#‹ interactions › — ❝ words dripping like honey. ❞ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

swordsandholly · 1 month

Text

Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

4K notes · View notes

ceilidho · 6 months

Text

landscape with honey

summary: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 4. (read the whole thing on ao3 here) tags: light daddy kink, breeding kink, very nsfw, she/her pronouns for reader

He starts showing up at your house at odd hours.

You’re fixing coffee in the morning, still fuzzy and warm from sleep, only to hear the sounds of hammering outside. Wrapping yourself in just a housecoat, you find John fixing the loose step on your stairs, barely sparing enough time to greet you before returning to the task at hand. When he finishes, he brushes off your attempts to pay him for the job, just loading his tools back in the car and driving off.

You sip your coffee and wonder. Odd.

The next day, you find him raking the leaves in your lawn. Two days later, he shows up at the grocers when you’re picking up produce, and helps you carry all your bags to the car. He also adds a peculiar amount of canned goods to your order and when you fret and try to tell him that you don’t need the pickles and sauerkraut and beans and all of that stuff, he just lays a hand flat on your head and drags it down your hair until you go quiet.

He pays for the whole order.

You’ve never had to wonder about a man’s actions. Men are largely inscrutable to you, ever-shifting. They say one thing and mean another. They look at you like one might look at an oil painting, entitled something like Virgin Meeting Her Lover’s Eyes From The Top Of The Staircase or Landscape With Virgin. They speak to you as though an answer were entirely antithetical to their purpose in conversing with you.

John listens to you with a focus that borders on intimidating, like he wants to hear each word enunciated exactly how you might enunciate it. It has the sharp clarity of respect, of a mutual acknowledgement of humanity. He also comes over to fix your sink without you having to ask. The world of men is still largely confusing to you.

John grows surlier as the days grow shorter though. He doesn’t snap or snarl at you the way he does sometimes with his recruits (you rarely see him interact with them, but sometimes you’ll drop him off his lunch on the days when you’re feeling particularly generous and that’s when you’ll have the rare pleasure of hearing him shout at a trembling twenty-three year old for littering on the trail like a military captain), but it’s a near thing.

The worst is when he catches you on a jog one morning on his drive to work. You see his truck with the faded red paint pass you by and you give a short wave that he returns. He passes you by about half a yard before coming to a full stop and reversing. You stare at him as the window rolls down, brows furrowed.

“Hi Jo—” you start.

“Get in the car,” John growls. You hear the doors unlock.

“…My uh…my shift’s in two hours, John, I can’t just—”

“Get in the car.”

“This is my only time to exercise!”

“If I have to get out of this car and drag you inside, honey, I will. Don’t play with me. Get in.”

You get in the car. Probably wisely. Still dripping sweat and shivering from the cold—you’re not used to jogging in the winter, or at all for that matter, but it seemed like as good a time as any to start—you glance over to stare at the side of John’s face. His jaw is set, almost as if in anger. His knuckles are white over the steering wheel as he makes a U-turn and drives back into town. The cab of his truck smells like flannel pulled out from the back of a closet, almost musty, but comforting in the way that old clothes can sometimes smell. There’s a cigarette ashed out in the dish in front of the centre console.

He takes you to the nearest bakery for coffee and a breakfast muffin and stares you down until you eat the whole thing. You feel like you have to scarf it down. Customers bustle into the bakery to order coffee to-go and fresh cookies and scones in waxy paper bags; everyone in town knows each other so you try to avoid the more curious stares when they’re turned on you.

“This is weird,” you say, staring down at the crumbs on your plate. “This is really weird.”

“This is what you get for exercising before winter,” John says, flagging down the barista for another muffin and a refill on your coffee. “Waste of calories.” The last part is said derisively, almost with a scoff.

You frown. “Lots of people exercise. Even when it snows.”

“Winter is a time for hibernating. Not…sweat,” he says with a grimace, like the very thought is anathema to him.

"Hibernating?" you repeat skeptically, scrunching up your nose. "I mean, I spend a lot of time indoors, but I wouldn't say I'm hibernating."

John stares at you until you look away, flushed. "Finish your breakfast."

The barista returns with another blueberry muffin and a fresh cup of coffee. At least John's the one paying. When he finally seems satisfied, he hustles you home and leaves you off at the door with a stern warning.

“You gonna be good for me this time?” he asks, a finger curled under your chin, tilting your head up. One of his hands curls around the doorframe and your heart jumps when you hear the wood creak under his grip. This close, you can see the faintest silver streaks at his temples and the flecks of it in his beard.

“It was just a light jog,” you mumble, looking away.

“Not a light anything,” he warns, ducking closer until you feel like shrinking back, like disappearing into your house. “Bake a cake if you have to burn off energy so bad. I’ll be over around seven, alright?”

You mumble something, the words getting lost in themselves. It’s impossible to think with John in your space like this. It’s only when he finally pulls away and ambles back to his truck that you rock back on your heels, let go of whatever spell he had you under.

The first week of December hits town like a truck.

You’re trudging home alone after your shift when you make the decision to cut through the forest because you missed the last bus and you don’t want to spend an hour walking home. The first snow of the season has caught you off guard, clad in boots too autumnal and a sweater too thin for the biting cold. The flakes fall in thick chunks that stick for a brief moment before melting into the skin.

It’s not the first time you’ve travelled through the forest alone. The town is surrounded by pockets of the forest, like it can’t help enveloping whatever space is left for it. Oftentimes it’s easier just to cut through the woods rather than travel the long way around. You wouldn’t even call this the forest proper, not like the acres of trees sprouting over the mountains just off in the distance.

A bush rustles. Your eyes flick over for a second, breath hovering in your chest before you decide that it’s just a squirrel. Nothing ever happens in a town like this. The man from the other day notwithstanding, nothing truly bad ever happens. You keep walking down the partially demarcated path, lit only by the full moon overhead. It’s so dark that the snow around you is almost blue.

The bush rustles again. You stop this time, feet staying planted in the snow long enough for your feet to grow cold. You stare at the dark shoots covered in a layer of snow; it stripes the branches like candy from a time ago, licorice twisted with white bark, and it doesn’t move when you look at it. The bushes and trees are dense, impossible to peer through. Even walking through the forest doesn’t make you feel immersed in it. You follow a barely marked path, hard to see through the recent snowfall, and stare out into the dark woods with a kind of animal sense. Not sure whether you’re alone, whether something’s there with you, and whether it’s sensed you or if you’ve sensed it first.

You start walking again when your feet go numb. Better to just get home.

It comes behind you again as a slightly louder rustle. It’s harder to shake off the fear this time, harder to say that it’s just the wind. The snow crunches under more than one set of feet, branches cracking under the weight of something larger than you.

You don’t want to turn around, but the sound of something chuffing makes your stomach drop. The first thing that emerges when you turn to face it is its massive head, a white frosted muzzle, and the visible hump on its back. The wispy smoke of its breath puffs out when it breathes. Its eyes are dark, hardly reflecting any light at all. Then the rest of it emerges, the saplings bending out of its way as it clambers out of the woods and onto the path, staring you down all the while.

You’ve never seen a bear before. Not this close. Not so close that you know it’s been stalking you, know that it didn’t come upon you by accident. You’re staring down at your own body from somewhere else, fear displacing you. Rending you from your own body. There’s no way to guess its weight at a glance, but it’s easily twice the size of you, easily more than that.

When it takes a step forward, everything goes dark.

You wake up snuggled under the warmth of a thick blanket. Sleep is creamy thick, engulfing you on all sides, only the faintest prickle of awareness letting you know that you’re awake.

It’s unpleasant to leave the cotton miasma of sleep, you think. Your nose scrunches up and you let out a tired huff, trying to will yourself back into it. The harder you try to force yourself back into it though, the farther away it floats.

Still it weighs you down. It takes an age to work up the energy to so much as twitch a finger. Even your eyelids insist on staying shut. Yet, the prickle of consciousness needles at you as if to say hello, wake up, you need to get up. You sigh and try to shimmy up onto your elbows.

A hand shoves you back down. The breath rushes out of you.

“Get…back down,” a rough voice grunts from over you and then the full weight of a man settles on top of you, pressing you deep into the mattress.

Consciousness snaps back into you, elastic sharp. The weight of him pins you to the bed, makes you sink into the plushness of—and this is gradually coalescing in your mind—an unfamiliar place. All four corners of your body are trapped under him. The voice is familiar though. Ragged, brutal. A saw taken to the trunk of an old, thick tree, too many interior rings to count. You whisper John’s name and he grunts, making you flinch from how the sound reverberates through the side of your head.

Exhaustion is thick though and it leaves you heavy, even when John slowly lifts himself to his elbows from behind you. You feel him drag his body down the length of the bed, beard scratching into your skin with every petal soft kiss dropped along your spine during his descent.

“John?” you whisper, only just able to turn your head, not even able to struggle up to your elbows. “J-John?”

He doesn’t answer you. The room is near pitch black, only a window on the other end of the room with the curtain pulled back the smallest amount enough to let the moonlight in. Even the moonlight isn’t enough. You know from the shape of the window that this isn’t your house, that it must be somewhere else. You can only surmise from John’s presence that it’s his, but that thought passes over you like a rock skipping over water.

“Wher’m’I?” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut when his lips press over the small of your back. Sensitive there.

Rough hands with callused fingertips smooth over your ass, pressing into the flesh. His fingers pry your cheeks apart, thumbs dipping into the space between and pressing over your hole, making you burn all over. You’re too far gone to worry about any hair on your legs or anything about your body other than John’s hands undulating over your ass and thighs. You flinch violently when his teeth sink into the meat on the underside of your ass, so tender that even exhausted to the bone your body lashes out.

Big hands pry your legs apart. You flinch at the sudden hot breath over your sex, a whine tickling your throat. His face hovers so close to your centre that the tip of his nose presses on the tender skin near your entrance.

“Wha’ d’you…think you’re doin’...” you ask breathlessly. Your brain tries to order your leg to kick, but it stays flat and limp on the bed.

The first touch of John’s tongue along your slit makes you melt, the flat of his tongue lapping upward and making your hips tilt up with it. It almost makes your mind go blank again, almost tips you back into the unconscious world because the synapses in your brain stop firing the second you remember that it’s John between your legs licking hungrily at your cunt. John from the grocery store, John from the ranger’s station in the mountains—the John you’ve been crushing on and coveting for months now, content to just be friends with the gruff, handsome man in the house next to yours. Now sucking one of your nether lips into his mouth and tracing his tongue up the inside, gliding it over the supple flesh.

“Yer in the den,” John mumbles into your pussy and it’s like he sears the words into your brain. “‘N I’m takin’ care of you, honey.”

“The…the den…?” It’s so hard to keep your thoughts in order. Each flick of his tongue makes you gasp, pussy growing wetter and hips grinding languidly down on his face.

He hums instead of answering.

“Why’m’I so tired?” you slur.

His tongue saws over your clit from behind. It tears a broken whimper from you. You feel every textured ridge, the way it flicks around in a circle and then up and down again.

“Winter season,” John says, sucking your clit into his mouth until you whine at the top of your lungs. “Bear’s sleep in winter.”

“Tha’s silly. M’not a bear,” you moan.

“No,” he agrees, humming into your sex. “Jus’ mated to one. Makes you sleepy too, honey.”

“Mated?” you repeat back, but it’s lost in the way you moan when he eats your pussy from the back, licking into you with renewed vigour. Hungry like a bear. Grunting like a satisfied man, slurping loud enough to make your face heat up.

Words and old memories about bears hardly matter when the handsome man from next door spreads your legs wide, almost to the point of pain, and sinks his tongue into your hole again. You never would’ve expected John to be vocal, but he’s noisy behind you, groaning into your cunt. He keeps mumbling things under his breath that you can’t catch.

“John—” you gasp, biting your lip when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. “John—John—”

He only has to give you a single finger to tip you over the edge, feeds it in nice and slow. Your cunt clenches down at the intrusion, teeth nearly breaking through the skin of your lip.

When he crawls back over you, anticipation makes you shudder. You hear something faint in the background that grows steadily louder as John rests his elbows on either side of your head, until you realize that it’s your own voice murmuring, “Put it in, put it in, put it in—”

He obliges. A thick, steady plunge that hardly manages more than a handful of inches before you’re crying, and it’s too much, too much, too much. Pleasure not a limpid pool anymore but something cavernous and deep-dwelling, pulling you in or trying to make a home inside of you for it. John’s biceps tense with the strain of holding himself back.

You balance on the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain. There’s a single thought in your head that it might burn you up from the inside; it runs a jagged hole through you.

His nose drags through your hair. “Never expected you. Thought I’d go another season alone ‘till I started smellin’ you around town.”

You hiccup. “Y’never—never paid me any attention ‘for— before, ah—”

“‘Course I paid attention to’ya, honey,” John says into your ear, grunting when he drives deeper into your pussy, still just a languid grind of his hips, so mind-numbingly slow that your thoughts sizzle out of your head. He keeps dragging his hips back and plunging in, barely pulling away from you, all skin on slick skin. “Made a home for m’self in your house. Made sure we had ‘nough to eat for the winter.”

“The winter?”

“Won’t be goin’ anywhere for a few months.” He brushes your hair out of the way to kiss down your neck, giving in to the urge to bite just a little. His body stays pressed tight to yours, hardly an inch of space between the two of you. “Wasn’ sure at first if it’d be here or in your house so… fuck, I had to get ready. Make sure you’d be safe when it hit.”

“Don’ even…know wha’ that means,” you mumble into the mattress, then squeal and fist the fists when John shoves a hand under you to grope your chest.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shushes you. “All y’have to do now is lie there ‘n take my cock, okay, honey? Can’ya do that for me? I’ll get some food in you after we’re done, then send ya back to bed.”

Only a whine comes out when you open your mouth. John’s arm by your head forces you to breathe in the scent of him, musky and rich. You stare at the hair on his knuckles and his thick fingers gripping the sheets as well, old nicks and scars decorating his hand. You can’t stop staring at his fingers and thinking that he had one of those in you before, that he’s felt you from the inside.

