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caesariawritesstuff · 17 days

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Hostage

(Arkham! Riddler x Fem!Reader)

● Ao3 ● X ● Retrospring ● Read on Ao3 ●

You were the perfect target: as the sister of Bruce Wayne, Edward had been watching you for some time. The stupid, billionaire playboy would do anything to get you back. Besides, Bruce could stand to lose a couple billion, couldn’t he? It surely wouldn’t put a dent in his massive fortune, but it’d be enough for Edward to fund his next scheme against the Batman. He sent his goons to watch you closely and study your schedule over the last few weeks, but Edward wasn’t surprised to have his suspicions confirmed: you were a spoiled brat.

His goons reported back all about your fancy lunches with stuffy-suited business men, your extravagant shopping sprees. This wouldn’t be hard. You’d be just like the rest: a screaming, crying mess, begging for your life. He wasn’t interested in killing you so much as getting his money and using you as bait for Batman, to pull the Dark Knight into his next series of conundrums. He spent several weeks planning his scheme, gathering his men, procuring weapons from Penguin. And when the time finally came, Edward’s stomach filled with excited knots. How wonderful it would look when he pulled this off and everyone looked at him like he was the most superior, greatest mind in Gotham. Which he was, of course.

Tonight, you were hosting a fundraiser at one of Gotham’s art galleries; something about the underprivileged children of Gotham, Edward didn’t care much, they weren’t his kids anyways (not like he had any, but still). The gallery was bustling with people dressed to the nines, looking every so high and mighty and pompous.

“They’re just getting settled, boss,” one of his goons said through the walkie.

“Good. Wait until I give the signal,” Edward replied. He turned his attention back to the security camera of the van they were in, which he’d hacked into the gallery’s security camera feed only minutes ago. He gripped his cane tightly, watching the guests take their seats.

Moments later, you walked up the stage and took your place at the podium. Edward couldn’t hear what you were saying, but he watched you with a close intensity, rolling his eyes. What an incredibly waste of time, these charity balls. How…pedestrian. But he waited, checking his watch, and when the hand struck eight, he grabbed his walkie.

“Now,” he said.

His goons immediately moved in. He followed them out of the van, cane in one hand, pistol in the other hand. His men stormed the gallery, guns blazing. They fired shots into the air as people screamed, ready to bolt from their seats. But his men were outnumbered and out armed. Edward strolled into the room, flashing his best, charming smile.

“Now, now,” he said. “No one has to get hurt. But if any of you cretins move a muscle, my men won’t hesitate to shoot. So please take this as you’re only warning.” He peered around the room at the frightened faces of the fundraiser patrons, before his gaze flickered back to you.

There you were, standing in the spotlight. A glimmering, navy dressed hugged your curves nicely, something he couldn’t help but take notice of. Your hands were glued into fists at your sides, face white, lips trembling.

“Ms. Wayne,” he said, pointing his gun at you. “Come with me and no one gets hurt.”

You hesitated and looked around the room. He could just see the wheels turning in your stupid head. But…he found himself a bit taken aback. He’d expected you to run screaming by now. Instead, here you were. Holding your own.

“Very well,” you said, a bravery to your voice. He nodded to his men, who approached and grabbed your arms, yanking you down the stage steps.

“No – you can’t, Ms. Wayne—” an older man said. He was cut off as one of the goons punched him in the stomach, and he keeled over.

“Hey!” you cried. “You said if I come with you, no one gets hurt. I’m coming, aren’t I?”

Edward paused as a sly grin passed his face. “So you were listening. At least you know how to do that.”

Your nostrils flared, looking less than impressed with him. But he didn’t particualry mind or care.

“Now, take her away,” he said. People gasped around him as you were hauled out of the art gallery.

Edward nodded to the two other goons, who walked up to the center of the room and put down one of his contraptions. A little puzzle boxed addressed to Bruce Wayne. If the billionaire was smart, he’d answer the riddle correctly.

Edward smiled, resting his weight on his cane. “Oh, and if Bruce Wayne doesn’t solve my conundrums in thirty minutes, well…” He raised his brows.

The Gothamites seemed to get the hint.

Satisfied, Edward left the art gallery. As he returned to the back of the van, he found you sitting in the corner, hands and feet bound. But to his surprise, you weren’t screaming or crying. You were still, quiet, eyes searching for an escape. As soon as you spotted him, you glared.

Edward grinned. “So, my dear, can you guess why I’ve taken you hostage?”

You sighed. “The same reasons all criminals do. For money.”

“Precisely! You see, my dear, you are—”

“Bait. I know,” you replied. “Bait for Batman, because you’re going to put me in one of your traps, aren’t you?”

Edward paused. “Don’t interrupt me! I’m not finished!” he cried, scowling.

You sighed, shaking your head, and rolling your eyes. Edward found himself surprised, something he did not easily find himself. But…why weren’t you confused? Scared? Right about now, his other hostages would’ve been screaming for help. So, why weren’t you?

“Edward Nigma, right?” you asked.

“Ah, so you do know my name,” he said, flattered. Of course everyone knew his name.

“I was right in the middle of hosting a fundraiser for Gotham’s under privileged youths, and you come ruin it? I’ve been planning this for months. Do you know how many children are counting on me?”

Edward blinked, feeling the vehicle begin to rumble as it pulled away from the curb. Here you were, in the back if his getaway van…and you were more worried about the children?

“You’re seriously more worried about the children than your life?” he asked, raising his brows.

“Yes,” you answered. “And if this is about money, I can get you what you want. Just let me go and we have a deal.”

“But I…but you…” he tripped over his words. He’d never had a hostage act so calm before.

“You like games, right? How about we play one? If I get it right, I’ll give you the money and you let me go. Deal?”

Edward laughed. “Very well. Three riddles. Answer them correctly, and I’ll let you go. Ready?”

You nodded. Your lips were pursed together, your brows furrowed. The look of someone Edward knew didn’t have much going on in that empty head of yours.

“Without fingers I point, without arms I strike, without feet I run. What am I?” he asked, smirking.

“A clock,” you answered.

He frowned. “Oh. So you knew that one. Very well. Second riddle: My greatest of my strengths is that I know my worth. I hug myself so tightly at every birth. What am I?”

“A knot.”

His frown deepened, anger churning in his stomach, cheeks burning. “What falls but does not break, and what breaks but does not fall?”

“Night falls and day breaks,” you answered.

He scowled, jumping to his feet. “You’re cheating, aren’t you? Who’s helping you? Who’s giving you hints? There’s no way a spoiled, empty-headed little rich girl like you could get those correctly!”

“What? Did you think that because I’m a Wayne, that makes me stupid? Well, sorry to break it you to, Mr. Nigma, but I’m not,” you said.

You stared at him with such a level of defiance that Edward wasn’t sure what to do. His first impressions had clearly be incorrect. A simple miscalculation, that was all. It seemed you did have some shred of intelligence after all.

“Well,” he laughed. “How about that? So you can think for yourself. I suppose we do have a deal, don’t we? I expect cash.”

“That’s what we agreed to,” you said.

“But my dear, you forget: you didn’t say when or where I had to let you go,” he said, grinning.

“That’s not fair!” you cried. “Now who’s the one cheating?”

“I don’t cheat!” he cried. “I artfully obfuscate.”

You laughed, a sound out of your mouth he found himself liking. But just before he could respond, the van lurched to the left, and he stumbled forward. The screeching of metal filled with his ears and just as he collected himself, the back door swung open, and Batman stepped into sight. Edward reached for his pistol, but before he could pull the trigger, a Batarang knocked the gun out of his hand. He gasped in pain, and looked up just in time to see Batman’s fist flying through the air – knocking him out cold.

Later, when Edward awoke, he found himself in Arkham. Once more beaten, but not broken. But as he sat in the rec room, he knew you couldn’t have gotten those riddles right…Batman had to have cheated and given you the answers. But his eyes flicked to the TV, noticing you were currently holding a press conference to announce a generous donation and funding to a children’s program all throughout Gotham. But as you spoke, he suddenly found himself completely enamored.

Perhaps you were smarter than Edward anticipated. He’d never expected you to get his riddles right, to be more concerned with the people of Gotham rather than your own predicament…but a small smile touched Edward’s lips. Oh, yes. He certainly wanted to discover more about you.

And he couldn’t wait to see you again.

#caesariawrites #arkham riddler #the riddler #arkhamverse riddler #edward nigma #theriddler #arkhamverse #the riddler x reader #riddler x reader #riddler x you #riddler x y/n #edward nigma x reader #edward nigma x you #edward nygma #edward nygma x reader

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 2 years

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How To Annihilate Your To-Do List

Summary: Y/N has a very long to-do list, can Dean convince her to let it get longer, and stay in bed with him instead?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut. Fingering. Kissing. General morning making out. Fluff - it's pretty much all smutty fluff!

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 830

A/N: Just a little drabble that came into my head after seeing this post. I may also have a massive to-do list, but it's gloomy and rainy in my part of the world, and it got me thinking how lovely it would be if I could just spend the day in bed with Dean instead. Hope you enjoy the...smuff? Flut? Lol! I don't think there's a word for fluffy smut - but enjoy anyway! 💓

The beautiful divider at the bottom was created by @talesmaniac89.

The sound of your alarm made you groan and roll over to try and shut it off with a series of angry slaps to your phone, one of which eventually hit the right button and silenced the loud, percussive music that you'd specifically chosen so you couldn't sleep through it.

There was another groan behind you as Dean wrapped his thick arm around your ribcage and pulled you back against him. He ducked his head and nuzzled his face into your hair, his breath soft and hot against the back of your neck. His body was so warm and the blankets were so cozy you immediately fell back into a doze.

The slamming bass of the song came blaring on again ten minutes later, telling you that you'd only snoozed your alarm. Which was a good thing because as you picked it up and shut it off again, you growled slightly at the fact that you actually had to get up. You had so many chores to get done, so many errands to run. It was your first real day off in almost three weeks and all the little day-to-day crap that you'd been putting off, was now a mile long to-do list.

You tried to pull Dean's arm off of you carefully, hoping you didn't have to wake him. But as you tried to scoot out from under his long, strong limb, Dean wrapped it tight around you again and doubled down by throwing one of his heavy, muscled thighs over both of your legs, pinning them in place.

"No." He said, quick and grumbly, as though he was a particularly deep-voiced toddler.

But then his voice turned persuasive. "Stay." He breathed against the curve of your bare shoulder, as he rubbed his lips softly across your skin. He trailed kisses back up your neck before nosing along your jawline and nipping gently at your throat.

You melted into him, your brain trying to rationalize staying in bed all day with Dean instead of ticking things off of your to-do list. One last practical part of you was yelling in the distance to behave yourself and get up and do the things responsible adults were supposed to care about.

But then Dean's big hand cupped your breast and squeezed gently and every good intention flew out the window. You turned your head and then rolled onto your back so Dean was hovering above you. He smiled slow and sexy, his face still full of sleepiness, as he slid his hand down your torso, fingers drumming lightly against your skin as they moved.

Just as he was about to reach your warm, wet, heat, your phone started up again; clearly you hadn't succeeded in shutting off the stupid alarm.

Before you could do anything about the noise, Dean reached across your body and grabbed the phone off the bedside table.

"No!" He said again, his voice a deep, angry grumble now as he whipped your phone across the room so it hit the wall and went silent.

Your eyes grew wide and you gasped. "Dean! What the hell? That was my phone! What are you a caveman?"

In answer Dean grunted low and harsh, a sound that went straight to your core and had you dripping for him despite your annoyance. He grabbed on to both your wrists, wrapping his thick fingers around them easily and pressing them into the pillow on either side of your head.

He growled into your ear and shivers wracked your body. "Mmm...yeah, and this caveman has no intention of letting you out of this bed at all today."

He laved his wide tongue across your lips, licking them open before crushing his lips against yours. The kiss was deep and primal; he sucked on your tongue and bit at your lips until you were writhing under him desperate for more.

Your responsible side made one last ditch effort to get you to listen, as you panted against his neck while his lips wrapped around your earlobe and tugged.

"But...I...ah!...fffuck...Dean! - " Your sentence was interrupted as he let go of one wrist to let his wandering fingers trace down your body and then delve into your slick heat. "I...I have...stuff..." Another breathless gasp as two thick fingers slid into you. "...stuff..." You finished lamely as your one free hand grabbed hold of his wrist, holding it in place against your soaking wet pussy as he lazily dipped his fingers in and out of your body.

He watched your face as he fucked you with his fingers, watched the ripple of desire and pleasure move across your features.

"Nah, some asshole broke your phone, so your to-do list doesn't exist." He curled his fingers forward, hitting your sweet spot and making you cry out, bucking against his hand.

His voice was a growl again as he whispered into your ear. "Might as well just stay here with me, sweetheart."

You moaned out your total agreement.

@akshi8278, @lgranger67, @maggiegirl17, @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone, @foxyjwls007, @b3autyfuldisast3r, @myloversgone, @kazsrm67, @fangirlxwrites67, @kickingitwithkirk, @charred-angelwings, @hopefuldreamers-world, @siospins2, @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp, @my-sherlock221b, @jensensgotyoudean @lyarr24, @snowlovespie, @stixnstripesworld, @thoughts-and-funnies, @magssteenkamp, @norman1967, @princessmisery666, @mishkatelwarriorgoddess, @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy, @eevvvaa, @b-i-t-c-h-i-e, @twirpbunwarrior, @mysweetlittledesire, @waynes-multiverse, @mrsjenniferwinchester, @bernasaurus, @leigh70, @sexyvixen7, @supernatural4life2022, @dainrumnaheimnaheim

Masterlist

Tag Lists

#dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fan fic #spn one shot #dean winchester one shot

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spymasterspriest · 10 months

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Chapter 5

The Spymaster & The Priest A Gwynriel role reversal fanfiction

Masterlist, or read the entire series on AO3

Time passed, either minutes, hours, or an eternity - Azriel couldn’t tell which, when the spymasters awareness of their location becomes more astute. He could see the town she’d described up ahead, peeking over the horizon. As he began to ascend, the large shapes of livestock and ambiance of a place inhabited by people began taking shape.

Late spring rain had begun to pelt them in the last stretches of their journey. It hadn’t seemed to bother Gwyn, in fact he was sure at some point she’d fallen asleep.

The bright blur of the world resolved itself as the ground grew up at him. Buildings scattered into the horizons as far as he could see. Not a small town, then. Rain drips from the rooflines. Windows glow here and there, light catching the droplets like falling stars. Very few people milled about, dressed in dull clothing heavily waxed to keep them dry.

He’d never been here before, he realized. It was beautiful.

Azriel swallows the lump in his throat as a childish dream floods his mind; one of adventure and story like his books. Heart aching and war of guilt takes up inside at the idea of a whole wide world at his fingertips.

Gwyn stirs, flinching slightly when his fingers contract instinctually so she doesn’t fall. His shadows wilt. Azriel refuses to let it detour him. She would say so if his touch bothered her. Wouldn’t she? He has known her less than a full day and he already wants her to trust him so much it burns.

Feet touching lightly to the ground, Azriel’s massive wings kick up dirt, sending a wet cloud up and around them. Bringing up his wings, he shields himself and Gwyn from the mess, kneeling to set her feet on the ground. She groans and stretches her spine.

“Thank you, Az,” she says with a warm smile. He nods.

He pulls his wings back, air clear other than the rain. They walk through town toward what seems to be an inn, from what he can read on the weather battered sign. It’s nightfall, the sun setting as they passed through the emptying streets.

“Your mount?” Azriel inquires.

The Night Court’s spymaster was known to ride a winged Pegasus given to her by the High Lord of the Light Court as a gift. Said to be as black as night itself, with veins of sapphire running through its wings.

“A bit late for that, I think,” she says shyly. “I’m rather tired and I know you have to be beat.” He rolls his shoulders, the aching warmth of sore muscles he couldn’t deny. “We’ll stay the night at the inn. There should be some food left and then we can head to our room.”

Our room, his shadows prance up and down with sadistic glee.

Catching their movements and the look upon his face, she laughs cheerfully.

“I’m sure none of this is what you expected,” she says.

”It’s not that,” Azriel shakes his head, dark curls falling against his forehead. “I’ll be fine. A warm meal sounds perfect.”

They heft their bags in unison. Azriel follows behind, staying close, as Gwyn crosses the snowy yard to the inn. Inside the air is thick, hot, and loud. The rain has brought everyone indoors. He pulls the door shut behind them, entering a new world of spilled ale and fresh bread.

The main hall is large, and overly crowded, but otherwise not dissimilar from other inns he’s been too. A large fire crackles loudly in the double sided hearth at the center of the room.

Silence gathers around them like an impending storm. Dozens of eyes turn toward their direction, every patron in the inn deciding they were more interesting than their conversations. It’s too much, too many, and Azriel feels acutely exposed. His shadows have hidden from sight, tucking tight into his wings.

”Stop feckin’ staring,” A fae, who probably worked here, calls from across the room hefting a large jug onto the counter. “It’s not like ye haven’t seen the High Lord’s spymaster ‘afore.” This doesn’t sway the crowd. “Keep making my guests feel uncomfortable and I’m putting the good beer back down below!”

This does it. With low grumbles, the patrons turn away.

”Hello, Rita,” Gwyn greets loudly, voice strong and clear as it carries easily across the room. “How are you? How’s business?”

She makes her way over to where the other waits, long legs eating up the space. Azriel follows after her.

”Oh, I’m fine. Business is fine,” Rita says as she rounds the counter, wiping her hands upon her apron. “It’s good to see you.” The two hug one another tightly.

“It’s nice to see you too,” Gwyn returns, patting the shorter fae’s arm.

“Will you be needing your usual room?” Rita asks a bit skeptically, glancing at Azriel. “Do you want me to set up a bath?”

”No to both, I’m afraid,” Gwyn replies swiftly, resettling the bag on her shoulder. “I’m traveling with a partner. Could you put me in a double?”

”Of course,” Rita assures whipping her sharp gaze back to him. “Who are you?”

”I’m Azriel, a priest of the three. I’m assisting Gwyn on her assignment,” he says in return.

”Well, aren’t you a sweet one,” Rita responds with no sarcasm detected. “Well, the two of you look starved and haggard. Let me get you something hot.”

”We will take you up on that offer,” Gwyn thanks, “but we’ll take it in the room if its all the same?”

His shadows slip along his spine, a warning presses against his mind. Gwyn stands rigid beside him, hardly breathing. The hand at her side is gripped white. Raising his golden gaze, Azriel realizes that despite Rita’s warning, a majority of the hall remains starting, not at him, but her. Sudden barking laughter stabs through the air and she visibly flenches.

“Of course, spymaster.” Rita’s fishes in her pocket and pulls out a set of keys, tossing them into the air. “Top of the stairs, sixth from the left,” she says. “I’ll bring up two of tonight’s specials and some extra bread and ale. Sure about the bath?”

Azriel snatches the keys without hesitating.

“Three of the special, baths in the morning, I’d think,” he says. “Mulled wine rather than ale.”

”Of course!”

”Two of those, please,” Gwyn finishes for him. Her eyes meet his briefly before turning to the stairs.

He follows her up, flaring his wings just enough that they are less exposed. Azriel had no desire to linger in the room either, but Gwyn’s anxiety was palpable. The sixth door down the hallway was painted a flowery yellow and when Gwyn unlocked and pushed the door open it didn’t so much as emit a sound.

She practically bolts into the room and doesn’t stop until they’re both comfortably inside. The room is large, which he’s thankful for. His wings make it otherwise frustrating to be in small spaces. It was positively luxurious compared to his previous lodgings. Two chairs and a table sat before a humble fire place. There was a folding screen off to the side, a chest of drawers at the end of each bed and wash station beneath the sole window.

“I’ll take the bed nearest the door,” the spymaster says as she moves toward the fire, dropping her pack to the floor. This, he was fine with. It put him further from the fire.

“Worried, Gwyn?” He asks. He watched as she left the fireplace, picking up her pack and placing it on her claimed bed. He watches her hands as she unties the flaps.

“Oh, no,” Gwyn muses. “Rita would tear anyone apart before they even got to the stairs. Here.”

She holds out some of the extra clothing Emerie had provided him. Azriel crosses the room to take it from her. He takes a step back and sits atop his own bed. Exhaustion drapes across his shoulders like a heavy blanket.

“Are you alright,” he asks her, looking at the crackling fire beyond where she stands.

“The food will be here soon,” she says in way of answer. “I’ll feel better with a full belly.”

”Speaking of,” Azriel says, shadows alerting him to the footsteps and sound of rattling dishes coming up the hallway. He catches Gwyn’s gaze, her expression thoughtful.

“Do they always give you warning like that?” She asks. “Or do you have really good hearing?”

”Both,” he replies with a smirk.

Rising from the edge of the bed, Azriel goes to the door. Rita comes in with a tray overloaded with food and drink. Azriel takes as much as he can and sets it down upon the table, giving her thanks.

“How long will you be staying this time?” Rita asks.

”Only a night, hopefully. Two at most if we need to linger,” Gwyn answered. “Azriel will need time for some apothecaries work before we head out.”

”Oh?” Rita replies, eyebrows shooting up and eyes him. “Are you any good? I’d pay you well to stock up on some quality goods.”

”I’d be happy too, lady.”

”Such a sweetheart,” Rita says again. “Two nights then?”

”Two nights then,” Gwyn relinquishes with a smile tucked in to her cheek.

“Good!” Rita claps her hands. “I’ll go order you baths.”

Before Gwyn can protest or remind her otherwise, Rita swings the door open and exits in a flourish. The spymaster releases a good tempered sigh. Hadn’t they told her no baths? Rita seemed like the type that didn’t take no for an answer.

“Hungry?” Azriel asks, pulling a chair out from the table for Gwyn to sit.

“Starving,” she admits, plopping down, limbs loose and relaxed.

He sits across from her. The steam from the bowls and plate of bread wafts through the room and Azriel’s stomach grumbles loudly.

“Praise be to the three,” Gwyn declares and Azriel closes his eyes in prayer. “Let’s eat!”

He huffs a laugh, reopening his eyes. Gwyn is already digging her utensils into the meat pies.

“So,” she says between bites. “What else can your shadows do? That’s how you winnow, yes? Through them?”

Azriel swallows his food down and looks up to meet her gaze. Expectantly she waits, curiosity swirling in blue green depths.

“Yes, to both,” he offered, popping another bite of dinner into his mouth. “As for the rest, I’m not sure I should give you all my secrets so easily.”

”You assume you have any,” Gwyn teases. “Spymaster, remember.” She points to herself with a fork and Azriel chuckles.

“Fair,” he replies between bites. “So, then, Night Court’s greatest spy, what are my secrets?”

She finishes her bite slowly, regarding him with a measured look. Azriel chews thoughtfully, feeling brave for holding her gaze for so long, not entirely afraid of what she might know about him, but willing to except that its out of his hands and nothing he can take back now.

“You’re bastard born,” she begins, easing back into her chair. “Biological father unknown. We have that in common, it seems.” She gives him a small smile before going on. “There are no early records of you. It’s like you didn’t exist before you were given to the temples.”

It’s because he hadn’t. At least, no by common terms. His mother’s husband had kept him locked up, out of sight.

“We assume-“

”We?” Azriel inquires.

”Rhys and I,” Gwyn offers. She’s surprisingly open with him and questions begin bubbling at the back of his mind. “We assume you suffered some form of abuse at the hands of your mother’s husband, especially given your scars, and what we know of your mother.”

”And what do you know of my mother?” Azriel asked, the timber of his voice low, rumbling, and edged with ice - not quite a growl. His shadows swirl, not yet irritated, but worried.

“I mean no harm,” Gwyn reminded him. “We are just aware of her.”

”Then you understand my concerns,” he rushes. She nods, eyeing him and the shadows atop his shoulders, movements growing restless.

“You send her money from contracting work you do outside of your priestly responsibilities. You also send her send her the allowance given to you by the Night Court. You bought her a house-“

”Gwyn,” he warns, gaze darkening and threat lowering his tone further. While he had grown to like the spymaster in such a short time, he would never allow himself or her make his mother vulnerable.

“You asked,” she reminded him kindly. “Her location won’t be shared. It is your secret, shadowsinger.”

The whipping movements of his shadows is slow to dissipate. He had been so careful about the location of his mother’s home. He never sent correspondence from the same place twice. Even the boy Azriel paid to bring her food and mail was a closely guarded secret.

Gwyn clears her throat and continues.

“You know four languages fluently, and a least another dozen at basic level. You excel in translation, your penmanship and ability to copy manuscript is as impressive as your wingspan. When you aren’t doing tedious choirs required of you by your High Priest, you spend your time in the library, reading.” She pauses to take a sip of wine. “You prefer to be alone, despite being surrounded by priestly brothers. You’re also a bit of an insomniac.” She takes a breath. Azriel recalls every time she’d been at the Tower. Just how long had they been watching him? “I’m going to assume you have questions.”

”Why me?” It was out of his mouth before he could think better of it. “I may have command for language and pen and vellum, but I’m not the most qualified to help find those books.”

”And yet, you are,” she replies with a smile directed at his shadows. Ah. Now he understood.

“Because I’m a shadowsinger,” he affirms. Gwyn’s smile broadens and she nods. “And the High Lord is aware that I’m a shadowsinger.” She nods again. “And this will not be the only assignment I help you with, will it?”

”Now you have it,” she confirms.

“Am I to be a spy and torturer, then?” The harshness of his tone gives her pause. Whatever doors she’d opened before, closed, gaze darkening. He’d never seen those sea eyes look so cold. Here was the infamous spymaster and he’d been utterly fooled into thinking she was anything less. “I didn’t mean-“

”It’s all right,” she says flatly. “I am well aware of who and what I am,” she says with icy resolve. “The rest you assume correctly. You will assist me in whatever manner the High Lord wishes.”

He ponders the significance of this, dropping his gaze from hers so that he could continue eating, taking sips of his wine from time to time. Gwyn gives him the space, for which he’s thankful.

“Do you know how those are used?” She asks after a while. Meal finished, she leans back in her chair, legs stretched out long before her. Gwyn motions toward the syphons he has at his palms, fit into his gloves. He wears two more in bracers at his wrists, two at his biceps beneath his robes and the last in a choker at his neck. “You have as many as Cass,” she says thoughtfully, referring casually to the General.

“I do,” Azriel responds with a nod. “Illyrian magic isn’t exactly nuanced. Killing magic is killing magic.”

Gwyn says nothing, only regards him expressionless. He had no love for the Illyrians and wouldn’t hide that fact from her. They watch one another, each measuring, calculating, assuming. He wondered what she was thinking.

”Can you read my mind?” She asks and he startles, choking on his mouthful of wine. Could she read his?

”Huh,” he sputters. “No, Gwyn, I cannot.” She doesn’t seem convinced. “It’s more an awareness, a study of reactions. It’s hard to describe.”

”I get it,” she replies. “But no interest in being a spy, eh?” A delicately carved eyebrow rises, questioning him.

He blinks at her.

