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chiliyue-archived · 1 year

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Markings-Biting

Characters; Zhongli, Itto, Xiao, Kazuha, Diluc, Childe, Scaramouche, Dottore, Ayato, Albedo

Tags; NSFW/SMUT. Fem!reader. Biting, teasing, rough sex, degradation, oral (recieving), minor mentions of blood

ZHONGLI marks you with wet kisses trailing down the nape of your neck as he takes from behind. As the blemishes form in the wake of his teeth, gentle praises fall from his lips to meet the shell of your ear. He can't help himself but bite into your shoulder as he approaches his climax, your whine in repsonse only riling him up further. Afterwards he brushes over the spot with gloved fingers as to soothe the slight ache it caused but he can't take his eyes off the bruise- it compliments you perfectly.

Shameless and unapologetic within the moment. ITTO quickly succumbed with how warmly and tight you hugged his cock, his fingers were gripping your hips in a grip that was sure to leave bruises. Without thinking, Itto would bite in the juncture of your neck- rather hard. The yelp you made almost caused him to stop until he hears those delicious moans come from you a moment later, a mixture of both pleasure and pain. Gives the forming bruise a kitten lick as he praises you for how well you make him feel.

XIAO, who buries his head within the crook of your neck, he face blushing red from the intimacy of the moment. As pleasure rocks against his bones in an uneven manner, he finds himself nibbling on the surface of your collarbones- all before biting hard when you clenched around his dick. Sometimes he forgets his own strength and scrambles as he sees the tears starting to prick your eyes. Encouragement leaves him to suckle on the forming bruises whilst his hand rubs circles along your waist, hips rocking against you in a languid pace. Even in his drunken state of pleasure, he knew it was quite beautiful on you.

Kisses and marks you within your wrist and inner thighs, KAZUHA is always gentle when it comes to it. Even as he trails hot wet kisses that leave you squirming, he is gentle. Even as his breath puffs against your bundle of nerves, he is aware of his own strength and ability. And even as he suckles at the flesh and lovely petals forms in its place is he conscious of your wellbeing. His marking for his to see alone, placing them in areas in which you can easily cover up- may even litter some agaisnt your neck with the excuse of giving you his scarf.

Dozens of blue and purple spots are within your inner thighs as DILUC adores eating you out whenever he can. He suckles at the bruises as you mewl; one hand getting you terribly spread and the other drawing sharp circles of your nerves. During the aftercare, he loves to trace his fingers along the blemishes, savoring the way you whimper slightly when he applies menial pressure whilst his words carry genuine apologies for being so rough. May even press gentle pecks to those areas, hands rubbing at the bruises on your hips. But he finds you more mesmerizing with the love bites, empathzing the intimacy and tender feeling he holds for you.

CHILDE who is unafraid to leave you littered with dark blemishes and bruises to show the world that you belong to him. You hardly even notice the way he presses those bites against your neck, you were too occupied with by how his dick kiss your cervix to notice his teeth grazing your most sensitive spots. His words whisper the most degrading things, dripping with false sympathy as he coos on how everyone will see how slutty you truly are. Though you can only babble his name in reponse- given with how you clenched around him, something tells him that your body yearns to be marked up and showed off to the world as well.

If there's a part of your body that is exposed, SCARAMOUCHE is sure to part it all up with his sharp canines, coaxing sobs to spill from your swollen lips. He is really quite possessive, wishing to show you off in manner that lets everyone know who drives you crazy every night. He leaves markings along your chest, kissing and tugging with his teeth while his finger toy with your bud. Dark blemishes would also form along your shoulder blades, his lips connecting into a grin when you gasp at the new sensation. He is quite intrigued with how he can make you cum by just marking you up, and at the end of the day he'll show everyone that your his and his alone, so he really has little reason to complain.

He bites hard, perhaps enough to draw blood. Your sobs- a mixture of pain and pleasure only drove DOTTORE to continue. Your sweet sounds only causes him to leave more vicious red bites along your collar, the bruises will be terribly hard to cover up in the morning- but truly Dottore pays no mind to that, not when you squrim beneath him, nothing but his finger stimulating you at a merciless pace- if anything he'll love to show off his beautiful experiment, covered in his signature markings to those who even dare stare at you for longer than a second.

Marks you in the most unconventional areas that leave you gasping in surprise. He loves how your breath hitches as his lips trail under ear, hot breath pricking your skin all while hes sheathed deeply within you. AYATO really can't hold himself back. You look so pretty marked by his truly, areas which he knows he'll be able to see while your perfroming your daily duties as much as you attempt to cover it up. He finds something addicting when he awakes in the following morning and sees his lover within his arms, his markings as evidence of your lewd actions the night prior. And once those marks to fade, he'll gladly renew them for you <3

ALBEDO is quite simple and very direct in the way he litters love bite on your neck. It wasn't always in the intimacy of the moment, though he'll gladly nibble at your thighs if it's his or yours desire. Rather, he finds himself grazing your skin with his teeth in the early mornings or late nights when you cuddled within his arms, neck painfully visible to his experienced eyes. He loves to observe as the red spots slowly form before biting a bit harder ecliting a shiver and whimper on your end. He is an artist and your skin is a blank canvas eagerly calling for his artistic interpretation, worry not, he'll gladly indulge you and paint you lovely red spots that place some of his own masterpieces to shame.

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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Ghost & König’s Reaction to You in a Maid Outfit

Warnings: 18+ (just to be safe), Implied Sexual Content, Rough Ghost & König, Dominant Ghost & König, Lashing (with a Belt), Restraining, Victim Blaming (Kind Of), Petnames, König is Basically Feral™, Implied Oral, Threats, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Ghost

Comes up behind you when you’re idling with something and straight-up just sticks his hand up your skirt.

He pulls you to his chest when you jump, squeal, taking advantage of your flailing to hook the band of your underwear and pull them down your thighs.

Confused, you’re given no time to react before Ghost has your hands pinned behind your back, held in place with handcuffs of bone, flesh and pure muscle as he shunts you against the countertop, something protruding – intruding – hard against your exposed centre as he presses himself tightly against you.

Your cheek pressed against the cold surface, you barely see or hear Ghost between your startled breaths, feeling only a shadow come over you as he leans down to your ear, his free hand slithering from your back to your face, where he slips a lock of hair from your vision.

“Did’ya really think you could get away with wearing this,” he said, low, dangerous, his hand coming to grip the hem of your skirt.

“Without consequences ?”

You can feel his hand on your thigh now, gripping the skin hard enough to leave a pale imprint of his lust. Fingers slithering up the expanse of your leg, resting just beneath where you’ll be screaming for him to have mercy half an hour from now.

It doesn’t matter what you do or say now – not that you can or will be able to do much of either with your arms bound and Ghost occupying your mouth with a meat delicacy you can’t buy over a counter (despite that being where you are now, ironically) in about ten minutes’ time..

“The time for apologies is over, Darling,” he tells you. You wince when you hear his belt hissing as he slides it from his jeans, the material crinkling in his grip as if the creature it hailed from was still alive.

And he cracks it. Once. Twice. Against your bare thighs, making you cry out, your stockings having withered under Ghost’s harsh stare.

“All you can do now is repent.”

König

Lures you into a false sense of security with low, soft praises of “How beautiful you look, Engel !” And “Won’t you come closer so I can have a better look at you ?”

By the time you may suspect something in König’s tone is unusually jovial, it’s too late.

You missed the feral glint in his eye, the shattering grip he had on his wine glass, discarded as he turns his attention to you now.

Before you can even wonder what it is he’s thinking, you’re slammed onto the sofa, König sinking down on top of you, his hands steel around your wrists as he holds them beside your head.

And now, you see it.

All at once, and entirely too late.

A predatory possession of all that was your kind, mild-mannered, sensitive König, replaced with a shadowed imitation, blackened by an almost supernatural depth of desire none but he could execute to its fullest potential.

And it shows in how his breathing is ragged despite you posing no real physical test to his strength. Rather, there’s something within trying to break free. And it has you in its sights.

Leaning down, König takes the skin of your neck between his teeth, biting it, sucking it, leaving a path of destruction in his wake as your skin reddens. There will be bruises soon.

Not that König will be letting anyone else see them. You’ll be lucky if you’re able to even leave the bedroom, nevermind the house.

That much is apparent to you in how König growls when you move, try to slip your constricted wrists into some position of comfort, making him clamp down on top of you, his thighs gripping your sides, your ribcage a shell in his vice.

“Don’t try anything cute, Engel,” König husks, voice deep and feral. His pupils are pinpricks, unhinged in a most biological manner. And his teeth seem sharper now. Somehow.

“Or I may be forced to try something unorthodox with you.”

The bulge between his legs, one which he presses to the sensitive spot between yours, tells you he��s deadly serious. If his killing smile wasn’t enough.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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puppykento · 23 days

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SALVATION - SUGURU GETO

ft. cult leader!suguru geto x fem!reader

a/n: first full fic on this blog !! been thinking on this for a WHILE and it's finally here :3 feedback/rbs insanely appreciated, hope you all like the fic <3 thank you to @kaitkatme and @nexysworld for beta reading this for me ♡

cw: 18+ content, manipulation, dub-con due to heavy coercion, fingering, corruption kink, loss of virginity, use of 'master', power imbalance, p in v, creampie, breeding, talks of marriage, geto calls reader his wife and little lamb

word count: 2k words

Suguru knew the moment he laid eyes on you that he had to have you. You came to him all nervous and jittery, unable to even meet his eyes. He can see the curse hovering over you, infecting you with its presence. He can tell it's been haunting your dreams before you even open your mouth to say anything, without even looking at the dark circles under your eyes. He listens to you talk, nodding along with feigned sympathy to make you feel comfortable and let your guard down around him.

“I can cure you of your ailment, my dear. But it is best if you stay here for a few days. I can sense you're troubled, and I hope to make sure I can rid you of this disease properly.” He says after a moment, but he's already reaching out to absorb the curse, slipping the orb into his pocket to consume later. He tilts his head, offering you a grin that's all teeth with a hidden sense of malice.

“I'll have someone set up a room for you.” Is all he says before he's leaving the room, waving in one of his disciples to deal with you for now. He had plans he had to form, so he couldn't waste his time on you just yet.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

He returns to you later that night, a lesser curse prepared to infect you with, using it to infect the herbal tea he's prepared for you. For a human of your health, it should simply induce a fever and fitful sleep. Enough for him to convince you that you needed to stay while he purged you of the ‘ailment’ he had diagnosed you with. Enough for him to get closer to you.

“Has everything been to your liking?” He asks as he settles on the edge of your bed, pressing the back of his hand to your head as he hands you the infected tea, making sure you don't take too bad of a turn in reaction towards it. He watches you closely as you start to sip from it, politely thanking him and nodding at his question. Non-sorcerers were such weak, fickle people. He could not harm you before he'd got what he wanted from you.

The effect is almost instant. He watches your eyelids droop as you gaze at him, almost looking like you're in a daze. Your skin grows hot under his touch, growing clammy as the fever sets in. He bites his cheek to suppress a smile as he sees how well the curse takes to you, forcing a look of concern to wash over his face.

“Oh, dear. I've been working on flushing the illness from your body, but it appears it's fighting back. I really do recommend you take my offer to stay for a few days. A week, maybe. Your recovery is important to me, dear.” He says softly, his practised tone low and caring, designed to lure you into a false sense of security. He smiles when he sees you nod in agreement, gently swiping his thumb against your forehead.

You really are far too pretty for a mere non-sorcerer, he thinks, his gaze trailing your face. It felt like a waste that someone like you was born as such a lesser creature. It was a good thing you had Suguru to guide you, to direct you along the right path. You'd be the only one of your kind worthy of walking amongst other sorcerers and his disciples. His perfect wife. You'd want him soon enough, he'd make sure of it.

Over the next few days, he works slowly to wean you off of the curse he'd put into your system, doting on you as much as his dwindling patience would allow while building up your trust in him. After a few days, he removes it, pocketing the orb and nursing you through the lingering effects it had left behind.

The fever remains, rendering you bed bound even without the curse in your system. It appeared to have weakened your immune system considerably more than Suguru had initially anticipated. Not that it particularly mattered - feverish was good and could easily work in his favour. It would make you more delirious, more pliable to his wishes.

He makes his way to your room with your nightly tea, offering you a small smile as he sits on the edge of your bed, instinctively pressing his hand to your head as he'd done every night prior to this one. He hands you your tea, brushing your cheek with his hand.

“Your fever is fading. I don't think it'll be long before you've returned to your normal self.” He tells you, his eyes locked onto yours as you sip from the cup in your hand.

“Thank you for your help, Master Geto. I feel a lot better now. It's been a while since I managed to get a full-night's sleep.” You reply, offering him a gentle smile. Your eyes still look a little hazy, as if you're about to fall asleep any moment. Suguru decides to put his plan into action.

You're not quite delirious enough to miss the way his hand wanders along your side, caressing the curve of your hip and giving it a squeeze before he slips his hand under your shirt, feeling the fever hot skin of your stomach. His eyes flick up as he hears the cup being set on the table, your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Master Geto-”

“Shh, shh. Quiet, little lamb. I'm doing this to help you. You trust me, don't you.” He coos, his voice almost disarmingly sweet. You're not used to him using that tone, and it sends your mind spinning for a moment. You gasp as his hand slips higher, cupping your bare breast as he runs a thumb over your nipple. His hands feel cold on your heated skin, causing the bud to stiffen under his touch.

“Non-sorcerers are so predictable. One touch and you're already willing to submit to me.” He says with a soft huff of laughter, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, drawing a whine from you. He sees your expression when he refers to you as such, which only serves to make him laugh harder. “Oh, please don't tell me you mistook me for one of your pathetic kind?”

His hands shift to pull on your trousers, yanking them down with your underwear. You kick out, but the fever makes you weak. Your fight amuses Suguru, drawing another laugh from him. “My little lamb is such a fighter. Darling, there's no use in fighting. You will be my wife, and you will give me an heir.”

He watches you closely, waiting for a protest that doesn't come. Only then does he truly smile, a grin spreading across his face. His thumb parts your pussy, and he clicks his tongue softly when he comes into contact with your wetness. “Ah, what's this? Does being my wife please you so much? Has another man touched you like this before, little one?”

You shake your head instantly, your cheeks growing hot under his intense gaze. He hums softly in thought, dipping his thumb past your entrance, gently teasing it. “A virgin? Mhm, I almost can't believe I'd be so lucky. You don't mind if I check, do you?”

The way you squirm as he slips his thumb away to push his index finger into your cunt is enough to tell him you're untouched, but he doesn't plan on stopping any time soon. The sooner you're swollen with his children, the better. He wants to make sure that you'd be his obedient little wife, and he has no plans on letting you so much as leave this room until he's stuffed you full.

He takes his time stretching you out, slowly adding extra digits until you're keening after being stuffed full of three of his fingers. He presses his palm against his clit as he opens you up, smirking as he watches you attempt to hump his hand to get some friction against your swollen bud. He pulls his hand away when he feels you clenching around his fingers, tutting softly.

“Now, now, little lamb. No cumming unless it's on my cock.” His words are followed by him removing his kāṣāya and loosening his yukata so he can free his cock, pumping it lazily a few times before aligning himself with your entrance. You choke out a gasp as he presses forward, slowly sinking into you inch by inch. You feel like the air is being pushed out of your lungs, your hands clutching losely at the robe still dangling from his body.

“M-Master…” You breathe out, your expression tense as he buries himself to the hilt in your cunt. His jaw clenches as he forces himself to remain still despite the tight heat surrounding him. A hiss is forced out through gritted teeth as he slowly starts to move, his hand gripping your waist tightly to prevent you from moving too much.

“Quiet, little lamb. You will adjust. Your body was made to take my seed. I knew that as soon as I laid eyes on you.” He grits out, placing your calves over his shoulders so he can fuck into you deeper, his hips slapping the flesh of your ass with every thrust.

His cock glistens with your arousal, spotted slightly with blood that serves as evidence of your purity. The sight has him smiling, rutting his cock into you with more urgency. His pretty wife was perfect for him in every way. He'd be the first and last man to ever touch you. He'd make sure of it. The tip of his cock presses against your cervix as he adjusts his hips, making sure every inch of him fills you.

“My little wife… I'll keep you nice and filled for days. Gonna make sure it takes, gonna give you my baby.” His cock brushes your sweet spot every time he drags it along your fluttering walls, your slick coating his length, dripping down to his balls. The sight alone is almost enough to make him cum, but he's determined to see you cum first. He can be a kind leader, after all - and there is a large part of him that would love to feel you tighten around him, drawing his out his orgasm.

“Bet you'd like that, hmm?” He questions, biting back a moan as he thrusts balls deep into your drippy cunt, grinding the hair at the base of his cock against your clit. His hands slide down to spread your lips so he can rut his pelvis against you. You moan out his title as you finally come undone, flooding him with your release. He fucks into you sloppily, strands of silky, black hair framing his face as he lets his head hang down. “It's an.., ah… honour to carry my child. Thank me for… for choosing you. Fuck… thank your master, little lamb.”

“Thank you.” You whine, back arching as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, the sensitivity causing tears to form in your eyes. You clench tighter around him, doing your best to milk his cock dry. “Thank you, Master.”

The words are enough to send him over the edge, his teeth clenching as he lets out a guttural moan, forcing himself right up against your cervix to ensure his cum stays deep inside of you. He lets out a shaky breath, doing his best to manoeuvre both of you into a lying position without pulling out.

He gently wipes a few tears that spill past your eyes with the pad of his thumb, pressing a kiss to your head. “Shh, little lamb. You'll be alright. I'll take care of you and my child. I promise.”

He had every intention of following through on his promise. He would not let harm come to his heir or wife, and he'd gladly kill anyone who attempted to disrespect you. You were his now, and he always protected what was his.

#suguru♡#jjk smut #jjk x reader #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru x y/n #geto x reader #geto smut #suguru x reader #suguru x you #suguru x y/n

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luv-gin · 9 months

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you’re stopped from completing your task by a young boy with dark hair and wide glassy eyes desperately seeking your attention as he taps on your arm repeatedly.