He never pulls away, never changes positions, just fucks you on your tummy in his bed. You’ve never been in John’s bedroom before, but this has to be his room—even the pillowcase smells like him, pine needles and cigar smoke. He keeps up a steady pounding into your cunt, rutting like a wild animal. Has to be close. Gets so close to you that you feel smothered, trapped in place. Like if you struggled, he wouldn’t let up. You want to test it, see if you could, but the heaviness is still in your limbs, keeping you docile. Convenient. A little convenient thing for him to use, like a doll to get himself off with.

“Never coulda imagined such a pretty girl f’r me,” John groans, getting a grip in your hair to twist your head, tugging you into a kiss. Your whole body sparks to life, so shocked that you can’t even kiss him back at first. You wait until he pulls back, staring into his half-lidded eyes through the mess of your hair all tangled up around you. “Gave up on thinkin’ there was anyone out there. Thank fuck I found you first, honey. Can start workin’ on all the good stuff now. Get you to give daddy a baby.”

“D-daddy?” you gasp back, almost scandalized.

He pants into your shoulder, worked up now. “Yeah, honey. Don’ I take care of you? Buy y’r food, fix y’r house? Give you someplace nice ‘n warm to sleep?”

You feel soaked with sweat, twitchy, on the verge of something dangerous. Vision all fogged up, heart beating so fast that your skin buzzes. Stretched out on a fat cock and pinned in a man’s bed, nowhere to run or hide.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter when John gets a bit rougher, his breathing getting more staggered, laboured.

“That’s right, girl,” he grunts, “I’m y’r fuckin’ daddy then, aren’t I?”

Magma bubbles up from deep inside of you. Rockslides off in the distance beat against the ground. When you cry out, it gets lost in the rubble.

You stumble into the living room maybe hours later after using the washroom across the hall. Maybe a day later. It’s hard to say how many times the sun has risen and fallen behind the mountains. The clock face stares back at you uncomprehendingly.

Come drips out of you onto the floor. Thick droplets run down your inner thighs. John is still sleeping in the bed where you left him, snoring like a chainsaw. It must’ve been what woke you up. There’s no way of knowing how long it’s been since he first brought you home, since he left a mess in your pussy, which is still puffy and sore from rough use. You walk with halting little steps to try to minimize the ache.

You stare bleary-eyed around the room. It feels somehow different than the previous times John’s had you over; there are more throws and blankets draped over the couch, candles scattered around the living room with a lighter on the mantle.

There’s a fire roaring in the fireplace, blanketing the house in a layer of warmth. It makes you sluggish, stumbling forward only a handful of steps before the shaggy rug in front of the fire drags you back down to the floor.

“What’re you doing out of bed, pretty girl?” someone rumbles from behind you.

“Had t’pee,” you say, blinking. You try to rub the sleep out of your eyes unsuccessfully. “Why’m’I still so tired? It’s been…I slept so long…”

“C’mon, honey,” John says, coming up behind you and curling his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Told you it was gonna be a long winter. Maybe just one more and then somethin’ to eat, okay?”

It’s easy to sink to the floor, so easy. Especially with the fluffy rug under your feet. Especially with the fireplace toasting you from the outside in, the tinder crackling in the hearth. Everything in the house is dark and warm, only the fire giving you any light at all. Outside the window, the moon is still heavy in the sky.

Something about the humidity of the den makes you suddenly so tired, boneless, pliable when he goes to move you, when John curves himself around you in the furs and reaches down to slide a hand between your thighs.

He grunts when he finds you wet and wanting, sinking a couple fingers in and palming your clit. He doesn’t talk much still, but he says good girl when he cants your hips and slowly stretches you out on his cock. Feeds it into you achingly slow, like molasses. Like nothing’s due for another few months, so why rush it? He’ll take his time so you’re nice and happy and sweet come spring for cubs.

You’re not sure what that means. The pace is slow and deep, like before but less intentional. Like he just wants to savour the warmth of your body.

When he finally comes deep inside you, your body goes limp, collapsing in a heap onto the rug. You expect John to pull out and turn over, maybe pull you onto his chest so you have somewhere to rest. Instead, he sighs all tired and content, and stays in you, still plugged up in your cunt, his spend only just starting to leak out into a pool beneath you.

“Are we gonna eat?” you mumble, already half-asleep.

Somewhere behind you, he laughs; it’s soft like a snowfall in winter. “Yeah, honey. After a nap, we can eat.”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #captain price #captain john price #cod price #john price #price/reader #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader

2K notes · View notes

ushiwhacka · 1 year

Text

time skip! bokuto kōtarō + fem! reader | mdni | 439 words | established relationship, oral (f! receiving), fingering, overstimulation, this is what i think about in meetings <3

wearing gym tights around bokuto is always a risk. sometimes all you get is a harsh smack on your ass, the soft flesh jiggling under the force of his large hand, leaving a stinging print on your skin.

but more often, you end up bent over the nearest surface, his cock fucking into your cervix and your ass squeezed raw and marked by his grabby, impatient hands. or with his tongue dipping inside you, exploring every crevice between your legs.

right now that surface is the couch. he only needs a few seconds before your head is pressed in the cushions, back arched so perfectly beneath the weight of his arms, and your pussy nice and bare and ready for him. tights pulled down your thighs, the fat of them spilling over the waistband where it digs into your body, bokuto buries his face between your legs with a whine.

you feel a flash of embarrassment at the obscene slurping sounds spilling from deep within his chest as he makes out with your twitching cunt. his thumbs push into your skin, spreading you open before he kisses your tiny hole. “s’ pretty, my cute little pussy.” and you can feel how breathless, how choked up he is. “taste so good.”

his tongue dips between your folds, sweet and sticky like honey over it, and little strangled whines pour from your lips. and he’s so messy, half of his face covered in your slick, barely even breathing. he backs away for a moment but only to look at how you clench over nothing. “you’re perfect.” dipping his thumb inside you as he taps his fingers on the soft flesh of your pussy.

then he licks a slow strip from your clit up to your entrance. soft whines turn into wailing as he roughly moves his flat tongue up and down over your clit, over and over and over again. your hips are bucking into his face. then away. it’s too much. but it feels so good. you want it all and you want to get away. but his arms wrap around you, strong enough to hold you nice and still and open as his lips wrap around your clit.

the thoughts seep out of your brain until you’re limp and pliant, sinking deeper into the sofa. your swollen cunt gushing. and bokuto is there to collect it all, feel you drip on his tongue and down his throat, demanding more and more and more and more until your cheeks are stained with tears and your pussy aches for release. and he still hasn’t had enough.

“jus’ one more, baby. one more.”

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

#haikyuu smut #bokuto smut #bokuto koutarou x you #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto kotaro smut #bokuto kotaro x reader #bokuto kotaro x you #bokuto x reader #bokuto x you #bokuto x y/n

5K notes · View notes

gigabyte-flare · 1 year

Text

Insatiable (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: Your collages should have listened to you.

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: yandere plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Extreme violence and gore, biting, dubcon, forced breeding, gross las plagas-y things, death, mentions of un-aliving. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

A/N: Huge shout out to @chanif-art who's artwork continues to inspire me and this story. I am completely blown away with how well part 1 was received. Thank you to everyone who's liked, reblogged, commented and even simply read it. I didn't do a tag list for this one because I think well over 50 people asked and I completely lost track. Anyway, I hope this meets your expectations! I was listening to Little Girl Gone while writing this... for some reason it just fits plagas!Leon.

“Honey, I’ve changed so much since I last saw ya.”

You open your eyes, finding yourself inside Leon’s cell. You dart your head around, looking frantically when you realize you’re chained to the chair, the same chair Leon had previously been chained to. You hear Leon chuckle, a low chilling sound as he walks up from behind you, taking long, slow strides. He turns to face you, you notice the black veins sprawling his body have gotten darker, his eyes more red. He grins as he kneels down to be at eye level with you, his four canine teeth noticeably sharp. He runs his tongue along his teeth.

“There you are, sweetheart. I didn’t think you’d wake up,” Leon says with a purr.

Your eyes are wide, taking labored deep breaths before you attempt to struggle. Leon laughs, shaking his head.

“That won’t do you any good I’m afraid, but don’t worry, I’ll get you out of those chains so we can have some play time.”

Leon stands back up, walking back behind you. You hear him break the chains apart with his bare hands. You waste no time bolting out of the chair and to the door. No matter how much you pull, the door won’t budge. You turn around to find Leon standing directly behind you. He grabs you by the waist pulling you to him. You flail your arms at him, trying to fight him off. Out of the corner of your eye you see Bryan on the other side of the clear panel holding a clipboard, taking notes.

“Bryan?! Get me out of here! I’m trapped in here with him, please! He’s going to hurt me!”

Bryan lifts his head, shaking it, “the data you’ll provide from this is too valuable to pass up I’m afraid. We need to know if he’s capable of procreating with a un-infected human and what the offspring will look like.”

“WHAT?!” you scream, “Bryan have you lost your mind?!”

Completely ignoring your pleas, Bryan continues, “remember what we agreed on, Leon. You are not to infect her with the plaga until she gives birth. After that, you can do with her as you please.”

“I remember the agreement, you fucking prick,” Leon growls next to your ear before he licks your earlobe.

“NO I DID NOT AGREE TO THIS BRYAN, YOU LET ME OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!” you continue to scream as you try to fight Leon off.

Leon, however, is much more powerful than you; he bites into your shoulder and makes short work of pinning you to the floor, his hands gripping your jeans and ripping them off you, leaving you with your pair of lace panties. You attempt to crawl across the floor towards Bryan, but Leon drags you back by your hips. Leon flips you over to face him, caging you with his body. He simply stares down at you, his smile wide. You watch as drool drips from his face onto your shirt, which he promptly rips apart to reveal your matching bra to him.

“Aren’t you just delicious to look at?” Leon says, licking his lips before locking his lips onto yours in a hungry kiss.

To your horror, you’re returning his kiss, his hands grasping to both of your breasts. He pulls away after a couple minutes, sitting on his haunches as he pushes your legs apart, noting the dark spot that is now on your panties.

“Oh? You don’t want this? Then tell me why you’re so fucking wet, sweetheart?”

Leaning forward, he grabs your panties with his teeth, dragging them off you before tossing them aside. He then begins undoing the belt on his pants; before long he is pulling his hardening cock from his pants. He wastes no time climbing back on top of you, pushing himself inside you balls deep with ease.

When the head of his cock kisses your cervix, your eyes roll into the back of your head as you let out a soft moan. Leon growls, thrusting into you with an insatiable ferocity, causing you to grip his arms, scratching into them with your nails. You felt like he was fucking you for an eternity when he let’s out another growl, pressing into you as deep as he could possibly go. You feel your cunt clamp around his cock, milking his cum into your body.

Leon stares back down at you, his eyes and grin wide as he laughs maniacally.

You wake up screaming, covered in sweat and tears streaming down your face. You take deep breaths, laying your hand on your chest to ground yourself.

It was just a nightmare.

Once you get yourself calm, you climb out of bed and go into the kitchen of your apartment, making yourself coffee and some toast for breakfast. Afterwards, you get ready for work and head out the door. On your way, you decide to stop at the pharmacy. Walking the aisles, you find the feminine hygiene products, grabbing an ovulation test off the shelf and paying for it. Once you get to HQ, you trap yourself into one of the bathroom stalls, taking the test and waiting for the results. You watch in horror as a little smiley face shows up on the little screen, confirming your hypothesis.

You collect yourself before briskly walking into Bryan’s office. You don’t knock, you simply push the door open aggressively, startling both Bryan and the researcher he’s meeting with, you think his name is Pierce.

“I am not going back down there, Bryan,” you say sternly.

Pierce shifts uncomfortably in his seat before standing up to leave, “I’ll go check on the camera feed downstairs.”

You and Bryan stare at each other as the door swings shut. Bryan rubs his eyes.

“Not this again, I’m sorry but I need you to go down there, you’re still the only one Leon talks to. Is this about what happened yesterday? I assure you, we have taken extra precautions to ensure that doesn’t happen again.”

You stomp up to Bryan’s desk, slamming the positive ovulation test onto the desk. Bryan looks down at the test before looking at you and raising an eyebrow.

“The fuck is this?” he asks.

“I’m ovulating, this is why Leon keeps saying I smell good and wants to practically throw himself on me whenever I’m down there.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Can you think of a logical explanation, then? I’m all ears.”

“This is not up for debate, you are going to continue working with Leon; that’s an order!”

Suddenly, the lights go dim before red emergency lights come on followed by a loud, screeching alarm.

“What the hell?!” Bryan exclaims, looking around confused.

You’ve never heard this alarm during your entire time at D.S.O., you rack your brain around what it could mean when suddenly, Pierce bursts into the office.

“Pierce! What the hell is going on out there?!” Bryan asks.

“Kennedy’s escaped, sir!”

Leon opens his eyes and lifts his head, looking around his cell. Deep down he was seething in rage; he had gotten so close to getting out of this chair and having his way with you. Now, his chair had reinforced steel plating welded to it and they strapped a god damn muzzle onto his face. He could see he now had two men with guns guarding the door at all times.

Fucking beautiful.

He tested the chains again, but found they had been tightened recently, angering him even more. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and hoped he would see you today. He hated the thought of you seeing him like this, but he desperately wanted to see you and inhale your sweet, sweet scent.

Out of nowhere, an excruciating pain jolts down Leon’s spine, causing him to cry out and writhe in his chair. His four canine teeth grow sharper, his fingers turning black and now taking on a claw-like appearance and a new, sharp appendage was peaking out of his lower back. The guards turned around to look at Leon. They immediately unlock the door and come into this cell to check on him. Leon stops writhing, slumping over in his chair, pretending to be passed out. One guard stays by the door, facing away from them while the other comes over to check on Leon, checking the chains to make sure they’re in place.