”Don’t look so worried,” she chides. “I have no intention of bringing you, or anyone for that matter, into the Night Court’s darker business. Knowing the ugly side of things doesn’t need to be everyone’s responsibility,” she says this part softly, under her breath, but he catches it nonetheless. Did she not like being the High Lord’s spymaster? It couldn’t be all Pegasi and rainbows.

“Can you do magic?” He asks, trying to bring her back around, missing her smile. His shadows all but gasp at the thought and Azriel fights rolling his eyes.

“Mhm,” she hums, intent on not explaining further.

”No desire to tell me more?” He pushes the words through shadow, intent sharp, and delivers his message right to her ear without moving his lips. Gwyn’s head snaps up, staring at him, startled.

”How did you do that?” She asks.

”Intent, pushing my will through shadow, intended for you.” Azriel explains as simply as he can.

“Clever,” she admits, relaxing again. “I imagine your intent could go beyond speech?”

Azriel nods.

”I can use them to hide, misdirect, entice,” he says. “All manner of things one would find within shadow.” He takes a long sip of wine.

“Well now you’re just showing off, Az.” She squints at him.

“You asked,” he deadpans, setting down his glass and returning to his pie. “I can also do this.” Gwyn’s eyes grow impossibly larger as Azriel’s intent directs his shadows to manifest, gather, and touch her lightly on the arm. She jumps at the contact.

”Did you just poke me?”

”I would have described it as a tap,” Azriel replies between bites, drumming his fingers along the table. “But, yes.”

Gwyn reaches for her wine, eyeing him with a frown before taking a long deep drink. He doesn’t have to read her mind to know how much it’s racing. She swallows and pins him with a sharp look.

”I have some control over flame, and summoning water,” she finally admits. “And maybe a few other things left to be determined. I haven’t quite figured them out myself.” Azriel watches her thoughtfully. “Have you never used your gifts as a priest?” She asks, to which he shakes his head. “Then how did you practice? How do you know to use them?”

”Pranks,” Azriel confirms.

“Pranks?” The corners of Gwyn’s mouth tilt up and his shadows dance victoriously. “Surely the priests of the Night Court are beyond such petty endeavors,” she teases.

“Priests, yes,” Azriel agrees, his own grin cocking to the side. “Twelve year old fae? Hardly.” He takes an other drink. “I grew up alongside a dozen others abandoned to the temples. I haven’t met an Elder yet who could manage that many fools. So yes, Gwyn, pranks.”

She’s grinning by the time he’d done explaining.

“Well, I’m grateful to know some things are universal,” she says thoughtfully, crossing her ankles. “I suppose we should head down to the baths, or Rita will march up here and drag us down by our ears.”

Yes, baths. Azriel had nearly managed to forget about that part.

Liar, shadows seethed.

“Tonight we shall bathe like High Ladies!” Gwyn exclaims with barely their enthusiasm. Her fatigue leaks into her voice. She sighs with contentment and stands. “We can leave those for Rita’s staff,” she says to him when he reaches for the empty dishes. “Bring anything you want to wash. We can dry it by the fire.”

Surely she wasn’t implying that they were bathing together? Together, together. Gwyn grabs her pack and heads to the door, looking at him over her shoulder.

“Coming?”

She doesn’t wait for him. Azriel grabs his own pack and makes to follow her. Gwyn locks their door behind them, muttering about Rita being the only other with a key, and heads down a small staircase at the end of the hallway.

The stairs give way to a long, wood paneled hallway that’s dimly lit. Sounds from the main room could be heard on the other side. Delicate, twinkling lights hand from the ceiling, lighting their way.

“Here we are,” she says happily.

Gwyn opens the last door at the end of the gall. Billows of steam rush from the open portal. Azriel’s heart begins to beat faster, so fast, he’s sure he’ll pass out momentarily. Perhaps it would be how he died - from the threat of bathing next to the spymaster. How. Awful.

Yet, there was no death to be found inside. Instead, four large stalls, two on each side of the room, with walls and doors that didn’t quite reach the roof. In the center of the room two wooden benches flanked a circular grill filled with glowing, heated rocks.

“Enjoy your bath, shadowsinger,” Gwyn says, a distant tease in her words. She withdraws into a stall, shutting the door behind her.

Azriel snaps back to conscious thought, his shadows snickering at him. Choosing the stall next to hers, Azriel closes the door and locks it. He begins to disrobe, starting with his boots. Using the bucket at the head of the tub, he fills it with water and goes about the task of wiping his shoes clean, and any dirt from his clothing.

He could hear Gwyn in the next stall, the shift of fabric rustling as she removed her clothing. Azriel steps to the tub, filled with steaming bath water, and dunks his entire head beneath the surface. It didn’t help. In fact, it was as if he were in there with her… droplets of water steaming against her skin, sliding down her back.

Cut it out, he tells his shadows and himself. He was traveling with her, working with her, yes, but that gave him no license to lust after the spymaster. He gets up only to step fully into the tub, which is far too small for his frame and not equipped for his wings. Azriel makes it work, cleaning himself furiously, attempting to make as much noise as possible so that he couldn’t hear Gwyn. Was she washing with the pine-rosemary soap he’d seen her stash away in her bag?

Azriel finishes washing quickly, using the soft towels atop a stool to pat himself dry. The stone floor is cold beneath his feet. He pulls on fresh socks and begins to dress.

“Are you ready, Az?” Gwyn calls suddenly from the otherside of his stall. She’s shifting before the door, creaking the floorboards.

“Yes,” he answers, opening the door as he picks up his things. He tries not to look directly at her.

Following her out of the bathing chamber, Azriel follows her back to their room. The journey is silent. She goes about hanging some wet underthings she’d washed. He takes the opportunity to crawl atop his bed, rolling onto his side so that he might look out the window.

He couldn’t deny the urges he felt. It’s not like it was the first time he’d felt this way about another - the burning desire to touch, taste, to own. Gwyn was not for him to want. Or to have. He was here to help her, to prove he had value beyond his priesthood.

And think about what she’s been through, he argues with himself. The last thing she needs is a horny Illyrian, drooling after her steps, touching her with his disgusting hands.

Azriel shuts his eyes, refusing to acknowledge the contradiction in his feelings and thoughts.

“Good night, Azriel,” Gwyn says to his back, voice kind and soft.

”Good night, Gwyn,” he replies, praying to the Mother for sleep.

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x gwyn #Azriel #gwyn berdara #ao3fic

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stuck1nthelimbo · 4 months

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im so normal about them — 📌 post | masterlist | ko-fi

5 》NTR - Drunk/Tipsy Sex - Fuck Machine ― Battering Past [OG Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader]

When a girl's tired and only has food on her mind, what should she do when in front of the opened door is her not-so-innocent ex? Well, let him in, he's a giant D.

TAGS!!! 2.1k, tipsy sex, teasing, rough, slight choking, idk how do people tag this shit

you cannot tell me sukuna wouldn't be that one ex you cant even talk about with friends, cuz you'd say "oh he's a massive dick but ALSO has a massive dick" /// the artwork is THE SUKUNA i had in mind, that's how he looks like in my head, without missing eye. oh he big and he bad (the art is to die for, man) id tag the artist but I'm shy its not up to their liking

also happy very belated new years, mfs

The incoherent jabbering of an anchorman cloaks me with heavy mantle: I loll my head and gently rock back and forth in an armchair. The pizza I’ve ordered should arrive any minute now, so I’m keeping myself as alert as possible, attention diverted from the 9 o’clock news to the front door. It’s been a tiring afternoon, and my mouth waters at the thought of the beer in the fridge.

The heavy, loud bang snaps me out of the weighty stupor, and I spring to my feet, stumbling to the door. Swinging it wide open, the performative smile dries up as, instead of the delivery person, I’m greeted with a large figure looming between the door frame wearing nothing but a sleeveless white “wife beater” and black gym shorts. I huff a sigh of revulsion: one man on this godforsaken floating green rock wears the aforementioned clothes outdoors, unironically.

“What the hell you want, Sukuna?”

“Well, good to see you too, sweetheart,” the bulky man strides without an invitation. I’m perplexed, chewing on lower lip, my eyebrows knotting in disgust and confusion. He slumps into an armchair, reaching for the remote, before jumping back up. My pizza has been delivered: I nod at the person standing outside, collecting my order. The lanky delivery guy politely smiles and I close the door, only meeting wide eyes, grinding teeth and a defensive stance after I turn around, “who was that?”

“Oh, dear God,” I can’t even muster a joke, he’s this insufferable. I place the pizza on the coffee table in front of the TV and head to the kitchen to retrieve the chilled beer. Out of courtesy, I bring several cans to share with the man stretched out on the sofa, “you need anything, mister?”

“Come on, can’t I check in on my girl?” His throaty laugh makes me scrunch my nose.

“Ex-girl, ex,” emphasizing the prefix, I flick the latch on top of a can and take the sip. Glancing at him from the corners of my eyes, noticing he’s already staring daggers at me, I turn my head, maintaining eye contact. He lazily averts the gaze, clicking his tongue and chugging the beer. Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, long calloused fingers dent the can, crumpling it between them like a piece of thin paper. “The last time you came, I had to call the police and the fire department,” I state, while he reaches for the slice of pizza and stuffs it entirely in his mouth. My lips press together, forming a thin line in frustration, and I guzzle the beer in a single gulp, whilst my hand reaches for the second can.

In the meantime, his posture straightens, he thwacks the crumbs off his lap, and shuffles closer to me. Large, veiny arms surround me in an attempt to pull me toward his chest. The beer gradually takes over me, spreading throughout my body, and knotting around each muscle and joint; The heat pools between my legs.

“Sukuna, you want something?” The straightforward question startles him: he lets up, flopping back, defeated, shoulders droop against the backrest of the sofa.

“Do you want an honest answer or …?” He mutters and I chuff; His lips pucker and eyes roll, “I want pussy.”

“Wow,” why did I expect anything from him? It’s a surprise he didn’t bend me over the railing outside my door. Shaking my head in disbelief, the cracked open third beer sizzles.

“At least I’m bein’ fuckin’ honest,” he grabs another beer can off the table alongside the slice of pizza.

“The fuck that means?” I blink.

“Womanizer ex, who cheated on you left and right?” ah, the stroll down memory lane, “cultist boyfriend, who almost got you killed?” Still remember the chanting and candles, gives me the creeps every time, “broke-ass man, who dipped when you loaned him money?” Just finished with the payments in the bank, “and technically –”

“Ok, enough!” I interrupt, “you can’t say shit!” I growl at him, and he snickers; I must resemble a chihuahua: tiny, trembling like a leaf and full of seething rage, barking up at a predator triple my size. He coughs, with laughter in between each gasp. That small percentage of alcohol must be dampening my anger, because I don’t feel like fighting him further.

“Why not, kitty?” Sukuna picks up the cues, eyes darken, he prowls toward me; his voice drops, cooing in deep raspy vocals. The shoulders flex when he sits upright, slowly towering over me, “am I getting on your nerves, sweetie?”

I sway side to side, eyes squinting, adjusting my glazed vision on him, while one of his palms finds way to my throat, the other clasps around my hand and brings it to his thigh. The rock hard erection struggles against the flimsy boxers, twitching under my fingers. I might choose toxic men to date, but one thing is guaranteed: they are toxic in bed as well. Energetic and toxic. Yes, Sukuna fights with everyone, recently charged with battery, however he fucks like an animal in heat. He has never laid a finger on me, was solely a jealous boyfriend, so I can blind myself for one evening.

“You’re so annoying,” unable to control the volume of my voice, I whisper and tug on his shirt, pulling him, while he simultaneously forces me on his lap; Both of the bulky arms embrace my waist, grinding the bulge on my clothed pussy. I whimper and the last fiber of coherence evaporates.

“I’m annoying and you’re a slut,” he coos, stifling a laughter. Nudging me from behind, his lips feast on my neck as I tilt toward him. My fingers slither in the hair and push his head deeper, teeth grazing the delicate skin on my throat. He roams and laps all around my neck, before I hear a winded breathing, “take it off,” he pants below my ear.

I crawl off his lap, lazily sliding the undies down my legs; He thrashes, yanking his boxers frantically, nearly unraveling at the seams, before tossing them away; Sukuna stretches his arms out, impatiently motioning me to sit back down. His enormous and girthy cock now stands tall and proud: trimmed thin line of hair, a happy trail fades around the thick base, faint blue veins run along the entire length, the bulbous tip leaks clear pre-cum.

“Happy to see me?” I ridicule him taking a seat on his lap, now beginning to brush bare pussy on the underside of his cock. He grunts, eyes glue to the area our bodies converge. His hands clutch on my sides, above the hips, guiding them; I’m purposely sloppy, propping up with hands stapled on his knees and tracking Sukuna’s expressions: shifting from worried frown to desperate stare, silently begging me. I disregard his pleas, until his hand scurries alongside the delicate skin just to grab me by the throat, pulling closer and staring into my eyes.

“Don’t play with me, slut,” his voice, deeper than before, hypnotizes. I raise myself without breaking the eye contact he’s forcing me to maintain and lower my pussy on his cock. The moment I painfully stretch to accommodate his huge girth, my eyes involuntarily unfocus, rolling back into the skull.

“Fuck,” mouth hangs agape as the same word spills through my lips repeatedly, my palms relocate from his knees to the exerting and flexed shoulders, nails prickling into the skin. The hands remaining on my waist push me down until his entire length’s inside, my clit brushing against his groin. The palm around my neck gets tighter, thumb and middle fingers pressing on the sides of my throat, cutting the blood circulation.

“You’re not lettin’ me go,” the breathy laughter steams over my face; jolting his thighs, the tip of rock-hard cock scrapes the deepest crevices of my cunt, and my legs jerk from the swirl of pain and pleasure, “did you miss me that much?” he’s quiet, spelling each word followed by brash thrusts, while synchronously pushing me down.

“Sukuna,” I muster the leftover strength in me to string two words, “it hurts,” the erratic rolls of hips imply otherwise. Each time he drags himself in and out, I feel the veins throb inside. Feels as if the brain’s about to melt and pour out of my ears.

“Aha, mhm,” he nods, mocking me with a scornful grin. Sukuna releases my throat, and both palms grasp my thighs, “touch yourself,” tone demanding, my hand glides on his muscular chest, toned stomach, and nudges on my swollen clit. I circle the sensitive bud, the warm pleasure pools beneath my navel. A helpless, dazed smile plasters across my face. Sukuna’s proud and sly chuckle echoes and blends with the background noises, “do you like it?” he’s a menace and I promptly nod.

His hands dig into my flesh, momentarily halting all motion, before stilling me midair, just to jackhammer from below. I let out a loud cry, my fingernails clawing at his now sweaty and damp shoulders, legs lose their footing: I’m completely at his mercy as he fucks into me with brute strength and without relenting. His eyes haven’t left my contorting expressions, fully immersed in the pleasure of breaking me. My finger doesn’t lay off the swirling over the clit, and the wet sounds echo in our ears. His thighs smack against mine from underneath, burying his cock inside me with each thrust.

The pain-weaved pleasure churns my stomach, make me go cross-eyed. I squeeze the eyes shut, indulging myself while Sukuna ravages my nearly limping body; His fingers bruise my hips, grunts indicating slight exhaustion spit through his teeth. The alcohol must’ve wounded his capacity, he slows down and after a while, halts all movement, staring at me star struck.

I whine and Sukuna rolls his eyes at me, urging and pointing with his jaw at the place where we’re connected. I pout, re-positioning, slowly raising and lowering pussy on his cock. Despite incapability to match his animalistic speed, I pamper myself with the sensation of being stretched around him, the thickness molding my pussy to his liking. Rolling hips, eyes shut, focused on reaching an orgasm, I fail to notice his hand creeping up behind me, hitching a fistful of hair and yanking my head back. Eyes flutter open, staring up at the ceiling whilst the gummy pussy walls clamp around him. I wince when something sharp grazes my nipple.

The fleshy tongue and supple lips replace teeth, sucking onto the bud. My pussy spasms each time his tongue laps against it, fingers firmly balled up in my hair. Another palm caresses the side above my rolling hips, pulling me closer. He nibbles on the nipple again, gently rolling between front teeth while jerking his thighs. I mewl, my hands blindly scouring his sweaty, damp shoulders and securing on his nape, twirling short strands of hair.

My legs about to give up, bouncing on his large body isn’t easy, and the tempo of thrusts slow down, drawing whimpers and sobs out of me. Suddenly my chest feels empty and body - light, I briefly notice the background shift around me. My brain doesn’t register the change until I’m sandwitched between the cold wall behind and Sukuna’s muscular torso. My legs dangling over his elbows, spread apart and his cock nudging against my sopping pussy. The tip grazes on the clit, my cunt spasms around nothingness and digits clutch on his face.

“Please, please, fuck me,” I cannot sound more pathetic and desperate than this. And as soon as he pounds into me, the cock painfully stretching my walls around it, burying itself to the hilt. I drop my mouth in a silent gasp, eyes shut as my stomach twists and turns in pleasurable pain. He rolls hips vigorously, pulling and thrusting in a manner, that makes my entire body bounce from the pounding. His grunts and low moans draw my attention and as soon I lift my head, his lips crash onto mine, tongue lapping against my own. My half-lidded eyes stare unfocused, entirely giving in to be used as a fleshlight.

My cunt gushes all over him, sucking his cock in, while my hips tremble and my brain melts into an ecstatic full-bodied exhilarating orgasm. My skin tingles, blank head swims in the sea of endorphins, I hardly feel him pump me full of cum, fucking it inside with spasmodic tremble of his thighs. He groans and grunts and whimpers beside my ear, boosting my ego. The thrusts slow down, viscous fluid seeps out of my sore and used cunt, smearing on the buttocks until droplets fall to the floor.

He slumps backward into the sofa and I - lifelessly on top of him, his ragged breathing brushes over my neck, chest raising and dropping heavily; My limp body rests on him, and his gruff throaty laugh reverberates in the room.

“Damn, doll,” his nasal huffs twist my stomach. The arms circle my waist, pulling me into a selfish embrace; Sukuna’s head presses against the back of the sofa, listless eyes staring at the ceiling. I murmur some insult, hopefully he hasn’t heard it. As my arms regain some strength, I prop my body up, glaring at him.

“Ditto,” he doesn’t look at me or move, only softly shuts his eyes, crooked grin plastered on his lips.

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sapphirecrook · 5 months

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[STORY] Call Me Fang - C. 3-1 Getting the band back together

TUMBLR TEXT:

Download (it looks nicer)

ORIGINAL:

I dunno why, but my writing style is 'ahead, and little bits at a time' its very strange.

-----

I’ve been standing outside the music room for a few minutes. Finding it took some time, so naturally, I’m late. How did that even happen? I was literally in History/Civics class with Reed two minutes ago? I could’ve followed him? I guess the fear of small talk and exposure was just too much.

Hanging out near the door, and pushing my head against it, I can hear their conversation. Once more, I am reminded I have wings. These stupid things are nothing but a bother.

They are talking about “L&L” and bugs. Nerds. At least they’re not gossiping about me getting my wings caught on the door in history class.

Come to think of it, I have no idea how much Fang has communicated this change in style. If there is a change. I should stick to my tactic so far. Charge through, apologize later. Better too much than too little, had too many times undercommunication killed it.

I can’t delay forever, and playing the sneaky little spy only makes me look like shit.

To quote the wise Brooklynite: let’s a go.

I swing the door open with bravado and step in. Door shut with a bump of the butt, arms in my side, time to pull every ounce of confidence into a single 30 minute conversation. Home stretch. There’s hair in my face, as this silver waterfall is remarkably unruly. Still.

Giving it a look, the music room is a music room. Chairs for a whole band or choir, instruments in a massive closet, residual music stands, and of course… the posters. Treble clef anyone?

Trish and Reed sit on the very large windowsill. Reed’s tail is idly brushing the floor with its feathery tip, while Trish is excitedly explaining how bug slime nets work. Which Mr. Pink muses has use in his “L&L” game. They were both ready to play, as the drumset was the only instrument given space, and a bass guitar was right below Ms. Purple’s seating area.

“Everyone here?” I demand to know. Standing tall over all of them.

Actually, I am the tallest in the group. Good. Trish’s eyes roll like marbles at my meaningless demands. “Dude, we’re a band of three people.”

“Alright. Let’s do this!” I take a lungful of air and then… “So, what did you do to bribe LJ?” Reed takes some wind out of my sail by setting the conversation instead. It was a topic I intended but…

“Okay, yea. The trailer I sent. Okay, let me just play it for you.” I look around and find the hookup to the sound mixer and speakers, as well as a nice guitar to go along with it. No reason to play that file directly off my phone speaker like a pleb.

I am not ready for this. But maybe, if I just go real hard and fast, they won’t be able to notice and I can twist and turn things to suit the narrative. Confidence first. Deep breath, straight face, piledriver.

Master of the mind.

Playing a song I played only a few times in fragments will be hard. My fingers hover over the strings. Akin to gravity, they twist into the proper posture to play the instrument, anticipating.

There’s that feeling again. That underlying bubbling feeling of spectral hands grasping mine and guiding them along. I close my eyes and feel myself getting sucked into a cold, wet, dark abyss, where ever lyrical line becomes glowing bubbles.

It’s at once a struggle for survival, yet easier than breathing.

I found myself teetering on the edge of a cliff when it ended. The last few notes and words echo off the walls briefly, leaving me standing there. I can’t think of what to say.

My face was burning and glowing. I didn’t notice before, but it makes me smile. “And… uhm… that’s what she likes?”

I look them over, and they seem… engrossed? Trish even got the bass and had put a few notes to my score. My face feels like lava, as I realize I managed to entertain them so directly. Muscle memory is Fang’s, but the stage fright is alllll me. I’m contributing.

“That is a few towns over from our old stuff, ain’t it?” Reed gestures as he breaks the enchantment. “It’s good, but… yea.” He seems to like it? Trish’s expression is less optimistic. She’s frowning, rubbing her chin, looking at the ground left to right. “Yea, I’d sooner believe she’s setting us up. You know, a nice loser band to make Swamp Babies pop. Why else would she turn us away so many times only to just… turn at… I dunno. It doesn’t make sense to me.”

“The returning champion wins again.” Reed appends with a sigh, shaking his head. “So, we’re supposed to change our style in… a week. Six days or something? Like, how are we gonna do that?” “Reed’s got a point. I like it, doesn’t mean I can do it without time. Crushing this on a short schedule is a feat. Between babysitting and projects and stuff, time’s a crunch.”

The two are both looking down and away. They’re digging holes, time to fill em up. With confidence. Luckily, I bothered to think ahead. It’s the only way to keep my head from going to bad places. Felt weird that Fang would send LJ trailers without… the rest of the band playing.

It takes a second to build up my resolve, and when I do, I give my answer with boisterous noise. “And that’s where you’re wrong. Nothing’s impossible with a pinch of magic.” I can’t resist gesturing with hands and body, to emphasize the point.

“Cool, cast your spell, o mighty wizard.” Reed grins, as if he had the fullest confidence before even hearing it. His posture loosened, to receive the spell.

“Nah, man, Fang’s a witch. No books on them!” Trish finger guns me. I can’t help but smile again.

My plan isn’t the best. It basically puts all the work on me. Given this band thing is Fang’s idea, that’s fair enough. Sins of the body-father. Body-parent. I seem to have this new music down fine, and I have more time to practice. In fact, I’m new to it, whether we play the old or the new stuff. Thus… “I’m talking about backing instruments. We can use the MIDI box, right?” I hold up the weird slab next to the sound board. The cute post-it is the only reason I can identify it as such. Fang had one, and it took little to sort out the what and how. “Probably. There’s usually some solo artists or like, half bands. So I doubt we’d get slammed for it.” The purple punk concedes. “So. What if, say. We take what we know, and turn it into something else? Like, there’s only so many guitar chords and notes on a scale. Just dress it up in vibes and moods, some spiffy lyrics, and badaboom badabing.” My growing confidence leaves a mark. Even the worm-hugger seems to get sucked into it.

They exchange glances.

Admittedly, this entire plan was me screwing around with the MIDI controller back at Fang’s place and figuring out some workable ideas.

To cover MY ass.

Making the best of it.

Twisting it to suit the rest of the band’s asses is two birds, one stone.

Letting the idea simmer, Reed gives his feedback. “That’s… actually pretty clever.”

Man, this is going pretty damn great.

What is that feeling? That odd breeze on my rear?

Oh.

The tail.

What are social terms on tail related movement? “Man, here I was, thinking we’d actually have to try. Turns out Worm Drama was nothing but style and talent from day one.” Leaning back further, the purple horned one crossed and plants her ankles on the back of the chair near her. Oozing suave. Pinkie slides into thought, before raising a finger to ask a poignant question. “Uh, not to undercut your high, Fang, but do you think you can retool a song like that in a week?”

“No worries, Reed. You guys just gotta send me a line you can work with.” I really should figure out what instruments they play. “Or, whatever you feel you’re best with. Then, I merge them together. It’s easier to build with a foundation, after all. I’ll send you the finished version Sunday, so you can digest it.” “Is that enough time?” His skepticism is telling. Fair enough. I can, apparently, make a trailer work in a day. A whole new song? I’m not sure if that’s necessary, but I guess we can’t play the old, nor have them learn the new thing I made… “If you can send me the lines today or tomorrow, I have at least a few days to write alpha versions, let them sink in, digest, regurgitate. It’ll be tight, but look, I don’t have extracurriculars, it’s fine.”

“Def was nervous earlier. Yet all I see now is why you’re the boss.” Violet finger guns and a wink and smile.

Honestly, I was expecting someone to comment on my voice. Somehow, I’ve been close enough that nobody noticed or cares? As they say, nothing but net. “Are they? I thought Fang was more of a de facto leader.”

“Reed, dude, head vocalists are always the leader.” “Or the guitar.” Pink shrugs. “Double leader, triple president. Fang, your family is made of layered leadership.”

“Ah, I see Naser told you about it too?” I snicker. “Just walk past his ‘office’ and you’ll hear him say it to everyone that comes in. Curious how his big opening speeches are gonna go, given that campaign of his.” “Say what you want, but Naser has charisma. I’d definitely make out with him if Fang wouldn’t kill me for it.” Reed sinks into the window, arms behind his back. Showing off his armpits since his shirt covers none of that.

“You’ll have to fight Stella for the honor though.” I didn’t even hear Trish. Excuse me? “Uh, Reed, what the hell?”

“I’m kidding. Come on.”

I’m not really pissed. I’m living up to my assigned role as Reed Assassin. “If I catch you mackin’ with Naser you’re getting a one-way trip to the moon.” I can’t muster the sincerity to make it sound like a real threat. Though, if anything, they love it.

“Macking?”

“Hey, heard the moon’s nice this time of year.” Reed winks. “Perfect for a triple president honeymoon.”

The foundations of laughter, the bubbling of snickers, push up my throat. My face contorts, and strange, nasal guttural sounds pop from my nostrils. The crack of Reed’s wit whip works because it catches me off guard.

“God fucking damnit Reed!” How have I met this guy, like, a few hours ago?

