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yandere-daydreams · 2 months

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Title: In The Serpent's Den.

Pairing: Yandere!Suguru x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 4.7k.

TW: Non/Con, Hybrid AU, AFAB!Reader, Cobra!Suguru, Rabbit!Reader, Biting, Aphrodisiacs, Heat Cycles, Oviposition, Manipulation, Biting, Breeding Kinks, and Predator/Prey Dynamics.

“It’s time to come out, little rabbit.”

His tone was sickly sweet, lulled into something saccharine and tempting, only slightly distorted by the uncommon shape of his tongue. Despite his melodic coaxing, you curled further into yourself – pulling your thighs flush to your chest and burying your knees in your face, doing your best not to breathe, not to cry, not to make a sound. The temptation to uncurl yourself entirely and run, run, run until you found somewhere small and dark and safe gnawed on the back of your mind, but it never would’ve worked. You were in Suguru’s enclosure, Suguru’s territory, and there was nowhere to run where he wouldn’t be able to follow.

“I’m losing my patience, little rabbit. If you come out now, I promise I’ll try to hold myself back.”

Why was he even looking for you? It’d been weeks since his eccentric, white-haired owner forced you into the sprawling greenhouse that made up Suguru’s enclosure, and he’d never paid you a second glance. You did your best to avoid him, to make sure you never crossed his path while he was prowling for a meal. You could count the number of times he’d acknowledged you on a single hand, and he’d never so much as lunged at you. You couldn’t imagine why he’d decided you’d make a good meal now, after weeks of relatively peaceful cohabitation. Maybe he’d gotten tired of keeping you around, of having to share his territory with another hybrid – one so far below him on the food chain. Maybe, this was just the first time he’d gotten hungry enough to hunt you down.

You heard branches shift, twigs break, and instantly, all of your thoughts (rational and otherwise) were replaced with a frantic, buzzing static. “You’re only making this worse for yourself,” Suguru went on, and his voice was too loud, too close. You’d tucked yourself into the densest patch of foliage you could find, but your white ears and cottony tail stood out like blood on snow against the vivid greens and blacks of the flora. Suddenly, trying to hide at all felt stupid. Rabbits weren’t supposed to hide. Rabbits were supposed to die and get eaten by the big, mean snakes who preyed on them. “I’m going to find you, and when I do, you’re only going to be sorry you made me wait as long as I have.”

You could hear the dull drag of scales moving over rough stone, the ebbing ‘hiss’ that formed a slight lisp at the end of each sentence. You raised your head just far enough to see a large, black shape move in front of you, and something buried deep inside of you cracked and spilled open.

Running wasn’t a choice – it was the only option. You were on your feet in a second, sprinting deeper into the greenhouse in another. The direction didn’t matter. As long as you got away from him, nothing else mattered.

Blindly, you vaulted over fallen branches and overgrown roots, rotting leaf litter threatening to steal your balance as you veered away from the beaten path and threw yourself into the tangled wilderness. If Suguru was chasing you, you couldn’t hear him – the world little more than a blur of color and your own racing pulse. You just needed to find somewhere better to hide, somewhere he’d forgotten. A tunnel, or a tree hollow, or a cave dark enough to hide your snowy pelt from prying eyes. You just needed to—

Your trek came to an abrupt end as your collided with a pane of thick, emerald-tinted glass and were sent crashing to the ground. It took you a second to process what you’d run into – the wall of the greenhouse, the edge of Suguru’s enclosure – and another to remember that you weren’t in the wilderness, anymore, that you wouldn’t find a tunnel or a cave or anywhere else to hide that hadn’t been created deliberately to trick animals like you into to think they were safe. You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so desperate. You might’ve gone looking for Suguru yourself, if you hadn’t been too scared to remember what it meant to be caged.

Fighting back tears, you started to scramble onto your feet, but it was already too late. There was no sound, no warning, just a sudden pressure against your back and an agonizing pain burrowed into the side of your throat. His fangs were planted in your neck before you could so much as scream, his strong tail wrapped around your legs and his arms crossed over your midriff, keeping your body locked against his as he pinned you to the ground. You expected his venom to burn, to be able to feel death as it flooded into your veins, but instead, there was only a slight numbing sensation around the point of insertion, a distant fog over your senses that might’ve just been your own fading adrenaline. If anything, you felt…

You felt warm.

Suguru took his time pulling away, his ribbon-like tongue flickering over the skin of your throat before he lifted his head. You weren’t facing him, one of your cheeks pressed into the dirt, but you could just barely see him out of the corner of your eye, make out the dark hair tucked behind his shoulders, the pitch-black scales littered over his face, his chest. You knew he was a snake, but you thought you might’ve heard his owner call him something else, once or twice. A ‘cobra’, maybe, but you’d never met a cobra before. You felt safer thinking of him as a snake.

He opened his mouth, but you were already babbling. Trying not to cry had been useless. Tears poured down your cheeks unabashedly, blurring your vision and making it that much harder to spit something coherent out. “P-please don’t eat me – I’m really small for a rabbit, and I promise I won’t taste very good, and I—”

“Quiet, little rabbit.” You’d been wrong, before. You didn’t feel warm, no, you felt hot – something deep inside of you beginning to smolder at the sound of his voice. Immediately, you shut your mouth, and he rewarded you with a raspy chuckle. “You thought I was going to… to eat you?” You nodded stiltedly, and he went on. “Ah, no wonder you were so afraid. And here I thought my timid little bunny just didn’t like me very much.”

“…’m sorry.” You must’ve run farther than you realized. A few minutes of sprinting shouldn’t have left you this breathless, this dazed. “You… You aren’t going to eat me?”

“No, bunny. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“But, you bit—”

“I gave you a present.” Another dry chuckle, his tongue flitting over the back of your neck. “Just a little something to make sure you wouldn’t be so shy. You should already be feeling better.”

You weren’t sure that you felt better, but you didn’t feel scared, either. A different feeling had taken the place of your fear – the sensation viscous and churning and prone sending pangs of dull, burning pain to the pit of your stomach. You had to make a conscious effort to move your lips, and even then, it was hard to get any sound past your suddenly dry throat. Suguru waited patiently, seemingly more than happy to watch you stumble over your own tongue. “It’s really warm,” you managed, eventually. “I think I might be… tired?”

“Oh, of course. I forgot how easy it is for prey animals to wear themselves out. I’ll take you back to my nest, where you’ll be able to rest safely.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded eagerly. Safe. You wanted to be safe. You couldn’t remember what you needed to be safe from anymore, though.

He uncurled, but didn’t pull away from you. Rather, your smaller body was pulled against his broad chest as he took you in his arms and carried you through the greenhouse. His destination was a raised loft – set above the wild foliage of his enclosure, accessible only by a sparsely wrung ladder you never would’ve had a hope of climbing on your own. His nest wasn’t at all like a rabbit’s nest, either. Rather than a deep, dark tunnel padded with fur and leaves, he’d taken you to a mess of tangled roots and woven blankets, all piled onto one another to form a box-like bed. Your form, limper than you would’ve liked it to be, was laid on a relatively soft patch, and Suguru positioned himself above you; upper body supported by his forearms, his never-ending tail taking up whatever space you left unoccupied. You wanted to sleep, to do what he said you should, but he was still touching you – dragging a single, clawed finger down your chest and over your midriff, only pausing at your waist to draw slow, swirling patterns into your hip. “My venom has a unique side-effect, you know,” he muttered, his voice low and soothing, the tapered tip of his tail lashing from side to side as he spoke. “A full dose would be fatal. It’d be fast, too – a few seconds of screaming, a few seconds of twitching, and then—” He paused, clicked his tongue. “—dead, just like that. It’s a little anti-climactic, to be honest.”

Something deep inside of you began to throb. You shrunk into yourself, trying to relieve the pulsing ache, but Suguru mistook your agony for fear. “In controlled portions,” he continued, splaying his open palm over your hip. “The symptoms are much more pronounced. Humans tend to get all feverish and clumsy, but hybrids—”

Again, he paused. His hand drifted lower – first to your thigh, then your cunt. You didn’t realize you were dripping until his cold fingertips skirted over your slit, gathering up the slick already staining the inside of your thighs.

“Hybrids go into heat.”

A cold wave of dread washed over you, and Suguru’s smile widened.

“…heat?”

“Heat, little rabbit.”

His hand lingered on your pussy, two of his massive fingers splitting apart your lips and making room for his tongue to lap gingerly over your entrance. The sensation was strange – not good and not bad, a little ticklish – but your hips bucked as it flickered over your clit. You knew better than to get so close to a snake’s mouth, but you couldn’t seem to move, to think about anything but getting closer, closer to anything that could touch and poke and lick you. “Is heat—” You started, only to be cut off by a cracked whimper as the throbbing in your core intensified. “Is it supposed to hurt?”

“Only for a while.” His deep voice reverberated against your cunt, and you couldn’t stop yourself; attempting to rock your hips against his mouth with a high-pitched whine. It was embarrassing to be so needy, so desperate, but Suguru didn’t seem to mind, only ghosting his lips over the inside of your thigh as he pushed you back down. “But, you’ll need a mate to help you through it. Do you want a mate?”

“Y-Yes! Mate!” You’d never felt this empty, before. It was a little like hunger, but not as jagged, not as desolate. It was more of an absence than anything more tangible; a total and complete vacancy that had to be filled. You tried to roll onto your stomach, to scramble onto your hands and knees and present yourself, but Suguru held you in place with minimal effort. Your protest came in the form of a drawn-out whine, a waving sound Suguru mocked with a low coo and an airy laugh. “Please, please, it hurts, Suguru, I can’t— I need—”

“You need cock,” he finished, his tone one of pure, undeniable satisfaction. With a sigh, he picked himself up, straightening his back and towering above you. You felt saliva pool at the bottom of your mouth as the junction between his upper body and his tail came into view – pale skin slowly giving way to ebony scales, the sculpted muscle of his chest meeting the plated armor below his hips. His hand fell away from you, but you couldn’t mourn the loss of contact, not when your attention was so fixated on the thin, almost invisible slit just below his pubic bone. His fingertips slipped shallowly inside of it, and his gaze shifted back to you. “Come, little bunny. I think you’ve earned another treat.”

The encouragement was appreciated, but unnecessary. You were already crawling towards him, your limbs uncooperative and your movements jolting but your resolve absolute. There was still a throbbing emptiness inside of you, getting worse and more demanding with each neglectful second, but all you could think about was settling onto your knees in front of Suguru and drooling at the sight of his fluttering slit. You weren’t sure what to do, whether to use your hands or your mouth, but Suguru didn’t leave much time for indecision. His free hand found its way to the back of your head, nudging you forward until your mouth was pressed against his slit, just starting to leak thick trails of translucent slick over his dark scales. Your tongue darted past your lips hesitantly, at first, but your trepidation didn’t last very long. It couldn’t, not when you had a hollow pit inside of you still begging to be filled.

Suguru’s fingers carded through your hair as you lapped and sucked at his slit. The taste was mildly acidic, but surprisingly sweet – your eyes quickly falling shut as you sank into a pattern of wet sounds and strange textures and point claws grazing over your scalp, scratching at your ears. Throaty moans (the loudest noise you would ever hear Suguru make, in hindsight) and mumbled praise trickled past his lips as you worked, letting you know that he liked the way you were curling your tongue, that the spongy spot you could just barely reach inside of him was particularly sensitive. It wasn’t long before a mix of your saliva and his arousal dripped past the corners of your mouth, before the end of his tail was lashing violently within the confines of his nest. Maybe Suguru was in heat, too. You hoped he was. You didn’t want to be the only one in so much pain.

You felt the tapered tip of something smooth and stiff against your tongue, and Suguru buckled forward, a ragged gasp tearing past his lips as he took your head in both hands and pressed you flush against his abdomen. Confused and panicked, you tried to pull away, but his grip was iron-clad and it was all you could do to whimper, to sit there helplessly while something filled your mouth – hard and ridged and hot enough to burn. Cock, the pulsing in your core filled in, but it couldn’t be. Suguru had made it sound like something you needed, something you were supposed to want, but you didn’t like the way the blunt head prodded at the back of your throat, the way the ridged underside ground against your tongue. For the first time since he’d caught you, your instincts agreed with your better judgement, both urging you to get away, to run, to put distance between yourself and this newfound threat.

Your pussy, though, couldn’t seem to do anything but chant mate, mate, mate.

You could feel something else, too – not in your mouth, but pressing into your chin, your throat. Reflexively, your hands shot up, wrapping around the thick intruder, and this time, Suguru let go of you entirely, biting back a half-choked groan as he pushed you away, leaving you sprawled out and alone in the center of his nest. The hollowness inside of you was nearly unbearable, and rubbing your thighs together only seemed to make it worse. You tried to look to Suguru, to ask him to do something, but instead, your eyes caught on the long, pale appendage pressed into his lower stomach. His cock. Or, his cocks, you guessed.

You hadn’t expected there to be two of them.

You hadn’t expected them to be so big, either. Even at a distance, it was clear they weren’t meant for a rabbit. Just one would’ve been more than you could handle – as long as your forearm, as thick as your wrist, the end tapered to a steep point but the base absolutely massive before they disappeared into his slit. The color was strange, too – the tip flushed a dull pink while the base was nearly as dark as his scales, creating an ombre that might’ve been pretty, if you weren’t so terrified. You couldn’t see any veins, but both were sculpted with pronounced, perfectly spaced ridges. You couldn’t imagine having something like that inside of you, but you couldn’t imagine not having anything inside of you, either.

You couldn’t be sure how long you spent staring up at him, trying to wrap your head around his size, trying to decide if you’d rather be torn apart by his cock or your own increasingly demanding needs. In the end, it wasn’t really your choice to make. His eyes darted from your clenched thighs to your heaving chest to yours, wide and watery, and a grin found its way back to his lips. For some reason, his smile wasn’t as comforting as it’d been, the first time you saw it. “I’m sorry, little rabbit. Did I startle you?” The tenderness in his voice was almost cloying. You didn’t move, didn’t respond, but he didn’t seem to need you to. “I didn’t mean to. Why don’t you spread your legs nice n’ wide for me, and I’ll make it up to you?”

Your gaze fell back to his cocks. One of his fists had wrapped around both, pumping idly while he stood above you. “Are those supposed to…?” You trailed off, shrinking into yourself. Suguru hummed, and you took it as confirmation. “But you’ll only use one, right? I don’t think I can— I mean, it won’t fit if you—”

“Really? I could’ve sworn you were begging to be fucked properly just a few minutes ago.” You stiffened, but he only laughed. “Fine, fine. If that’s what you think you want, I’ll only use one.”

You didn’t think you could trust him, but you could feel yourself getting hot, again, a haze forming over your mind. You could leave when he was finished, you figured, even if you weren’t entirely sure how to get out of his nest, or where to go once you’d escaped back into the greenhouse. After you got over your— your heat.

Hesitantly, you started to listen to the negging mantra still playing in the back of your mind, to obey the near-deafening voice in the back of your head urging you to get on your hands and knees and make him fuck you, but Suguru must’ve decided you weren’t moving fast enough. His tail shifted underneath you, a thick coil catching your side and leaving you bent over one of the thicker lengths, your stomach pressed into his cool scales and your feet barely able to reach the tangled roots of his nest. You scrambled for purchase, but Suguru was there to steady you – his hands finding your hips, his cocks pressing into your ass. The calloused pads of his fingertips pressed into your waist as he aligned one of his cocks – the upper one, you thought, just a little thicker than its twin – with your entrance. He was kind enough to give you a long, slow second to breathe before his hips rutted forward and he inside of you.

Immediately, it felt wrong.

You’d been right when you decided he was too big for you. He was only half-sheathed, and yet, the tip of his cock pressed into the floor of your cervix, the head of his cock alone enough to stretch your pussy as far as it could go. Thankfully, he didn’t try to force himself deeper, but feeling the smooth ridges of rub against the walls of your pussy as he pulled back wasn’t much better. Still, your cunt clenched around him eagerly, doing its best to suck him in despite your physical limitations. Suguru, of course, seemed more than happy to indulge you. His thrusts were slow and lethargic, as gentle as they could’ve been but still forceful enough to leave you pinned to the curve of his tail. You weren’t in control of your body, anymore. As he rolled his hips against your ass, you ground back against him, your greedy cunt never warm enough, never wet enough, never full enough. You tried to dig your blunt claws into his tail, to ground yourself, but it was a futile effort; a limping dear attempting to evade a wolf who’d already tasted its blood. Suguru’s only response was a stifled groan, a new roughness to the way he fucked into you. You felt his chest against your back as he bent at the waist, draping himself over you, his dark hair falling from his shoulder and replacing chunks of your vision with a curtain of thick, endless black. It didn’t matter. A fresh wave of tears would’ve left you just as helpless, not that Suguru seemed to mind the way you sniffled and sobbed between moans.

“They say— fuck, you know what they say about rabbits, don’t you, bunny?” His voice was barely audible, but it seemed to echo on and on and on in your overly sensitive ears. His cock ground against something softened and vulnerable inside of you and your back arched, your pussy clenching impossibly tighter around him. “That’s it,” Suguru encouraged, as you tried to pry yourself away from his freezing tail and chase the gentle warmth of his chest. “They say bunnies make the best sluts. Knock them up once, and they’ll never stop begging for it.”

Kits. A strong mate. A safe nest. The thought alone had you crying out for nothing, your convulsions growing that much more erratic, and Suguru chuckled in-turn. “Like that? Want me to make you into my little mate-whore?”

“Want it, please, w-want it so bad.” It was all you could do to force yourself to speak, to spit something out through the daze of lust and exhaustion and total, unrelenting fullness. You’d never been more sure of anything than you were in that moment, never knew something as deeply as you knew that you wanted Suguru’s kits inside of you. “Please, wanna be you mate, wanna—Suguru—!”

One more thrust, one more scape of his sleek scales against your clit, and you were coming undone around his cock in jolting, erratic convulsions. Suguru let out a ragged grunt and straightened his back, but the distance was short-lived. Strong arms snaked under your knees, spreading your legs and hauling you up to his height. Your back remained pressed against his chest as he pulled out of you entirely and slammed back in. Even through the overstimulation, the wrongness hit you immediately. His cock was too big, too thick, and—

And he was inside of you.

Completely inside of you.

You forced yourself to open your eyes, letting your head fall forward limply. The shock was minimal, but still devastating – both of Suguru’s cocks buried inside of you to their pitch-black bases, their outlines just barely visible against the plush flesh of your lower stomach. “You—You promised you wouldn’t—”

His face was buried in the dip of your shoulder, his lips parted as panted against you. You felt his teeth catch on your skin before sinking into you, had time to process the pure heat of his venom seeping into your veins. Instantly, anything you might’ve said died on your tongue, your mind going utterly, entirely blank save for a single thought: mate.