Unbeknownst to the guard closest to Leon, Leon’s new tail was extending from his back, coming around from behind the guard. It was very similar to a scorpion’s tail, but instead of a barb on the end, it looked like a blade. Within an instant, Leon’s tail wraps around the guard’s neck, snapping it instantly as four claw-like appendages burst from Leon’s back, breaking the chains holding his arms in place. Hearing the other guard fall to the floor the other guard turns around only to be faced with Leon, who is now up out of his chair and walking towards him, ripping the muzzle off his face, flashing a maniacal grin at the guard. The guard goes to shoot Leon but Leon is much faster, his tail whipping forward and impaling the man in the chest before flinging him aside.

Leon strides out of his cell, looking down the hallway to see a pair of researchers coming down the hallway. Upon seeing Leon out of his cell, they start shouting at each other and turn to run in the opposite direction. Leon smiles, breaking into a sprint. He leaps, pinning one researcher to the ground with his body while his tail grabs the other by the waist, lifting him into the air.

“Where is she?!” Leon asks with a growl to the researcher he has pinned to the floor.

“Where’s who?!” the researcher stutters.

“Don’t play dumb with me! Where is she?!”

“Up-Upstairs! In Br-Bryan’s office!”

Leon’s mouth clamps down onto the researcher's neck, ripping out his throat as his tail squeezes the other until his spine snaps, falling to the floor as Leon lets him go. At that moment, all the lights dim before red emergency lights come on. Leon breaks back into a sprint to the elevator however, it was not working no matter how many buttons he pushed. He uses his tale to rip a hole into the ceiling, leaping up into it and climbing the elevator shaft.

Once he reaches the top, he pries the elevator door open, swinging down, landing gracefully in the hallway. People are scrambling to get away from him, bumping and tripping over each other to run down the hallway. Leon’s red eyes scan the area, however, he sees no sign of you. More guards with guns show up, firing at him. His tale whips forward, deflecting their bullets with ease as he lunges forward. He impales one operative with his tail while his hand thrusts through the chest of another, gripping the man’s still beating heart in his claws before crushing it.

“Take her and get out of here!” he hears a man yell from down the hallway.

Leon’s attention is immediately drawn to the man that yelled, immediately recognizing him as Bryan. At one time, he liked the man, a brilliant scientist. Too bad he has to die. Leon watches as Bryan pulls out a pistol, firing shots at him. Again. Leon’s tail and back claws deflect the shots as he stands face to face with Bryan, his tail whipping around and decapitating the man with ease. He brings his tail’s blade to his lips, licking off the blood as he proceeds to walk down the hallway towards the entrance of HQ.

A researcher is leading you out the front door, shoving you through the door with his back turned to Leon. He’s about to head out himself before Leon’s tail goes straight through his chest. Leon hears the man’s death gurgles as he flings him behind him, his body falling about 20 feet away with a loud thud.

And there you are, cowering in the entry vestibule, your eyes locked on him, looking up and down his body. Leon straightens out his posture in hopes of making himself alluring to you, his tail whipping back and forth while his back claws flex.

“Do you actually think you can escape me?” Leon coos, watching as you press your back as hard as you can into the glass doors as he comes closer.

“You never will, my love.” he continues with a grin, licking his sharp canines.

You stumble out of the door, bolting into the street and running as fast as you can to your car.

“I will find you.”

Part 3

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy #plagas!leon kennedy #plagas!leon kennedy x reader #gigabyte writes #insatiable

3K notes · View notes

hwaitham · 8 months

Text

𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𓈒 ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚 al haitham x sub!f!reader. nsfw — mdni. established relationship ﾉ period sex ﾉ daddy kink ﾉ sweetheart + princess + baby as petnames ﾉ lotsa praise n' haithie is vry doting :3 dis is a rewrite ﾉ repost from my old blog ! any interactions are super loved n' appreciated (∩ˊᵕˋ∩ ྀི)

you think the way al haitham touches you so tenderly and so cautiously—like your skin is as fragile as the petals of the padisarahs he picks for you, like you’re some prey animal with your innocent fawn eyes and twitchy bunny nose—is enough to make you weep.

and, oh, it is; and, yes, you realize you’re prone to tearful outbursts, but when he caresses you like this, with his thumb sowing slick hearts over your clit and his lips hot on the swell of your breast and his leaky cockhead webbed with red as it works your little cunt apart, when he slathers all his love for you—unadulterated, pure—over your spine, how can you expect yourself to not cry?

“crying already, sweetheart?” your lover's lips curve up into a soft smile when you choke on a sob as you nuzzle your cheek over his, a warm pool of crystalline pressing into his skin and drivelling down his jaw. he pulls away to coo at you sweetly, thumbing at the dew of your lashes as he watches on in awe of your emotional frailty. "delicate little thing, aren't you?"

he shuffles around on his forearms into a more comfortable position on top of you, elbows digging into the mattress as he cradles your face within his palms.

jaded cerulean gazes between your eyes, and then your lips, and then he’s kissing you slowly—exploring the concavities of your mouth with his tongue, stealing tiny mewls and the other pretty noises you make in an attempt to distract you from the painful contractions in your tummy.

and when he begins to stretch you open with his cockhead, easing his way in and moulding your puffy walls to his girth, the ache of your cramps dissipate into barely-there pinpricks, the pleasure candied by slow swirls of his hips into your g-spot and his thumb digging into your puffy nub. al haitham’s ministrations coax a sore sob from your throat, your ankles unlocking around his waist in favour of lightly tapping your toes against the bottom of his back because it feels like heaven.

“feels like heaven, hm?” he muses and cocks a brow, drinking up the dreamy glaze over your pupils and the sinful pout of your lips and the adorable twitch of your nose.

“uh huh, feels s’good, daddy,” your voice comes out a pitchy sigh as you cling to him, dainty fingers dipping into his clavicles and the arch of your back deepening when he continues to grind into your sensitive spots with care, lewd squelches of blood and slick making your entire body swell with heat. and you can’t help but be the slightest bit embarrassed by it all, by the mess you make over the towels he’s laid under you and the sticky red that clings to his pubes and the needy aches of your heart because you just yearn for him terribly, curving your body up into his and grappling lazily at the tufts of silver that curl just around the nape of his neck. “you take such g-good care of me…”

the cute sniffles and stuffiness of your voice as you hiccup over your words pull a guttural groan of a curse from him, his head tossed back and cock throbbing painfully as more webs of glistening blood drip and ooze and coat his length, materializing as a creamy ring around the base when it mixes with his pre.

as if to punctuate your words with actions, he leans down to kiss over the hot plane of your chest, running his tongue along a pert nipple, shushing your whimpers sweetly while he pushes his cock deep, deep, deep—all the way until his leaky tip is greeted by the soft sponge of your cervix.

“fuck—well, that’s my job, isn’t it? sweet girl like you deserves all the care in the world.”

honeyed words slip out of your right ear just as they enter your left, and you can all but helplessly tug him closer to your chest with limp limbs—clingy and desperate to feel every inch of his body against yours. he swallows your mewls with soft kisses as he fucks your womb and grinds into your clit, the mingled pleasure and pain coaxing drip after drip of thick red from each clamp of your pussy that seems to get increasingly tighter.

"a-awh, s'okay, 'm not going anywhere, baby." his voice is a gentle croon, sweet and encouraging and the edges to his words are the slightest bit teasing. it makes you whimper—realizing how lucky you are to be able to experience al haitham like this; soft and doting and deeply in love.

with his low groans against the hot shell of your ear, his palms wet over the small of your waist and his cock plunging into you as far as it can go, the bubble that grows in the pit of your tummy finally pops, and you cum—tiny, slurred mewls of daddydaddydaddy buried into his chest and your toes curled and, oh, al haitham thinks it’s so cute how your arms lock around his neck to hold him close, overstimulated as your hips jerk and body jostles helplessly with each rock of his hips, yet still hungry for more, more of him.

“daddy, p-please—” you choke on a whimper, horribly in love with your daddy and blissed out from your orgasm and all that—drunk on his cock taking up every inch of space in your twitchy cunt and dripping hot pre into your womb.

he continues to thrust into you languidly and rub stars and hearts, spell out his name over your clit, his fingers stained as red as the base of his cock. there is no urgency to his movements, no rush to wash over your slow tides of pleasure—he’ll drag it out for as long as he needs to, as he wants to; what’s losing a couple of hours of his workday in favour of tending to the owner of his glowing heart?

“s’okay, princess; daddy’s gonna take all the pain away.”

#𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻 ⑅˚˖ ݁ ˓ ෆ #al haitham smut #al haitham x reader #alhaitham smut #alhaitham x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham thirst #genshin thirsts #al-haitham smut #al-haitham x reader #tw period sex #tw daddy kink #haitham ❤︎

1K notes · View notes

buckys-wintersoldier · 5 months

Text

Silent Treatment | Andy Barber

Pairing -> Husband!Andy Barber x Wife!Reader

Summary -> After a fight with Andy almost a week ago and you ignore and avoid him as much as possible. Then he makes sure you understand that he loves you and that he wants you to listen when he says something.

Warnings -> (E) Minors DNI, 18+, smut, pinning against the wall, dry humping, thigh riding, daddy kink, kinda Dom!Andy, sub!Reader, fingering (fem!receiving), oral (male!receiving), deep throat, unprotected p in v, using of the word slut, kinda dirty talk, praises,

Wordcount -> 2k.

Request -> I had a request if you would be able to write it, where the reader gives Andy the silent treatment and it lasts all week or something and ends with some hot spicy smut 🌶️❤️🥺 craving some hot Andy!! Unless you’ve already have something written… ✨

A/N -> Thank you so much for that request, anon. It makes me feel things I didn’t know I feel for him but you show me with that request haha. The idea is such a good one and I hope you like what I came up with. My request are open, so if you have an ask don’t hesitate to ask.

Masterlist | Andy Barber Masterlist

It’s been a week since the argument with your husband, Andy, but you haven’t talked or interacted a lot with him. Whenever he tried to say something, you interrupted him with anger in your voice. Actually, you’re not that stubborn, but you’re mad, and you want to show him exactly that.

You miss his touch, but you can’t bring yourself to talk to him or let him touch you more than possible. His arms around your waist at night or his kisses along your neck when the two of you sit on the couch. But you’re still mad at him, right? Or do you just want to provoke him and hide it behind anger?

Andy tries to touch you or at least kiss you, but whenever you turn away, he groans. He slowly gets impatient and thinks about a way you can’t say no to him anymore. And your teasing is a good reason for him to tease you as well, but in a more pleasurable way than you do to him.

You’re in the kitchen. You make some lunch for the two of you. You can hear his footsteps behind you before his arms are wrapped around your waist. Andy presses your back against his muscular front. You try to wiggle yourself out of his arms, but he is stronger than you and holds you in place.

“Andy,” you mumble, but he tightens his grip around you.

His fingers dig into your soft skin, and you groan softly. Andy chuckles and lowers his head to place it on your shoulder. Kissing and biting your neck.

“Honey, stop ignoring me,” he groans into your ear.

“I’m not ignoring y-“ you try to say, but you interrupt yourself when Andy turns you around and pushes your back against the kitchen counter.

“You’re not?” he asks, his eyes immediately dark when you shake your head.

His hands are trailing your sides up and down. With one movement, he turns the two of you around and presses you against the wall on the other side of the small room. You gasp when your back touches the hard wall. Andy smiles and takes your hand into his, pressing them above your head against the wall.

“Andy-“ you whimper, pushing your waist against him.

He doesn’t say anything; his thigh parts your legs apart, and he presses it between your legs. You throw your head back when you feel the slight friction. You move on his thigh and feel your arousal dripping out of you, soaking your pants.

“Stop acting like a slut,” he hisses.

You try to stop your movements and do what he tells you, but the pleasure feels too good. His one hand holds your hands still above your head while the other trails down until he reaches your face and grips your chin harshly.

“Stop moving.” His tone is demanding, and you obey; you don’t want to make him mad.

“Andy, please,” you whimper, but he shakes his head.

“You ignored me for almost a week, and now it’s on me how fast or slow you get the pleasure you want,” Andy groans.

You roll your eyes playfully and pretend to move on his thigh again, but Andy takes his knee away and chuckles darkly. His hand around your chin slides along your body until he reaches your covered pussy.

“Desperate, so desperate,” he mumbles when you push your body against his hand.

Andy chuckles and captures your pussy with his hand. You moan softly and look at him with an already fucked-out look. He moves his fingers against the fabric and draws small circles on them, making you whine.

“Andy, please,” you beg, but he just laughs and lets go of you.

“That’s wrong, honey. Say it right,” he demands, and you want to groan in frustration, but his look at you stops you immediately. There is not that much fun or frustration allowed, not yet, with your horny husband in front of you.

“Daddy, please. I need you,” you whine and press yourself more against him.

“Where do you need me to touch you, honey?”

“Down there.”

Andy chuckles darkly when those words leave your lips as a whimper. He knows exactly what you want, and he will give it to you, but not yet. First, he wants you on your knees like a good girl and sucking his dick as an apology for ignoring him.

“You think it’s that easy to get what you want after ignoring you?” he asks, and you nod. Maybe he wants you to say yes, and then he finally fucks you, but he just shakes his head. “You will beg, and you will obey,” Andy whispers, and you moan softly.

Your husband lays one of his hands on your head and grips your hair harshly, pressing you down until you’re on your knees. He smiles at you and pulls your face closer to his dick. Your nose almost touches the bulge in his pants.

“Open them and pull them down,” he commands, and you do.

With your hands, you open his belt and pull his pants down. His boxers cover his dick. You don’t hesitate before you let his boxers slide down his legs, and his length springs free. It slaps against his stomach, the tip already leaking with pre-cum.

“Open your mouth, baby girl. And suck it, give Daddy a reason to give you your reward,” Andy groans and pushes your head further to his dick.

You open your mouth and take one of your hands around his dick. Andy looks with pure lust in his eyes at you and grins. You kiss the tip of his dick, moving your hand slowly up and down. Your husband groans and pushes his hips in your direction, his cock pushing against your mouth.

He guides his dick deep into your mouth and down your throat. A groan leaves his lips when you almost gag around his length. Your hands rest on his thighs while he slowly pulls out of your mouth. His tip is still in your mouth, and you can still taste him.