“miss,” he calls, panic evident in the tone of his voice as he addresses you “can you please help me and my sister?”

you crouch before the boy as you place a soft smile on your face to ease his worry “sure thing kiddo, what’s the problem?”

“there’s this weird guy in glasses who keeps trying to take me and my sister away for ice cream,” his lip wobbles slightly as he continues “my parents told me to not go away with strange adults, please help us.”

now worry quickly fills you and your head turns to see if you can locate a manager near by but you remain calm as you take his hand in yours “can you show me where your sister is? i’ll make sure to keep you safe and find your parents, okay?”

the boy tears up and nods only to point at the guy with white hair adorning glasses and laughing along with a younger girl as they hop around on a trampoline, you turn to the kid clutching your hand and ask him “you’re sure you don’t know this guy?” he cries in response and you panic slightly, patting his shoulders before clearing your throat.

“excuse me sir, i’m going to have to ask you leave.”

the guy turns out to be similar in age to yourself and your expression morphs into one of disgust as you think about how vile he must be trying to leave with some children.

"huh?" he voices his confusion as he stops jumping and peers down at you with the little boy clutching onto your hand "what's wrong megumi?"

the boy whimpers as he stands behind you and you instinctively extend your arms to cover him as you glare at the white haired man who's approaching you "sir, i am asking you to leave before i'm forced to call the cops." you grit your teeth and gojo's expression falls and the young girl he was accompanying joins your little group.

"megumi!" she gasps and places her hands on her hips "you can't keep doing this." she scolds with a finger wagging at the boy who's stepped out from behind you, tears long gone and donning a deadpan expression.

"i was close, tsumiki." he pouts and the girl in turn grabs his cheeks in a pinch and you look at the two kids in confusion before feeling a tap on your shoulder and you look up to see the not harasser-harasser smiling down at you.

"hi, sorry about the scare, i'm their guardian and the kiddo loves playing pranks like that." he apologises with a carefree expression and your face slacks.

"you're their guardian?? aren't you my age??" you ask and he laughs merrily as he waves his hand.

"don't worry your pretty little head about it, it's a long story." just as your neck begins to heat up you're poked once more by the kids and watch as tsumiki forces her younger brother to apologise for bothering you and spreading false information about his legal guardian who is putting a lot of effort and time into raising them- you doubt those words were truly coming from either of the kids.

"it's fine," you sigh and crouch in front of megumi one more time "just maybe think of pranking him another way like putting dye in his shampoo or something like that instead of potentially needing to have someone bail him out of jail."

"oh, that's actually happened once before-" the "adult" adds in with a snicker and you shake your head.

"good luck." you tap the kids on their shoulders.

#gojo scenario #gojo oneshot #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo headcanons #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk scenarios #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro tsumiki #gojo satoru blurb

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simp4konig · 6 months

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Halloweens with König headcannons 🎃🍂

Gender-neutral Reader

*Slow burn

Word Count: ~3246

*FLUFFFFFFF😿😿💖✨🩷🩷💘

*Soft König☺️ (but also König is a smug bastard + asshole 🙄), Established relationship, Single mention of (ambiguous) age gap 😮‍💨

🧡Happy Halloween guys!!🧡 I don't celebrate Halloween myself , but im feeling 😈in the mood😈 so i hopw this can suffice for this ooky kooky spooky season 😰😰

Gos i wanna kms ive veen so uninspirws AAAHAHAHAHDHDHDDH this is literslly. Me rn--->💥💥💥💥💥🙂🔫 fuckijg FINALLT GOT sometjing OUT 🥳🥳 rest asusred iwont kms i need to finish my rqs first ☺️💖💖✨ i will feel SO euphoric when all the WIPS will become Completed Works !! 😍😍Im just gonna not post until i gdt smth donw bci hate giving false promises its the same as lyijg,🗿🗿

Tag List ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @abysslovesyou ♡ @puff0o0 ☆ @rustic-guitar-notes ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @reyner-lee ☆ @lotionlamp ♡ @trepaika ☆ @luci4theminorannoyance

...

König wasn't really one for Halloween.

Hadn't ever been, really, as he hadn't been raised to celebrate it.

In his household, he hadn't had much exposure to the Western "Hallow's Eve".

Besides, even if he was familiar with the tradition, his parents didn't bother celebrating those kinds of trivialities; after all, they certainly weren't going to bother wasting hard-earned money on trifles like pumpkins, just so they'd rot on the front porch, or candy that would rot your teeth, or on vulgar masks that depicted serial killers and monsters, too blasphemous to bear.

Plus, his neighbourhood didn't partake in "Trick-or-treat'ing" at all, and wouldn't leave any candy for any children — wouldn't do anything, really.

Nobody decorated their house with ghouls and ghosts, nobody dressed up as vampires or murderers, nobody jumped from behind corners to shout "Boo!".

None of that, as these ideas were childish. Infantile. Juvenile, even.

Thus, October 31st, König's Austrian villiage was quiet. So eerily quiet you'd had thought it was a ghost town had it not been for hundreds of cloaked figures in the cemetary — as, for König, "Halloween" tended to be a more sombre occasion in comparison to the American/English versions.

Instead of running around and knocking on people's doors with a broad, lopsided smile like other children ought, he was brought along to visit the graves of his family members: graves of his ancestors, which he'd be told about in detail, details of the person buried six feet under the stone slab; information and stories passed down from generations.

He would be taught to honour those deceased in his family and respect their memory, to remember those in the afterlife and what they sacrificed to get there.

Carrying a lamp, he'd light candles on those decrepit gravestones, text faded and illegible, while his parents left boquets of flowers, and pulled up their long black cloaks. Silently paying their respects.

While it wasn't necessarily a day of mourning — König never needed tissues to wipe any tears or blow his nose, and neither did anyone else in the family — it was far graver when compared to the Halloween holidays elsewhere.

However, König's memories of Halloween were few, far, and in-between.

Whenever he'd hear of other people's experiences, he was never nostalgic, as, the times that he did attend those familial ceremonies he was either too young to understand what was happening, or knew too little of the deceased[s] in question to be moved by the heavy atmosphere.

Not only that, but the time period was overwhelmingly solemn, with people flooding the burial grounds, some murmuring prayers, others with tears in their eyes.

There was no laughter, no treats, no fun costumes. Not even tricks. Just suffocating depression all around.

So, he didn't really associate the celebration with something to celebrate: what, celebrating the deaths of your family? That was quite morbid, when he thought about it, and he wasn't going to dedicate an entire month every year to remind himself of death with so many other operators around him falling on the battlefield, and having had faced the grim reaper himself several times already.

Hence, every 31st of October, he did nothing. Didn't acknowledge it at all.

But all that changed one fateful day in September. When he finally acknowledged it, all right (with a little of your help of course)!

You had asked König in passing if he had considered dressing up as something for Halloween. Maybe what he had considered doing on the evening. Or if he had plans to attend the autumn fair sometime soon.

His response? A blank look. Distant recognition.

For a quiet moment, you thought he was scowling at you, silently ridiculing your childish suggestion.

Then: "Halloween? Ah!" An amused chuckle, endeared by the child-like curiosity in your eyes, and a silent sigh of relief from you.

"I don't celebrate it, myself, meine liebe. But you're welcome to tell me what your costume is. I'd love to hear all about it, maus."

Mortified by this revelation, you couldn't let this go.

"What do you mean you "don't celebrate it"? You have got to be joking!"

Wide eyes, and jaw agape, you were in disbelief.

He simply shook his head with a strained smile. "I've just never seen it as something to celebrate, you know? No reason to."

Taking it upon yourself to prove him wrong, you wasted no time converting this skeptic into a believer. "Oh no, there is. I mean, it's Halloween! Everyone is crazy for it!"

Suddenly, your eyes lit up. A wave of adrenaline crashing into you, you tugged König's arm in direction of the couch.

"That's where we'll start! We're gonna watch Halloween! That'll surely get you in the spirit."

You winked at him, satisfied. Then, a sudden snort and a suppressed chortle, hand cupped over your mouth as you laughed at your pathetic attempt at a joke.

König cocked his head to the side in confusion, but let you hastily scramble for blankets, pillows, and to microwave bowls of popcorn, as he made himself comfortable on the couch cushions that sank in protest under his weight.

Initially, he was reluctant. Not necessarily looking forward to being forced to watch movies from the 80s–00s, over-the-top movies with subpar acting, to say that he was looking forward to it would have been a stretch.

However, seeing how passionate you were about the holiday, your interests, König didn't want your sweetness sour.

Yes, he was a little older than you, and perhaps didn't grasp what there was to fuss over, but he wasn't about to spoil your good mood, or dampen that excitement just because he didn't personally understand or was interested personally. He wanted to make an effort, for you.

Vowing to take part in your silly shenanigans, he swore to become involved in the festivities in order to see you smile. To keep seeing you smiling.

After that, every October evening you'd watch a movie — a (usually) corny horror classic, though spending most nights binging all the Screams, Halloweens, Chuckys, The Shinings, Saws, and Evil Deads, — huddled under moutains of blankets and stuffing your faces with toffee-flavoured popcorn.

Watching horror films with him was like being lectured on common-sense and taught self-defence lessons in real time, though. Not like you minded, but it really got rid of the edge and the tension in its entirety.

Instead of paying attention to the storyline, it's more likely König would catch on to the stupid decisions the characters and the shitty attempts to fight back, and he wouldn't be able to help commenting:

"Why did she leave the knife in him? In his abdomen, of all places? Now the murderer has a weapon! Should have taken it out and left him to bleed out. But noooo, nein, leave the knife there."

"Going into the forest on his own? In the night? With a killer on the loose? Mein Gott, he is such a dummkopf! Bring a friend, why don't you?"

"Liebling, why is there so much gore? Isn't this rated "15"? Wait, and why is there a lady with no shirt? This is supposed to be scary, ja? I'm very scared. Scared you'll slap me, actually, if I don't keep looking at my lap."

Angrily ranting at the television, you'd gently reassure him, that, "Sweetie, this is fiction. Sometimes, the scenes are unrealistic." "But it said "based on real events"! I swear, liebling, if I watch another ten minutes of this I'll have a headache. I can't comprehend the stupidness."

Tough crowd, that couldn't really immerse himself in the plot, but you took a note or two for the sorts of horror movies König wouldn't dislike.

Although he insulted all the characters for being stupid and ridiculed all the characters for being so brainless, he would begrudgingly admit that he enjoyed the movie, pointing out some of his favourite scenes.

Self-aware comedic slashers meant he could suspend disbelief and laugh out loud a little, while, movies with an omnipotent monster meant he couldn't criticise any inaccuracies. He didn't winge at those as much in comparison to major blockbuster films. In fact, he even preferred low budget movies, ones that were pure comedic relief and so self-aware that he wouldn't be able to help but laugh along, unable to hide his amusement.

Afterwards, at exactly midnight, you'd be huddled together in the dark under a thick blanket, gorging your mouth with sugary sweets and bite-size chocolates (also indulging in chocolates that were far from bite-size), giggling like lunatics (well, that was mostly you, but König joined in to keep you company).

Later, face serious, with a torch under your chin, you'd be whispering hushedly with a tone of foreboding, voice low, and words ominous:

"Drip. Drip. Dripping water. She had checked the bathroom taps, the kitchen taps, and they were twisted tightly closed. A leakage, perhaps? Or, perhaps, something else. As she roamed the corridor, the drip-drip-drip of liquid grew louder. And louder—"

"Ah, she should call her plumber, then, shouldn't she?" A sure shit-eating smirk that was obscured by his mask, but the way his eyes were squinting you knew he was taking the piss.

Of course, storytelling was not as haunting as you would have had liked it to be: König would interject, interrupting the aura of mystery and the medatitive atmosphere, with sarcastic remarks. It made the narrations really melodramatic in the end, and frustrated you to no end.

Still, you would groan, and, undaunted by his immature antics — as, mind you, this was a grown-ass man, a 6'10 wall of muscle messing around like this, teasing you not like the cocky Colonel he was but a snarky teenage boy — continue:

"—she walked on — despite having been rudely interrupted moments prior — and her heart sank. Blood. A puddle of it, on the floor, looking like gallons upon gallons of it had—"

"Maybe she was — ah, what's the word?" A thoughtful pause, hand where his chin was under the fabric "— menustrating? Was she wearing white pants, maybe?"

"—Menstruating, König — and stop ruining my horror narration! Now I've lost the plot! Okay — against her will, her eyes moved up the wall, following the dripping blood. To her horror, it was coming from the attic. Swallowing the heavy lump in her throat, she pulled open the hatch with jittering fingers, grip slackened by the warm sweat on her palms, knees threatening to buckle. And, when the trap door released, she gasped. Blood draining her face, she saw—"

An exaggerated gasp from König, as he clasped his hands over his mouth in mock shock. "She— she saw— your mother! Mein Gott, the horror!"

"Shut up, König!" An annoyed huff, and shuffling away. "Honestly, you're such a killjoy..."

König, scooping you into his arms when you turned around with crossed arms, pouting lips, and furrowed brows, nuzzed his masked face into your neck, chuckling heartily. You squirmed under his hold, fabric tickling your sensitive neck, and you'd desperately hold back your giggles, trying hard to keep a straight face.

"Ja, ja, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Es tut mir leid, meine Liebe. Please keep going. What did she find in the attic?"

"No! You made me forget the grand reveal, now! I forgot what was up there, anyways..."

Walking around the house, you'd have the fright of your life when a huge shadow would jump in front of you at odd hours of the day.

"Boo!" König's voice resounded, loud and reverberating.

And you screamed, damn near verging on a heart attack.

"Shoving" him in frustration — you became actually even more frustrated when the man was like a solid wall and did not even budge a millimetre — König was quick to console you.

Doting over you, a wide smile on his face that the mask couldn't hide, he would be so overly lovey-dovey with you in an attempt to win back your affection that you'd roll yours eyes so far they'd end up in the back of your head.

"Meine liebe, I'm sorry for scaring you. I couldn't resist. You'll forgive me, won't you? You will, right? Please say yes."

You insisted you would, seemingly unassuming, then schemed to startle him at odd hours of the night as payback for losing your dignity in that moment.

At one point, you had even waited half an hour in the wardrobe while he was showering, only to jump out and see König in only a towel.

Yeah, you were the one that got jumpscared instead, face erupting in red despite you two being together for months at that point. You gave up trying to spook him then, bitterly accepting defeat.

Though, going along with your silly little activities, like going shopping for Halloween decorations, made König's heart swell seeing you bounce around excitedly and point out all the ornaments.

He didn't quite consent to you buying a life-size skeleton to call him Greg and place him in your shared bedroom. That was one step too far.

Still, seeing the wonder on your face, in awe of all the masks, costumes, decorations, and animated mannequins that'd cackle after triggering their mechanisms made his steel-blue eyes soften, melting into pure love and devotion for you.

So, to humour you one day, and to lift your mood after scaring you that one morning, König made two eye-holes in a white blanket, running after you around the house, almost tripping over it in his haste.

"Ooooo-ooo!" he moaned in over-dramatised agony, voice low yet playful. "This is not König, but his ghooost! Run, liebling, or you'll be neeext!"

Hearing him say that in his Austrian accent was so hilarious that were tears running down your cheeks from how hard you'd be laughing, and your sides splitting with the laughter, struggling scramble away, giggling.

Those moans of agony would become genuine cries in pain when he'd accidently hit his head on the doorframe when he forgot to duck in his excitement. The one time that bulky helmet of his could have come to use.

Despite all that, you'd be cornered against the wall, with nowhere to run, and König would pounce, tickling your sides viciously.

That broad smile on your face and the expression was worth fooling around and making a fool of himself.

He even didn't mind having you coo over his "injury" just like how he had when he was doting over you, because he loved you so much.

And, he loved you so much, that he even allowed you to "decorate" his gear. "To make it appropriate for the spooky season!" you had insisted, and he'd comply, not wanting to dull that sparkle in your eyes.

So contented with painting an intricate monster on his mask with fluorescent orange paint, you didn't notice König watching you hunched over the desk from behind, leaning against the doorframe with a loving smile on his face.

You hadn't expected that he'd wear that gear on base — veil, knee pads, helmet, and all — strutting his stuff. Just to remind everyone that their Colonel had a lovely spouse back home.

What you hadn't anticipated was how quickly König would start enjoying the season. Unexpectedly, he became obsessed with Halloween — his favourite tradition, second only to Christmas.

Carveling hollowed-out pumpkins of all shapes and sizes was one of his favourite past-times.

You'd think that with his size he'd struggle to cut through the orange crust without crushing it into pumpkin-coloured mush in his fists, but you'd be forgetting that he was skilled with a knife.

That said, König wasn't artistic. At all. The best he could produce would be a lopsided smiling caricature of... something. A nondescript creature, which you had complimented him on being so cute, only for him to angrily insist that it was an evil monster, and not cute at all.

Still, you would snap a picture before he could object, and give this pumpkin the spotlight on your front porch, soon many more following suit. Jack'o'lanterns illuminating your front step, glowing gold.

The sweet scent of cinnamon, ginger, and vanilla extract filled your house, new freshly-baked treats from the oven laid out on the kitchen island daily.

Delicious aroma of sugary pastry, homemade banana bread with small hints of vanilla and sprinkled with icing sugar, candied oranges and sour, sherbet lemon cakes, crunchy cinnamon sugar pumpkin seeds ("Made from the pumpkin guts!" you exclaimed with a smile of pride, König's eyes smiling in delight of your enthusiasm).

Crumbly shortbread in the shape skulls and bats, round cookies with orange and black icing resembling pumpkins, sponge cakes that oozed thick raspberry and strawberry jam when you bit into them ("Because they were bleeding blood," you proclaimed, a devilish smirk on your face — or, something like it, as to König you were the cutest angel he'd had ever been blessed to be around), and so, so, so much more.

So much that your weekly trips to the supermarket became biweekly, until you two found yourselves stocking up on sugar, flour, eggs, and butter far too often to keep track of.

The house was so inviting, especially to little ones from the neighbourd, that their mouths were agape and their eyes sparkled as they passed your "haunted house", holding the hands of their parent(s).

