythm, taking your time as you suck him off. Teasing him, though you know it’ll only get you in trouble.

The thought has your thighs rubbing together as subtly as you can manage, a surge of heat rushing to your neglected pussy. It isn’t subtle enough. Or maybe he’s just to clever to miss it. Either way, Kuroo’s catlike eyes easily notice the way you’re squirming.

A needy whimper vibrates around his cock, and Kuroo scoffs condescendingly.

He rubs the pad of his thumb against the corner of your mouth. You glance up at him through your eyelashes, swallowing around him again, and he can feel the tremble of your tongue against the underside of his cock. “You like sucking me off that much?” he asks, cupping your jaw in his hand. Kuroo can’t help but think how pretty you look like this, on your knees for him with your lips wrapped around his thick cock. Only half of his dick is in shoved into your mouth and you’re already struggling to take him. He can’t wait to watch you choke on him. “I bet you’re so wet already, kitten. Just from having my dick stuffed down your throat. Such a little slut for a nice, fat cock.”

You squeeze your legs together tighter, feeling hot under his gaze. The belittling words hit you in your chest, and you moan around him. It only makes him more smug. Suddenly, you want to wipe that smirk off his face. Consequences be damned.

Before you can stop yourself, you surge forward, catching him off guard as you relax your jaw and take him deeper into your mouth. Nearly choking yourself on his cock. You struggle, gagging around him, but force yourself to stay like that as Kuroo throws his head back with a groan. As his eyes start to flutter shut, you pull back until only the head of his cock is left in your mouth. You glance up at Kuroo again, purposely swirling your tongue around him before you suck.

“Fuck.” His free hand grasps the arm of the chair with a vice grip, knuckles white from the pressure. Kuroo pulls your hair a little harder, making you whine around him. Forcing his eyes open again, he catches sight of the pleased, almost smug, look in your eyes a second before you can hide it from him. His grip shifts in your hair, and you yelp as he yanks you back. His cock slides out of your mouth with a lewd, wet sound. You gasp for breath, wincing at the sting in your scalp.

“Brat,” he hisses between his teeth, gold eyes narrowed dangerously. He lets go of your hair only to grab your jaw. His fingers dig into you, his grip bruising, and you whimper as he forces your mouth open. Like earlier, his thumb rubs against your cheek, but this time there’s nothing sweet about it. “If you’re gonna suck my cock, suck it right.”

The hand on your jaw yanks you forward impatiently, and you try not to gag as he shoves his cock into the back of your throat. Your fingers dig into his thighs. Tears well in your eyes. Your lips are wrapped around him obscenely, your nose just barely brushing against his abdomen. An ache forms in your jaw, the stretch catching you off guard.

He groans as your throat constricts around him, and you whimper as he holds you there. Kuroo slips his fingers into your hair, letting you slide partway off his cock as you gasp and sputter, only to drag you forward again, forcing you to choke on him. The rough treatment only makes you wetter.

“Come on, kitten, none of that.” His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away a tear as it slips down your cheek. You’re making a mess of his lap, saliva dribbling around his cock and staining the front of his pants. “What’s wrong?” Kuroo’s tone is mocking as starts to buck his hips, fucking your mouth. “I thought you wanted to choke on my cock?”

You grasp desperately at his thighs for something to hold onto as Kuroo grabs a fistful of your hair and starts to drag your mouth up and down on his cock. The pace he sets is fast and harsh. On your head, the car ears shift, but don’t slip, somehow staying in place despite his roughness. Filthy, wet noises punctuate each thrust, and Kuroo seems to feed off the sounds you make around his dick, moans muffled as you choke. The bell around your neck jingles with each thrust.

He’s using you just like a little toy. His pretty pet. Disciplining you for being disobedient earlier.

You think you’re getting off on it more than him, being punished like this. Arousal swirls in your belly, but there’s nothing to soothe the ache between your legs. You’re empty and needy, and Kuroo’s going to keep you like that until you’re begging and crying for him to touch you.

Through teary eyes, you peek up at him, finding Kuroo already staring down at you. Something in your expression sets him off. Your eyes hazy and wet, pupils blown wide with arousal. Spit leaking around his cock from your stretched mouth and swollen lips. “Shit.” He groans when you swallow around him, your throat starting to relax as he fucks your mouth. His thighs tense under your hands, muscles taut. Kuroo grits his teeth, grunting. His pace stutters, his cock twitching against your tongue. You swallow again, sucking, and his grip on your hair tightens until it hurts.

Kuroo yanks you down on him, stuffing his cock down your throat and cumming in your mouth with a low, satisfied moan. You have no choice but to swallow it down, sputtering and choking as he fills your mouth.

The hand grasping your hair drags you back slowly, Kuroo hissing at the sensitivity as you give his cock one last suck before it bobs free. You gasp as soon as his dick leaves your mouth, taking in a greedy gulp of air. Much gentler than before, Kuroo strokes the back of your head, petting you as you catch your breath. He tugs his fingers free of your hair, cupping your jaw instead, and you lean into his warm hand as he rubs your cheek.

His free hand pats his thigh, a gesture that you recognize. The grip you have on his legs is the only thing holding you steady as you rise on shaking legs and crawl onto his lap, straddling him. Kuroo wraps his arm around your lower back, pulling you flush against his chest. You curl into him, soaking in his affection. Saliva and cum smear against your skin as his cock rubs against your inner thigh, still hard and hot beneath you. Kuroo hisses at the sensitivity, gritting his teeth.

Some of his cum slips from the corner of your mouth, dribbling towards your chin. Kuroo catches the milky fluid on his thumb before it can drip and make a mess. He presses the digit to your lips. Knowing what he wants, you part your lips for him, greedily taking his finger into your warm, wet mouth and sucking slowly.

“That’s it,” he coos at you as your tongue swirls around the tip of his finger. “You did so good for me, kitten. Such a good girl.” You give his finger one more suck before he pulls the digit from your mouth with a wet pop and goes back to cradling your cheek in his palm. “I bet you think you deserve a reward for that, don’t you?”

He tilts your head to the side, exposing more of your delicate neck and the collar around your throat. It looks even better up close. His shifts his hand from your jaw to the side of your neck, long fingers curling around your throat. The threat of him squeezing makes your breath hitch, but he only slips a finger beneath the velvet lining and rubs. The bell makes another soft sound.

Kuroo’s mouth finds the soft skin of your neck as you raise your trembling hands to the front of his jacket, grounding yourself against him. He kisses just under your jaw, nipping at you. It doesn’t hurt, but his teeth surprise you, and you mewl as his sucks and nibbles at that spot. Once he’s satisfied with the mark he’s made, Kuroo leans back. Cold air is blown over your wet skin, and you flinch, making him chuckle before he moves lower.