"It's so pretty when you look like an innocent little girl, but you’re actually a little slut for my dick. My little cock slut, aren’t you?” he asks.

Before you can answer, he pushes his hips forward and pulls your head closer by your hair. His cock is sliding down your throat again. The tears burn in your eyes when he hits a spot in your throat that you didn’t know he could reach. His grip on your hair tightens while he waits a moment before he pulls it out of your mouth again. The creams that leave his mouth make you almost go crazy.

“Swallow,” he says sternly.

Andy doesn’t hesitate to push into your mouth again, ignoring your gagging around him. You both know that as long as you don’t use your safe word or slap him two times on his thigh, he can do this. You talked a lot before you changed from vanilla to some kinky activities in bed.

When you control your breathing again, you swallow and make Andy moan loudly. He adores the feeling of your throat feeling even tighter when you swallow. The warmth of your mouth, your tongue gliding along his shaft, and the tight feeling around his huge dick.

Your husband's dick is twitching in your mouth, and you know he is close. You move your head a bit, but Andy stops you with his grip on your hair and lets his dick slide out of your mouth. You groan in frustration, getting a dark chuckle from Andy.

“Want me to cum in your mouth? Not only my cock slut, but also a little cum slut,” he laughs, gripping your chin with his free hand.

You still have the tears in your eyes, and a few are rolling down your cheeks. Andy shows you, with some pressure under your chin, to stand up. Your legs are shaking, and you wrap your arms around his muscular arms to hold you. Andy lets go of your hair and holds you by your waist.

“I want to fuck you against the wall; I can’t wait to push my dick so deep into your wet and tight hole, honey,” he groans, stroking your cheek softly. “You did so well for me when you sucked my dick; now be a good girl and let Daddy fuck you right here and right now,” Andy mumbles, and you nod.

You hear the sound of your clothes tearing up while he smiles at you. The cold air blows against your wet folds, and you shiver slightly. Andy’s hand is wrapped around his cock, the tip sliding through your folds, and you place your hands on his shoulder, pulling him closer.

Andy pushes him slowly inside of you. Your walls clench around him while he pushes himself deeper inside of you. A moan escapes your lips, and you throw your head back when he finally meets your sweet spot.

“Andy, please,” you whimper, digging your nails into his skin.

“Try again, honey.”

“Daddy, please. Move, making me cum.”

Your husband chuckles and pulls almost completely out of you before he pushes his dick inside of you again. Your fingers are scratching over his skin, and you are probably leaving bruises there, but neither you nor Andy care about it.

“Faster, please,” you whimper.

Andy leans closer; you feel his breath against your ear and his groans when he pounds into you.

“You really think you can tell me what to do, honey?”

You shake your head but press your hips closer, so he pushes in another angle inside of you. His tip hits your sweet spot again, and you clench around him. Andy kisses along your neck, biting softly into the skin, before he lets go of you and looks into your eyes. His hands are holding your waist.

“You want me to be rough; I’ll be rough,” he says with a grin.

With your head leaning against the wall, you let your husband fuck you against it. Your skin is sweaty, and you try to ground yourself with your fingers on his back. His movements become sloppy, and you feel his thick cock twitching between your clenching walls.

“So tight for me. But you take me so well, honey,” he praises, and you smile softly.

Andy slides one of his hands between your legs and draws circles on your clit. His fingers slide through your folds before he plays with your clit again. You moan, your hips pushing further against him, and when he hits your sweet spot a few more times, you almost scream while the orgasm rushes through your body.

“Squeezing me so well,” Andy groans, pounding into you.

Your eyes roll back, and you feel his dick twitching between your walls. Your tight walls clench with every thrust more around his length, and it doesn’t take long for him to fill you with his cum. Andy groans and lets his head fall against your shoulder. His breath is heavy, but he still moves slowly into you.

“I’m not pulling out of you,” he mumbles, holding your waist to lift you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, and he walks with you in his arms out of the kitchen.

“The food,” you say and point to the desk, but he just chuckles.

“You can have something else, but first we take a shower.

You groan playfully, knowing that he talks about more sex later. Andy carries you into the bathroom before he finally lets you down and presses his lips on yours.

“Don’t ignore me again, or I won’t be so soft,” Andy mumbles against your lips, and you nod. His cum drips out of you while he prepares everything for a warm bath together. “I love you, honey.”

“I love you too, Andy. But next time, just fuck me a few days earlier, then I don’t have to ignore you for so long,” you joke around, and he raises his eyebrows with a smirk at you.

658 notes · View notes

misserabella · 1 year

Note

would u be able to write like another enemies to lovers ellie williams fic?? or like a part two to just pretend bc i loved that sm 🙌🙌

a/n; of course i will honey

jealousy, jealousy

ellie williams x fem! reader

enemies to lovers!

pt2!!

summary; ellie and you hated each other, until the bottle chooses you and she can’t take it anymore. the game has started, and she’ll leave the pieces for you to make the next move.

cw; mean! ellie (but like really mean), mean! reader, fighting, blood, knifes and weapons, alcohol, drinking, drug mentions and usage (weed), jealousy, possessiveness, public sexual actions (they don’t get caught), making out, choking, hair pulling, kissing, hickeys, fingering, cum eating, teasing, degradation and praise, edging (??)… +18 CONTENT, MINORS DON’T INTERACT OR I’LL HUNT YOU DOWN!

REMINDER: english is not my mother language so i apologize if there are some mistakes <3 !¡ either ways, i hope y’all like it. <3

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<3

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

you and ellie didn’t get along. she was rude, always bickering and punching the words out of your guts with her hurtful snaps.

you two couldn’t spend more than a minute together before you’d wish you could choke her with your own hands. she was infuriating.

but who could’ve thought that the day in which you’d need her would come? in which you would pull her close to never let go?

it was funny really, how a little game could change everything.

ellie’s little remarks, ellie rolling her eyes when you’d hunted a bigger deer than her, ellie making you trip on the snow and then laughing at you when you fell head first, snow covering your whole face…

she was a bitch, really. always picking at something. you hadn’t hit the bulls eye of the target while training shooting? she’d laugh and show you how good her aim could be.

“why don’t you do it with your eyes closed then, hm? since you’re so good at it.”

“that’s such a nice idea, then i won’t have to stare at your face anymore!” she smirked, before putting a hand over her eyes and aiming. you scoffed when she perfectly hit the heart.

“yeah sure, i can do that too if i peek through my fingers…” you said, and she laughed.

“are you sure about that?” she arched her eyebrows, nodding at your failed shots.

“fuck you.” you spat, and she smirked.

“you wish.” she whispered.

she would win at a drinking game in jesse’s party? you wouldn’t have the end of it.

“woah, careful princess, try not to fall for me.” she mocked you when she watched you slightly trip.

“call me princess one more time and i’ll fucking choke you.” you threatened and she smirked.

“kinky… i like it.” she winked, and you’d throw her your drink, making her emerald eyes widen as she dodged it the best she could, still getting some on her jeans.

“getting wet for me so easy, williams?” that would be your moment to mock her. and she’d scoff.

“at least i’m not the one dripping.”

and before you knew it, you’d be shivering on your way back home, fully drenched on alcohol. let’s say she ended up the same way.

your fights were so normal that your friends had started to ignore them.

“oh sure, as if i didn’t kick your ass this morning…” you rolled your eyes, taking a hit of your blunt.

“you really think you won? i slipped due to the snow.” she smirked, and you scoffed.

“sure, williams, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“you surely don’t. you have me getting nightmares about your face, waking up drenched in sweat.” she mocked you, and you rose your eyebrows.

“drenched in sweat, sure… you sure about that?” you teased her, taking a peek to her thighs and she hissed. “hey, i’m not the one dreaming about me. but who could blame you. the thing i wanna know is…, do you touch yourself thinking about me too?” her whole face turned red in anger—and maybe something else—, and jesse certainly had to get into it to try and calm the two of you down before you could throw hands at each other.

of course, sometimes that would be impossible to achieve —mostly while you were training combat with Maria—, and the two of you would end up returning home with a brown lip or new bruises.

“one word and i’ll kill you.” ellie would mutter as joel wouldn’t stop staring at her, a smirk on his lips.

“she really has a good right hook.” he’d say before disappearing, and ellie would groan.

but lately things had changed, and ellie had become meaner, rougher… her words were more hurtful, and she definitely was ignoring you more. she seemed on edge lately, jaw always gritted and hands fisted.

“move.” you stopped talking to jack when her voice came from your right. the cafeteria was busy, busting with people from town to get something to eat, and you were catching up with one of your friends, with who you’d grown really close the last couple of weeks.

your eyes found ellie’s and you frowned.

“i said fucking move.” she pushed you away, harshly to make her way in between the two of you, her trolley in between her hands. you were supposedly ‘in the way’ to her spot.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked her, anger in your voice.

“for starters, the mere fact that you’re still breathing.” you scoffed, and in a quick swift of your hand you took your knife, sending it flying across the room and towards her. she was quick enough to dodge it, and the silence filled the cafeteria when the knife harshly dug itself on the wood of the wall on her back.

she was always quick, but this time you had been quicker, and the cut on her cheek was the proof. one of her hands came up to it and swiped away the blood dribbling from it, staining her fingertips in crimson.

“do that again and i’ll fucking kill you.” she threatened.

“i’d like to see you try.” you said, and she was ready to jump, but joel was quick to get in the middle of it.

“ellie.” he said, and she looked at him, harshly dropping her food tray onto one of the tables to pass by him, completely ignoring him and towards the door. but of course, you received a hard bump on your shoulder before she disappeared.

tonight was no different.

the alcohol was bitter and burned her throat, and the blunt on her hand was dying off way too quickly for her taste. the music was loud, and jesse’s house was filled with people dancing and drinking.

it was summer, and jesse had promised a good party. who would say no on their right mind?

you couldn’t, either.

you were laughing, sharing a blunt with dina on the sofa in front of her, cheeks flushed in pink and hazy eyes. jesse was talking to her, but she wasn’t really paying attention, not anymore. he had been talking for 30 fucking minutes and she was done.

suddenly, somebody hummed and smirked. “why don’t we… play the bottle?” people groaned, other laughed and cheered.

ellie huffed. “what are we, fucking thirteen?”

it was a stupid game, so stupid that in less than five minutes a large group of people was sitting on the floor in a circle, a bottle sitting in the middle. and of course, dina had dragged you into it. jesse had done the same with ellie, even though he had feared that she would choke him in any moment. she almost did.

you were having fun, ‘cause the game was so stupid that it was actually funny, and dina was only making it funnier with how drunk and high she was.

the whole crowd let out screams of excitement and cheers when the bottle landed on you. you rolled your eyes when dina shook you, excited, even more when it landed on jack. he was laughing, amused. you two were shaking your heads, you were friends, you didn’t look at the other that way. but people were eager, trying to get what they wanted.

ellie’s blood was boiling. you were blushing. you were fucking blushing. blushing for that douchebag who probably wouldn’t know how to treat you good, how you deserved.

the next thing she did? she would blame it on the alcohol, and probably the weed.

the crowd fell silent as she suddenly stood up, and your eyes widened when she stomped towards you, taking your hand in a harsh grip that wasn’t enough to hurt you, but enough to make you stand up as she dragged you away from the group and out the house. the summer breeze hit you, and you stopped her tracks by freeing yourself from her grip.

“what the fuck?” you asked her, and she turned around to face you, her emerald eyes looked angry, and her jaw was clenched. “what’s wrong with you?!”

“what’s wrong with me? what’s wrong with you!” she screamed and you scoffed. “you were going to kiss that asshole!”

“i was not!” you yell back. “and even if i were, why would that matter!?”

“it matters. he probably doesn’t even know how to french kiss!”

“oh, and you do?!”

“yes! i do actually!”

“yeah, of course you do…” you scoffed, and she arched her eyebrows.

“what? need me to show you?” before you knew it, you had been cornered against the house’s wall, her breath hitting your face. a shiver went down your spine at her harsh tone. “tell me. would that shut you the fuck up?” she inquired, and you looked at her with hatred.

“try me.”

she looked at you, emerald eyes shining in the dark, and in a harsh tug of your shirt’s collar, she was smashing her lips against yours. you grunted in pain when she harshly pushed you against the wall, your hands finding her hair to tug, making her groan. one of her legs pushed in between your own and up, making you grind down on her, her right hand keeping you in place by surrounding your neck.

it was dizzying, the feeling of her lips, and her body heat, the roughness of her touch and her tongue pushing inside your mouth. she tasted like weed and alcohol, and you found yourself getting addicted to the mix.

you opened your mouth for her, leaned on her touch, pulled her closer. you moaned when one of her hands cupped your tit, harshly gripping it and pinching your nipples, which could be seen through your white tank top.

“fuck ellie…” you sighed, her lips now on your neck, sucking to leave marks that you were too gone to care about. you couldn’t understand. why she was kissing you. why you were kissing back. but did it really matter when it felt this good?

“what? you thought he would make you feel this way? that he’ll kiss you like i do? touch you like i do?” her thigh pushed up to your core, making your clit catch with the seam of your shorts. “you bitch. you’re supposed to be mine, you’re supposed to have nothing more but me in your mind.” she growled, and you gasped for air when she pulled from you so you could ground down on her thigh.

anyone could come out looking for you two and find ellie unbuttoning your pants, her hand slowly pushing into them and under your underwear. your back arched and your lips parted in a moan when her fingers dipped in your folds, she moaned as well when she felt just how wet you were, and just for her.

“teasing me about getting wet for you when you’re the one dripping under my fingers, hm?” she mocked you, and you gasped.

“fuck you.”