Mentioned in an earlier post that König has a soft spot for children, he'd stock up on Halloween candy and treats, and lug bucketfuls of sweets on the doorstep for any little ones that'd knock on your door to cheerfully cry out in unison, full of glee: "Trick or treat!"

He'd welcome them with open arms, but, with most of them being so little, they'd point with bulging eyes the giant on the doorstep, to be harshly reprimanded by their mothers and fathers for their ignorance and rudeness.

Few would say much after seeing König the giant, and after daring to scoop a handful of confectionary, bowing their heads and avoiding his eyes would mumble a shaky "...Th-thank you, s-sir—!"

One of them, however — a little girl with rosy cheeks donning white stockings and a gold tinsel halo — beamed brightly, albeit shyly, at König, thanking him for the treat and his generosity. An innocent, toothy smile that made her squint from how high it reached her eyes, her front baby teeth missing.

When she had her back turned to you two, she ran as fast as her chubby little legs could take her, and exclaimed, "Mommy! Mommy! That giant is a big and friendly one! A big, friendly giant. Can we go again, please? Please?"

It was only when you nudged König with your elbow, grinning, when she had skipped happily away, that he had realised he had tears in his eyes.

Moreover, maybe the memories König had of Halloween weren't so cheerful, or ones even worth remembering in the first place; after all, his childhood wasn't so cheerful. Joyless, and with little life.

But, with the way that Halloween was shaping up to be, he was already looking forward to the special celebration.

So full of life the you two were, you would laugh at the irony — animated and living the dream, while celebrating the day of the day. It brought you two to more laughter.

And, with you, König could make new ones, ones that you'd look back on fondly years from now, and those grueling months on deployment.

...

Note: Went off experience here for the beginning, guys🫡🫡 for the mowt part i have never celebrated Halloween😰 only a couple times in Poland, and once in England when i drank tomato juice and prwtended it was blood and i was a vampire🤪,

, but I Googled "Halloween in Austria" /Germany" to clarify whether I wasn't just speaking outta my ass and König here would have celebrated it differently to how I had in Poland 💀cuz, yknow, im not egocentric ajd the world doesnt celebrate things the same way Poles do 😘...

...And, no, I wasn't !☺️✨✨(... sort of😅... As far as I know, Germany has adopted the West's Halloween, ans theres pumpkin carving competitiomsn stuff, while Austria does indeed celebrate it slightly differently) .

Because I have no fuckijg idea of König's nationaloty anymore as it KEEOS CHANGING, I got the vest of both worlds 🥲🥲

Also been really busy guys😰😰😰by busy i mean stressing out ovee not writing then proceeding to NOT write bc im stressed❤️❤️🥰 you know jow it is!! 🤗(🔫) its ok tjo❤️(no it isnt) ill work tjis oit somejow🥹(no i wont im gonna kms) 🥰🥰

Have a very spooky halloween guys<3Feel bad foe those that are buying candy bc not onky is it smallwe than last uear but its more expensive 💔😟

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months

Note

5K! Wow, that's so incredible, and I'm so happy for you!!! Congratulations omg

I was wondering if I could request a drabble of Mr Soap MacTavish (2022) where the reader is fixing up his wounds, and he's just staring at the reader with the biggest heart eyes and that's when he says "I love you" for the first time???

—Heart-Eyes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Being a medic wasn't pretty, but when your boyfriend was the subject under your needle you can't help but enjoy his unwavering gaze. Today, he has something to share with you.] ❞

You sigh and slip on your sterile gloves, hearing the snap of the latex as they conform to your flesh in all of their blue, tight glory.

“I warned you they would pull,” your voice levels, exasperation making lines spring to life on your forehead and squiggle. “Do you ever listen to me?”

“Always, Dearie.” The Scot behind you holds a rag to his head, blood dripping off the corner and slipping down his arm. On his square face, he holds a small smirk. “Now, what I didn’t expect was a madman rushin’ me as he did—didn’t mean to rip all of your stitches, but I was more worried about the knife two inches from my damn eye, if ya understand.”

You fight down a smile, rolling your eyes before grabbing the handle of the utility cart and turning to face Johnny—raising a teasing brow in the process.

“I’m fond of my sutures, MacTavish. I hope you know that I’m highly offended right now.” Lips twitching, the mohawked man tilts his head, leaning against the examination table still in gear and with his free hand situated at his neck; handing off his vest’s collar.

“I’m sure there’s still at least one under here that’ll call to your expertise, Ma’am.”

“There better,” you mumble, fake glaring at your boyfriend of one year. He chuckles, reaching out a hand as you come near and drag your cart with you.

As if it’s a chore, you sigh loudly and let him bring you into his arms. Your grip wraps around his waist and you sag into the wide frame and his natural warmth—Johnny’s hand spans your back, firm as his thumb lightly moves up and down.

His sapphire blues soften as he stares down at you, stubble moving back in a smile. You rest your chin on his chest as he lightly presses the rag deeper into his forehead.

“It’ll scar,” you say slowly. “Especially if it got even more damaged by the fall.”

“Ah,” he whispers, breath hitting your head as your lashes flutter. Johnny’s chest grumbles with every word, accent deep and rich. “Think I’ll be just as handsome, then? That’s all that’s going to matter.”

You laugh at the exaggeration, lips peeling in a grin. “The most handsome, Johnny. It’s surprising that the entire world doesn’t stand still when you enter a room. Add in another face scar and people will faint when they come near.”

The Scot huffs, but a sheepish sheen splays over his cheeks, and a giddy smile grows when you call him handsome.

“Knew I wasn’t the only one that thought it.” Sharing a laugh, you pull back. The man pouts before you lightly hit his thigh with the back of your hand.

“Hey!” Johnny grunts out. “Watch the arm, Hen, it’ll leave a mark—”

You kiss him with a grin, feeling the man start forward to meet you with no hesitation and sigh deeply, stubble scratching against your skin in the most delicious way possible. His arm grabs onto your hip and the rag at his flesh loosens—the blood drip-drip-dripping as his fingers dig into your scrubs.

When his teeth nip your lip, you chuckle into his mouth and lean out of his hold to reach for your supplies. Johnny frowns in false disappointment but still yields to you when you carefully take away his soiled rag to stare at the damage.

A bloody mess of open skin forms a head wound that makes your face dip with seriousness. Humming in your throat, you lightly touch the area as Johnny winces. You utter an apology and kiss his hand as it comes up to brush at your cheek, unable to be away from you.

“Hm,” the Scot doesn't notice his flinch when you numb the area, the needle digging into the thin skin. All he sees is you.

“Bad?” He asks, letting you slant from in between his legs and grab the saline solution.

“Nothing you need to worry about, Big Guy.” Softly staring, you prep the area for sutures, oblivious to the pair of eyes that conform to a delicate roundness of tender affection. Like the contents of a great love poem of old, Johnny is distracted from the pain by your supple touch—breathing in your scent like a field of wildflowers as your body lay in his easy clutch.

Humming a tune under your breath, you let Johnny’s arms encase you, not minding the left-over blood he spreads as your needle driver moves a sterilized needle through lightly tanned flesh. Tissue forceps grab and manipulate where you see fit, but your attention is solely focused on getting your Lover better.

Johnny breathes deeply, barely feeling the pressure of the digging point. When you’re about halfway done, the man grunts out the easiest words he’s ever uttered to light.

“I love you, Little Lady.” Your eyes flash to a widened stare into his held skin, the needle poking out of his bloody mess of glistening redness.

It was no trial to anyone to see how much you two loved each other—the entire base was aware of your relationship; the other nurses relentlessly teased you when the only help Johnny would accept was from you or your head doctor. And the Scot had said multiple times the only reason that the doctor was in his book was that, if the injury was beyond what you were allowed to work on, you’d be unable to help unless the individual was there.

It was in the touches, the kisses filled with warmth and reverence—the way he looked at you. A blind man could notice it just by the way he talked about you on Leave if you weren’t able to join.

“She’d like that.”

“My Hen would lose her head over this; let me get a picture.”

“Hell’s bells, wait a moment—need to buy this for my Dearie. She’ll put it to good use.”

And you, of course, leaned into him with equal worship whenever able. Reveled in his great weight at night as his head rested on your stomach, Johnny’s body between your legs and lips muttering into your flesh in a deep sleep on his chest. Arms so tight around you his biceps would gain size as if he was flexing and not just pressing you up into him.

But this was the first.

The first confession. The first declaration of love.

You don’t know why, but saying it made it feel so much more real.

Your eyes slide to the side, looking into those deep blues with all of their loveliness; their hues and flecks of stars trapped like ocean waves dancing in moonlight. Wisps of stories you’d yet to uncover. Blinking, your expression evens out as the minute stretches—that look on the man’s face still staying.

You chuckle softly.

“Took you long enough, MacTavish.”

A breathless kiss. A shuttered exhale.

“...Then I’ll be sure to make you never doubt it.”

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird , @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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sukunasweetheart · 1 year

Text

man, im thinking about sucking sukuna off underneath a desk during an important meeting...

warnings; ceo sukuna, lots of teasing, degradation, rough throat fucking, hate?fucking, exhibitionism, throatpie (yay), implied rough sex at the end

you’re fondling and groping his cock over his pants until he gets hard, until you can see the visible bulge against the zipper, desperate to be let out. drag your fingertips down the still-clothed erection, making more precum leak out against his boxers. your hands do an excellent job at getting him all worked up.

once you’ve had enough of that, you then pull his zipper down, excruciatingly slow. you don’t want the others to hear anything, after all. once his cock is freed, you grin at its angry red tip and the bulging vein running along it. you palm sukuna’s heavy balls, playing around with them for a little before sucking them into your mouth. you’re painfully aware of how much he likes it when you use your mouth to warm them up. then, the tip of your tongue is dragged its way up, towards the head of his dick, where you lick off the pooling precum that’d been dripping since a while ago from his slit.

above the desk, sukuna looks perfectly professional, doing his part as the ceo during this meeting, only an occasional jerk of his hips that is barely noticeable. internally, he’s already making plans on how to punish you for this later.

going back down below - you’re now softly sucking on his tip only, purposefully keeping the rest of his erection out of its haven, that is, your warm throat. the tangy taste of his drooling arousal continues to disperse itself on the surface of your buds and you can’t get enough of it, continuing to roll your tongue around his cockhead, in the way that you know drives him mad.

his facial expressions and body language can put on a facade all they want. he can display his false exterior and keep his voice firm all he wants. but his dick can’t lie now, can it?

when you take your lips off of it, you see how his cock throbs uncontrollably, almost begging you to keep going, until it’s release. you just have to stifle a giggle and admire its honesty. you gently blow air against him, being the ultimate tease.

behind sukuna’s closed mouth, he’s gritting his teeth, his patience running dangerously thin.

you repeat this vicious cycle, taunting his dick with your soft, warm tongue, refusing to take him in any deeper, and then releasing his tip from your mouth when he’s close to cumming. this continues throughout the entire hour long meeting. it must be your imagination, but his balls seem a little heavier when you decide to give them another fondle a bit later.

towards the end, there’s a vein bulging out his forehead and an intimidating glare in his eyes. employees meekly trail out one by one, leaving the room in a hurry. sukuna orders uraume to lock the door on the way out. they don’t question the order, and does as they are told.

cut to the main event.

your hands are gripping, tugging at his clothes as sukuna fucks your throat raw. tears streaming, drool rolling down the corner of your mouth, you struggle to breathe as he mercilessly pushes past the back of your throat, balls hitting your chin lewdly.

“you’re a fucking whore, you know that?” he enunciates fiercely, meeting your eyes that still continue to somehow taunt him. you’re soaking wet down there.

the gurgling noises from your throat echo around the now empty meeting room, paired up with sukuna’s grunts and additional hisses of degradation. he loses a piece of his mind every time he feels you close up around him.

“you sure had your fun playing around with my cock for an hour straight. let’s see if you can handle the same from me,” he mutters, continuing to use you without break. he chases after his long awaited, well deserved release.

sukuna’s breathing quickens, and his grip on your hair tightens as he gets close to his orgasm. fuck, fuck, fuck, he repeats in his head. he hates you so fucking much. he hates how desperate you make him feel. he hates how you are both the cause and solution to his problems.

while thinking such thoughts, he cums down your throat with his head lolled back, pushing himself balls-deep into you. your eyes roll back as his piping hot spend passes through your insides, splashing into your stomach. you swallow around his cock and sukuna can’t stop his hips from jolting.

when he slowly pulls out, you’re finally able to take a full breath properly. but even with your ruined makeup and tearstained cheeks, your lips curl up into a sly smirk, like you were the one finally satisfied.

oh, just what is he to do with a minx like you? he’s gotten himself involved with a terrible, crazy succubus.

“fuckin’ hell. you actually enjoyed that, didn’t you? you slut.”

you nod at him innocently, smiling up at him, being all cute.

you attempt to stand, but your knees buckle from being on them for so long, and he has to catch you to stop you from falling back.

“you alright?” the question comes out before he can stop himself.

“no...i’m not,” you mumble lowly, getting him to raise an eyebrow at you.

you grab his hand and place his palm onto your abdomen.

“i need you here,” you tell him, blinking your doe eyes at him. “i thought you said you were going to see if i could handle the same?”

oh, for fuck’s sake.

something snaps inside him - and he’s already laying you across the desk, ready to pummel your fucking pussy.

he hates you so much.

(lies.)

Masterlist

#this is the 289739973th time im writing abt sukuna being sucked off tbh but i just cant stop myself sorry #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 1 month

Text

How About It, Agent Miller? | Lenny Miller x fem!reader

Summary: The year is 1988. The Cold War is well underway and tensions are slowly rising between the US and the Soviets. CIA Agent Miller isn’t threatened by the new young agent from the Soviet Union but she has a plan to get his attention, and to get even.

Warnings: Misogyny, violence, gun, kidnapping, restraints, dubious consent, noncon, smut, unprotected sex, edging, drugging.

word count: 4661k

Sympathy for the Devil- The Rolling Stones 🎶

Devils Haircut- Beck 🎵

You Know I’m No Good- Amy Winehouse 🎶

Movie: Anna (2019)

Please read warnings before continuing, thanks!

He thought this job was going to be simple, almost easy. She was working for East Germany, young, and new to her position; surely she wouldn’t be that difficult to eliminate. He’d been working for the CIA for nearly fifteen years at that point. He was one of the top agents and had orchestrated the downfall of many notable German and Soviet spies. To be fair, there had been that minor detail of receiving several severed heads from the KGB back in 1985 but that was all behind him now. They didn’t scare him now, and certainly, that twenty-something agent he’d heard so much about wasn’t about to make him lose sleep. In fact, he was looking forward to meeting her.

The girl in question was twenty-two and one of the deadliest spies to ever work for East Germany (the communist side). Y/N Y/L/N managed to slip past the CIA on multiple occasions, stealing out the backdoor or using false passports to get out of the country undetected. She’d made one mistake, however, and Agent Miller was quick to catch it. He rued the way she’d avoided detection for so long when it felt like it was all due simply to good luck. She didn’t seem especially smart or conniving, just pretty. It pissed him off. The mistake that Y/N had made was small, easy to look over, but Agent Miller was looking, and he found it.

Y/N tricked men around her to get information on the US. Once she’d get them alone, she drugged them, shot them, etc; anything to get them out of her way while she downloaded classified files from their computers. She had managed to steal these files before without leaving traces of her crime but low and behold, the last time she had removed the flash drive without ejecting it from the computer’s system. The computer held onto the flash drive's information and told Agent Miller exactly what the young woman was planning next. She’d been collecting information on nuclear weapons and international trade deals that the US was trying to keep hush hush. And for that reason, Agent Miller knew who she was going after next.

He straightened his striped blue tie and cleared his throat as he and his team crowded into the elevator. The men behind him carried larger guns and thick bulletproof vests, ready for whatever the girl threw at them. They’d followed her into a hotel in New York City, a place that felt too normal for the situation at hand. When the elevator doors opened with a soft whooshing noise, Agent Miller nodded his agents on, directing them to either side of the corridor. Quickly, they raided the hotel room belonging to the man they believed she had gone after that evening, but did not find her there. She was nowhere in the hotel. Agent Miller cursed beneath his breath and gritted his teeth. He knew his impatience was his worst quality and it only hurt him in these situations, but then again, the American government isn’t known for being very patient with communists…

Clenching and relaxing his jaw, Agent Miller went back down in the elevator with his men. They separated into groups in the lobby, each climbing back into the armored car sent by the CIA. Agent Miller waited behind, his cold eyes trained on the curb in front of the hotel. His car was separate from the others and would take him directly back to his office. A sharp wind ruffled his dark brown hair, displacing one strand into his face as his car pulled up to the curb. Agent Miller climbed into the dark backseat, the car door slamming closed beside him and a lock clicking into place. He looked up. The barrel of a pistol was pointed at his forehead. He froze.

“Hello, Agent Miller. Wie geht es Ihnen? I’m so glad we finally got a moment alone. I apologize for the circumstances but you know how the politics are these days… it’s so… toxic. Ja? Now, be a good boy and hand me the glock you have at your hip,” a young woman smiled on the seat beside him. She was wearing all black and blended in against the dark leather seats and tinted windows. Agent Miller frowned, his hands unmoving.

“That doesn’t seem fair, does it? You’re putting me at a disadvantage here.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself like that, Agent Miller. You and I both know what you’re capable of,” she chuckled mockingly but her sunglasses hid her true meaning. “Give me your gun, now.” Her voice was hard and cool like a porcelain plate, one of the perfect edges with a chip. Agent Miller raised his hand slowly and moved his jacket to the side, showing his holster. As soon as she had his gun in her hand she tapped the glass partition between them and the driver, signaling him to drive.

“Where are we going?” Agent Miller sighed calmly, leaning back against the seat. Y/N smiled, pleased at his temperament. It made things easier.

“One of my favorite places in New York City,” she answered with a smirk, a gun still trained at the man beside her though it had been lowered.

“And what kind of place could that be, god forbid?” Agent Miller asked rhetorically and looked over at the window beside him.