It doesn’t take long for him to find your sweet spot. Whimpering, you tilt your head further to the side, giving him more room. An appreciative hum vibrates against you, and you whisper a breathy, “Please.”

A pause. “Please what?” he asks, grabbing your hips to still you as you try to grind down against him. You huff, squirming, and he smacks the outside of your thigh as a warning. “Come on, kitten, use your words.”

“Please, sir,” you repeat, correcting yourself with a whimper. “I need you.” It’s a weak attempt to get him to touch you, but you’re too distracted by his mouth on your neck to form another sentence. Too horny to think about anything else but his cock stretching you out as he fucks you from behind.

Humming to himself, Kuroo rolls his hips against your leg, rubbing his cock against your inner thigh. “I think you can do better than that,” he says after a moment. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

Frustrated and painfully aroused, you can’t help but snap at him. “You know what I want.”

This time he bites you. Hard. His teeth dig into the side of your neck until you wince, flinching away from the sting. But Kuroo forces you to take it until the pain makes you moan. His hands squeeze your hips, holding them in place so you can’t squirm away. The lick of pain turns to pleasure, and he only lets you go when your back arches and your breathing gets heavy.

“You gonna keep acting like a fucking brat?” The evenness of his tone is betrayed by a firm edge that makes your cunt clench around nothing.

You shake your head, frustrated tears burning in your eyes. Any other time he would make you answer him verbally, but the sight of your watery eyes makes him soften.

He coos at you, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your hips as he kisses your temple. “I know, kitten,” he murmurs. “You want me to fuck you nice and hard, don’t you? Stuff you full of my cock and cum until you can’t take any more. That’s what you want. And I’ll give you all of it. But I wanna hear you beg first.”

As he speaks, he rubs his hands over your thighs, flirting with the hem of your stockings before slipping a finger beneath the strap of your garter belt. You cry out when he lets it snap against your skin, finally giving him one of those slutty little squeaks he’s been waiting for all night. He thinks about doing it again. Maybe you’ll cry out his name this time if he does. Beg like he wants you to. But there’s something else his fingers are itching to do.

You jerk when his hands slide around to grope your ass, spreading you apart from behind. Your cheeks burn with heat, embarrassed, and it doesn’t take long for him to figure out why.

Soft fur brushes against his fingers, and he smirks as it tickles the back of his hand. How he didn’t notice it before, he isn’t sure. Maybe he was just too distracted by the way your lips wrapped around his cock to notice the fluffy tail dangling behind you.

You gasp as he gives it an experimental tug, jostling the plug buried in your ass. Kuroo chuckles when you bury your face in the crook of his neck, mewling and pressing your breasts up against his chest as you clench your fingers in the front of his suit. With you curling into his chest in embarrassment, he can see over your shoulder, getting a good look at the black tail that’s a perfect match for those cute cat ears he gave you the other day.

Keeping one hand on your ass, he spreads your cheeks wider. His other hand wraps around the base of the tail, stroking it all the way to the tip, marveling at it. Silky fur tickles the backs of your thighs as he lets it drop, and you moan, grinding down against his lap desperately.

He lets you get away with it, for now, enthralled with the new toy that’s making you feel so, so good. “What’s this?” Kuroo asks rhetorically, tugging on the plug a little harder. The amused lilt to the question only mortifies you, but the humiliation is outweighed by excitement. “I knew you were kinky baby, but fuck. Can’t say I was expecting this.” He slaps your ass, watching you clench around the toy. “That feel good?”

“Yes,” you mewl, response muffled against his neck. The plug in your ass is long and blunt. Slightly curved in a way that fits you perfectly. It doesn’t fill you up like his cock, only making you more desperate to have him inside you, too. Kuroo presses his thumb against the base, and you make a needy, intelligible sound, practically dripping all over his lap.

The pad of his thumb rubs against your stinging cheek. “You really are my good little pet, huh?” He bites back a hiss as you unintentionally grind against his cock. “Such a naughty slut. Is my cock not enough for you? Need something stretching out that cute ass of yours, too?”

Half-drunk on his words, you only nod deliriously. You’ll agree to just about anything right now if it’ll get him to do something. You press your lips against his neck, kissing and nibbling at the bare skin within your reach.

“I can’t wait to fuck your pussy with that plug inside you,” he says as you fumble with the buttons on his jacket. You huff, giving up, and he smirks as you rip open his suit. A button snags and pops off, falling to the floor, but he doesn’t stop you from shoving his jacket over his shoulders. You only get more frustrated when the fabric catches, the back of the chair blocking you. Giving up, you turn your attention back to his neck, sucking just above the collar of his shirt. “You’re gonna look so pretty whining around my cock, begging me to fuck you harder.”

There are still too many layers between you. He picked a three-piece suit just to torture you with it. Your hands slide down his chest and tug at the buttons you come across, unsure if it’s his shirt or vest, but simply not caring. All you want is to feel his skin against yours.

“Tetsu,” you mewl as he gives the tail another firm tug, pulling just enough for the thickest part of the plug to stretch you out again. He lets your use of his name slip, for now. After all, you’ve been so good for him so far. His pretty little pet. There’ll be plenty of time to punish you for it later. And he knows exactly how he’s going to do it.

“Please, please. I want you to fuck me,” you babble, only half-aware of the words coming out of your mouth. “I want your cock inside me. Please, Tetsu, I want you so bad. It hurts.”

The needy tone of your voice goes right to his throbbing cock. Kuroo places his hand against your bare back, trailing his fingers over the dip of your spine all the way to the back of your neck. You squeal as he fists his hand in your hair and yanks you away from his neck.

“Bed. Now.” The words are bitten out around a harsh kiss. He smacks the outside of your thigh, and you slide off of his lap onto trembling legs, barely able to hold yourself up. Gold eyes pierce through you as you take a step back. You turn on your heel at the stern look he sends you, stumbling forward with a yelp as Kuroo slaps your ass harder than before. The sting lingers.

He’s on his feet a second later, following you to the bed much slower. Kuroo drops his jacket at the foot of the chair, and his vest is shrugged off before he’s halfway across the room. As you crawl onto the bed, he rips at the buttons of his black dress shirt, revealing his bare chest to your wandering eyes. The sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, his strong forearms tense.

You settle onto your hands and knees, ready to bend over before he can tell you to. He loves seeing you with your ass in the air, your face buried against the blankets in an attempt to muffle your moans and sobs as he fucks your pretty pussy.