“i’m already at it.” she smirked, a whimper ripping your throat when her fingers found your clit, but you muffled it by biting down on your lip. “atta girl. nice and quiet. just how i like it.” you moaned, her voice sending shivers down your spine. “let me help with that.” she said, leaning in to kiss you. it was sloppy, and dirty. she kissed you as if you were hers to take, as if your cunt was hers to fuck. her fingers were thick stretching your pussy. she hummed. “so fucking tight.” you couldn’t stop moaning and letting out little pleased sounds that had her dripping on her underwear. “that feels good, hm? i bet it does. look at you, you’re dribbling baby.” she mocked you, her thumb cleaning the corner of your mouth and your spit. your eyes rolled to the back of your head when she curled them, hitting your g spot. you wanted to scream. ‘cause it felt so fucking good you were melting. “that’s it. that’s the spot, huh? look at you. getting all dumb and fucked out on my fingers. been wanting to have you like this since the first fucking day, shit. been wanting to fuck the attitude of yours out of you for months.” you moaned.

“ellie, fuck, please…” you whimpered, eyes trickling with tears. you were so close it was almost embarrassing, how fast and easy she had pulled you to the edge, how fast your orgasm was approaching. she could feel it. feel the way your walls were tightening and your thighs had started to shake. she could see the way your breathing had become more ragged and you couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“you gonna cum, pretty girl? gonna cum for me?” you nodded, whining, teetering the edge. “go ahead baby, soak my fingers.” and with that you were falling apart, gushing around her fingers just like she had asked, moaning her name and being muffled by her lips. you couldn’t follow the kiss, too drunk on the pleasure. she helped you rode it out, kissing you messily, pumping her finger in and out of your drooling cunt.

your knees wobbled, and she pulled out her fingers to suck them clean. you moaned at the sight, eyes glassy and rosy cheeks. she looked at you, and her heart stopped. ‘cause you looked like a fucking mess, but you looked so fucking hot that her pussy was aching for attention.

but she couldn’t. she wouldn’t. ‘cause she had to make a point. and now that she had, she just needed to wait.

you leaned in to kiss her, hand tugging on his auburn hair, but she pushed against it, making you whine and later gasp when her hand held your throat to keep you in place.

“ellie… please…” you begged, in need of more. in need of her.

and she smirked.

“you poor thing.” she mocked you, getting away from you. “if you so badly need to be fucked… jack is inside.” she spat, and before you could say anything, she was walking away, leaving you there on the porch of the house in the middle of the fucking night, with ringing ears and wobbly legs… and as much as you hated to admit it… aching for more.

a/n; pt.2? 👀

ellie williams masterlist! <3

xxx

#ellie williams x f! reader #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams imagine #tlou2 #tlou fanfiction #tlou x reader #tlou imagine #tlou smut #tlou fic #tlou #ellie the last of us #the last of us #dan! writes ♱

3K notes · View notes

cordeliaeli · 4 months

Text

So, this is totally possibly hypothetical but I figured if there was someone to talk to about it, it'd be you. Would you say real estate has been a fulfilling part of your life? I get you have the whole business and law side to things but I'm ... curious. @rafaelcb

#✧ * º • — words dripping like honey ⎧interactions.⎫#✧ * º • — filling up the empty space ⎧rafael.⎫#hope it's okay i started something for them?#<333

9 notes · View notes

hcerin · 10 months

Text

♡ ◞ location ... 'thirsty' launch party ♡ ◞ timestamp ... 8:10 p.m. ♡ ◞ featuring ... bambi lennox ( @lilacrespite )

this was supposed to be a momentous day for her — rina had just released a new single! she had been working on the song for months; and after sleepless nights and days that seemed to never end, her record label had finally decided on a release date. she should be celebrating. instead, she found herself in a secluded corner, hidden away from PRYING EYES. she couldn't believe that she had managed to slip away from everyone somehow. in attendance was every friend and anyone who has ever supported her. they were here to congratulate rina, they had given her presents to compliment her latest achievement. however, when her eyes scanned the crowd, all she could see was the one person that couldn't be there. rina honestly didn't mean to run away; but as soon as she felt the lump in her throat, she was determined to not let anyone see her cry. she thought she had kept her weeping as quiet as possible, so when she heard footsteps getting louder, she cursed under her breath. quickly wiping her tears, she looked up to give the approacher a sorrowful smile. ❝ you've found me. ❞

#‹ interactions › — ❝ words dripping like honey. ❞#‹ featuring › — ❝ bambi lennox. ❞#I HOPE THIS IS OKAY #u dont have to match the length!! i was just setting the scene

3 notes · View notes

notsosweetchan · 5 days

Text

Warning: Smut (Minors Do Not Interact)

Paring - Jisung x Reader -

-So Good

Link:

Jisung moaned louder as Y/N began to jerk him off faster, her hand gripping him tightly, her long, slender fingers sliding up and down his shaft. The hot, slick sensation against his skin sent shivers of pleasure coursing through his body, making his toes curl and his heart race in anticipation.

The feeling of her hand moving so smoothly on his cock was almost too much for him to handle, yet at the same time, it was driving him wild with desire. He arched his back slightly, pushing his hips forward into her grip. His breath hitched in his throat as she continued her sensual ministrations.

"You're such a slut," she purred between kisses on his neck, finding a particularly sensitive spot that sent electric shocks through his entire being. Her breath was warm against his skin, making it tingle and stand on end. "You love it when I do this to you, don't you?"

She whispered huskily before taking one of his nipples between her teeth and lightly biting down on it. A groan escaped from deep within him as he threw his head back in ecstasy. Yes, God, I-I do," he panted, unable to form complete sentences anymore.

His world narrowed down to the exquisite touch of her warm, soft lips on his body and the incredible grip she had on his cock. "Please, don't stop," he begged, not caring how desperate he sounded. All he knew was that he needed more of this—needed her—like he needed oxygen.

Y/N smirked against his skin as she felt his body tremble beneath her ministrations. She loved the way her touch drove him insane, how she could reduce him to a whimpering mess with just a few strokes of her hand and teasing nips of her lips. It filled her with a heady sense of power and satisfaction that never got old.

“Tell me what you want, Jisung, she purred, her voice dripping with desire and control. Tell me how much you want me to make you cum.”

His breathing became ragged and uneven as he panted, trying to form a coherent sentence. "I-I want you," he gasped out, his eyes squeezing shut in pleasure.

"Want you to make me cum so bad," he moaned, his hips bucking involuntarily against her hand. He was so close, his balls aching with the need for release. All he needed was just a little more pressure, a little more friction, and he'd be gone.

Y/N chuckled softly, the vibrations against his skin sending shivers down his spine. "That's it, baby," she cooed, picking up her pace and twisting her wrist slightly on the upstroke. "Tell me how much you need it."

Jisung's eyes flew open, meeting hers as she looked up at him through hooded lashes, her doe-like eyes smoldering with lust and desire that matched her words.

"I-I need it so bad," he groaned, biting his bottom lip to stifle a moan that threatened to escape his lips. "Please Y/N..." hewhimpered, his pride casting aside in the face of the overwhelming pleasure she was bringing him.

Smirking victoriously, Y/N increased her pace even more, her talented hand pumping him relentlessly as she scraped her nails lightly down his chest.

"That's it, baby," she crooned, her voice like honey laced with arsenic. "Cum for me, Jisung. Cum all over my hand."

That was all it took to send him over the edge. With a strangled cry, Jisung came undone in her hand, his eyes squeezing shut and his entire body tensing up as wave after wave of bliss coursed through him.

White-hot pleasure streaked through his veins as he spurted his release onto his stomach, groaning her name like a prayer on his lips.

His breathing was ragged and uneven as she continued to stroke him through his orgasm, prolonging the pleasure until he whimpered with sensitivity.

Finally spent, he collapsed back against the couch, panting and sweaty, completely spent but satisfied in a way only Y/N could ever make him feel

Y/N smirked smugly as she licked her fingers clean, savoring the salty, musky taste of his release. "So good," she purred before leaning in to plant a messy kiss on his lips.

207 notes · View notes

venus-haze · 7 months

Text

Watch Honey Drip, Can't Keep Away (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: America’s golden son can't keep his eyes off of you, almost like he wants to devour you whole...or something like that.

Note: Female reader, but no descriptors are used. This is kind of in the same universe as She’s Out To Please, She Pouts Her Best. I know generally men in the ‘40s, let alone Soldier Boy of all people, wouldn’t really consider going down on a woman, but it’s my fic and I get to decide he eats out. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Period typical misogyny, power imbalance. Explicit sexual content involving masturbation and oral sex (f. receiving). Do not interact if you’re under 18.

“Which city are we going to next?” you asked, finally comfortable in the swanky hotel room in Chicago you were roomed in with three other girls from the troupe. Soldier Boy’s Sparkling Sweethearts. People came from miles around to show their patriotism–and get a look-see at the acts. If it weren’t Soldier Boy, it was you and the other Sweethearts. Something for everyone, really. Even in places like–

“Wichita.”

A collective groan filled the space, littered with makeup and dresses that’d inevitably shoved into suitcases in a hurry the moment of checkout. There were more important things to worry about than being organized.

“Better than wherever the hell we were last week. Couldn’t get enough of us on Saturday, and then nearly ran us out with pitchforks after the preacher was through with them Sunday morning.”

“I’m going down to the bar while we’re still in a hotel that has one,” you said. “I’ll be back later.”

“Not if Soldier Boy’s there.” A giggle tore through the room. “Did you see him earlier? He looked like he could eat you alive.”

You weren’t even supposed to have been up there with Soldier Boy during his act, a routine that showed off his powers and preceded his usual rousing speech to get the American public to open their hearts and wallets to the war bonds drive. But Darla had broken her leg while ice skating on a day off in Milwaukee, and Soldier Boy had specifically asked for you to fill her spot.

Your role involved memorizing a few lines from a script and looking pretty while Soldier Boy understandably took the lead, but your “rehearsal” just hours before was little more than going through your lines once before Soldier Boy poured you a shot to “calm your nerves” and spent the following fifteen minutes fucking your mouth before sending you off to get ready for the show.

Walking up on that stage again after your usual routine with the Sparkling Sweethearts was nerve-wracking. Though you knew what to expect, you still felt like your heart was going to pop out of your chest every time he lifted you above his head or tossed you up in the air and caught you, to the raucous applause and cheers of the Chicagoans and celebrities who’d packed the theater to see him.

“Betty Grable’s in town, so I think she’s the main course,” you said as you left, closing the door behind you and leaving your coworkers to tease you in private.

Among the various hobbies you’d taken up since becoming a Sparkling Sweetheart, people-watching in hotel bars was one of your favorites. He would almost always be there too, an otherworldly presence with an abundance of movers and shakers rotating in his orbit, unable to resist the pull of America’s golden son.

Some of the girls in the troupe didn’t care for him, found him too brash and handsy. You could think of at least one who’d been unceremoniously replaced after loudly complaining one too many times. No one really knew what the extent of his powers were, but after that incident, you suspected enhanced hearing might be among them. Or someone was just a snitch.

When you stepped into the bar, a quick scan of the room revealed Betty Grable to be nowhere in sight. You didn’t see Soldier Boy either, until a deep voice wrapped around you like velvet.

“There’s my girl.”

“Who, me?” you asked teasingly.

“‘Course you are, honey.”

“Because I heard Betty Grable’s in town—“

He scoffed. “That broad? Who needs her?”

Your chest filled with pride at his statement. She was the pin-up girl of choice for every GI in Europe and the Pacific. Well, almost all of them. His arm settled around your waist as he told the bartender to give you whatever you wanted. The overhead lights in the bar were nice and low, you felt warm beneath Soldier Boy’s gaze. Being the object of his attention always carried weight. He was the world’s first superhero, after all. A living legend. Plenty of other women he could be spending his time with besides you.

Pressing your lips to his cheek, you whispered a ‘thank you’ for the drink, taking in the way he licked his lips, his handsome face so close to yours, still under the slight cover of the shadows. Whoever decided a helmet that covered half of his face would be part of his costume needed serious help.

“Y’know, if you hadn’t come down here, I might’ve gone up to your room and dragged you out,” he said, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “It’s like you were shakin’ your ass just for me on that stage.”

“It’s called shimmying, and I’m glad you liked it.”

“I was thinking, how about you replace Darla for my act?”

“Permanently?”

“Sure, we’ve got great chemistry,” he said, squeezing your hip, “on and off stage.”

As the night progressed, your conversations with Soldier Boy were interrupted by the slew of people who recognized him, excitedly introducing themselves and asking for a few minutes of his time. He graciously accepted with a ‘You don’t mind, right honey?’ And you shook your head, watching him humor politicians, business moguls, and socialites.

You smiled when the latest one had made their departure, tilting your head the slightest bit. “Do you even remember what my name is?”

“Honey suits you better,” he said, his tongue darting out between his lips. “Bet you taste like it too.”

“You sure?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“I guess so.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, passing you his room key. “You go make yourself comfortable while I close out my tab.”

As if he’d even be paying for the drinks himself. It’d probably be billed to the Department of Defense, or that strange company that sponsored the tour. You didn’t pay much attention to who was signing your checks, just that they cashed out when you brought them to the bank.

You balked at his hotel room, far more space than a single man could possibly need. Then again, he rarely spent his nights alone.

Comfortable. Ridding yourself of your clothes, you climbed into the giant bed, pulling the covers just over your breasts. As you laid back on the plush pillows, you recalled earlier that day when he had swatted your ass as you walked off stage after your act with him was finished, playing it off as a joke to the crowd who cheered and whistled. The simple yet slightly painful gesture had gone straight through you, however, and you worried that there’d be a noticeable wet spot on your satin panties when you and the other Sparkling Sweethearts returned for one last routine to close out the show, your high kicks telling on you.

Biting your lip, you glanced at the door and slipped a hand between your legs. He had only said to make yourself comfortable, nothing specifically about waiting. Gently prodding two fingers against your pussy, you weren’t surprised to find that you were wet already. Your eyes fluttered shut as you pushed your fingers inside, thinking about how his hands felt on you earlier. Strong and steady, big hands that could break you so easily but didn’t.

“Couldn’t wait?” He stood at the end of the bed, fully clothed with his arms folded over his broad chest as he pinned you in place with his disapproving glare.

You gasped, pulling your hand from between your legs. “I was just–”

He clicked his tongue at you, though his eyes betrayed his amusement. “My fault for keeping you waiting too long, doll.”