I hardly noticed our bassist getting up and deciding it was enough, even if all she’d really done was idly play along with me. “Oh, well, nice to catch up. I gotta hit up Rosa for some things, important top secret projects.”

“Thanks for the moral support.” Wait. “Wait, your basslines?”

“I’ll send them tonight, don’t worry.” Her head pokes through the doorway as she shoots me an extended tongue. Fair.

Things wind down quickly.

I sit on the windowsill.

Reed took it to himself to play me the drum beat he wanted to use. That he felt confident had ‘enough flexibility to fit anything, but enough style to impress’ or something. Reed has mastered the art of being capable, serious, and seeming like he doesn’t give a shit at once. I half expect him to go ‘one more thing’ and blow my case wide open. Just pull off Fang’s face like a rubber mask like a meddling kid.

While he plays, I look myself over. I peer at my reflection in the window, and wonder. It’s strange to see another person’s face like that. I make faces, and they mirror. I’m getting too sucked into this. Tomorrow's another roll of the dice for this to just go away.

Then, I am taking a few weeks sabbatical to recover from straining every single social muscle. And maybe pick up that offer with Rex. Finally get him to shut up about that. Go to the pool and just float about. Get some hot tub hours. Yes.

Gonna treat myself for once.

A smooth landing for the returning traveler. Or perhaps I’ll just wake up in bed. Not a day missed. Ah. It can be that fortuitous!

As we wrap up, crack a few gags, he gets a bit more serious.

“Might have to skip on getting us the usual band ride. My van is totally trashed.”

“What happened?”

“Hm. Lemme think. I might’ve been stoned off my ass taking a hairpin turn. And like an idiot, overcorrect and uh… well, I’m alive. The van just needs a lot of dents pulled. So you either carry your own guitar, or you know, use whatever LJ’s got lying around.”

“Don’t freaking puff and drive!”

“It was that, or be home after midnight on a Sunday. And neither of my moms would give me amnesty in that case.”

“That’s just bad planning.”

I get up, and stretch. I push every feeling of being a personal space invader to the back of my mind, and try to focus. Look forward. It’s gonna be fine.

Reed seems to be busy thinking, so I’ll leave him to it. Unfortunately, that posture breaks before I can open the door. It’s for me.

“Yo, got a minute?”

“What’s wrong, Reed?”

“Just wanted to ask… you alright? Not too nervous about this audition thing, right? This might be that big break.” He looks dead at me, with a slight squint. Well, not really a squint, more an analytical frown. So he’s probably not projecting. That’s how it works, right? “I’m fine.” Shrug. “Hey, if you need some R&R time, I host L&L games” There’s the hook. I got a guess what he’s talking about. “Trish is in there. Sage too. Perfect time to take a load off and laugh. Naomi’s in, and Rosa. So everyone.” Everyone but me, huh? Although I have deftly avoided Stella and Sage so far. Wait, is he recruiting me under the guise of wellness? Sneaky. “L&L?” “Legends and Lore. It’s a tabletop roleplaying game? It’s like…”

Man, parallels are something around here. Can’t wait to find the complete works of Henry Shakescale and the musical talents of Mozartodon. “Oh, I know what those are.” Holy shit, he perks up instantly. His adorable, fluffy tail tip starts wagging side to side like a broom. “Sure, maybe later. After the audition. This weekend’s short notice.” Stalling for time, baby. I’d prefer to do some personal research first too.

“Cool, cool.”

I take a minute. Just standing here with Reed on his drumming stool. It’s nice. He’s pretty cute. Laid back. Like a big ol pillow. Trish has more of that big friend-energy.

“Weird summer, huh?”

I look up, and shrug. “I’ll be honest, weirdest one yet.” Sure has been.

Can’t wait to get some more downtime to process any of it.

“Never took Trish for the camp type.”

“Mhm.” Sure, that’s the weird one, buddy. “I gotta go. I wanna be there on time. Naser needs his moral support.”

“I’ll be on the roof, keep lookout for potential party crashers.”

#goodbye volcano high #GVH #callmefang

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uncouth-the-fifth · 3 years

Note

imagine damian and the reader at the wayne gala. he gets jealous when he sees her flirting with someone else. he ends up pulling her into a bathroom and fucking her in front of a mirror while saying that other person can’t treat her like he does

and that’s how the reader finds out damian has feelings for her. all this time he acted like he hates her because he’s in denial

Title: More Than They Ever Said

Paring: Robin!Damian (18+) / Canary!Reader

Tags/Warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, bathroom sex, slight underage drinking (reader is like 20 lol), mentions of golf.

Word Count: 7150

Notes: sooooo.... this def evolved beyond a drabble lol. the way gala sex kills me every time 😭 I was a little mushy w Dami here bc I miss his sweet side. This also sounded a lot like goldenspecs12's request from Wattpad, so I hope you don't mind that I meshed the two together 😚 I leaned toward Damian liking the reader more than being in denial, but that’s the only thing I sacrificed between the two requests. This one is my fluffiest and most romantic yet 💖

"can I request Damian w a Queen reader, like she's Oliver and Dinah's child? say the reader is a hero but not very active, like she comes in when her parents can't. so when she and Damian meet, they hit it off. The main request is that they sneak away at a gala held by Oliver and the reader and Damian have sex."

Ask to be added to my taglist for future posts!

The party was more fun than you thought it would be.

Benefits were usually chalk-full of old, wealthy people that thought they made good conversationalists. The board members of Queen Industries were tired of Oliver trying to escape their claws, so you’d been recruited in his place. While your dad got to play minigolf in the penthouse’s massive party floor, you were confined to the lounge, playing up what an intelligent, capable business partner you’d be when you were CEO. Fellow businessmen gruffed about their plans with you while their wives cooed and drank, pinching your cheeks.

You thought that you’d hate it, but the attention and the praise was nice. It made you feel like you were helping your dad and your family’s company, which was constantly criticized and judged for it’s choice in CEO. Everyone called your father a lazy silver-spooned idiot, but he was one of the only men in Star City who actually cared. By the time you had Q.I’s biggest donors laughing out of their seats, Dinah’s hands slipped over your shoulders and you were kissed on the side of the face. Thank you, she mouthed, and your position as family support-beam was covered.

Since most of the benefit-goers were at least forty years your senior, you gravitated to your dad. From the penthouse’s upper balcony, you could see his friends circling around the tiny green mats they were using as a makeshift golf course. Usually, Ollie made sure his public persona’s aim was as garbage as his taste in drink was. But tonight, he played as Green Arrow, who never missed. Not once. Especially when it came to Bruce Wayne, who’s golf game was abysmal at best.

But like Oliver, Bruce was a new man tonight. It looked like he was ready to break out the batarangs any minute now. The two men were barely civil about the viciousness of their competition, and if the view of the game from the balcony was interesting, then from below it must’ve been the greatest show of fragile masculinity ever displayed. You had to make fun of them.

The only opening in the circle of men, who all had their hands on their chins as Bruce lined up his next shot, was by the floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the game. Just one man stood there, hands in his pockets. You slid next to him, unbothered, and squinted at the game.

Everyone in the crowd was dead silent. Bruce was lining up his golf ball so it would roll into a mug a couple of feet away, so you helpfully provided, “A little to the left, Mr. Wayne.”

Your words overlapped with someone else’s. Where you had said Mr. Wayne, they had said Father. Then the man next to you was his son, but...

You would have never guessed it would be him.

Reasonably, you knew that Robin was Damian Wayne. Oliver could be a little loose-lipped at times, and by his judgment you’d been a teenager just a year ago - what could a twenty year old do to Batman’s secret identity? Not much.

Until you saw Robin without his mask.

Damian was achingly beautiful. He was your age, but he stood and talked like he was much older. There was an angle to his shoulder that made him seem astute and sexy. His eyes fixed on you when you spoke at the same time, and they were a surprising mossy color that jumped out against his tan skin, like plants flourishing out of rich soil. There was just enough blue in them to make him seem haunting. Any moment, you felt like he was going to corner you and whisper your future throatily in your ear.

Looking into them, those piercing eyes, for longer than a second made you want to blurt, “You’re much prettier without your mask.”

But that would expose his secret to every golf-loving idiot in earshot, so Oliver had been wrong. A twenty-year-old like you could do fatal damage to Batman’s secret identity, but for Damian, the short-tempered, snappish leader of the Teen Titans, you would risk anything.

Damian stared, and you stared. He squinted, wet his lips, then turned back to the game. This was your only acknowledgment that he recognised you. His voice was deeper, smoother, than you remember it. “Queen.”

You shifted in your shoes, almost laughing in shock. “...Wayne.”

The game grew boring and Damian didn’t say anything else, so you said nothing too, sneaking glances at him. The last time you’d spoken to Robin had been in costume, when he’d thanked you for assisting with a mission. He’d really been thanking you for standing up for him. You didn’t team up often with the Titans, but when you did, you found that they were unusually snappy and mean with their leader. Not necessary on purpose, but you could tell that Damian couldn’t take as many bites as he pretended to. Standing up for him had been a simple thing. The good thing to do. Now, with that look in his eyes, it almost felt like he still thought about it.

He must have, because the kiss you shared at the end of that mission had glowed with heat. To be fair, you both may have believed you were going to die (before the team pulled through and saved you), so it could’ve been a heat-of-the-moment thing. But this was Robin - if he didn't want to kiss you, he wouldn't. And yet he did.

You’d kissed. And the energy of that kiss lingered between you now, drawing you closer together, putting tiny smiles on your faces. He was cute. Cuter without that mask on.

You stood in the stupid golf silence, feeling foolish. Flirting with boys was much easier in fishnets. It didn’t help how fine Damian’s profile was. He had soft, feathery lashes that occasionally touched down on beauty marked cheeks. His lips were even fuller from the side, forever drawn in a curious line. And those eyes, when they caught yours and danced away again, were much too nice to hide behind a mask. You couldn’t get that thought out of your mind.

When Bruce finally made his move, you leaned in to whisper something to each other at the same time, accidentally knocking shoulders.

“I - apologies,” Damian flushed.

“Oh, um, my bad,” you rubbed awkwardly at the spot where you’d collided. “...You were going to say something?”

Damian’s eyes flicked to your fathers, then to you, unimpressed. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “They’re awfully hypocritical, don’t you think? Father snaps at me everytime I use my skills in public, and yet he’s putting with perfect aim like it’s not the very same.”

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes and scooted closer, ducking your voice into the bubble between your bodies. “My dad’s the same way. Don’t aim in the house, he says, unless it’s him trying to beat Bruce Wayne.”

Your company’s shoulders turned sideways, leaning into you. His breath ghosted the hair on your neck, standing it on end, and again that silky voice sent tingles down your spine. Damian must change his voice as Robin, because he never spoke like this then. So huskily, so low.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

You watched him. He watched you. You ran your tongue over your teeth, and Damian subtly adjusted his slacks from his pockets.

At the same time, you asked each other, “Would you like to get a drink?”

Your hiding place was a loveseat in the lounge, between more businessmen and their ditzy heirs. The bartender was your family’s, so he smiled and turned down your request for a drink, courtesy of your dad’s strictness. Luckily, he didn’t recognise Damian. You watched him order it at the bar, his rings catching the light, the muscle in his arms peeking out from under his blazer.

“I think he suspected I wasn’t of age, so he only gave me one.” He took the place next to you, propping his ankle on one knee and lounging out like a panther. Damian offered the cocktail to you, once he’d decided the coast was clear. It was a cute gesture. “Is that acceptable?”

You fished a five dollar bill out of your purse. “Only if you take this for paying. Don’t think I didn’t see you try and sneakily get that past me.”

Damian scrutinized the bill, then you, somehow managing to be a smartass without opening his mouth. Instead of thinking about how nice it would feel to kiss the slight crease between his brows, you traded hands with him so the bill was in his and the drink was in yours. The gentle brush of you palm to his knuckles put way too many butterflies in your belly.

You talked about everything and anything. About home, family life, your cities. The best of it was when Damian dipped his head so only you could hear him, keeping your secrets close and your bodies closer. This was the only way he talked about Robin, so you circled back to any vigilante subject you could think of just so Damian would keep purring into your ear like that. Better yet, he was smart. Talking to him was engaging, and within minutes he'd entranced you, so you sat there talking for more than an hour. Around you, the party rotated and went on.

At one point, you took a drink of the cocktail and passed it to him to share. Damian placed his lips right where yours had been, licking up the cocktail salt and gulping it down slow, adam’s apple bobbing, like it wasn’t the taste of the vodka he was savoring.

Eventually, your bliss was broken. Damian was called over to his father, again, to discuss business, and he left you with your remaining cocktail and the memory of that mission. You couldn’t find a reason to move from your seat. When you’d realized that you and Robin had been led into a trap on that mission, it’d been too late, and your efforts to escape became more and more futile. All you could do was pray the Titans got to you on time. Robin had offered you his glove as the walls closed in, and you’d watched up-close as he assumed you were both about to die. The fear in his eyes was strange - like it was familiar to him. At the same time, you cupped his neck and he held your upper back, and you’d kissed fervently, sweetly.

Damian had put his forehead to yours, and promised even as the trap shrunk around you, “You were excellent. More excellent than they ever said.”

In the big picture, it was a strange last remark to make, and afterwards you’d been too happy about surviving to think about it. But in the moment, you understood. You were understood. Somehow, Damian had reached into your soul and gouged out the words you’d been dying to hear, from your parents, from anyone, and uttered them to you with burning conviction. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe he meant it. Damian found you excellent. Someone, somewhere, didn’t think you were a failure.

Odd, how you’d never seen the face of the man you thought you’d die with (until now), and yet he saw you so easily. You watched him follow his father into the party crowd now, wondering. The Titans had saved you before you could ask what he’d meant. More importantly, before you could tell him the same. He was excellent.

Once you’d finished off your drink, you left it at the bar and grinned evilly at your family bartender. He rolled his eyes and slyly delivered you another, which, on your superhero schedule, would not have you drunk yet. Another heir to some big company was seated at your right, ignored by his father enough to look for some small talk with you.

He was one of the cute, nerdy types that were usually in awe of you. Girls, available girls, were typically rare at these kinds of parties, so he took you not having a boyfriend as permission to flirt with you. Unfortunately for him, your seat gave a perfect angle on Damian across the party floor. He was impressing the wives of Wayne business partners, who flocked around him like they’d flocked around you, pinching his cheeks. You could almost read their lips enough to guess what they were saying. What a handsome young man you are! Oh, Bruce must be so proud.

“...and then my father flipped over his kayak! Would you believe it? Two thousand dollars, thrown right in our family’s lake.” Your company snickered, howling at his own story.

You circled the rim of your glass, watching how Damian tried to teach some of the women phrases in Arabic. Unknown to them, they were some pretty funny swear words. It threw you into a bout of giggles, and the man next to you kept talking, spurred on by the noise.

The flock of hens around Damian receded, and his shoulders slouched in relief. That was cute, too. It wasn’t often that people understood how draining these parties were, but for people like you and Damian, it was a racetrack of endless, boring circles. Everything was a formality. Few things were genuine. Damian turned, and you caught his eye to let him know you were going to meet him. He nodded toward a side hall, his mouth a curious line again. If you looked at it long enough, it felt like a smile when he mouthed, escape?

Your company was still talking. He stopped when you grabbed his tie and planted a pity-kiss on his cheek, waving to him as you bounced away. “Sorry, kid. Not my type.”

You planned to bring Damian to the secluded balcony on the second floor to unwind, but instead, you were taken by the wrist and maneuvered into an empty powder room. It was colder than the steaming party air and smelled like champagne, with couches to sit on and mirrors to powder at. For a bathroom, the lights were warm and low. The noise of the party went quiet the instant the door was shut, like you and Damian had entered your own little world. No more circles. No more back and forth.

“Here,” Damian said, noting the mirrors. He tilted his head as he asked, like he was nervous, “Is this acceptable?”

“It is the ladies powder room, but I’ll give you a pass, since you’re cute.” You joked. Damian didn’t make a move to relax on one of the couches yet, hanging in front of you like there was more he wanted to say. There was more you wanted to say, too, but no good words came to mind.

But the silence wasn’t awkward. Again, Damian stared, and you stared. The glass he brought with him was set down. He put one fist on the counter beside the door, and like honey had been poured on your nerves, you realized how easy it would be for him to push you up against it. Kiss you senseless. Heat drooled off of him this close, and you wondered if he’d still lean in to whisper to you even if you were alone.

The lack of words drew to a point where something had to be said, anything, but his eyes felt so good on your skin and it was interesting to see him nervous. Something strange told you that Damian liked the silence, too.

You wet your lips with your tongue. Damian cleared his throat, and took a sip from his glass. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Between me and that guy?” You smiled gently, like you were reassuring him, and laughed to yourself. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen it, Damian. Poor kid really thought I was flirting with him. He’d totally convinced himself, it was hilarious.”

His profile was tense in the mirror, which you stole glances at to watch how the amber light played on his handsome skin. When Damian swallowed his drink, his throat rolled in the sexiest way, and immediately your mind fed you with visions of suckling, kissing, tonguing his neck.

“Why’d you ask?” Your eyes sparkled. Damian drew a step closer, and you used the opportunity to swipe a drop of alcohol from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You jealous?”

It was the touch or the suggestion that made Damian pause. He didn’t stutter, but lagged over what to say, eyes vast and wanting as they raked over your face. “I don’t get jealous,” he clarified, “but… I do intend to be the only man to kiss you tonight.”

Damian’s hand took your chin. Your belly exploded with instant arousal, hitting you like a bullet of liquid lust. “You’re the only man who’s kissed me like that,” you whispered, taking his tie in hand. “I hope that’s always true.”

His voice had gone throaty. “May I kiss you again?”

Again, he reminded you.The two of you had kissed before, and it had been spectacular, terrifying, and excellent.

“Please,” you said, and Damian rushed to your aid.

Not a moment more was wasted. Curling his tie into your fist, you drew him in, slow and deep and wonderfully. Damian’s cologne hit you before his lips did, and both made your core throb for friction. Two broad hands slammed your hips into the door. His fingertips smoothed up the fabric of your dress, pressing you back and squeezing you in until you could feel his belt buckle against your belly. Damian was a sweet, magnetic kisser, chasing your lips like he was on a crusade to save them. Each time they met, he swam deeper. The point of his nose bumped against your cheek. You hummed your laugh against his lips, and Damian groaned as he pulled away, readjusting, twisting, testing the limits of the kiss. And you followed him at every step or more, revelling in his taste.

You didn’t want him to think you wanted the kiss to end, so you drew the hands braced under his blazer around his neck. Soon, that didn’t feel close enough, so you cupped each side of his face and pecked Damian until you were breathless. He brought you in until your arms were flat to his chest, the kiss almost vertical in its intensity.

He groaned when you parted, gasping and blinking just inches from your face. Your mouths were still connected by a thick string of drool, which hung until it split and clung to Damian’s chin and fell, marking a wet strip down into his collar. You panted, watching it go.

Damian left your waist to hold your wrists, keeping your hands around his face. He settled warmly into your touch, basking in it, and the pure enjoyment on his face made you smile. You wondered if anyone else had cared for him like this. If Damian had ever felt someone hold his face and treasure it. The thought gave you a strange urge, so you followed it.

You brought Damian’s brow level with your mouth and sweetly kissed his forehead. Then his nose bridge, then his temples. His face was so quickly warm that you giggled. In the most unsubtle way possible, Damian drew back his hips so you couldn’t feel the heat there, and closed his eyes, begging you to continue.

“I want you,” you whispered against his jaw.

Damian shivered. “You have me.”

You shifted one hand to his shoulder, giving yourself more room to nuzzle and kiss his neck. The line of drool was still there, so you cupped his skin and tilted his jaw up, and in one stroke, licked all the way to his earlobe. Damian’s moan poured from his mouth like a growing flood. You even felt his thighs press together between you, and pleasure tingled in your throat when he choked at the glide of your tongue.

He released your wrists, reached beside you, and locked the door with an audible click.

Then, Damian devoured you. Both hands hooked around your back, arching your chest into his, and finally, bringing his bulge between your hips. You clung to him for dear life, helpless as his teeth pressed into your neck like a vampire. Damian fed like one, too, suckling the skin there like he was starved. Your panties were so wet that you were desperate to get out of them, grinding your core against his.

Damian retreated, gasping. He licked the spit off of his lips and glared into your eyes. Bluntly, he said, “I want to eat you out.”

Once more, you kissed him, delirious with excitement. Your lungs burned for air, but your core burned harder for him. “Take off that suit and you can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes gleamed. “I plan to.”

Quickly, you shoved your hands into his sleeves and pushed them off his shoulders, giving you a crisp glimpse at his carved shoulders. Damian's fingers blurred from button to button, but he saved the last for you on purpose. You worked in tandem and with little thought. If he could, Damian would steal a kiss, and you would bite his lip and chase him into more. When that last button was popped, his white button-down parted for a gorgeous plane of hard-earned muscle. His abs, ribs and pecs were pockmarked with scars, shrapnel marks and in some places, bullet holes. You stopped.

At your staring, Damian pressed his lips together.

“It's.. not appealing, I know,” he monotoned.

“No,” you disagreed, palming his stomach, “it’s impressive. All these do is show how strong you are, how long you've survived. You're so… built...” you didn't hide your thorough examination of him, “...I mean, we have to be to do what we do, but still… It suits you. It's sexy.”

You worried you'd ruined the moment with your babbling, but he glimmered under your praise. Damian brightened in the way only Damian could, smirking devilishly and towering over you like a supervillain.

“Sexy?” He pressed his naked chest into yours, whispering hotly in your ear. You could feel his silk tie pinned between you. “Does that mean I'm your type?”

You rolled your eyes. “Eavesdropper.”

“Temptress,” Damian replied, just as easily.

To claim your title, you found Damian's belt and pulled on it until the clasp gave. It made a satisfying whipping noise as you ripped it off of him, shouldered into his space to grab his waist in one hand, and cupped his throbbing boxers in the other. Damian's sigh came hoarsely and wanton from his mouth.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, grinning with delight.

Instead of wasting time on a response, Damian fell to his knees, a faithful worshipper. He did the gentlemanly thing and helped you kick off your heels. The tile was icy on your bare feet, but it only mattered until Damian ran his hands up your thighs. Sliding his fingers underneath the fabric, he bunched it up your middle, peering up at you smugly through his lashes. You could feel the debauchery of it - Damian, on his knees, tie hanging still from his neck, pinning you to the door. You, your legs spread and wanting.

Damian sucked in a breath. Your panties had an obvious wet patch, put there by him. He thumbed it carefully, watching your brows tense and your eyes close, basking in your initial whine. All of it enchanted him. You were soaking because of him, trembling because of him, marked because of him. There was not one place he would rather be than here.

Damian collected your sweetness and sampled the taste on his thumb, trapping it behind his smug smile. He ran his tongue over his teeth, spreading the flavor around his mouth, savoring it. As Damian rolled your underwear down your legs, his cock twitched in his open fly. You were beautiful. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Put your leg over my shoulder,” Damian ordered, smirking, “I want to taste you.”

Warmth exploded in your cheeks. “G-go ahead.”

Gradually, you situated your leg across his back, pussy tensing at the touch of the cooler air. This didn't matter for long. Damian's warm lips nuzzled and kissed the thigh closest to him, painting messy reflective circles on your skin with his kiss. Even that made your legs tense wildly, so Damian shoving his wet, blazing tongue into the folds of you cunt pumped moan after moan from your mouth.

“Damian!” You yelped.

Oh, he definitely liked that. Damian pinched your ass and used his mouth so passionately that his head shook back and forth. He darted right for your clit, sucking it until his cheeks were hollow and humming smugly between your legs with every squeal. Parting your folds with one hand, Damian kissed your core just as dirtily as he'd kissed you. The dangerous glint in his eye never faded. He plunges his tongue inside you in earnest, slurping obscenely, purposefully. There's no need for Damian to shoot you cute looks or put on a show - his skill was the performance, because that skill was unbeatable. Your pussy was already tender, fucked nerveless by Damian's filthy mouth. He vibrated your cunt with a deep groan before he drew away, face dripping with slick like a pornstar’s.

“You're suitably wet,” he said, matter-of-factly, “would you like me to use my fingers?”

All the strength you had went into a weak, pleading nod.

Damian was polite enough to grant you your bearings first, letting you grip his hair and squeeze the counter before he resumes. You give him the sweetest, most precious whine when Damian licks you open again. He wisely starts with one finger and builds from there, earning you with pumps and curls of his digits. Damian's talents quickly become a currency, one that you exchange with mewls and pants of praise.

“So good,” you whine, “oh, fuck - fuck, just like that…”

Damian smirks between your legs, jamming his fingers faster into your sore pussy. Lust sizzles low in your gut, ramped up again and again by his thrusting. It’s so powerful that you roll and buck off the door, your hips in his face. You want him - want him more than you want anything.

“You're ravaging,” Damian hums between licks. His eyes are closed, but that only gives the way he touches you more meaning.

It’s so surprising from his mouth that your hold on his hair slips, setting Damian free. He pants, catching his breath, and it’s easily the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The effort has slouched him from his knees to his calves, further spreading his legs and opening up the fly of his pants. A solid bulge has formed and spilled out there, straining to escape his briefs like an arm in a sling that’s too small, way too small, for someone of his size. Three of Damian’s fingers are still twisting inside of you.

Slowly, Damian tipped back his head and hung down, arranging himself beneath your cunt. “So beautiful.” His free hand splayed where your leg met your hip. “May I touch you?”

“I-I get it’s the gentleman thing to do, to - to keep asking, but fuck, Damian,” you cursed, “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Damian’s intense jade eyes were so dilated that you could barely make out the color. He dragged his cheek against your thigh, fingers still circling inside you, and grinned like a shark. It was probably a bad idea to give the heir to the Demon’s Head that much power over you.

His other hand squeezed your skin, slow to passionate, from your belly to your breasts beneath your dress. It’s clear by the way Damian looks at you that he loves what he sees. The texture of his veiny, calloused hands feels good on your waist and ass, dragging you closer to him. He chuckles when your back arches, when your nails press into his hands, his back muscles, throwing himself into his task. Damian’s nose prods your folds as he licks you clean, tongue dipping and sliding against your sore clit. It’s like he’s done this for you before, in this exact way. Though he utilizes his tongue the most, his lips too are brutal, matched perfectly to fit your pussy lips.

But that tongue - how Damian’s jaw isn’t tired, you don’t know. He parts your folds and latches onto your clit, flicking his tongue at superspeed until drool and cum bubbles from your sensitive core. Your back winds tighter at every vibrating lick, paralyzing the muscles in your legs with glorious pleasure. It’s so exquisite you start to melt to the floor like warm clay, only to be bolstered back up by Damian, both hands viciously squeezing your ass. He keeps going not for you, but himself, sucking down every last drop of your juices.

Shattered, you twist hopelessly into his mouth, chasing the strained feeling like it’s the last you’ll ever glimpse. “Fuck, fuck - D-Damian, ah…”

“Did it feel good when I made you cum?” He teases, “It certainly tastes good. All those filthy little noises you make for me…” Damian shakes his head at himself, like it’s too fantastic to indulge again. He leaves your clit with a satisfied kiss. “Beautiful.”