You’re trembling with anticipation by the time he reaches you, but Kuroo doesn’t climb onto the bed yet. Instead, he grasps your chin in his palm, tugging you to face him and drawing you in for another passionate kiss that makes you feel dizzy. He catches your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulls away, nipping at you.

“Such a good girl for me,” he mumbles against your lips. Pressing another fleeting kiss to your mouth, Kuroo shifts his grip to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you whimper. He takes a step back, letting you go. In one fluid move, he hooks fingers around the knot at the base of his throat and yanks off his tie. The crimson fabric dangles from his fingers, and he toys with the end of it.

Kuroo crawls onto the bed behind you, the mattress dipping under his weight. He reaches for your hips, rubbing his thumbs against you before moving to your waist. A firm palm against your lower back makes you arch for him. Like before, he lets his palm slide against your spine until his fingers wrap around the back of your neck and force you down on the bed. Your cheek is pressed against the blankets, and you’re able to crane your head just enough to see him looming over you.

Slowly, he twists the tie in his free hand, keeping you pinned down with the other. There’s a dark look in his eyes, predatory, like he’s a cat and you’re the mouse he’s finally caught, trapped beneath him and helpless. You’re right where he wants you to be, ready and waiting for him to toy with you until you’re sobbing his name and begging for him to fuck your cunt.

He rolls his hips against your ass, grinding his cock against your dripping slit through your panties. He bumps against the plug stretching your ass, driving it deeper inside you, and you make the most pathetic little moan as you try to rock back against him.

Letting go of your neck, he grabs your wrist off the mattress beside your head and wrenches it behind your back. You aren’t prepared for the stretch, and you wince as he pins your arm against the small of your back. Before you can figure out what he’s doing, he already has a hold of your other arm.

The fabric of his tie is cool against your wrists as he ties your arms behind your back.

As you tug uselessly at the knot, Kuroo leans back to look at you. A low groan makes you bite your lip. Kuroo spreads you apart from behind, nudging your thighs apart with his knee to get a good look at your slit. “You’re soaked, kitten,” he says, reaching between your legs and rubbing his fingers against your panties. Your hips buck as he presses against your clit, circling your sensitive nerves and giving you just a taste of what you want before he takes it away.

“No!” You gasp as he shuffles back, hot touch leaving your neglected cunt. “Please, Tetsu, don’t stop.”

Despite your begging, his hands fall still against your hips. Idly, he toys with the cute bows holding the sides of your panties together. His fingers feel like they’re branding you every time they brush against your skin, his touch hot enough to make your toes curl. You struggle against the binding around your wrists again, but they don’t budge.

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve used my name tonight.” With a single tug, your panties come apart under his clever fingers. The ruined lingerie drops to the bed between your knees, revealing your soaked cunt to the cool air. You stiffen, but not from the cold. Kuroo moves his hands back to your ass, pulling your cheeks apart and carefully shifting the tail out of the way. This time, he gets a good look at your dripping pussy, slick dripping down your thighs now that your underwear is gone. One finger dips between your legs and runs through your wetness before he taps your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You swallow down a moan as he plays with your puffy bundle of nerves. “I thought you knew better than that,” Kuroo continues after a long pause.

Suddenly, he slaps your clit. You squeal, flinching away from the dizzying mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Maybe I should leave you like this for being such a brat earlier,” he muses, smirking as he hears your breath get caught in your throat. You choke on a whimper, wanting to beg him not to, but unable to find the right words. “Oh, you didn’t think I’d let you get away with that, did you, kitten? No, you need to be punished for being disobedient.” This time, he slaps your inner thigh, rubbing the tender spot for just a second. “What do you say I leave you here, tied up and dripping all over the bed like the horny little slut you are, desperate for a cock to fill you up?” He chuckles as you shake your head. “I like the sound of that.”

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, voice cracking.

He drags his fingers along the curve of your ass. “You’re sorry…?” he repeats, trailing off.

You wet your lips. “I’m sorry, sir. I won’t do it again.”

“That’s better.” He grabs your ass, spreading your cheeks apart as he grinds his cock against your slit. The tip drags over your clit with every roll of his hips, and you can’t help but shiver. “Now, beg me to fuck your pussy.”

Your lips move, but you can’t understand what comes tumbling out of your mouth. Whatever you say is enticing enough for him. Kuroo’s fingers dig into your ass, the head of his cock prodding at your soaked entrance. He shoves his dick inside of you roughly, slipping inside easily you’re so wet for him. You moan into the blankets as he stretches you out, thick cock filling you perfectly.

Kuroo swears as your pussy clenches around him. He holds your hips still, savoring the feeling of your warm, wet walls. The plug in your ass makes you even tighter than usual. The added pressure is fucking fantastic and filthy, and you’re shaking by the second thrust.

The pace he picks up is brutal, hard and fast. Kuroo drives his cock into you over and over, finding your sweet spot with every harsh roll of his hips. Every thrust causes his pelvis to smack against your ass, jostling the plug inside you. The fluffy tail tickles the back of your thigh, the ticklish sensation making you squirm. Your arms ache from being stuck behind you, but it only feeds into the tight knot of arousal in your lower belly.

You bury your face deeper in the blankets, smothering your gasps and moans. The bell on your collar keeps jingling, the tinkling muffled by the steady slap of his hips against your ass. You’ll have bruises by the time he’s done, but you don’t care, high off the pleasure he’s giving you.

Kuroo reaches around your chest to unhook your bra, tugging the scrap of lacy fabric down around your bound wrists to free your breasts. He leans over your back and slips his hand beneath you, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. A keening sound falls from your mouth. You arch your chest into his hand, pressing more of your smooth skin into his palm.

He doesn’t linger there for long, releasing your breast in favor of moving his hand to your throat and squeezing just enough for you to feel him there. He doesn’t try to choke you, but he steals your breath anyway. The light pressure around your neck and the slap of his hips against yours has you lightheaded.

You’re going to cum, you think, your cunt starting to clench around him. That coil in your belly is wound so tight you could cry, but he leaves you teetering on that razor thin edge of pleasure and pain, neglecting your swollen bundle of nerves and refusing to let you orgasm yet.

When you moan his name, Kuroo lets go of your throat. He slaps your ass, making you cry out even louder. Finally, he slips a hand between your spread legs. Your knees buckle when he strokes your clit. Your hips stop surging back to meet his thrusts, and your moans cut off abruptly. The stimulation makes your limbs twitch, your body going taut as your stomach starts to flip.

He pulls his hand away.