Soldier Boy joined you on the bed, pulling back the covers you’d pulled over your bare body. He pressed his lips against yours, kissing you with an overwhelming fireceness as he groped your breasts, squeezing down your stomach to your hips and finally your thighs. His lips followed that same path, kissing and biting along your skin that suddenly felt feverish beneath his touch. Still, your pussy ached for him, especially since he had walked in while you were pleasuring yourself, but he wasn’t paying any mind to it.

Until he dipped his head down, licking your wet cunt. In your shock, you pushed your thighs together, as if his intrusion were unwelcome.

His strong hands held your legs apart, gently squeezing the tender flesh. “I jerked off thinking about this earlier, but nothin' like the real thing, huh?”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes focused on the ornate ceiling. Gold leafing, a Renaissance-esque painting, surely Soldier Boy didn’t care much about that.

“Eyes on me, honey. You got that?”

Immediately, you looked at him, his blazing green stare burning through you until you nodded. He wasted no time in burying his face between your legs, his tongue flicking against your clit with such force that you realized you had no idea what getting eaten out by a superhero would actually entail.

He lapped at your pussy with an insatiable fervor that made your legs shake beneath his steady grip. Your moan caught in your throat when he plunged his tongue deeper into you, his nose brushing that sensitive bundle of nerves he’d already teased.

A whine tore from your throat when he pulled away for a moment, smugly admiring your glistening sex. His lips appeared coated in your juices, and you nearly came at that sight alone.

“Fuck you’re soaked,” he growled appreciatively. “This all for me?”

Who else? As if any other man could make you feel pleasure so intensely, as if that were yet another superpower of his. For a moment you bemoaned a possible future of unsatisfying sex with some regular old Joe–not America’s hero, its fucking sex symbol. But all you could manage was a weak, “Yes.”

Satisfied with your response, he closed his plush lips over your clit, sucking on it like he was pulling from a cigarette, your arousal burning deep in his lungs. You grabbed at the sheets, digging your hands into them as you grind your pussy against his face. Your eyes fluttered shut for a split second, shooting open when he smacked your thigh. Eyes on me.

“Fuck—Soldier Boy,” you moaned. “‘m close.”

He growled against you, the vibrations from his throat edging you closer to orgasm. His inhuman stamina meant he hadn’t given you much of a break since he lowered his face between your thighs. He’d been content to tease you for a while, but he seemed more focused, intentional with the way he ate you out, his attention especially focused on your clit.

You could feel it, that tightness in your abdomen that was about to snap. Involuntarily, your eyes fluttered shut, and you were on that stage again, in his big arms, bright lights blaring as you stared dreamily at him. Then he threw you in the air, higher and higher until you came back down and–

“Soldier Boy, oh my god–don’t fucking stop,” you pleaded, riding out your orgasm on his face.

His hands held down your bucking hips, your ecstasy overpowered by his determination to bring you over the edge until you were an incoherent mess, muscles aching at the exertion of each orgasm despite him doing all of the work. Light-headed, seeing stars, you reached down, tugging at his hair. That was it. You were tapping out. Mercy.

He granted such, though he pressed sloppy kisses to your inner thighs, nipping at the tender skin. All you could give him was weak moans in return. If you expected to be able to go anywhere else the rest of the night, he’d made damn well sure you couldn’t so much as move from his bed. Maybe that was the idea.

Your breath caught in your throat when he lifted his head, wiping his glistening lips with the back of his hand, though the evidence of your orgasms was still all over the rest of his face. He kissed you, the foreign taste of yourself filling your mouth, sending a deliciously obscene rush through you. His mouth broke from yours, just for a moment, as he whispered your name against your lips. You realized you didn’t actually know his.

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy smut #soldier boy the boys #soldier boy imagine #the boys soldier boy #the boys x reader #the boys amazon #the boys tv #gen v #gen v amazon

595 notes · View notes

miradorafterdark · 19 days

Text

𝖊𝖉𝖌𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖏𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖞

Jake Kiszka X reader, Josh Kiszka X reader

word count; 3,186

warnings; 18+-minors do not interact. Oral sex; male receiving, degradation, begging, pleading, cockiness, unadulterated smut, domination, sub, dom/sub, controlling

“I dont wanna hear it, Lewis!” Josh growled into the phone. “All I wanna see tonight are signs with my name on them. Got it?!” You could faintly hear the line go dead, followed by Josh tossing his phone onto the vanity top. The older of the Kiszka twins, brown curly locks bouncing as he ambled into the room, flexed his hands into fists as he caught sight of where you stood near the crafts services table they’d conveniently placed in the green room whose door was right outside of the dressing rooms.

“How much did you hear, little bird?” He requested in a saccharine tone, honey dripping from his every word as he footed closer and closer.

“Enough to know you may be jealous of your little brother,” you said simply, a mandarin segment held between two fingers as you brought it to your lips. The juice dripped down your fingers as you pushed it into your mouth, smiling ruefully around it and perking your brows as the juices filled your mouth. Josh’s eyes widened, darkening as his pupils blew out, at your admission. Him? Jealous? He’d never admit to it.

“Jea-jealous?” He chuckled, his signature smile turning into almost a pout as his face went stoic. “Say it again and I’ll show exactly why I’m not jealous. I can have anyone I want in this venue, including you.” He pointed a slender finger at you, stepping closer still yet and tapping it against the center of your chest before dragging it up to your chin. “And you’d so willingly oblige, wouldn’t you birdie baby?” He captured your chin between his thumb and forefinger, his gaze softening as he bestowed you with a gentle half smile. You knew the look painted on his face all too well, always pulling it out when he was prepared to get what he wanted without care to the consequence. You could faintly hear Jake’s boots clambering down the hall. Tap, tap, tapping with every step closer he got and you knew the simple fact he were wearing them already meant that he’d already put himself into the black on black ensemble he wore for Miradors performance. Your eyes cut toward the door, expectantly waiting for him to appear when Josh sighed through his nose. A great huff of a noise, his patience already thin and thinning further as you contemplated pressing your luck.

“Looking for him to save you won’t help the cause, dove.”

“Jealous ass,” you muttered softly, encouraging him though you knew you ought not to. This was a road you’d walked with Josh many a time, Jake included. Whenever one found themselves jealous of the attention the other had been bathed in, they’d seek you out in silent revery. Competition between the pair had been at an all time high, the air thick with tension as Jake prepped his side band to open for his main band. Josh simply could not accept the fact the younger of the two had stolen his spotlight.

“I’m not jealous,” he again insisted, pressing himself to you as he titled his head. With his dark eyes hooded, his teeth baring down into his plush bottom lip, he let you revel in silence for a moment as the sound of Jake’s boots drug him closer yet.

“Seem it,” you finally sighed, half scared but incredibly excited at what may happen. You could only push Josh so far before he’d seek out the company of another. In those times you had found solace in his stark opposite, Jacob lavishing you with the gentle attention of a lover who knew your body with their eyes closed. It had been widely known amongst band and crew alike, though you were merely assistant to the tour manager you’d somehow become assistant to the twins as well. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately depending on how sour their moods turned, they’d found many a reason for you to assist them beyond real job duties. It had been like that for two tours now, either one seeking you out when they needed the reassurance that they were the star. They were just as important as the other. And when one seemed to steal all of the attention, it became a game between them to see which one had yours. This leg of tour had been no different, with Jake debuting his new band and walking on stage nightly to belt out a five song set. Josh had, at first, been only mildly annoyed at the amount of Mirador signs he was welcomed with upon the opening show. But by the time night two and three rolled around, his jealousy had grown a head of its own and he’d been on the hunt since for any way he could to steal back his spotlight. Like solar flares in the night, he stood shining on stage lavishing fans with the attention of a seasoned frontman. Because that’s what he was. But you’d noticed the change in him, you’d seen the amount of ‘I love you, too, darling’ he had spoken. Had fallen prey to his neediness every night when he would call you to his hotel room, pinning you face down against the mattress as he fucked you into oblivion and demanded you tell him how much you adored him. How beautiful he was. How very lovely his fans thought he to be, because he was. Josh’s attention was like basking in the sunlight, warm and delicious and so very welcome. But it came with a cost, always, and you’d inevitably crawl into Jacob’s bed after Josh had had his fill of you, the younger twin wrapping you in his arms and nestling back into his slumber without a single question asked.

Josh had caught on too quickly to that, jealous even then that Jake finished the night with you regardless of in what way. Demanding you sleep in his bed, be his own personal alarm clock with a little head start to his day.

“You know, dove, we call you little bird because the only time we hear you sing is when you’re alone with one of us. Quiet as a mouse otherwise, barely a peep heard. And here you are, running your mouth to me throwing accusatory words like jealous around.” Josh smirked as his hand dropped from your chin, finding new real estate grasping tightly to your hip. “Why would I ever be jealous of Jacob?”

“Because, I’m fucking in charge now,” you heard Jake rasp from the door, his lean form stepping into the room. “Because you can’t handle that I didn’t need you to hold my hand out onto that stage,” he continued, a single booted foot pushing the door shut before he tossed his black blazer to the couch. You’d worried over this, knowing sooner or later the tension between them would come to a head and they’d not be able to avoid one another. Words would need to be spoken, and whether they were forced past their teeth or dripping with honey would inherently dictate the way the rest of tour might go. “Maybe because the spotlights on me more now.”

“Jacob,” Josh’s eyes never left your face though yours had already focused in on the guitarist. He stood a few feet away, unbuttoning the wrists of his dress shirt and rolling the sleeves up to his elbows slowly.

“Joshua, I’d like to speak with her alone if you don’t mind. Think your jealousy could take a break and find something better to do while I speak with our assistant?”

“I was here first,” Josh bit out, his cold stare eating through your calm demeanor. “And. I’m not. Jealous.”

“Right. Well you’ve held her hostage since last night and I need to speak with her alone.” Oh. You knew the tone to his voice. Josh may be jealous of the attention Jake had been receiving, but Jake was jealous of the attention you’d been giving Josh. Your eyes cut between Josh and Jake, your throat jumping as you swallowed nervous spit and let your mouth drop open to speak.

“Josh,” you began, feeling his fingers dig into the flesh stretched over your hip bone. “Why-.”

“Don’t even think about suggesting I give you two a few minutes.” His voice dropping low as he spoke, a flash of anger blazing through his piercing stare.

“Come the hell on, Josh,” Jake groaned. “You’re being such a bitch about this.”

Fuck.

Okay, so the words they had weren’t going to be nice, and you’d be stuck in the crossfire of it all.

“Me?” Josh mused, an incredulous tone to his voice as he released his grip on you and spun toward his brother. They regarded one another for a beat before you heard Josh snort. “Maybe I am. The bitch is back, baby! And the bitch gets what he wants.” His words had a sense of finality to them as he stepped closer to his twin and further from you.

“Really, Josh?” Jake shook his head, one side of his mouth curling into a smirk as he glanced beyond his brother to you. “What, you afraid if you let her spend any time with me she won’t come back the doting little dove you so needily demand time with?”

“You afraid if you don’t intervene now she won’t come back to you at all?” Josh countered, one hand ghosting down over his own hip as he smoothed the front of his velveteen jumpsuit. Black and fitted, a v neck that zipped down the front, he had taken on a new persona when he’d slipped into it. Becoming dark as midnight when he did, if his hair were any longer you’d mistake him possibly for his very twin with the broody way he walked around in it. Jake snorted loudly in response, gesturing for you with a two fingered gesture. You moved near involuntarily, your feet carrying you to him as you stepped around Joshua.

“Good morning and good afternoon dove,” he purred, his hand snaking up and cupping around your neck as he pulled you into him. “You were missed sorely last night.” His last words were spoken against your lips before he kissed you deeply, licking into your mouth as his lips moved against yours. From behind, you could feel Josh’s hands come to rest against your sides as his chest pressed to your back.

“Don’t you dare think about kicking me out of this room for him.” He demanded into your ear, voice so low the vibration reverberated through you down to your toes. Breaking the kiss, Jake used his thumb to push your chin up as he pulled back some to look at you, tipping your head back onto Josh’s shoulder as he did.

“Show him how badly you’ve missed me, little bird,” Jake cooed, his eyes dancing between making eye contact and staring at your lips. “Show Joshua he isn’t the only one worthy of your attention.”

Again, Josh huffed a sigh through his nose, his patience wearing thin as his finger tips kneaded into your side.

“C’mon dove, show me,” he taunted from behind, his lips pressed to the shell of your ear as his eyes stared unwaveringly at his twin. “But don’t forget to tell Jacob how you called me a god last night.”

You watched Jake’s face redden, deep crimson spreading over his chest and neck as he glared past you to Josh.

“Jake,” you whimpered, his grip on your neck tightening as he pulled you flush against him. Josh followed, unwilling to keep any space between the two of you.

“Show him, dove.”

“She won’t,” the older of the twins rasped. “Sweet bird is too enamored by me to go against that. Aren’t you little precious?”

You pressed your eyes shut as Jake reached his free hand around you, pushing Josh away gently.

“Enough,” he demanded. “She can give us both equal attention, Josh.” Finally, a damn voice of reason, you thought. Until he continued. His attention returned to you as he released your neck, his hands deftly working his belt open. “Forget showing him, show me how much you’ve missed me.” His belt clinked as it fell open and his nimble fingers worked the button apart before rolling the zipper of his slacks down slowly. “Show me I’m just as special as him.” His words were begging, his deep brown eyes matching the way Josh had previously looked at you-hooded and pleading. You couldn’t deny the younger twin, they both knew you had a soft spot for him. Common knowledge between the three of you, something more resided between you and Jake where as for Josh you were at times merely a play thing. Jake’s lower lip pouted out just the tiniest bit, enough that Josh himself wouldn’t even notice but you’d caught it. He was too good at this game. Acting on instinct alone, you dropped to your knees as Jake splayed the sides of his slacks out. The short tuft of hair he’d trimmed down recently peeked out, letting you know for the fourth show in a row that he’d planned to walk on stage without boxer briefs on under his suit pants.

