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clementine-thedestroyer · 5 months

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Sometimes, I wish I was as important as your email inbox - John Price x reader

Warnings/tags: Hurt comfort, could be considered angst. Miscommunication(?) established relationship, fem!reader. This was supposed to be pwp... then it turned in to this unholy abomination of hurt comfort because I have daddy issues and can’t fucking do this.

In which, Price has been a bit extra busy with work, and reader feels a bit… alone.

You open the door and step out of the bathroom, tugging your towel tighter around yourself as the steamy warmth from your shower mixes with the relatively cold air of the bedroom.

Price is sitting on your bed, leaning against the headboard with his legs stretched out and phone in hand as he scrolls through the device- likely for something work related. When he sees you step out of the bathroom, his eyes flit towards you and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

You hadn’t expected him to be home yet. For the past week, he’d been leaving early and getting back late. Usually, he left early enough that it was still dark outside, and that the only goodbye you’d get was a gentle nudge to wake you up and a kiss on the forehead- followed by a goodbye and a reassurance he’d be back before you knew it. You knew he had to go, it was some week-long training he was helping to administer- but that didn’t help to soothe the loneliness that came with an empty house and waking up to a cold spot where your husband usually lay.

Most of the time, it was dark again by the time he got back. And he was too exhausted to do much more than shower, collapse into bed next to you, and mumble a few “love you’s” before tugging you against his chest and using you as a body pillow for the night.

Tonight though, he was home earlier than usual.

Not by much- it was still late, and had you been given another thirty minutes, you’d probably have been curled up in bed and- judging by how exhausted you felt- probably completely passed out. And of course- though he may be home earlier than expected… he wasn’t really free. The texts, emails, and paperwork were what most commonly followed him home from work- and it was stupid to be jealous of paperwork or goddamn Gmail. You knew that. You told yourself that constantly. You also constantly reminded yourself that you chose this, you knew what you were getting into with this man. But that didn’t help how starved you’d become for his touch and affection. And it certainly didn't help the nights where you would fall asleep next to your Price, yet feel more alone than ever- because there was something heartbreaking about falling asleep feeling cold, lonely, and unwanted, with the man you loved right next to you- but too busy with what felt like constant work.

Although… As much as you hated those nights, it was still better than when Price would come back with new injuries and guilt weighing heavy on his shoulder.

Today had been a bit of a rough day for you. Tiering, to say the least… especially now, as you realized tonight was shaping up to be one of the ones that hurt the most. And despite the guilt you felt at not even attempting conversation with Price after nearly a week of only goodbyes and goodnights, you really wanted nothing more than to put on your comfiest pajamas and curl up for sleep.

You missed him dearly, but you were too emotionally and mentally drained to figure out what to do about it. Frankly, this was the only thing your exhausted self could think to do: go to sleep and hope that the rest of this (particularly) dreadful week passes quickly.

As exhausted as you may be… you also know that Price is probably about to stand up to take a shower of his own now that you’re out, and that by the time he’s done, you’ll probably be asleep- so you stifle a yawn and pad over to Price.

Once at Price’s side of the bed, you lean over to press a kiss to his forehead- a hand held over your chest to keep your towel from falling down when you do so. “Goodnight.” You mumble, stumbling a bit when you get a head rush as you try to stand back up.

When you start to sway, Price frowns and reaches out, placing a steadying hand on your upper hip. “You alright’, Love?” He asks, forehead knitted in worry.

You nod, ducking your head a bit and pressing a hand against your temple as you wait for the momentary dizziness to pass. “I’m fine, just stood up too fast.” You murmur, silent for a moment as you take a deep breath and start to straighten up.

From where you stand, you can see that Price’s phone is, in fact, open to his email inbox- and you can’t help the frown that accompanies the pang of dejection that shoots through your chest.

“You sure?” Price asks, his concern seemingly only growing as he speaks. “You look a bit off-color.”

You nod your head “yes”, trying your best to simply put Price’s worries to rest. You do know that you should talk to him, that you should take this opportunity to tell him how you feel, that you should stop this spiral you're in. But… you’re tired. Tired physically, tired mentally, tired emotionally- You’re just fucking tired, and everything feels like it’s all going shit.