Your eyes snap open. “No,” you gasp, trying to roll your hips back against his as his cock stops moving inside you. “No, no, no, please, don’t stop,” you beg, eyes watering as the pleasure fades into a dull ache between your legs. “Please. I—” You cut off with a hiccup. Tears of frustration roll down your cheeks and soak into the mattress. Lips quivering, you can’t smother the sob that bubbles up in your throat.

Kuroo is right there to soothe you. “Shh, I know,” he murmurs, rubbing his hands over your thighs. “I know it hurts. But I needed to punish you somehow, kitten. You were so naughty before.” You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or not. His tone is soft. Almost sweet. But you can’t bring yourself to turn you head and check for a smirk.

He’s pushed you right to your limit and then some, and he knows it. “It’s okay,” he tells you, squeezing your hips as he rolls his hips, thrusting against you slowly. “Now, I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?”

Slow circles rub against your clit when you finally nod, mewling and arching your back for him. Kuroo’s pace picks up with every stroke of his thumb until he’s shoving his cock into your pussy at a brutal speed. He barely gives you a second to take a breath before he drives the air out of your lungs again.

It doesn’t take much for him to have you moaning beneath him. Little whimpers and mewls roll off your tongue as his cock thrusts against your sweet spot. You’re trembling all over again, adrenaline and arousal making you quiver. His breathing is ragged, and his thrusts grow uneven and rough as your pussy gets tighter around his cock, sucking him in deeper as he plays with your clit. He rolls it between his fingers, pinching your swollen nerves until you cry out his name.

His fingers wrap around your tail, and a moan tears from your chest as he pulls the plug partway out of your ass, forcing the widest part to stretch you before he lets go. The plug is shoved back inside of you as his hips slap against you, his cock and the plug slamming back into you at once.

The pad of his thumb presses against your clit just right, and your hips jerk against his as you squeal. At once, all of the tension in your body snaps. The breath is slammed from your lungs, and you tense beneath him, shaking as your orgasm rips through you. You clench around Kuroo’s cock and the plug stuffing your ass, and he moans as your slick walls grip him tightly.

Kuroo fucks you through your orgasm, his thrusts slowing, but not stopping. His finger stays on your clit, rubbing until the pleasure becomes too much and you try to get away. With one last resounding smack, Kuroo shoves his cock deep inside you, filling you with his cum.

Eventually, he pulls out and maneuvers you down onto the bed. You’re too spent to complain about his manhandling, pliant as he shifts you into a comfortable position. By the time you come to, he’s tugging the tie from your wrists and tossing it onto the floor. You wince as he eases the anal plug out of your ass and sets it aside. You squeeze your legs together, sticky fluid dribbling down your inner thighs as his cum starts to seep out of you.

Warm lips press against the back of your shoulder as your breathing begins to steady, your heart still racing in your chest. Boneless and exhausted, you sigh as Kuroo trails kisses all the way to your neck. His nose bumps against your necklace, jostling the little bell, and you giggle as his hair tickles you.

The heat of his breath fans over your face. “Okay?” Kuroo asks, pressing a sweet kiss to the underside of your jaw. You nod, lulled by the warmth of his body pressed against your back. He wraps his fingers around your wrist where his tie dug into you. “Good. You were such a good girl for me, kitten. You did such a good job,” he says, muttering praises against your skin with each gentle kiss. “Want me to clean you up?”

This time you shake your head. You wriggle your wrist from his palm and slip your fingers between his, anchoring yourself to him. “Five minutes?” you beg, too tired and sore to move just yet. It’ll only get worse if you stay like this, but you trust him to take care of you later. “Happy birthday.”

Kuroo laughs as he gives in to the demanding tug of your hand, finally resting move of his weight against you. It isn’t the dorky, belly laugh you’re used to, but it’s more soothing than cold, calloused way he chuckled before, and you relax.

“Thank you.” He kisses your forehead. “Best birthday present I could have gotten.”

A tiny grin pulls at your lips. “Was it the cat ears?” you ask, giggling as he tugs on one of them. How they’ve stayed attached to you this long is a mystery.

One of his arms slips beneath your stomach. He kisses your cheek this time. “They’re pretty cute on you. The tail was a surprise, too. Didn’t think you had it in you to be that naughty.” You can feel his lips quirk into a smile. “Makes me want to punish you again, kitten. Maybe this time I’ll make you cum until you’re begging me to stop.”

He’s only teasing, but the lewd image makes you squeeze your thighs together tighter. “You’re insatiable.”

“Can you blame me? I have such a pretty girl to take care of.”

#kuroo x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq smut #tw: pet play

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

Text

An Artful Revenge pt. 3 (Feysand)

Part of the Damnation Series.

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

~Feyre~

I spend three days figuring out what to do with the phone number.

On Day 1, I decided I’d text, not call. It was the cowardly thing to do, but the thought of him answering the phone and putting me on the spot made me want to run and hide.

Day 2 had been plain ole procrastination. I’d gone to the museum on the hope he’d be there, but like he’d said, that really was a horrible way of communicating.

Day 3, I decided, was the day of reckoning. I’d text him today.

Shit, did billionaires even text?

Maybe I should send a properly-formatted memo instead.

And what should I even write? Hey seemed too casual. Hi, maybe? How’s your day going? Wanna make out?

Gods, I’m bad at this.

After another two hours of staring at a blank screen, I send: Dinner tonight?

Then, because I realize I’m a fucking idiot: It’s Feyre, btw.

I throw my phone across the room in embarrassment, and put my head in my hands like that’ll unsend the message, then jump the couch like a hurdle when I hear a ding.

And promptly frown when I read: If you’re going to ask me out, you have to call me like an adult.

I can practically hear his the smile in his voice, and I grit my teeth in annoyance.

But I call him anyway.

“Look who grew up,” he says in lieu of hello, voice gravelly and amused.

“Oh, shut up. Do you want to buy me dinner or not?”

He laughs at that, the sound making my lips twitch. “I would love to buy you dinner. But only because I can’t bear the thought of you eating Ramen for the third time this week.”

Narrowing my eyes and glancing around like a fugitive, I try to figure out how the hell he knows I’ve been surviving on reheated, soggy noodles for the past week.

I don’t have the chance to ask before he declares, “I’ll pick you up at six. Oh, and check your doorstep.”

The line clicks dead ominously, and I glance suspiciously at my front door.

Tiptoeing over, I peek outside, eyes going wide when I see a package leaning against the brick side of the building.

How long has that been here? I got the mail yesterday, so it had to come today, but... how did he know I’d call today? Is he Batman or something?