Once more, the words are surprising to hear from him. You always considered Damian the prude type, but here he is, on his knees for you, mouth and chin glittering with your juices while he teases you in low, sexy tones. At your surprised look, Damian has the gall to blush.

With his ring finger in his mouth, he ponders, “If a man has never said that to you before...” pop, “consider me surprised.”

“Never while finger-fucking me, at least,” you admited, legs still trembelling. “It was sweet. You… you meant that?”

It was hard to imagine Damian Wayne finding anything beautiful. Even you, who was pretty enamored with him, figured he would judge by quality or skill, not beauty. The words tasted new on his tongue.

Slowly, Damian stood and stretched, his shoulders tight after staying in the strange position for so long. Lifting his arms coincidentally let his waistband sit lower on his hips, flashing his green boxers your way while showing off the huge, carved muscles of his arms. Truly, Damian’s subtlety was unmatched. You didn’t mind his miniature bragging fest - not when he had so much to brag about. Eating you out had put an excited shimmer in his skin, so the gold-toned lights of the room reflected sexily off his sweat, already accenting his kissable tan.

“I did,” he told you, moving on to his sucking middle finger. His other hand played on your thigh, stroking it. “I’ve always been… drawn to you. Every mission we’ve had together. I have a profound feeling that we are very similar.”

You laughed. Not at what he said, but the timing of it. “Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?”

Damian made a face like his heart was doing jumping jacks. “A few hours ago? No. But now…” he barricaded you against the door, first with his hands and then his hips, closed in so tightly that you had to look past your nose to meet his eyes. “Your crush is adorably obvious. I’m annoyed that I didn’t see it before.”

Your rounded your hands against Damian’s shoulders, then his tie. It twisted nicely around your fingers, silky and cold in comparison to your flushed skin. You were tempted to fix your dress, but nothing, not even the world ending, could make you leave this room.

“My crush is obvious? Damian, all you’ve done for the last two hours is sneak me drinks and imply how much easier it is to be around me.” You grinned, “What’d you say earlier? There you are, Queen. Finally, someone intelligent enough to speak to me.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s true. Your knowledge of bioluminescent ocean life is fascinating.”

“I can’t believe you said that after giving me head for ten minutes.”

“It’s actually been closer to twelve,” Damian smirked.

Playfully, you pinched Damian’s cheek, then pulled him by the tie into a starved, energetic kiss. He must’ve been praying for your permission to continue, because the plan he’d been forming is quickly put into action. You’re hugged, arms scooped under your back as you kiss him. Damian surrenders his mouth to a bit of revenge tonguing while undoing your dress. No amount of kissing will pull him from his task, but your hand is a special case - it smooths down the front of his boxers and Damian melts.

“Y/N,” he groans.

Damian petulantly resists the temptation to close his eyes, but your touch is soft and sweet, demanding him to yield. Your lips suckle on his neck and Damian’s knees buckle. If getting his mouth between your legs didn’t turn him on, then this will finish him for sure.

“I missed you. Kissing you.” You purr into his throat. “One could never be enough for me.”

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? Damian asked himself. The only possible answer thrilled him, and he found himself pouring even more passion into the kiss, into you, wanting to share that rush of affection. You respond to his every touch with vigor. Damian’s heart stalls each time your thumb strokes his face, each time the other strokes him through his slacks.

“Me either,” he rasped, and helped you out of your dress. His tone was shy, but his words held too much depth to be meaningless. I want a wealth of them. I always want to kiss you, was what he wanted to say, but Damian was too embarrassed to raise the words. This moment was too special to ruin with his hopeless romanticism. He kissed you again and again, and to his amazement, you kissed him right back.

“Fuck me,” you begged him between breaths. “Right here. I don’t care if we’re caught.”

I don’t care if we’re seen together. I want to be seen with you, I’m not ashamed of you.

Damian cupped your face and almost knocked you both over with the strength of his kiss. Nose-to-nose, eyes closed, he commanded, “Bend over the fucking counter.”

In a blink, Damian turned and there you were, open and waiting for him. The sink was hip-level, so the bend was nothing but perfect - Damian could fuck you from behind and watch your lust-blown reflection without issue. Your perfect pussy drooled leftover cum down your legs, making your sex shine in the light.

In the mirror, you watched Damian’s eyes darken in delight. His pupils followed the line of your ass to your back, appreciating it like an artist would, like he intended to paint you later and needed to memorize the greatest shapes of your figure. The marble was icy against your hard nipples, which Damian had exposed when he’d impatiently shoved down your bra. Now, he cupped one of your breasts as he bent over you, kissing and suckling his way down your back.

“Perfect,” Damian hissed.

Shyly pressing your butt back against him, you buried your face in your arms and bit your lip, waiting for him to open you up. Damian’s shadow came to hover over you, and in the mirror his eyes were vicious, pools of circling sharks. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Take your time.”

Though you weren’t being sarcastic, Damian took it that way and pinched one cheek of your ass. “With you? I will.” Then, with the same smoothness, Damian asked, “Condom?”

“Pill,” you replied, and Damian nodded his approval.

His pants rustled as they fell down his legs. Where you couldn’t see, Damian committed the sight to memory - his cock in hand, your pussy spread open, all for him. You squeaked when his hot tip touched your cooling clit, and squeaked again when it glided down your pussy and tested your opening. He knew he’d found the way when you winced.

In an unsurprising moment of compassion (for those who truly knew him), Damian kissed the top of your head and offered you his hand. “Would you like to hold it while I…?”

You took his hand and squeezed it to your chest, squeezing him closer in the process, too. “Thank you. Go slow, for this part…”

Damian complied. His sweat-sticky chest hovered warmly over your back. Even if Damian was big, you were wetter than you’d ever been in your entire life - any pain would quickly slide into pleasure. He braced himself with a deep inhale, and a hot, sharp sensation told you that he’d entered you. Where you choked in a needy gasp, Damian poured out his version of a whimper. You both held it. Then, breath by breath, you were struck with the realization that you’d been dying to feel this for weeks, for months, and only now was that heat being satisfied. Damian’s tongue and fingers had come close, but this is what would cure that aching emptiness - his big, girthy cock.

The deathgrip you had on Damian’s hand loosened. “You look perfect,” he murmured into your hair, instantly making your core flutter. “Oh,” he chuckled filthily, “you like that? Funny, how badly that idiot at the bar wanted to be in my place right now…but it’s me who gets to pound into—”

“Damian,” you warned.

He smiled smugly against your neck. “Nothing.”

Dutifully, Damian withdrew his hips, taking all of the heat with him. When he rolled back in, a hot, tingling sensation roared over all of your senses, and you let the moan at the top of that tsunami loose. It was clear that he couldn’t fuck you like he wanted to with one hand fished down at your side, so he glued both to the base of your back and started to thrust in earnest.

“So full...” You mewled, and Damian became a human pile-driver.

Your head seemed to roll off your shoulders with every crazed, rhythmic slam, so you grabbed the faucet and held on for dear life. Every slap was so loud, so powerful, that you prayed this one random bathroom in the penthouse was soundproofed. Anyone walking past would know you were getting railed out of your mind. You tried to compensate by moaning and squeaking quietly, but with force came volume. It didn’t matter how silent you were, Damian’s hips, your ass, the squelch of him inside you - each noise filled the bathroom, echoing off the tile.

The only way you could think to describe him was filling. First, there was the hot, cinching tension of his hands fused to your waist. Then there was his cock, which begged to be squeezed more and more with every pass. You responded to each throb with a mighty clench, which bent Damian over you like an animal, gasping for breath. His balls were painted with your slick. The closer you came to orgasm together, the closer Damian came to you. His hands migrated to higher on your sides, then up by your shoulders, then around you, where Damian kissed your back and rubbed your belly while he made love to you. He talked more than he moaned. Your ear was filled with sweet nothings, with vicious promises of what he would do with a whole night alone with you.

Damian’s reflection was wild with lust. He met your eyes as he fucked you, whispering how beautiful you are, how good you take his dick. His deep green eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out the brown in them anymore. The long muscles on his arms drew taut with each thrust, making his biceps bulge and pin your hips to the sink. Soon enough, a bruise would form from the pressure. One of many treasures from tonight - you would be thinking about Damian in his crisp suit for months to come, and the mess he’d become with you now even longer. Your pleasure built and built and built, like a nail struck further into the ground with a hammer. A very, very big hammer.

“M’ cumming,” Damian husked, slowing his plowing to a sloppy glide. Even his endurance was spent, and you were glad he’d spent it all on you. “Where d’ you…?”

You braced your hands on the counter, then on one of Damian’s. Together, you smoothed his digits down your stomach and between your soft, abused folds. “Inside me, please, please please—” you begged him, “fuck, a-as deep as you can go.”

As a test of your flexibility, Damian turned in and kissed you. Just as he parted your lips with his tongue, he parted your folds with his fingertips, overriding your clit as his cock throbbed inside you to the hilt. He took the invitation as a command. Damian pressed in until you could feel his abs mold to your ass, then stuttered his hips in quick, agonized dips to get himself there. With his fingers and his cock putting stars in your eyes, you finished first.

The white marble counter fizzed in your vision, until all you could see was that powerful, endless white, humming in your mind’s eye. Still, Damian wasn’t finished yet. You bumped your temple against his chin and hummed, “Cum for me, baby… fuck, a-ah!”

Your pussy’s throb raced and raced until it spilled over, pulling Damian right under the current. One clench and he was done for, so the velvety, periodic squeeze of your cunt emptied his store. You hung there, spasming in unison, until that overwhelming heat spurted in a ring around Damian’s cock and flooded out of you. Only then did his fingers stop on your clit, and you settled warmly in each other's arms and tried to remember your names and who you were.

Damian pulled out, then snuggled back in. He would’ve been nervous any other time, but he’d just put his dick inside you, so a little instinctive cuddling could be forgiven. On shaky legs, you turned around and sunk into him. You could tell by how he was eyeing the sink that he was desperate to get clean again, so with one kiss (on the cheek), you set Damian loose.

In companionable silence, Damian cleaned up and you collected the clothes abandoned on the floor. Staring at the corner where you’d just had the best sex of your life put an embarassingly pleasant warmth in your chest. Interesting, how one terrifying moment could become something as special as this. Fascinating, how you’d felt like you’d known him all your life.

“You know… I think you’re excellent, too.” You told him, finishing off the knot for his tie.

Damian dipped his head to hide his smile, but something so bright was impossible to hide.

#damian wayne smut #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader smut #damian wayne x you #robin smut #robin #dc smut #dc comics #dc #user uncouth

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kingkatsuki · 3 years

Text

Adoration | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

♡тωσ ιη тнє ριηк, σηє ιη тнє кιηк: вαкυgσυ + ριηк ¢υм♡

Love is in the air~ Happy Valentine’s Day guys! Here is my contribution to The Sewer’s Valentine’s collab!

Please go and check out all the other amazing creators here!

Warnings: 18+, princess plug, pink cum, ass play, rimming, pegging, creampie, cum swapping, bratty bottom Bakugou.

Word Count: 6.7k

Valentine's Day was never really one of your favourite holidays. Sure, you loved the premise of dedicating a special day to show the person you love how much you’re thankful for them and enjoying the opportunity to exchange gifts and cards. Hopeful that you’d receive a massive bouquet of roses that you could use to make your friends jealous, but of course these feelings meant nothing when you were single. Valentines Day when you were single became an instant reminder of just how alone you were, a day that you would treat like any other just so you could avoid that feeling.

That was at least, until you met your boyfriend. Now you found yourself wanting to experience these new things alongside him, especially when Valentine's Day would no longer be Single Awareness Day. Fully immersing yourself into the celebrations, as each year you discussed an elaborate plan with him to celebrate the now special day, and each year he would find a way to let you down. Each year you had the same argument, chastising him for not booking Valentines Day off when every couple you knew would be celebrating today, with Bakugou completely adamant that this year would not be “the year” he would start celebrating this day.

Bakugou adored you with his entire being, his love for you running deeper than that of anything else, even maybe being the Number One Pro-Hero, but this? This was one thing he wouldn’t do for you.

“Baby, please.” You whined, wrapping your thighs around his hips in a last feeble attempt to get him to stay in bed with you. Your arms clinging to his broad shoulders as he lifted himself up from the bed with your body still clinging to him. A blunt display of his sheer strength as he stood, his arms lingering at his sides as you clung to his body.

“I’ve gotta get ready for work, woman.” His large palm came down against your ass in a harsh smack, the action causing you to keen into his neck. Your lips pressing kisses against his pulse point as he repeated the action again and again in quick succession. The slaps sounding around your room as each one pulled a cry from your lips.

“‘Suki.” Your lips curled into a pout, pulling your head away from his neck to stare into his vermilion eyes, “You’re boring.”

“I’m not fuckin’ boring, I have to work.” Bakugou grumbled at your tame insult, his brows furrowed as he couldn’t resist leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your pouty lips.

His hands moved to hold your ass, grabbing the round mounds in his palms as he squeezed playfully. A low moan ripped from your lips as you tried to grind your needy cunt against him, feeling your slick dragging against his abdomen.

“You are boring, that’s why you didn’t book the day off.” You continued subtly grinding yourself down on his chest, angling your hips to try and get your clit to drag along the taut muscle.

“Why would I waste a days leave for a shitty fuckin’ holiday?” Bakugou’s finger dug into your hips, pressing you down harder against his body as he watched the way your eyes flutter and your breath hitch as he stroked against your sweet spot.

“It’s not shitty.” You whined, “And you coulda spent the day in bed with me but you’d rather go out and play hero.”

“I don’t play the hero, babe. I am the hero.” You rolled your eyes at the cocky smirk that graced his features as you felt him physically puff out his chest beneath you, “And you’re actin’ like I can’t make you cum in under a minute.” His long fingers already sliding underneath the curve of your ass to stroke against your silky folds.

“But we coulda had the entire day together, and I bought presents.” You pressed, noticing the way his eyes flashed with intrigue.

“Presents?” You piqued his interest, his fingers stilling against your folds as you groaned indignantly.

“You can’t just say fuckin’ presents and not give up the goods, Princess.” Bakugou lifted himself up from the bed with ease, even as you were trying to press your bodyweight down against him it was no match, “C’mon, I haven’t got all day.”

“Fine, jerk.” You slapped him on the pectoral as he pretended to be hurt, moving his large palm up to press against the spot you’d hit, “Not that you deserve it anyway, Valentine’s hater.”

“Why do we need a shitty fuckin’ holiday to prove we love each other?” Bakugou watched as you rustled through your wardrobe, his eyes focused on the curve of your ass as you bent over to retrieve the gift.

“We don’t,” You quipped, “But it doesn’t mean we can’t have fun anyway.”

You lifted out the sickeningly pink box as you brought it over to your boyfriend, holding it towards home with a wide smile on your face, “Open it.”

Bakugou was quick to snatch the present from your hands, as much as he tried to hide his excitement, Bakugou Katsuki loved presents. You were convinced that he enjoyed the destruction of ripping the packages open more than the actual gifts inside, having watched him destroy multiple gift bags and intricate wrapping designs in the past. It was almost like watching those youtube videos of children who received expensive toys for Christmas and ended up playing with the cardboard box it came in.

“Er- nice idea, babe.” His fingers reached into the box to pull out your gift to him, “And I ain’t complainin’, but isn’t this for you?”

In the box was the gift that you’d decided to buy for your hot-headed boyfriend, something that you’d purchased weeks in advance. You already knew the chances of Bakugou booking the special holiday off work were slim to none, which is what prompted you to buy the gift in the first place, knowing that even if he did decide to stay home you’d still be able to enjoy it. Pulling out the item you smiled as his face turned to one of confusion, pulling out the butt plug that you’d neatly wrapped.

“It’s for you,” You prompted, waiting to try and gauge his reaction, “I thought you could try it out.”

“On you-” Bakugou gave you a cocky smirk, holding up the shiny silvery object between his index and middle finger, feeling the weight of it in his hand as his thumb stroked over the pretty pink jewel that sat at the tip.

“Well, I thought we could try it in you-”

“The fuck you are-” He grumbled, raising a brow towards you.

“It’s your valentines gift, you have to wear it.” You cut off his objections with a pout as he dumped the toy onto your bed, standing up as he towered over you.

“No.” He moved towards the bathroom but you were quick to stand in his path, doing your best to give him a cute look you assumed he would be unable to resist.

“Don’t just say no-“ You pouted your lips, pressing your hands against his hips to hold him against you.

“Okay; Fuck no.” He punctuated each word, eyes widened as he tilted his head to the side.

“Katsuki,” You whined, “I never ask you to do anything.”

“You ask me to do shit all the time,” He rolled his eyes.

“Okay, but just this once-”

“Piss off.” He grumbled, making his way towards the bathroom even though you were still clinging to him, “I ain’t fuckin’ wearing that shit.”

“But I bought it for you.” You tried to reason, your arms circling around his middle as you pressed your cheek to his muscular back.

“Why the fuck is it pink?” This was it, the question caused your lips to curve into a wide smile against his back as you acknowledged the first signs of Bakugou’s resolve wavering.

“Cause it’s valentines,” You cooed, “And you look so pretty in pink, ‘Suki. Please.”

You moved underneath his large arm as you smiled up at him innocently, squeezing around his middle tightly as you watched him chew his bottom lip, obviously weighing up the situation. Already knowing what his answer would be, his pure adoration for you evident in every inch of his being as he willed himself to please you.

“Fine.” You looked far too happy far too soon as you let out a squeal of victory, already going back towards your shared bedroom to retrieve the forgotten toy, “Actin’ like I won’t just take it out when I get to my office.” He called from the bathroom, hearing the sound of the shower already turning on.

“No you won’t.” You called back, picking up the toy as you grabbed a small bottle of lube from your bedside table.

“Hah? Why.” His voice was more muffled now as you assumed he had stepped under the warm jets of water, closing the glass door behind him.

“Because I’ll know.” You teased, already tugging off his oversized shirt from your frame as you seized the opportunity to join him in the shower.

“How t’fuck you gonna know?”

“Oh, I’ll know.” You leaned up to press a kiss against his lips.

The little detail you forgot to leave out was this wasn’t just a pretty pink princess plug you’d bought to make your boyfriend look cute on Valentine’s Day. It was app controlled. Checking your phone for the time as you lounged back on your couch at home, a mug of tea in your palm as you noticed that it would be around lunchtime now. The perfect time to start your boyfriend’s Valentine’s Day surprise.

Slowly sliding your finger against the screen to increase the vibrations on the plug, keeping it at a low hum as you waited, eagerly watching your phone for the text you knew would be coming at any second.

Bakugou: What the fuck?

Bingo. You smiled against the rim of your mug as you typed back a response, already seeing your boyfriend was typing another message.

You: What's wrong, babe?

The three dots disappeared as another message came through, enough to confirm to you that he had indeed kept the plug inside his ass like he said he would.

Bakugou: Turn it off now.

You: But Katsuki, I bet you look so pretty right now. Send me a pic ;)

You knew there was no way your boyfriend would send you a picture now, but you thought you would try. Placing your mug of tea onto the coffee table as you opened the camera app on your phone, lifting up the oversized shirt you were wearing that you’d stolen from your boyfriend's closet as you pointed the lens towards your chest, snapping a photograph before sending it across to him. Already fully aware that this would do nothing but serve to irk him even more, expecting an even more irate text from the hot headed blond as you noted he was already in the midst of another reply.

Bakugou: No.

You: You’re no fun :(

You typed back, moving back to the app on your phone to increase the vibrations. Watching the way the notification that he was typing a response disappeared, trying to imagine how powerful the vibrations were against him. Wondering if anyone at work had noticed or could even hear the toy inside him.

Instead of a text your phone flashed with an incoming phone call, your fingers swiping to answer it as you held the phone to your ear.

“Hey, Kat-”

“You little fuckin’ bitch.” He cut you off, “Turn this shit off, now-oh shit,”

“But why would I do that when it sounds like you’re enjoying it?” Hearing him curse on the other side of the line as he shifted in his chair.

“I’m taking it out, now.” He snarled on the phone, his voice stuttering from the vibrations flowing through him.

“You take it out, but what are you going to do with the raging hard on I know you have right now, Suki.” You cooed, licking your lips at the thought.

“Actin’ like I can’t fuckin’ fix that myself.” He growled.

“Better get used to that then, cause that’s all you’ll be doing for the next month.” You honestly weren’t sure whether this would be more of a punishment for him or for you but you weren’t about to let him win, not in this situation. Bakugou paused on the other side of the line for a moment, obviously trying to weigh up his options before placing his cards on the table.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wanna take that chance?” You pressed.

“Fuck,” He hissed, I’m coming home now. Just fuckin’ turn that shit off.”

You smiled in glee as you read the final text, knowing that your plan had worked and your boyfriend was now on his way home to you, a much earlier finish to his shift than scheduled, taking longer than it should have taken you to turn off the vibrating toy.

“You filthy little minx,” Bakugou growled from the front door, his voice booming into the lounge where you sat waiting for him.

“Katsuki, you’re home early.” Your fingers quickly moved to the app, sliding the bar to increase the vibrations in the butt plug as you watched your boyfriend stumble, his hands reaching out to grasp the doorframe, “You look tired.”

“Fuckin’- shit- fuckin’ turn it off.” He stammered uncharacteristically, his face flushed pink as he held onto the frame to keep himself upright, “Now.”

“Aw, baby.” You cooed, standing up from the couch to walk over to him, watching the way his jaw clenched as subtle vibrations coarse through his body, “You can’t tell me you’re not enjoying it. Look at you-”

Your hand reached out to palm the evident tent in his trousers, his large palm quick to capture your wrist as he growled low in his throat, vermilion eyes staring at you dangerously.

“If you don’t turn it off now I’ll-” He was cut off as another loud groan left his lips, half-lidded eyes fluttering as his chest heaved.

“You’ll what, Katsuki?” You smiled, leaning up to press your lips against his jaw, feeling his light stubble tickle your lips as you stood on the tips of your toes, “

You raised your hand to palm his cock, barely able to wrap your fingers around his hardness before his hips lurched forward at the contact, half-lidded vermillion eyes drooping as a sultry moan left his lips. Your eyes staring up at him in a mix of surprise and glee as you watched him come undone in front of you.

“Did you just-” You couldn’t resist squeezing your hand to feel his softening cock, “Cum in your pants, Suki?”

“That was the second time-” He rasped, resting his forehead against his forearm on the doorframe as he tried to steady his breathing, “Shit’s too fuckin’ much-”

“Twice?” You couldn’t hide the elation on your features as you thought, “So messy, Katsuki.”

“Shut the fuck up, this is your fuckin’ fault.” He groaned, the vibrations still flowing through him as he tried to regain his breath, panting softly as a dribble of drool fell from the corner of his lips, unable to resist leaning up to swipe your tongue against it, “Turn this fuckin’ shit off, now.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his tone, all bark and no bite as you moved back towards the couch to grab your cell phone, opening the app to turn off the vibrations that were currently flowing through the toy still buried deep in your boyfriend's ass.

“That better, baby?” You laughed as he shot you a dirty look, moving away from the door frame as he made his way towards your shared bedroom.

“Hey, wait up.” You were quick to chase after him, watching as he quickly tugged his shirt up and over his head, dropping it to the floor haphazardly, “I still have another present for you-”

“Piss off.” He grunted, his fingers unbuckling his belt as your eyes focused on the darkened stain against his grey boxer-briefs, licking your lips at the sight as he tugged them down his thick thighs. His soft cock hanging against his thigh as you noticed the sheen of cum that glistened against his skin, instantly wanting to clean the mess off of him as you felt your cunt clench between your thighs.

“Don’t be like that, babe.” You stepped closer to him, “It felt good, didn’t it?”

You watched as he chewed the inside of his mouth, obviously trying to hold back agreeing with you. The evidence made it clear that he had enjoyed the toy inside him, however he would try to deny it. Your hand already reaching out to trace along his soft cock, feeling the way he twitched against your touch, sucking a breath of air in as he felt you wrap your slender fingers around his girth.

“Don’t you want me to make you feel good, Suki?” You cooed, slowly beginning to pump his cock, feeling it harden under your touch as his breath quickened. His cum working as lubricant that aided you in running your palm along his length, fresh pre beginning to ooze from the tip as you worked him back to life, “Don’t I make you feel good?”

“Shit,” He grunted, his hips humping against your touch as you smirked up at him, already knowing that you’d broken his resolve and pleasure was now at the forefront of his mind.

“Unless you think you wouldn’t be able to take it?” You knew Bakugou like the back of your hand, knowing exactly what to say to him to have him playing right into your hands.

“Hah?”

“I mean, this was already too much for you, wasn't it baby?” You smiled at him innocently, “It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything else today.”

“It wasn’t too fuckin’ much,” He snarled at the suggestion, scrunching his nose in displeasure, “That was nothing.”

You were already well aware that it was far more than ‘nothing’, the sinful moans that had left his lips as the princess plug had been vibrating in his asshole were a clear indication of this. Your hand slipping around his body to press down on the pink jewel of the toy, watching the way his eyes widened in surprise before his lips parted into a silent moan, “So you wanna try what else I have planned?”

“You gonna be a good boy for me, Suki?” You pressed the pad of your thumb against the swollen, reddish head of his cock, “Do whatever I say?”

“Fuck,” Bakugou exhaled, grinding himself into your touch, “Fine.”

Something about a new toy for valentines day, reaching into your closet to pull out the strap-on you bought especially for valentines day.

“That’s what you wanna do?” Bakugou rolled his eyes at the sight as you held up the strap with a smile on your face.

“This one’s different though.” You smiled, dumping the toy on the bed so you could tug your clothes off, letting them drop to the floor, “It’s pink.”

“Yeah,” Bakugou snorted, “I can fuckin’ see that, Princess.”

“Don’t laugh,” You pouted.

“Did you just google ‘small dick’?” Bakugou scoffed, looking at the dildo that was admittedly smaller than his own cock but was in no way ‘small’.

“I’d wait until it’s buried inside that pretty little ass before you say anything, Katsuki.” You smiled, dumping the toy onto the bed so you could tug your clothes off, letting them drop to the floor, “It’s even full of pink cum.”

“Hah?” You opened your bedside drawer to show him the container of fake cum you’d purchased with the strap-on especially. A special Valentines Day version that was tinted a baby pink colour in celebration of the holiday, “That’s the dumbest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You won’t be saying that when I make you cum.” You smiled, already knowing exactly how easy it was to turn your dominant boyfriend into a compliant mess during sex.

“Tch, if you even fuckin’ can, Princess.” He grinned at you cockily, crossing his arms over his naked chest as he stood tall and proud in front of you.

“Get on the bed, Suki,” You adjusted the straps against your thighs, the dildo bobbing between your legs as you watched your boyfriend raise a brow at the sight of you before he moved to lay down on the bed, “On your hands and knees.”

“You’re pushin’ your fuckin’ luck.” He gave you a pointed look.

“You said you were going to do whatever I say.” You pressed your palm to the small of his back, trying to get him into the position you wanted him in.