Your mouth fell open, your thighs spreading that much farther. Suguru pressed a lingering, open-mouthed kiss into the injection site, then pulled away, grinning wildly. “A few drops, and you’ll want everything I have to give you,” he muttered. “That’s better, isn’t it, bunny?”

Much better. You could feel something swelling at the base of his cock, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge anything other than the utter bliss as a small, round shape was milked up the length of his cock and emptied into your core. Kits, you thought, and did your best to settle onto his twin cocks, to hold still as another egg was forced through your tight pussy. You stopped trying to count after the fourth – giving in completely to the shuddering, splintering euphoria every new member of your little family brought you. By the time the final egg was safe and snug inside of you, you were limp, twitching, and so full, it was hard to imagine ever feeling empty again.

As the last aftershocks started to fade, Suguru sucked in a stilted gasp and pulled you flush against his chest. You felt his second cock twitch once, then twice inside of you before something warm and thick flooded into your pussy. You whined miserably as he pulled out of you, but he didn’t stay gone for very long. Your pliable body was turned around in his arms, his cocks slid back into your leaking cunt as he carefully lowered himself onto the floor of his nest – your body laid on top of his. You strung your arms around his neck and pressed yourself against his chest, closing your eyes and giving in to your well-earned exhaustion.

You lasted just long enough to hear him mutter something about mates and clutches before your consciousness faded entirely and your mind went mercifully, blissfully silent.

Hours later, you woke up to the sound of a low, long whistle. “Really did a number on the poor thing, huh, Suguru?”

It took you a second to blink your eyes open, to raise your head and glance toward the man standing at the top of the ladder that led to Suguru’s nest, and another to recognize him as Suguru’s owner. His white hair was in a state of disarray, his eyes hidden behind circles of tinted glass, and for some reason, he was looking at you. You shrunk further into Suguru, but he only laughed – the noise loud and piercing to your foggy senses.

Suguru’s cocks were no longer inside of you, the flushed tips just barely visible at the base of his slit. You were still on his chest, and his arms were wrapped around your waist, his hold loose but possessive. There was a small bump over your lower stomach, and you weren’t sure whether to grimace or beam at the feeling of Suguru’s eggs shifting inside of you with every little movement. He was already awake – had been for some time, judging by the unimpressed scowl pressed into his lips. Something sharp and icy lodged itself into your chest, but his glare was directed towards his owner, not you, and the very tip of his tail curled around your ankle protectively as his owner stepped into his nest.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to walk into a serpent’s den?”

“I don’t think it counts if I own the den.” He straddled the bulk of Suguru’s tail, then gestured to you. “Turn the pretty baby around. I wanna see the damage.”

You shook your head vehemently, clinging to Suguru’s neck, but his own response was an exasperated sigh, a fleeting hiss to your cheek as he flipped you over; leaving you slayed across his chest and exposed to his owner’s prying gaze. “Five minutes,” he said, as his owner shrugged the waistband of his pants down just far enough to free his cock, already half-hard, already enough to send a bolt of pure dread from your heart to the pit of your stomach. “I don’t want your scent on my mate.”

You opened your mouth, ready to whine that you were sore, that you were tired, that you didn’t want anyone but Suguru and your kits inside of you, but the words withered into nothing on your tongue as his owner eased himself into your dripping pussy, as Suguru caught you by the chin and pulled you into a shallow, lingering kiss – the points of his fangs just barely scraping over your bottom lip. Looking back on it, it had been silly to ever worry that he’d eat you.

You should’ve been worried that he wouldn’t.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #hybrid au #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #yandere jjk #jjk imagines #yandere geto suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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dead-girl-tells-stories · 7 months

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DP x DC prompt:

Daniel was seething. It's been a year since he left the league and they've already found him. Well, it was his mother who found him. Not that that was any better but at least it wasn't Grandfather.

It also shouldn't have taken him so long to dispose of those soldiers. They weren't even that capable. Far below his level and yet he struggled. He needed to resume his training soon or else he would become rusty.

He cursed himself for getting too comfortable with civilian life. Not that his life was comfortable, far from actually.

He had been adopted by a pair of mad scientist with no concept of lab safety; and for all the intelligence they had, they couldn't fathom how to properly take care of a child, leaving their daughter to take care of herself and now her newly adopted sibling!

He sighed. He was starting to get angry. He couldn't afford to get angry. Especially not at Jazz. She was only two years older than him and was doing her best. She's also the only good thing in his life right now meaning that he had to cherish her, not break her. (He wouldn't be like his brother)

His mind stayed on Jazz for a while before immediately increasing his speed. He really needed to resume his training. How could he be so slack to forget such a possibility! Daniel desperately hoped that his sister Jazz was okay and that they wouldn't dare.

Entering through his bedroom window he rushed straight to Jazz's bedroom. It was open. She wasn't there.

Daniel started to panic when he heard a muffed scream coming from downstairs. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen.

In all honesty Daniel expected the worse. To see his sister Jazz dead on the floor, thick red gushing from her neck, the scent of blood in the air. And there was blood, it just wasn't her's.

Daniel always prided himself on having a vivid imagination. It was a great way to escape after an especially hard training session with his brother. But he would have never imagined this.

In the small, laughably suburban kitchen of the Fenton household was a sight to behold. In the air were two mangled bodies, unidentifiable if not for the league's emblem still visible on one of them. And on the wall was a splatter, a rather big one. It wasn't blood. It was too dark to be. But whatever it was was very unlucky.

In the center of the kitchen was Jazz. Her arms were outstretched, burning sigils rotating at the end of each palm. Her eyes glowed a bright icy blue.

Upon noticing him everything stopped. She looked fearful. Tears threatening to come forth.

"Wait I can explain, just don't tell mom or dad! Please!"

Daniel, still a bit shocked but not as much, simply walked into the kitchen towards the cupboard. Taking out a clean towel he unsheathed he sword and began to clean it.

He looked over his shoulder towards Jazz. She didn't look as scared but her eyes still held some fear. So he spoke, making sure the still bloody sword was in veiw.

"I won't tell if you don't." He flashed a grin his tiny fangs peaking out.

Jazz sighed as in the weight of the world was lifted off of her. She looked at him and smiled.

"Mom and Dad aren't going to be back for a while. Wanna help me clean up?"

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mingwrites · 12 days

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ateez as incubi

seonghwa ~ in your sleep, you had the most vivid and pleasurable dream of your life. you had a mysterious man between your legs, face buried in your pussy, clit between his lips. upon waking up, the fantasy didn’t end. you stirred hazily, moaning at the imagined sensation in your clit. it became a little too vivid, however, when you felt a long tongue slither inside of you. you looked down, seeing that the man was real, and he was still working your pussy dutifully. you knew you should have felt scared, but somehow the only thing you said was, “don’t stop.” this caused the man to chuckle against you. “don’t you worry, doll,” he said, “you’re so delicious, i’ll never get enough.”

hongjoong ~ when you awoke from your restless sleep, you had tears running down your cheeks. there was a sheen of sweat across your body and a dull throbbing between you legs. at first everything was hazy and confusing, but then you heard your demon’s voice break the silence of the night and it all came together. “what’s wrong, little baby?” he mocked from your bedside where he pervertedly observed your plight. “do you need me so bad? these fingers, this dick? tell me how much you need me.”

yunho ~ you woke up to your walls being stretched open by something ice cold. you realized it didn’t hurt because you were already soaking wet somehow. then you realized the handsome man slowly materializing on top of you, eyes locked on yours, hips sliding carefully closer. you groaned as he filled you up entirely, hands moving with a mind of their own as they reached to hold onto the man’s shoulders. “it’s so big,” you moaned. the man smirked, hips beginning to fuck in and out of you. “you know, i can make it even bigger, if you think this little pussy can handle it.”

yeosang ~ you were grinding against your mattress, a rhythmic flow of moans and whimpers echoing in your room as you dreamt of yeosang. in your dream, he was all over you - tongue down your throat, face in your pussy, and dick pounding into your soaking heat. “there you go,” dream yeosang whispered, “make yourself feel good, my darling.” your eyes slowly opened and for a moment you were utterly disappointed about losing your dream. that was, until you realized yeosang was lying right beside you, urging you on further, “don’t stop, baby, i want to see you make yourself cum.”

san ~ you opened your eyes when you heard a familiar voice filling your bedroom with sweet, soothing melodies. “sannie?” you called, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. “good morning, sweetheart,” he smiled cheerfully. you smiled in return, but groaned when you felt a throbbing ache in your clit. “it hurts again,” you said. that pain always seemed to return when san stopped by to visit. “i know, angel,” he cooed, placing his icy cold hands on your thighs and rubbing them gently. “do you need sannie to take care of it for you?”

mingi ~ “get up,” a deep voice commanded, awaking you from your dreams. you shot up and scanned your bedroom for intruders. sure enough, he was there staring down at you, and he was mad. “mingi?” you said softly. “what’s wro-” he cut you off: “where have you been for the last week?” your heart sank. he was really mad. it struck no fear in you, just stirred up butterflies in your stomach. “i-i was on vacation, i’m sorry i forgot to tell you.” mingi scoffed. “vacation… you’ve been naughty for the last time, do you understand?” you couldn’t hold your smile back, thrilled for what mingi might have in store for your punishment.

wooyoung ~ the last thing you expected to see when you first opened your eyes was a dick inches from your face. but that’s what you got, and you weren’t complaining. “suck it,” wooyoung demanded. having just woken up, you were a little slow to register what was going on. getting impatient, wooyoung reached out to stroke your jaw, thumb landing on your chin and gently pushing your mouth open. “i said suck it for me, baby.”

jongho ~ you awoke when you heard someone calling your name in a singsong voice. you looked around your room expecting to see him there, but he wasn’t. “jongho?” you whispered. suddenly, there was a strong hand wrapped around your throat, pressing gently on your airway. you grabbed his wrist, and then he became visible. jongho was floating just above your mattress, staring intensely into your wide eyes. he lowered himself so he was straddling you and strengthened his grip around your neck. “please,” he scoffed, “don’t look so scared. i can smell how wet you are from here.”

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 13 days

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Toothache

How does one go "You're Too Sweet For Me" to "My Baby's Sweet As Can Be"?

Synopsis: Simon Riley finds himself stuck in a situation, growing feelings for his roommate who's so annoyingly caring, domestic, sweet and too good for him. What happens when he let's himself indulge in the sweetness rather than cage himself in the bitter life he's been told is the only one he's deserving of and the only life he's known?

Apologies to this mess of a lyricfic, I couldn't help it even though this was supposed to be a relationship analysis..

MEN WRITTEN BY ANA HUANG ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME. Alright back to our original programmed schedule with Hozier. ALSO SURPRISE! THIS CONTAINS 3 HOZIER SONGS as an apology for not posting these past two weeks due to me enjoying holidays, reading, prom dress picking and wanting to stab myself because of life, there's the added bonus 👀

My CoD Masterlist

My Simon Riley x You Playlist

Also reader in this one had a lot of characterization, she's me fr, so AFAB?Reader, Fem!Reader, Short!Reader, Reader is VERY feminine with fashion, soft-girl-sunshine!Reader and Chubby?Reader. Y'all have no idea how hard it is to write without a personality and physical intimacy in romance, I tried but failed 😭

Warnings and Disclaimers: Mentions and details on sexual content ahead (is this considered smut? Idk anymore). Not detailed smut but vivid memories of sexual intercourse (especially the dialogue) with Simon. Again, this is a safe account for all ages because I'm not a MDNI acc, you are responsible for your own media consumption. DO NOT GO ON MY DMS, INBOX OR REPLY TO MY CONTENT TO TELL ME YOUR AGE. I don't need to know that and let's strive to not make each other uncomfortable. Mentions of questioning of religion or rather belief on afterlife??

Pink, bold and italic: Lyrics

Italic: recalling past events

Little snippet of an image of how I imagined he'd hold you, courtesy of the one and only @ave661

"It can't be said I'm an early bird, it's 10 o'clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?"

Simon Riley was never a man to live the life he was taught to in the military, it was out of habit for him to not leave his room until around noon. Then there was you, his roommate, he didn't exactly calculate how much it would affect his personal life to save money through rent by willingly letting someone within the same living space.

He'd find himself with not even a wink of sleep, hearing your footsteps through the thin walls, hearing the lock on the windows outside click open.

"You kept telling me to live right, to go to bed before the daylight. But then you wake up from the sunrise."

He'd always hear you, quite frankly it was like nagging on the constant.

"Simon you shouldn't do that, you'll hurt yourself"

"Simon please go get some rest"

"Simon.."

He'd swear he'd rip his own ears out every time his name falls from your lips from how sweet and chirpy it sounded and yet deafening silence would consume him whenever you aren't around.

"You don't gotta pretended, Baby, now and then. Don't you just wanna wake up dark as a lake? Smellin' lika bonfire, lost in the haze?"

Something about you makes it so tempting for Simon to give in, I mean it would be a one time thing, wouldn't it? So soft, so pliant, he set himself up for an addiction. It wasn't healthy, he knew this, he'd convince himself of the fact that he would end up hurting you.

Just too different, it repeated like a mantra in his head. He was bitter, brooding and didn't find any sense of pleasure in living. Why'd you think he has the job he chose? It's all he knew, till you skip your way into his life, giving him the sweetness he was deprived of.

"If you're drunk on life babe, I think it's great. But while in this world, I think I'll take my whiskey neat"

Drowning himself in alcohol, a trait Simon promised himself he wouldn't ever do when he was young, setting his glass down with a small thud from the wooden table. But what would the kid version of him know about life. He didn't have healthier options of coping with what seems to be his dilemma.

But then there you were, sweet little thing coming home at the late hour in that skimpy dress of yours. Revealing too much to the eyes of those who wish to have you for themselves with just one look. Where did you go that night?

"My coffee black in my bed at three, you're too sweet for me"

Desperately trying to keep himself awake and at bay from his thoughts of you. Drowning himself in now two cups of straight black coffee to help him focus.

It was odd, you got used to the scent, was strong with a lack of sweetness but it calmed you down knowing he was around.

How he'd corrupt you, he wanted to shatter that rose tinted glasses of yours to save you from himself because being with him would change you. Selfish but he doesn't want that, you were utter perfection..

Simon further delved into his feelings, what the fuck was wrong with him?

"I aim low. I aim true, and the ground's where I go. I work late where I'm free from the phone and the job gets done"

Grumbling, Simon walks back into the apartment in the middle of the night. You heard a thud, you come out of your bedroom, yawing from you incomplete sleep.

"Si..? Are you hurt? What happened?" You asked in a soft tone, careful not to agitate someone would could possibly be pissed off.

Simon stays silent, glaring at you as his eyes was only thing visible because of his balaclava. Your soft gaze intimidated him, because why would he feel that squeeze in his heart?

"But you worry some, I know but who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate. The rest of you like you're the TSA, I wish I could go along Babe, don't get me wrong..."

The only thing Simon heard was a sigh from you and nothing more, you walk up to him, each footstep feeling louder than that last.

Something Simon didn't expect you to do was wrap you arms around his waist, tiny thing you are that your head only goes up to his chest. Your body against his, basking in the warmth in contrast to the cold weather he had to deal with coming home.

"You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. If you can sit in a barrel maybe I'll wait, until that day.."

You took care of him that night, to his reluctance and stubbornness. Despite refusing, he had no choice, he wouldn't want a soft thing like you on his ear the whole night till he agrees. You were persuasive in your own irritating way.

Sitting on the edge of the tub of the warm bath he's in, washcloth in hand. Touch was so gentle, why was it so soft? Why's it so warm? "It's the water you fucking idiot" his subconscious screaming at him. In denial.

Why is his heart beating so fast..? He wants to stab it to stop the feeling..

"I'd rather take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three. You're too sweet for me"

Using both your hands this time around, one gently holding his chin with your fingers while the other wiping away at the eyeblack he had. Every scar on his face felt the graze of your finger.

The slow blinks, your eyes on his. Before any conscious thoughts consume Simon, he lifts his arms from the warm water and wraps them around you.

Your nightgown was now damp but you couldn't care less, now with the man you were pinning over, foreheads against the other.

"Si.." you softly whisper. That nickname will be the death of him, you'll be the death of him. He crashes his lips on yours, not wanting to let go till you both were panting. You were too fucking sweet, your lips, your skin, everything. He wanted a taste and he got it...

"My lover's got humor, she's the giggle at a funeral. Knows everybody's disapproval, I should've worshiped her sooner"

Another sleepless night wasn't uncommon for someone like Simon.. however this aching feeling wasn't, he doesn't know where it's from or what it's about. Not until he heard you in the kitchen, letting out a giggle even though you knew better.

"If the Heavens ever did speak, She's the last true mouthpiece. Every Sunday's getting more bleak. A fresh poison each week "We were born sick"

That sweet fucking voice, like the angels speaking to him themselves. "Oh- I'm sorry Si, did I wake you up?" You asked, turning around to the sound of his footsteps.

That tiny nightdress of yours, a reminder of the night you spent together, that morning you slept in his bed.

Lashes beautifully displayed on the delicate skin of your under eyes. Soft noises while your chest was peacefully moving up and down with every breath.

"She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom". The only Heaven I'll be sent to, is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well. A, Amen, Amen, Amen"

"Simon.. Ahh~" you moan out softly, your body writhing underneath him. It felt hot, sweaty despite the well ventilated room, so intimate from something that was supposed to be the farthest thing from domestic.

"Shhh, you can take it sunshine.. You don't want the neighbors to hear us, do you?" Simon whispers, callous hand covering your mouth with as little pressure possible, you whimper at his words.

Closing your eyes to lose yourself in the pleasure you've never felt before. Your body being worshiped with gentle hands and soft kisses that leave marks by the very same man who kept distancing himself from you, now he'd stop at nothing for your pleasure.

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life."

"Simon.. no more–" you whined. Scratching his back hard enough to leave marks without being aware, he'd always imagine what those pretty pink nails could do to him.

"Just one more, please sunshine.. you remember our safe word right?" Simon asks for you to nod softly, you didn't have energy to take anymore. "I told you I'll make you feel good, didn't I? So be a good girl for me and take it, hmm?"

Your eyes roll back at his praise, your legs shake with one after another wave of pleasure running through your body. This man was starved.. insatiable.. who would be able to resist such a request? Not you.

"If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight to keep the Goddess on my side. She demands a sacrifice, drain the whole sea, get something shiny"

It took everything in Simon not to worship the ground you walked on that night, he wasn't trying very hard, was he? Because always.. at the end of the night, you're in his bed, his mind, his life.