The hand on your hip moves upwards, and a strong arm wraps around your waist and gently tugs you down. You land with a bit of a bounce onto Price’s lap- his arm around your waist bracing you and keeping you upright as his other one comes up to press the back of his hand against your forehead.

“Bloody hell, you’re burning up.” Price says, the worry lines on his forehead deepening as he quickly drops his phone. “You sure you’re feeling alright?” He asks again, clearly not believing your early assertion of “fine”.

“‘Not sick, just took a hot shower.” You mumble, leaning into his hand where it still rests on your forehead- letting out a deep breath at the touch and letting your heavy eyes drift shut.

Price is clearly unconvinced- looking just as worried as before as he moves one hand to your upper back and the other to the nape of your neck- pulling you close and lifting your hair out of his way so he can check once again for a temperature.

The hand against your forehead must've broken something in you, because from that moment on you feel like a damn had burst. Like all the effort you’d been putting into hiding how bad you’ve needed this is violently swept away and forgotten. Even when you loop your arms around his neck and pull yourself against him, you’re not close enough. No matter how much of you is touching him, you need more. No matter how much you press your face into his chest or the crook of his neck, you can still see the lights from the bedside lamp, smell the soap you used in the shower, and hear the neighbor's dog barking at god knows what. And that’s wrong- because all you want in this moment is Price. You want to be held impossibly close to him, you want your everything to be only him, just for a moment.

You don’t hear what he says, but you feel him take you by the shoulders and gently to get you to look up at him.

In response, you only whine and squeeze him tighter, pressing your face deeper into his neck and shaking your head no.

He gets the hint- a deep sigh leaving his body as you feel him relaxing beneath you. You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head and you feel two large, warm, calloused hands slip under your thighs and lift- moving you so you’re straddling his thighs.

“Comfortable, Love?” He asks- to which you nod, goosebumps rising along your body as the air from the fan, even on its lowest setting, feels frigid against your still slightly damp skin- your towel from a moment ago having fallen as Price moved you. A hand runs along your arm, warming the skin slightly as you feel Price shift underneath you in preparation to stand up.

“Do you want me to get you some clothes?” He asks- to which you, again, shake your head in response. This time, side to side as a “no”.

Price chuckles, the vibrations of his laugh traveling between you as he sets a hand on his nightstand, using it to support himself as lifts you two and yanks the covers out from where he had been sitting on them- settling back down and pulling them up to cover the two of you.

The comforter on you two’s bed is big and fluffy- perfect at trapping body heat and warming you up quickly. It’s probably your favorite blanket in the whole house, and you’ve been known to drag it out of the bed and curl up with it on the couch whenever you’re sick or it’s cold enough outside that the heater can’t keep up. Being wrapped in it is enough for you to- gradually- begin to loosen your hold on Price. Eventually, you’re not so much clinging to him as much as you’re simply draped over him.

But even when you release your death grip, Price doesn't try to get you up. He lets you stay, keeping you pressed close against his chest and your head resting on his shoulder. He keeps one hand under the blanket, resting on your lower back- occasionally stroking at the soft skin with the pad of his thumb or idly tracing the dips and rises of your body as you drifted in and out of sleep. In his other hand, he held his phone. Likely going through emails or doing something or other work related.

You drifted between varying levels of sleep and awakeness as he held you. Whenever your head would start to slip from where he’d propped it up against his shoulder, he’d pause from his work to gently set it back and make sure you were doing okay. He’d often press sweet, loving kisses to the top of your head, cheek, or temple, or give gentle, protective squeezes to your waist whenever he felt you stir awake, and he’d speak soothingly and stroke your hair whenever you started mumbling half-asleep words to yourself or him.

At one point, you started drifting deeper and deeper to sleep- waking up less and having fewer moments of half-awake confusion after being moved or repositioned- only to later wake up flat on your back - now dressed in some pajamas- and with Price slowly pulling away from you.

You jerk awake, gasping for breath as you immediately latch onto the part of Price that’s closest to you- which turns out to be an arm. You immediately find him back at your side, tears running down your face as you beg for him to stay.