“Hurry the fuck up then.” He grumbled, moving himself onto the bed as he positioned himself on his forearms, immediately sliding into position behind him in between his thick calves, “This make you happy? You perverted little shit.”

It was moments like this where you were reminded just how lucky you were, Bakugou’s body was built of pure, rippling muscle and even in this position he exuded dominance. His hard cock stood to attention between his powerful thighs, pre-cum still dribbling from the tip and grazing against your fresh sheets as he adjusted his position in an attempt to get more comfortable. You really were lucky to have a man like Bakugou, someone who was willing to go out of their way to please you. Even though it seemed like he didn’t give a fuck about Valentine’s Day, because he truly didn’t. He gave a fuck about you, which is what had him in this position right now, and to you, that was far more important.

You reached out to press down firmly on the pink jewel of the princess plug that was still buried deep in his tight ass, a low groan pulled from his lips as you felt your thighs quiver at the sound. Slowly curling your fingertips around the top as you pulled, instantly feeling his puckered hole clenching around it in a feeble attempt to keep it buried deep inside his heat. Laying your free hand against one of his plush cheeks to give yourself more space to ease the toy out of him. The movement caused Bakugou’s breath to hitch in his throat as he felt the widest part of the plug stretching his rim, your eyes watching mesmerised as the toy finally escaped its confines.

“Fuck,” You whined at the sight of his ass, now stretched from the toy that was buried inside him moments earlier. Your fingertip circled around his rim as his hole fluttered at the touch, eagerly trying to pull you inside him as you teasingly pressed down against his inner walls.

“Greedy fuckin’ bitch.” He grunted, his hips jerking at the sudden touch as you moved with him.

“I wish you could see what I can see, babe.” Your fingers stroked around his gaping rim, dipping inside his pulsing walls as he bucked his hips back against your touch, “All nice and prepped for me.”

You watched the way his inner heat tried to drag your fingers deeper inside him, scissoring your digits to see just how wide the princess plug had stretched him, unable to resist leaning down to pout your lips, spitting into the quivering hole which only made your boyfriend growl underneath you.

“You need to relax, baby.” You cooed, feeling him tightening up as your second finger pushed into his rim, placing a gentle kiss to his ass as you slowly began to scissor your fingers, trying to stretch him out, “Otherwise what I’ve got planned next is going to hurt-”

“Just hurry up and put it in already, fuckin’ bitch.” He snarled, his voice muffled from the sheets on the bed but you knew there was no real malice to his words. Your needy boyfriend really was all bark and no bite in these moments, his thick, reddened cock hanging neglected between his thighs as dribbles of pre oozed from the tip, darkening the fabric of the sheets below him.

“Oh, Suki. be patient.” You tightened the pink straps against your hips, involuntarily licking your lips at the sinful sight, “You made me wait all day, remember?”

“Didn’t make you do shit,” You could tell by his tone how frustrated he was becoming, your fingers absentmindedly stroking along his taint as you watched him grind himself back against your touch, desperate for any kind of relief.

You moved to grab the bottle of lube that sat beside you on the bed, smiling at the feeble grunt that left Bakugou’s lips at the loss of contact, the muscles in his forearm clenching as you dropped some of the clear liquid against your dildo, smoothing it along the length as you watched the prominent veins in his arms tense as he waited rather impatiently.

His hand slipping between his body to give his cock a soft pump, your eyes immediately catching the action as you grasped his wrist, much like he’d done to you this morning and tugged his hand away.

“What did I say about being good, Suki?” You teased, your hand moving back to land a harsh smack to his ass, watching how his body lurched forward at the unexpected movement before the most lewd whine left his lips.

“Piss off,” He growled, earning him another slap to the other cheek, his pale skin turning a rosey red as you shuffled closer to his rear, “Oi, watch it. Shitty woman.”

“You’re so whiny, Katsuki.” You eased your hips forward, placing the tip of the strap against his fluttering hole, silence soon filling the air as Bakugou sucked in a breath. Your eyes watching the way his hips stuttered at the subtle movement, an uncharacteristic whine leaving his lips as you pressed the head of the strap inside his asshole.

“Shit,” Bakugou’s fingers grasped the bedsheets as he choked back a strangled groan, he was fucked. A dull ache coursing through his lower half as he felt the thick girth of the dildo slowly slip into his tight hole. The lube against the toy helped, but it still hurt.

You must have noticed the way he tensed up as you paused your actions, stroking your fingers along his back soothingly as you tried to get him to relax, “Katsuki, is this okay?”

“Yeah,” He murmured back, trying to conceal his feelings, “C’mon, babe. I thought you wanted to fuck me hard.”

You keened at his words, a flurry of emotions erupting in your core as you worried your lower lip, moving your palms to splay against his cheeks for leverage as you slowly began to sink into him, a messy string of expletives leaving his lips as his tightness throbbed around you. Bakugou panted helplessly beneath you as you stroked your fingers along his inner thighs, trying to distract him from the dull ache you knew the toy breaching his hole was causing.

“How does it feel?”

He couldn’t put it into words even if he tried, a euphoric type of delirium that made him feel like he could come undone at any moment, the feeling of your hips pressed snugly against his ass as you bottomed out inside him, your breath hitching at the sight of the toy buried so deep inside him as your fingers tightened against him. You were amazing.

Bakugou humped his hips back against yours in response, easing his body forward as he pulled himself off the length of the dildo, your eyes watching the colour of the toy appear from his pretty ass as he moved, obviously not used to being in this position, before he slammed himself back on your length in one fluid motion.

The movement causing a lewd moan to leave your lips, “Katsuki, shit-”

“I thought you were the one that was supposed to be fuckin’ me, hah?” He repeated the motion, your eyes completely focused on the toy inside your boyfriend, “Such a dirty little tease.”

You couldn’t help it, the image of your boyfriend being split apart on your dildo was damn near rapturous. If this was the view that greeted him whenever he plunged his thick cock inside your quivering walls there was no wonder he would pause his thrusts and paw at your skin to get a better view. It was mesmerising watching the toy disappear inside his heat as he shamelessly bucked himself back against you, trying selfishly to heighten his own pleasure.

“You’re all fuckin’ talk, aren’tcha?” He gave another roll of his hips, “Gonna have to fuck myself-”

Your hand came down on his ass hard, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as a desperate whine left your boyfriend's lips. The sound halting your actions as you let out your own cry at the tone of it, so desperate and needy. Your body quivering as you squeezed your thighs together, trying to give yourself some much needed relief as you began to rut your hips against him, pulling the strap from his ass just to plunge it back in a moment later. The sweet sounds of bliss leaving his lips only serving to make your movements more pronounced against him, trying your hardest to rip more of those lewd noises from his lips as you watched the way his shoulders clenched at the sensation. Bakugou’s movements almost pushed you backwards; he was driving himself back into your touch with such force, every kilo of muscle pounding back against you.

“Fuck, Suki. Look at you fucking my cock like a bitch in heat” Your fingertips dug into his ass, pulling and squeezing at his cheeks as he continued the pace.

“Don’t say it like that, shitty woman.” He turned his head to the side to try and catch your eyes, pearly tears clinging to his lashes as his tongue lolled against his lower lip, exhaling deeply.

“Why?” You teased, “Isn’t that what you say to me all the time.”

You couldn’t help but give another spank to his ass, marvelling at the way his cheeks turned pink from the impact, a low hiss leaving his throat. His fingers dug into the bed sheets as he rolled his hips back into your thrusts, trying feebly to meet your movements and regain some semblance of control.

“So pretty like this, baby.” You gave his ass another smack, enjoying the way he arched his back in pleasure as he ground back against you, “So good for me.”

Your entire body felt as though it was on fire, a scorching heat ebbing through your veins and desperate to be extinguished as you watched the way your big burly boyfriend submit to you. Your smaller frame barely able to hover over him as you snapped your hips against his round ass, hands clinging to any part of him you could to keep some semblance of sanity, your mind already foggy with pleasure. Cathartic moans spilling from your lips as you channeled your energy into making your boyfriend feel good, even as you could feel your thrusts wavering. The intense motions were too tiring to keep up with his pace, but the reward was the sight of how fucked he looked on your strap, the cute whimpers that slipped from his parted lips. The sight was addictive and you wanted more, needed more as you fought against fatigue to continue your movements.

“You like this, Suki?” You cooed as you allowed your fingertips to dig into the swell of his ass, pressing into the reddened skin as he hissed in a mixture of pleasure and pain, “Like me fucking your ass?”

“Fuck,” He grunted, his hips stuttering as the muscles in his back contracted, his grip tightening around the bedsheets as his knuckles turned white.

“Was that a ‘yes’?” You teased, giving a particularly hard rut of your hips for emphasis, the movement causing your boyfriend to cry out in euphoric bliss.

He really did look perfect in this position, every single one of his taut muscles defined as he rolled his hips into your touch. You now understood the sense of power and dominance Bakugou felt over you whenever you fucked, the position had endorphins flowing through your body and it was addictive. Watching the way his body seemed to gravitate towards your own through each precise movement of your hips as you angled the dildo to focus on the same spot inside him that made him cry out in pleasure, hitting his prostate with each sharp thrust.

An uncharacteristic mewl left your boyfriend's lips when you discovered this new spot inside him, your movements faltering as you felt your clit throb painfully between your thighs at the sinful noise. Taking a deep breath before rolling your hips into his own again, trying to make him replicate the sound that had left his lips moments earlier, needing to hear it come from his pretty lips once more. The crude sound that spilled from his lips signalled to you that you’d found it, focusing each sharp thrust against the same spot to try and get him to come undone against you.

“Fuckin’ hell- shit,” Bakugou grunted as the toy repeatedly hit that sweet spot inside his ass, feral grunts leaving his lips as his release swirled inside him, the tip of his cock grazing against the sheets with each rut of his hips that only added to his stimulation, he just needed something more to send him over the edge.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum-”

“Cum for me, my pretty boy.” You cooed, your nails dragging along his back lightly as he continued to rut his hips back against your own. Greedily searching for his own release as haggard pants continued to fall from his lips. Bakugou continued to grind himself against you, arching his back as he tried to stimulate his cock and ass at the same time. Your fingers slipping between your connected bodies to fondle his balls, feeling the weight in your palm as you teased the soft skin, the movement causing Bakugou’s hips to stutter messily, a whine leaving his lips as he felt himself succumb to his bliss. Eyes rolling back as a jumbled cry of your name spilled from his lips, his orgasm surging through him in harsh waves of pleasure. Thick, white ropes of cum spilt from his overstimulated body as he almost collapsed face first into the mattress, his veiny forearms managing to keep himself on his hands and his knees as you continued pressing the dildo into his fluttering hole, helping him to ride out his release.

“You want me to fill this pretty ass with cum, Suki?” You heard him grunt at the question, continuing his steady pace.

“Y-yes,” He managed to stutter, his forehead pressed against the mattress as he felt his climax slowly flowing through him.

The way his asshole continued to flutter around your strap made the silicone squeeze, setting off the motion for the cum you’d placed inside it to seep out, burying the liquid deep inside Bakugou’s tight asshole as you continued rolling your hips against his.

“God you look so pretty like this,” You tried to ignore the throb between your thighs as you watched some of the pink liquid that was inside the dildo spill out from his stretched hole, the liquid dribbling down his skin and dropping to mingle with his release against the sheets.

Slowly easing the dildo back as you pulled out of his abused hole, marvelling at the way Bakugou tried to follow your movements to keep you buried inside him. Your eyes immediately drawn to his stretched entrance, noticing just how empty he looked without the dildo buried deep inside him. Watching the way his walls contracted from the loss of being completely full, the pink cum that you’d filled his ass with slowly being pushed out by the aftershocks of his release.

“Mmm, I should plug you up again baby.” The liquid slowly dribbling down his taint as you reached out a finger to capture it before it fell to the bed, scooping it up and slipping it back inside him, “Keep you all filled up with this cute pink cum.”

“S-shut up,” He stuttered, the movement catching him by surprise, a harsh moan leaving his lips as he sucked in a breath.

“Fuck, Katsuki.” You cooed, “You’re such a mess.”

He just looked so pretty, it was even more than you had imagined. Just seeing him like this in front of you had your cunt throbbing painfully, your eyes mesmerised by the way his walls continued to twitch around nothing, the pink cum collected in his stretched hole. Already reaching for your phone that sat on your bedside table to snap a picture of the holy sight.

Ignoring Bakugou’s pleas and objections as you caught the way the cum oozed out from between his expanded rim, licking your lips at the sight as you dropped the phone onto the bed beside you. Unable to resist leaning forward to dip your tongue inside him.

“Princess, the fuck you doin’-” He grunted, still overstimulated from his climax as you lapped at the mixture, your tongue lashing against his inner walls as crude slurping noises filled the room. Greedily delving between his quivering walls as you collected the pink cum on your tongue as you slurped it from inside his ass, humming against him.

Your fingers moving to card into his messy spikes, nails scratching at his scalp as you tugged his head back towards your own. The movement making him hiss in surprise as he tilted his neck back to meet your gaze, vermilion eyes boring into your own as you opened your mouth to show him the contents. The pink cum against your curved tongue to try and keep it inside you as he groaned at the sight. His eyes rolling back as you brought him into a sloppy kiss, feeling the cum that had just been inside him now fed into his mouth by you.

The mixture stringing from your lips as it dribbled down into his mouth, his lips hungrily searching for yours as you tighten your grip against his messy hair. The movement stopping him from trying to deepen the kiss, bringing your other hand down to hold his jaw as you pulled back, your eyes meeting his own as you noted the way a stray trail of the pink cum slowly trickled down his chin.

“Don’t swallow, Suki.” Your murmured, leaning forward to lap at the remnants against his skin, smiling at the way his half-lidded eyes followed your movements in the hope you were leaning in to hiss him, “Wanna see-”

Your thumb pressed into the curve of his chin, tugging his mouth open as you were able to see the pink mixture settled at the back of his throat, pooling against his tongue as you slipped your thumb between his plush lips, letting the pad drag against his hot muscle as you dipped it into the mixture.

“So pretty,” You cooed, your eyes focused on how fucked out his expression was as he gazed up at you, his watery eyes glassy as his cheeks flushed a dark pink.

Bakugou growled against your thumb, the noise muffled by the mixture at the back of his throat as he trilled. Biting down on your lower lip at the sound as you watched the mixture gargled inside his mouth, your fingertips curling around his neck as you pressed your palm against his adam’s apple.

“Swallow.” You murmured as Bakugou closed his lips around your thumb, his throat bobbing as he swallowed the mixture inside his mouth, his tongue swirling around your digit as he cleaned the remnants of the mixture off it. Your body trembling as you imagined how his lips would feel against other parts of your body, suddenly reminded of the desperate need between your thighs, your panties soaked with your essence and sticking uncomfortably to your skin.

“You better not have any more pink shit planned, Princess.” Bakugou’s lips pressed against your palm as you stroked his cheek, holding his face in your hands in pure adoration.

“Don’t you think you’d look so pretty with pink cum on your face, baby?” You smiled, reaching back to grab the tube of fake cum you’d purchased, Bakugou’s muscular arms quick to grab you around your middle, caging your body beneath him as you felt his hardening cock pressed against the swell of your ass.

“Let’s see how you fuckin’ like it, brat.”

#Bakugou x reader #Bakugou Katsuki x reader #Katsuki Bakugou x reader #Bakugou smut #Bakugou Katsuki smut #Katsuki Bakugou smut #Bnha x reader #Bnha smut #mha x reader #mha smut #the sewer collab

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Note

💕 shaving kink. I can't believe that even something as simple as shaving can cause so much horny 😩 There can be anything here. His girl is just there only watching his shave, she asks him to shave him, Bucky asks her to shave him etc

𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔

Summary: based on the request

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: smut, cockwarming, creampie, unprotected sex, further implied smut, mentions of death, fluff

Word Count: 1333

Masterlist Link

The mirror implied everything that he was about to do as he slathered shaving cream onto the bottom half of his face, over his beard that had grown out a decent amount over the course of his last mission. Bucky wanted his face to look smooth and clean, he usually allowed his stubble to grow a little, but never too much. He knew that you were a fan of his rugged and disorganised appearance, not to mention the delicious burn that would scathe the inside of your thighs whenever he went to town to fulfil his appetite, which was practically the entire endurance of his free time outside of avenging. The pitter patter of your bare feet along the ground alerted him, allowing him to expect you to enter your shared bathroom; he saw your reflection walk until you were behind him, your body blocked from view as he continued to gaze forwards. Your arms interlocked around his waist, as a content smile tugged at his pink lips.

It felt like he could stay like this forever, trapped in the bliss of your tender embrace. A frown paved a shadow across his expression when you released him from your wrist touching clasp, enough it soon lightened as you reeled to the front of his visual perspective, and sat up on the countertop in front of the mirror. “You look good with a completely white beard.” Swiping your finger over the barrier of foam that coated the lower half of his face, you tapped it against his nose, to which he rubbed off on the back of his hand. “You’re so sexy.” Biting your lip, your eyes advanced to his hands, which grasped the blade that he was planning to use to scrape the applied shaving cream and follicles on his face out by their roots. Despite the modern age which supplied razors, it granted Bucky comfort to do things the old fashioned way. Though he still made an effort to learn about the various forms of technology, he still preferred the company and use of old cliches, such as record players and radios. They matched his tastes, which were as fine and timeless as wine. The slip of silver that he danced between the fence of his fingers raised, the blade between his pads as he jutted the handle to tap at the curve of your chin.

“Fancy shaving for me doll face?” The husky tone to his words caused your breath to clog in your throat, though you were certainly not going to decline the trustworthy offer. It made you swell with pride, that the man that had once been brainwashed into being a world renowned assassin, and a target on the government’s most wanted, had an endless abyss of faith in you. With certain hands, you plucked the possible weapon out from his grip, and into your own. It was light, and could do many things, like change Bucky’s face in multiple ways. “Try not to slit my throat, otherwise you’ll be the one left to clean that mess up.” He prematurely warned you, to which you gently kicked his shin, reducing the smug tendency off from his face.

“Shut up Barnes and let me do my job.” Was what you told him as you spread your legs further, so that there was room to accommodate him between them. And as expected, he shuffled closer, to which you responded by grabbing purchase upon his face, as you stroked a line with the sharp edge down his throat. You repeated the action a couple more times, cleaning the blade after each pursuit on the towel that was resting beside you. Bucky’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to cool himself, and not think about how attractive you appeared to him. He allowed you to carry in for a few minutes, until he got tired of just standing there, and began to tug at your shorts, causing you to stop your progress of shaving for him. “Quit trying to distract me Buck, otherwise you’ll have a massive scar from your lip to your jaw.” He simply sighed, rolling his eyes as he without conviction, pulled the material down, coercing you to squeal from subjected shock.

“Loosen up doll, or better yet, let me loosen you up.” He pushed his sweats down, causing his erection to slap up against his pebbled abs, though he frowned as you went to place the blade down. “Oh no, you’re multitasking baby, you’re gonna run that down my face as i stretch you out.” It was a risk, one that had you nervously gulping, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to push him away. Instead he braced his hands upon your knees as he pushed into you, slowly pressing inch by inch into your heat, and leaving you to adjust a time that you would say was too long (no pun intended).

“Move.” Was your order, and Bucky simply tutted you, tapping the back of your hand, hinting that if you wanted him to do anything other than cockwarming, you’d have to finish your project. And thus you rasped the metal against the layer atop of his skin, and raked it down until you could see the smooth exterior of his flesh. It was difficult to diffuse all of your attention onto focusing on not causing Bucky to bleed, when all that your mind ran over was how full you felt from being stuffed by his hard dick. What made it significantly harder was when he began to move, to which your hands lightly shook. You were almost finished anyways, in concerns of removing all the hair from his face and staving off your high. It was a simultaneous struggle, and in the end, you allowed the blade to fall in the empty sink, as you clutched onto his taught shoulders.

And that, you giving up and surrendering to your primal desires made Bucky do the same. He thrust you back against the mirror as he leant and rested his hips against the edge of the bathroom unit. To anyone else that’d have been an uncomfortable position to be in, but the soldier just did, not care about that, nor the remnants of shaving foam that accessorised his complexion. He threw his vibranium hand against the mirror, smashing it behind you as his flesh hand grabbed your hip, rutting you against your abdomen, your clit getting stimulated by the fine hairs below his v line. The pair of you were drawing closer to the equivalent of your highs as your breaths laboured, and you rabidly found each other’s mouths, spearing your tongues alongside one another.

With one particularly harsh thrust you saw stars in your peripheral sight, and Bucky bucked against you, relishing and extending the bliss of his engaged orgasm. “I thought you wanted me to shave your face?” A breathy laugh fled from your lips as he remained inside of you, cocking your brow towards him. “We both knew how this was going to turn out doll.” He responded, grabbing the clean side of the shaving towel just as he was about to pull out from the lack of your cunt. “Though I actually have to finish shaving now.”

“Do you want me to help?” You lifted your hips as he pulled out, his cum leaking from your folds, as you reached down and inserted your fingers into your entrance, pushing his seed back inside of you. Bucky intently watched, licking his lips as he drank down his saliva, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, swirling his wet muscle around in the constrictions of your mouth, attempting to toy with your tonsils. “That sounds like a round two to me…” he suggested, making a part of you felt like you were never going to leave this bathroom, but by no means was that a complaint. You could stay in here until Bucky’s face was completely shaven, and that could be quite the while. Just as well you had plenty of free time.

Bucky Tags: @tylard-blog1 @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @kaitieskidmore1

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bump1nthen1ght · 3 years

Text

Animal Instinct (Werewolf x Reader)

Pairing: Male!Reader/Male!Werewolf

Warning: NSFT Content up ahead (18+ only), Non-Con, Predator-Prey Dynamics, Degradation

Word Count: 2454 words

Summary: You're caught by the beast hunting you, but he makes it clear killing you isn't his goal.

Request: Could ya do a Male werewolf x Male reader. And make it like a predator and prey scenario which turns spicy (SMUT) Plssssssssss😙

A/N: I’m gonna be honest y’all, this one is SPICY 🌶. I’ve added a short optional aftercare scene at the end, which establishes it as a consensual roleplay between two lovers, mostly because of the intensity of this piece. But if straight non-con is your thing, then enjoy!

The bite of the branches sting as you push through them, tearing at your clothes and leaving small scrapes along your skin. But anything is better than what runs behind you, taunting and screeching it’s horrible laugh.

“You can run all you want! But Imma still get you!” The voice cackles, the sound of large branches cracking as he easily tails you. The thump of his paws grow louder and louder, but you keep running anyway. A part of you says its fruitless, but a larger part of you is focusing all your energy on just fucking moving.

Don’t look back, Don’t look back, Don’t look back- That sickening hyena laugh rings through your ears as you are tackled to the ground. Tiny pebbles scratch your back as you and your assailant fall into a clearing in the forest, his large body pinning your shoulders to the ground. You clench your eyes shut, praying for this all to be a dream. That all you’re feeling is an extra heavy quilt your mother threw over you, not this….this thing.

“Gotcha.” He whispers, his wet breath blowing right past your ear. You scrunch up your face and jerk your head to the side, trying to avoid the muggy scent. He chuckles. “I told you.” He leers, a drop of saliva dripping onto your cheek. “Now,” He grabs your jaw, the tips of his claws pressing into your skin, and forces your head towards him, “Look at me.”

You hesitantly open your eyes, blinded by the shocking white canines which hang above you, dripping with drool and exhaling hot breathes of exertion. Your eyes dart up, trying to avoid his gaze, but his claws dig even deeper into your cheeks. “I said look at me, bitch.”

You suck in a deep breath, eyes finally meeting your attacker’s.

One is bright golden, glowing in the darkness, while the other is a faded white. The dull pink scar that runs up the left side of his face goes right across it, only adding to his menacing veneer. His smile is sickly, conniving, and he has the gall to pat your cheek; A reward for listening.

“Good, good. Now, ain’t that a handsome face?”

You don’t answer, the beast’s claws still pressed dangerously close to your neck. You gulp and the creature smiles, relishing in your fear. You can’t help but yelp when his wet nose presses against your throat, taking a large whiff. The creature shivers, his tongue lolling out in pleasure.

“You smell so delicious.” He takes another sniff, right up against your Adam’s Apple. “I love it when they run. Makes it all the more….” His long tongue licks a stripe up your neck, running from the clavicle all the way to your jaw, “Tantalizing.”

He keeps his right hand tight around your jugular while his other slides down your chest. His claws begin to catch on the fabric, tugging until it begins to leave small holes. You force your eyes upward, afraid to ask what he was doing. He eventually reaches the bottom of your shirt, where he grows impatient with his own teasing. In one quick movement, your entire shirt is ripped clean off of you. Goosebumps rise across your skin as your torso is exposed to the outside air. Your chest heaves with anxiety.

“Please.” Your voice begs, tears at the corner of your eyes. “Please just do it quickly.”

The creature clicks his teeth, tossing aside the tatters of your shirt and pulling his face away from your neck. You meet his gaze. His hungry, lusting gaze. He licks his lips, admiring your flushed and sweaty skin. He traces dangerous circles around your nipples with his claws, enjoying how you jump at the contact.

“Sorry, little one.” He grabs the back of your head, limbs moving so fast you barely have time to react, pulling you in for a passionate, sloppy kiss. His canines nip your bottom lip and he easily forces his tongue down your throat. You gag and thrash your upper body around, but his body weight has you pinned and his mouth is ravenous. When he finally detaches, a string of saliva still connecting your lips, he only smiles and whispers, “I intend to take my time tonight.”

He digs his claws into your hair and yanks your upper body upward and off the ground, your elbows pushing back to support the awkward angle. He lifts his lower body off yours, revealing his tattered shorts and massive bulge. It sends shivers down your spine, feeling your stomach drop as he hastily undoes his trouser strings with one hand. Your scalp stings as he keeps it in place, right before he pulls out his cock. Your eyes widen and the creature cackles in delight. He spits into his paw and slathers his cock as he strokes it quickly, the hot-red tip being only inches away from your face.

His cock is thick, girthy and still almost eight inches long. Prominent veins run up the underside and converge at his head, which curves slightly upward. The skin of the shaft shines as his saliva lubes it up.

The creature yanks on your scalp and presses the tip of his cock up against your lips. You clench them shut, but can still taste the slight saltiness of his pre-cum. The creature tightens his grip on your hair and lets out a low growl.

“Open up.” He sneers, pulling on your hair when you falter for a second. You slowly open your mouth, praying he’ll take it easy on your poor throat. Before he slips his head in, the creature lets out another snarl. “Don’t even think about using your teeth. You won’t like me when I’m pissed.” You nod, the tip of his cock slowly resting on the tip of your tongue.

The creature doesn’t shove his cock down your throat, to your relief. Instead, he slowly forces your lips wider and wider as he slots it into your mouth, lavisciously moaning as he feels you clench and gag on his size.