“The Plaza Hotel,” she answered slowly and shifted in her seat. Her pleated leather skirt shifted across her black stockings, showing more of her thigh, fleshy and round. Agent Miller noticed it and smirked, the comedy of the situation being too much for him to take seriously. The car stopped at the back of the hotel by the service entrance. Men exited out of the building and held a door open, waiting as Y/N escorted the CIA agent inside. Agent Miller followed her calmly as he searched for someone who could help him.

“No one’s here. It’s off-season,” she sighed lightly and pushed him into an elevator.

“It’s never off-season in New York,” Agent Miller raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Surprise, surprise.”

They took the elevator up to the top floor. Agent Miller’s hands began to sweat as he was led out of the elevator and around the corridor to a suite, separated from the others.

“You must get a good salary,” Agent Miller cracked as the woman jerked the gun towards the door of the suite. He kept his hands visible as he entered the room and looked around. The room was large and was actually made up of multiple rooms. In the center of the living room area, a chair had been left out.

“Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Bitte.” She had a way of talking that sounded like a purr but it was clear to Agent Miller that her words were more threatening than they sounded. Still, it was hard to take her seriously. It was hard to believe that this woman was the deadliest spy in East Germany.

“Danke schön,” Agent Miller muttered, his American accent muddling the German.

"Kannst du Deutsch sprechen, Herr Miller?” Y/N pretended to sound surprised as she closed and bolted the lock. “I’m flattered, really,” she smiled and removed her long black coat. Slowly she placed the coat on a couch’s arm and pulled off the blonde wig on her head, revealing her dark hair beneath which fell into a messy bob around her shoulders, over her dark mauve blouse. Last she removed her sunglasses and folded them neatly on her coat. Then she met his eyes.

“Nein? Well, then it's good I’m so fluent in English. You would never tell by my accent. At least, you didn’t the last time we met.”

“We’ve met before?” Agent Miller asked and shifted in his chair.

“Oh yes.” She smiled and dimples deepened on her cheeks.

An image came back to him, one of a young woman dropping a stack of manuscripts in the lobby of a hotel where they had been investigating the last crime scene. She’d been wearing a long brown wig and tortoiseshell glasses. She even had brown contacts in her eyes to hide her true eye color. He’d stopped to help her collect the manuscripts.

Oh gosh, thank you so much. So sorry about that. My boss is going to kill me. Thank you! She’d blushed as he handed her the papers. He’d met her before. She’d shown herself to him just to play with him. He scowled.

“Now I feel even more at a disadvantage.”

“How? After all, you’re the big-shot CIA agent, due for a promotion any day now… and I’m just a little girl. I don’t need any real smarts, not when I can just use my good looks to get what I want. Right, Agent Miller?” Her voice darkened as she finished, flashing with resentment. “You could fight me right now. It’s just the two of us. I’m surprised you didn’t. You’ve had ample opportunities to but you blindly follow my orders. It’s not that you’re scared to hurt me, you aren’t that sexist.”

“I don’t see the point of fighting when you’ve put so much work into getting me alone. I assume you have something to say.” Agent Miller swallowed, his cool facade slipping slightly as the woman approached him slowly.

“Aw how chivalrous of you! Oh, but what if I told you that I was only interested in getting you alone so that I could finally get even with you.” Y/N twirled the gun around her pointer finger and shifted it to his chest. He stiffened.

“Get even?”

“Settle the score,” she offered with a shrug.

“I don’t think I follow,” Agent Miller frowned warily.

“Then let me explain,” Y/N purred and with quick movements, she removed a pair of handcuffs from the back of her skirt and closed them tightly around both of his wrists, tying his hands around the back of the heavy chair. His eyes widened slightly when he realized what she had done.

“The fuck…” he started but she cut him off quickly.

“You didn’t think I could outsmart you or get the upper hand… you thought you could so easily catch me. And what a good job you’ve done!” She crossed her arms across her chest and set the gun down, smiling. Agent Miller averted his gaze, staring at the upper corner of the room. He clenched his jaw and struggled against the handcuffs for a brief moment.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Agent Miller?”

“Figured what out?” He snapped impatiently.

“I've been planning this for months. Do you really think I accidentally removed my flashdrive wrong, coincidentally leaving you all of the information that i’ve gathered since starting my mission? You’ve really underestimated me,” she clucked her tongue and kicked off her high heels, standing barefoot in her pantyhose on the dark pink shag carpet.

“I knew you’d find the mistake, I wanted you to. You did everything you were supposed to do, good boy,” she carded her fingers through his dark hair. The soft warm lighting in the room brought out the freckles across his pale face. Just as he started to turn his eyes to hers, she yanked his hair back so that he was looking up at her. “But how did this special agent who graduated from MIT of all places, end up in this position?”

“Did you do all of this just to show me how smart you are?” Agent Miller growled as she continued to pull at his roots.

“Something like that,” she smiled again, “I get off when men think they’re smarter than I am. I like proving them wrong… and then killing them.”

“Is that your plan for tonight?” He tried to keep a level voice as the smell of her perfume wafted down to his nose. She shook her head slightly and chuckled.

“You’ve been trained to resist torture, so there won’t be much that I can get out of you that way. And anyway, there isn’t much that I don’t already know.” She released her grip on his hair and stepped back. Y/N moved to the bar cart, stocked with crystal jars of whiskey and bourbon.

“So what are you going to do to me?” Agent Miller raised an eyebrow as he watched her pour a small glass of whiskey. She turned slowly and approached him again, swirling the whiskey in her glass. She raised the glass to his lips and poured it gently into his mouth. He parted his lips for her, his eyes trained on her face.

“Whatever I want,” she whispered and pulled the glass from his lips. Agent Miller raised his eyebrow, swallowing.

“Won’t your government disapprove?” He scoffed and shifted in the seat, calming himself down. His body was starting to get hot and his collar got tighter.

“Shhh,” she shushed him, a finger pressed against her own lips. Y/N approached him again and trailed one manicured finger from his arm to his hand. He shivered beneath her touch and his heart began to race. He felt his pulse in his stomach as she carded her fingers through his hair again, softer this time. She placed one knee on the chair between his thighs, pressing against his crotch. She tipped his head back with the edge of her nail beneath his jaw and leaned in close, exhaling beside his jaw. Seeing an opportunity, Agent Miller tried to kick her, jutting his knee up because it wasn’t restrained. She stopped him quickly, forcing him back into the chair, not missing a beat. His breath caught in his throat and he nearly choked on it. Her hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed but not harshly. His skin was warm beneath her hand and she smiled, her white teeth flashing.

She pressed her knee sharply into his thigh, holding his leg down, and slid it closer to the top of his crotch. She chuckled softly when she felt the outline of his cock inside his pants with the side of her thigh. Agent Miller’s body tensed below her, his hands folding into fists as he exhaled sharply.

“Aw does this hurt?” She cooed as she dug her knee further into the flesh of his thigh. His jaw tightened as she teased him. Moving closer, she rested both knees between his thighs, forcing them against the arms and pinning them in place. Suddenly she was so close and her thighs were pressing against his stomach…

How was it that he was getting an erection from this shit-show? How could she get this reaction out of him so fucking quickly? He tried to even out his breath as she shifted in the seat, her hands trailing up his chest to the knot of his tie.

“What did you drug me with?” Agent Miller muttered. Strands of her hair brushed against his cheeks.

“You don’t have to resist it, Agent Miller.” She ran her hands down his sides beneath his dark blue suit jacket. His body was full and firm, and warm. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she whispered against his forehead.

“What did you put in my drink…” he repeated, his voice wavering in strength as her hand moved down his stomach to the front of his pants. His erection was pronounced and visible, pushing against the fly of his trousers. She must have given him something, something to get this response. He wasn’t even that turned on. He sighed, frustrated and mad. He turned his head to the side, avoiding her soft lips.

“You think I have to drug you to get this kind of response? Silly boy,” she slid off of his lap and sat on the edge of the couch in front of him. She crossed her legs at first and allowed her eyes to trail up his body like a man would to a woman. Agent Miller stared back, his blue eyes hard. She giggled and reached up her skirt, hooking her hands under her pantyhose and pulled it down her thighs. She rolled the pantyhose slowly down her calves and slipped it off her feet. Despite his best efforts, Agent Miller watched her closely, studying the way she pushed the pantyhose to the side with her foot.

“I prefer genuine responses, it helps with my ego,” she broke the silence and watched with a sly smile as Agent Miller swallowed. With a sigh she stood and leaned over the CIA agent, her hands gripped around the arm rests. “Are you embarrassed? The high and mighty CIA agent succumbing so quickly to someone like me?” She teased him sharply, a glint of malice behind her bright eyes. “Tell me, Agent Miller. You’re thinking about me… you want me to touch you more. You want to see what I could do to you.”

Agent Miller cocked his head slightly and sighed, pretending to be disinterested. Y/N grabbed his face, her fingers digging into either side of his jaw. When she kissed him, he exhaled, almost relieved. He kissed her back, forgetting himself and liking the way she tasted, the way her lips felt in his mouth. She pulled his face closer to hers, still hovering above him. She kissed him feverishly and he followed blindly, distracted by the pleasure found in each movement her lips made against his. Then as quickly as it had started, she pulled away and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Some of her lipstick was smudged across his mouth but he couldn’t tell. He was breathing heavily, his lips pulled apart so that he could catch his breath. She took a few steps back and grabbed a file from a nearby table. She flipped it open and turned the pages until she landed on the right one. She held the folder open in one hand and with the other she began to unbutton her blouse from the top down.

Agent Miller felt his cock throb as he watched her shrug off the silky blouse and drape it over the arm of the couch. When she turned he could see her black t-shirt bra fitted perfectly against her breasts. Her collarbones rose and fell as she breathed and Agent Miller nearly groaned. She read aloud from the file as she moved back to the chair.

“My records tell me that the last number of confirmed nuclear weapons in the American arsenal was 27,000. It’s been half a decade since that information was released to the Soviet Union. What is that number now?” She straddled his lap slowly, smoothing out her skirt over their legs. Agent Miller moved his eyes from her breasts to her face, trying to keep his face straight as he felt the woman’s hand unbuckle his belt.

“I can’t tell you that,” he managed as she played with the zipper of his fly, her fingers dancing over the hard bulge.

“Has the number grown?” She offered and slid her hand below his waistband. Her hand grazed the patch of his pubic hair before she reached his cock. He shivered and looked up at the ceiling of the hotel room. “More?” She asked softly as she wrapped her fingers around his erection, it was hot and wet in her hand. He was so sensitive already that he groaned softly when she touched him. She squeezed him softly and freed the hard length from his pants. She rubbed her hand up and down. Agent Miller panted softly as she masturbated him. His eyes snapped open and he watched her, their eyes locked.

“Has the number changed?” She asked again softly as the agent clenched his jaw.

“I can’t tell you that,” He fought the words out as her hand sped up.

“Are there less? Has the US been involved in a trade agreement for its nuclear weapons?” She pushed, her hand moving faster.

“Fuck…” Agent Miller panted as her grip tightened around him. His cheeks deepened with color and his chest shook as his climax built. Just as he felt like he was about to cum, Y/N pulled her hand away and clucked her tongue.

“You’re going to make this very hard on yourself,” she observed and smiled as she watched him pant. He was completely erect beneath her skirt, resting against her bare thigh. They stared at each other as he caught his breath. She snapped the folder closed and tossed it to the side, sighing impatiently.

“Who has the US traded with in the past year?” She asked, her hands holding his thighs down.

“That is public information. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

“I want you to tell me about the trade deals you haven’t made public,” she loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons. “Which countries have illegal trade agreements with the US?” She added before kissing his neck, sucking on the soft flesh until she started to make hickeys. With her freehand she held his cock still as she lowered herself onto his head. She moved her hips slowly up and down and pulled away to look at his face. His adam's apple quivered in his throat as she moved on top of him.

“I-I can’t-fuck,” he gasped softly as she started to shift her hips over his lap, taking him deeper, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Come on, Agent Miller,” she whispered against his ear, “be a good boy for me,” she smirked. “Does it feel good? Is this harder than torture?” She teased him as her hips sped up, rocking back and forth. Agent Miller moaned softly as she held his face to face her. His mouth was agape in pleasure as she began to bounce slightly, falling hard on his cock. He grunted as she went faster, moaning theatrically against his lips which she refused to kiss.

“Do you want to cum, Agent Miller?” She whispered against his lips, her tongue touching his bottom lip with a flourish.

“Fuck…” he panted again.

“Can you cum for me?” She purred and Agent Miller nodded weakly, his eyes now closed. She smiled and pretended to pant, coaxing another deep moan from the man’s throat. “Has the US been sending nuclear weapons to West Germany?” She asked, raising herself up and holding him inside her. He weakly tried to thrust but she held him down.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his brows furrowed in frustration.

She snapped her hips down, taking him in again and hugging his cock. He gasped as his stomach tightened. He was going to cum.

“Has the US been sending nuclear weapons to West Germany?” She repeated sternly, not moving on his cock as the wave of climax started to dissipate again.

“I can’t fucking tell you that-fuck,” he growled when she moved her hips very slowly.

“But you can tell me, Agent Miller, and if you do, I’ll let you cum,” she stroked his cheek and kissed his jaw feverishly. “I want you to cum. Fuck, I want you to cum inside me too.” She whispered against his neck. When he resisted saying anything she pulled herself off and backed away towards the bed in the room beside them. Agent Miller watched her, his chest rising and falling quickly. Still watching him, she slid her leather skirt off, showing that she had no underwear on underneath. He felt like he might explode just by the sight of her.

“Jesus…” he groaned and let his head fall back against the back of the chair. He couldn’t help himself but look back as she undid her bra and dropped it to the floor. Standing completely naked, she laid back on the bed and propped herself up on her elbows.

“If you won’t cum, I’ll just have to finish myself off,” she sighed and trailed her fingers up her thigh to her cunt, wet from sex. “It just never feels as good.” She rubbed her fingers over her clit over and over again until she felt an orgasm grow. She curled her toes and bit her lip, grinding against her own hand. Agent Miller knew that he could look away but the scene was just too much to ignore. He watched as she arched her back and twisted her hips, reacting to the sensitivity of her clit. Her eyes danced below her eyelids as she thought up fantasies to fuel her climax. Rubbing harder, she started to moan softly and quivered. Agent Miller pulled at the handcuffs, struggling to remain calm as he watched her touch herself. As her orgasm finally arrived, she collapsed back onto the mattress and caught her breath.

“Enough,” Agent Miller sneered from the chair, still erect and horny. “At least get me out of these so I can fuck you the right way.”

Y/N smiled and hopped off of the bed, her tits bouncing slightly as she did.

“You want to fuck me, Agent Miller?” She leaned close to his face again. He stared back at her, his jaw set.

“Let’s get it over with,” he answered nonchalantly and she tilted his jaw up but didn’t kiss him. She undid the handcuffs around his wrists and he sprang to his feet, grabbing at her body. He kissed her feverishly, lapping at her mouth with his tongue hungrily. She pushed off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt as he slipped off his shoes and pants. They didn’t have time to remove his shirt before he entered her. He took hold of her hips to pull her closer and wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her close to his chest. She clawed her hands down his dress shirt, her knees high on either side of his waist. She moaned loudly and he studied the way she opened her mouth to do it, mesmerized by the way she reacted to him inside of her.

“Good boy,” she praised him when he sped up, hitting her G-spot. She reached her hand down between their bodies and rubbed at her clit, coaxing a stronger orgasm.

“Don’t touch yourself,” Agent Miller ordered, short of breath, “let me do it.” He massaged her clit himself, his large hands covering the front of her cunt. Her mouth fell open into a loud gasp as he synchronized his thrusts to the way he rubbed her clit.

“Fuck,” he exhaled tightly as he felt her flex around him.

“Keep going,” she wrapped her fingers around his neck and pulled him closer to her face, their mouths exchanging exhales, “fuck me right.”

He kissed her deeply as he moaned, the muscles in his back tightening beneath her nails. She was so tight and wet, he nearly came just thinking about it as he moved. She carded her fingers through his hair and pulled as he chased their peaking climax. He was grunting now as she began to finish around him, shaking without much control. He moved his hands back to her hips and rocked himself deep inside of her as he brought on his orgasm. He came inside of her with loud grunts, thrusting until he’d finished completely. Only when he was done did he pull out and collapse beside her on the elegant duvet. He panted loudly, exhausted. They remained in silence until Y/N rolled over, putting her lips close to his ear.

“You know, I didn’t have to ask you all those questions. I already know the answers.” Her voice was serious and cold, Agent Miller eyed her.

“Then why did you ask?”

“I wanted to see you tied down,” she answered calmly. He raised his eyebrow and scoffed just before the sting of a cold, sterilized needle pinched his neck. Then he quickly went to sleep.

When he awoke, he found himself alone in the hotel room. Everything had been returned to normal and the place scrubbed for fingerprints. And she was gone. She’d gotten away again.

#lenny miller #cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #fanfiction #cillian murphy x reader #cillian fanfic #cillian x y/n #cillian x reader #smut #Anna #agent miller #long reads #1980s #fem!reader

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1-800-imagines · 5 months

Text

red dress. | rafe cameron

part 1

set in season 3, episode 1! part of this is literally the scene word for word with dialogue LOL

you had been manhandled all the way into your house and ushered upstairs before you could even really get a good look. an armed guard had left a hand print on your arm from him gripping you. once you were finally in the room and he let you go, you just scoffed, "great manners."

he showed no emotion and just said, "dinner at eight. I'd clean up."

"can't you just tell me what I'm here for?" you said in a frustrated tone. after he just closed the door. you tried the handle and groaned - it was locked.

the bedroom was nice and had everything you would need including multiple of the same red dresses in different sizes with a note that said - pick your size.

after a while, you decided to put it on - not wanting to piss off whoever was keeping you captive. you were sitting on the bed, dressed way too fancy for a dinner downstairs when there was a knock and then the door opened and a woman stepped inside, "he's ready."

you followed her out of the bedroom and down the stairs, trying to get a glimpse of anything that might be useful for an escape.

the woman showed you into the dining room and you looked around, spotting a man with a buzz cut standing with his back towards you. he was pouring a drink - most likely liquor. "hey - uh," you said unsure what to say to your potential captor.

your heart flipped when the man turned around. it was rafe. it was your fucking ex-boyfriend.

rafe's eyes lingered on your body, scanning you up and down as he saw you. it was like his brain hadn't fully processed who you exactly were.