I grab the package, roll my eyes at the big red bow on top, and put it on the counter. Then I pick it back up and shake it like that’ll tell me what he’s up to.

But the curiosity starts to kill me, and I rip into the pretty packaging like a feral animal, unable to wait another second. A shiny black box is inside, and I flip the top open, eyebrows flying up when I look inside.

The dress is blood red and looks fitted and beautiful. But that isn’t what surprises me. It the thin, lacy underwear with a note attached. A note that reads, in Rhysand’s slashy, distinct handwriting, These are optional.

The feminist in me flares, and I decide right then and there to make him eat those words.

When six o’clock comes around, I’m prepped and ready for battle.

My hair is done, my makeup pristine, and the dress is hugging every curve and propping my boobs up to sit nicely on my chest. I don’t typically give myself compliments, but I look damn good. And more than that, I feel good.

I also don’t typically wear bold makeup, but I’ve thrown that rule out the window.

My lips match the dress, a dark, ruby red that makes my skin look pale in comparison. I’m complete shit at eyeliner, but I put enough mascara on to frame my eyes and make the blue pop against the red of my lips and dress.

I look like a mix between a pinup girl and a vampire, basically.

Knowing how punctual he is, as soon as the clock on my phone reads 7:00, I swing the door open and smile broadly.

Rhysand pauses, fist halfway to where the door was, and uses a long moment to take me in. His eyes linger on my lips, the exposed cleavage, the sweep of my hips. His mouth drops open slightly, but before he can speak, I step out and lock the door behind me.

“The problem with your chauvinistic little plan to tell me what to wear, Rhysand,” I tell him, slipping the lace he’d gifted me into his pants pocket and accidently feeling him up, “Is that now you know I’m not wearing any underwear.”

“It was a flawed plan, I admit.” He swallows, eyes narrowing on my hips like he can sense if I’m telling the truth. “But the important thing is to not stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reasons for existing.”

I roll my eyes. “Quoting Einstein now to make yourself feel smart?”

He smiles at that. “Stop calling me on my shit, Feyre. Let’s go.”

I take his hand, happy with myself for winning this round, and let him pull me down the street. He stops in front of a dark, speedy looking car. “Beefcakes busy tonight?”

He gives me a strange look, then laughs loudly. “His name is Rolando.”

Still chuckling, he opens the door for me before walking around to his side. The car’s low to the ground and dark inside, and it makes a loud, rumbling sound when he turns it on.

He grins, almost like he can’t help it, and I laugh. “Boys and their toys.”

Rhysand pulls out of the spot smoothly, driving slowly because of the traffic. He reaches over and puts a hand on my thigh, just below the hem of the dress.

It’s warm and wonderful and casual enough to not mean anything, but I’ve made it my goal tonight to make him cry like a baby, so I swat it away. “Don’t even start.”

“Start what?”

I look over at him and smile sweetly. “Trying to seduce me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I link our fingers together and rest them on the center consol. “Where are we going?”

“New York.”

My mouth drops open. “Um, what? That’s like a twelve hour drive.”

“We’re not driving.”

I gesture around us with my free hand. “Yes, we are.”

“You are such a little smartass tonight. We are currently driving, but we aren’t driving to New York. And before you ask, the answer is yes.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “To what question?”

“If it’s my plane.”

I drop his hand and throw both of mine up in frustration. “Okay what gives? Did you stick a chip in my head or something?”

He smiles, pulling onto the interstate smoothly. Even though it’s not as crowded, he still drives slower than I’d expected when I saw the car. “Your face is very easy to read.”

“It is not,” I argue, my face instantly finding insult with that statement.

“Yes, it is. I’ll prove it to you. Tell me two truths and a lie, and I bet I can guess which one is the lie.”

“What’s the bet?”

He takes his eyes off the road to give me a very male look. I narrow my eyes, picking up on the innuendo in his gaze, and he laughs.

“And if I win?” I ask, taking in his profile while he drives and trying not to sigh at how handsome he is. Such a nice jawline.

“I’ll answer three of the questions you’re dying to ask.”

Oh, he knows me too well for this. His smile grows because he knows I’m a fish gladly swallowing the hook, but still asks, “Do we have a deal?”

“Deal.”

I take a few minutes to think of facts about myself.

“I had a pet goat when I was little, my best friend’s a lesbian, and I think Mick Jagger is sexy.”

They’re the three most random things I could think of, things he’d have absolutely no way of knowing.

But the damn bastard still says immediately, “Your best friend isn’t a lesbian.”

My mouth drops open because technically, she’s bi, and I make a strangled sound of disbelief that makes him grin. “I told you. You’re a bad liar. Shame, I could tell you really wanted to ask those questions.”

“I hate you,” I tell him, beyond annoyed myself.

He pulls off the highway and turns, leading us out to a dusky private airfield I--shockingly--never knew was behind the airport. Rhysand slows to a stop and looks over at me, then leans slowly to press his lips to mine.

It’s warm and sweet and soft, but I feel it all the way to my toes.

He ruins the moment by murmuring, “I’ll take my reward later, by the way.”

I shove him over to his side of the car and climb out, then realize I don’t know where to go. We’re surrounded by expensive looking planes, one of which is obviously owned by the billionaire trying to get in my pants, but I don’t know which one.

I glance back over my shoulder at him, and he smirks and points at the one to our right.

“Are you seriously taking me to New York?”

I kind of thought he’d been joking, but he nods. “My favorite restaurant is there.”

“You're ridiculous.”

“More like hungry,” he argues, holding out a hand to gesture up the open steps leading in the plane.

I stay where I am, casting a curious glance up the stairs. It looks nice and shiny in there, but no matter how nice and shiny, it’s basically a steel death trap.

Even though I can feel his eyes on me and desperately want to hide this fact about myself, I can’t step up.

And because he’s an observant little asshole, he notices. “You’re afraid to fly.”

“Um, well, not afraid-”

“You’ve never flown before.”

I nod, blushing from embarrassment. I mean, it’s obvious he flies all the time if he has his own plane, and I’m small town enough to have never even been in one.

“Don’t be embarrassed. My first time flying was three years ago, Feyre.”

My face must look doubtful, because he nods. “I’m serious. I never saw the point until a business rivalry made me feel inadequate. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. We can go somewhere else.”

He’s sweet to offer, but... I want to go. I’ve never been to New York, and when am I going to get an offer like this again?

“I’m... uh... are you sure about this thing?” I reach out and grab the handle of the stairs, shaking it to see if it’ll fall off or something.

“Yes.”