“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff.” His cock hits the back of your throat, pressing uncomfortably up against your gag reflex. The creature licks his lips and his eyes roll into the back of his head. His claws dig into your scalp once more, but he avoids cutting your skin. When he looks back down at you, tears dropping from the corner of your eyes, he smiles. “Not that it would help you right now,” The creature says with a small thrust, forcing you to nearly choke. “But the name’s Riven.”

Another thrust and you try to ignore the overwhelming urge to vomit. Riven picks up his pace, his sweaty fur pressing up against your cheeks as he begins to fuck your face. His heavy balls slap your chin as he pulls out until only an inch as left, right before shoving you right back into his crotch. His moans turn into contented purrs and howls, his humps becoming sloppier and sloppier with each minute. Each thrust pounds the back of your throat, tears now freely flowing down your cheeks. You close your eyes and just focus on not scratching him with your teeth, lest it be the last mistake you make.

“Unng, gods. You were made for this, huh?” Riven strokes up your jaw with his free hand, before slowly moving down to your neck. “My little fucktoy. Throat just perfect for cock-sucking. Fuck!” He moans, stuck in his own ramblings as you try to not taste the salt of his dick. “Such a handsome boy, just asking for someone to shove their dick in your mouth, aren’t you?”

If you had the ability to form coherent thoughts any more, you might have shaken your head. But all your energy is spent on sending your consciousness away from here, trying to breathe through your nose and not choke on this beast's giant cock. Riven licks his lips.

“Oh, I bet you want it. Yeah, I think you do, little slut.” Riven pulls his dick out of your mouth and you gasp for a breath of fresh air. The taste of his dick still lingers on your tongue, and slobber runs down your chin and off his dick and rivulets. Your eyes begin to blur, but are brought back into focus when Riven slaps your cheek. A playful one, but still very jarring. “You’ve been so good to me so far. I’ll give you what you need, as a favor.” Your eyebrows quirk, befuddled, not letting the hope that he’ll let you go simmer in your chest. Riven wipes away the tear tracks that mark your face. It’s a shockingly romantic gesture.

But then he shoves your face into the grass, turning you so you lie on your stomach, and hastily ripping off your shorts. You didn’t think it was possible, but your stomach drops even lower, your heart seizing as you feel his claws fondle your ass.

“No, N-no, please-” Your mouth is shoved back into the grass, your body shaking as the wet head of Riven’s dick begins to circle around your asshole.

“Shut up and let me treat you.” Riven spits onto your butt, rubbing his saliva into your tight hole. The tip of his forefinger begins to press into the ring of muscle and your body instinctively tries to move away. Riven grabs your shoulder with one hand and pins you down. “I’m not always this nice. Fucking enjoy it, ungrateful slut.”

Two of Riven’s fingers force their way into you and the guttural whine that comes from you makes Riven laugh. You clench your eyes shut, burying your face into the rough ground below.

Please, just make it quick.

You pray, knowing the creature would never listen if you asked.

Riven spreads you open with his fingers, pushing and pulling at your insides, only just grazing at the sensuous spot; The spot that sends jolts of electricity down your body, the one that makes your knees shake. They only tease and hint at what’s to come, bringing you only a hint of pleasure.

He pulls them out, quickly lining up his head with your asshole. You murmur more prayers into the ground, trying not to give him the satisfaction of your pleas.

His cock feels even bigger than when it was in your mouth, but Riven still takes his sweet time inserting himself all the way. His claws dig up the dirt, his breath washing over your neck as he leans his chest over your back. You can feel his thick fur rubbing against your t-shirt, moist and thick with sweat. He grunts as he slowly enters you, and growls into your ear when he’s reached the base. He whispers to you, voice stuttering,

“T-told you you 're made for this.”

Riven begins to hump, his hands moving up to your hips to pull you back against his crotch. The noises that leave you, tiny whines and whimpers, are unconscious and impossible for you to keep in. Riven moans and lets out long breaths as he fucks your asshole, his claws pinching against the thin skin of your pelvis as his thrusts in frequency. His dirty-talk is cut short as he simply enjoys the way you suck him in; He can see the way your body tenses and jolts every time he hits your prostate.

Riven loves the fucked-out look you have. You don’t realize it, but your tongue is sticking out of your mouth. Your muffled cries are all he needs, especially with how delicious your ass feels around his cock. Tight and barely-prepared, your beautiful back arching against him only brings him deeper inside you.

Black spots dot your vision as Riven rails you into the ground. Your hips have started to go numb from the brutality, the white scratches on your hips barely leaving an impact on your nerves. But that overwhelming heat remains; that tightness in your belly that reminds you where you are and what you’re feeling. You hate it, hate it so much, but the way his cock presses against that spot feels so good.

Your muscles slowly lose control and go limp from the pleasure, and you feel Riven’s thrust get more and more impassioned. You squeal as he fucks you harder and harder, that crashing wave slowly reaching its peak.

“Cum on my cock. Then I’ll fill you up, like the good little bitch you are.” Your fingers curl into the grass as Riven’s dick twitches inside you, his moans uncontrollable as he reaches his own climax as well. That knot in your belly slowly begins to snap; Closer, closer, closer-

“Fuck, fuck!” Streams of hot cum fill your asshole and you feel your cock jerk as you orgasm as well, cum staining the grass below. Riven lets out a powerful howl as he rides out his orgasm, his thrusts weakening as shoots more and more of his cum down your ass. His claws push you back one last time before he slumps over you. The smell of wet-dog and semen attacks your senses, but it’s like your entire body has lost its will to move. You fall into the grass, soaked in sweat and totally exhausted. Riven’s body weight lies on top of you. Like a humid, disgusting blanket.

“Absolutely perfect for me. My perfect little mate.”

-------------

(Optional Aftercare)

It takes you a second to catch your bearings, your long breaths taking up most of your energy before you can even think about speaking.

“That was….really good.” You sigh, still struggling to catch your breath and slow down your heart rate. Your boyfriend sighs, nuzzling into your back and nodding.

“Yeah. I wasn’t too much, was I?”

You shake your head, cheek still plastered to the grass. “Nope, just enough.” You give him a thumbs up. Riven laughs, the vibrations rumbling against your sore back.

“That’s good. Sorry about the slap, I was really in the moment.”

“Please, you couldn’t hurt me with a love-tap like that.”

Riven moves to push himself up, maybe to protest how strong he actually is, but his shaky arms give out on him and he collapses onto your back. You let out a small ‘ooph’

“..I guess that checks out.”

The two of you giggle, body’s still interlocked and exhausted. Riven runs his fingers, without his claws, up your sides and nuzzles into the back of your neck. You reach back and begin petting his shoulder. Riven’s tail lazily wags behind him.

“Love you.” He whispers, pressing a kiss onto your skin.

“Love you too.” You yawn, stretching your sore neck. “Now get off of me, you smell horrible.”

“Hey!”

#my writing #reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #werewolf x reader #werewolves #monster/human

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jadequeen88 · 3 years

Text

Smart Girls Make Fast Learners

NSFW 18+ ONLY. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

My contribution to the BNHarem’s monthly collab. The theme was SEx work. ⛓This piece is a first real deep dive into darker themes and was actually really, really exciting to write. 🖤 A massive thanks to my dear friend @libiraki for beta reading this.

TW: yandere behavior, toxic relationship, degradation, non-con, dub-con, degradation/praise kinks, mind break, oral (M and F receiving), over stim, loss of virginity, mentions of physical violence.

DISCLAIMER: I do not condone this type of relationship. This is a work of fiction and if this happens IRL please get out of the relationship!

There is a very specific type of dread that occurs when you discover that the person you built your world around has been lying to you. Tamaki Amajiki was experiencing this brand of betrayal for the first time in his twenty-one years on a rainy Tuesday in October in the dim lighting of your dorm room. His grip tightened around the open laptop as he stared at glimpses of flesh in the thumbnails of the many, many videos posted to the site. Previous live streams with thousands of views. He gulped down the bile in his throat as he scrolled through the videos. His shock and disgust morphed into a pure rage as he counted up the live streams that you’d had since first kissing him. 12. There had been twelve. Three times a week for the past four weeks.

Those big doe eyes that looked into his eyes as you tentatively licked the tip of his cock for the first time… mere hours later they were rolling in the back of your head as you got off for strangers on the internet. He couldn’t take it. You were his first… everything… he knew that you hadn’t been innocent in your past. The way your tongue expertly wound around his when you first kissed him amongst your plush pillows and goose-down comforter reminded him of the fact. The low violet LED lighting of your bedroom made him feel like the two of you were in your own ethereal world. He could forgive you for not waiting for him as he’d waited for you.

For the past four years, he kept to the shadows. He was there when the football player from freshman year cheated on you with one of your terrible friends (and when it happened the second, third, fourth time). He was there to binge your favorite shows with you (“*insert current guy you were fucking* just doesn’t get it, he’s not into it. I’m so glad I’ve got you to watch it with!”) He bit back the heartache that would wash over him when you’d pet him and coo over him… you didn’t see him as a man. He wanted to bend you over and prove he could fuck your brains out. He KNOWS he’d be perfect for you. But he never rejected the attention. He smiled and accepted whatever crumbs fell from your table. Whether it be helping you study or letting you complain about your shitty friends or your shitty jock boyfriends or your shitty parents… He gave and gave and gave… until that one day, 35 days ago to be exact, a shift in the tide occurred.

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“So why don’t you have a girlfriend, Tama-kun?”

“Wh-wha?”

Tamaki dropped the pencil he’d been using and before he could bend to get it himself, your hand was on his thigh and he was putty in your grasp. You giggled and cooed over him like you always did, but this time you did it while assaulting his mouth and neck with your skilled tongue. This time, for the first time, you made Tamaki feel like a man. Like YOUR man.

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Over the next few weeks, Tamaki had become quite skilled in pleasing a woman. It only took a little guidance to have him sucking at your clit with just the right amount of pressure. He learned on his own how to couple that with his long, delicate fingers twisting and pumping in and out of your slick hole. You’d cling to his silky hair, pulling him closer as a constant stream of praise tumbled from your lips:

“No one has ever made me feel this good.”

“Your fingers are perfect Tama-kun”.

“I love your mouth on me so much, baby.”

The first time you came on his face, Tamaki knew there was a god because he’d found heaven between your thighs.

But that was gone now… ripped away with one mouse click on the night he was going to finally give you his virginity. He had held on to it like it was a treasure. A treasure he’d present to you one day wrapped up in life-long devotion and worship... But Tamaki wasn’t in heaven anymore. He wasn’t going to worship you tonight. For the first time since laying eyes on you, Tamaki wanted to hurt you.

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You turned the shower off and dried yourself. Wiping the condensation from the mirror, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. You felt like this was going to be the first time giving your body to someone. Tonight was a redo. You were wiping the slate clean. Your first time would no longer be underneath the football captain in the passenger seat of his truck, left feeling sore and unsatisfied. It was going to be with the guy you should have noticed long ago. It would be soft and slow… passionate and filled with sweet words and caresses… limbs tangled in soft sheets that smell like lavender and vanilla.

You applied your lotion and moisturized your face. The red lace adorning your body was arranged perfectly, accentuating the soft swell of your hips and chest. With one last glance in the mirror and adjustment of your bra, you opened the door to the cool air of your dorm room…

...And saw Tamaki looking murderous.

His eyes slowly left the screen to meet your gaze. His tear-stained face had never looked this harsh. His normally sweet eyes were narrowed and red from crying. The sweet lips you’d licked and sucked with such tenderness were hard and cold as they pulled upward in a grimace.

The only thing he said before rising from the bed and setting aside your laptop was your camgirl username. Then he was on you before you could draw a breath to explain.

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Tamaki always thought he liked you best on top of him showering him with kisses and threading your fingers through his hair, but he had to admit… having your arms tied to a bed frame with the silky sash of your bathrobe cutting into your skin was doing things to him. When you sniffled, face stained with tears and snot, his dick twitched in his boxers. The whines you were choking back behind the silky red panties stuffed down your throat sent chills up his spine. You had to learn the hard way not to spit them out after a harsh slap echoed against your skin when you fought back the first time.

Tamaki stood back to survey the mess of skin, spit, and tears for a moment. You were a blank canvas for him to mark up with his rage and lust. You tried to hide away your bare pussy by clenching your thighs together. It only spurred him on.

“Do you have any clue what you’ve done?” he hovered over you, sleek muscles rippling over your own soft body, “I waited, and waited, and WAITED,” he bit down on the side of your exposed neck and you screamed behind the silky gag, trying your best not to expel it from your mouth and receive more punishment.

“I want to give you everything, Y/N,” he licks over the bite, almost apologetically, “I don’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want it to happen like this… FUCK, why?! Why did you ruin this?” his long fingers dug into your cheeks as he forced you to meet his fiery gaze. You couldn’t help whimpering and sniffling back more clear runny snot. You were so humiliated at how disheveled and disgusting you must look. His head ducked into the soft spot between your neck and shoulder and you felt him sob.

Despite the abuse he’d inflicted upon you in the last ten minutes, you nuzzled your cheek into the top of his head in an attempt to comfort him. And he let you… he hated himself for it and he hated you for making this all so hard for him.

“No… no, no, no,” he rose from the bed to set up your ring-light and laptop, ice running through your veins at the sight. Your mind couldn’t accept what was about to happen.

“I’m... I’m not letting you get away with this,” he shook his head and pulled at his hair as he finished setting everything up, “If you’re insisting on being a slut, you’ll be MY slut. And everyone will know…” he jerked your ankle to force you flat on your back.

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Maybe if he’d let the gag out of your mouth, you’d be able to tell him this was just a job to you. That it was clinical… that he was the only one who had ever been able to get you off, that his face was the only one you’d come on… that you needed the money since your parents had disowned you…

But you only laid there, accepting whatever he was going to dish out. You knew he was hurt. You weren’t stupid. You overlooked him while knowing how he felt about you. It took years of horrible one-night stands and countless frat parties pretending that whatever guy you’d picked that night was interesting for you to come to your senses. You hated yourself for being so blind for so long… You adored Tamaki, truly. And you hated yourself for all the times you’d hurt him… so you swallowed your fear and tried to prepare yourself for whatever came next.

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Any soft parts of Tamaki that you’d grown to love were gone, hardened by heartache and desperation. After angling the laptop to get the perfect shot, he started the live stream countdown. Subscribers started trickling in, commenting on how this was a pleasant surprise since it wasn’t one of your regularly scheduled streams. You shut your eyes to pretend this wasn’t real.

Without fanfare or warning, Tamaki ripped apart your thighs, exposing your bare slit. A raw shrill was pulled from your lungs, your back arching from the sting of an abrupt slap. Neurons fired off in your brain… were you in pain? Was it pleasure?

“Since my girlfriend likes to keep secrets from me, I can’t trust what comes out of her whore mouth,” he emphasized his point by stuffing his fingers past your lips, pushing the soaked silk further into your throat, “So she’s going to keep this gag right here until I can fuck the truth out of her,” he trailed his fingers along your reddened folds. Were you getting wet? Horror and shame blossomed in your chest. The fact that you were growing aroused wasn’t lost on Tamaki. His foreign, sadistic grin was back… aimed directly into your soul.

“So that’s what you like, huh?” His nails bit into your thighs leaving tiny crescents behind, “I’ve been too nice? Too soft?” He pushed your thighs impossibly wide, the stretch causing you to moan. He hovered over your core, onyx orbs blown wide with a mix of hate and lust. Tamaki looked like the devil himself and you wondered just how fucked up you were for wanting his punishment.

He opened his mouth and lolled out his tongue, never severing the desperate gaze you both shared, his intertwined with hunger, yours with fear. You’d never noticed how long and thick his tongue was and couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel caressing every ridge and crevice of your inner walls. He flattened the warm, wet muscle and pressed it along your slit. As he slowly slid it closer and closer to your burning clit, you whimpered and bucked your hips chasing the pleasure you knew he was capable of giving… but this was not your sweet boy and he wasn’t doing any of this for your pleasure.

He slung his arm over your lower stomach and growled into your drenched lips. You were pinned down, helpless against his torturous tongue. Fresh tears pricked at your eyes as you remembered how he’d let you pet him and buck into his face, how sweetly he’d ease you into a gentle release. Not this time… it was all teeth and sharp sucks, his tongue forcing you open violently. You were being shoved over a cliff and despite the horror and violence of what was happening to you. You were approaching an orgasmic state at record speed. Tamaki caught on and doubled down. The arm that wasn’t pinning you into the mattress pulled your leg down straight, your knee in a death grip. The new angle made the sensations even more intense. His face pressed harder into your core and you noticed that at some point, he’d started weeping, small sobs vibrating against your skin. The overwhelming mix of emotions and the vigor in which he was eating you shoved you over the edge.

He kept going along at the same speed with the same determination through your orgasm until it became painful. You pushed past it as best you could, allowing him to sob into your over-sensitive skin until he had his fill. As the pain started intermingling with pleasure, your legs shook and the gag couldn’t hold your screams back any longer. You released against his tongue once more, both of you sobbing. He laid against your thigh for what felt like an eternity before he lifted himself to lay on top of you, his hip bones digging into your soft thighs. You could feel the bulge through the thin material of his boxer briefs. Your hips rose to meet it, a pleading gesture filled with the desire to comfort and please him. Your eagerness encourages his mercy, there’s a meek cry that leaves your lips when the damp silk slips from between your teeth.

“Please baby… I’m so, so sorry I didn’t tell you…” your voice was as weak as a kitten’s cry and Tamaki couldn’t deny it made his heart (his dick) clench.

“Say it…” his lips were close enough to kiss, but you resisted… fearful of what he’d do if you did.

“Say what, Tama?” your eyes were wide with concern and confusion. You were desperate to please him.

He turned your face to the camera that you’d forgotten was there and the gravity of the situation crashed around you again. New tears leaked from your stinging eyes as Tamaki whispered into your ear.

“Say that you’re a lying whore…”

“I..I’m a lying whore…”

The last syllable broke as your abused throat grew accustomed to speaking again. He rewarded you with a soft kiss to your cheek and your eyes closed at the tender gesture. The familiar pain in your chest welled to the surface causing even more tears to escape.

“And tell everyone that you’re my own personal slut”

You repeated the phrase to the audience behind the screen and he hummed with approval, trailing one finger along your wet cheek.

“Good girl…” the praise sent shivers through your wrecked body.

“And tell them from now on, your boyfriend will be the only one making you come… that they only get to see you be HIS slut.”

You noticed the chat going absolutely haywire at your announcement. Before Tamaki shut your laptop, you realized you’d made three times as much as you’d ever made before and a twisted sense of accomplishment filled your cloudy mind.

“Please,” your voice came out in a croak, “Please untie me. I wanna make it up to you,” his clothed bulge was burning into your core and you could tell he was close to breaking.

“Please let me make you feel good. I’m so, so sorry,” the clench of your thighs around his waist made him whimper.

He reluctantly pulled away to sit on the foot of the bed. The way he curled in on himself hugging his knees made him appear so small, so fragile… a complete change from the man who’d just manhandled you into restraints.

“You’re a liar…” you almost didn’t hear the whisper, his face buried into his knees.

“Please!” you were losing feeling in your hands and all you wanted was to be free to comfort him.

His eyes met yours and it was your Tamaki again... Your sweet boy… the snarling, green beast that threatened to devour you was sleeping now after it reached its fill of violence. He crawled over your body and released your restraint. Before you even regained feeling in your hands, you wrapped your arms around him. You littered his collarbone with sweet kisses and apologetic sobs. He began to melt into your affectionate gestures and you wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him impossibly close. Wet lips met and your tongues fought against each other for dominance. Hips began to roll against each other, increasing pressure until you both gasped.

The violence was gone, but this was still not a gentle coupling like you’d been planning. Tamaki pulled away and freed his straining cock from his boxers. The skin-to-skin contact made your eyes roll back into your skull. You felt his long fingers grasp your throat, squeezing to remind you just how powerful they were. You shuddered in response, arching upward into his touch, chasing that high his dominance was giving you.

With one swift motion, Tamaki speared you onto his cock. With the minimal prep he’d given you, the stretch was agonizing. This was by far the largest cock you’d ever taken and it stole your breath from your aching lungs. You moaned earning a visceral reaction from the boy on top of you.

Tamaki stayed as still as he could. He refused to come so soon… not when he’d waited so long for this. He tightened his grip on your throat and tentatively rocked his hips into yours. It didn’t take long for it to progress into the most frantic love-making you’d ever experienced.

There was no other way to describe it, he was hate fucking you… biting and sucking your chest until blood bloomed under your skin… hammering into your sore, sticky cunt with total abandon… he was using you like a toy, taking out all his frustrations on your body.

It was ecstasy.

When his hips stuttered as he met his release, the spasms of his tip against your gummy walls sent you into a painful orgasm. You were spent and it seemed like he was too. Your fingers twitched over the crown of his head, wanting to run your fingers through his hair but too scared to initiate any contact with him. As if he could read your mind, he grabbed your hand and placed it on his head. You sighed and began carding through the tangles, gently undoing them. You felt a stream of tears running down your chest as you worked your fingers through his strands. Lifting his face gently, you met his teary gaze with your own.

“Don’t…” he drew in a shuddering breath, “ever lie to me like that again…” the monster behind his eyes stirred quietly, a malicious glint in his eye, before shifting back into your gentle boyfriend.

“Never, I swear to you, baby…” he lets you lift his chin gently to meet your lips. His eyes close and he sighs into your kiss. His muscles relax and when his eyes open again, his warm, adoring expression falls over your face. The hand that wanted to choke the life out of your eyes minutes ago now caresses your jaw tenderly,

“I trust you…” his lips turn up into a grin that’s just a little too wide, “Because you’re a smart girl, aren’t you?” his top lip brushed against your still trembling bottom lip…

“Y-yes…”

You were fucked. This whole situation was fucked up and you weren’t blind to the fact. But as Tamaki nuzzled into your neck placing soft kisses and whispering praises into your skin, you let yourself bask in the gentleness of the moment…

Because you were a smart girl and smart girls learn their lessons quickly...

#bnha #bnha smut #yandere tamaki #tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki x y/n #tamaki amajiki #tw:dubcon #tw: noncon #tw: injury #tw: toxic relationship #tw: dark themes

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years

Text

Misplaced Mail - Part 2

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Mini-Series

How does Rowan respond to Aelin's comment about her using him instead of the new toy she purchased?

Fic Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Part 1 | Part 3

Warnings: Language, NSFW

4644 words

*******

Aelin’s heart pounded furiously as she leaned back against her door. The smirk she’d plastered on slipped and she stared at nothing as she heard her last words echo in her head.

You know, maybe you could help me out sometime and I wouldn’t need this.

‘You’ being Rowan, her insanely hot neighbor who opened ‘this’, the vibrator she’d ordered.

Shit. Fuck. What did she just do?

Realizing she was still holding the toy, she tossed the box across the living room and dropped her head in her hands, groaning.

Oh, Gods, she would never be able to look Rowan in the eyes again. Whatever tentative friendship they had was over; she’d thrown a dildo-shaped wrecking ball into their barely-there relationship. It didn’t matter anymore that the infatuation she had with him had slowly grown into a full-blown crush—maybe something even more—but now, there was no way he would ever speak to her again.

Shit.

And regardless of her crush, she was still his neighbor. They’d have to see each other on a regular basis and, fuck, she was going to have to move.

Before she could keep spiraling, a loud, incessant banging thundered from the other side of her door, startling her enough to jump away from the reverberations at her back.

Aelin stared wide-eyed as the knocking continued.

Obviously, it was Rowan knocking, there’s no reason why it would be anyone else, but why the hell was he here? Was he going to make fun of her? No, he wasn’t mean, and if the last few minutes were any indication he was far too embarrassed at the whole thing.

The knocking kept coming and she took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart, and slowly walked back to her door. She stood on her toes to peer out the peephole and froze.

It was Rowan and he was staring directly at her.

He didn’t look like he did a minute ago all red-faced and fumbling for words, he looked determined. But it was hard to tell for sure through the distorted glass. What she was sure of, though, was that he was looking right at her.

Aelin ducked down and took another breath. She didn’t know why she was so nervous. Normally she was cool and confident, but right now she felt like butterflies were having a circus in her stomach.

Get yourself together, Aelin.

She schooled her features and opened the door.

Rowan’s eyes connected with her’s the moment the door swung open to reveal his towering body with one arm resting on the door frame above his head.

She didn’t say anything as he continued to stare at her. She didn’t think any coherent words would come out if she tried, not given the way his eyes were filled with so much heat it almost knocked her back a step. This wasn’t the same embarrassed Rowan who moments before was blushing and stuttering. This also wasn’t the reserved and collected Rowan who she’d had conversations with and who she’d developed a massive crush on. No, this Rowan was something else.

Gone was the pink tinting his face and ears, now replaced by a predatory focus and undisguised desire. He was looking at her like she was an oasis and he was a man dying of thirst. And not a small part of her was thrilled by it.

A slow smirk spread across his face at her silence, but not willing to be outdone, Aelin drew up the courage that allowed her to make her earlier comment.

She arched a golden brow and asked, “Yes, Whitethorn?” Internally, she praised herself for how calm her voice sounded.

The smirk grew as he slowly and deliberately let his eyes drop to survey her from head to toe and back again. She felt every nerve in her body light up as if his gaze was a tangible thing washing over her.

When his eyes met her once more, he took a step forward so that he was mere inches away from her. Aelin could feel the heat of him and barely resisted the urge to reach out and touch him.

She sucked in a sharp breath as he ducked his head low, his breath caressing her ear as he said in a low voice, “If you really want my help, then call me by my first name.”

She couldn’t stop the shiver that coursed through her as his words hit their mark.

Rowan didn’t move any closer, but she could feel his breath on her skin. He was waiting for her answer before making another move, she realized—trying to see if she was serious or not. When her silence stretched out a few seconds longer, he stepped back. Aelin met his eyes and even though she could see uncertainty there, she knew her own had turned molten at his words. She didn’t think her fantasies about her neighbor would’ve ever come true, but maybe today she’d be proven delightfully wrong.

Aelin licked her lips and it was her turn to smirk as she noticed his attention zero in on the movement. His eyes snapped back to hers and she knew he understood the look of desire and lust she was giving him. A moment passed and she could’ve sworn something electric passed between them.

“Rowan.”

It was as if his name on her lips was permission and a summons because the next moment had her lips crashing against his.

Aelin felt like she’d been struck by lightning. She suddenly couldn’t get enough, and neither could Rowan, it seemed.

Her hands tangled in his hair as his hands gripped her hips, each trying to pull the other closer. Their mouths moved in synch and Aelin couldn’t get enough of the man whose hands now roamed over her body. One of his large hands drifted down to squeeze her ass and she moaned into his mouth at the feeling of it.

Rowan walked farther into her apartment, never taking his mouth from hers, and guided her backward as he slammed the door behind him. She heard the lock click and then both his hands were back on her body. He kept backing her up until she felt the cool marble of the kitchen island at her back causing her to arch further into Rowan. His low growl as her breasts pushed more firmly against him sent hot anticipation coursing through her.

Their lips kept moving together while their tongues tried to savor the taste of the other.