"you're fucking involved in this shit? what? did you have your dad kidnap me so i'd be forced to talk to you??" your tone was harsh. you hadn't spoken to rafe since you broke things off and jumped off the ship with john b and sarah, obviously picking their side. it had broken your heart to do it but what rafe tried to do to sarah - that wasn't the man you loved.

"what the hell are you talking about? why are you here anyway? trying to fuck up my deal?" rafe said gruffly while walking towards you.

"I wondered if your little reunion would cause sparks, you know." said a voice from the other room. your attention snapped towards the other man.

"who are you?" rafe asked, his tone shifting and his body moving closer and in front of yours.

"me? my name is carlos singh. it's a pleasure to meet you, mr. cameron," your stomach dropped at the fact that the unknown man knew rafe by name.

"and ms. y/l/n, I do apologize for the rough tactics to bring you in today." as mr. singh said that, rafe's eyes scanned over your body, his teeth gritting when he noticed the bruises on your arm. "come, I don't bite." he continued, turning on his foot to go into the other room.

before you could follow, rafe blocked the entrance and whispered, "did he hurt you?" his hand brushed against your arm.

"I'm fine rafe, but I want to leave here - like now." you said softly and continued to walk into the next room.

you could tell rafe wanted to kill the man for anyone putting his hands on you, but now wasn't the time. "rough tactics? what about me then?" rafe was seething and after every sentence his jaw clenched harder.

"yes, mr. cameron, false pretenses for you, but the ends justify the means, I'm afraid."

---

after sitting through singh's speech about what he wanted, him interrogating you about the diary, which you had denied knowing its whereabouts vehemently, he had walked you and rafe back to the room where you had been held earlier.

after opening the door, singh then threatened the two of you with only having one day to tell him where the diary was and that there was going to be a demonstration at the window. and with that, he left the door locking behind him.

while rafe banged on the door, you walked over to the window and pushed the curtains out of the way. rafe joined you, "who the hell is that guy?"

"he's the guy that got us off the island." you murmured, "his name is jimmy portis. he was trying to help me." your stomach dropped, yet again, when singh pulled out his gun as he looked up at the window towards you and rafe.

you and rafe both jumped when the gun fired and you turned instinctively into his chest. his arms wrapped around you and he put his face against your forehead. he put one hand in your hair on the back of your head to pull you closer.

"baby, I need to know, the diary, do you have it?" he asked, pulling away and tilting your face up towards him.

you hadn't even realized that he had called you baby at first, but there were bigger things than that going on so you just shook your head no, which was the truth, and said, "no I don't have it."

rafe nodded and kissed your forehead, "I'm so sorry. for everything."

comment if you want to be tagged for this fic OR my obx tag list in general!!

keep an eye out for part 2 where it's the rest of their night!!!!

#outerbanks #obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx season 3 #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks fic #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

Text

𝑩𝑼𝑹𝑵 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑴𝑬

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, angst, dark fic

word count: 3.5k

summary: joel looks after you, provides for you, fucks you until the sun comes up; his only ask is that you never leave his apartment, not willing to face another loss. One day when you find the door unlocked, you decide to take stroll, promising yourself that you'll be back before he returns home.

warnings: canon typical violence, possesive!joel, dark!joel, willing captivity, stockholm syndrome, fear kink, dubious consent, rough sex, piv, mention of fingering, mention of oral, physical assault from a stranger, choking, spanking, thigh fucking, creampie

thank you to @inklore who I have been screaming about joel endlessly and helped me come up with this idea and thank you to my brainwave twin @pedrito-friskito for beta-ing ❤️❤️❤️

The air is a warm caress to your skin.

You feel the flickers of amber licking where your skin shows, the smell of coal and wood heavy. Your nostrils burn at the smell. Your eyes dart around, heart fluttering in your chest in a similar fashion to a curious child. You don’t remember how long it’s been since you’ve been outside of the confinements of Joel’s apartment.

He found you on the brink of death, skin cut up and torn by hunters. You shudder when you remember how effortlessly he scooped you up, swearing never to let you out of his sight. He brought you back to his apartment, cleaned your wounds. You thought he was joking—but he wasn’t. Joel kept you locked up; loving you, providing for you, and reading to you behind closed doors. You were his secret, the embodiment of all the things he missed and craved to feel under his hands once more.

You never said a word. After being shattered and put back by the world over and over it felt good to be looked after. For someone else to think about your well-being without you having to. Your mind screamed at you in your dreams. It whispered that you should leave, escape, that this wasn’t a life to live and that you were a prisoner to the whims of a broken man.

But how could you listen to reason when he filled you up so beautifully?

It was as if he hears your mind racing at night, dragging you away from thoughts by pressing his fingers into you, stroking you until you woke with a cry of pleasure. You would open your eyes to the oddest of hours, either with the hardness of his cock or the sensual glide of his tongue—it didn’t matter, your body would forever crave him, this much you knew.

You don’t think much when you notice that Joel forgot to lock the main door. Pulling on your boots, you slip outside, curious what the world had become while you were drowning in the blissful ignorance he provided. Joel never allowed you to leave, even with him by your side.

You kick a small rock, watching it skip ahead with an almost bored look. It doesn’t take you long to realize that the world is still deep in shit, maybe even more so since Joel took you in. There are more soldiers, more bodies burning, warming the sky. It makes you sick, your stomach rolling uncomfortably as bile raises up your throat and stings your tongue.

“Haven’t seen you before, you lost sweetheart?”

You flinch at the voice. Slowly turning, you see a man with dirty blond hair and an equally dirty beard, he grins at you with yellow teeth. He takes a step forward and you take a step back, you feel your pulse in your throat.

“Don’t be afraid,” he purrs, crowding your personal space with two easy steps. “Why don’t you come with me? We could have some fun. You look lonely,”

“Well, I’m not,” you snap with falsely found confidence. “Leave me alone,”

He clicks his tongue, an ugly snarl curling over his lips. “Such a big mouth on such a pretty thing…I’m not sure I like that,”

A chill settles at the bottom of your spine. You feel two others rounding you, scowling as they circle you like vultures. You swallow, your demeanor softening at the nearing threat.

“I’m not alone,” you croak. “Let me go please,”

The man seems pleased by this. He mulls over what you said, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. With a tilted head he approaches, fingers brushing your cheek.

“I think you’re mistaken,” he hums. “You’re alone, and we’re here to keep you company.”

When the same fingers that touch your cheek move to trace your lips, you bite. Your teeth sink into the boney flesh, hard enough to draw blood, he scurries back with a shout. The other two move forward, and one grabs your nape. “You bitch—” he hisses into your ear.

“Let me go!” you struggle, eyes darting around in hopes to see a god-forsaken soldier but they were none. “Fuck—”

You hurl forward with a punch to your stomach, you nearly empty your stomach all over the concrete. Saliva fills your mouth and you swallow. You feel a painful tug on your hair as your head is forced back. The face of the blond man comes into view, he growls. “You’re gonna fucking regret that,”

Bare knuckles clashes angrily against your cheekbone— again and again. You taste blood. You spit. Between squinted eyes you see red coloring cold gray, your tongue swipes over your bottom lip, tracing the slash your teeth made into it.

“We could’ve had a fun time,” the man mutters. Another blow to your face follows, your eye already feels swollen. “But I don’t feel that charitable anymore.”

Before being buried in darkness, the last thing you think of is Joel. You never should’ve left.

You wake to a gentle touch—two calloused hands cradling your face, thumbs tracing smoothing lines down your face. Your vision is blurred and you can barely see, but the silhouette in front of you is familiar, it smells of home.

“Joel?” you call out wincing at the dryness of your voice. “Is that you?”

Your right eye throbs painfully, warm to the touch, pounding like a beating heart. Joel lets out a breath of relief, his head dropping between his shoulders.

“Thank god,” he mutters, he hooks his arms under your waist and knees, lifting you up from the cold concrete. “What the hell were you thinkin’?”

Warm tears roll down your face and you sniffle, the salt burns your skin. “I’m sorry, Joel,” you whisper. “It—It hurts,”

“I know baby, I know,” he huffs, steps now moving hastily. “I’m going to patch you up, then I’m going to find the fucker who did this to you, alright? Don’t worry. I got you, you’re good, you’re okay…”

You slip in and out of consciousness on the way back home, and when you finally find yourself leaning into the comfort of the couch, you’re still not quite sure what happened.

Joel gently presses a wet rag against your eye. He cleans the caked blood on your lips and the rest of your face. He’s not the best at hiding his anger, with every swipe of fabric, you feel rage curling angrily in his belly. You refuse to look at him. Too afraid that as soon as you make eye contact he’s going to scold you.

Not addressing it makes it worse. Joel grunts, a string of curses following after every dab against your skin.

Suddenly his hand falls to his knee, “Look at me.” he commands and you do. With his flared nostrils, he glares at you, hot iron pressing into your skin. “Why did you leave?”

The skin over his muscles is drawn taut when he asks. You blink quickly, nose wrinkling with the stabbing pain spreading through your swollen eye.

“I was curious,” you say quickly. “I was going to come back but they jumped me—”

“Do I not fuckin’ give you everything?” he shoots up to his feet, startling you. His voice trembles. “I cook for you, feed you, take care of you, and—and you leave?!”

You open your mouth to speak but as soon as you do something whirs past your head and shatters against the wall. Shards of glass sprinkle down the couch. With wide eyes you turn back to look at Joel, he’s hysterical, pacing back and forth, crimson red crawling up from his neck to his cheeks.

“You could’ve fuckin’died if I didn’t find you in time—” he stops, eyes finding yours. He takes a sharp breath and makes his way back to you, sitting on the coffee table. “Fuck look at you. You’re trembling. I’m sorry, I would never hurt you. I was just scared, I can’t bare the thought of losing you,”

Joel pulls you so you’re straddling his lap, large palm cradles the back of your head while the other lays on your waist. You wrap your arms around him, nails digging into the soft fabric of his flannel. Your chest heaves as you try to breathe, your chest aches. You never wanted to hurt him, or get hurt for that matter. Your body feels on the verge of splitting into two, the physical and emotional pain like knives digging into your skin.

“Can you tell me who did this?” he mutters, his voice a low rasp. “Do you know who they are?”

You shake your head as you describe the blond man and his ugly snarl. You tell Joel what the stranger said to you, how many there were of them. His fingers twitch, searing anger floods through his veins.

“I’m going to take you to bed now. I want you to rest,”

“Don’t go,” you squeal. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Just worry about yourself. I’ll be right back, promise.”

Right after the door shuts, a jingle of keys and a loud lock echoes in the small apartment. Joel rattles the door for good measure, checking that it’s properly locked just in case you would think of going out again. Not that you would. You don’t even remember why you wanted to leave so badly in the first place.

You’re not sure how much time passes. You flinch at the sound of the door slamming shut, your curious gaze flicks to the entrance of the bedroom. You’re surprised when Joel staggers through the door, his hand holding the nape of the man who attacked you. The man is heavily bruised, bleeding with a limp to his step.

You feel a mixture of relief and shock, your mouth opens and closes right after, not knowing what to say.

“Is this the fuckhead who bruised you?” Joel spits, shaking the man. The blond whines and gives you a pleading look. You stay silent. Joel asks again, louder this time. “Is this him? Answer me.”

Goosebumps trail over your skin, it’s like needles stabbing into your skin. The man turns white, struggling in Joel’s grasp but there’s no escape for him.

You look down, hugging your knees close to your chest, “Yes,” you whisper.

A gunshot. A thud.

With a sharp gasp, you cover your ears and squeeze your eyes shut. You breathe heavily through your nose—in and out, you try to focus on the way your lungs expand with oxygen. Joel shot him. He actually fucking shot him, tears overflow your lash line. You tremble uncontrollably, your palms clammy and cold with sweat.

The bed dips and you feel fingers circling your wrists. Joel pulls your hands down to your stomach, still holding you as his eyes trace the tear streaks going down your face. His fingers tighten, blunt nails scratching skin.

“He hurt you,” he states, no emotion to his voice. “Don’t feel bad for him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“I didn’t want you to kill him,” you answer slowly.

“I know. You’re too good for that, too pure,” he cups your cheek, fingers dropping to hold the point of your chin. “I hope you understand now. There ain’t no limits when it comes to you, I would rather watch the world burn,”

It’s hard to focus on what he’s saying when there’s a dead body laying on the floor. You sniffle and rub your nose with the back of your hand. He smiling now, a gentle smile. You’re not supposed to mimic the expression but you do, a soft tug at the corner of your lips. Your heart swells.

“That’s my girl,” he muses, the pad of his thumb following the seam of your lips. “I would kill a thousand more to see that smile,”

You part your lips, allowing him to slip his finger in between them. He groans when your swirl your tongue, sucking him deeper. He shifts on the bed, cock uncomfortably straining against his jeans. He removes his finger and pulls at your bottom lip. Your eyes meet.

He’s dangerous, you remember suddenly. The words that were uttered to bring out sympathy bring out fear instead; the lengths he’d go to keep you safe, the promise of more lifeless bodies made as an offering to you. However, that’s not the only thing that makes you shudder. It’s the fact that you enjoy it. Joel protects you from the darkness, a beacon of violently bright light. He’s something that you never thought you’d have.

A protector.

You say nothing when he pushes you down onto your back. He strips you slowly, heavy fingers tracing every inch of your naked body. Joel remains clothed, only his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped. You feel like a piece of art that he’s only allowed to touch. The same fingers that pulled the trigger brush the swell of your eye, still pulsing under his touch.

His lips find yours in a frenzy. The moment of softness gone, leaving only hunger and need in its wake. You feel the clash of teeth, the lick of his tongue. The cut on your lip stings when he nips your bottom lip, you gasp, the blossoming pain forcing your hips up to grind up against him.

He growls into your mouth and you swallow the sound. Blindly you reach out and pull his hand to your throat, a plea falling from your lips as you beg him to squeeze. He does so with little objection. His thumb smooths over your pulse, feeling it before starting to block the airflow. Your eyes water and a choked moan rips from your throat. Joel shimmies down, brushing his lips down your breasts and drawing a stiff nipple into his mouth. He nips at the stiff peak and flicks his tongue.

Arousal pools between your legs, cunt dripping and leaving the inside of your thighs wet. He presses two fingers against your clit, a wave of pleasure hits you unexpectedly, you claw at his wrist but he doesn’t loosen his grip, instead, he tightens his hold.

“You’re never gonna attempt that shit again are you?” he mutters, inhaling your scent. “Don’t force me to do anything I’ll regret, little bird,”

You feel incredibly cold, the words spoken chill you from the inside out, an icy exterior forming around your skin. But your body reacts independently from the fear. Your breathing hitches, eyes rolling back as your heat chases the pads of his fingers. Joel cups your sex and roughly grinds his palm into your clit, you let out a muffled cry You feel your eyes starting to bug out.

“I can’t lose anyone else.” your vision starts to fade to black, you can’t breathe. Joel mouths your other nipple, the tip of his tongue drawing soft circles. “I need you to understand that. The only thing you need to fear is what I’m willing to do to keep you with me.”

You wheeze and your lips go numb, your nails start to tear away at his skin.

A sharp sting blossoms over your chest, more slick drips from your pussy, he teeths at your nipple again and again, not stopping until your panicked whimpering becomes breathless moans.

You’re not sure what prompts him to do it but he finally lets go of your throat, the sudden flood of oxygen makes your head spin.

“Turn over.”

With wobbly arms and legs, you oblige. The rough fabric of his jeans scrapes the back of your thighs, he thrusts forward, pushing his shaft between your legs and coating it with the arousal gathered between your legs. His fingers brush your neck, tracing where he squeezed earlier. Instead of flinching you lean into his touch, aching to feel the warmth of his bare skin.

He continues to glide his cock between your wet folds, his breathing heavy, he stuffs his fingers into your mouth. You lick eagerly, your walls clenching around nothing. The warm fan of his breath tickles your damp skin, tongue tracing down your shoulder blades.

“J-Joel— please,”

“You think you deserve my cock?”

Your vision dotted, a whine falls from your parted lips. You push back into him. He moans into your skin, nipping over your spine. His hand slices through the air, delivering a sharp hit to the meat of your ass. You cry out and bite the inside of your cheek.

“I have half a mind to fuck your thighs and leave you wantin’” his chest heaves. “Especially after the scare you gave me,”

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup. “I really am. I just wanted to look around. I-I never wanted to leave, just needed some air,”

Your pleas are followed by his sigh, he sounds exasperated but his voice softens nonetheless. He soothes the pain by kneading you like dough. “How about we go out every Friday?”

You shake your head, trembling when the head of his cock catches against your clit. “I don’t want to—’Just want you,”

“Is that so,” he hums, nodding. “Good. Maybe you really did learn your lesson,”

“I did, sir. Please,”

“Fuck, I love hearin’ you beg sweetheart,” he says, delivering a particularly hard thrust between your legs. You keen at the drag of his cock, head falling back with a moan. “Beg me for it.”

“Please,” you whimper. “Please, sir. I need it so bad. I want your big fat cock,”

Joel visibly shudders at that, he takes a fistful of your hips and grinds into you. Harder, faster, his cock throbs, balls draw tight. You’re so fucking wet, drooling all over him. He sucks a sharp breath and buries himself into you with one smooth movement. Your pleas rise into a high-pitched whimper.

The warm heat of your cunt is indescribable. Momentarily he forgets everything; the outbreak, the dead body he needs to dispose of— all of it gone in a blink of an eye. And it’s all thanks to your sweet pussy.

Joel holds you down, his grip like iron as he pounds into you with hard strokes. You scream but make no sound, your body nothing but a toy for him. Feeling the soft, dark curls that fill the space above his cock gives you a sense of adrenaline and need. Your eyes pinch close, the pillow rubbing your skin raw. Your back arches to support the way he’s tearing you into half, hips lifting up toward him more.

He smacks you again, the muscle under his heavy palm rippling at the strike. But the pain is welcome, shooting down your back and to your core. You cry out for him, thanking him for fucking you, the words awaken something animalistic in him. Joel moves punishingly, a stark reminder that he’s still angry with you. He jackhammers his hips down into your body.