You have his right arm in a white-knuckled grip, and his other one is behind your back, holding you up as he looks down at you- the most worried you’ve ever seen him.

“Shh, you’re okay- I’m right here.” Price says, his look of concern only worsening as you let go of his arm in favor of clinging to his torso.

“D-Don’t go!” You sob, the burst of adrenaline from waking up and thinking he was leaving flushing through your body and leaving you shaky and with a pounding heart.

“I’m not going to leave, Love.” he reassures you, one of his hands petting your head, his beard scratching at your cheek as he holds you close in an attempt to comfort you. “But you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

You don’t respond, hiding your face against him.

He pulls away, cupping your cheek gently and making you look at him. “Sweetheart, I’m worried. You wouldn’t talk at all once you got in my lap, and you freaked out when I tried to set you down. I need you to talk to me.”

You pull your face away, going back to hiding against his chest… but eventually nod.

Price is silent for a moment- thinking before he speaks again

“Did someone hurt you?”

A quick shake of your head “no” and a heavy sigh of relief from Price.

“Is it something that happened at work?”

Another shake of your head “no”.

“Is it something that I did?”

You hesitate…

Your lack of answer tells Price enough, and a kiss is pressed to the top of your head. Had you moved your face from where you were hiding it, you would have seen not only the look of absolute love he was looking down at you with, but the thinly veiled guilt he held as he watched the way you clung to him.

“I figured, love.”

You hiccup, choking on your own tears as you do and starting to cough. Price rubs soothing circles into your back as you try to catch your breath.

“I know, I know. This training thing is hard, and I should've done better at making sure my girl was okay. I’m sorry, love.”

“Y-you don’t have anything to be sorry f-”

Price cuts you off with a stern look.

“None of that, now. I should’ve made more of an effort to be there for you.” He pauses, kissing you sweetly before continuing. “I love you so, so much, and I’m so sorry I let you forget that and that I let things get to this point, okay?”

“I love you too- “ You say softly, sniffling and trying to wipe away some of your tears- only for Price to come in with a tissue and gently start to blot at your red and blotchy face.

“I’m sorry for not talking to you about it…” You mumble, your face heating up as you try to take the tissue from Price to dry your own face, but failing to do anything more than get him to laugh a bit and start teasing you by keeping the tissue away.

“Tomorrow is the last day of the training, I’m going to take the day after off, and we’re going to do something, okay?” He says, laughing softly before letting you have the tissue and kissing you on the cheek.

Price’s hand finds yours, and he laces you two’s fingers together before pulling your still interlocked hands up and pressing a kiss to the back of yours.

“And I’m not just sorry about this week, I’m sorry about recently in general. I’m going to be better about making sure I make time and showing you how much I care for you, okay?”

You nod, giving one final wipe to your face before you started squirming in his hold in an attempt to sit up a bit more.

“I’m going to be better too- I’m not going to bottle things up… and I’m going to try harder to tell you when I’m feeling like something’s wrong instead of letting it get like this…”

Pride tugs Price’s smile wider, and he brushes a strand of hair out of your face- tucking it behind your ear before pressing yet another kiss to your face.

“Thank you, Sweetheart. I’m glad.”

You smile, feeling like a weight has been lifted after your cry and conversation with Price. You wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing him as tight as you possibly can in an attempt to convey how thankful you are. Of his patience, of his kindness, of him.

“I love you,” You say into his chest as you squeeze him

He lets out a soft “oof” at your squeeze, huffing in amusement before wrapping his own arms around you and giving you a (far from full strength) squeeze of his own.

“I love you too.”

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belovedmusings · 7 months

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Lay me down tonight.

Explicit Smut 18+ 🚫Minors DNI🚫

You were loyal to your boyfriend, Megumi, before you met his estranged father at the yearly family get-together. The second you met Toji, however, the righteous and innocent person you were died, and in their place, an insatiable monster was born. Toji ruined you, and even now, you keep allowing him to ruin you, all behind Megumi’s back.