His hands slipped down to the backs of her things, just below her ass, and easily lifted her up onto the counter. Aelin loosed a low moan at the change in position and the thought of all the things those strong arms could do to her. She ran her hand down his muscled biceps and forearms...yes, there were lots of things he could do to her.

She brought one hand to his hair as the other clawed down his back. He made another sound low in his chest and spread her legs so he could step further into her space. His hands on her waist trailed up to graze the undersides of her breasts and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

Desperate for air, Aelin broke the kiss and tilted her head back as Rowan lost no time in connecting his mouth to her jaw, placing open-mouthed kisses down the column of her neck.

Aelin was on fire. She’d fantasized about this more times than she could count and part of her couldn’t believe it was actually happening. But as Rowan’s mouth continued to kiss and suck along her skin, and as he pressed his hips into hers allowing her to feel his hardness against her body, she knew it was real because her fantasies paled in comparison to this.

She moaned loudly when he found the spot at the base of her neck and collarbone. She felt him smirk against her skin and grip her waist tighter as he sucked a bruise to the sensitive area.

“Rowan,” she gasped and slid her hands across his broad chest and down his arms. She quickly unbuttoned his shirt, forcing him off her neck long enough to take the shirt off and throw it across the room. Then she pulled his face back to hers and kissed him deeply. It only lasted a moment before he was gripping the hem of her sweater and pulling it over her head.

Rowan’s eyes turned near-feral and Aelin had never felt more thankful to not be wearing a bra.

Almost reverently, Rowan murmured, “Beautiful,” his eyes trailing over every inch of exposed skin, “so beautiful.”

The rush of heat the pooled in her core didn’t go unnoticed.

Aelin arched her back and then Rowan was on her. She dropped her head back and moaned as she tried to stay coherent through the rush of sensations. Rowan’s tongue and lips took one peaked nipple and were doing wonders at her breast while his thumb and forefinger rolled and squeezed the other one. She tangled her fingers in his hair and held him to her.

Rowan bit down on her hardened peak the same moment he pinched the other and she thought she might explode just from that. She needed more. He lifted his head and began the same ministrations with the opposite breasts.

Aelin couldn’t stop her whimpers as he worked her oversensitive flesh. Her fingers tightened in his hair as his free hand splayed on her thigh, his thumb rubbing slow circles closer and closer to where she needed him most.

“Oh Gods, Rowan,” she gasped, near overloaded with pleasure and anticipation.

He released her breast with an audible ’pop’ and lifted his face to hers, smirking at her heavy breathing and lust-clouded eyes.

Aelin noticed something shift in his face and he let his smirk drop as he leaned his forehead against hers. He was still watching her with desire and need, but there was something more, too—something deeper.

“Aelin,” he rasped, and his breath fanned across her face. He raised a hand to gently cup her cheek, the gesture infinitely more tender than their actions moments before. She leaned into the touch and that seemed to reassure him as he said, “I’ve wanted this for a long time. This. You.”

Her heart stuttered as he spoke. What? He’d wanted her for a long time? She’d wanted him. Had they both just been too afraid to tell each other? Aelin searched his face for answers. He meant it. She could hear the sincerity of his voice and see it in his eyes. She listened as he kept talking while lightly stroking her cheek.

"You're funny and clever and beautiful. When we talk you get on my last nerve, but somehow those conversations are the part of my day I look forward to most."

She huffed a laugh, but Rowan said, "You're the part of my day I look forward to most."

Her throat felt tight. At a momentary loss for words, Aelin kissed Rowan softly, but with all the happiness she felt at his admission.

When she pulled away, he was still watching her. “Rowan,” his eyes shuttered as she murmured his name, “I want this, too. You, too. I have for a while.” And it was like a weight was lifted from her shoulders as she spoke the words.

Aelin’s heart leaped as a bright smile crossed Rowan’s face, and she couldn’t help but mirror it as she thought about how a mere mistake with their mail led to this. How her gorgeous neighbor had opened her vibrator and became so endearingly flustered that she made a joke about using him instead of the toy. How he’d seen the joke as what it actually was: an invitation. How they had just admitted to liking each other—apparently having done so for longer than either of them knew. And how they were both still half-naked, disheveled, and breathing hard in her kitchen.

He kissed her again and this time it was closer to the heat they shared before, but not quite. Aelin needed more, though, so she said with her normal amount of swagger, “You know, If you’d said something to me sooner,” she paused as he trailed kisses down her neck, “then I wouldn’t have had to spend so much money.”

“What?” He detached his mouth and looked at her in confusion as his hands migrated to her thighs.

She smirked, “You have no idea how much I spent on batteries ever since you moved across the hall.”

His eyes darkened and he growled before threading his fingers in her hair and tilting her head back so he could devour her mouth. This time, it was all tongues and teeth. Her hands clawed down his back as she bit his lower lip and tugged on it before slanting her mouth back over his.

Rowan stepped as close as he could get to her body and moved his hand up to the apex of her thighs. She wanted to sigh in relief as his thumb finally—finally—brushed across her clit. She didn’t sigh, but she did moan when he started rubbing small circles on her, the fabric of her leggings and panties making the fiction deliciously sweet.

Aelin could hardly think straight, but she did have the coherency to realize that Rowan absolutely knew how to multitask. One of his thumbs was rubbing circles on her clit while the rest of his hand gripped her thigh with a bruising intensity; his other hand was up massaging her breast, occasionally running that thumb over her nipple, keeping it peaked; not to mention the luxurious way his tongue was moving with hers.

Without warning, he moved his hands to the backs of her thigh and before she could protest the loss of his fingers, he was lifting her from the counter. Aelin wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed a series of marks along his jaw. She thought he’d carry her into her bedroom, but instead, he walked to the couch, apparently deciding the bedroom was too far away.

Rowan sat down on the cushion, keeping Aelin wrapped around him so she had a leg on either side of his thighs, effectively straddling him. Pressed together, they both moaned at the sensation of her nipples rubbing against his hard chest.

Aelin wrapped her arms around his neck and started rolling her hips, desperately trying to get some friction to relieve the ache between her legs. She could feel him, hard and ready, straining in his pants, and Aelin didn’t hold back her groan as she shifted her hips and felt the shape of him press against her core.

Rowan’s hands instantly flew to her hips to grip them and help move her along his hard length. He worked her over his lap a few more times before sliding his handing below the waistband of her leggings to cup her ass in his hands. When he squeezed, she let out a sound halfway between a moan and a whimper.

“Rowan, I need you.” She didn’t think she could wait much longer.

He nipped at her lip and his hands squeezed again before gripping her leggings and panties in a single hold and pulling them down, lifting each of her legs to get them off as quickly as he could.

His hands gripped her hips again but instead of staying there, he used his hold on her to lift her so she was only straddling one thigh. Almost unconsciously, her hips started rolling over his leg. She threw her head back as her naked core ground down against the rough fabric of his pants.

“That’s it.” Rowan’s guttural praise sent another wave of heat coursing through her and she struggled to keep her breathing steady as she rolled her hips faster. “Ride my thigh, baby.” His hands roughly grabbed her hips and moved her faster.

Gods, his voice was almost enough to send her over the edge.

“Rowan, yes,” her grip on his shoulders was so tight she was sure it would leave marks, but she didn’t care, not as the coil in the pit of her stomach tightened with every movement of her body.

He kept one hand on her hip and moved the other so he could rub her clit again. It was almost too much but in the best possible way. She moved faster, pushing down harder against his thigh in a desperate search for more friction. Rowan’s fingers rubbed harder and she screwed her eyes shut as the pressure inside of her built and built.

“You’re so beautiful,” He kissed her neck, “Look at you,” his mouth was right next to her ear sending shivers straight to her core. “Gods, I’ll never get tired of the face you make when you moan my name.”

She was close and his words were quickly sending her to the edge.

“That face, Aelin, is what I’ll see every time I close my eyes.”

She couldn’t respond, just moved her hips faster.

“And all those little sounds coming out of that wicked mouth,” he chuckled darkly, urging her hips to keep moving. “I have all kinds of plans for that mouth.”

She was so close, she could almost taste it—

He sucked on her earlobe, then said in that low purr, “Come for me. I want to watch you come undone knowing exactly who got you there. Come. For. Me.”

Aelin shattered.

All the tension exploded, her head fell into the crook of Rowan’s neck and she opened her mouth in a silent moan. Her legs shook as her orgasm crashed through her in wave after wave of cascading pleasure.

Rowan kept her moving, his hands never leaving her hips. He slowly brought her down from her high, continuing to mutter praises in her ear.

She smiled against his skin; her mind was fuzzy and her body aching in the most amazing way.

Aelin pressed languid kisses along Rowan’s neck. She shifted her hips and could still feel his erection pressing forcefully against his pants. At the movement, he cursed and stood up, wrapping his arms around her waist to keep her pressed against him as he hastily walked them into her bedroom.

Aelin sucked a particularly heavy bruise into the side of Rowan’s neck and decided that the low moan it drew from the back of his throat was one of the sexiest sounds she’d ever heard.

“Mm, Rowan,” She struggled to get out words while attaching her mouth to his skin, “I need you. Now. Please.” The last word she said was through a whimper as his fingers found her clit again before slowly sliding down to run through the juices of her dripping core.

He was still holding her up with one arm as he brought the other to his mouth to suck her juices from his fingers, keeping his eyes locked with hers and moaned at the taste of her.

She was panting; Aelin had never been so turned on. And she needed him—now.

“Ro, please” she tried to squirm in his grip.

She didn’t know if it was the desperation in her voice or the name she used for him, but suddenly she was thrown backward onto the bed, landing with a soft bounce. She laid there, soaking in the image of Rowan prowling towards her while unbuckling his belt and removing his pants and boxers. His hungry eyes didn’t leave her face as hers unabashedly went straight towards his cock as it sprung free. Her mouth watered. He was as beautiful as she imagined, and as deliciously big as he felt when she was grinding down on him.

If hadn’t needed him before—which she absolutely did—she would be desperate now—which she was.

And then Rowan was on top of her with an arm on either side of her body. He paused a moment to look at her sprawled beneath him and slowly dragged a hand down her neck, the valley of her breast, her stomach, and finally down to cup her between the legs. He smirked.

He was about to say something else, but she cut him off, “Later.” She insisted, knowing she was plenty prepared for him, “I need you inside me.” Aelin pulled him down so his full weight was pressing her into the mattress. “Side table, top drawer—condom.”

Rowan blindly reached out and grabbed the small foil from where she said it’d be. He ripped it open and rolled it on.

Aelin raised herself on her elbows and bit her lip as he stepped to the edge of the bed. He smirked again and wrapped his hands around her ankles, pulling her to the edge of the bed with a squeal. Rowan chuckled at the sound and smiled down at her.

She grinned back and relished in the feeling that this wasn’t awkward. As she looked at Rowan smiling above her, she knew it was perfect.

He leaned down to kiss her, deep and passionate, then pulled away and held her gaze.

"Aelin." His hands grazed her body. "Do you want me to fuck you?" She shivered as he held her gaze intently. "Do you want me to make you feel good?"

“Yes. Please, Rowan.”

He pulled her body even closer to his and lined his cock up with her entrance. He didn’t immediately push in, instead, he slid the shaft through her folds, coating himself in her slick. When his tip brushed against her clit, she let out a moan.

“No more teasing, I need—”

And then he was sliding into her. And in. And in. Her back arched and she cursed as Rowan bottomed out.

“Fuck, Aelin,” Rowan hissed from between his teeth, his brow furrowing in concentration to stay still while she adjusted. “You’re so tight. You feel so good.”

She couldn’t form words, but she lifted her hips in silent request and Rowan took that as permission to let go

He grabbed one of her legs, resting it on his shoulder, and used his hand to hold her other leg wide open. He didn’t hold back, he thrust into her with everything he had. It was as if the months of silent desire all crashed into him now and he had to show her, physically, just how much he wanted—needed—her.

He shifted the angle of her hips and then he was hitting the spot deep inside that sent her head falling back and a string of curses flying out of her mouth.

“Oh! Fuck, Rowan, yes!” She met his eyes and he turned his face to kiss her calf still resting on his shoulder.

He didn’t slow his pace as he grinned down at her, “There you are. I thought you’d gone mute on me.” She didn’t correct him by saying she’d been anything but mute. Speechless, maybe. Mute? Absolutely not.

Rowan was relentless, and she loved it. His hips kept snapping into hers sending shockwaves of pleasure surging through her. Already, she could feel another orgasm building.

One moment he was fucking her, the next he pulled fully out, gripped her hips, and flipped her over so she was on her hands and knees. Rowan pulled her hips back to his and then he was spearing into her again. Aelin cried out with every thrust, pushing her hips back to meet Rowan’s movements.

Then he slowed down to a leisurely pace and she tried to get him to speed up again but then she felt him lean over her so his chest was pressed flush to her back. She shivered as he spoke into her ear.

“Are you close, Aelin?” His voice was rough from exertion. He was still moving in her but not nearly as forcefully as needed him to be. She wanted him to unleash himself, to fuck her so she couldn’t walk straight.

“Yes! Yes, yes, please, fuck me, Rowan,” she gasped out.

He huffed a dark laugh and moved one hand down her front to tweak her nipple and causing her to cry out. Then his hand drifted further until he was rubbing her clit in harsh bursts. He stood back up, this time pulling her with him, so she was kneeling on the bed with him standing behind her.

She could feel herself getting there.

“You can do it. I know you can, baby.” He picked up his pace and rubbed his fingers in time with his thrusts.

Oh gods, oh gods, it was too much. It was so good.

“Look at me.” Rowan grabbed her chin and tilted her head to the side to plant a wet kiss to her mouth. She wrapped her arms around the back of his head to keep herself in place as he continued to fuck her into oblivion. “I want you to look at me when you come. I want you to know who made you feel this good.”

“You,” Aelin gasped, “You, Rowan. Gods, You.”

She felt her orgasm climb higher. She was right on the cusp of something incredible and she wanted more, needed more.

As if he could sense that she was right on the edge, he moved the hand that was gripping her hip down to her entrance where he kept thrusting relentlessly.

“You’re doing so well.” Another kiss to her neck. “I’m going to help you do even better.”

His middle finger gently brushed the place where his cock was thrusting inside her and—while still using his other hand to rub her clit—pushed his finger inside her along with his cock.

Her head fell back onto his shoulder and he continued to kiss her neck, while she let out a broken moan at the added stretch as he fingered her and fucked her simultaneously.

It felt so gods damned good.

“The next time you touch yourself,” his voice sounded especially strained in her ear, but she couldn’t focus on anything beyond the sensations he was making her feel. “I want you to think of me. To remember how good I fucked you, and how hard I made you come.”

His words were her undoing.

Aelin screamed as released barreled through her. Her legs shook and it was only Rowan’s arms around her that kept her from falling on her face. She felt his thrusts falter and then he cursed as he came, filling up the condom as her walls fluttered around him.

He held her against his body until he could steadily set her down on the bed and slowly pull out of her.

She whined softly at the sudden emptiness, but a moment later Rowan was there lying on the bed next to her and pulling her into his arms.

When she opened her eyes, Rowan was already staring at her with a soft, post-sex, dazed grin.

She knew she didn’t look any less dopey with her smile.

Rowan ran a soothing hand down her arm, gently pulling her closer to him. “Are you okay?” The concern in his face made her heart flutter.

“Better than okay,” Aelin rested an arm across his chest and laid her head on his shoulder, “that was amazing.”

She could help a small giggle that escaped as Rowan grinned at her praise.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the day I moved in and saw you outside your door watching as I was moving boxes."

She raised a brow and smirked, “well, I’ve wanted you to do that ever since you moved in and I watched you effortlessly haul those boxes around."

He huffed a laugh and said, “Get coffee with me tomorrow.”

Aelin smiled broadly and tucked herself even closer into Rowan’s side. “It’s a date.”

*****

Taglist:

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verus-veritas · 3 years

Text

Legacy

Revenge, Technology, Mind Transference, with a dash of unrequited love. What’s not to love? /Verus

"Dude! P-please! I'm sorry! Whatever you think I've done, it must all be a mistake!" Andew yelled, thrashing against his confinements and eyeing the only point of exit in the room. His firm muscles were wet and taut against his clothes, and his handsome face flush red with terror and worry.

"Are you really sorry though? It didn't seem like it from the way you acted during Gavin's funeral. The sneers and laughter you made as his parents said their final words to him..." I said, hiding in the shadows. Only my feet and the contours of my body was visible for him to see.

"N-no offense. I just found it funny when the parents said they wish he'd atleast gotten a girlfriend before he passed away-" The same devious sneer returned on his perfectly handsome face, as he most likely remembered the scene in his head.

"Of course you found it funny. Because you knew he was completely gay. Gay, and had a massive crush on you for ages. He literally worshipped the ground you walked on, and spent most of his waking hours wishing he could be with you." I explained, slowly walking around him as I pulled out a flimsy latex cap with electronical nodes attached to it.

"And I let him. I did no wrong." Andrew talked back. His eyes following my figure until I stood directly behind him.

"No! You lead him on, made him believe you were actually interested in him. And then you destroyed him. You are the reason he ran out of the house crying, and you are the reason he didn't see the truck speeding towards him!" My voice was shaking as I quickly slapped the cap onto his head, accidentally pulling out a few strands of his hair.

"Ouuch! Get this thing off me!" He shook his head and began thrashing about again.

"You know. He really loved you... He said he was going to make you the happiest man on earth. Showering you with gifts and undying love, and be by your side forever and ever. That's why he trusted you so wholeheartedly and let you do whatever you wanted."

"Naive..." He quietly muttered under his breath.

"He was even fine with you staring and drooling over other girls. As long as he could stay by your side."

"What a fag..." I could hear him gritting his teeth.

"But that evening when you invited him over, only to have him find you in the bedroom hooking up with a random girl... that completely ruined him. You shattered his dream, his self-confidence, and his sensitive soul! He didn't know what to do and where to go, which is why he ran straight out into the traffic..." My voice was uncontrollably going up and down now, as I was unable to hide my emotions.

"Dude only had himself to blame. He should've known I only had him around for the free stuff he bought for me." Andrew snickered, as he looked down at the expensive shorts Gavin had bought for him a few weeks prior.

"How dare you!" I tried to punch his shoulder, but knew I was too weak to do any real damage against his hard muscles.

"Y'know... it almost sounds like you had feelings for him- Wait a minute! You're that pastry white kid that always walked around with him aren't you?! Hah! 'Ghost boy' we called you!" The tone in his voice shifted - with more confidence and arrogance. Back to the way he normally talked - a manipulative bastard at heart. "I see. So you best friend Gavin never had feelings for you, and now that he's gone you blame yourself for not having stopped him."

"......" I clenched my hands till my knuckles turned white.

"Hah! Maybe you really were a horrible friend. Have you thought about that you might be the reason he's dead?" He laughed, obviously enjoying the way he was toying with my feelings.

"...you have no idea..." I mumbled, as tears began to flow down my cheeks.

"Maybe you should be the one sitting in this chair - tied up and wearing this stupid cap on your head. Hehe."

I took a deep breath and calmed myself, before walking around him once again and turning so he could see me. See the real me... one last time. "I will. Soon."

"W-what do you mean with that? And why are you also wearing that ridiculous cap?" He asked. His tone in voice once again becoming panicked and anxious.

"You see. The reason why I'm so pale is because I spend so much time at home playing with my inventions and devices. Coding is one of my favorite things to do. And for the last few months I've relentlessly been working on creating this device we're both wearing right now. It was originally only meant to be used on you, recoding the patterns in your brain into loving Gavin as much as he loved you. While also erasing all of your bad traits and turning you into his ideal boyfriend... but there's no reason for that anymore, is there? So, I upgraded it into 2.0, which can now be used with two people."

"P-pff... yeah right... and what does this new version do then?"

"It can transfer the consciousness between two human brains. Even recoding the brain into believing the new consciousness have always been in control of its own body. All the memories, habits, and even muscle memory will be easily accessible to the new permanent owner." I explained, as I began fiddling with a machine by our side. The nodes on our caps lit up.

"Permanent?! Wait a minute. Let's say all of this freaky sci-fi stuff is actually real, what's going to happen to my consciousness?" Andrew asked, as he began to get more anxious by the beeping sound of the nodes on his head.

"All gone. Overwritten by mine. Erased out of existence with no way of restoring it." I answered nonchalantly. Flicking the last switched around, the device was now ready to be activated.

"What the fuck! Then you're basically killing me?! Get me out of here, you sick freak!" He began violently thrashing against the back of the chair, and flung his head around to get the latex cap off... but to no avail.

"Am I really though? Your memories, your body, and your relationships will all still be here, under my complete control. I'm just... discarding a small part of you that's no longer necessary."

"No...no... Help! HELP! SOMEONE!! THIS CRAZY MOTHERFUCKER IS GOING TO KILL ME!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, but the soundproofed walls would do him no good.

I flicked the final switch and walked over to him as the machine began buzzing. Standing in front of him, I suddenly sat down on his lap and grabbed hold of his face. I stared into his fearful yet piercing blue eyes and slid my hands across the cheeks and contours of his face.

"This beautiful face of yours that Gavin loved, I promise I'll take good care of it and cherish it until the day I die. It's the least I can do to honor my friend Gavin." I leaned forward and gently laid a kiss on his sweaty forehead, while holding him in place as he screamed for all he was worth.

"No! Noo! NOoO-Uoogguuughhhh" His scream turned into a gurgle as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. At the same time, my eyes went white and hazy as my pastry body slumped over and fell on the cement floor. Most likely cracked open its head or something from the sound of it.

"NgOOuoouughhgguuuhh!!!" Andrew's head flung back and forth as if to fight whatever was invading his head, but it barely took a minute before the thrashing suddenly stopped and his head slumped down.

His eyes were closed, his face flushed red from exertion, and the sweat and drool pooled down onto his expensive shorts. A further five minutes of stillness and blinking nodes passed before any activity was seen.

---

*Gasp*

I awoke to the cap on my head giving me a quick electric shock. In front of me laid my old withered body, lifeless and without a doubt stone dead. My throat felt dry and tired, and the ties on my arms hurt like hell. In fact, everything felt, looked, and smelt different. The smell oozing from my sweaty clothes that once smelt great now stunk in my nose. I could recall from Andrew's memories that he showered atleast twice a day. I showered atleast twice a day.

After some fiddling with the special knots in my back, I easily slipped the rope off. Massaging the sore parts on my wrist, I soon relished in how big and strong my new hands looked now. Hands who should've been holding Gavin's...

I explored further up till I reached my new bulging biceps. Squeezing them I felt how firm and taut they were. I never in a million years would have managed to get myself this big, but here I was, standing in the body of a perfect specimen. The body of the man who my friend loved, but who didn't truly love him back. If only I could've done this before Gavin died... Would he have loved me instead, or would he have hated me for what I had done? Well, atleast he would've been alive.

My focus went to my Andrew face, as I caressed the blemish-free skin and the small stubble forming on it. The face of the man I had hated for a while, the face of the man whose identity I would have to take over, and the face I would see in the mirror for as long as I breathed. It was one of the most handsome faces I've ever laid my eyes on no doubt, so I'm perfectly fine with that decision.

My hands continued to explore what was now mine; running fingers through my lush but wet hair, following the outline of my cobblestone abs, and shaking my strong and muscular legs awake from sitting too long.

Not long after I finally slipped the drool and sweat-soaked shorts off myself and watched as the tool between my legs arose to its new owner. It might not have been as long as my former one, but the very girth of it made up for it. As I enveloped it between my palms, I realized that no one had ever been as intimate with Andrew's tool as I was now, and no one would ever be. Not even Gavin would if he was somehow resurrected. Only I, Andrew would ever know how this throbbing member would feel in my own hands, the endorphins and pleasure its touch would send throughout my amazing body, and the ultimate earth-shattering orgasms I would experience as I edge myself to climax every day from now on.

The very thought of it immediately brought me to the brink of orgasm, so I quickly spread my legs apart and thrust the member fully through my grasp. It was all that was needed as I suddenly began shaking with pleasure and exploded shot after shot of Andrew seed all over the floor, myself and my former lifeless body."Ugh! Uuuugh! UUUuOOGggHH!!"

“.... Holy shit.....” I moaned, slightly shocked by the unfamiliarity of the new voice coming from my throat.

Reeling from my first ever orgasm in my new body and life, I sat back down on the chair and took a breather. I was sweaty, my crotch sticky, and my armpits stunk. Yet, I know I still looked glorious. How couldn't I? After all, I am Andrew. The man who Gavin loved, and who loved him back just as much, if not even more...

I will dedicate this new life of mine to worship and care for this body just as much as Gavin would have. His legacy, Andrew's body and life, and my consciousness have finally become one... and I promise I will carry them with pride and confidence to the grave... even if it is the only thing I will accomplish in this short insignificant life of mine.

#possession #revenge #selflove #love #dark #permanent #identity theft #mine

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sillyrabbit81 · 3 years

Text

The Instructor - Part 5

Summary: Augusts confronts your betrayal.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader

Word Count: approx 4k

Warnings: Dark, violence, abuse, choking, hitting, punching, orgasm denial, orgasm control, sex (p in v), mdom/fsub, switch, praise kink, degradation kink, name calling, dubious consent. I tried to mention everything if I missed something I sincerely apologise.

Authors Note: FINAL PART. There are probably going to be massive plot holes, sorry about that, this was never meant to be a series, so I didn’t do anywhere near the set up needed. However, I’m glad I did do a series because I enjoyed playing around with some of the darker aspects of the story. If it sucks, I'm sorry, I just went for it and this is what came out! It probably also isn't strictly cannon, but I made use of some aspects of the MI cannon.

Unbeta'd and unedited, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Part 4

The Instructor Part 5

You thought you had felt true fear before this moment, but you were wrong. Confronted with the unyielding stare of August, your stomach twists and your mouth goes dry. You’re completely and utterly fucked.

You try to answer August, make up a believable lie, beg forgiveness, say anything. But you can’t, it’s like he can see into your soul and you know that any lie you tell him will only make him angrier.

Quicker than lightning, August’s hands grip your throat. He pushes you to the wall, uncaring as your head hits it so hard your vision swims. Both his hands push into your neck, compressing your arteries and you feel the blood pooling, building pressure behind your eyes. This wasn’t the subtle choking he engaged in when you played. No, this was Special Agent August Walker trying to kill you.

You are stretched against the wall, your toes barely touch the ground. You are a trained soldier, but August is a trained assassin, you know you won’t last long in a situation like this, you will pass out in less than a minute. Then all August had to do was keep squeezing and you would be dust.

“Why, pet?” August asks through clenched teeth.

You can’t speak, you have no air. You plead to August with your eyes, silently begging him to stop. His hands press harder and you feel him crushing your trachea with his leathal hands. You scratch at his hands, his face, his eyes. You kick with your feet, frantic, feeling yourself get weaker by the second. You get one lucky shot in and for a moment August’s grip falters as he doubles over retching in pain.

You slam the palm of your hand into his forearms and he lets you go. You run for the door, your nudity the last of your concerns. Your throat hurts as you run, bruised and raw, you gulp breath in, coughing you try and fill your lungs again. You reach the door, pull the handle. It stops, not making a full rotation.