Was it really a sin? To want something you don't deserve? Simon stayed up that whole night, not a wink of sleep while thinking of whether this arrangement should continue. Every bone and organ in his body telling him to be selfish, take what was something that wasn't his to take.

"Something meaty for the main course, that's a fine looking high horse. What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful that looks tasty, that looks plenty, this is hungry work"

Simon's gaze, never faltering on your sleeping figure that he refuses to go anywhere but his own arms. He tries to close his eye to compose himself, free himself from the emotions you emit from him.

His efforts were to no use, all he saw was the image of you, sweetly smiling, those doe eye staring right through his soul.

"No masters or kings when the ritual begins. There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin In the madness, in the soil of that sad earthly scene. Only then I am human, only then I am clean"

You were getting too close for your own good, Simon knew that, he'll be damned if he let's himself hurt you. So he does what any stupid man would do, avoid you like the plague. Did it mean nothing? Were you just some fling, never to be talked about again?

Fuck you Simon Riley, he made you feel loved in bed like no man ever has or ever will, completely ruining your chance of ever thinking of anything else and that was just a hook-up session? Maybe this one time you can let yourself be delusional, was there really something more? Only one way to find out.

"Oh, oh, Amen, Amen, Amen, Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life"

You caught him, fucking finally, after days of waiting and trying to get him at the perfect time. "Si.." you whispered softly, you didn't know where to start. He took a quick glance at you before looking back at what he was doing.

"Simon Riley, don't fucking ignore me. Not after everything that happened those nights" You said, it was stern but he needed to hear it. It made him stop, think about what had happened.

Before he could generate a response, "Why?" You asked. It was a vague question, why was he ignoring you? Why does he feel this way? Why does he love you yet refuse to act on it?

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life.."

"You don't deserve a man like me, you deserve one who is like you, optimistic, sweet, fucking beautiful and alive.. A man who's not damaged, scarred, has blood on his hands and haunted by his past. A man who's not afraid to show his love for you. A man who won't put his burdens on your shoulders and a man who will take care of you instead of the other way around. That's what you deserve and I can't give that"

Everything felt like it came to a stop, were you hearing that right?

"You have no idea how much you contradict yourself, Si. How are you so sure that you haven't given those things to me already? You might not be like me but "like me" isn't what I want.. I want you, every flaw, every beautiful scar. Not once before your silent treatment have you hurt me, it's frustrating yes, but you are worthy of that. Every struggle, frustration and mistake, every bit of your love is worth all of that. I want you to see that Si, your actual true worth rather than what some psychotic fucker decided to torture you with"

"Boys, workin' on empty. Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby, I'm so full of love I could barely eat"

"Si?"

"Yes, Sunshine?"

"I love you" You whispered after smothering him in a plethora of kisses. Never has anything made Simon melt more in his life than his wife say that. Doesn't matter how long it's been, how much the both of you have been through or how much frustration the both of you were going through..

It will always stay the same, the feeling those three words give him, like the first time, every moment feels that way. Familiar, finally.. Home.

"There's nothing sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree. 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be, she give me toothaches just from kissin' me"

He always thought about how unfaithfulness was such a struggle between some people, he thought about how good he has it constantly, reflecting back on what he used to have to how now this is something he never thought he'd have or deserve.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

When a man finds himself in the verge of embracing death's arms, what causes the struggle? What causes him to fight that pain, to keep on going? Not once has this crossed Ghost's mind.

No. He's not Ghost, he's Simon. Your Simon.

And you're expecting your Simon home, fuck everything else, he'll give the biggest "fuck you" to death itself and crawl home to you because he'll be damned and he'll experience everything he has in his life over and over again just to hold you again.

"Boys, when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin, I woke with her walls around me. Nothin' in her room but an empty crib and I was burnin' up a fever I didn't care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her. She never asked me once about the wrong I did."

It should matter, the amount of blood on his hands. Not once did you judge him for it, what the fuck was wrong with you? Giving a monster such as him a bath like he was some innocent stray kitten, although this time around it was far more messy. The dried blood caked underneath his finger nails.

Flashing him a tired smile while you wiped off the blood that made the water in the tub a hue of brownish-red. Taking your hand in his, his lips brushing against your knuckles. The way you looked at him was enough to make him cry.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

"Fucking get up" Simon repeats to himself, "She needs you, she loves you" despite how many times he's convinced himself you didn't due to the voice of his father in his head, it felt like a knife twisting in his heart imagining how it would be for you without him.

How much you cried the night he came home a day later, you told him yourself, practically sobbing while clutching your aching chest and him with your other arm how you weren't ready for Price to show up at your doorsteps holding Simon's belongings.

He won't let that happen.. he can't...

"My babe would never fret none, about what my hands and my body done. If the Lord don't forgive me, I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me"

Simon knew it, no one would ever love him like you do. No one would show him the same acceptance, devotion, care, concern and love. It wasn't healthy to be so attached dependently to someone in love.

He couldn't help it, it felt so right, everything with you did. Never a judgmental one, at least towards him. Always first to hold him, the first to ever take away the heavy guilt that weighed his heart and shoulders down after he'd done something he knows he'll go to hell for, if it's even real

"When I was kissing on my baby and she put her love down soft and sweet In the low lamplight I was free. Heaven and hell were words to me"

Every inch was kissed, not a part wasn't worshiped. "So fuckin' beautiful, so sweet. All for me, hmm?" Simon mumbled against your skin, suckling on the soft sweetness that he so claims. All hickeys, no bruises.

Fuck, he'd not just survive but thrive on just you. No other sustenance, your supple thighs he adores to cover in purple, your neck, your lips and your skin that he often compares to sugar syrup in his head.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her"

The question was, was it worth it to live an eternity of lifetimes filled with suffer to be with you in at least once? The only answer to ever graze Simon Riley's lips was the word "yes", the day that changes is the day that he'd be the biggest bull-shiter the world has ever known.

Simon opened the door to your shared home, "Daddy!" A loud squeal wakes him up from his dread of what he's seen on the field.

"How's my little sunshine been? 'Ave you been good to your momma while I was gone?" Simon asked, carrying the little girl in his arms.

"Yes! Momma said we'd go to the park tomorrow as a reward for me helping out!" Little one saying it so proudly, Simon couldn't help but smile, beaming with pride as his little girl grows up to be what he recognizes as a good person.

"Simon..? You're finally home, I missed you so much" You said, peeking out the laundry room. You walked out, quick to give him a peck on the lips.

"I love you Si.."

"I love you too Sunshine"

Also this is a very long fic.. I expect long feedback.. @connorsui 👀

Does this make sense? Idk anymore it's like almost midnight and I'm running on a few hours of sleep. GOD MY PROM DRESS LOOKS SO GOOD, I CAN'T WAIT.

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @fawnchives @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

Trying out new dividers as well by @anitalenia

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lucysarah-c · 1 month

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Thinking about Levi being this amazing lover who leaves you breathless is great, amazing, perfect. Love it.

Then why does my mind tend to wander so much to Levi being sexually frustrated? Like this man closed up in the scouts after being taken out of the underground, stuck with a bunch of other guys in the barracks. Levi cherishes his privacy; he may have been young when he left the underground, but there's no way he's going to be jerking off under some thin blanket with the stink of mothballs while the others sleep. Then he finally gets his own room, his own office, bathroom, everything, but... he's so overwhelmed with work that he hardly has time to think about anything else.

He knows he's the one who reprimands the cadets if they are being hormonal little shits. But then some nights he simply can't help it. Hand on the slippery tiles, gripping it in vain as he bites his bottom lip and his hand works relentlessly on his cock. Squeezing it in all the right spots, playing with his own balls the way he knows drives him crazy. Some nights he gets off more than twice, but it's not the same. His mind replays vivid memories from the humid, dark dead ends of the underground city. With rushed quickies and the passionate recklessness of youth. No, his hand even pales in comparison to the memory of having his dick milked dry by some warm, slippery cunt.

Then, that's when you come into his thoughts. He simply can't stop thinking about you; he feels like he's a teenager all over again, and he hates it. He wets his sheets like a pre-teen having dreams. He brews you a tea that you softly blow on because it's too hot, and he simply can't help but imagine your gorgeous lips so close to his dick, smiling mischievously but not touching him. Your body in the harness only fuels wild thoughts of how he would tie you up, force you into position, snap those belts against your skin until it's boiling red.

And perhaps, just perhaps... the real reason why he asks for a blow job before he ravages you in bed is eagerness under the guise of dominance. He's scared of not lasting long enough if he doesn't finish once, perhaps making himself look like a fool and cumming as soon as he finally feels the welcoming heat of your velvet walls.

But Levi would never admit it, of course not.

Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @i-literally-cant-with-this @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @s0meb0dy-0nce-t0ld-me @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @@hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @flxrartsstuff @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee Wanna join my tag list? Here!

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zhongrin · 2 months

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series idea (that i'll never write) from a silly tag game a friend tagged me in:

cw. yandere

you got isekaid to genshin.

except.

you got isekaid into a medieval!au genshin fanfic, which your friend was in the middle of writing. and as if that's not enough, you find out that you're just one of the nameless npcs who's destined to die from a plague outbreak just a week away. and you know jack shit about medicine (or even if you do, you have zero idea how to implement modern medicines/remedies in this new civilizations ー heck, the plants in teyvat are different!). to top it off? your friend is a yandere, dead-dove-do-not-eat writer.

rest in pieces, [name]. maybe you'll find love before you die? or do you wish to cheat your death and risk derailing the wheel of fate?

possible love interest:

dottore // royal physician who has a hobby of experimenting with... a lot of things. ignore the way he always seem to carry a pouch of scent-masking herbs in his coat.

baizhu // just a soft-spoken, gentle village doctor. who seems to be a little too overprotective of his daughter(?), qiqi. never, ever go into the door that says 'staffs only' when you visit his clinic, okay? good.

wriothesley // grand duke of the north who's surprisingly not cold and feared too much by the masses? he's actually pretty friendly! maybe he'll help you! just play dumb when you catch a glimpse of the darker stains on his black clothes and the unusually sharp glint of his fangs!

zhongli // just a silly man who tries to purchase tea and was horrified when they served him fannings steeped in a bag and charged him 5000 mora. he's always happy to talk to you despite you being a nobody. what's that? the missing emperor of liyue sighted in this region? my my. what an amusing tale. people have such vivid imaginations these days.

#yandere #genshin impact #genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #wriothesley x reader #dottore x reader #baizhu x reader #dottore #baizhu #wriothesley #zhongli #rin releases a plot bunny into the wild #why does this feel like a fucked up dark webtoon plotline HAHAHAHAH

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biteofcherry · 6 months

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To find the light, we must first touch the darkness

Please also check out @bluepinkangel’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.

warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; manipulation; power imbalance; forced marriage; D/s undertones; ex-pli-cit; knife kink; choking; choking kink; praise;

word count: 7k

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 6. Downpour

~ * ~

Victims often described the events of their traumatic experience as a blur. Or a film montage of chopped scenes, often black and white, or with one color prevailing. Sometimes their minds protected themselves so strongly they dissociated, their consciousness floating away into a safe space.

Nothing of the sort happened to you on your dreaded wedding day.

If anything, you felt more present in the moment than in the days leading to it.

Colors were vibrant, sounds clear, your feelings vivid.

You felt the constriction of the built-in corset of your wedding dress, the soft swish of the embroidered, shiny tulle in the chalice of the wide skirt; as well the warm amazement at how beautiful you looked.

Even though your spite tempted you to pick a dress that would manifest how much you didn’t want to say your vows, you couldn’t help the flaming love you experienced at the sight of yourself in a stunning wedding dress.

A fucking princess style, out of all.

You wanted to hate it, to cross it out purely to not give Steve the extra satisfaction, but your parents teared up when they saw you in it. Maybe they had some qualms about the speedy wedding, but they sure got on board with it when they saw your face glowing.

You didn’t have the heart to tell them it was because you felt beautiful, not because you loved your future husband.

Whose handsome face you couldn’t look away from as your father walked you down the aisle.

Dressed in a sharp suit, steel gray a tone warmer than his cold heart, Steve watched you every step of your way to him. Others perhaps saw in his face awe, getting all mushy over how much he had to be in love with you, but you knew it was a glint of triumph.

You said your vows in the wide garden surrounding Steve’s property, under an arch of lush peonies and vines. You were sure it’s only thanks to the two glasses of Prosecco and Steve’s hand holding yours a tad too tightly, that you recited your promise to him without a hitch.

With how smooth and soft Steve’s voice was, how he held your gaze captive, you’d think he was expressing true, deep feelings when he said his vows.

True was his possessiveness.

Steve displayed it first in the way he kissed you - draping you over his arm, like in old Hollywood movies, and branding your lips with a breathstealing, passionate kiss. Unable to resist, your arm sneaked around his neck, fingers splaying on the back of his head, while your other hand gripped onto the lapel of his suit jacket.

Then by keeping you occupied each dance, allowing only your father to lead you through two songs.

To your further annoyance, Steve turned out to be a really good dancer. Or maybe he was simply good at holding you and controlling your body as he guided you across the wooden planks built into a dance floor specially for this occasion.

“You look beautiful, Princess.”

There was no breathtaking awe in Steve’s voice, like you used to imagine your true love would say those words one day. But it was no coy game, either. Steve meant them, it was an honest compliment.

It was also his pride in owning you.

“I’m already your wife, all is signed. No need for bullshit,” you stared over Steve’s shoulder, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze and see what desires may shine in the ice cold blue irises.

He twirled you suddenly, then pulled you back to him. Kept you pressed against him tighter as he brushed his lips along your cheek.

“I’d think by now you know I don’t really bullshit anyone,” he whispered in your ear. “I do find you stunning. And I’ll repeat those words later, when I have you naked in our bedroom.”

Heat filled you faster than after that shot you sneaked right before soup was served, to calm your nerves and numb yourself further as the reality of being now Mrs Rogers started settling in. No, that fast dose of booze didn’t scorch your insides the way Steve’s promise of the wedding night did.

“Not gonna happen,” you tried sounding fierce, but your voice came much breathier than you’d like.

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Steve chuckled, tip of his tongue flicking the shell of your ear, eliciting goosebumps to appear all over your skin.

His hand on your back was placed low, but he dipped his fingers even further, toying with the ribbon of your corset right above the curve of your ass.

“We have a deal, after all.” He reminded you.

You wanted to argue with him, that technically you didn’t agree to it, but you knew it’s futile. You suffered some disturbing sexual deviancy and your pussy tingled at the mere thought of Steve touching it. So you planned on simply being sneaky and wiping yourself dry before entering the bedroom. And then staying resolved and unbothered, so that Steve’s dark touch didn’t force a single drop of slick out.

You considered stuffing your nose with something too, because the scent of Steve alone now that he was pressed to you so close, was enough to warm up your body.

To ignore your own responses - to his smell, to his touch, to the images of wicked acts he could do to you - you focused your gaze above Steve’s shoulder. Glancing at random guests, at the stunning flower arrangements, trying not to hurt from the fact your parents looked so joyous.

You frowned, noticing Natalie smirking around the rim of a champagne flute as she talked to a man whom you recognized as Steve’s most trusted right hand, Bucky. While flirting at a wedding wasn’t something unusual, alarm bells rang in your head at the prospect of Natalie endangering herself. She was already at risk, being associated with you, but to dance with a wolf was like playing with fire that was surely going to consume her whole.

You didn’t know much about Bucky, practically nothing, but if he was this close to Steve then there was no trace of innocence or clear conscience in him.

No one could stay pure, if they followed in Rogers’ murky wake. A realization which made you wonder, if your own core may rot and dissolve at his feet.

Your heart fluttered, as Steve twirled your body again. Chalice of your dress opened, shimmering in the sunlight as if encrusted in crushed diamonds. In reality it was a faint sparkle compared to the actual bling of the diamond ring on your finger.

You glared at it with disdain when Steve first put it on your finger, seeing nothing but a leash. A brand of ownership and reminder of torment. But the more glances you stole, the more irresistible it was to admire.

It was truly beautiful and you hated it for it.

Steve pulled you back to his body, pressing you even closer than before. Tip of his nose grazed along yours, the icy blue of his irises warming into the shade of pure sky. His breath tickled your mouth, mingling with yours as your lips parted on a gasp.

Then his lips were on you. Soft and coaxing, tempting you to respond in submission.

You told yourself it’s the surprise of it that made you give in, the spectacle you had to continue for the guests, but you couldn’t completely deny the jolt of excitement that spurred heat into every crevice of your body, then melted it into a pliant surrender.

You were vaguely aware of the camera flashes as pictures of you were taken. The sound of cheering and clapping barely registering through the haze of your heartbeat pounding in your head.

There was no triumphant smirk on Steve’s lips when he reluctantly pulled away, which would undoubtedly shake you out of daze. Instead, there was a dark hunger that clenched your heart in fear and your cunt in anticipation.

You found yourself surprisingly reluctant to step out of his embrace as the song ended and Steve took the opportunity to build the lie further by asking your mother to dance.

Trying to avoid dancing with Steve wasn’t as clever a solution as you first thought, because the bastard found other ways to instigate small gestures of intimacy that confused your brain and tickled your clit like a living tongue.

Like him smoothly commenting how delicious that seasoned rib was and how you should try it, then promptly feeding you a piece of it.

With his fingers.

Purposely slipping his fingertip between your lips along with the meat.

It was a split of a second, but enough to have a wave of heat wash over you and your thighs clench.

You thanked heaven that you picked a princess dress, because the layers of the skirt at least hid the movement that would otherwise betray you.

A gulp of wine couldn’t wash away the sensation, nor did it wipe the lewd image of Steve forcing his fingers into your mouth. Would they be salty? Would they feel heavy as he pressed them against your tongue? Would his rings feel cool?

Then you didn’t even have alcohol to numb yourself. Steve made sure your glass was filled with water only as the celebrations proceeded. When you glared at him, trying to yank your hand out of his grip, he said he won’t have you sloshed on your wedding night.

“Don’t want you to worry it was only the booze that got you wet,” he sucked on your earlobe.

But made it look so sweet, the way he pressed his cheek to yours and gently held your hand, that to the others it had to look as if he was whispering love admissions into your ear.

The bastard played supportive and soothing as he caressed your back when you were saying goodbye to the guests leaving the reception late in the evening. Your mom took your teary eyes as an overwhelming, but positive emotion that made her all mushy as well.

You couldn’t cling to her, or your dad, crying in despair that they were leaving you with a monster. Not when that monster was constantly by your side, being most respectful and charming towards them. Displaying a twisted care for you that eased your parents’ worries while irritating you.