There’s no argument, no doubt in his voice. And I know it’s irrational, but-

Strong arms wrap around my waist and heft me up, and I yelp as Rhysand flings me over his shoulder and my head comes very close to his ass. “What are you doing?”

“Kidnapping you. You obviously want to go, and I’d hate to miss the reservations.”

“Rhysand, wait, hold on a second.” He ignores me entirely and walks up the stairs and inside the plane, even stopping to shake hands with the pilot. I’m dropped in a plush chair, and before I can object, a seatbelt is around my waist.

“See?” He gestures around. “Like a living room.”

“In the sky!”

He shrugs like that’s an irrelevant detail, looking back over his shoulder and gesturing again to the pilot. I peek around him to see the door seal closed, then the gentle-looking man disappears in the control room.

“He’s the one flying this thing?” I mean, he looked competent enough, but...

I start freaking out.

Rhysand slips his jacket off, throwing it over the back of a seat before sliding into it, gentle grace and luxury lining his every movement. His eyes roam over me slowly, and I can tell he’s about to try and distract me before he even says, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I pant back, gripping the arms of the seat with white knuckles.

Plan A having failed, he swiftly moves onto B. “Are you really not wearing underwear?”

B, I have to admit, does a decent job of momentarily distracting me from my inevitable death. “I thought you said I’m easy to read.”

He smirks. “Tell me anyway. I won the bet, remember?”

“I remember you never specified the terms, so-”

I cut myself off as the plane starts rolling, and if I had half a mind to care, I’d worry my painted nails are about to bust through the soft leather of his chair.

I feel like fucking throwing up or stabbing him or running far away or crying.

Rhysand, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, sprawled casually in the seat across from me.

The plane makes a slow turn, then pauses. Apprehension sweeps over me, and I groan and look at the ceiling.

“Allow me to rectify that horrible mistake. My prize is... a kiss.”

Despite the nausea, I raise a brow and looks at him suspiciously. “You want to kiss me? That’s it?”

“Mmhm. Right now. Close your eyes.”

“But the plane-”

He shrugs and waves a hand. “Just close your eyes, love.”

I shut up and close my eyes, slightly pursing my lips and waiting patiently. I hear a shuffle, feel the warmth of his body come close to mine. My breath draws shallow in anticipation, goosebumps appearing on my arms.

There’s another pause, and I’m about to open my eyes to see where he went, but then the plane attempts to break the sound barrier and takes off, and I’m thrown back against the seat.

At the same time, I feel a kiss on the inside of my knee.

My eyes fly open to find Rhysand kneeling in front of me, hands bracketing my thighs. I open my mouth to say something, but he growls, “Close. Your. Eyes.”

The frank demand in his voice gives me no option, and as soon as I do, he kisses my thigh again in reward.

“Now spread your legs.”

The plane goes faster and faster. “Rhysand...”

He sighs, a long-suffering sound that makes me giggle as I once again do what he wants. I mean, really, why was I even hesitating?

It’s obvious what he’s doing, and even though it’s not safe in the slightest, I’m well on board with the idea.

His hands move to my knees, then glide up, pushing the tight hem of the dress up. He’s pressing open-mouth kisses to my thighs as he goes, and then his hands slide up another inch, and my lack of undergarments are revealed.

“Fuck, Feyre,” he says, like my going commando was my idea, not his.

I’m about to point that out when he leans forward and put his mouth on me. At the same time the plane lifts off the ground.

I’m torn between panic and ecstasy. The combination makes me light headed, and a rush of adrenaline hits my system, making me gasp.

I try to sit up straighter in the seat, but he’s holding my hips in a death grip and pulls them the other way. I slide down, thighs falling further open. He slips his shoulders under them, completely in control of the situation, and all I can do is grip his hair and enjoy the ride.

His mouth is insistent and confident against me and makes me finally stop thinking about dying in a fiery plane crash.

He slides a hand up my thigh, somehow able to hold me still with just one, then presses a finger inside me. I groan and pull on his hair, squirming underneath his grip, but it’s useless.

Rhysand holds tight, his strong hands preventing me from moving, as he devours me completely. I make a helpless sound, but he doesn’t take mercy.

I think, instead of the crash, I’ll die from this instead.

I think I’ll just burn and burn and burn from the fire he’s ignited in my blood.

His name slips past my lips, and he pauses, then becomes even more demanding. I’m being adored, worshipped, eaten like a ice cream sundae.

Another finger slips inside me as his mouth sucks softly, and I come with a cry, practically strangling him with my thighs.

He keeps moving, kissing me softly, until my thighs go limp and I fall back into the seat with a huff.

He leans back on his heels, hands braced on my thighs, and runs his tongue across his lower lip in a way that makes me almost come again. Realization of what he just did courses through me, and I blush, well aware that my lady bits are still on display.

“Flying isn’t so bad after all.”

Rhysand laughs, pressing one last kiss to my knee before gently pulling my dress back into place. Then he sits back in his seat, crosses his legs, and looks me over slowly.

“Well, that was definitely a faulty plan, because now I don’t even want to go to dinner.”

“No?”

“No.”

The heat in his gaze sends a thrill through me, because suddenly, I don’t even care about New York. I want him to land this plane and take me home and give me a repeat of what just happened.

But now it’s abundantly clear that if I went home with him, I wouldn’t walk out with my sanity. So, once again a coward, I deflect. “Well, too bad. I’m hungry.”

He says something I can’t quite hear, the way he looks at me tells me not to ask.

“How long is the flight?”

He checks his watch. “About another half hour.” My mind wanders to very... creative ways we could fill that time, and I blush again. “I’m curious to know what you’re thinking about over there.”

His smile says he knows, so I look him over like he often does me and say softly, “I’m thinking about returning the favor.”

His eyes flare, his mind easily following mine, but he maintains his composure. “A half hour isn’t nearly enough time if we start going down that road.”

It takes me more than a second to figure out how to breathe again. “How much time would we need?”

“Days.”

Oh, holy hell.

I’m about to tell him to keep us in the air that long, but he winks and looks away, then presses a button on a remote I hadn’t noticed he was holding. A classy looking woman in a red skirt and matching blouse comes out of the cockpit, wheeling an ice bucket and holding two glasses.

“Good evening,” she says quietly, looking at me kindly but avoiding eye contact with Rhysand entirely as she pours us both champagne. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Then she’s gone.

I’m about to sip from my glass, but he reaches out and switches his with mine.

Immediately, I steal my original glass back. “I’m not getting poisoned because you pissed her off.”

“What makes you think I pissed her off?”

“She couldn’t even look at you.”

His lips twitch. “I know you’ll find this strange, but some people find me intimidating.”