Relevant tags: shameless smut, infidelity, cheating, Toji is rough and dominant, Megumi is clueless, reader are a good liar, reader is a little depraved, everyone addresses you without the usage of “y/n” for better immersion, Megumi is aged up so that you’re both of age, ‘cause we are not gonna have Toji catchin’ a case up in here, that said, age gap between reader & Toji, minimal gendered language though reader is AFAB, Toji is a horrible father

Recommended songs while reading: older (Isabel LaRosa), Unholy (Hey Violet), Fucked My Way Up To The Top (Lana Del Rey)

A/N: infidelity is NOT the answer but this is a lil smut just for funsies so enjoy!

Read below the cut:

You remember exactly how it had first happened. It was a year ago.

You were meeting tons of Megumi’s family members at once, flying through greetings to cousins and aunts and uncles and distant cousins and great-grandparents—no one stood out to you until he showed up.

The large hotel banquet room the Zenin family had rented out sort of got quiet as he walked in. Your eyes caught on him, and after he scanned the room, unbothered by the staring, his eyes zeroed in on you and Megumi.

He’d tilted his head to the side in interest and then made his way towards the two of you. You heard mumbles and whispers about him.

“He wasn’t invited,” Megumi muttered under his breath in annoyance.

“Who is that?” You whispered back.

“He’s…well, I wouldn’t call him—”

“What are we whispering about?” The burly man said loudly, now in front of you. He looked amused and completely shameless. Now that you had seen him up close, he looked sort of familiar.

“I was just wondering who you were,” you told him, looking around. The family was watching with various degrees of surprise and disdain. The man laughed haughtily.

“Oh, I see. Megumi didn’t tell you who I was?” He asked with a salacious grin. “He didn’t tell me who you are, either. You’re holding out on us both, Megumi.”

Your boyfriend huffed beside you. “That man is technically my father.”

Your lips parted in recognition. That made sense. You’d heard a little bit about him, enough to know he’s a dead-beat and that Megumi never speaks to him nor gets along with him. The family doesn’t like him as a whole.

“What are you doing here?” Asked Megumi with narrowed eyes.

“Relax,” the man chuckled, leaning against a chair. “I just came to see my dear family.”

“You weren’t invited.”

The man just held his wolfish grin on his face. “I don’t care.”

His steel gray eyes found yours, and he raised a brow. “Now, I still don’t know who you are.”

You introduced yourself, along with your relationship to Megumi, and the man hummed. “Well, it looks like Megumi has good taste. The name’s Toji. It’s very nice to meet you.”

He gave you an unconcealed appraisal and it made you feel hot. Megumi scowled.

“Don’t overstep a boundary,” he spit at his father, arm winding around your waist in attempt to intimidate.

The longer you looked at Toji, the more you realized how hot he was. He seemed so buff his muscles were practically bursting through the black t-shirt he had on. He was tall too. So tall. And his dark hair fell in layered strands around his ears and chin—his face was handsome as hell, too. You could tell where Megumi got his looks from. He smirked at you with all of the confidence in the world. He was like a more mature, more experienced version of your boyfriend.

He was really attractive.

“‘Course not,” Toji grinned, rolling his eyes. He’s amused. “I just wanted to greet my son. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Please do.”

Please don’t, you thought, but he turned on his heel and walked towards some other family members, already starting to talk at them instead.

Megumi sighed heavily. “Damn bastard. I had hoped you never had the displeasure of meeting him.”

The pleasure is all mine, you truthfully thought to yourself.

You felt a bad desire growing inside of you, and it wasn’t long before what you wanted came to fruition.

You and Megumi had had to travel to get to the family reunion. As such, you were staying in the hotel they booked the venue in for one night before you went back home.

You were restless, and Megumi was sound asleep in bed. You’d never been to this area, so you figured you’d walk around the hotel, maybe get some melatonin from the convenience shop on the first level to help you sleep. Truthfully, you hadn’t stopped thinking about Toji and how hot he was. You wondered where he went. You and Megumi had left the reunion a little early because he was tired, and you hadn’t seen him again after your brief meeting.

You slipped on some sweatpants and a crewneck before putting your slides on and leaving a note for Megumi in case he woke up.