“I like the way it feels,” he had insisted once when you’d scolded him for it, siting that he would ensue panic if he went around slanging dick the way he was. Jacob had only giggled, but somewhere in your mind you knew it was because Joshua had done the same.

“Jacob, no boxers?”

“It’s sir when you’re on your knees, dove. Don’t disappoint me already.” He needn’t say more, his lower lip pouting out even further as he looked down at you. Obediently, you reached up and ran your hand along his inner thigh, squeezing his length as it hardened beneath your touch. “Atta girl,” he encouraged, watching with rapt attention as you dipped your fingers beneath the material of his pants and fisted his cock. Expertly, you removed his length from the confines of his pants and stroked from base to tip slow and firm.

“You’re gonna make me watch you give him the attention I deserve?” Josh questioned from behind you, impatient already as he watched you lean in and pull your tongue along the expanse of Jacob’s length.

“Why are you talking still,” Jake groaned, refusing to take his eyes off of you. For your part, you watched him through your lashes as you worked your mouth back down to his tip-a trail of wet kisses being bestowed upon his beautiful cock. Josh huffed quietly, and without looking you could tell he was already pouting as he padded toward the couch and dropped to the plush surface of it.

“Fucking front man treatment,” he grumbled as Jake’s hand came around and cupped the back of your head, nudging you forward. Instinctively, you wrapped your lips around the pillowy head of his cock and swirled the tip of your tongue around it. Jacob’s stomach muscles danced and flexed, the breath beginning to pant out of him as you fed his length into your mouth. You took great care to work your tongue along his shaft as you did, reveling in the feel and taste of his smooth skin. You had missed him. And Josh could tell based on the way you eagerly gave his twin the attention he so desperately wanted.

“Fuck, dove,” Jake moaned, his head dropping back as the tip of his cock nudged against the back of your throat. From the couch, you could hear Josh roll the zipper on his jumpsuit down before clearing his throat loudly.

“If a shows going to be performed tonight, you’ll show me the same attention.”

Jakes fingers tangled into your hair, grasping tightly at the root as you tried to pull your head back.

“Jus’ jus’a’sec,” he mumbled, mouth dropping open as his hips thrusted forward causing you to gag around his thick length. When he released his grip on the back of your head, you popped off of him as a thin string of saliva kept you connected to him.

“Dove,” Josh beckoned for you as he stood and approached the two of you, seeing you turn on your knees just as he reached you. “Be a good girl,” he ordered, fisting his length and removing it from his jumpsuit as his free hand tapped against your cheek. And so you obliged, your mouth falling open in the same manner as it had for Jake. Joshua, however, didn’t believe in gentle. Not when it came to making the point that he was the better of the two twins, the bigger, the hotter, the more talented. And true to form, it didn’t take long before he was falling apart beneath your touch, his moans and whines growing desperate as he fucked into your throat with quick, sharp thrusts of his hips.

“My sweet sparrow,” Jake cooed, watching you perk up as you were reminded of his presence. “Don’t make me wait.” He stepped closer, leaving only room for you to turn to him on your knees once you’d released Josh’s length from your mouth. You’d known this game before, the twins so demanding of your attention and time that they’d see you between the two of them rather than alone with one. Never touching one another, barely touching you, and both of them eager to be your first taste between them. Thrice they pulled you between the two of them, fucking your throat and twirling their fingers into your hair until you were nothing but a mess. Your hair fucked and your face tear stained from being gagged repeatedly in an effort to prove who could make you the messiest until Josh unexpectedly whimpered in a tone you’d not heard from him in too long. Your face pressed to the smooth, shaved skin of his pelvis as your lips stretched around his base and his length throbbed and pulsed against your tongue.

“Fuck,” he whined loudly as he came, his hot release spurting down your throat as he held your head still and delivered harsh, quick thrusts forward.

“Son of a bitch,” Jacob growled, shoving his cock back into his pants as you pulled away from his twin.

“Jake,” you started, turning to him as he put the button on his slacks together and began working at the belt.

“Save it, I won’t come second to him any more.” His eyes refused to meet yours as you stood, Josh chuffed and chuckling behind you as he stuffed himself back beneath the velvety fabric of his jumpsuit.

“Jacob,” you offered again softly, your eyes cast toward the floor as you stood on wobbly legs. “Sir, please.”

“Later, Dove.” He silenced you with his tone, disappointed and hurt as he grabbed for his blazer and vacated the room, leaving you and Josh alone once more.

“Now who’s the jealous one,” he mused, condescending and cocky as he squeezed your shoulder tightly. “Don’t bother going after the cry baby, he’ll get his rocks off on stage when he’s out there fucking his guitar.”

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #mirador #Josh Kiszka smut #Jake Kiszka smut #Greta van fleet smut #gvf smut

190 notes · View notes

comfortless · 3 months

Note

HIYA SYL! I LOVE UR WORK WITH THE DEPTHS OF MY SOUL AND ALSO I HOPE YOURE HAVING A GOOD DAY (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

AHEM! I constantly have this idea of Hybrid!Konig discovering the scent of Hybrid!Reader on his territory, but due to it being so vast he can never catch her in person. All he has to go off of is scraps of food, her scent rubbed against stones and stumps, and prints that are MUCH smaller than his! Until on one faithful day, he catches the lil thing creeping around his personal space!

I just wanna add that I’d love to see you tweak this idea ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ (If you want!) like making it human!reader instead orrrr in a more human manner such as it being a cabin in woods and reader is stranded, maybe. ANYTHING, KEKEKE ID JUST EAT UP ANY OF YOUR AMAZING WORK

raaah thinking about a bear hybrid König because of the cute lil kaomoji.. he would be so big and soft… ;; reader gets to be a fox..! also thank you for your sweet words and the prompt, angel!! ^^ 💘 too many ideas… i should write more hybrid!Kö…

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. reader & König are mostly human like last time! just with ears and tails. König is incredibly awkward in this (has 0 idea how to talk to a lady someone help him), possessive behaviors, very much… love? obsession? at first sight, fluff, implied sex.

The pretty thing in the grove does not know that she sits on the cusp between admired and threatened. She skitters through summer foliage like a dance, twists and winds and stretches to reach each fattened, ripe fruit hanging from vine or limb. The scent that lingers in this place fills most up with dread, their eyes wide as they look for places to hide or run, any place but here. She hardly seems bothered when she takes a plum into her mouth, it’s juice dripping down her chin as her tail curls over her bare stomach.

She laughs when the birds in their trees warn her of danger, bares her teeth at them and tells them all she’s far faster than some old bear, speaks off-key when she’s drunken on stolen fermented fruit and dazed on the rays of sunbeams shifting through the leaves.

He could rush out, take her by surprise and hook a claw into her throat before she would even have the mind to spare him a glance. It’s just that no part of him wants to, not now, not when he’s been made aware of the beautiful passerby that steals his food and leaves a pattern of uneven, dancing footprints in her wake. He had only had the thought once when he saw this earthly garden uprooted with only the foreign smell of rosemary and lilac left behind.

Watching her now, it’s all too different.

She leaves the pit of her plum at her side when she lies in the grass to rest, tail plumed up and over her middle like a blanket as her ears flick and rustle her hair. It’s not a tentative sleep: she’s soft, warm and utterly exhausted from her day of pilfering if the long, quiet breaths were much to go by.

Any other bearman would eat her whole and pick the bones from his teeth to leave as offerings for the birds, the buzzards with their wild eyes and ruffs of feathers about their necks. But… it’s only summer, what good would eating her do? He reasons it would hurt him more than it could ever hurt her, because then all would fall back to tedium and silence. There would be no more hushed laughter and dizzying prances, no more of a sight prettier than any view he’s seen prior.

He wants more of her than this— more than what he should ever have at all or more of her than even she could offer with honeyed words or soft touches.

So, he only watches her rest. In the gentle calm of daylight, she rolls against the grass in sleep, bares herself unknowingly when the sun warms her and her thighs are too warm to press against one another. And finally, he wills himself to turn away, to wander back to that dreary cabin that serves as a proper home, because as much as he wants, he does not deserve.

The days go on like this.

The haze of summer does not let up, and she’s made a home of a strawberry patch in a glade closer to the cabin than she’s ever been before. He watches her bask amongst the bushes, lying on her belly while the sun beats down against her hide, kisses over her shoulders with a yellowish glow that only makes her look as sweet as warmed honey, a bonfire, lovely as the fruit she steals.

Nothing changes in her even when he does bring himself to detach from the shade of the pine, force himself into the light for the birds and tiny humming bees to see. She tilts her head back, flicks her tail and smiles like she’s known he’s been there all along. Known the loneliness and tastes it on her teeth to spit it back out in refusal, but she hasn’t— not like he has, because she’s the one who speaks first.

“Are you going to eat me?,” she asks when she’s risen to her feet. His little fox does not hide herself from him; her tail sways lazily behind her, each dip and curve displayed so openly that he wonders if she sees him as a threat at all, or then, maybe the danger coaxes up an unseen heat within her.

He shakes his head stiffly, ears pressed back to his skull.

The world itself must have played some horrible joke upon him now, because all thoughts of what he wanted to say filter out into a plume of smoke. It’s maddening, how he wants to tell her he would like nothing more than to drag her back into his cabin and lick honey from her mouth, yet all that comes out is a brittle, “The strawberries are not ripe yet.”

She laughs at him, not cruel, but it still feels like teeth tearing into his throat. All hope isn’t lost, though, because even through her laughter her gaze is fond and sweet. Perhaps she’s seen him time and time again, too. It isn’t easy to hide when you’re as large and difficult to settle as König.

The fox beckons him closer with a curl of her fingers and a strawberry between her teeth. She drapes an arm over his neck to tug him down to her level and kisses him there, with the berry crushed between their mouths. Bitter as expected, but not a single complaint billows up in his mind.

This sweet fairy does not know what she’s done with that shared bite, how his mind goes doughy and sap sticky when the fruit dissipates between them and his mouth finds her own.

He wonders if she does this often, seduces larger beasts to toy with and steal from to continue her reckless romping through the forest, drift off further to the mountains and the sea, endlessly searching for the very thing he’s already found with her. It does not escape him how tightly he keeps her in his hold then, nails leaving indentations in her waist as he brings her as closely as he can, licks into her mouth until she shivers.

He would bring her flowers and honeycomb, carve little idols of her from every tree she loves if she would just—

“Will you be my mate?,” he asks, abrupt, face heating up to his very ears as he finally lets her go. A croak, a shameful one that leaves him wanting to scurry off like a rabbit, but she’s already heard it all and stares up at him with a look part doleful, part adoring. The poor thing doesn’t even know him, doesn’t know that he’s already contemplated clearing out the fox dens in the forest and chasing out the wolves to make sure that she was his alone.

If she tossed him into the river now he wouldn’t dare blame her, he would only take it out on the stupid salmon with their glistening tails, and maybe if he brought her back a treasure made of fish bone and scale he could change her mind.

But she only kisses him again, lingers right on his cheek like something a proper lover would do, before telling him that she’s grateful he’s never come to harm her, that he didn’t mind sharing his fruit on those too-hot days when she didn’t feel roused enough to hunt down the mice and the bunnies, and she even appreciated his kiss: something she tells him that had made her feel like nothing else in her life. All of the very things he’s only imagined her saying in that sweet voice she uses to whisper to the pretty flowers and the bright red cardinals tweeting back to her.

He’s never been sweet, but he believes it when she tells him that he is when they’re lying side by side in the cabin later. There’s a bruise on his shoulder the shape of her teeth and one to match of his own making on her thigh. He can’t keep himself from curling his hand around her there, thumb brushing over that purple mark he’s left as he buries his face into her shoulder and catches magnolia in her scent.

“I really like you,” she admits quietly as the night air begins to chill the sweat on their bodies, as she guides his hand up to press a kiss to his fingertips. As if she had no idea just how badly he longed to ruin anything else she’s ever said that to, set the forest ablaze and lie and laugh with her in the ash.

“I love you,” he says in turn, damning himself further as he always did to a somber oblivion. Only, this one doesn’t leave. Not even when his hand pries from her mouth to take hold of her breast and his teeth graze her skin. Her face is warm, eyes misty, like she’s just been given the most hearty helping of something delicious amidst pure famine.

She doesn’t laugh at his confession, doesn’t bat his face away from her nipple, only suggests that they bathe beneath the moon. He can not fault her for not reciting the words; this bout has only made him further intent on pulling her in to keep. He convinces himself that all it would take is time, or a rougher fuck, something. He’s never been too patient, either.

The fox curls into his lap as the water reaches them, head thrown back where she sits, impaled and ecstatic while his fingers drift to her hips, head pressed to her chest where he tells her that she has more than paid him back for what she’s stolen.

She didn’t need to lie or let him sully her out of pity anymore. Testing and prying in his own way, even as he whispers that confession to her again and again, against her clavicle and up to her neck with every languid roll of her hips.

The truth spills from her mouth like rain when she comes undone, a soft sentiment that pulls him below a warm tide, drowned out and washed away only by the words she speaks then and the way her body wraps so snug around him.

She tells him that she wishes to stay like this… for as long as she possibly can.

He carries her home like a princess from some storybook, lies her in his bed and pulls her close with a grip so tight that she whines about it being too hot— that his warmth is almost smothering, but still melts beneath him when his lips find her own again. Breaking away from her feels worse than those hangdog days he had only spent watching her from afar, longing for the things that she had only now allowed for him to feel.

But König swears to her then when her eyes lock to his and her tail begins that gentle swaying again, that no matter what she will be here forever. He’ll make sure of it.

#könig x reader #tw: hybrid

289 notes · View notes

kunasthiast · 13 days

Text

My God (2)

If last night's events are already stressful as it is, today's much worse than ever. With a visit to your father's office, what could go wrong?