There were fireworks bursting in the sky in abundant splashes of color as Steve led you to the master bedroom.

Everyone was gone, only the wedding planner’s team was rushing around like busy bees, cleaning up and packing leftovers. And they all pretended they didn’t see you. You thought some of Steve’s men were also circling around, but you didn’t know yet if it was to keep an eye on the workers, or if it was their routine to guard Steve’s mansion.

Once inside the bedroom, you blurted out your need to use the bathroom and promptly locked yourself inside. Only for a few moments you entertained the thought of staying in and sleeping on the tiled floor, but you knew Steve wouldn’t allow that. He’d sooner take the damn door down than give you reprieve.

He wanted to wreck your body too much.

And you feared how you may react to it.

As you pulled up layers and layers of tulle, to use the toilet and clean yourself from the already obvious reaction to Steve’s touch; you accepted that your anxiety wasn’t for debauchery, but for the inappropriate eagerness of your body.

For fuck’s sake, you were dripping and coming on command when he defiled you with a gun!

How much stronger was your reaction going to be when he caressed you with his hands and mouth?

After wiping yourself dry, you cleaned your hands and with your head held high stepped out into the bedroom. You still planned on fighting tooth and nail to not arouse from whatever he had planned.

Having taken off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves, Steve waited for you in the middle of the room. His eyes glinted with satisfaction when you stepped out. He crooked a finger at you, beckoning you to him.

“I knew you’d come out like a good girl, Princess,” he crooned, not at all bothered by your stomping and glaring daggers his way.

“Didn’t feel like watching a door being splintered into pieces,” you snapped, clenching your hands on the skirt of your dress as you stood right in front of Steve.

“Of course. That’s the only splintering you were concerned about,” he teased, running a single digit down the column of your neck. “But I know, Princess. I know there’s this curiosity that draws you to me. You may hate it, but your body is eager to learn what I’ll do to you.”

“It’s not. I’m not!” You protested, yet you didn’t flinch when his finger drew a scorching line from one collar bone to the other, then dipped lower to trace your cleavage.

“I want to believe your words, Princess,” Steve said in pretend seriousness, “but let’s check in with your body, too.”

As embarrassing the thought of him flipping your skirts up was, you inwardly prayed he’d do it quickly. If he touched your pussy now, he’d find you dry. But if he prolonged the whole thing, you had no certainty it would stay this way.

“I’m aware how fond of my gun you are,” his words startled you, stopping your heart for a split of a second then sending it into a fluttery beat. The memory of the warm muzzle dragging along your thigh and slipping under your panties spurred heat to pool low in your core.

Shit! No!

No, no, no. You couldn’t get wet!

“But I didn’t think it’s an accessory appropriate for the wedding,” Steve’s mouth curved into a lopsided smile that only added to his criminally hot look.

“So I had something special to be custom made for this occasion-” he touched your cheek in a sweet caress- “and for any future occasions… with my wife.”

Your breath hitched in your lungs when he called you his wife. He made it sound reverent, but at the same time his tone dripped with that dark triumph that reminded you there was no way out from his clutches.

You watched Steve dip his hand into his pocket and then a glint of steel flashed before your eyes.

A switchblade so sharp and polished so smooth that it seemed to be honed out of pure light. The handle was a shimmery white, with undertones of rainbow. Mother of pearl, you realized.

Steve had his fingers wrapped around it, but purposely flipped it out, pinching the hilt between two of his fingers so you could see the silver initials engraved on it. Your initials, but with your last name being Rogers.

Eyes widening, you went still as Steve brought the blade to your skin. Just the tip of it, you barely felt its touch, but your mind was already running with images of cuts and drawn blood. It should scare you, cause tears to fall out. Instead, you felt your pulse thundering in places that shouldn’t react to fear with excitement.

Steve drew a soft line over the curve of your breasts and dipped the steel into the valley between them.

He wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the front of your neck. His eyes heated up as your pupils widened in reaction, once again proving how weak you were for this single gesture. Keeping his hold firm enough you felt the silver of his rings pressing into your skin, Steve traced the blade along the trim of your wedding dress and then down your ribcage.

“Are you afraid I’m going to hurt you?” Steve’s voice was deceivingly soft, as if he really cared if you were scared.

You doubted he’d stop, even if you claimed that you are. You’d sooner expect him to mock you and then proceed to torment your body, proving to you how much you craved his depravity.

But it wasn’t the physical torture you wanted to avoid. For how bad Steve was, how he fucked up your life, somehow you knew he wouldn’t harm you physically. Well, perhaps if you betrayed him. He’d kill you then. But as long as you followed his plans, you were certain he wouldn’t raise his hand on you.

Steve’s thumb brushed along your jaw in a seemingly soothing caress. You turned your face to the side, but he forced you to look back at him when you admitted in a defeated whisper:

“I’m afraid you will make me like it.”

Fingers still curled around the front of your neck, Steve inched closer. Blue of his irises seemed to glitter an impossible hue up this close, mesmerizing you.

You were a prey fully ensnared.

“I will, Princess.” Steve’s lips teased yours. “I will give you pleasure that hurts so good.”

A tiny whimper escaped your mouth. You wished it was a sound of trepidation, but it held an unmistakable undertone of need. It was too late now, you felt a wet spot forming on your white undergarments.

Steve kissed you softly, reverently; like a husband in love might kiss his beloved wife on their wedding night. Combined with the pressure of a sharp blade at your side, it made your head spin.

“Stay still, please,” Steve squeezed your throat lightly, before releasing you and taking a step back.

He walked around you, slowly making a full circle as he admired you. Teasing you by making you wait for what he does next. When he stopped behind you and you felt the puff of his breath on your nape, your fingers trembled.

Then the cool blade pressed where Steve’s warm breath tickled you a second ago. He drew a sharper line down the middle of your back. You didn’t feel the sting of a cut, but he put enough pressure for you to feel a tingling scratch that dispersed into pleasant burning.

You gulped when you felt him hook the knife under the lacing of your dress.

“I can just take it off.” You grumbled, frowning. It was a stunning dress and even though you wouldn’t be wearing it ever again, you weren’t happy with the idea of it being cut to pieces.

“You could,” Steve chuckled, “but then I wouldn’t get to hear you-”

You gasped as he swiftly cut through the first string.

“-make that lovely sound.”

Steve relished in each cut, though you weren’t sure if he was more entranced with your little noises (which you tried to suppress, but failed at times), the act of cutting itself, or with your naked skin being revealed as the bodice of your dress parted.

When the corset opened fully, dropping and exposing your upper body, Steve smoothed his hand along your back. Which elicited another gasp from you.

You expected the blade to return, to draw dangerous patterns on your fragile skin. Steve’s warm, gentle caress sent a different kind of jolt down your spine, causing your tense muscles to relax in foolish trust. He pressed himself to your back, moving his hand around your front and boldly cupping your breast. A wave of heat seemed to scorch your face from the inside, but it also pooled between your thighs.

He peppered kisses along your neck as he played with your breast; sucked on your skin as he switched his attention to the other tit.

There was no logical thought in your head when he pinched your nipple hard and you arched; one of your arms flying up to grip the back of Steve’s head. It was an instinctive reaction of your body’s deepest need.

Suddenly, Steve’s touch left you. Only to pull impatiently at your dress, forcing the abundant skirt to fall down. Big hands - one still holding a knife - clenched around your hips. He picked you up so easily, as if you weighed close to nothing.

Then he was dropping you onto the grand bed. Before you even managed to push yourself up, he flipped you over onto your back. A split of a panicked thought almost had you inching away, reheating the idea to fight him. But one of Steve’s hands clenched on your ankle, while the other splayed on your belly - the one holding the knife.

“Lie back, Princess.” Steve’s tone wasn’t harsh, but it chimed with certain urgency.

You stilled. Though you preferred to think it was because of the blade he left on your belly in a warning, not because he asked you to.

Definitely not because you couldn’t look away from him as Steve undressed in a few quick, practiced moves.

The sight was so enticing you didn’t think of grabbing the knife and possibly changing the flow of the night to your advantage.

Without his shirt on, you saw the wide plains of Steve’s chest and chiseled abdomen; saw the tattoos entwining his arms and upper body. Dark patterns, with a few splashes of rich color, that only added to the dark, thrilling aura of Steve Rogers.

You swore that while Steve was a scary motherfucker in his usual wear, he’d appear an even more lethal demon if he approached his victims half-naked.

Your gaze shifted downward when he pushed his pants down, but you forced it back up to his face. Mostly because you feared the sound you may make, if you saw his cock. Partly because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of you staring.

When Steve knelt on the mattress and then crawled forward, you dropped your head to the pillows and focused on the ceiling. A part of you craved to watch him, to await in trepidation, but you still held onto that sane part of your brain that told you it’s wrong to want it. Wrong to give in to him so easily.

“You’re beautiful, Princess.” He repeated the words, just like he promised.

Calloused fingers traced up your legs. The sensation this touch evoked made you want to clench your thighs, but Steve’s knee was wedged between your legs, preventing it.

Eyes focused on your face, Steve seemed to study and memorize every spark of reaction to his touch. He picked up the knife again. The grin that he flashed you as he brought the blade to your skin was all satisfaction and condescending praise. He didn’t say it, but you almost heard the Good girl. For doing as he told you. For waiting. For being so obviously responsive.

He knelt above you as he trailed the knife along your exposed body. His gaze shifted between the glint of the blade and your face. As his aim traveled south, Steve moved along with it.

Corner of his mouth tugged upward in a dangerous smirk when he slipped the tip of the blade under the white lace of your panties.

Your whole body went rigid. Your mouth opened, your breath becoming ragged.

And yet, when he slashed the fabric apart, you felt a new gush of slick.

Steve cut the other side of your panties as well, then pushed your thighs further apart. Exposing your shameful reaction.

“Princess,” he licked his lips, “it appears that you’re wet.”

He tapped the wide side of the blade against your clit, the jolt of it making you clench around nothing. Steve’s eyes darkened and a low, growling kind of sound rumbled in his chest as he used the knife to flick away the lace that was sticking to your drenched folds.

“You’re not wet. You’re dripping.” He seemed to be in awe of the discovery.

It was in a sense a comforting feeling, to see more than just a cocky triumph. To see Steve affected by the situation. Perhaps not as strongly as you were, but with enough force to make you think perhaps it was a novelty for him as well.

“Say it, Princess.” Steve’s gaze flicked back to your face; his own eyes full of dark hunger. “Say how wet you are, for me.”

Your lips clenched shut, a stubborn frown drawing your eyebrows together. It was humiliating enough that you were so lewdly on display for this bastard, that your body betrayed you and was ready to take him. Admitting it aloud would only strip you of all defenses.

When Steve slapped your inner thigh, the sting of it seemed to zing directly to your clit.

“Ohh!” You couldn’t suppress the gasp, but then managed to spat angrily - “Fuck, fine! I’m wet for you, you bastard.”

As much as you hated it, your anger was less about him demanding your admission and more about him not touching you where you most needed it.

“Your husband.” Steve reminded you, with sinister glee.

With his knee, he pressed your other leg down. Then dragged the knife along the skin of your inner thigh. This time you felt the prick of pain as he cut the tissue. You hissed, head lifting up to stare at the tiny, thin wound. A single drop of blood pearled at the end of it.

Then Steve’s mouth was on it. Warm and sucking, and drawing a surprised moan out of you.

He sucked and licked it clean, making you forget about everything else. His mouth moved up, closer and closer to your core. When he finally licked into your folds as if he was biting into a ripe fruit, you dropped down with a cry.

Fingers gripping the sheets tightly, you rode sensations unknown to you until then. Muscles strained in pain as you held yourself stiff, still sensing that blade pressed against your skin. Steve had his arms wrapped under and around your thighs, keeping you spread as he feasted on your pussy. One of his hands was holding the knife against your abdomen, the sharp tip right on your mound.

“Oh God, please!” Your eyes clenched shut. “Please, please, Steve. I-”

As he lapped at your clit, lashing it with rapid flicks then sucking on it so sweetly, you felt your orgasm building painfully high. You were heartbeats away from climaxing.

“Stop, please!” You begged. “The knife- I can’t- I need-”

Even if you were pleading for him to stop what he was doing all together, Steve wouldn’t listen. Not when he was so close to owning you completely. You needed something slightly different and you hoped Steve would recognize the urgency.

Mercifully, he paused. Though he held his lips close to your clit as he looked up at you from between your thighs - his eyes reminiscing of the stars frozen in dark waters of the northern lakes.

“What do you need from your knife, Princess?” He asked, tilting the blade an inch lower.

It almost touched your clit.

“Place it away, please,” you started explaining, sensing that he wouldn’t comply without a satisfying reason. “I- I’m about to come. And I will, um, move. I can’t stay still. I just, I never could. I can’t.”

“You’re afraid I’d cut you, if you get all squirmy and arching?” Twinkle of amusement lit up Steve’s eyes.

“Please, Steve.” You feared tearing up, if he refused you. You also feared he would make you cum and cut you, and that you weren’t ready for that combination of pain and pleasure.

He hummed, holding your gaze as he licked your clit again. Your muscles tensed anew, he had to feel them straining in your thighs where he held you. Then, very slowly, he untangled himself from you. Steve let your thighs drop to the mattress freely. He lifted the hand holding the knife and you sagged in relief.

Steve leaned over you, bracing his weight on one arm. His broad frame cast a shadow over you. He brought the blade up to your face, you could see a fragment of your reflection in it.

“Kiss it.” Steve ordered.

You stared at him, bewildered. He waited, surprisingly patiently, holding the blade inches from your mouth. He called this knife yours. Had it custom made for you. Used it on you in ways you never imagined in a sexual encounter. Teased what more he could do. What he probably would do to you in the future. And he wanted you to kiss it as if in gratitude for all the lewd things it would unleash on you.

Swallowing nervously, you lifted your head enough to press your lips against the steel.

“Good girl,” he praised.

Your gaze followed Steve’s arm as he reached toward the nightstand to place the knife on it. Then his hand swiped along your arm, caressing muscles that strained from still gripping the sheets.

He coaxed you back into the moment with a sensual kiss. The way his tongue dipped between your lips was soft and seductive. You’d never expect someone like Steve to be able to kiss like that.

Heat quickly returned in pulsing beats to your clit as Steve kissed down your body. He settled back between your thighs, with a moan tasting your pussy once more. Relentlessly, he licked and sucked you back to that edge. Then pushed you over it as he pushed a finger into you.

Steve kept that finger pumping steadily into your fluttering walls as he trailed wet bites up your body. He was hovering above you. Mouth, glistening with your arousal, was a lick away from you when he thrust a second digit inside. The stretch made you keen and Steve drank up every grimace you made.

“Touch me, Princess,” he tempted you, curling his fingers just right. “Come on. Touch. I know you want to.”

If your brain wasn’t a post-orgasmic mush, maybe you could muster some stubborn will to do the opposite. But he was right, you itched to touch him, to feel the ripple of his muscles beneath your fingertips, to see how hot he ran.

Hesitantly at first, you placed both of your hands on his shoulders. Your gaze found one of the intricate vines that weaved along his shoulder and up his neck, a branch sprouting from it curved down and over his pectoral. You traced it with one hand, your other instinctively moving to Steve’s back.

When you traced the contoured muscles of his abdomen, fingernails scratching lightly at the narrow path of coarse hair leading southwards, Steve increased the pace of his fingers. It stirred the fire in your core into a burst, evoking another moan.

“Lower.” Steve gritted out, putting more of his weight and heat onto you. “Wrap that small hand of yours around my cock, Princess.”

It was dirty - his words and the squelching sound of your pussy as he fingerfucked you.

But it also made you drop your gaze between your bodies, searching for a glimpse of that dick. It swayed heavy, half-hard, right above your hip. Your walls clenched unexpectedly as you watched it.

This wasn’t the first cock you saw in your life. You were far from a blushing virgin. There was something about Steve, however, that made you feel nervous and out of your depth. It appeared that sex with him was a whole new, scary discovery.

Steve urged you with another command and your hand slipped down instantly. Hot, pulsing flesh in your palm, twitching and hardening as you curled your fingers around the quite impressive girth.

It would stretch you so deliciously. Steve didn’t need to voice it for your imagination to ignite with the phantom sensation.

You tightened your hold, swiping your thumb over the widened, red head. At Steve’s deep moan, your eyes flew up to his face, watching his pleasure in wonder. He didn’t hide it from you, didn’t try to pretend he wasn’t affected. Still, you felt yourself more at his mercy than he was at yours. Especially when you sensed that small kick of elation at giving him pleasure with your touch.

You smeared the beads of precum down his shaft and started stroking. It was a mismatched rhythm, your focus faltering every time Steve drove his crooked fingers against that sensitive, spongy spot inside you.

When Steve sat back on his haunches, you stopped your movement. A rush of heat filled you with sudden shyness as his gaze roamed over your splayed body.

Skin dewy, breasts heaving with quickened breath, legs spread wide. Your hand was still around his cock, your ring and wedding band catching sparks of light. Steve’s own fingers were buried deep in your cunt, your slick glistened on his palm and wrist.

Steve moved his other hand up your body, marveling at your curves and softness. He gave your breast a playful squeeze before trading his fingers further up. Fingers encircled the front of your neck in a familiar way.

“You’re a fucking perfection, Princess.”

Then he was withdrawing his fingers from your heat; milky slick sticking in a web between his digits. He knocked your hand away and spread your wetness all over his cock.

He held your gaze as he dragged his dick between your puffed folds and into your hole. A pause for you to catch your breath, then he was thrusting in one fluid, firm stroke.

A curse bubbled on your lips, stretching into a moan as he split you. Unable to reach him at the moment, your hands fisted the shits, gripping and twisting the fabric. Nipples stiffened into hard peaks, your chest arched upward at the same time as your head bowed back.

There was no second to adjust, no mercy. Steve pounded into you roughly, setting a steady tempo. He watched your body move along the mattress, at least as much as his hold on your throat and your hip allowed. Your breasts swayed with each thrust, your thighs shook with each slap of his hips into you.

He watched your eyes glaze over as an orgasmic haze crept over you anew. Your pretty mouth stayed open, letting out all the sweet noises. It took barely a few of his thrusts and you were cumming again.

Everything was still spinning in your head when Steve yanked your hips more upwards. Your buttocks rested on his thighs, legs thrown over his hips as he fucked into you. Grip on your throat tightened more and more. Your eyes flew open, one of your hands grabbing onto Steve’s wrist. Unbothered, he kept choking you lightly. At the same time, his other hand sneaked across your abdomen.