He slams his hips, hoarse groans attached to the beating sound of him hard against your ass. Sweat beads at his tailbone, trickling down his tanned skin.

Forgiveness comes in the form of him trailing open-mouthed kisses across the blades of your shoulders, the trickle of his hair sends goosebumps up your body as he moves. You hear him growl through gritted teeth, your stomach goes taut, legs tense. Joel moves, rocking in and out of you. He knocks the air from your lungs.

Joel hits that deep soft spot inside of you, stroking over it with the drag of his cock again and again. You feel your skin prickle, your core sucking him needily. You scream in the plush of the pillows, he reaches down and pulls you up so he can see your face, even if it’s from the side.

“Look at you,” he says, southern drawl thick. “So cock drunk. Good–fucking–girl,”

Your eyes roll back when he grinds against the deep, soft spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You forget about the swell of your eye, the cut on your bottom lip. His thighs shake as he holds you in place, feeling you squeeze his cock in a way that promises to milk him dry.

Joel empties himself into you with short, hard thrusts of his hips that your pussy pulls and pulls, throbbing around him. He pulls out, strings of slick stretching between your sweaty bodies. You’re all shiny and swollen, glistening with remnants of him and you. You collapse to your side, breathing heavily. You gasp when he affectionately swats your ass.

“I’m going to take care of a couple things now,” he rasps, addressing the elephant (body) in the room. “Stay put. Don’t go anywhere. My forgiveness is not a cheap thing, bird.”

When you nod, he leans over you and presses his lips to your temple.

You don’t look when Joel drags the body of the man who assaulted you out of the room. You don’t think of the outside when you hear the familiar locking of the door.

Pleasure still buzzes in your veins, your head floating above it all. You stretch and smile lazily. You wrap yourself with a blanket, ignoring Joel’s seed still dripping down your thighs.

Sleep is soon to take you, your dreams limited to the inside.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x ofc #joel miller x f!reader #dark!joel miller #hbo the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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angelltheninth · 1 year

Text

The Mirror Effect

Pairing: Yuuji Itadori x Fem!Reader x Ryomen Sukuna

Tags: nsfw, smut, established relationship, semi-public sex, fingering under the table, cunnilingus (via Sukuna's hand-mouth), bathroom sex, dirty talk, kind of threesome, mirror sex, name-calling, encouragement, gentle!Yuuji, rough!Sukuna

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: This has been on my mind for such a long time, I finally sat down and wrote it.

Celebrating with your boyfriend and friends seemed to be a good way to unwind after a mission gone well. You sat next to Yuuji of course, your legs touching his under the table, watching as he, very energetically and animatedly recounted the details of the mission to Gojo.

You thought nothing of it when his hand landed on your thigh, lightly rubbing up and down in a soothing manner. He was very hands with you pretty often, not at all holding back on showing his affections with gestures small and big. This... was not that, as you find out when you feel his hand go under your skirt and into your underwear.

The sound that leaves you is a shocked gasp, which you manage to mask with a cough when heads turn your way. Yuuji turns too but only smiles at you, "Take it easy babe, don't take more then you can swallow." Good advice but with his fingers secretly playing with you cunt it has a bit of a different meaning.

No, not only his hand, a warm, long, wet tongue that flicks over your clit, exposing it to greedy lips that wrap around it. Your eyes widen in alarm, but Yuuji doesn't move his hand away, no he curls his fingers and pushes then inside of you, not moving them at all, just giving your pussy walls something to squeeze around while Sukuna works your clit in long licks and hard sucks.

"You okay babe? You look a little flustered." Yuuji turns to you, his expression that of worry, false worry, he knows exactly what he's doing, what they are doing. As you try to answer him Sukuna's teeth press against your clit and the only sound that leaves is a needy whine, mistaken for that of pain by everyone other then Yuuji. The sorcerer in training moves his hand away and lays it on your lower back. "You're not looking so hot. Come with me, I'll walk you to the bathroom okay? Maybe splashing some water on your face will make you feel better." He pecked your forehead and helped you up, your legs clenched together as you followed him with a pretty pissed off expression.

"What the fuck was that Yuuji?!" You hit him on the arm as he followed you into the bathroom and locked the door behind you, "What were the two of you thinking?" Your unamused face did not matched the burning ache you felt between your legs in the slightest.

Yuuji chuckled, "I just wanted to have a little fun with you. I'm sorry if I upset you."

"Upset her? She's dripping wet." Sukuna's voice sounded from Yuuji's palm, a visible smirk on the mouth as his tongue licked the wet palm, "I'd say she enjoyed the thrill. Didn't you wench?"

Yuuji shut his fist quickly, "Sukuna, if she doesn't want it then we don't do it, it's that simple. Now keep quiet, I wanna hear her out."

"And I wanna eat her out." The demon spoke from the other hand.

You sighed, "The two of you are unbelievable, and you're not doing a very good job controlling your little friend Yuuji."

"Huh? It's not my fault that he's an asshole!"

"Wasn't talking about Sukuna." You looked down at his pants, the bulge betraying his own lust. "I can't let you go out like that." You marched up to him, determined and yanked him forward into a kiss, clumsily stumbling back until you took a seat on one of the cold marble of the faucets. "You made me horny, both of you should take responsibility for that much at least."

Yuuji hummed into your mouth, his hard bulge rubbing against your wet panties, his hands under your skirt, the mischievous demon tongue tasting your heated skin.

"Told you she wanted it. Look at her Yuuji, spreading her legs for us like a slut. You may be an idiot, my vessel, but I can't argue with your tastes." Sukuna's voice sounded like he was right there next to you, whispering in your ear, making you more willing to bend to his and Yuuji's will. Yuuji's hands pulled your panties down your legs, let them fall to the floor as his hands quickly undid his belt, his pants and boxers falling to reveal his impressive, hard cock.

Before he could put it inside Sukuna's mouth was on your pussy again, licking inside, "Sukun- ah!" You pulled Yuuji close, your legs crossing over around him, his warm cock brushing against your thigh.

"What did I tell you Yuuji, if she walks like a whore, talks like a whore, then she's a whore. And she's all ours." Sukuna's tongue moved lighting fast, making a slobbering mess between your legs, your legs shaking, your grip faltering.

"Let your voice out pretty girl, let us hear you. Wanna hear you feeling good, make all kinds of pretty noises for us, come on." Yuuji's lips found your neck, mimicking Sukuna's mouth perfectly, sucking, kissing and licking. You couldn't stop the sounds from coming out under the pleasure of their tongues, "That's it, that's what I'm talking about."

It felt good, it felt wonderful, to have them both, to feel them both but... "I need more. Yuuji please, I need your cock." You'd long since learned that Yuuji needs, and loves to be told what to do. And when he is, he delivers better results each time.

He nodded, giving you one last chaste kiss before he moved his hard cock between your legs, poking around your wet entrance.

"Yuuji..." You whined bucking into him, "Don't tease. They'll come looking for us."

Yuuji tilted his head like he didn't understand the meaning of your words, his hips lazily moving forward, the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit. As you were about to demand it again Sukuna's mouth was on yours. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his skilled tongue, "Beg him bitch. You want him to hurry up right? Ask him properly."

You bit Sukuna's tongue as he pulled away to allow you to speak, "Yuuji. Hurry up. Hurry up and put it in already." Not a demand, a desperate plea, begging, asking, needing.

As the words left your mouth Yuuji chuckled and smiled at you, "So cute when you beg. How am I so lucky? Well mostly lucky." His words weren't directed at you, much to Sukuna's own amusement, "Of course I'll give you what you want." His cockhead passed your entrance, pushing inside, stretching you out as his other hand rubbed your thigh, "Relax. Let me take care of you now. Let me make you come. Let us."

God he was so soft, so gentle and caring even with his whole cock buried and throbbing in your pussy. He winked at you before he started moving, dragging his length out, then easing it back in, each thrust hitting your sweet spot perfectly.

"Watch." Sukuna growled against your lips, Yuuji's hands grabbing you by the jaw and pushing you back, pushing your head back enough for you to get a glimpse of yourself being fucked by him. His fingers still tasted of you, or maybe it was the lingering taste of when Sukuna kissed you, "She's a pretty one, a real keeper. If you go even louder I promise to fuck you later. I won't just make you moan, you'll scream for me. You'll take my cock and you'll love every second of it. So enjoy this gentle treatment from my vessel while you can."

Yuuji's soft fucking into your sensitive cunt, Sukuna's unforgiving tongue on your heated skin, the sight of it all reflected in your eyes and in the mirror before you, it was almost mind-numbingly good. "Yuuji..." You moaned, not caring anymore, you needed to come, you needed him to come, and you needed it fast, "Sukuna's mouth, I need it."

There was no doubt that you'd get what you asked for when you used that begging tone with them. Yuuji was more than happy to oblige, setting his warm palm, and Sukuna's mouth on your clit. Sukuna didn't miss a beat, firmly sucking on your the little sensitive bud.

You couldn't take your eyes off them, of how they made you look.

"Come." They spoke in unison, causing your orgasm to shoot through your body, back arching, mouth open and drooling, incapable of stopping your moans and whimpers. Yuuji followed soon after, his cock trembling, pulsing, unloading his warm torrent of seed into your pussy which drank it all up.

Yuuji's mouth descended back onto yours while Sukuna's cleaned you up, licking everywhere, ever last drop of you and Yuuji as his vessel pulled out.

The two, three, of you stayed like that for a few more minutes, bathing in the afterglow. Yuuji would have gladly fallen asleep here it this wasn't a bathroom, and if your friends weren't still waiting for you to come back.

"They'll definitely ask questions." Yuuji chuckled against your cheek, "We better get out there. You think they'll buy that you were throwing up like hell?"

"No and definitely not if they walked past the door." Curse your friends for being so observant. "We'll just have to stay quiet about it and avoid their eyes." Spoken like you didn't have a meal to go back to, one that just started, at the same table. Yeah, you and Yuuji were never hearing the end of this. Sukuna through seemed pretty pleased and proud of himself judging by his amused chuckle as you and Yuuji walked out of the bathroom.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #yuuji itadori smut #sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #yuuji itadori fanfic #sukuna fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk imagine #yuuji itadori imagine #sukuna imagine #jujutsu kaisen x female reader #jjk x female reader

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blushweddinggowns · 2 months

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It ended up being a good show with a great crowd. Eddie stayed behind to do the usual autographs and photos before sneaking out the backdoor, more than ready to find Steve and get to their hotel for the night. They were sticking around San Francisco for a few days until they were off to Seattle, mostly to give Jeff time to visit his parents while they were in town.

Steve was right where he said he would be, off to the side with his arms wrapped around his middle. He looked cold, cold enough for Eddie to shrug off his own jacket, more than ready to drape it over his shoulders. But as he rounded the corner, Eddie quickly realized he wasn’t alone. Eddie raised a brow as he made his way over, more than a little annoyed that Steve was surrounded by four different women.

Did Eddie have any reasonable explanations for the surge of jealousy that went through him? No, not at all. But that didn’t stop his eye from twitching when one of them put a hand on his arm while laughing way too hard at something he said.

It didn’t help that his usual brand of unneeded jealousy was amplified by ten nowadays.

Even though Eddie was aware that Steve was well and truly his again, and had been for months, he was still a bit on edge from the whole ordeal. It’s not like he thought Steve would ever cheat on him, but that nagging realization that he could leave hadn’t really left. Which was very, very stupid. He hadn’t even been gone for that long, but those miserable two weeks had still been pretty traumatizing. They had talked about it a lot since, and Steve was nothing but supportive. So supportive that there was literally nothing else he could do to reassure Eddie more.

But that didn’t stop Eddie from marching over there, the fakest smile to ever exist plastered on his face, “How are you ladies doing tonight?”

Steve perked up at the sight of him, though Eddie noticed she was still touching him. And that just wouldn’t do. Eddie saddled up to him, throwing his arm around Steve’s shoulder with a smile. While just managing to move him enough to shake her hand away.

He could feel Steve’s eyes on him, seeing right through his motives. He always did. Eddie smiled down at her, probably with a little too much teeth, “Enjoy the show?”

They all started talking at once, shocked that Eddie was even there and more than happy to start praising the band. Not that Eddie could blame them. He’d be just as excited in their shoes back in the day. Though Eddie couldn’t help but notice that one of them still had her sights on Steve while he answered all of their excited questions. Her inching ever closer wasn’t exactly helping with his mood.

She had great taste, he’d give her that. It didn’t help that Steve was way too polite when it came to rejecting someone. Eddie would have really prefer it if he just told them to fuck off on the first blush. That’s what he did when he got accosted by groupies, though… the whole false bad boy image helped him get away with it. His princess, on the other hand, was just too sweet for his own good and Eddie was quickly losing patience.

“As fun as this is,” Eddie started, “I think it’s time for us to head out.”

Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but Eddie wasn’t really in the mood to wait. He slipped a hand into Steve’s back pocket, leaning in to smack a wet kiss to the side of his face while staring the girl dead in the eye, “You ready to go, Stevie?”

Steve, to his credit, was so used to his bullshit that he didn’t even blink, “Sure, it was nice to meet all of you.”

Then they were off, leaving a group of shocked, tipsy fans in his wake. It was probably, no, definitely a stupid thing to do. Then again, most people who even slightly knew him past a strictly professional level had figured out that no. The guy whose ass Eddie can’t stop groping was not his brother. It was one of the music industry’s worst kept secrets. But it’s not like Eddie was the only one stepping out of public expectations when it came to 90s rock stars. The world would figure it out eventually, and he and the rest of the band had been preparing for the backlash for years. But you’d be surprised how far the world would go to explain away gay behavior on rich people’s behalf.

Steve managed a halfhearted glare up at him as they went, the hotel only a few blocks away, “Literally millions of people drool over you on a daily basis. How do you get to be the jealous one?”

Eddie shrugged, finally letting himself drape his jacket over Steve’s shoulders. It had the desired effect, any traces of annoyance were gone from Steve’s face the second it touched him. He pressed another kiss to his cheek, “I’m lucky.”

from the epilogue of this fic

#the perfect loving nightmare #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #wooo this is so late #as is everything #but it's here??

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gloomwitchwrites · 3 months

Text

Hand Necklace (2 of 4)

John Price x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: possessive!Price, jealous!Price, vaginal fingering, biting, marking, dirty talk, rough kissing, established relationship

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

A hand necklace is a reminder that you belong to him.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // hand necklace masterlist

Events are not your thing.

You know how and when to smile. You know all the right things to say. But it is draining. Utterly exhausting. You do it for John but sometimes you wish you could stay home and wrap yourself up in bed instead.

When you and John first became involved, you didn’t think the military would have so many fucking events. It’s too many people to smile at and make small talk with. It’s too many forced smiles and people you don’t know shaking your hand when John introduces you.

And now you’ve been abandoned.

Abandoned might be too dramatic of a word, but that is what this feels like. Someone higher than John on the ladder pulled him away, jokingly reassuring you that they’d bring him back to you shortly. But it’s been nearly twenty minutes, and this absence has left John’s spot beside you vacant. It allows others to slither into his territory, to try and fill that role while he’s not around.

It’s not a false fear. It’s happened before. Once, the interaction was so bad, John punched the guy in the face, splattering you and the people standing around with the man’s blood.

“Lovely dress. Looks good on you.” You glance away from staring out across the banquet hall and turn toward the masculine voice.

You don’t know this man, even though his face is vaguely familiar. Did you meet him tonight? Did John introduce him at some point in the evening? It’s hard to say. You’ve meet so many people that their names and faces are all blurring together.

It’s also possible that you’ve met this guy before at another event. John doesn’t like to ever go alone, insistent on dragging you along with him to each function he’s forced to attend.

“Thank you,” you reply hesitantly, your gaze tracking the subtle movements of his face.

He’s smirking in a way that instantly puts you on edge. His pupils are enlarged and his cheeks are rosy like he’s had one too many drinks. This stranger is likely a bit older than you but not close to John’s age.

“Where’s Captain Price?” he asks, glancing around like he’s trying to find John. But he’s not. The asshole uses this as an opportunity to step closer into your space.

You frown, ready to bolt. Until you realize you’re backed into a literal corner.

Fuck.

“I was just about to go look for him. Excuse me,” you say through gritted teeth, attempting to step around this intruder. You’re trying to be polite, mostly for John’s benefit. The people here are his coworkers, and you don’t want to make a bad impression.

“Now, hold on.” He grabs hold of your forearm and tugs a little too roughly.

You stumble into him, nearly spilling your glass of champagne. It puts you dangerously close to an intimate position and your cheeks flame with anger.

Fuck this guy.

Your gaze narrows. “Please, let go—”

“You don’t need to go looking for him,” he says, completely ignoring you. “A man shouldn’t leave a beautiful woman like you alone. Someone might try to take his place.”

You scoff. “Excuse me?”

The guy shrugs as if this is acceptable behavior. “Someone could slip in. Take his place.”

Your grip on your champagne is close to snapping the stem of the glass. “You—”

A shadow appears across the stranger’s face. His gaze shifts to a point behind you, and immediately pales.

“Is there a problem here?” comes a familiar, masculine voice from over your shoulder.

Your shoulders relax, all annoyance leaving you instantly.

The man shakes his head. “Uh. No. Captain. Price. Sir.” He swallows and backs away, turning on his heel and running off like a kicked dog.

You spin around, only to find yourself dangerously close to John’s chest. Your lips part, mouth opening to tell him how happy you are to see him. But there is anger all over his face, and while you know you’ve done nothing wrong, and his anger is for that piece of shit, it still startles you.

Before you have the chance to ease his worry, John snatches the champagne glass from your hand and sets it on the nearby table.

“I am drinking that.”

John ignores you, grabbing your upper arm, and tugging you against him to whisk you away from the room as quickly as possible. He glances over his shoulder, checking the room. Then, he ushers you down a side hallway before turning left into another connecting hallway.

The noise from the party is distant. Far away.

“John—” you protest, and still, he ignores you.

Instead, John turns you around, pressing you against the wall. Your hands go up to rest against the wall, palms flat to keep you stable.