I scoff, a very ladylike sound, and take a gulp of the champagne. Noticing he still hasn’t drank any of his, I take his glass and sip from it with a raised brow. “Are you going to let me die alone?”

He rolls his eyes and calls me a smartass but drinks from his glass anyway.

“Why are you always so sure someone’s trying to kill you, anyway?”

There’s a long pause, and he seems to be debating if he’s actually going to tell me before he responds, “I have a lot of enemies, Feyre.”

He sounds so unusually serious, like he’s just told me something important.

“I don’t,” I tell him with a sigh, suddenly irritated with my normal life. “I think I’ve grown a bit boring, actually. No one hates me, and I never even have to worry about being poisoned.”

Rhysand chuckles and gives me a strange look. “You’re not boring. And never worrying about being murdered isn’t a terrible thing.”

“I’m boring. I can’t even lie properly.”

“That,” he laughs, “I can’t argue with.”

“New game: I say something, and you guess if it’s a lie. No betting this time.”

He sighs but nods and gives me a get on with it gesture.

Keeping my face completely neutral and making sure my fingers aren’t twitching or any other obvious give away, I say, “I have two sisters.”

“True.”

I narrow my eyes, but take a deep breath and keep my cool. “I tried to learn Italian last summer.”

“Also true, but I’m willing to bet it went poorly.”

A laugh escapes me at that. “It was horrible. I’m complete shit at the accent.” I try to think of other facts about myself and come up short. Gods, I really am boring, aren’t I?

“I’ve never been in love.”

His eyes scan my face. “That’s a lie.”

“It is,” I confirm, looking at his chin and wondering why I even said that in the first place.

He ducks to catch my gaze. “Your ex?”

We’re getting into dangerous territory--even I know you don’t discuss your ex-boyfriend this early in the game--but he doesn’t seem upset or stressed or jealous. He looks... curious. So I shrug and nod.

“What happened?”

Taking another large gulp of champagne, I say, “He wanted to get married, I didn’t. I loved him, but... he was older and wanted something I just wasn’t ready to give him. And then he moved, and I got over it.”

Rhysand’s silent for a beat, a muscle in his jaw twitching, then nods like he understands. “Older, huh? You have a type.”

I laugh at the thought of the two of them being anything alike. “You couldn’t look more different from my ex. And you refused to actually tell me how old you are. ”

He sighs. “I’m seven years older than you.”

Quick math has never been my strong suit, but I figure it out eventually, my mouth dropping open when I do. “You’re twenty-eight?”

He nods in confirmation, and I proceed to lose my mind.

“Just twenty-eight? As in two eight, twenty-eight?”

Another nod, along with a very strange look.

I realize I’m acting just a little bizarre, so I shake my head to clear it and say, “You’re... very impressive, Rhysand.”

When I’m twenty-eight, I’ll probably be just another starving artist, looking for a museum to hire me as a curator and begging people to buy my paintings. I’ll be broke and will have developed an allergy to Ramen from how much I’ll be eating it.

I definitely won’t be a gazillionaire with a private art collection and enough real estate to own half the city of Chicago.

He shrugs uncomfortably, like my bewilderment isn’t deserved, and I can’t resist the temptation to tease him. “You also suck at taking compliments.”

“Yes,” he admits. “But so do you.”

“What? No, I don’t.”

He smiles and braces his elbows on his knees and immediately proceeds to prove me wrong. “You’re far more impressive than me. You’re gorgeous and talented and have a way of looking at the world that makes me feel like I haven’t lived a day of my life properly.”

I blush furiously and look at the ceiling of our death trap, wildly uncomfortable all of a sudden. “You’ve proved your point.”

Rhysand laughs, then glances at his watch. “We should be on the ground soon.”

Almost like he spoke it into being, the plane dips and a mechanical whirring sound meets my ears. Is that supposed to happen? “Oh, fucking hell, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“You did try to poison me.”

I give him a nasty look and mutter, “So fucking ridiculous, flying to another city for dinner. Next time, we’re going to Taco Bell.”

He rolls his eyes at my antics, unbuckling and moving to sit next to me. His hand slides into mine, warm and comforting, and I grab onto it like child child running from the boogeyman. His thumb runs over the back of my hand, and I sigh, leaning to put my head on his shoulder.

“Thanks for the dress,” I finally say, remembering my manners.

“It looks good on you. Like I said, I have excellent taste.”

I smile. “I’m waiting on dinner to confirm or deny that.”

Suddenly, there’s a large sound and a bump, then I’m leaning forward as the plane comes screeching to a halt. I press my eyes shut and squeeze the shit out of his hand, but he just keeps running his thumb along my skin, silently comforting me.

The plane comes to an eventual stop, and I peek open my eyes to see him grinning down at me. “Welcome to New York, Feyre darling.”

A week after our soiree to the Big Apple, I decide I have a problem.

I like Rhysand way too much to have only known him three weeks.

He’s all I fucking think about.

Which, I guess, isn’t a problem. Being swept off your feet is every little girl’s dream. But it’s getting harder and harder to resist sleeping with him.

I’ve been wined and dined and given searing kisses that make my toes curl, not to mention the whole incident on the airplane, but we haven’t actually had sex. Honestly, I thought I’d cave on the way back from New York, but I ended up passing out in a food coma before the plane even took off, my head nestled in the happy spot between his shoulder and neck.

I definitely want to sleep with him, so much so it makes my eyes cross just thinking about it, but it just scares me how much I like him.

And I know sleeping with him would just make me like him more.

I need a breather, need to get my distance and keep my head or whatever the saying is. I need to calm the fuck down, basically.

So I, being a mature adult, decide to avoid him.

I make it five days.

Five days of missed calls and intentionally unseen smoke signals.

Then he apparently decides to stoop to my level and figure out how to text, because five days after the most extravagant dinner date of my life, my phone dings.

If you ignore one more of my calls, I’m going to buy Dancers in Blue and light it on fire.

I spend exactly eighty-three seconds debating if he’s serious. I mean... surely not, right? I know he’s richer than sin, but he wouldn’t just burn fifty million dollars.

Right?

Rational thought and self preservation be damned, I pick up the phone when it starts to ring.

“That, Rhysand, was emotional manipulation.”

“Yes, it was.” He’s shameless. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.” I don’t know why I bother lying, since I’m apparently such shit at it, but I do. “I’ve been busy.”

Yes, very busy with watching nine movies in the past four days.

“With...?”

Inspiration dawns. “My senior project.”