With your airflow limited, every sensation seemed to heighten impossibly. The stretch of his cock, the pressure of his hand on your lower belly. The coil tightened and tightened, and when Steve swiped his thumb over your engorged clit, you shattered with a soundless scream.

Steve released your throat and the gulps of air you instinctively tok between raw cries seemed to prolong your orgasm. It twisted into a craze that felt agonizingly good.

So good it caused you to cry, salty streaks dripping out of the corners of your eyes and down your temples.

Through the thunderous buzz of blood pounding in your head, the muffled sound of Steve’s voice reached you. Your brain was unable to function enough to recognize it, but it sounded like your name. And something akin to ‘Atta girl.

When Steve shifted, you welcomed his warm heaviness like a comforting blanket, mapping his sweaty back with your hands. He was still moving, speeding up, as he braced both of his forearms on the mattress. His breath was hot against your skin, his lips starved as he kissed and nipped.

He rested his forehead against yours as he came with a loud moan. Warmth of his spend filled you and though you didn’t think of it now, later you would be thankful for the little contraceptive implant you had. As the fog of pleasure held you in its grip, you didn’t care for the consequences. Not when Steve was still rocking slightly into you, his cock twitching.

You sighed, scrunching up your nose, when Steve pulled out a while later. Your pussy throbbed in protest, or maybe it was from the ache that was starting to make itself known. You leaked, too, which would make you really embarrassed if you weren’t too boneless to care.

You managed to wipe at your temples and cheeks, where remnants of tears still wetted your skin, before Steve was touching you again. He flipped you onto your belly then licked a line up your spine with a broad stroke of his tongue.

“Aren’t you done?” You huffed, fearing you may not be able to survive more.

“Far from it,” Steve laughed and playfully slapped your ass.

You were thankful that he spent quite some time just kissing and touching your back, your ass and your thighs. Whether he was giving himself enough time to get hard again, or if he was this dedicated to learning your body.

When he sat on your thighs, his knees braced on the outside of your closed legs, and squeezed your asscheeks, you expected him to play there more. Instead, you felt him spread you enough to expose your pussy. He slid inside slowly, but it still took you by surprise.

Steve laid on top of you, balancing his weight on his arms as he pulled back and thrust back in. The angle unraveled a completely new type of sensation.

“Oh my- fuuuck!” You couldn’t help the unladylike, high pitched squeal.

Nails scratching at the sheets helplessly, you spluttered mewls as Steve purposely rocked his hips back and forth.

“Awww,” he cooed, “is that the spot, Princess?”

Then he pulled back and slammed back in. Each thrust grazed that ultrasensitive area; each time he sunk deeper and deeper, too.

If you were moaning and crying when he fucked you the first time, these sounds were a symphony of pitiful and needy that surpassed others. At one point your mouth just hung open, saliva seeping out of the corner and staining the mattress.

Your toes curled and you helplessly kicked your feet up and down, unable to shift in your position to ease the increasing, maddening pleasure. With your cheek pressed to the mattress, your gaze mindlessly focused on the ring on your finger where your hand rested beside your head.

Steve’s fingers entered your vision, brushing along your hand and intertwining with your fingers. A mockery of softness in the ruthless way he was fucking you.

Your cunt tightened around him, producing more slick the longer he railed that tormenting spot. The sound of him fucking you turned more and more squelching.

“I want you to soak the sheets,” Steve grunted. When you made a noise of protest, he paused to force your legs wide apart with his feet. “Come on, Princess. Make a mess.”

And you did.

Hiding your face in the bedding didn’t suppress the string of cries as you climaxed, squirting a small pool of release.

Steve fucked you through it. Each of his hard thrusts ripping your whimpers into a choked single vowel as you went lax beneath him.

“Fuck, Princess.” He groaned, feeling your wetness drip down his balls. “I would wife you up for that alone. You really-” his hips snapped harder and faster- “are. Fucking. Perfect.”

Your fingers remained intertwined, Steve’s face buried in the crook of your neck, as he came. Perhaps it was the angle at which he was buried inside of you, or maybe this time his orgasm was much stronger, but you felt every throb and every spurt more clearly than before. Felt yourself full with his cum and dripping excess of your combined spend.

Long, long minutes later, when Steve pulled out and dropped next to you onto the mattress, you didn’t even blame him for not having enough power (or decency) to get you a wet cloth.

Honestly, you didn’t have any strength to get up either.

It was later, as you resigned yourself to falling asleep in the mess that you made, that you heard the sound of a drawer being open. Then a soft, wet wipe was pressed to your inner thigh. It was a surprise. Felt a little weird, too. But you rested quietly as Steve wiped you and himself clean, tossing used tissues into the bin hidden behind the nightstand.

When he laid back down on the unsoiled side of the bed and reached for you, you glared at him.

Yes, he fucked your brains out. You seriously doubted there were any functioning brain cells left. Yes, you were officially married. Still, it didn’t mean you were going to play a docile wife in every aspect of this torment.

“You want to sleep on the stained sheets?” Steve arched a single eyebrow. “Swallow your stubbornness and scoot here, Princess.”

It was voiced as if he was giving you an option, but he didn’t wait for your decision. Astonishingly easily, he sneaked a hand under one of your thighs and simply lifted you enough to relocate you.

Nestled to Steve’s side, with one leg hiked over his thigh, you willed yourself to stay awake long enough to sneak out when Steve dozed off. Unfortunately for you, your will was too fucked out.

You fell asleep snuggled to the ruthless mafia monster.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #dark mafia!steve rogers #dark mafia!steve rogers x you #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x you #dark mafia!steve rogers x reader #touch the darkness #my writing

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undercoverpena · 2 months

Text

2. lemon twist

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter two of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.4k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over IG. frankie being a single!dad to a son. frankie gives reader/you a nickname (paint related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: thank you so much for all the love on chapter one, and the bonus graphic. I'm so happy to bring you chapter two! also, WE'RE POSTING WEEKLY BABIESSS

prev chapter | frankie's ig

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

A soft, melodic tune pulls you into the land of the living, aware of the tug of it, and the immediate reluctance you have to leave the comfort of your dreams.

Your hand hesitates, reluctant to emerge from under the snug warmth of your sheets before your fingers are tapping and searching, all sluggish with sleep, groping blindly as it crawls against the wooden top of your bedside table. It's only when your fingertips connect with the screen does the world fall into silence.

Nothingness. Stillness. Peace.

The perfect environment for your mind to come to itself as you slowly open your lashes, raising a balled-up fist to rub slumber away, as your gaze meets streams of light rolling in through the breeze-blown curtains.

Then it hits you.

Comes to you in a trickle. Then a flood.

One after the other, memories of last night rush over you. Messages sent and received coming to you, recalling the way you'd tucked a pillow under your chest as your thumbs replied quickly to each incoming DM. Then, you recall the giddiness, how it fluttered through you—how it still remains. Still ever-present and very much thrumming inside of you as you begin to smile.

It remains on your face as you roll out of bed. A brief memory of something he said making you laugh as you wash your face, and another when you brush your teeth.

That feeling stays with you as the sun glistens through your kitchen window. One which adds a glow to the place, making the little smoke stains on the walls and the chips on the kitchen counter seem better, less noticeable—and less irritating.

You smirk as you wrap your hand around your mug—because is it too soon to wish him a good morning? Should you wait for him?

Sighing, rolling your eyes, you land on the dresser you were sprucing up in the place a dining table should be. Your eyes linger on it—teeth picking at the skin on your lip—just as it does so each time you come in this room.

A reminder once again that this place should be a home you’ve been building for years, and not just the last few months. There should be photos on the walls of a relationship playing out alongside family and friends, but those ones placed in between are still just empty.

Like so much of your home.

Taking a sip of your coffee, you drop your stare to the newspaper under the feet of the dresser. The stories were told in black and white splotches over in many shades, dotted around as you tested and checked to see what would make the old, worn thing look like something new. The same thing you’d somehow managed to get delivered through a smile and a sweet, please.

You had been, for so long, undecided on the shade.

Yet, as you gaze upon it now, your imagination begins to weave a vivid portrait. It conjures the image of what it might resemble should you succumb to the shade that's gradually painting itself in imaginary strokes.

Sliding your phone from your pocket, you open up your DMs.

Does butterscotch orange come in a paint type suitable for wood? It does. You at work today? Desperate to see me? Just looking to help someone shift paint they can’t sell. What you looking to paint, Rainy?

Taking another sip of your drink, the warmth kisses your palm similar to the temperature blooming in your cheeks from conversing with him again.

Choosing, instead of words, to snap a photo, knowing it'll be easier, simpler.

Watching it send, the little speech bubble appearing as your mind drifts to the hair above his lip, the facial hair along his jaw—the little patch you’d wanted to graze your thumb over.

You think of the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles; when he’d looked pleased to see you in the paint aisle—something akin to a modern-day meet cute you see on the TV.

You coming in today? If I can… gives me something to do this afternoon.

You bite your lip, considering it—whether it’s too forward to make a flirtatious comment. The two of you skirted around it last night, practically river dancing—not quite stepping over, but not quite retreating either.

I’ll get you it ready at the main desk. My hero, Frank.DIY Don’t push it.

It’s the third visit you’ve made, and while you gloss over the paint chippings on the door, you do notice the circular stains on the floor.

They’re brown, smudged slightly at the edges as though someone has, at one time, attempted to clean (whatever it was) quickly after it had appeared. It’s clear they had failed.

Your eyes scan over it, for a moment forgetting anything and everything.

Just existing in today's scent, which happens to be singed wood—chippings of it practically in the air—as the sound of an electrical saw starts up and begins screeching in some distant corner until you hear your name being called.

And it silences everything.

That voice could pull you from anything, you think.

A crisis, your thoughts, a spiral.

You’d heard his voice plenty all last night as you watched videos of him hanging shelves, answering questions likely sent to him on how best to prime a wooden handrail, and still, you weren't sure you were sick of his voice.

That, and DIY had honestly never sounded so hot.

After the shortest walk to the counter, a brief hello, a grin you wish you could try and smother a touch, you’re leaning on the counter. His eyes focused on you, watching every move you make as though looking anywhere else would be a crime.

“You got a Sharpie there?”

Frowning, you feel you can breathe easier when his eyes drop to the counter—rustling around the till area as you rest your elbow.

“Because I forgot mine and I think I should ask for a signature this time.”

Pausing, he slowly lifts his chin, then eyes. “Funny.”

Shrugging, you grin, watching him ring up the tin—occasionally smirking to himself, before shaking his head as you pay, your phone vibrating on the counter that you continue to ignore.

“You gonna be alright with that?”

Scrunching your nose, you pocket your phone and tilt the can on the counter. “Painting a dresser or carrying this to my car?”

Something sparkles in his eyes, a little shimmer. His mouth opening, likely ready to spill nothing but charm and flirtation again, when another voice cuts through—one gruffer, more tinged in age.

“Francisco, what you d—oh, I see.”

Your smile remains, even as you stare up at the older man—the one with wiry whites and spotted greys you’d seen sitting behind the counter on the day you left to get coffee with Francisco.

It’s notable, how smaller, and thinner the older man is—how he moves like he’s pained by each step until he slumps into a chair and puts on the brightest and biggest of smiles before offering his hand.

“The name’s Harry.”

You look at it, only briefly, flicking your eyes to Frankie who looks like he’s wishing the earth would open up at his feet and swallow him whole. A somewhat twisted, forced blank expression and the mildest of eye rolls follow when your hand slips inside Harry’s, offering your name.

“Thought it was Harold,” Frankie says, rather bitterly.

“You have to call me Harold, but she can call me Harry.”

Smirking, you bite your tongue, rolling your lips as you smooth down your blouse—trying not to make any more eye contact with the man you’d really come to see.

Sliding the paint closer to you, you offer a softer smile, one that is nothing short of kind. “It was lovely to meet you Harry, and I’ll see—“

“—Rainy.”

His voice cut through as the can slid from the counter, the sudden acknowledgement of the weight showing—likely scorched across your face as your arm drags down, shoulder going with it, just about saving it from the ground.

It’s only as you look up, do you find Frankie half over the counter, spotting the key rings and cart tokens rolling around the floor—the stand on its axis from his sudden movement.

So, is Rainy my name now?

You caught that?

I did 😏

I wasn’t thinking.

I have to ask.

Here we go.

Do you always wear the hat or is it a Frank.DIY thing? And is it Frank or Frankie or the newly learnt Francisco?

Whats wrong with my hat? And Frankie and Morales were taken.

Morales your surname? I feel I’ve hit a sore spot.

Yes. And you have but you can make it better.

How?

Meeting me for a very boring lunch this week.

You’re really twisting my arm. Which is mean. You saw the stress my shoulder had to endure today.

I tried to warn you. I’ll let you bring your Pinterest board and your saved Reels.

I fear you just want me for my organisational inspiration.

Can’t help you decide if I’m the man for your project if I don’t know what you’re after.

Fair, I guess I can meet you for a business lunch.

Would you be more into meeting me for lunch if it wasn’t a business lunch?

It depends on what kind of lunch we’re talking about.

I’m very badly trying to ask you out on a date.

Oh, that’s what you’re trying to do.

Unless I’ve read this wrong.

Nope, read it perfectly. I guess I have to confess to you that I really would love to go on a brunch date with you, Francisco.

Lunch date. Let’s not get too romantic. Don’t want you to fall head over heels and visit where I work twice in two days.

Has Harold told you how hilarious you are?

It’s nice—the place he’s chosen.

All washed in bright white, yellow splashes and pastel accents. Plants adorn as much of the walls and ceilings as humanly possible, with guitar-infused music softly playing as the door clicks into place behind you.

It's so nice, in fact, you almost want to live here. To spend an infinite amount of time brushing your thumb over the leaves to see which ones are real and which ones are very good fakes. So pretty that it’s the kind of place that if you weren’t looking for him at a table, you’d snap a photo of it all and send it to a friend.

But, as soon as your eyes land on him, he's the only photo you want to take.

White t-shirt, with a dark shirt thrown over the top, still very much all broad-shouldered and wide chest as he smooths his hand down as he stands.

The hat, one that you'd assumed would be a staple, is all but gone, curls at odd angles as though his fingers have been teasing them—tugging and pulling as the ends slightly frizz—as he moves around the table when you approach.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he grins, hesitancy thrumming before he must question himself, snaps himself back into place from dragging his eyes up and down you.

Then, he’s moving, gently—enough time to register he’s moving to hug you, and plenty of time to politely decline.

But you don’t.

Allowing his hand to slide over your waist, delicate, very much cautious and all but respectful, at the same time as his breath flutters over your cheek. You almost turn your chin, wishing to all of a sudden curl into it before his lips graze your skin, lashes fluttering before you feel him moving back.

And, fuck, the scent of his aftershave is still washing over you in thick waves. It does its best to slide up your nose and make a home there as heat rushes to your cheeks.

You almost turn, almost catch the last bit of his lips, eyes focused on his, holding, burning them in as you find yourself unable to tear away from it. Two people, swirling, completely lost in only the other—the rest of the world fading to a muted shade, nothing compared to the hue he exhumes in the centre of brightness and pops of colour.

A thing you turn over, unable to stop yourself from stealing stares as he pulls out your chair, before joining you by sitting opposite.

“Thought this was a safe bet, wasn’t sure what kind of lunch person you were.”

“More of a brunch person, honestly.”

He smirks, flicking his eyes up, even if his head is tilted down at the menu.

“It’s very nice—not been here before.”

A brow arched, he smiles—shyer, the beginning of the dimple appearing before he casts his eyes back down.

“What do you recommend, Francisco?”

You don’t miss his snort, the way he sticks his tongue in his cheek as he gives you that look—one that makes you want to keep flirting and testing him all at once. One that makes you clamp your jean-covered thighs together, but secretly hope he notices you doing so.

If he does, he doesn’t show it. Instead, using his index finger to point at various parts of the menu, recommendations falling, rolling—a shimmer in his eyes at certain parts, that makes it easy when someone comes over to ask for your order.

You suspect it’s a favourite, the one you’ve chosen. Something is written into the way he holds your gaze before he stumbles over his words, practically trips, to say his.

It’s only when you’re alone, do you rest your elbow on the table—the coldness of it rising up your skin, rooting you—as you lean your chin on your palm. “So, do I get my Pinterest boards out now or…?”

“Funny.”

You bite your tongue as you smile, staring, admiring. “So, outside of terrorising a man in his own shop, running an Instagram, what does Francisco DIY do?”

Shaking his head, he takes a sip of his water—a bead collecting, remaining on his lower lip for a ridiculously long time, before the tip of his tongue casts it away, and sweeps it from your view.

“My… my friend fights—like MMA. He stopped for a bit, but now he…”

You wait, let it form—let him decide what it is he wants to tell you and when, and how. Sliding your feet out under the table, stretching as you relax into the chair, finding his eyes fixed, concentrated.

“I go to some of his training.”

“Good at DIY and MMA training? Starting to wonder why you’re single, Butterscotch.”

He laughs, soft, rich. “Just… haven’t been looking to date.”

Nodding, you let out a heavy exhale. “I wasn’t either.”

His lips purse, twitch to the side, a smirk half forming somewhere in his cheeks as he leans over, elbow resting on the table, foot catching yours under the table.

Mirroring you entirely as the two of you just stare. And, normally, it would be weird. Odd. But, it doesn’t feel it. If anything, it makes you want to commit each crease from his smiles, each wisp of hair along his jawline that crawls up his cheeks—the patch that could be traced with your thumb, an almost heart shape left, ready to be stamped with a pair of lips.

Your eyes only pull from it when your drinks arrive—when the moment is broken by the real world—as you lean back, let your eyes move to your server, thanking them as you take your drink. And then, the two of you are alone.

“Might change my Instagram name.”

Brows lifting, he pauses his glass close to his lips. “Oh yeah, what to?”

“Rainier Grey—makes me sound elusive.”

Snorting, he shakes his head, sipping on his water before placing the glass down close to your hand. Fingers brushing against it, a thing which makes your eyes flick over your screen.

“I dare you.”

“You dare me?” you say. “How old are you?”

“A man too old for dares.”

You brush your index finger over the back of his fingers, lingering on it, noticing the way they flex as you do as if battling to take your hand in his.

Even if you’re determined to go halves, Frankie’s insistence beats you.

All ‘Don’t argue with me on this, alright?’ said in a tone deeper, more serious than you'd heard to date. And, it's hard not to let heat lick up your spine at the sound.

Even if he’s giving you kind brown eyes as you hold your hands up in defeat.

Smirking, you watch him pay, spotting the picture in his wallet of a boy with a missing-tooth smile almost as big as the man in front of you.

“Alright Morales, but next time it’s my treat.”