‘Went to get melatonin and maybe a snack. Be back soon.’

With that, you slipped out of the hotel room and walked down the hallway. It was the middle of the night, so you kept quiet, padding towards the elevator. You pressed the button to go down, and after a few moments, the doors slid open.

Your heart jumped into your throat.

Toji.

A grin instantly spread across his face. “Hey. Goin' somewhere?”

Your blood pounded through your veins as you entered the elevator. “Uh…I can’t sleep.”

“You can't?” He asked, putting a hand on his hip. Bluntly, he replied, “I can fix that.”

Your mouth went dry.

You couldn’t remember exactly what happened next, but soon the two of you were stumbling into his hotel room a floor below yours, the door slamming and locking behind you as Toji took you into a bruising kiss. Your arms were wrapped around his neck the second he lifted you into his arms like a weightless pillow, tossing you down onto the hotel bed in the center of the room.

He kissed you again and it was like he was trying to eat you whole. The things he would murmur to you in between lip locks had your head spinning with guilty pleasure.

“Megumi don’t know how to treat you right.”

“I’ll bet he ain’t fuckin’ you properly.”

“I’ll show you how a real man does it.”

Each kiss, each word, each touch drew you closer to insanity. You both had your clothes off faster than you could comprehend, and Toji was spitting dirtily onto your mound, starting to rub circles into the pearl at the apex with flattened fingers.

You writhed beneath him as he scraped his teeth over your neck and chest, only stopping to lick the hand that was rubbing at you to coat it with more saliva before dipping it back down and slipping two fingers inside of you at once.

He finger-fucked you fast and hard.

Megumi never did that to you. Sex with him was always very vanilla and straightforward. Kissing counted as foreplay and then he was inside of you, always in missionary or sometimes spooning you from behind. That was it.

God, you had no idea sex could be this wild and mind-blowing.

You had cum on Toji’s fingers with a cry, not caring if the people next to you heard, and then he kept fucking you through it, adding a third finger and spitting over it again to get you loose and sloppy.

He had a giant cock. That was why he opened you up manually, because it would have done damage had he just fucked into you from the get-go.

When he did enter you, it still stretched you out past your limits, both impossibly thick and long, and you wondered how the hell anyone took a dick that big.

You quickly found out how.

He simply made you take it.

He held you up by your hips, suspending your lower half with the strength of his arms while he pounded into you. You could hardly even recognize your own voice. It was reaching pitches you’d never heard from yourself before, sounding so debauched and wanton you’d think he found some hooker off the street and paid her to moan like a porn star.

You swore you could feel his cock in your womb. With how big he is, you wouldn’t doubt it.

“Megumi doesn’t have a damn clue,” he had grinned to himself, looking at you as he split you open repeatedly. “Sleepin’ like a little bitch while his daddy takes care of you for him.”

You moaned loudly. “Toji…”

“That’s right,” he praised, “Whose cock is inside you right now?”

“Yours, oh—yours…”

“Say my name,” he growled, slapping your mound. You jolted, shivering at the harsh pleasure it gave you.

“Toji,” you mewled, scratching at the bed comforter. He was fucking you hard enough you knew you were going to cum from brute force alone.

“You belong to me now,” he told you. “You’re mine.”

That had sent you over.

“Oh my god!” It was a shout as you orgasmed, creaming all over his cock and onto the bed. He groaned deeply, shoving himself in harshly as he emptied his load inside of you, squeezing your hips so tightly they bruised.

When he’d pulled out, he watched his own seed drip from inside of you, sucking in a breath.

“You should do something about that,” he said. “Unless you wanna give your boyfriend a sibling.”

You shivered. Toji really didn’t give a shit about his son.

At that point, you knew you couldn’t pretend like you had any moral high ground either. You slept with your boyfriend’s dad. You cheated willingly. There was no sugar-coating it.

You had limped your way back to your room and cleaned up in the bathroom, falling asleep next to a still-sleeping, oblivious Megumi.

What’s worse is that a year later you’re still going back for more.

You and Megumi are still together.