“Oh, really?” A nervous sweat breaks out across my back at the knowing tone of his voice, and I begin to doubt my genius. “What’s the subject?”

“Uh, well-”

“Now that we’ve reestablished you’re a horrible liar, tell me what’s really going on.”

If he were here, I’d strangle him.

Or maybe kiss him.

“I need a few days,” I mutter, upset with myself for being an open book.

“Why?”

His simple question makes me think he doesn’t want space. Is he as into me as I am to him? Is that even possible?

“Because I like you,” I say honestly, having learned my lesson about lying.

Rhysand’s quiet for a long moment, then he chuckles. “I see the issue.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. Answer the door.”

What? “There’s no one at the door.”

At least there shouldn’t be, because I didn’t invite anyone over.

“Incorrect.”

Eyes already narrowed, I stomp over and fling the door open, practically ripping it off its hinges in my frustration. He’s leaning against the brick stoop, looking sexier than socks on a rooster in a midnight blue shirt and black slacks, smiling at me.

“You are not allowed to avoid me just because you like me,” he states, brushing past me without invitation.

“What do you think you’re doing here?”

He kisses my brow. “I like you, too.”

“Okay, but-”

“And I have cake.” He holds up a clear box, allowing me a glimpse of the fluffy chocolate deliciousness inside.

It’s almost annoying how well he knows me, because chocolate cake is my vice.

I try to think of another protest that won’t que him in to why I’m actually scared, but he cuts me off because of course, he already knows. “I won’t touch you, I promise. Even if you ask.”

My lips twitch. “Even if I ask?”

“Even if you beg,” he states with confidence, strolling into the kitchen like he owns the place. He looks around, face not giving a single detail away as he takes in everything.

Thankfully, I’m not a slob, so the place isn’t dirty, but it’s definitely not a penthouse apartment.

It’s a tiny old townhouse, barely big enough to even be called that. The water is lukewarm, never hot, and I had to just take the smoke detector out of the ceiling so it would stop beeping.

It’s part of my scholarship, and compared to where most college students live, it’s a dream, so I don’t complain.

His eyes roam over half-done canvases and art supplies, pictures of my sisters, random shit I don’t have the heart to throw away.

I sigh and bump him aside with a hip so I can grab two forks, then motion for him to follow me. We head into the living room, and I flop onto the couch dramatically, then motion for him to hand me the cake.

Sitting next to me with far more class, he flips open the lid and hands me a fork. “Chocolate mousse.”

“I’m going to be three hundred pounds if you keep feeding me,” I warn as I take a bite, not at all concerned with that possibility.

“I think you’ll be fine.”

I grab the remote and flip through movies, eventually sighing in defeat and putting on Scarface.

“Seriously?” he asks around a mouthful of cake, fighting a smile.

“It’s my favorite movie, and nothing good’s on anyway.”

He looks at me like I’m the most amusing thing he’s ever come across, but settles down and flings an arm around me. Fighting the urge to tell him this breaks his whole ‘no touching’ rule, I snuggle into his side.

Maybe it’s the cake, or the fact that I’m horrible at staying awake through a movie past eight o’clock, but I drift off to sleep, my face pressed into his chest.

~Rhysand~

I finish the movie--fucking Scarface--even though she fell asleep a while ago.

She’s soft and warm against me, body relaxed into mine without an ounce of hesitation.

She tried to hide it, but I know why she didn’t want to see me.

She’s falling for me.

Which, technically, is the plan.

Technically, everything is going great.

Except she’s fucking worming her way into my heart too. Which is so goddamn annoying, it makes me want to strangle her. Or maybe kiss her.

Being with her is... a wonderful kind of torture.

She’s beautiful and charming and doesn’t look at me with an ounce of fear in her bright blue eyes, but it’s also like holding up a mirror that shows me the worst parts of myself.

I hear her laugh and am reminded of the last time I laughed and loved freely. I see her beautiful soul and compare it to the bleakness of my own.

I look at her blind innocence and force myself to not care that I’ll be the one who robs her of it.

Maybe that’s why I finish the movie. I give myself two hours to sit here and enjoy her company, two hours where she doesn’t hate me or curse the day I was born.

But then the credits role, and I have to pull my head our of my ass and get on with it, no matter how much I don’t want to.

Moving slowly so she doesn’t stir, I lift her into my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck, fingers playing in the hair at my nape, and sighs happily.

I wish she wouldn’t do shit like that.

I wish she was heartless and cruel and cold.

I make my way up the creaky stairs to her room, then put her on the unmade bed, the covers horribly messy around her. The moonlight coming through the open window illuminates her skin and allows me to see how vulnerable she looks.

She’s in tiny little shorts that shouldn’t be legal, and a thin white shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide what’s underneath. Her hair’s a mess around her, her lips are parted, and there’s a calm, peaceful look on her face.

It’s perfect.

It’s horrible.

Taking a deep breath and running a hand through my hair, I tell myself not to care.

But as I take out my phone and snap a picture, my hands still shake.

And as I type the message I’ve been mentally drafting for years, I feel like I’m going to be sick.

But as much as I hate myself for it, a feeling of victory shoots through me as I hit send. Revenge, it seems, really is sweet.

And I’m just getting started.

___________________________________________

Part 4

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @alpha-omegas @joyceortiz13 @sapphic-beauty @meowsekai @ahappyhistorianreader @courtofjurdan @acalypsot @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @bamchickawowow @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#feysand #feysand fanfiction #feyre archeron #feyre x rhys #rhysand #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acofas #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury

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agentsofsupernaturalmarvel · 4 years

Text

Lost Time // Luke Patterson

Warning: Talk of death, depression, angst and fluff

Words: 2.2k

Might as well join the Julie and the Phantoms fan club!

Masterlist

“Hey.” Luke spoke, pressing a kiss to your cheek backstage, “Missed you.”

“You saw me last night.”

“A monumental time.” Luke bent his bend to place a lingering kiss on your bare shoulder, his jacket having fallen down, “Three years together and a bright future ahead.”

“We’re getting street dogs.” Luke spoke, bringing your body to rest on his chest, “Do you want one?”

“I’ll pass.” You wrinkled your nose, turning to wrap your arms around his neck, “I don’t know how you guys like those.”

“Tradition.” Luke shrugged caressing your cheekbone with the pad of this thumb. Gazing at features he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life, “Still down with the plan?”

“The minute I’m eighteen, we go to the nearest chapel.” You grinned playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I’ll be waiting Rockstar.”

1995 was the worst year of your life. 1996 was the hardest, especially with the forever reminder of your love. You wouldn’t trade 1996 for the world however, only wishing for one change.