“Fuck!” you scream in frustration. You turn the lock and try to open in again. It does and for a brief moment you taste freedom.

A foot kicks the door closed and August is in front of you. You back away from him as he locks it again. In the unlikely event you live through this night, you will never forget the snarl on his face. You look into his eyes, expecting to see the eyes of a killer and August doesn’t disappoint. His azure eyes burn with such murderous intent, for a moment you think you are going to lose control of your bladder.

But there is something else there, something he tries to hide behind his fury. You search his face, trying to see past the mask and find what he is concealing. You wince when you see it. August was hurt. Your betrayal had hurt him.

“This is even more fun than the first time we fucked, Pet,” he says, mockingly. August advances on you with a bullish intent. He is magnificent as he stalks you, his loose pyjama pants hang low on his hips, his chest is taut and his thick ropey arms flex as he readies them for a fight.

You try and think clearly, maybe you should confess everything. He’s going to kill you if you don’t. If only you had long enough to check his records, but you couldn’t put your associates at risk if you weren’t sure.

Lifting your chin, you accept your fate. You ready a fighting stance, and August does too. You understand you can’t beat him, but you won’t die without a fight.

You dodge his first attack, and you’re not surprised that he led with his fists. He only needs one to land and he would break your bones. You retreat to the kitchen, praying its laid out the same as yours. Opening the draw with the knives, you pull one out. It’s not ideal, its weight wasn’t distributed well for fighting, but it was better than nothing. Your gun is in your room and you have no idea where August keeps his.

Turning the tables and going on the offensive, you make August back up and you move to the door. You hold the knife expertly, and as long as you keep August from getting his own weapon, the fight might be a fair one. You have so much adrenaline pumping through your veins you start to shake. The blade accentuates the tremors and August see’s, of course he would find your weakness.

“Put the knife down, Pet,” August orders, his voice was smooth, calm and commanding. You nearly stumble, his words sent shivers down your spine. How can he still have an effect on you? “You know I can’t let you out of here.”

You gage the distance to the door, it was still so far away. Your fear made you want to run to it again, but you knew it would be a mistake. Better to keep advancing slowly, forcing August back.

But August stops retreating and plants himself in front of the door. He stretches his neck, rolls his shoulders, his naked torso hides nothing and you see his muscles ripple under his skin. Your body and mind are in conflict, confused by the stimulus. You’re terrified of August, but fear of him and what he is capable of was part of his appeal, part of his savage, dominant sexuality. Your body can’t tell the difference and you feel it responding, your centre grows warm, throbbing and your arousal moistens the apex of your thighs.

“Please,” you murmur. Confronted with August’s obstruction and his dismissiveness of your threat, you lose hope. You feel weak and exhausted. Again, you contemplate confessing everything, but you aren’t a coward, you were realistic.

The cruel snarl on August’s face becomes a smirk as you plead. “I love hearing you beg, Pet,” he taunts.

He attacks again, this time grabbing a chair from the dining table. You try and duck but he is too fast for you and the solid wood chair cracks you over your head and shoulders. You stumble to the ground; your vision wavers and you nearly pass out. You try and get to your knees, but your arms won’t cooperate and you fall to the floor, no doubt you have a concussion. You look for the knife, see it about a metre away. With your head thumping and your heart racing, you scramble for it, but August reaches you first.

Gripping both your ankles, August uses your legs and body weight against you, flipping you onto your back. He pulls you to him, your skin rubs against the carpet and you howl with pain as you feel the fibres burn your ass and back. August climbs on top of you, his hands are at your throat again, squeezing the life from you.

“You’re killing me, August,” you try and say, but all you hear is your pathetic whimpers. You feebly punch and slap at August, but you are spent. You give up, you tried. You get angry at yourself for even thinking of giving up, but you didn’t know what else to do. You can’t win. Tears well in your eyes and start to roll down your cheeks. You squeeze them shut, ashamed that you cried in your last moments, that you gave up, that you didn’t fight.

The pressure on your throat relaxes, and you gulp in air, coughing and retching as your inflamed throat protests. You try to roll to your side to breath easier, but August doesn’t allow it, his body still traps yours and one hand still grips your throat. You feel his whiskered lips on your cheeks, kissing away your tears. You open your eyes and are consumed by his and the fire that burns within them. You wonder what your eyes are saying to his.

August shifts his hips and you feel him, hard under his thin pants. Your eyes widen, he really had been enjoying the fight. It scares you, feeling how hard and fully erect he his, aroused by trying to kill you. But you knew how hypocritical that was, because even now, terrified, a moment from death, you ache for him.

You roll your hips, sliding your bare, slick slit against August, the fabric of his pants harsh against your clit, but you feel him beneath it, and you can’t stop. You don’t want to but your craving for him was too strong.

If you didn’t know August as well as you did, you may have missed the surprise in his eyes. It came and went so quickly. His lip curled, triumphant, he had you where he wanted you, desperate, without fight left and completely his.

August’s arrogant look, his smug sneer, his complete domination of you made you lose the last shred of dignity you had and you beg for him.

“Please, please,” you whimper.

“You’re such a little whore,” August scolds you. “Do you think you can fuck your way out of this?”

You shake your head, “No.” You cry again, fat tears rolling down your cheeks in a constant stream, but you don’t stop your wanton grinding. You need to feel him inside you.

“Why are you so fucking wet, Pet?” August asks, his jeering tone warmed your face with shame.

“I don’t know!” you cry.

“Yes, you do, Pet.”

You try to turn away and hide from his knowing eyes. August won’t let you, griping your cheeks with his fingers, digging deep, the soft flesh pressing painfully against your teeth. Through your sobs you say, “Because I want you.”

“Beg me,” August’s voice changed, becoming low and hoarse. He starts to move with you, teasing you. “Beg for my cock.”

You don’t try to hold back, the words fall freely, “Please August, please.”

August tuts, “You can do better than that, Pet. Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me, August,” you sob. You’re ashamed of yourself, of how wet you are, how badly you want him, how easily you submit. But it feels too good, playing on the edge as you were, where fear and arousal become interchangeable, you had never felt such bliss.

Taking his pants off, August fists his cock as he takes you in, his gaze rakes over you, lingering on your desperate cunt. Lining himself up, he teases your entrance. When he slides himself over you, he groans as his eyes close and he throws his head back. You realise, you’re not as powerless as you thought, he wants you too and just as badly.

Bringing his head down next to yours, he growls in your ear, “Keep going, Pet. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck your hot little cunt.”

You start mumbling, “Please August, please. I need you.” You throw your arms around him, grip his ass and pull him closer. Your nails dig into his skin as you urge him into you.

With a violent thrust, August enters you. Both of you cry out, your twin shouts echo in each other’s ears. “You feel so good, pet. So wet and so fucking tight.” You mewl under him. He is stretching you, painfully. He offered your core no preparation and it protested his invasion, clamping down hard. August wasn’t fucking around, if he had taken any pity on you in the past, he wasn’t this time. He pumps into you, his pelvis making long driving strokes, your walls straining against the force of his cock, unready for his intrusion.

August hooks your knees over his arms and forcing your legs wider, he is finally sheathed. Increasing his pace, he uses you, furious, punishing and without pity. He offers you no pleasure, he takes what he wants. His face above you is twisted, angry, and hateful. This is payback, revenge, hurt me and I’ll destroy you. But despite that, or maybe because you feel you deserve it, a familiar pressure starts to build between your legs.

“August,” you beg. “I need to cum, please.”

Leaning down, pushing his weight onto your already strained legs, he brings his face to yours. His eyes are dark and sadistic as he says vindictively, “No.”

You groan. You were so close, you don’t know if you can stop it. “Please!” you howl. Fresh tears fill your eyes and you implore him.

“No.” August says, his voice cruel and merciless. “You cum and I’ll fuck your ass raw.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. You try and think of all the parts of your body that hurt. Your head, shoulders, legs, the skin on your back rubbing against the carpet. But it doesn’t work. Your body is so warm, tingling, your skin feels alive and the pain is dull compared to the rapture you feel.

Your body is suddenly wrest from the floor. August withdraws from you and flips you onto your knees and violates you again. You feel August’s hand in your hair and he forces your face into the floor. You heard a thud next to your head, his foot is there, and he continues his assault, kneeling on one leg anchoring himself with the other.

You bite your hand to muffle your shouts, you don’t want to give August the satisfaction of hearing your pain or pleasure. You thought he was deep before, but now you feel every impact in your gut, your core uncomfortably full from his brutal jabs. You can’t stay on your knees, your legs too weak to withstand his punitive thrusts. August doesn’t care. He digs his fingers into your hips, holding you in place as he continues his ruthless assault.

Unable to stop it, you feel your release approach again. You try to deny it, but the savagery of August is too much. The feel of your bodies slaming together, the slapping of his balls against your clit, the sound of his grunts of exertion overwhelm you and you can’t stop yourself from whining, “Please, August. Please. I’m fucking begging you.”

You hear August’s malicious chuckle. “No, Pet.”

August seizes you by the nape, pulling you up to your knees and your back presses against his chest. Wrapping his hand around your neck, he holds you against his shoulder. His other hand moves over your breasts, kneading into them, squeezing them. His face is close to yours, you feel his ragged breath tickle your cheeks.

He starts whispering in your ear and he presses his rough hairy lip into you. “You fucking little bitch,” his voice was low, harsh and dripping with venom, but August can’t stop his desire from seeping through. “Who sent you to me? Who told you to whore yourself for me?” He pinches at your nipples, and you shudder against him writhing. His insults pushing you towards your climax as much as his touch.

“Was it the CIA?” he asks, sliding his hand down your belly to between your legs. Fear makes your heart skip, if he touched you there you would not be able to stop your orgasm. You try and pull away, but he is too strong.

“Did those useless government hacks, turn you into a fucking whore, or did you volunteer, Pet?” He slid his fingers over your slit, and one grazed your clit sending your core pulsing around his cock. You want to tell him he has it all wrong, backwards. He thinks he’s been caught, he doesn’t know he’s being recruited.

He slaps your clit with his palm, a quick flick of his wrists that shocks you and if August wasn’t holding you up, you would have doubled over in pain and ecstasy.

“Don’t fucking cum.” August orders, rubbing a calloused finger over your oversensitive clit. Then, he says, sadly and with regret, “You could have come to me, Pet. Told me. I would have protected you. I could have gotten you out.” His voice almost cracks as he adds, “We could have gotten out together. BE together.”

You want to tell him, you want that too. You didn’t mean to fall for him either, none of this was planned. His fingers dance over your hard nub, coaxing from you the orgasm he forbids. Frustration suddenly pours out of you. You fight him again, punching the arm he had wrapped around your waist, and between your legs.

“Why do you fight so hard, Pet?” he asks. Those simple words he said to you all those months ago rock you. It was his invitation to submit willingly rather than be pulled under by the force of his will. But it was different this time, it wasn’t just you at stake.

You beg again, “August…” It’s all you can say through your short gasping cries. You break out in sweat, the need in you was so strong it took everything you had to fight it.

“Answer my question and you can cum,” He says. You nod, vigorously, you don’t even feel shame at giving in so easily, you’re too far gone. He brings his face in front of yours. Your whole body is shaking under his touch as he draws your orgasm and confession out of you.

“Were you sent by the CIA?”

You shake your head, and whimper, “No.”

August looks into your eyes for a hint of a lie. When he can’t find one, he coos, “Good girl,” and you wriggle at his praise. He kisses you roughly, lips hard against yours. “You can cum now, Pet.”

With unrestrained cries, you finally allow the pressure in your core to grow. You feel your release roll over your contorting body. Your guttural shout signals you’re the arrival of your long denied ecstasy and tears streamed from your eyes as you succumb with immense relief.

August watched every second of your orgasm, his face studying yours as if to memorise every expression, until you were done and can’t hold yourself up anymore. He removes himself with a gentleness that was unexpected and he tenderly carries you to his room. Cradling your head against his chest, he kisses your forehead, muttering something you can’t catch and were too far gone to ask.

He lays you on your side, and you are so malleable and weak, you let him curl you into a ball before he leans over you. He lifts your chin and turns your head so you are looking at him. You give him a half smile, which he returns with a soft hum. His eyes go to your collar and a look of sadness crosses his face, a grief so intense you feel it too.

You don’t know what to say and neither does August. He does the only thing he knows how to do when he feels what some people call love. He fucks.

When August enters you this time it’s different. Although his thrusts are brutal and powerful, it’s not punishment. He is trying to make a connection, to see if there is something salvageable between you. He needs to know if he means anything to you. He drops his forehead onto yours, resting there while his eyes met yours. He holds your throat and his thumb plays with your thin golden collar.

“You’re still mine, Pet,” August says, firmly.

“Always yours,” you reply with certainty. And you were. But by the end of this night he would know he was yours too.

As if to seal the promise you made, August kisses you. His lips pry yours open and his gentle explorative tongue massages yours. When you kiss him back, you are surprised by the growl he makes in his throat. Feeling bold, you place a hand on his cheek as you kiss. He doesn’t pull away so you slide your other hand into his hair and you expect him to shake you off, like he did before. He allows it, and he slides his free arm around you, pulling your bodies together. The rhythm you find together is nothing like the primal fucking you two are used to. It seemed as though he was making love to you, as much as someone like August could.

You feel the warmth grow again and radiate from your core. August instinctively knows your close again and stops your kisses watch you again. “Come for me, my sweet girl,” he utters.

You fall apart. Your fist tightens in his hair, you tremble beneath him, while you call his name.

“Fuck,” he grunts while you fall over the edges, and he forces himself deep within you, splitting you, owning you as you feel him thicken and pulse, releasing his seed into your milking core. Then he breaks you by growling your name as he makes his final throes.

You’re both slick with sweat, but August doesn’t care and he brushes your face with kisses. He looks like he wants to say something, opening his mouth and closing it again without saying a word. He helps you get up and he walks you to his bathroom.

August runs you a bath, and he sits on the edge for a while, watches you while you bathe. He showers quickly before returning to his spot.

Finally, he speaks, but he looks away as he says it, and for the first time you see August doubt himself, “If not the Agency, then who?” He asks.

“We have no government affiliation,” you say.

He nods, “Why did they send you, was the plan always to use sex?”

“No, August,” you say honestly. “This was not part of the plan. I was only supposed to be assigned to you while I did my training. This assignment was last minute, I don’t even know how it happened.”

He turns his attention back to you and looks for the lie he believes he will find. When he doesn’t find it he asks, “Your aunt, was that a lie?”

“She’s officially missing,” you say. “Unofficially, she brought me into group.”

“Something doesn’t add up, Pet,” August says. “I’m don’t know anything that a hundred other agents don’t also know. What did they send you to find out?”

“You don’t get it. We don’t want to bring you down, we want to recruit you. I had to make sure you are who we think you are.”

You see a glimpse of understanding in August’s eyes. “Go on,” he prompts.

You watch him carefully as you explain, “My assignment was to find out if you were the one who wrote a certain manifesto making the rounds in certain circles.” He doesn’t blink. You smirk, realising he’s trying too hard to keep his face smooth. He is the one.

“And, am I?” he asks.

“You are,” you say moving down the bath. Unbelievably, knowing he wrote that poetic and chaotic brilliance made you hot again. “This operation is all wrong, too big for simple arms traders. You’re using the CIA to get the connections and resources you need.” You run your finger down August’s bare arm, tracing the ridges of his muscles and the slight protruding veins on his forearms. August watches you intently, trying to appear cold, but you see his breaths grow shallow and his jaw clench. “We have the resources to help a man like you,” You reach his hand, turn it palm up, and lay a kiss into it before holding it to your cheek. “’A man with vision’ Lane calls you.”

“Lane?” August says, he seems confused, and he should be.

“Yes, meet with Solomon Lane and you will get your new world August.” You take his hand off your cheek and fold down his fingers except for the middle one. You take him in your mouth curling your tongue around him, and sucking.

August can’t look away. Already thrown by being discovered, he is completely transfixed by your sudden seduction.

“How?” he breathes.

You open your mouth and show August his finger sliding down your tongue. You get out of the bath and stand in front of August. You move his finger down your body, between your breasts, over your belly and between your thighs. You slide his finger between your warm folds and you hear August groan as you rest him against your entrance.

You ask him, “Have you, ever heard of the Syndicate, Pet?”

End

Tag List

@henryobsessed @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @posiemax @nostalgicb-txh @moonlacebeam @anitababi @agniavateira @blakerogue @shadesofarrogance @mansaaay @stxlemate @wheretheriversrunintothesea @amberangel112 @madbaddic7ed @eldarwen333 @wolvesandhoundshowltogether

I have a feeling I missed someone, if I did, let me know!

#august walker #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #august walker x you #august walker x reader #august walker smut

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theunholygrails · 3 years

Text

Foolish Games Part 2

Masterlist

A/N: Introducing new characters and some drama! Percy is still sexy as ever :'(.

Warnings: BJ

I woke up to a door slamming so hard it joined the symphony of my pounding headache. I groaned, hoisting myself over the back of the couch to investigate to intrusion. A brunette head of long sweeping hair rushed through the foyer, barreling towards the kitchen. A familiar mop of black hair hurried after.

Reyna was speaking so fast in Spanish my brain scrambled to keep up. I noted lots of curse words followed by a series of sentences too fast I was surprised she even knew what she was saying. Percy was answering in slow measured words, probably fighting a hangover of equal measure. I ducked behind the back of the couch, reaching for my phone plugged in on the coffee table.

It was noon. 2% battery and a couple messages from friends. Nothing from my ex thank gods. Five from Annabeth being nosey. I opened my uber app, squinting in the sunlight breaking through the cream curtains. I managed to get my driver secured.

A door slammed and I winced, peaking to check that they were in another room. I did not immediately spot my dress in the chaotic. I grimaced remembering the midnight swim. When I sat up I finally noticed the white tshirt I wore and the basketball shorts. And then I went rigid remembering what happened after the swim.

“Motherfucker,” I whispered.

Now I really had to get out of this house. I checked the arrival time of my driver. Three minutes away. Great. I made my way on shaky knees to the large wooden front door. My keys were still in the collection dish. I grabbed them quietly and turned the door handle a fraction of an inch before another door slammed open and Reyna came barreling back into the foyer, brown eyes landing promptly on my guilty ass. Behind her, Percy pursed his lips into a thin line and raised both of his hands to lay on top of his head. His biceps strained nicely against the thin t shirt.

“The fuck is this?” Reyna whispered.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” I babbled.

“It’s just Noa, Rey. Gods,” Percy said.

“I can see that, Percy!” She snapped. I was glad her spear was not strapped across her back this morning. “Why is she sneaking out of my house in your clothes?”

“People were swimming last night. Her clothes got wet.”

“I’m sure the fuck they did.”

“Zeus, Rey! You ended it with me. Why does it even matter?”

“Because I still fucking love you! I’m sorry, okay?” She burst out crying and Percy instantly pulled her against his chest. The memory of being in those arms drove me out the door like a nest of hornets.

~~~~

“I’m just saying. You have nothing to feel sorry for,” Annabeth paused to sip her iced coffee. “Unless they get back together and then you sleep with him. But as of right now, you’re good. Trust me. Been on the Percy train. We’re still friends. You’ll get over it. Just a harmless rebound for both of you.”

I groaned, laying my chin on the cool metal table parked outside our favorite coffee shop positioned between our New York apartments. Just two Manhattan women enjoying their Sunday afternoon. The air was cooling as fall neared. I pulled my baseball cap closer to the top of my sunglasses.

“Should I call him?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Let him deal with his relationship drama. Reyna is a lot to deal with. Still nothing from fuckface?”

“Nope and that’s fine.”

“Good for you. We will hydrate you, get you a good dinner, hit the gym before work in the morning and then get back on our bad bitch mental track. Agreed?”

~~~~

“Good Monday, yogis,” I chirped from my desk at the corner of my studio.

The third class was beginning to trickle in and I was settling into my rhythm. Hot yoga was next and hopefully I would sweat out all the negativity I’d allowed lately. I was in the middle of emailing back a potential client when someone rapped at the wood of my desk. I glanced up to a blonde male who waved gently.

“Heya, sansei Noa,” he said.

“That’s karate. Can I help you?”

“Do you do trial classes?”

I hit send on my email and closed my laptop. The guy was built like a poser with the defined muscles and chiseled jaw but his voice was soft and tempered. He was clean shaven and dressed like a basic gym bro.

“Normally you have to schedule them beforehand because of class size,” I gave my standard answer.

“Right, my bad. Sorry. I was just passing by the front and it looked like the kind of place I needed right now. Can I go ahead and pick a date then?”

I was staring too long into his pale blue eyes, honed in on the polite response. A nice change from the daily demanding consumers. “You know what? Ive got space right now if you like? Have you ever done hot yoga?”

A brilliant white smile showcasing sharp canines. “My favorite.”

“Perfect. I just need a name, number and email to get you a file started.”

He leaned large hands on my desk. “It’s Luke Castellan.”

Before he could give the contact information, I cut him off. “Wait. I know you.” His tanned skin paled significantly.

“I…”

“You’re supposed to be dead!” I blurted out.

His eyes skated around the room and he leaned in closer. “That’s not supposed to be public knowledge. I assume you’re a demigod?”

“Luke, you trained me. We took fucking sculpting together. The Apollo table was right next to the Hermes one for fuck’s sake.”

He winced. I heard a murmuring from the rest of my class I was disturbing with my volume. I collected my shock finally. “Take a seat if you want. We should talk after class. I need to start.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry Noa.”

I waved him off and walked over to my yoga mat. I sat cross legged and drew in an even breath to smooth out my emotions.

It was a slow 30 minute class. Each pose and movement dragged on. Finally, I dismissed the group and nodded Luke outside. He was waiting on the bench outside of the studio I split renting with a few other instructors. I sat next to him, wiping sweat from my face with the towel slung over my pink sports bra.

“Alright, talk,” I said.

“Not much to say. I was given a second chance at my hearing. Here I am. Starting over.” A shrug of well-defined shoulders. The muscles flexed beneath his gleaming sweat. His red tank top stuck to his chest and stomach. “I wish I remembered you, truly. That time is such a blur in my life.”

“It’s ok. You were a lot older than me and to be honest I had a massive crush on you so I probably hid most of the time.”

A surprised smile slipped across his lips. “I’m assuming the betrayal helped you get over that?”

I laughed outloud, slapping his knee. “No shit! So where are you staying these days?”

“Just around the corner actually. Got a job at the local gym.”

“Yeah I bet the fuck you did.” I squeezed his forearm between both of my hands. I wanted to roll my eyes at me falling back into my school girl giddy at him. Betrayal of the gods aside. He was even more gorgeous than ever. The scar down his face gave him a dark sexy vibe. Like a bad boy even though he claimed he was rehabbing himself now.

“So how, did you feel about the class?”

“I mean, I’d like to sign up for it a couple times a week, that’s for sure. And I’d like to take you out to dinner to make up for not remembering a beauty like you.”

I almost bit my cheek biting out the response of “Yes!”

“You’ve got my number,” he said, chuckling quietly. “I’ve got to get to work.” He shouldered his gym bag and excused himself.

The bike back to my apartment was spent reliving my tween fantasies about bad boy Luke. I opened my apartment door and screeched seeing a man sitting at my kitchen counter. Percy turned to face me.

“You know you live in New York? You should really lock that.”

“It was!” I snapped.

A quick grin. “Yeah. But it was easy to break into.”

I dropped my bag onto the floor and brushed past him to get a protein shake from the fridge. “I have to shower and get prepared for my night classes.” I told him.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t either.”

He paused, studying my face in the shitty lighting of the single bulb hanging between us over the counter. “Are we good, Noa?”

“Of course. What’s a little head between friends?”

“Okay…I can’t read you. Can you not play tough just for a minute?”

I chugged the shake and set the bottle down between us. I leaned my arms on the chilled counter, bun knocking against the light. “Honestly, Percy. I’m fine. We are good.”

“Reyna moved back in.”

“You’re engaged again?”

I drank from the empty bottle to give myself something to do. He watched me with those green eyes. He’d known me for far too long. He was nearly impossible to deceive, but I was determined today. The fact that I had dreamt of fucking him two consecutive nights was irrelevant if he was off the table. Even if his lips did look incredibly juicy tonight. Even if they had done near illicit things to me just nights ago.

“I don’t know. She said she wanted to work on things. And it’s her dad’s house, so I can’t ask her to go and I don’t want to go to my mom’s and admit defeat.”

“You know you could stay here, Perc.”

He worked his jaw silently, then rubbed his hands over his face. “Thanks. I do know. Even if we aren’t officially back together, I think we should work on it…” he trailed off.

“And not tell her about you eating me out?” I leaned closer because I was mean to both him and myself. Because I knew this top combined with this angle gave him a simple opportunity. And he took it.

His tongue slid out between his lips as his eyes flicked down, stayed, then dragged deliberately back up. “Probably not,” he agreed.

For a long moment neither of us said anything. He had more to lose now than me. We were no longer on equal playing fields. So, I left the ball in his court. “I’m going to go shower.”

I was done washing in the first ten minutes. The second ten was giving him a little wiggle room to decide. I had my hand on the faucet to cut off the water that was beginning to go cold when I heard the door creak open. I watched through the fogged glass, catching a hold of my breath. I watched as he tugged his shirt off. My stomach flipped over itself when he reached for his jeans. What had I done?

The opening door let in a rush of cool air, perking my skin to attention. My eyes raked unapologetically over his naked, aroused body. His dark hair quickly slicked against his stubble covered jaw. His eyes were no longer the sea green but murky like the deep water of the ocean.

“Hey,” he said quietly, cautiously.

“Hey,” I giggled, reaching out to touch his rough jaw. He winced, catching my hand with his. “We probably shouldn’t kiss again.”

“Sure, whatever you want, Percy. What can I do to you?”

He groaned, turning his mouth into my palm, scraping teeth against the vulnerable skin. “Touch me,” he said.

My free hand instantly planted against his chest, scraping at the muscle. His eyes fluttered closed, head tilting back to expose his throat. I slid my other hand into his thick hair, tugging it tightly between my fingers and pulling to grant myself more access to the strong column of his neck. I bit it first, backing him into the tiled wall when he shuddered. I kissed over the reddening skin and moved my hands to his flat stomach, feeling the shuddered breaths beneath my touch.

“Like this?” I asked.

His reply was unintelligible. I kissed down his chest, moving my hand lower still as I went. When my fingers brushed over the v-line of his hips, I shifted my route away from the center and to his thighs. An annoyed grunt escaped his lips. “Hush,” I scolded, getting my knees under me. The now cold water was hitting the back of my neck and flowing down my body. I placed my hands on the inside of both his thighs, trailing them upwards and upwards until he nearly contorted when I gripped him. He let out a scandalous string of curses that quickly turned to moaning silence when I took him into my mouth.

He unraveled in minutes and I let him cum all over the breasts I had teased him with earlier. I rose in front of him, my own rosy cheeks mirroring his. “Now we’re even.”

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