“Next time?”

Smirking, you bite your lower lip as you stand, grabbing your things. “Think you’ve earned it.”

Each step to the door feels heavy, a fluttering in your stomach—a grin that can’t be wiped, barely doused when you say goodbye to the people behind the counter.

It grows wider when he gets the door for you, the cooler, outside air creating a vortex of his aftershave all over again (that you hope finds a way to bury itself into your skin) when he opens it.

It’s odd, almost insane—the giddy way you feel as the two of you walk to your car. His fingers are so close to brushing yours, the distance to your little vehicle becoming shorter and shorter as you desperately wish for another few blocks.

Disappointment flares, trying to scratch out the happiness inside your stomach as you pause at the car, trying to smile, but finding it difficult.

Rubbing the back of his head, you watch him roll his lips. “I had a great time.”

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you nod, “Me too.”

“Won't have to wait long, you've promised me brunch.”

“Think I said I’d pay. But, if you want brunch, I’m down to blow your mind.”

You realise too late, mouth hanging open, the words hitting—landing in his ear as you watch him process them.

It’s sluggish, almost lagging, the way his face lights up, the way his eyes widen and his smile grows into something close to what you had across the small table—not tinged in any way by the upcoming goodbye.

“Well, if that’s—”

“Shut up,” you say, cutting him off, hand ready to push his arm, but you slide it around his waist.

Face close to his, bodies almost flush.

You watch him swallow, how his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he flicks his gaze from eye to eye.

Licking his lips, he smiles. “Can I kiss you?”

The moment you nod, he’s leaning—lips brushing over yours, fingers tightening on his waist as you move with him, all delicate, smooth, downright velvety as your other hand finds his neck. Feels his pulse against your palm, the warmth of him against your skin, before your lips part, deepening it, letting him have more, as much as he wants—

Then, he moves you. His palm meets your car, guiding you back until your spine meets the side of your vehicle, and he leaves another mark of him—thumb and four fingers—in the grunge the city throws at your car.

The other is the one he leaves pressed against your lips, all invisible, sweet and aching. Leaning in, your fingers find purpose on his neck, skating around, teasing a low curl as you lick into his mouth delicately.

All teasing, caressing, the arm around your waist tightening as the two of you remain almost flush against the car.

And it’s dizzying, all unexpected—but then, so is he.

More so, when you part—nose against nose, eyes opening to find his doing the same.

“I should…”

Your fingers slide, wiping his bottom lip before resting it on his chin, nail stroking against the hair there. “Okay.”

“I’d like to,” he begins, slowly stepping back, allowing cooler air to flow between where your bodies were pressed together, “Not wait to see you again—and, help you. With your project.”

Rolling your lips, you smile. “I’d like that too—both of them.”

“Alright.”

“Okay,” you smile. “Let me know.”

Nodding, he steps back up on the curb, hand wiping across his mouth.

You actually changed your handle.

Told you, I don’t back down from a dare

Guess I owe you one.

Can I cash it in at any moment?

As long as it’s appropriate, yes.

There goes my idea of daring you to strip in the shop and make out with a paint tin.

Have to just dream about that one.

Oh, I will Francisco.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy

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princessbellecerise · 11 months

Text

1 A.M

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | Bucky had a dark secret, and so did you. Both of you had hidden your desire for the other from your father, but one night on a kitchen table changes everything

warnings | dbf!bucky, smut, dracaphyllia, age gap, kitchen sex, oral (m. receiving), 18+ ONLY

this is an eighteen plus fic. minors please do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

It was 1 A.M when you ran into each other.

You were up because you couldn’t sleep, your body tired but your mind not letting you get a wink of rest. You were too busy stressing over miscellaneous things; such as work or your current situationship. You had tossed and turned all night and when it finally hit one o’clock, you decided to just go to the kitchen, hoping some water might pull you back to sleep.

Likewise, Bucky wasn’t getting much rest either.

He hadn’t really slept since the moment he closed his eyes, but unlike you it wasn’t because of stress. No, his predicament was more…unique, due to the fact that Bucky was simply just too excited to go to sleep.

His cock had been throbbing all night, and despite Bucky trying to his to soothe himself with his hand, it didn’t work. It wasn’t enough; not when what he really wanted was right down the hallways.

Bucky had been staying the night at your Dad’s place for a few nights, just until renovations on his own home got finished. That meant for a whole week, he had to be tortured with the fact that you were there, and Bucky couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The fantasies that he had about you were just that: fake. And at first, they were enough to get him through the night, his vivid imagination conjuring up things that would never happened in real life. Like you riding his cock, for instance. Or Bucky fucking you in the pool, that tight little swim suit you were always wearing stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet.

Normally, that was enough to satisfy him.

But not tonight.

Something about that night had him restless, unable to sleep due to his running thoughts. Bucky figured that eventually he’d have to fall asleep, but once it started to approach one o’clock he knew that wasn’t the case.

He wouldn’t be able to truly rest anytime soon, so he sighed and got out of bed, making his way into the kitchen when he surprisingly ran into you.

You were awake, and struggling as a matter of fact. You trying to reach the snacks that your dad placed on the top shelf of the pantry, but you were having trouble since it was so high up. You weren’t tall enough to reach it, so Bucky chuckled and decided to help you out.

“Here, let me doll.”

You jumped as his figure suddenly appeared behind you, warm chest pressing into your back and causing you to suck in a breath. Quickly, you turned around, just in time to come face-to-face with Bucky as he finished grabbing the snack.

He handed the chocolate chip cookies to you and wordlessly you took them, your mouth becoming dry as you stared into his blue eyes. You weren’t expecting to be so close to him, and it made your heart hammer in your chest as you giggled nervously and lowered your head.

“Thanks, Buck,” You said quietly, stepping away from him out of modesty. And for your own sanity, not trusting yourself to be so close when he was half naked. Not that you would ever tell him that; god save you from the humiliation of that conversation.

“No problem, sweetheart,” Bucky wore a sweet smile to mask his disappointment. He quite liked being against you, even if it didn’t help his already hard cock. “I take it you can’t sleep, either?”

Changing the subject would help distract him from the fact that you were only in a nightgown. Short and lacy—just how he liked it.

“Mhmm,” You hummed softy, nodding your head. Your hands rung in front of you nervously as you noticed his eyes raking over your body. “Been up for quite a while. I’ve been trying to sleep but my mind just won’t let me, you know?”

“Hm,” Bucky nodded, understanding exactly how you felt. “I feel ya. My thoughts have been driving me crazy, too. I feel like they’re gonna turn my brain to mush,” He said honestly, though he left the part where you were the main culprit.

Chuckling a little bit, you related and then you offered him a cookie as you guys walked over to the kitchen table. Bucky took it, and he noticed how nervous you seemed to be as you stood in front of him. Eyes darting back-and-forth, not looking at him. Fingernails digging into your skin.

It was obvious that something was on your mind. And curiously, Bucky wanted to know.

“Hey, doll. You alright?” He tried to keep his voice lower now that you were closer to your dad’s room. Sam may have been a sound sleeper, but he didn’t want to risk him waking up right now.

“Hm?” You looked positively distracted. Your body was flushed, and though you tried not to, you just couldn’t help the hammering in your lower regions as you looked at Bucky. “Oh—oh no, I’m fine. Just still a little tired, that’s all.”

“You sure?” Bucky wasn’t convinced. He could see the way that you were slightly leaning away from him, almost if you were afraid to touch him. And you were doing that thing with your lip, biting it in a way that made Bucky go crazy.

God, you looked so good. It took everything in Bucky not to take you right then and there.

“Yeah,” Your tone wasn’t at all convincing and you knew that. But you couldn’t help it—you needed to lie your way out of this situation before you ended up as a puddle near Bucky’s feet. “Yeah, everything’s absolutely perfect. One hundred percent, I just think I need to get back to…”

Your voice suddenly trialed off when you made eye contact with Bucky’s sweats, your mouth feeling as dry as cotton due to the erection that was pressing against them.

You felt your whole face flush when you noticed that he was hard, and big which had you gulping a little. Suddenly, the room left like it was spinning. And of course, it only got worse when Bucky suddenly reached out to touch you.

“Are you sure, Doll? You look a little…” His calloused hands came to stroke your arms in a comforting way. Or at least, it was meant to look that way but really, Bucky just wanted an excuse to touch you. To feel your soft skin without you turning away.

And it worked—you let him touch you but not without trembling a little bit, his touch causing your skin to feel like it was on fire. You opened your mouth, but no words could come out as you looked at him.

And how could they? Everything you wanted to say was absolutely off limits. You couldn’t exactly open your mouth and tell Bucky that the way he was barely dressed right now made you wet. You couldn’t tell him that you had been weak in the knees for him ever since he had walked into the kitchen with no shirt on.

After all, Bucky was like a second father to you. You had known him ever since you were nineteen and you’d bet everything that you had that he didn’t see you the way you saw him. Sam’s little girl—that’s all you were to him. An innocent little college student that he’d never touch that way.

You couldn’t tell him that. So, you settled on lying even though you knew it would kill you.

“I…I’m fine. I’m sure. I think…I think all I need is to go back to my room and get some rest,” You stuttered, trying to convince him that you just needed to lie down.

But Bucky didn’t move. Nor did he think you were telling him the truth, which meant he wasn’t going to let you leave until he knew you were okay.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want you to go just yet if you’re really not alright,” He frowned, and his concern for you only made you wetter. “You know if there’s something going on in that pretty little head of yours, you can tell me, right? Anything you need. Anything at all.”

He stared at you and you shivered as he all but whispered those words in your ear. You barely even noticed how close he had gotten to you until it was too late, and suddenly you were staring into his eyes with your lips trembling.

Tears seemed to gather in your own and you weren’t sure what it was about that moment, but you just couldn’t hold back your feelings any longer. You had to get them off of your chest, even if it ran the risk of him rejecting you or telling your dad. You had to tell Bucky how you felt, because if you didn’t—you were afraid you might burst.

“I…” This was it. You were going to spill. “I-I need you Buck,” Your voice came out as a whimper and a tear fell down your face as you looked at him, the dam inside of you finally breaking. “I…I want you inside me so bad, it hurts. I—fuck. I tried to hold it back for so long, cause I know how you feel about me. But I swear, I didn’t mean to. I just…I just need you.”

Bucky felt his whole world still as the words tumbled from your mouth like a waterfall. You couldn’t help yourself as you spilled every thought he only dreamed of hearing from your lips. You told him everything Bucky had been fantasizing about for years, and for a moment, he thought that it was just another one—a dream that his cruel mind had conjured up.

He didn’t think this was real life until suddenly, he realized that his hand was still on your body, grounding him to reality. Prompting him to realize that this was very much real, and you were crying in front of him because you were so horny and so ashamed.

It felt like your whole world was crumbling, sure that you had done it now. You had certainly just ran off your dad‘s best friend, and the only other man that loved you. Surely, the next step was for Bucky to reject you and then go tell your dad everything that you had just confessed.

…But he didn’t.

Bucky didn’t do any of that, and instead, you were in for the shock of your life as he suddenly used his hand to grab your face, making you look at him through your tears.

Everything was blurry, but the smile on his face was the one thing that was clear enough for you to see.

“Sweetheart,” Utter relief flooded his voice, and Bucky could’ve sworn he’d never been happier. “You don’t know how fucking long I’ve waited for you to say that.”

“Wha—”

You were suddenly cut off when Bucky decided to slam his lips against yours, silencing your words and your worries at once. His rough mouth moved against yours, and now it was your turn to question your reality as he kissed you.

You couldn’t believe that this was happening. The person you had desired most in the world was finally reciprocating the same emotions you had. And to be honest, it overwhelmed you, making you slow to kiss him back at first.

You had to take a second to even gather your thoughts, but once you did, you swore you melted.

You fell into the kiss with Bucky like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like kissing him was something you were born to do, and your mouths moved in sync as Bucky groaned and wrapped his hands around your body.

He steadied you as he backed you into the kitchen table, the legs creaking a little bit and causing you to pull away. You looked at him worriedly, eyes glancing down the hall to where your dad was sleeping.

“Buck—we gotta be quiet,” You suddenly reminded him, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. “My dad’s right down the hall. I don’t want him to wake up.”

That was the last thing you needed, and Bucky knew it, even though he was disappointed to pull away from your lips.

“Sorry baby doll,” He whispered sweetly in your ear which caused you to forgive him in an instant. You wrapped an arm around his neck and right before he kissed you again, he said, “I’ll try to be more careful next time.”

Your reply was quickly swallowed by his lips, but you didn’t care to speak much anyways. All you wanted in that moment was to devour him and savor the taste of sweet, delicious forbidden fruit. It tasted so good on your tongue that you couldn’t wait to sample what else he had in store for you.

And as if Bucky could read your mind, you were suddenly gasping as his fingers came to play with the skin of your thighs. He trailed them up so that he could get to the bottom of your nightgown, and every place that he touched left fire in its wake.

The flames that licked at your body had never felt so good, and in that moment you were praising yourself for choosing the right night attire.

The lacy nightgown only made it easier for Bucky to gain access to what he really wanted, your cotton covered pussy that he could already feel the heat radiating off of. It was easy enough for him to trial his fingers towards it, ghosting over the fabric and loving the way you moaned in his mouth.

Bucky swore he couldn’t get enough of your lips but much as he wanted to keep kissing you, his throbbing erection had him pulling away and practically clawing at his sweats to free himself. It was almost painful how hard he had gotten in the last few minutes, his cock standing straight up and slapping against his belly when he pulled on his sweats.

You watched with hungry eyes as he gave it a few pumps, loving the soft groans that escaped his lips.

You both were trying your very best to be quiet as you couldn’t imagine the reaction your daddy would have if he found you and Bucky fooling around at 1 A.M. Bucky imagined that Sam would quite literally lose his mind, and the thought had him smirking as he crawled closer to you.

You were desperate to feel him, he could see it in your eyes. Bucky could see the way you were practically crying because you wanted him so bad, the tears in your eyes only making him harder.

You were so desperate, and it was wonder you made it this long as your pussy throbbed.

You knew that the cotton panties you were wearing were soaked by now, and you couldn’t wait for Bucky to pull them down and fuck you like you deserved. You ached for him so bad, the longing almost killing as Bucky reconnected your lips and stood between your legs.

You could feel his cock poking at your clothed entrance as he kissed you; almost as desperate as you were—if not more. After all, it had been Bucky’s fantasy of this exact same situation that kept him awake in the first place. And now that he finally had what he always wanted, Bucky couldn’t stand to wait any longer.

He needed to be inside of you, and he needed to do it now.

You seemed to agree as you allowed him to pull away and finally get rid of the one thing that was separating the two of you. In an instant, he had tugged down your panties and brought them to your ankles, slipping them off before carelessly throwing them somewhere on the floor.

Mentally, you made a note to pick those up before Sam woke up in the morning. But right now, that was a very far away thought in your mind. Right now, the only thing that you were focused on was the way Bucky’s cock brushed against your entrance, teasing you so bad that you actually started crying.

“Please—Buck. I need you,” Pathetic tears began to roll down your face as you looked at him, just begging for Bucky to fuck your desperate cunt. You grinded your pussy against nothing, showing him just how much you needed the friction. And fuck—you were so wet that Bucky could see your pussy gleaming even in the dim light.

He smirked.

“That’s it—go ahead and cry, little girl. I’m gonna fuck those tears out of you anyways,” Bucky then growled in your ear. And not even a few seconds later, your deepest and darkest desire came alive as he slid into you.

As if on que, both you and Bucky let out low moans and you held onto him as he began to push himself deeper inside of you. His thick cock provided a delicious stretch, one that had you whining before he even bottomed out. Likewise, Bucky had screwed his eyes shut at the feeling of your tight pussy, utter ecstasy filling his veins.

Fuck—you felt like heaven and everything else he had dreamed of. As a matter of fact, your pussy felt even better than that and it wasn’t long before Bucky found himself speeding up, really fucking into you. Just like you wanted him to.

His hips snapped into yours, and you gasped when suddenly his cock was plunging as deep as it could go. Over and over, the table shook as he pounded into you, his balls smacking into your ass.

Random tableware began clattering but you could barely hear it over the sound of yours and Bucky’s moans mixing together.

You tried to be quiet; you really did. But with the pleasure that he was bringing you it felt damn near impossible to not scream out. He was hitting that special spot inside of you just right, making you see stars every time his cock dragged against it. It had you struggling to hold back your cries and eventually, you found yourself crying again.

On top of you, Bucky loved it. He loved seeing the sweet tears run down your face, the sobs of pleasure that he eventually had to cover with his own mouth. He couldn’t risk Sam waking up; not now. Not when he could feel your pussy clenching around him, letting him know that you were close. He didn’t want to be robbed of the moment you creamed around his cock, so he kept you silent until you physically couldn’t take it anymore.

You moaned in his mouth as finally you hit your peak, your orgasm causing your body to shake and your walls clamp down on Bucky’s cock.

The delicious feeling had him groaning as you shuddered underneath him, a quiet sound that indicated his own release was near. Bucky sped up, fucking you dumb as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The lewd sounds that your pussy was making only baited him even further, edging him until Bucky’s release finally came about.

As much as you would have loved for him to cum inside of you, you both knew it would cause too much of a mess. So, right before he spilled himself, Bucky quickly pulled out and watched in astonishment as you got to your knees and quickly took him in your mouth.

The feeling of your tight lips wrapped around him had Bucky coming in no time, holding your hair between his fingers and groaning as you played with his balls.

You looked up at him and in the kitchen lights, Bucky swears that you’ve never looked sexier with your tits out and your mouth around him. Like a good girl, you made sure to get every last drop from him before you finally stood up, cheekily showing him that you had swallowed.

“Fuck—” Bucky grabbed you and pulled you close to him, your heavy panting mixing in with his. He kissed you, and when he pulled away you could tell that he was surprised to taste himself on your tongue.

“Good?” You teased him a little bit and Bucky let out a breathless chuckle as he shook his head.

“S’alright,” He simply shrugged before giving you a wink. “But I think I’d much rather taste you, doll.”

Just like before, a familiar heat spread to your cheeks and down to your core. Involuntarily, your legs clenched together and Bucky watched as you took a shy glance towards the hallways before looking back at him.