The moment you’re in position, John slides his hand to the front of your throat and wraps his fingers around your neck. He bends you back enough that your lips are just inches from his.

“Who do you belong to?” he asks.

“You,” you reply in a whisper.

“Fucking right, love.” His mouth comes down on yours in a harsh, passionate kiss. There is nothing sweet about it. This kiss is wanton and possessive. An act of ownership.

John pulls back enough to speak against your lips. “I don’t like when people touch what’s mine.” The hand not on your throat slides over your hip and starts to gather your dress up in its fist. “I think some reminders are in order.” Your dress is almost up around your hips when John manages to get underneath it.

“I’m going to start here.” John’s fingers slip under the fabric of your underwear. “By fucking you with my fingers. Have you come all over them.” He parts your pussy, teasing your clit with a few well-placed swirls that already has your cunt clenching.

John’s lips fall away from yours to trace over your jaw, past your throat, and down to your exposed shoulder. “And while I fuck your pretty pussy, your skin will know my teeth.” He gently bites down on the spot just below where his hand squeezes your throat. Then he sucks it sharply into his mouth, turning the gentle nibble into pain mixed with pleasure. He releases his hold, your skin bouncing back into place, buzzing with a throbbing ache.

“You’re mine to mark, and everyone out there is going to fucking know it when I’m done.”

His middle finger pushes in, seeking your warmth.

“This is a promise,” murmurs Price as he begins to pump that finger in and out of you. “That you’re taking my cock later.”

“Fuck. Oh—fuck. John.”

“That’s right, love. Say my name.” John moves to a different spot along your exposed skin, biting and sucking until the spot blooms with a harsh mark. He inserts a second finger, moving steadily, almost leisurely in the way he fucks your pussy with his fingers and brings blossoming sharp pleasure-pain across your skin.

The base of his palm rubs against your clit, and you whimper. Your response earns you a little squeeze of his hand around your throat.

“Quiet. Someone will hear. And I don’t want anyone else knowing how lovely you sound.”

You answer with a soft whine as John switches between pumping in and out of your pussy, and nipping at your skin. While there is an undertone of gentleness, everything about this is a bit harsh, a bit feral, like John is doing this more for him than for you.

Which is fine, because the palm of his hand against your clit is making your head spiral into oblivion.

“That man will never know your touch. Or what your cunt tastes like,” murmurs John against your skin. “Those are only for me, love. Just me.”

You agree with a repressed moan, only to inhale sharply when John presses against your clit in just the way you need.

“Gonna show me how you come all over my fingers?” asks John, squeezing your throat a bit tighter.

You nod frantically, whispering a needy, “please.”

John’s smile unfurls over your skin. He kisses one sore spot softly, and then begins fucking your pussy in earnest, moving his fingers and palm in perfect rhythm with each other until you’re biting down on your bottom lip trying to hold back the sounds threatening to erupt from up your throat.

Keeping control on your body is its own kind of pleasure. You’re following John’s instruction, and he revels in it, murmuring soft praises as your pussy clenches around his fingers and your thighs quiver.

“That’s it,” he coos, helping you through it.

Your entire body seizes, and then you’re melting, knees giving out, but John is right there to catch you. That hand necklace disappears, easing up to stroke down your back only to wrap around the front of your waist.

“Good to go back out there?” he ask.

“No.” You shake your head. Try to swallow. “I—can’t go out there.”

“What do you want?”

“Home,” you answer, licking your lips, turning your head to gaze at John.

John smirks. “We have to walk across the banquet hall to leave.”

“What!” You turn as much as you can and John’s smile is smug.

“If home is what you want. Then it’s home we will go. But first, you’re gonna show off these pretty little marks, yeah? Make sure everyone knows that you’re off-limits. All mine.”

You nod, swallowing down all the nervousness. You belong to John, just as he belongs to you.

He winks and then helps you off the wall. “Let’s go.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @kittytiddywinks @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @tiredmetalenthusiast

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scribbledghost · 2 months

Note

Congrats on the 3k followers, you deserve them all and even more!! For the celebration, I'd like to request Simon + number 34. After the drabble in neighbor!AU where reader meets Ghost for the first time and it ended up being a false alarm, I'm curious to see how Simon would react to reader being put in an actual dangerous situation.

Note: (The original post in question) Thank you so much friend!! I still really love that drabble, thank you for requesting this so I can explore the concept a little more! (I know these are supposed to only be 500 words, but I got a little carried away with this one oops) 3K Follower Prompt List 34. Character In Peril

It’s several months after your initial run-in with Ghost on Simon’s military base when your house gets broken into in the middle of the night.

True to form, Simon hadn’t said much about the incident on-base other than a quick apology later that evening for having to meet Ghost in such a manner.

“Would you really have killed anyone who came through the door?” you asked softly after he apologized.

The only response he gave at the time was a kiss to your forehead and a quiet “would’ve done whatever I needed to to keep you safe, love”.

His words ring in your head once more as you drop to your knees on the direct order of the masked figure in front of you in your living room. You’ve tried to reason with him, tried to tell him to just take what he wants and leave, but you quickly realize he isn’t there purely to steal property.

He’s there to terrorize.

You aren’t quite sure how long the intruder spends kneeling in front of you and whispering vulgar threats, but your heart drops when you look up and see another figure by the front door.

However, your dread quickly turns to hope when the new man lifts a finger to his lips in a “shush” motion, drawing your gaze to his face. Or rather, what you can see of his face.

It’s Simon. You’d know those eyes anywhere.

Actually, no. It’s not Simon. Not exactly.

Judging by the tightly-wound body language, pistol in his hand, and skull balaclava, it’s Ghost.

How he’d known you were in trouble, you're not sure. You suppose that doesn’t matter now.

You try to not draw the man’s attention to the sudden presence behind him, and Ghost approaches whisper-quiet as he stalks through the room.

As soon as the man stands, everything seems to happen at once.

You saw Ghost on the military base. Heard his authoritative tone and witnessed his lightning-quick assessment of the situation, even though it had turned out to be a false alarm. But you didn’t see any of his combat skills.

It’s almost like he’s making up for it now.

He grabs the man by the back of the shirt, yanking him backwards and off his balance. A sharp “get down” from Ghost has you flopping forward onto the floor without a second thought, burying your face into the carpet as the sounds of struggle meet your ears.

The rest is a blur. You can hear punches being thrown and curses ground from between teeth. Sharp gunshots coupled with pained cries and fading gurgles signal the end of the fight, but you still keep your head down. It isn’t until you feel a gentle hand on the back of your head that you flinch.

“Shh, it’s alright love,” Ghost’s deep voice calls. “‘S just me. It’s alright, he can’t hurt you.”

Your relief is palpable, but when you move to get up, a firm hand rests itself between your shoulder blades.

“No, no,” he says. “Can’t have ya gettin’ up on your own, sweetheart. Made a bit of a mess, I’m afraid. I’m gonna help you up and get you back into your bedroom, then I’m gonna make a quick call. I’ll let you know when it’s alright for you to come back out, okay?”

The adrenaline buzzing in your ears makes it difficult to do anything else but nod.

Ghost - or is he Simon again? You can’t tell, and it stirs a strange feeling in your stomach - helps you up, sliding a hand over your eyes before you have the chance to look up from the floor. He guides you to your bedroom, closes the door, and you hear heavier footsteps fade away, followed by muffled, one-sided conversation. You strain to hear what you can, but the details are vague.

“Price? Need a favor. I know it’s late. Need a cleanup. Someone broke in. No, not my house. Yeah… yeah. Next door. ‘S why I called. Need this done quickly and quietly. Yes sir. I’ll keep an eye out.”

The minutes tick by until you hear a vehicle pull up, followed by multiple quiet voices. You can’t make out what anyone is really saying, not between the overlapping talk and sounds of work being done, but there seems to be three voices in addition to Ghost's. After some time, you hear footsteps approach your door, followed by two quick knocks.

“Almost done, sweetheart,” Ghost says, then he retreats back to the living room.

A little while later, the rest of the crowd leaves, and once again you hear another knock at your door.

“Still with me, love? You can come out now. All clear.”

You hesitate, not sure how to approach the situation. Slowly, you open the door.

“...Ghost?”

“No, lovie. It’s just me. ‘S just Simon.”

Without thinking, you throw yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his barrel chest.

You don’t ask him why he smells like bleach.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #neighbor simon #ghost scribbles

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delopsia · 3 months

Text

Wolfish | Bob Floyd x Reader

Word Count: 3,800 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: AFAB!Reader, werewolf! Bob, implied werewolf hunter! Reader, unprotected sex, Bob has an undiagnosed praise kink, brief over-stimulation, size kink if you squint, sex against a wall, werewolves doing...werewolf things. Brief Summary: You can't seem to keep your hands off each other today. My late entry for @attapullman's International Bob Floyd Fucks Month!

Your back slams against the locker doors. Metal clatters so loud that it echoes. Bouncing off the walls, rattling around inside of empty crevices, and squeezing through the crack in the door. Had ought to rumble its way across the building, down the street, and right into the unwitting ears of your team. Freshly deployed. Chasing the false scent of the very man between your legs.

Sure wonder what they would think if they walked in and saw this.

The obscene pressure of a werewolf's hard cock, straining against his sweats, pressing deliciously against your fluttering cunt. Your legs coiling impossibly tighter around his bony waist, sharp hip bones digging into the plush fat of your thighs, fingers trailing up the back of his neck, across short-clipped hair, to tangle in the longer strands at the top.

His warm nose bumps against your cheek. Blindly guiding himself back to your mouth, sloppy and lazy, little wet noises punctuating every motion, razor-sharp canines nipping at your bottom lip. Such an otherworldly sensation that has your head spinning so fast you fear you'll fall, arms tightening around his shoulders.

"Four times has gotta be some kind of record," Bob's tone rumbles through you like thunder, shaking your bones like fragile leaves in the wind. The cold rims of his glasses bump into you as he draws away, darkened eyes drinking you up like a glass of water in the middle of a sweltering desert.

Your head falls back against the locker, sucking in a breath. "Maybe for you," squirming. Grinding down into the bulge of his cock, absolutely and unequivocally unashamed of putting on a show for him.

"Keep telling yourself that," stupid wolf with his stupid, dumb head tilt. You can almost picture the puppy ears flopping over, begging for a good scratch. Part of you wonders if his leg would twitch if you found the right spot.

But you certainly don't mean to actually let your fingers slide from his hair and behind his ear. Blunt nails scratching at the skin there, blessed by the sound of his soft inhale. Eyelashes flutter. A boot kicks the floor. Defiantly holding himself together.

Those sharp teeth glint in the moonlight as his mouth opens. "Gonna be in so much trouble if they catch us."

Funny, you very nearly forgot about them already. Jake, Bradley, Nat. All chasing down a scent you massaged into the fur of a semi-feral feline last night. They'll find the little calico here soon. Jake and Bradley will start arguing over who's in the right; Nat will get fed up and call for backup. If there's anything you know about Javy, it's that he'll be up and have the cat found before the spat is settled.

You only have so much time before they return, badgering you about another bad scent. Even less time to get this wild-eyed werewolf in you. Devilish, you draw yourself closer to him. Nose to nose. Legs so tight around him that your bones ache. "What, not keen on telling a group of werewolf hunters you're a—fuck," it hasn't even been that long since the last time you felt his cock twitch into you. There's no reason it should have you getting wet like this. "Werewolf?"

He stumbles forward. Knocking you into the lockers again. Big hands squeezing greedy handfuls of your ass. "Call me a prude, but I ain't much for being hunted, honeycomb."

On their own, his hips roll forward. Impossibly strong arms working double time to draw you into it. And you're so, so certain that there's a wet spot staining your shorts right now. A sick mixture of your own wetness and his cum dripping out of your abused cunt, damn near sore from how many times he's filled you up today.

And yet, it's still not enough. "You really think they'd hurt you?" Your voice almost strained. Weary hand reaching between your heated bodies. Sliding those flimsy shorts out of the way, relishing in the hitch of his breath, all over the sight of your pussy.

"I don't wanna find out," he grunts, and for a second, you think he's gonna drool.

Your index finger slips between your folds. Gathering up your wetness, skin glistening with it, as your hand rises to his mouth. You don't need to ask for him to part his lips, letting two of your fingers slip past. His hot, wet tongue is so, so soft compared to the canines that brush against your knuckles. Sucks on them a little too eagerly, so content with your taste that his eyes fall shut.

"Then you'd better hurry up, puppy," you murmur, catching his tongue between your fingers. He can get away at any moment, and yet, he makes no move to.

Far too gentle, compared to the out-of-control, bloodthirsty werewolf stereotype.

"Quit calling me that," his speech is a little garbled, talking without a fully operational tongue. But he's reaching down, pushing at the thick band of his sweats, heavy cock damn near falling out of its confines. So flushed and swollen that you reckon it's gotten bigger since the last time you saw it. Audibly slaps against your cunt, between your parted folds, right where he ought to stay for the rest of his life.

Or, rather, where he ought to stay after he's done with you.

Bobby has to draw himself back by a damn mile to stroke his big, blunt head down your core, nudging politely at your entrance. You're still so loose, opening easily as he presses into you. Thick, pink tip stretching you wide, bullying his way back into your overfucked, needy pussy.

A noise draws out of your lips. Starstruck by the drag of his cock, big enough to make the dry, unlubricated glide feel like it's going to split you open. Would hurt if you weren't dripping around him, an obscene mixture of lube and cum spilling out of your pussy, coating him once more.

"That's it," you breathe, head tilting back, "good boy."

A pitchy whine slices through the air.

You haven't heard that one before.

Opening your eyes is damn near impossible, and yet, you're finding the strength to force them open. Immediately focusing on his flushed face. "What?" Your giggle is strained. Lungs suddenly too tight. "You like it when I call you that?"

He nods a little too eagerly. "Uhuh."

It's not fair.

Truly, it isn't. He shouldn't be allowed to bat those long, innocent lashes at you. Not when his oversized cock has your pussy aching as he sinks into you. It's a damn wonder he's fit the past three times because he's barely halfway in, and you're already struggling. Hands scurrying behind his neck, nails biting into the lithe muscle of his shoulders. Lungs seeming to shrink with every inch you take of him, running out of space for oxygen.

"'m I hurting you?" He whispers in that fragile tone of his, glasses glinting as he tilts his head forward.

Your head is shaking before he can even begin to stall his hips. "N...no."

"Your nose is scrunched like it is," and as if you could have possibly forgotten where it's located on your face, Bobby leans in and bumps his nose against yours. So damn warm compared to this chilly little locker room; feels like you've cozied up to a furnace rather than a man.

Defiant, your head tilts forward, foreheads knocking together. "Because you're big, dummy."

His eyelashes flutter. "Oh." Struck dumb.

As if he possibly could have deluded himself into believing that every man on this planet walks around hung like a damn horse. Even you had known it. Could see the fat outline of him in those thin sweats he loves. Blissfully unaware of the way his cock makes its presence known as he walks.

But he's finally, finally bottoming out in you. Not a damn millimeter of space left for him to fill, sweaty skin flush against your ass. It's a damn wonder that you haven't started waddling from the amount of times you've felt this very sensation today. Once in the comfort of your bed. Again, in the break room, after you got the call that everyone else would be late. And when you'd dared to venture into Bob's office, perching yourself in his lap, kissing beneath his ear until he cracked and let you ride him.

Fatigue has only recently started to settle into your bones, and by the looks of it, Bob is feeling it, too. Pretty eyes closed, completely and utterly uninterested in moving. You'd think he was asleep if he didn't suck in a breath when you involuntarily clench around him.

"Too tired to fuck me, Robby?" You murmur, raising a hand to comb through his messy hair, ruined by your own doing.

He hums, twitching out of you a little, only to push back in just as lazily, "thought ya might be sore."

"What," stars sparkle behind your eyelids; he's rubbing against that overworked bundle of nerves on every slow pass of his cock, "makes you think that?"

"Earlier," pumping into you a little faster now, finding that same old rhythm that never seems to lose its dizzying charm, "you were muttering about me bruising your pussy."

That...

"You heard that?" You could have sworn you'd muttered that while you were cleaning up last time.

When he was on the other side of the room.

"I hear a lotta things," chirping, all too friendly. There's no reason why a man should smile so innocently while his hips are smacking into your ass, "like you whining my name in your hotel room last Tuesday."

Images flicker through your memory. The coziness of an expensive hotel bed. Soft blankets and an even softer, golden glow of the bedside lamp in a room all to yourself. Wrapped up in a false sense of privacy as your hand ventured below your waistband.

He'd heard you through the damn wall?

But you can't even be mad because he's squeezing you a little tighter. Every thrust of his hips bounces your body further up the lockers. Knocking the breath out of your lungs. A weakened whine twisting through the quiet air. Too intimate of a sound to be in a communally shared room.

"And you wonder why I hate most werewolves," writhing. Arms tightening around his shoulders. Heels digging into the meat of his ass. "What else can you do? Smell when I'm turned on?"

"Uhuh," his obedient head nods. Such an unassuming motion that has you clamping down around him. Rips a groan right out of his broad chest.

His hips shift. The slightest change in angle, and yet he's driving right up into those nerves. Plush tip massaging them head-on. Has you fluttering around him like a damn butterfly. Sent into a never-ending spasm.

"Fuck," you wail. Nails biting into his soft neck. "Bobby!"

And you're vaguely aware of the way he's looking up at you. Big puppy eyes, in utter awe of the sight before him. "There?"

You're nodding before you've even recognized what he's asking. Clinging to him. Squeezing his big, overheated body to yours like he'll vanish if you don't. Worst of all, he lets you—pretty face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, the rims of his glasses digging into your flesh, where you can hug him even closer. Your cheek squishing against the side of his head.

"Good boy," gasping into his ear, "keep doing that."

A shiver races down his spine. Mouthing at the side of your neck. Whimpering beneath his heaving breath. The oversized palms that cling to your ass beginning to shiver. Slippery with sweat and struggling to maintain his grip. Growling low in his chest, suddenly sharp nails poking and prodding against your flesh as something within him switches gears.