Oh yeah, everything!

a/n: okaaaaay, so i'm halfway Chapter 3 as of posting this one >.<

I reaaally appreciate all your notes, reblogs, & comments for the taglist – it makes my heart flutter so much & it gets me so excited to finish this story already T^T

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + angst, Yakuza AU, Enemies to Lovers Word Count: 2,877 All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

<- previous • next ->

Taglist: @cr1sta11y @idk-bro-gay @tojis-ball-sack @thepurpleempath @fangirl-332 @jijijihanji @thedondiva45

As the first light of dawn crept into your room, a small gap in the blackout curtains that you forgot to fully close last night betrayed your efforts to keep the morning at bay. Yep, definitely starting the day this bad, how else will the rest of the day be like?

“Fuck,” you exclaimed so early in the morning. Or so you thought. Grabbing your phone from your nightstand, you tapped the screen to peek the time.

9:54 AM.

With a groan, you closed and threw your phone somewhere in your room and laid down on your stomach. Face clearly being suffocated by your pillows. This life sucks.

“Why does it have to feel this way?” You said with a groan.

Flipping around, and lying on your back, you stared blankly at the ceiling. Absolutely feeling so devoid of everything in life. Your eyes are as empty as the void. It’s like everything was sucked out of you.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you walked over to the window and yanked the curtains shut, shutting out the intrusive light. The darkness offered a slight comfort from the harsh reality of the day ahead, but you knew you couldn't hide forever.

With a heavy sigh, you forced yourself to your feet and began getting ready for the day. Each movement felt like a chore, every action weighed down by the burden of disappointment and betrayal. I hate everyone already.

As you made your way downstairs, the familiar sights and sounds of your family's mansion served as a stark reminder of the life you were born into. Despite the opulence that surrounded you, you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at your insides.

Walking to your father's office, you braced yourself for the inevitable confrontation that awaited. The door loomed ominously before you, a silent barrier between you and the truth that lay beyond.

With a heavy sigh, you told yourself, “Here goes nothing.”

Summoning all your courage, you pushed open the door and stepped inside, steeling yourself for whatever may come. Little did you know, the events of the day were about to take a turn you never saw coming.

—

“Okay, first of all? What the fuck!” You erupted, your voice dripping with anger and disbelief as you confronted your father.

His face tightened in disappointment at your choice of words, “Language, dear,” he chided, his tone laced with irritation.

Yeah, never mind all the fucking respect he deserves. Scoffing at him, you paid his scolding no mind, too consumed by the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

“Might I remind you,” pacing back and forth, you continued with your voice trembling with pent-up rage, “that you promised me a lot. A fucking LOT of times! That I’m the next head, only to have you pass it over to Sukuna – who by the way isn’t even a part of our family. I’m your family, your flesh and blood, damn it! I’m not even processing this properly yet and now you’re telling me that you already got me on a fucking arranged marriage to someone from the Gojo family? Oh, fuck off, father!”

Your father remained unmoved, his expression unreadable as he calmly countered your tirade. “Honey, it’s just the way it is. Take it or leave it. And, for once, try to act like a respectable daughter,” he retorted, his words like a slap in the face, dismissing your turmoil cold-heartedly.

His indifference fueled your frustration further, and you fought to contain the seething anger threatening to boil over. “I can’t believe this,” you muttered, the weight of betrayal heavy in your chest with your fidgeting fingers.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, your father returned his attention to his book that you unfortunately cut him off from reading earlier, effectively ending the conversation. “I’m busy. Come back when you’re done with your tantrum. Now, leave.”

“I’m not gonna do as you say this time. I’m not gonna marry anyone from that fucking family,” you confidently declared with the fire still burning within you. “I’m not gonna be your fucking pawn, father. I’m leaving this family. So, deal with it.”

Fuming with indignation, you stormed out his office. And, let’s not forget, you slammed the door hard when you left.

This is not the day I’ve envisioned to have today.

—

Back in your room, the weight of the recent events bore down on you like a heavy burden, pressing against your chest with a suffocating intensity.

Yet, there are no tears threatening to fall down anytime soon, just the palpable heartache and silent screams echoing through the depths of your soul. Please, I’m too strong for this.

As a way to make yourself calmer, that can help you gather your thoughts, you decided to go to your restaurant. Yes, the restaurant your father gifted on your 18th birthday. It’s apparently his gift symbolizing his support for your aspirations outside the family’s legacy.

A bitter scoff escaped your lips, “Well, fuck legacy.” Words heavy with anger. As you made your way out your room towards the mansion’s carport, you know in yourself that you got to leave this place. “Yeah, I won’t go back home here,” you mutter to yourself as you approach your car.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, you revved the engine, the purr of the powerful machine echoing throughout the carport. But, as you were getting ready to live, your thoughts inevitably turned to the arranged marriage your father and the Gojo family had arranged.

Just the mere mention of this family sent shivers down your spine. Yeah, I fucking hate that family. They’ve been your family’s rival from the start. Always the territorial disputes, the dirty, underhanded tactics, and the arrogance that runs throughout every family member.

And, then there was Satoru – the one your father chose as your groom. Well, he has no choice, Satoru’s the only heir of his family, definitely of flesh and blood.

To call him attractive would be an understatement – Satoru has that magnetic, alluring charm that was impossible to ignore. Heck, he’s beautiful. With those azure eyes, fluffy white hair, and velvety voice, he’s every woman’s dream – except you. You’re not even sure why you think his hair’s fluffy!

But, all beautiful things have ugly sides. And his was a huge ass dent to his looks. He’s a fucking asshole. Clenching your jaw, you tore yourself away from your thoughts and the carport, steering yourself towards the way to your restaurant.

The drive to the restaurant made you forget everything for a moment. With each passing mile, you felt the tension in your shoulders begin to ease. As you pulled into the parking lot, the sight of your restaurant filled you with a sense of calmness.

Stepping out into the cool embrace of the wind, you savored this feeling that offers a temporary calmness within the raging storm inside you.

“I’m so glad to be back,” you murmured to yourself.

Pushing open the door to the restaurant, you were greeted by the familiar sights and sounds of the bustling kitchen, the savory aroma of spices and herbs filling the air. Your staff, surprised by your unannounced visit, immediately greeted you with a mixture of surprise and fear. You rarely visit. Rarely.

You may own this business, but, you couldn’t really care less about the business side of these things as you’re too busy learning everything your father taught you with. And, this one’s not a part of it. Or, so you think!

He just gave this one to you when he learned you love to cook – which definitely by the way is a short occurrence in your life. You were bored, you learned how to cook, you made everything you’ve been craving for, and now you were bored, again.

But, you can’t deny the calmness that cooking brings you. It takes you out of your thoughts and just focus on prepping and cooking everything up.

Uraume, your most trusted confidante and your restaurant’s head chef, immediately approached you with a knowing look.“You’re only here when you’re stressed,” they remarked, their tone a mixture of sympathy and understanding.

You chuckled wryly as you made your way towards your office. “Yeah and today is no exception,” you replied, the weight of the previous events pressing heavily upon you. “I’ll whip something up in the kitchen. You know what to do.”

As you entered your office, you felt the sense of zen and calm wash over you. With each passing moment of taking in the familiar surrounding, the tension began to ebb away. You slipped into your chef’s jacket, your mind already buzzing with ideas for today’s creations.

Glancing at the clock, you noted the time – 11:21 AM. Perfect timing. Your restaurant is supposed to open in a few minutes, but you instituted a rule long ago: when you were here, no one is allowed to enter the kitchen, and the restaurant will be closed to the public.

A tub of orange chicken sounds nice.

—

Sukuna's luxurious penthouse was filled with the soothing sound of water coming from the shower as he emerged from the steam-filled bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. With a flick of his hand, he silenced the insistent ringing of his phone, its screen lighting up with a call from Uraume, his most trusted confidante.

Walking across the marble floor towards his bedroom, his thoughts drifted to you, your demeanor from last night.

He knows you’ve been expecting to become the next head. He knows how frustrated you are feeling after the announcement has been made. He just knows. And, it amuses him to see your reaction, the way you wore your emotions so openly. He’s keen on observing you.

“Cute,” he mused to himself with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Dressing himself in a black slack with an unnecessary tight black folded sleeves, definitely outlining his sexy physique, topped with a suspender, Sukuna admired his reflection in the mirror. Yeah, more like it. His demeanor exuding with such confidence, power, and authority.

Adjusting his reading glasses, his mind buzzed with what’s to come for the day – negotiate with the Naoya from the Zenin family regarding the territorial disputes, dealing with the underground firearm deliveries he missed last night – all in a day’s work for a man of his calibre.

Yet, amidst the chaos of his busy schedule, thoughts of you lingered, an unexpected distraction in his otherwise meticulously organized life.

Shaking this off, Sukuna stepped out onto the expansive balcony overlooking the city skyline. Before he could go on with his day, there was one matter that demanded his attention. Gotta see princess first.

As he reached for his car keys, Sukuna’s thoughts went back to you, a nagging reminder he couldn’t quite shake. How the fuck are you doing now. And, he can’t believe he’s this worried about you.

Brushing aside the thought for the nth time, Sukuna exited the penthouse with a confident stride, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

As he was walking towards the elevator, his phone buzzed with an incoming text message. Glancing at the screen, a smirk tugged at his lips as he read the words: “She’s here.”

“Talk about coincidence,” he chuckled to himself.

Yeah, he can’t wait to meet you.

—

Sukuna stepped out of his sleek black car, the sharp click of his shoes against the pavement. He approached the entrance of the restaurant – which has a sign that says ‘closed’ – and his gaze fixed with a single purpose: to see you.

Pushing open the door that Uraume left unlocked for him, he stepped into the warmth of the restaurant, the savory aroma of the spices and herbs enveloped the cool air. The whole place is completely deserted with only Uraume sitting at one table.

“Where is she,” Sukuna commanded as Uraume pointed towards the kitchen as their answer.

Sukuna’s eyes swept across the room, his gaze setting on the bustling kitchen where you were too focused on. There was a flicker of intrigue in his eyes as he watched you move, completely absorbed in your culinary hobby. You once told him that it was just a hobby and it sticked to him.

As he approached to observe you, the noise of the kitchen seemed to dim. Sukuna’s presence filled the space around you. Sensing him, a prickling sensation at the back of your neck sent a shiver down your spine. Can’t this day get any better?

Turning, you met his gaze head-on, your expression guarded. Yeah, still attractive. You roamed your eyes on his whole physique, with a quick glance at his folded arms that showed his defined biceps. Okay, wrong move because the fluttering pterodactyls in your stomach are back.This made you sigh and cut your gaze off him.

“What do you want?” You asked, your voice tinged with a hint of irritation and skepticism. Sukuna’s smirk only widened at your boldness, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“I came to see you, princess,” he replied smoothly, his tone dripping with charm. You swear even without looking at him, you can see his smug smile that you want to wipe off his face and kiss – okay, what the fuck was that?

You rolled your eyes at his flirtatious tone and breathed heavily to clear up your thoughts, choosing to focus on your cooking instead. Sukuna’s presence is a distraction you didn’t need, especially not today. To top it off, you’re not ready for another confrontation.

“I don’t have time for your games, Sukuna,” you retorted, your voice firm. “If you’re here to eat, then see yourself out.”

Sukuna chuckled at this with his hands unfolding to raise it to a low surrender pose, “I don’t have games for you, princess. You know that. Just came here to check in on you.”

“How did you even know I’m here?”

“Uraume.” Oh, yeah. Even though Uraume’s your trusted confidante, they also are Sukuna’s trusted confidante. It just works like that.

Sukuna’s response only fueled your frustration further. The pterodactyls in your stomach long gone. Of course, Uraume would rather reveal your whereabouts to him that tell you how they even got close with Sukuna. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of annoyance at that.

"I assure you, princess, I mean no harm," he reassured, his voice smooth as silk. "I simply wanted to see how you're holding up after last night.” Yeah, he’s here to gloat.

Last night. The mere mention of it sent a wave of emotions crashing over you – anger, betrayal, frustration. You clenched your jaw, fighting to keep your composure in front of him.

“I’m fine. You can have the fucking title as the head of the family all you want. I’m out of this family,” you replied curtly. Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of amusement and skepticism, as he leaned casually against the wall near the door.

“Why leave?” He challenged, his voice dripping with casual disdain. “You’re just proving to your father that you’re not deserving to be a head. Too weak for this shit, princess?”

“Oh, fuck off, ’Kuna. You don’t know anything,” you shot back, your tone sharp with annoyance.

Sukuna’s facade of nonchalance faltered for a moment, replaced by a feigned hurt expression. “It hurts my pride that you don’t acknowledge me that much, princess,” he said, his words clearly laced with mock sincerity.

“I can see it in your face,” he continued, his tone shifting to one of quiet intensity. “You don’t think I deserve to be the head.”

“Because you really don’t,” you retorted, your words cutting through the tension like a knife. “You’re not even blood-related to father, to us. Just a stranger who climbed up the ranks.” Yeah, you’re quite harsh on this one.

Sukuna’s smirk only widened at your brutal honesty. “Yet, a stranger better than the supposed one-and-only heir,” he quipped, his amusement evident.

Fed up with the conversation, you flipped him off.

Sukuna chuckled, his laughter filling the space between you that made your eyes roll – you swear, you almost blacked out from that eye roll.

“Well, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me. I’m just a phone call away, princess. You know and I know that I’m on your speed dial,” he said with a wink and a smug smirk yet his tone is surprisingly genuine and a bit flirtatious.

But before he could make his exit, you called out to him, the desperation evident in your voice. “Wait.”

Oh, fuck his captivating eyes. Fuck his infuriatingly sexy smirk. Fuck the way his muscles strained against his tight shirt. Fuck those damn eyeglasses that he doesn’t even have to wear because he has a clear vision! Fuck everything, it’s all too much. I just need a way out so fuck my plan, too.

Sukuna paused, turning back to fix his gaze on you with a newfound intense curiosity glinting in his eyes. “Missed me already, princess?” His lips curled into a smug grin as he spoke, a hint of amusement lacing his words.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gathered the courage to blurt out the unexpected request.

“Marry me, ‘Kuna.”

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #yakuza!au sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk #sukuna x you #au sukuna #my god #jjk x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #yakuza au #jujutsu kaisen

122 notes · View notes