“How about we arrange that then?”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #dbf!bucky #winter soldier #winter solider smut #winter solider x reader

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oraclemoontarot · 4 months

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pick a photo : what do people like about you? - tarot reading ★

disclaimer - these are general readings, only take what resonates and leave the rest!! this reading is only meant to be for fun ♡

from top -> 1 - 2

from bottom -> 3 - 4

pile 1

you're someone who makes people happy - your family and/or friends may find you emotionally comforting, and see you as a great friend or companion. they see you as generous, caring and down-to-earth. you may also be a homebody or someone who likes taking care of others, possibly cooking for them.

with you around, people feel a sense of zen - a comfort and a sense of peace that is hard to find in most people. you may also be a dreamer or you live in your head a lot.

overall, you are someone who is persistent - you are not the type to give up easily especially when it involves the people you care about.

pile 2

you're someone who makes decisions quickly, you're smart and witty. you have clear boundaries and aren't afraid to speak up when something or someone bothers you. you may have gone through a huge change in either your life or your character. but you're at peace with yourself and you're someone who is also comforting to be around - you give people happiness.

you also have a high moral compass and might even put yourself and possibly others to a high standard. you may also have a lot of experience or are well educated. people respect you but also enjoy your company.

pile 3

people see you as being courageous and adventurous. you bring happiness to those around you - people feel comfortable with you around, they also see you as being someone who is fortunate, maybe with the friends and family you have or with the things in which you have attained.

you're compassionate and full of warmth and kindness. you may be seen as a counsellor - maybe you listen well and provide good advice. you have a mother-like energy regardless of your gender as you're nurturing and caring.

you're confident and know your self-worth. you're also social and quite popular. you may make friends naturally - with ease.

pile 4

people see you as being a dreamer. they may see you as someone who is cute, with a child-like nature to you and they like that about you. it may be as if this is your first life and you’re experiencing everything for the first time. you probably romanticise your life and your imagination might be very vivid, they love that you approach life with excitement.

you might be able to express yourself with words well and you tend to be an honest person, they love that you enjoy conversations and they like how you use words. you should be careful as your words hold a lot of power though - just as they can motivate others and have positive influence, it can also have the power to manipulate others despite your intentions.

people also see you as someone who might have trouble juggling between relationships or a work-life balance, at least in the current moment - you might be really busy or have too much on your mind to keep your ducks in a row. but they like that you reflect on yourself and know what you need to work on. you’re constantly working on becoming a better version of you and they respect that.

#tarot #tarot reading #what people like about you #how people see you #free tarot #tarot community #pick a card #pick a pile #daily tarot #pac reading #general reading #general tarot reading

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astrumark · 11 months

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── YOU GOT ME SLIPPIN', ACTIN' LAZY ★.

PAIRING: aemond targaryen x female reader.

SUMMARY: you see aemond with his hair up for the first time, and it is distracting.

WARNINGS: fluff, curse words, suggestive themes.

WC: 1.4K

You believe you are having a very vivid dream, that you are still wrapped in silky sheets and foolishly thinking you already started the day. This could mean you were late to your daily practices with the one-eyed prince, and that could simply not do. He would be beyond displeased. But the sight in front of you could have easily been the fruit of your imagination.

When you moved to the Red Keep after your betrothal with Prince Aemond for proper courting, you were astonished by his fervent desire for you to begin to train with the sword and to learn self-defense. Personally.

"I cannot have my future wife being defenseless, can I?" He said. "As much as I love protecting you, my darling, it's beyond my power to guarantee I will always be around."

You cherished it. Your first encounters as betrotheds, like is commonly done, to walk around the gardens or drink tea during the afternoon was filled with awkward silence and useless small talk, but not the training.

It was a lot more smooth since there was a purpose to your meeting. You moved your bodies around and got too occupied to talk beyond the necessary, and somehow, it seemed to improve your relationship more than any other activity you have tried before. It's a fun way to bond before the wedding and you felt yourself getting closer to the prince each day. The air between you rapidly shifted for one of mutual respect and slight teasing.

And it was rewarding as well, to test and improve your body and abilities. The soreness of your muscles became pleasant, and you have grown to feel more motivated and stronger, looking forward to it each dawn.

Your only complaint is that it was too early, having to be awake even before the sun was entirely up. To look at your window and see a gray sky was simply distasteful. Aemond claimed it was necessary to avoid undesirable attention and comments. Usually, it was only the two of you and very few passing servants.

And this is how you would always find yourself in the chilly training yard first thing after you'd awake, a mist often covering the spot in the early hour.

The same mist that makes you doubt your eyes, but when the tall man stops just a few inches away from you, there is no mistaking it. Aemond has his hair up in a ponytail.

And he looks fabulous. You are unable to avert your eyes, never have seen him with any other hairstyle besides the half-up one. His angled face full on display makes your stomach tingle with excitement.

You could almost visualize him in an extravagant armor competing in tourneys if only he liked it. It made him look like a warrior, but you also noticed the intimacy of it. You could see him with his hair in such a style in your private chambers during the morning as well, chest exposed and thin sheets wrapped around his waist after a passionate night. Warmth flooded your body, and suddenly, all your sleepiness disappeared.

"Good morrow, my lady," He says quietly. "Slept well?"

"Yes, my Prince, thank you. What about you?" You bring your attention back to the table full of throwing knives in front of you.

"As usual." He hums. "Would you like to try these first?"

"Yes, please."

"Choose one or two and come." He orders, already placing himself near the target.

You watch him from afar for a minute, completely amused, you don't think you have ever considered him as handsome as right now, your heart threatening to burst out of your chest any minute.

Aemond sets himself behind you as you position yourself as he taught you before, holding the other knife for you. You are grateful for his mercy since it was much easier to resist the urge to stare at him when he was out of your sight.

You aim the knife at the wooden target and it flies through the air, landing close to the center, but it trembles terribly and falls to the ground.

"It didn't stick because you're standing too close," Aemond explains. "When it spins, if the blade is angled down when it falls, it indicates you need to step back. Half of getting the knife to hit the target is about where you are standing."

You listen attentively and try a new stance. This time, the knife lands on the right of the middle and sticks. You grin.

"Good, now let's try something else."

Your face falls slightly. "Already?"

"You seem to handle the knives nicely, although you still need practice. But you are awful at hand-to-hand combat, and so it must be our priority."

"You flatter me."

"Come and fight me, my lady." Aemond teases going to the middle of the yard, bouncing on his feet.

"You won't be as thrilled for it once we're wed."

He rolls his eye, and you mirror his stance. But it's distracting, the way his ponytail swings with each of his jumps, almost hypnotizing.

The sudden punch in your jaw makes you stumble backward as you wince and rub your cheek.

"What was that?" Aemond's voice is thick and intimidating as his slender fingers tap lightly at your cheek as if to wake you up. "Are you still asleep?"

"No."

"Then pay attention, you didn't even try to block it." His voice lowers. "Did I hurt you?"

You shake your head. He never does, his blows are weak, but warning. You've hurt yourself more seriously falling to the ground or striking him than from receiving any of his punches. He's awfully careful.

You go back to your positions, and though you do not stand still as before, you know you are being slow. When Aemond spins, aiming to elbow you, the ends of his hair brush your face, and the smell of lemon verbena soap invades your nostrils, once more distracting you. Unfortunately, you lose the timing to move away and try to protect yourself from his strike in the clumsiest way, flinching as you do so. Not necessarily effective, and most definitely not what you have been learning for weeks.

Aemond says your name exasperatedly, sending you a bewildered glance. "We've been past this."

"I know."

"This has not been an issue for you recently."

"I know." You repeat with a grunt.

"What is happening?" He asks.

"Nothing is happening, my Prince."

"You are distracted," He affirms. "Leave these thoughts behind, focus only on the movements of your body. You will notice that with our practices your body almost knows what to do on its own if you permit it."

You try to follow his advice, and it works for a while. Your footwork becomes meticulous, avoiding Aemond's offenses gracefully, your arms solidly shielding your face and chest.

With the effort, beads of sweat start to cover Aemond's forehead and nose. And your eyes are drawn to his hairline, especially to the wavy little hairs sticking to his skin. Adorable.

You realize you have lost balance a second too late, the twat successfully tackling you to the ground. Your back hits the dirt floor with a thud, and you lose your breath for a second. He hovers over you, pinning both your arms with his hands. A displeased noise leaves his mouth.

Another perk of training is the proximity. In no other context, other than fighting would be acceptable for betrotheds to stand so close, to find themselves pressed like this. The touches always held more importance than they should, a taste for what's yet to come.

"Foolish mistake." He releases your arms. "What is it? What's bothering you?"

You don't answer, and your attention drifts to his hair once again, the ponytail is falling to the side and very close to your face. You cannot control the urge to touch it anymore and your hand moves, the strands are softer than you previously thought, but it's also thin. You twirl it around your fingers as concentrated as a babe with their new toy.

Realization crosses Aemond's eye, and he chuckles wryly, pressing his body even closer to yours, making you feel all the outlines of his body. You whimper. Cunt.

"Is it the hairstyle?" He asks teasingly.

You wet your lips, throat closing up. He holds your chin, making you look directly at his violet iris. "Do you like it?"

You nod. "A great amount."

He grins wickedly, and he leans his face dangerously close, your noses brushing. "Then I will make sure to wear it around you more often, wife."

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x you #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond fluff

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littlemissmanga · 12 days

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The Slow Stretch

Pairing: Wrecker x f!Reader

Warnings: This is all spice. Rated E for explicit. There's no plot. Barely a framing device. Size kink, like really that's 90% of it, praise kink is also strong in this one. 18+ only please, if you don't like smut please don't interact but do not put a label on this!

Also, lazy writing but Tumblr wouldn't let me use bullets so I apologize this isn't as smooth as some of my other stuff. It is still pretty delicious, if I do say so myself.

W/C: 1,713

Summary: I had a very vivid thought about what a session with Wrecker would look like if you had a harder time taking him. Guys this thot consumed me and then I imagined how he'd encourage you through that and what soft praise would sound like coming from him ... and I became so unwell I had to get this written. It's pure filth. Enjoy.

Imagine sitting on Wrecker’s lap, three of his fingers buried in your cunt. He doesn’t move them, doesn’t curl them to make you see stars. He’s learned that’s how you get too overstimulated too quick.

But he has to prepare you, to make you come just enough that your tight walls can relax enough to accept his much larger size.

So he just holds you close on his lap, knuckles deep in your pussy as he coos at you to relax.

“I got ya, pretty girl,” he says, his large, warm hand rubbing soothingly on your lower stomach, pressing down just a little. It wasn’t much at all, but it was enough to force you further down on his fingers, the calloused tips now brushing mind numbingly against a spot that makes your vision blur. “Don’t clench, baby. Keep them muscles nice an’ relaxed for me. You can do it, I know you can.”

You don’t want to disappoint him, so you focus as hard as you can, concentration cutting through the fuzzy pleasure vibrating through your core as you force yourself to unclench your muscles and melt into his warm, broad chest behind you.

“Tha’s it. That’s perfect, sweetheart.” His other hand comes down to draw gentle yet firm circles directly on your clit, forcing bolts of electricity through you. “One more. Just gotta give me one more an’ I think I can fit.”

You shiver on him, around him as his relentless assault on your clit gives you no other choice than to surrender to the pleasure as he rips it from your body … leaving you perfectly boneless and ready for him.

“Please, Wreck, please. Wanna feel full.”

With a deftness you’ve come to expect from Wrecker, he presses his fingers deeper, pushing against that tantalizing spot just once more before replacing them with his cock. He pushes in slowly, pulling you back so your head rests on his shoulder. He can see your face now, his eyes never leaving it, alert for any hint of discomfort even as he groans deep at the incredible way your walls constrict around him as he lowers you onto him.

Your back arches off him, your legs curling instinctively to give him more room, to spread yourself further to ease his progress. You vaguely remember you need to relax, but the stretch of him everywhere inside you, pressing not just against one pleasurable spot but all of them at once … It’s involuntary the way you convulse around him, the pleasure from one area flaring up before the pleasure from another can even fade.

Never before have you understood what it meant to be so deliciously full. You lose coherent thought, your entire being focused on experiencing the sensations coursing through your nerves.

Wrecker pauses as he all but bottoms out, just a few inches unable to sit inside you comfortably. Doesn’t matter. All he can focus on is breathing. The way your walls undulate around him, the way he can feel the intense pleasure ricochet through your body and into his threatens to push him over the edge.

“Shhh, pretty girl … need you to relax. I don’t wanna end this too soon, d’you?”

You whimper and shake your head back and forth dramatically. Still trapped in a hazy fog, forming words is beyond you but you need to make your immense displeasure at the idea of him leaving you empty and wanting after pushing you over the edge of heaven known.

“Tha’s good. So take a deep breath for me.” Again, his hands came to rub soothingly against you, this time trailing along your sides from your knee to your ribs and back again. You could feel Wrecker’s chest expand with each deep breath, a warm encouragement for you to do the same. So you did. Over, and over, until the tension slowly leeches from your muscles.

Soon, the desperation fades as well. But the pleasurable haze does not. It leaves you pliant and dazed on Wrecker’s lap. You remain draped back over him, but now your limbs hang limp. You trust him to keep you upright.

He moves your legs outside his own, spreading you wide around him. Looking down, he can see how wet and puffy your lips are, so red and swollen around him. He groans into your shoulder and feels his cock twitch inside you. You cry out instantly, but don’t tense beyond a quick pulse he could tell you couldn’t control.

“Take me so good, sweetheart. Knew you’d be able ta do it.”

You hum in contentment. This is what you were craving when you approached Wrecker earlier. It wasn’t just to make the most out of your precious alone time. But a bone-deep need to be consumed by him. And now you were.

“You okay? Don’ go quiet on me now.”

A gentle press of his knuckles — still a little wet from your juices — turns your head to face Wrecker, a gentle smile trying to hide the glimmer of concern in his eyes.

“M’fine,” you manage to mumble. You decide actions are easier, so you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, lips brushing his sensitive skin there and curling into a smile at the choked sound he makes in response. “So fine. So full. ‘T’s perfect.”

“Good.” He pushes your legs together, mindful of the strain he must have put on you keeping you spread open. The movement draws a prolonged moan from you, but it’s gentle enough to keep you from getting desperate again. His thumbs run firm strokes against the top insides of your thighs before circling around your middle and holding you to him.

He knows it won’t be long before the pressure that’s blissing you out now will turn to pain soon. The constant stimulation wears you out quickly. That’s why he loves when you get like this — needy not for how he can take you, but just for him. He craves getting to hold you close and feel you surround him just as much as he sees you crave him filling you to your breaking point. A small thrill runs through him, knowing only he can make you feel this full, this good.

Eventually, once your cunt has completely relaxed around him, when your eyes have closed and even your pleasant little hums have quieted, Wrecker brings his hand once again to your clit. This time, he keeps his strokes gentle, coaxing your next orgasm from you. “Doin’ so good for me. Lettin’ me play with ya an’ stretch you out like this.”

For once Wrecker’s voice is subdued. He’s not whispering, but his gentle rasp is the softest you’ve ever heard him before. It rumbles through you, waking you slowly from the foggy, trance-like state you fell into. Without thinking, you shift your hips, trying to catch that slight tickle that made your sensitive flesh tingle.

And then you do. His rough thumb catches on the hood of your clit, making you clench all at once around him. Your hands fly to his forearms that are caging you in on either side of your hips, squeezing at the intensity you’re feeling.

“Hold on to me all ya need. I got ya.” Wrecker’s free hand flexes under your thigh as his other continues its almost painfully gentle ministrations.

“R-right there,” you breathe, knowing Wrecker is out of patience and you are out of time. With a hum, Wrecker focuses his attention repeating the motion to your exact request. But he keeps his pace smooth and controlled. He knows this is gonna be intense for you. So he’s gonna be as gentle as he can.

The slow, steady push combined with how deliciously Wrecker fills you guides you to the edge of what you know will be an intense orgasm. His steady strokes leaving no question to the exact moment your body will be pushed over. Even so, you’re still unprepared when it happens.

“Let me feel you, sweetheart.”

Every since inch of your body tenses as you seize in pleasure. The walls of your cunt spasm harshly, simultaneously pulling Wrecker ever deeper and pushing him out all at once.

You can barely feel your body. All you know is the bliss that wraps every inch of you in its embrace.

But Wrecker can definitely feel your body. Can feel the way your walls threaten to strangle him and he would happily welcome it at this rate. His hips begin finally thrusting into you as his thumb continues its assault on your clit, noticing the way you jump at each pass.

“WRECK” The cry is ripped from your throat as a wall hits you.

But Wrecker’s attention is pulled by the feel of water hitting his legs. He curses when he looks down to see he’s soaked. “Kark I love when you squirt all over me.”

You can only moan as he fucks you hard now, seeking his release as your body finally offers absolutely no resistance. Absently, you can feel the way you drip around him. Delight zings the edges of your consciousness as you realize to yourself, I was able to take him.

The indulgent satisfaction only intensifies, melting into a lava that crawls through your veins as Wrecker grunts once more into your neck and after two more thrusts, presses himself as deep as he can get to come inside you.

Neither of you move for a moment, too overstimulated and sore. Soon, though, Wrecker wraps you in his arms and, as slowly as he can, pulls himself from you, earning several shivers and whimpers. He coos and presses kisses to the side of your face and forehead at each one to soothe the sting.

Finally, when he’s completely out, you both groan in unison. You can feel the surge of his cum leaking out of you, cooling the abused flesh of your hole. And based on the angle of his eyes, he’s watching it drip out of you on to the floor below.

“I’ll get ya cleaned up,” he offers in a hoarse voice.

You tighten your grip on his arms. “Just … just hold me a little more?”

You can feel his lips stretch against the top of your head. “’Course. Long as you need.”

Taglist: @dreamie411 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @wolffegirlsunite

@secondaryrealm @idontgetanysleep @multi-fan-dom-madness @dystopicjumpsuit @sinfulsalutations

@sunshinesdaydream @wizardofrozz @anxiouspineapple99 @dhawerdaverd @mythical_illustrator

Divider art by @pinkiemme, divider by @freesia-writes

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb wrecker #wrecker #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x you #wrecker x reader #wrecker x you #spicy fic #clone thirsting #size kink go brrr #praise kink go brrr

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bokutosmochi · 1 year

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THE RETURN OF THE KINGS ♡ GOJO SATORU featuring adoptive son!fushiguro megumi

gojo satoru x fem!reader

ingredients? after weeks upon weeks of worrying about your boyfriend and your adoptive son's whereabouts, they finally come home.

what’s it? fluff

allergen warning/s? n/a

sugar level? 1.2k

regulars? @tokyometronetwork

parlor’s note? sorry i'm more than a few days late. i was a little busy then felt sick.

anyways

DADDY'S HOMEEEEEEEE

bon appetit

"c'mon, gimme a hug megs." the white haired sorcerer grinned at his adoptive child of sorts, only for the young boy to grimace, clearly not fond of the idea. "why do i have to do that?"