You know it has because the tips of his ears are growing unnaturally fuzzy. Pointed. And in the time it takes for your hand to reach them, they've already turned. Looks as if the ears of a wolf have been glued to the sides of his head. Twisting and turning, sensitive and reacting to every involuntary noise that falls off your tongue.

"Bobby—" you choke. Squirming. Fighting for a glance at his flushed face. Have to tangle your fingers in his hair and yank his face right out of your neck. And he's...

magnificent.

Glasses smudged by spit and sweat and hopelessly fogged. Strands of soaked hair cling to his glistening forehead. Mouth agape. Impossibly sharp canines glint in the poor lighting. Pink tongue on the verge of lolling out past his lips like a damn domesticated dog, panting in the summer heat.

And yet, as you push his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, you find that his eyes are the same shade of sky blue. Wide and so, so eager.

His feet shift, leaning away. You back presses harder against the lockers. A gap forms between your bodies. Just enough for your hand to let go of his hair and dart between. Diving past the hem of your shirt, clinging to your clammy skin, stopping just above his pistoning cock, to find your sore and overused clit. A tingle bolts up your spine.

"Fuck, you're—" Bobby's eyes screw shut. Grunting low in his chest. A guttural, animalistic noise you've only heard him make once. "Clenching around me so fucking...mhm, shit."

You reckon he can feel your sudden contraction as well as you can feel the fat swell of his cock head. Driving into you impossibly deeper. As if this sudden wolfiness has made him larger than he was before. His angle hasn't shifted, but his oversized tip rubs right into your g-spot with a vigor that makes your legs tremble around his hips. Head spinning. Tipping back to hit the locker door.

"Robby, Robby, keep, keep—," babbling. Cut short. He's listening. He's listening. Rubbing right into those little nerves over and over and over. You're not sure if the heat coiling in your belly is from his cock or your fingers. "Fuck, good boy."

"You gotta quit calling me that," he pants, sentence fractured by a choked moan, "gonna have me following you like a lost puppy for the rest of your life."

He'd look cute with a little blue collar that matches his eyes. But you can't hang onto that idea for long.

"I don't mind the," gasping, "idea of that."

Your body is beginning to tense. Too hot for this little room. The coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter with every thrust of his cock. Pussy squelching with the motion of him, so damn wet that you fear you're dripping onto the floor below. And Bobby is whimpering again. Pitchy little noises that you can't believe are coming from your cunt being wrapped around him.

His pretty mouth can't stay shut. Already opening again. "I'm...I...I'm—"

"Uhuh," is all you can manage. Struggling to keep your eyes open. Legs growing tighter and tighter around him until, until, until—

Your back arches off the lockers with a silent cry. Thrust up into the clouds. Head spinning like a top. Spasming and cumming around his big, oversized cock without another warning. And you're only vaguely aware of the way he cries out at the feeling. Hips stuttering to a halt. Filling your well fucked pussy with his cum for the fourth time today. Twitching inside you. His head falling back into the crevice between your neck and shoulder.

It may not have been your most intense orgasm of today, but it does take you some time to come down. Brought back to earth by the kisses against your clammy skin and the nimble fingers that massage the plush swell of your ass.

Bobby looks normal again. Not a single wolfish feature to be found. Back to your same old, soft-eyed tech guy. The one who has deceived you into thinking he was human for so, so many years. Probably would have been able to keep up the act, too, had you not crossed the boundary between friends and lovers.

Abrupt, his head snaps up. Those wolf ears are back. Twisting and turning like little radar dishes.

"Shit," he snarls, and before you're even ready, he's sliding out of you. Cum already beginning to spill down your thighs.

"What?" You're helpless. Don't realize you've been placed back on the floor until he's led you halfway across the room. "Bobby, what is it?"

"Jake. Bradley." Short. Straight to the point. "Down the hall. Coming this way."

There's a tiny janitor's closet in the corner of the locker room—barely big enough for one body to fit inside of it, never mind two. Not the ideal hiding spot, but with no other exit, you've got no choice. It's either hide or be caught.

You can only hope that there isn't a noticeable mess on the floor. Or, worse, a trail leading all the way to the door.

The door to the locker room squeals open just as the closet closes. Your weary head struggling to catch up to speed, still processing the drop to the floor and the the things Bob has just said to you. Hell. The only reason you notice his arms are around is, is because of the wayward finger that dips beneath your shirt, stroking your skin.

Jake and Bradley are talking. The rumble of the voices is clear, but you can't make out a word that they're saying. It must be something funny because they're laughing. All too loud, uncaring of who they may disturb with their volume or where their voices may wander in the building.

For a moment, you're afraid to breathe. Worrying about the hammering of your heart. As if they could possibly hear the tiny thump of it in your chest.

Bob's spent cock bumps into your hip. Still free of his confines. Wet with an obscene mixture of his cum and your wetness. Proof of your rendezvous. Frankly, you couldn't bring yourself to go another round, even if you got your hands on a magical reset button. But you can't help but notice that you haven't felt the glide of him against your tongue in such a long while...

Surely, Jake and Bradley won't hear if you...sink to your knees, here...just for a minute or two...

"What are you doing?" Bob whispers, barely audible, even to you. Eyes wide as you reach for him. "You can't—are you serious right now?"

But kicking up a fuss will get the two of you caught. A risk he can't afford to take. Not with those big, wolfish ears still twisting and turning on the sides of his head. The very thing you've all been gathered here to eliminate.

Daring, your tongue pokes out of your mouth.

The slam of Jake's locker washes over Bob's sharp inhale. Too sensitive for the hellish sensation of your hot tongue dragging against the underside of him.

His hands rise. Both of them clamping down over his mouth. Eyes screwed shut.

There's a tremor to him that wasn't there before—shaking like a lone leaf in the wind. Helpless to do anything but let you keep licking at him. Long strokes of your tongue. Gathering the sweet mess that clings to his cock. Who could have thought that an identifying characteristic of North American werewolves is sweet cum? You sure didn't until he'd cum in your mouth that first time.

Hell, he didn't even know.

It's too dark to see his face, but you can feel his eyes boring holes into your shoulders. Hips twitching away, but never making the move to push your head away. Helpless to let you clean his pretty cock with your tongue, from base to tip.

If there was light in here, you're certain he would be shimmering with your saliva by now.

Whatever it was Jake and Bradley needed to do, it didn't seem to take them long. Their boots clomp across the floor. Lockers slamming shut. Loud, muffled voices grow faint as they meander down the corridor, surely heading to their vehicles, looking forward to a well-deserved day off tomorrow.

You suppose Bob has heard the back door chime because his hands fly off his mouth.

He's fortunate that you're too tired to push him much further. Gathering up the last of him. And just for extra measure, you allow yourself the simple pleasure of wrapping your swollen lips around his tip. Teasing his slit. Sucking gently.

"You can't just," he babbles, sweaty hand pawing at the side of your face, "baby, baby, 's too much, it's too—"

His cock twitches. A splash of cum hits your tongue. A heavy puff of breath sounds from above.

He's pushing your head away before you can even begin to do it yourself.

"Monster," his chest heaves as he tucks himself back into his pants.

"I could say the same about what you just put away," you grin. Rising back up to your feet. He wipes that expression off your lips with a big, wet kiss.

His ears are back to normal, much to your dismay. No fluffiness present to greet your fingers as your hands cup the sides of his face, bringing him back in for one, two, three, four more kisses.

And as you slip back into the locker room, you're greeted with a sheet of printer paper taped to the lockers. And in big, messy handwriting, it reads, "Who's been fucking in here?" With a list of possible culprits at the bottom. Their votes have already been cast, accusing Mickey and Rueben by leaving scraggly check marks next to their names.

"Damn," Bob's brows furrow, incredulous, "my name didn't even make the list." He grumbles, already reaching for the discarded pen.

You can hardly swallow down your giggle. "That just means there's more for us to get away with, my dear." Speaking as innocently as you can. Batting your eyelashes at him.

His eyes roll.

"I'm gonna dress as an old lady and eat you if you keep quoting that darn fable," but he's laughing. Tossing that pen back where he found it. Already reaching for your hand, squeezing it in his own. And with a limp in both of your steps, you venture back into the hallway and out into the parking lot. Already conjuring up your next big escapade before you can even tumble into the front seat of his truck.

This time, you reckon that you and he should go chasing a false werewolf scent for some fun in the woods. You've even got the little red coat to fit the occasion. The exact same shade of Bob's cheeks as you reveal your idea to him.

And in two days' time, when you all flood into the locker room to change, Jake will point at the tiny, squished inscription of Bob's name on the list and laugh. How funny is that? Somebody really thought their quiet wallflower tech guy was the culprit!

All Bob can do is look your way and flash you that big, wolfish grin. Unusually sharp canines and all.

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #oneshot #werewolf au #International Bob Floyd Fucks Month

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 2 months

Text

Dark Moon | Chapter Four

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 1,9k

Warnings | +18, violence, slapping, smut noncon, forced blowjob, abuse, yandere themes, humiliation, explicit and dirty language, forced cum swallowing, spitting, prostitution, Jimin is cruel (yes, it is a warning)

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | This chapter is stronger than the others, if you don't read yandere don't go on, it has triggering content.

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal, @ajkwww, @ungodlyjoon, @hecateslittlewitchling, @namjoonsbuspass

Taglist is open!

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"I have no problem shooting you right this instant. So I won't say it again, leave what belongs to me and never come back to this brothel."

Minho let go of the grip with which he was forcing the girl to suck him off, she fell back on the bed at dead weight, desperate for air, with tears clouding her eyes she saw Minho hastily compose himself, before Jimin moved to the side to let him out, still with the gun tightly clenched in his fist.

"This is not over, Jimin," threatened the man.

"I think it is."

"We'll see," was the last thing he said, before leaving that bedroom behind.

Y/N could not speak, too shocked by the experience she had just gone through, on her tongue she still felt the overwhelming taste of the bastard, but even more agonizing was the thought that Jimin had used her to anger Minho.

He could have acted that way from the start, but no, he had decided to give the man time to use her, making her feel if possible even more like an object.

She hated him, damn it.

"Are you still alive?" he asked her without a hint of tact, Y/N gritted her teeth inhaling through her nose.

"Does it matter? Dead or alive, things will not change. I'll live as a whore and die as one," she hissed, letting the boy finally have a view of her red and tear-streaked face, "And it's all your fault, you're a fucking monster and god ... you don't even know how much I hate you!"

A backhand hit her full in the face, for a moment she saw everything white, she only had time to feel a shift of air about her before a stabbing pain hit her in the skin, Jimin was gripping her hair with such brute force that her head began to throb and burn, she screamed in despair as she was dragged away.

No one in the hallway came out to help her, why would anyone bother, then?

Jimin was in charge there, it was his right to do whatever he wanted with the girls, especially if it was his first choice.

After minutes that seemed interminable, she was thrown inside a room she recognized as her own, indeed, theirs.

"You hate me for that? Oh no, my angel," he shook his head, slamming the door behind him, "I'll give you more reasons to hate me, good reasons," he concluded, beginning to remove his own clothes.

The more skin was shown, the more Y/N feared what was soon to come, Jimin's otherwise perfect arms were littered with ink weaving into thick sinuous lines, heavy tattoos stared at her menacingly when the man's belt also fell to the ground with a thud.

"What are you going to do?" she asked with a trembling upper lip.

Jimin shot her an unfriendly look, brought his hair back in a neck movement that the girl would have found attractive and manly if they were normal boys in an equally normal setting. Instead, she found it threatening and stifled a cry as the man began to unzip his pants.

No. Not again.

"I'll take what's mine, you whored with another man in front of my eyes, this deserves punishment," he replied with deadly calm, he knew things were not like that, he had given her the order after all, but he enjoyed provoking her, the girl tried to retort but Jimin was quicker, "Do you know why I stopped him before he finished?"

Y/N didn't know what to answer, she just watched fearfully as the boy shed all his clothing, he was completely naked. His cock stood straight and swollen, Jimin ran a thumb over the turgid tip and moved closer and closer to her, who curled in on herself.

"Please, I don't want to do this," she cried, but Jimin did not take pity on her.

"Answer me."

"I don't know... I don't know" she shook her head, the young man grabbed her face hard, blocking her.

"I stopped it because the only cum your pretty little mouth is going to swallow is mine," he said firmly in a statement that went against the Dark Moon's own principles, again trapping her head in his firm grip, "Hate me, Y/N, I want to feel how much you do it while your throat is squeezing me," he chuckled viciously, before thrusting unceremoniously into that delicious hot, wet cavern, he closed his eyes biting his lips, the woman moaned and cried with her mouth tight around his girth, swallowing against her will every single inch of the man, until she touched the tip of her nose to the boy's pubes.

Jimin let his moans filled with lust and satisfaction wander around the room, with his hips he pushed deep into Y/N's throat, she threatened to choke on her own spit, long rivulets trickled down her chin, going to soak Jimin's belly closer and closer to her face as the speed of his harsh thrusts increased.

"Aaah... you're better than I thought, tell me the truth... you like being my personal whore, mhh if I touched you... you'd be wet, right?" he asked cruelly, Y/N shook her head forcefully, she was tired, her jaw ached and that bastard's cock kept pulsing and swelling without showing any sign of coming, but she felt it that strange sensation snaking up to her lower abdomen, making her legs tighten to her horror.

She really was Jimin's personal whore.

That realization made her feel disgust for herself.

A grip on her hair more fierce than the others caused her to lift her shiny red eyes to those of her "boss."

The man's hard and cold expression did not match the desperate movement of his hips, "You will swallow every single drop of my cum and afterwards you will lick my cock until it is completely clean, because that's how my whores do it," he grunted giving increasingly frantic and violent thrusts, the girl only wished that this torture would end as soon as possible, she was in such a devastated state of mind that she would follow his every single order to get him away from her, so she nodded weakly as she met the first hot spurt, the muscles of her throat contracted around the cock, throwing down every single drop, just as she was ordered to do.

Jimin's chest swelled in satisfied pride, seeing her there, her cheeks swollen with his cum devastated him in a way he would have struggled to admit out loud.

He released her mouth and finally Y/N was able to take a long breath of air, before the man once again crushed her face against his swollen cock, ever more humiliated she stuck out her tongue, beginning to give small licks along his still stiff length, collected seminal fluid mixed with her own saliva, Jimin's ever-deepening sighs intensified, breaking into a moan at the small suction on the soft, veined skin.

The grip on her hair softened and soon Jimin let her go, Y/N abandoned herself in the clean sheets, her vacant gaze fixed on the ceiling.

"Open your legs, sweetheart," he ordered, and in the girl's mind flashed the thought of resisting him, of not giving in to him. But what would that decision bring? Only pain, so much pain both physical and mental.

She opened her legs as ordered, but looked away to prevent herself from seeing that violence.

Jimin grinned, he did not rip off the young woman's underwear as she had imagined, he spat on her belly causing her to shudder in disgust, he pressed his heavy and still hard cock on her moistened skin and began to slide over it with ease, grunting at each savage lunge and at the intense overstimulation he himself was forcing himself to endure.

He squeezed the girl's chin between two fingers, forcing her to watch as he used her body without giving her the same satisfaction, her look filled with anger and disgust was enchanting to the man, who with one last thrust came one more time, soiling both of their bodies with his cum, such was their closeness.

"Are you angry because I didn't smash your tight pussy?" he asked amusedly, sinking his thumb into the woman's lower lip, "I might as well lick your pussy if you would behave well with me, and I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon with such an attitude...think about it, my pleasure could be yours too if you wanted it."

Y/N turned her head abruptly, releasing herself from his grasp with an expression of disgust firmly stamped on her face.

"I couldn't take pleasure with you even if I wanted to, you're a piece of shit," she spat between her teeth, Jimin clenched his jaw before giving her yet another resounding slap that made her swallow the tears she was holding back.

"Careful, I might consider cutting out that bold tongue of yours, you'd be able to suck me off without it anyway," he hissed before abandoning her, just like a whore.

"You put on a show yesterday."

Jin welcomed Jimin into his office in an icy voice.

"Yes? Well, a rat had sneaked into my territory, I couldn't turn a blind eye, I hate rats," he sat confidently across from his friend and business partner.

"Yet Namjoon must have informed you of my intentions regarding that rat."

Jimin clicked his tongue against his teeth, "How long have we been friends, Jin?"

"Jimin, don't take this key with me, it's just business those with-"

"But family is not business!" blurted out the younger man, "I don't care about the whores and new friends you make, because I know you would never screw us over for someone else, which is precisely why I don't understand what went through your mind when you decided to go into business with Choi," he said harshly, Jin maintained a somewhat neutral expression despite the shaking of his clenched fist.

"I meant no disrespect, Jimin," Jin replied more calmly, "Choi Minho is not involved in what happened to you, so I thought it was accessible."

Jimin leaned toward Jin with fury in his eyes, "No Choi from that family is accessible, if you still want me as your business partner, but especially if you still want me as your brother, drop any negotiations with them," he ordered.

Normally Seokjin would not have accepted such a tone from one of his subordinates.

But that was Jimin, one of his closest friends, one of his brothers, and faced with his stormy past with the Choi family, he could only bow his head and look for another way to get into politics.

"I will cut Choi Minho from my list of names," he finally said, Jimin nodded a little more relaxed.

"Thank you, Jin."

"I'm not done," he blocked him before he could get up, "What are you going to do with that girl?"

Jimin glowered at him, "What do you mean?"

"I need to make sure you're not going to cause trouble with other clients, I heard you were quite possessive of her."

"Possessive? Come on, I was just having fun to provoke Minho a little."

Seokjin didn't buy that excuse; Jimin could tease anyone but him.

"If you want her, I'll wrap her up myself with a nice bow and send her home to you, Jimin."

Jimin narrowed his eyes, "And let's hear it, why would you do that?"

"Because you like her."

The pierced boy swallowed, speechless. Yes, he liked her, he had made that clear, but to that extent? Would he have taken Y/N away from the brothel to enjoy her himself?

"You're imagining things, man," he chuckled, Jin raised an eyebrow.

"Is that your last answer?"

#bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #yandere bts #bts yandere smut #yandere bts x reader #jimin x reader #yandere jimin x reader #jimin x you #yandere #jimin fanfic #bts fanfiction

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