"i'll teleport us inside the apartment." was gojo's reply. he flashed his son an innocent grin and bat of his eyelashes.

"why don't we just open the door?" he grumbled.

if he was being honest with himself, he'd know exactly why gojo wanted a hug. he was stuck in the prison realm - a place where time does not pass - for nineteen days; but nineteen days that felt like eternity.

gojo simply missed megumi.

of course he missed gojo too. underneath sukuna's influence, he was relieved to see that gojo was okay once he was unsealed.

but gojo didn't need to know that in such detail. he's sure that a teary eyed and wavering voiced "i'm glad you're back." would be louder than if he had a long winded speech on the subject. it'd also be louder than a hug on their apartment's doorstep.

"it's one in the morning. your mom's sleeping. we might wake her if we open the door." she needs some sleep. knowing her, she hasn't been able to get a lot of those since you and i stopped updating her and replying to her texts.

and he'd be correct. you weren't a jujutsu sorcerer. you didn't even know much about sorcery as per gojo. all you knew was that it was a dangerous job and there's a big chance of your boyfriend and your son not coming back to you. that's why you wanted them to update you whenever they could; just so you have that assurance that they're still alive, but it's been a long time since you had that. gojo hasn't been able to text you since he got sealed, and megumi when sukuna took over his body.

you've been worried sick. losing sleep wondering if you lost your two favorite boys in the world at the same time.

"fine." megumi sighed. when he put it that way, it was hard to turn him down.

he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around gojo's midsection and in a flash, the both of them were in the safety of the apartment's living room.

"go change, then get some sleep. you've been through a lot."

that was what gojo did as well, damn near tearing up when he saw your resting figure in front of his eyes. this time, he was not dreaming, he was not imagining better days with you; this time, you were actually there in the flesh.

he laid in bed with as minimal movement as possible as to not disturb you, hugged you close to his chest and drifted off to sleep after pressing a much needed kiss to your forehead and burying his face into your hair.

***

you've had the best sleep of your life since satoru and megumi left for that mission in shibuya, though it may have something to do with your dream.

in this dream, it was like you had satoru in your arms, safe and sound. with how much you've been thinking about him and your son, you have had these dreams frequently, but there's something different about this one.

it's much more vivid. it was like you could smell him under your nose. the scent that's musky and sweet and clean; that scent that reminds you of home. you could feel him, the smoothness of his skin, the temperature of him, the feeling of his tight black shirt. you could hear his soft breathing, calm, deep, and utterly relaxed. and you could see him in crystal clear hd. every faint freckle and mole he had on his face, his exposed neck and collarbones. you remembered him like you've been staring at him unceasingly for the last year, like he never left, and you were to retain every single one of his features.

only he was there. your eyes widened when you realized that fact. it wasn't a dream.

"oh my god," you murmured, running a gentle hand through his messy, battle-tossee hair, making sure to not wake him, then his rosy cheeks, then his plump lips, as if you were making sure that he's actually there and you aren't hallucinating him.

and he is. my god, he is. you tenderly kissed his forehead before carefully slipping out of his arms. after all, you were missing two boys.

you opened the door, not bothering to close it since you'd be returning to the room in a few minutes. you just had to make sure than your two men were there.

you slowly turned the knob to megumi's room, your heart swelling in your chesy when you saw the black haired sorcerer laying on his bed, face without the tension that you've always been worried were glued to his features.

you padded over to him, doing the same thing as you did to satoru. brushing the hair from his face and kissing his forehead.

"get some sleep, megs."

when he recovers as best as he can from whatever horrors he has faced in the last month, you'll be sure to treat him and take him somewhere he wants to be -- like a museum or aquarium, if he wanted. and satoru too, of course.

satoru who had a pout on his lips right behind you.

you almost jumped a foot in the air in surprise, but you were able to recover quickly and throw yourself into his waiting arms.

his touch not leaving you, he dragged you out of your son's bedroom and into yours.

"why'd you leave me?" he crossed his arms on his chest and furrowed his eyebrows making you laugh.

you missed his clinginess, his shenanigans so much.

you cradled his face in your hands and pressed a kiss to his lips. when you pulled away, you didn't leave an inch of space between you. a mere centimeter would be more accurate. "i'm sorry. wanted to check in on megumi too."

despite satoru's unaccepting hmph! he still leaned in to kiss you, pulling away a microscopic amount. "you could've just checked in on him later."

you pecked his lips again, keeping the same amount of distance as you did earlier; not a lot. "i wanted to check on him while you were still sleeping."

following the pattern established, he kissed you fleetingly again before speaking. "do i look like i'm asleep to you?"

surrendering, you laughed. it was music to satoru's ears, especially now he's gone so long without hearing it. "i guess you're right, i'm sorry."

satoru pulled you in tight so you were chest to chest, not even the thinnest piece of paper could get in between the two of you, yet for some reason, you and your boyfriend thought it was not close enough.

"you should be. i'm expecting a million kisses to even begin to make it up to me."

you smiled into his chest.

"however many you want."

satoru sighed contentedly.

"i missed you."

"i missed you too."

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honey-on-your-tongue · 1 year

Note

Can I have some dilf Jake & younger reader (ofc over 18 tho!!!! , maybe like 10 years difference idk )

maybe reader being jakes best friends daughter and them hooking up 😩🔫

also Jake being lowkey mean abt it 😏…

like yk “my slut” or “what would your dad say if he saw you like that - mouth stuffed with my cock” 🕴🏻

NO BECAUSE THE WAY I LOVE THIS IDEA OMGGGG

my vibrator's gonna run outta battery from all these spicy ass asks 🤭🤭😩😩😩😩

You had always had a crush on Jake Sully. He was old enough to be your dad—seeing how he was almost your dad's age and your dad's best friend. You just never thought it would turn into what it did.

You found yourself more often than not envisioning him fucking you. His naked body, all on display, his thick hands caressing your thighs, his being controlling yours.

Every day, every night—always, you were daydreaming of him. Daydreaming of what he would say, how he would feel inside you, how we would touch you...

You imagined being used by him, and the feeling was too much.

You couldn't even look at him without getting all flustered, your ears folding against your head, tail swishing anxiously, cunt growing moist.

And it was almost like he knew. He'd smirk at you, wink at you, give you little pats on the thigh, caress your lower back, smile at you. He'd call you girl, and sweet, and once or twice, baby. But, you assumed those were all signs of endearment. What else could they be?

You were torn between hell and heaven when your parents announced having to take a trip to one of the neighboring clans, something or another about old friends, acquaintances—whatever. You didn't care about that. You only cared about who they were leaving you with.

Jake.

“But, Father,” you'd complained, “I'm twenty! I can stay on my own.” It was a futile attempt at a) trying to hide the excitement coursing through your veins; and b) at hoping you wouldn't have to remain under Jake's care, in his home, for an entire week.

A whole week, just the two of you.

“It's not about whether or not you're old enough,” your father replied. “You're responsible enough, you know your mother and I trust you, but in case anything happens, it would be good to know Jake can be there to help.”

No matter what arguments you presented, your parents brushed them away. And that's how you found yourself, days later, living under Jake's roof.

It was awkward the first two days. You'd sort of try to avoid him, you would refuse to look into his eyes, and you'd be terrified of daydreaming. Every time you thought of sex with Jake, he would ask, “What's on your mind, sweet?” and he'd have this look in his eyes...this thick, heavy look that made you shudder.

Eventually, you settled down a little, growing more comfortable around him.

Really comfortable, actually.

On a particular morning, just as dawn washes over the land, you wake up, sweating and panting, from a dream—no, another dream where Jake fucked you, his mouth on yours, his hands all over your body, his cock buried deep, deep in your body.

Judging by the time, you assume Jake's already out hunting. Still dazed with sleep and lust filling your veins, you sneak a hand between your thighs, softly caressing your already-wet pussy.

You sigh softly as relief fills you.

Jake's gotta be gone already, you think to yourself, fingers circling your pulsing clit. There's no way he's still here. He always leads the morning hunts.

You remove your loincloth, bending your legs and spreading them, one hand focused on your clit as the other one pushes a finger into your aching entrance.

You mewl softly, hips rolling against your hands, and you close your eyes.

The dream had been so vivid, so fucking real...You can still feel Jake, as if everything had truly happened. You can feel his cock inside you, his mouth on yours, that stupid smirk plastered across his lips.

“Fuck,” you hiss out quietly, curling the finger inside you upwards, touching your g-spot while your other hand pinches your clit. “Oh, fuck.”

As your body starts bucking with the pleasure, you imagine it's Jake's hand, his fingers on your pussy, his voice calling you baby and girl and sweet.

You're flustered, cheeks bright with your blush, body quaking. Fuck, what you'd give for Jake to touch you, kiss you, fuck you. Fuck.

The vivid image of Jake's eyes, amber and predatory, always sharp and cunning, sends a sudden jolt of pleasure through you.

“Ah!” you cry, a little louder than you would've liked to, but the sound is already out, and followed by a whimper of, “Jake.”

Unbeknownst to you, Jake sleeps not far from you, only a bedroom away, and when he hears you gasp, he sits up, alarmed.

He'd asked Tsu'tey to take over his shift for him, deciding he'd stay here in case you needed anything. The sound of your voice sends fear through him at first.

Something's wrong, he thinks, rising off his bed, quickly walking towards your bedroom.

But as he approaches, hand out, ready to push the flap of your tent open, he hears you again.

“Fuck.”

And Jake knows that sound. He knows it's not terror, it's not pain, it's not a call for aid. It's pleasure.

As he quietly steps closer to your bedroom, a whiff of your scent reaches his nose, intoxicating and thick. Your arousal is strong, it makes his cock twitch, his pupils dilate.

Jake shakes his head, pushing his cock down in an attempt to brush off the arousal.

What's wrong with me? Listening to the poor thing touch herself in there...as if I had any right.

Still, he doesn't walk away. He's about to, though, when another of your gasps reaches his ears.

“Fuck! Jake.”

At this, he freezes, ears perking, entire body going rigid. His cock springs to attention, lust beginning to sear through his veins.

Last he'd checked, you didn't know any other Jake but him...could it be that you were touching yourself to him?

“Yes, fuck,” you whine lowly, the sound of your soaked pussy growing louder, squelching as you fuck yourself.

And goddamn, Jake can't help himself.

He carefully pushes the flap of your tent open, peeking in, only to find you, legs spread wide, pussy on display, your hands touching yourself. He licks over his lips, his cock aching, as your scent grows stronger. He rubs his hand over the erection poking through his loincloth, yearning to fuck you.

He watches you for a moment, studies the way you touch yourself, the way your back arches, the way you throw your head back. Your pretty eyes are shut tight, your limbs quivering, and you poor fucking thing, he can't not help you when you're clearly in so much distress.

“You know, sweet, if you woulda told me you wanted me, I would've just helped you already,” he says, stepping into your bedroom, allowing the flap of the tent to close behind him.

You jerk, opening your eyes, quickly seeing him standing before you and removing your hands from your cunt, sitting up.

“Jake,” you stutter, voice breathless, cheeks growing darker with your blush. “I-I thought you'd—”

“Left for morning hunt?” he finishes for you, smirking. “Tsu'tey's leading today, baby.” His eyes scan over your pussy, gaze turning dark. “And thank fuck he did, huh?”

Deeply embarrassed, you croak out, “'m sorry, I...I, uh...I was just...” You trail off, at a loss for words. What could you possibly say to mend this?

“Touching yourself to me?” he questions, approaching your cot, crawling onto it.

You divert your gaze from him and press your thighs together, hiding your pussy from him.

“Oh, don't try to be all innocent and sweet now, girl,” he says, scoffing. “Spread your legs. Let me see how bad you need it.”

You refuse to meet his eyes, just as you refuse to open your thighs. So, Jake uses his huge, rough hands to force your thighs apart. You close your eyes, ashamed, goosebumps prickling over your skin.

His eyes drink in the sight of your soaked pussy, puffy from your ministrations, your slick dripping onto the thin mattress below.

Jake clicks his tongue. “You poor thing,” he says. “You were close, huh? And I interrupted you?”

You don't reply, only offer a tiny nod before murmuring, “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he echoes, as if confirming the notion, licking his lower lip. “Will you let me make up for that, sweet?”

At this, your eyes snap open, meeting his famished gaze. “How-how do you mean?”

Jake smirks. “I'd prefer to show you. Will you let me?”

You consider it for a second. The opportunity of a lifetime...you're not gonna just let it slip past you...right?

“But you—What about my father? My mother?” you ask, voice quivering, and Jake can hear you don't give a fuck about that. You're just trying to be the good girl you always are, always trying to follow the rules and meet the expectations.

“Forget about them,” he replies. “They're not here to stop us, hm?”

You stare into his eyes for one, two, three seconds before nodding. “Okay,” you say quietly. “Show me.”

Jake smirks, his cock fidgets under his loincloth, and he removes the item of clothing. Your eyes fall to his cock, pupils growing wide at the sight.

Overcome with lust, you rise to your knees, asking, “Can-can I touch it?”

Jake groans at the request, throwing his head back. “Fuck,” he gasps. “'f course you can, sweet. You see how hard it is? It's for you, baby.”

You shyly reach for him, hand a little unsure as it wraps around his cock. The moment you touch him, Jake grunts softly, and you jerk him slowly, gently, glancing up at his face as he stares down at you.

Your big doe eyes find his predatory gaze. His lips are parted, little breaths leaving his mouth as you inch yourself closer. You place a kiss on the tip and Jake hisses. He wants to push you on your back and just fuck you, but he doesn't want to scare you off.

You lick his underside experimentally, keeping your eyes on his cock, and he watches, enthralled, as you play with him. The look of curiosity and amazement across your face makes him harder, precum dripping from his thick head.

You glance back up at him and timidly question, “You'll put it inside?”

Jake smiles at you, a cocky, seductive smile. “Inside that pretty pussy, if you'll let me,” he replies.

You nod slowly, understanding, before lying yourself on your back and spreading your legs. “I want you to.”

And Jake swears he's dead, he swears he's done for, swears his entire being is about to go haywire.

He remains kneeling on the bed, grabbing your hips in his large hands and pulling them up so your ass rests on his thighs. Your eyes are wide, excited, heart beating out of your chest.

“Watch,” he orders as he positions his cock against your entrance and then pushes into you, slowly, carefully.

Your eyes flutter a little as he enters you, but you don't gaze away from where your bodies meet. When the thick head meets your cervix, you gasp softly, body jerking, and Jake groans.

This is so much better than dreaming, you decide, clenching around him, making him grunt.

“So fuckin' tight,” he gasps, starting out with slow thrusts to see how you'll take it, and then increasing his speed, his eyes locking onto your breasts as they bounce with his pounds.

“Fuck!” you gasp, hands digging into the mattress below, legs shaking. You can't believe how deep inside you he is, how he stretches you out. It's so much better than your hands. So, so much better.

“Look at you,” Jake says, moving his gaze to where your pussy swallows his cock whole. “Takin' me so well, sweet. Is it good?”

“'s so good!” you reply, moaning, eyes rolling into the back of your head. You didn't think it could be this fucking amazing. “So good.”

Jake chuckles softly, watching you, and he figures he might as well force a confession from your lips while he's at it.

“Was this the first time you touched yourself to me?” he questions, one of his hands moving to your clit and drawing circles on it.

“N-no,” you reply, gasping and shaking.

“No?” Jake repeats, amused. “How many times have you done it?”

“Every-every—” You gasp, back arching, as he pinches your clit. “Ev'ry night.”

“Every night, huh?” he says, smirking. “And why didn't you ever tell me?”

“'cause you-you're dad's best friend,” you reply, whining as he angles his hips upwards, allowing his cock to press against your g-spot with every thrust.

“Ah, I see,” he chuckles. “You were afraid of your dad finding out, hm? Afraid he'd see how much of a slut you are for me?”

That makes you clench around Jake, and he groans, biting his lower lip. “'m a slut,” you echo, nodding. “A slut.”

“No,” Jake says, thrusting into your harder, deeper. “You're my slut.”

At this, you cry out, pussy dripping. “Your slut,” you agree, nodding. “'m your slut, Jake.”

“Yeah, you fuckin' are, aren't ya?” He smirks, his eyes watching your stuffed cunt. “Jesus, kid, what would your dad say if he saw you like this, hm? With your cunt full of my cock?”

“Ah!” you moan, the mere reminder of how wrong, how off limits Jake's supposed to be making you more aroused. The idea of breaking the rules for Jake makes your pussy throb, your legs quake.

“I'm not gonna lie to you, darlin',” he says, groaning. “I've jacked off to you every now and then, too. You and those pretty eyes, and those perfect tits, and that sweet ass. Goddamn. It's fucking impossible for me not to be hard around you.”

You mewl, eyes rolling into the back of your head, as you try to meet Jake's thrusts with the desperate bucking of your hips.

“Fuck, this is fuckin' amazing,” he grunts. “You have any idea how much I've wanted for you to suck my cock? How many times I've wanted to eat your pussy? How many times I've wanted to fuck you for hours until you're crying and begging me to stop?”

You whimper, entire body clad in a thin layer of sweat, your cunt fluttering around Jake's cock.

“One of these days, girl, imma make you squirt, yeah? You want me t'teach you that neat trick?”

You nod. “Please! Teach me whatever you want! Yes!”

Jake can feel your body tensing, your pussy growing tighter around him. “You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna coat my cock with your cum?”

“Mhmm!” you reply, whining, mind too lost in pleasure to formulate words.

Jake increases his speed, his hips ramming into yours, fingers pinching your clit, making you jerk and squeal in delight.

“Come for me, girl,” he encourages, his voice thick and rough with his approaching orgasm. “Come all over my cock so I can fill your pussy with my load, yeah?”

“Mhmm!” you repeat, nodding desperately, body thrashing wildly as Jake pounds you.

The pleasure becomes a harsh wave that crashes against the walls of your womb, threatening to fill you to the brim and then some more. You mewl, back arching, your eyes shut tight and your mouth open. You're gasping, shaking, cunt clenching around Jake with so much force, he drags against your insides almost painfully.

And then your orgasm claws its way out of you, breaking free, making your body shudder as you cry, “Jake! Jake!”

“I know, girl,” Jake replies, his own orgasm so near. “I know.”

As you begin recovering from your high, your pussy softens around Jake and he pounds into you, making you squeal and gasp, before he finally comes, spilling into you. His cum is hot and thick, sticky as it fills your cunt, dribbling out from how full you are.

Jake hasn't pulled out of you yet when he says, “When your parents come back, don't get nervous 'bout anything, kid. If they ask what we did, you just say you had a little bonding session with your dad's best friend.”

-----

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