He has no clue about Toji, and you want to keep it that way. The two of you barely mention him. He only talked about him the day after you met him once to say that he left when he was seven and never bothered to return.

You hide your affair like it’s your job. So much so that now you’re on birth control. Beforehand Megumi had just been fine with condoms, never making a fuss about them. Toji, as you had quickly found out, doesn’t like them. The largest available size is too small, he had told you, and besides that fact he likes feeling you bare. He doesn’t bother to pull out either, so not wanting to risk pregnancy as well as not wanting to spend fortunes on emergency contraceptives like you had the first time, you just get on birth control instead. You also only ever meet Toji at his place, since you know Megumi doesn’t know where he lives and you currently live with your boyfriend. Having Toji over could easily end awfully. You don’t take chances.

Tonight, you’re seated in Toji’s lap at his apartment. Megumi is away on a business trip, and you’ve been staying at Toji’s place for the past few nights. You’ve had so much sex you can barely think straight, at this point. Since you walked in he was on you, and you’ve christened every surface in his small apartment. The doorway, the living room, the wall of the hallway, the bedroom, the bathroom shower, bent over the sink, the kitchen counter, the table, too…everywhere is free reign.

Right now, you’re facing away from Toji, back to his chest while he bounces you on his cock, burly hands clamped down on your wrists to keep you upright and prevent you from falling forward.

The lewd wet slap of your bodies connecting, his heavy breathing and groans as well as the desperate gasps you keep giving him are all you hear. You two hadn’t even managed to turn the television on before he pulled you in and slipped inside, only his t-shirt and nothing else on you giving him easy access to what he wanted.

Every time your body collides with his, his tip kisses your cervix and it gives you a jolt of pleasure. He’s so deep inside it feels like he’s rearranging your guts.

Then, from his slow and hard pace he suddenly switches up and starts ramming into you harshly, punching mewls from your throat.

“Toji!” You gasp, “Oh god, Toji!”

Your knees are bent and your legs are tucked under them, split apart by his own, and if he wasn’t holding you up right now you’d face-plant right into the floor. The danger and the trust it involves has your head spinning. How did you get here? This isn’t who you used to be—but you wouldn’t go back and stop yourself if you could. It’s too good.

He’s too good.

His right hand is clamping down on your neck from behind abruptly, other hand switching to your waist, wrapping around the front to forcibly arch your back, and you gasp as your air gets restricted, cock getting deeper inside with the new angle.

“Toji,” you rasp, hands covering both of his wrists just to hold onto something as the force of his thrusts start forcing an orgasm through your system. You sputter, body spasming as it begins to take over, building from the spot his tip keeps hammering and undulating through every one of your nerves, yanking a high-pitched whine from your compressed vocal chords. “Toji!”

You tighten around him as you finish, mouth falling open, eyelids fluttering as your vision unfocuses, covering his cock on your essence. He groans deeply, letting your neck go and instead pulling you flush against his chest, pressing your hips down as far as they can go so he can pump his load into you.

With a few sloppy thrusts, he’s cumming, coating your walls in what must be the millionth round this week. He groans deeply into your ear, keeping you pushed down on him, sensitive length throbbing inside of you with the aftershocks.

You then feel his rough lips dragging over your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to any skin he can touch, his heavy breaths fanning over your flesh hotly.

“So good for me,” his voice is hoarse and fucked out, and it makes your stomach flutter. Sex with your boyfriend is never this intimate—you’re never pushed to your limits. Toji does it every time and then praises you when you’ve pleased him. It’s so addictive.

You turn your face towards him and he covers your lips with his own, initiating a messy make out session that only ends when you need air. If you didn’t require oxygen, you’d have loved to keep Toji’s tongue in your mouth forever—you think that it could be your only form of sustenance if you had your way.

“When’s he comin’ back again?” Asks Toji. You draw in a breath to steady yourself. It takes you a moment to think.

“Two days from now.”

“Good,” his grin is beastlike. “I get to keep you longer.”

You grin, nodding, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips. The position is a little uncomfortable though, so you end it quickly, pulling off of him.

He grabs your hips and turns you around, staring at you with dark eyes.

“Who said you could get off?” He asks, and you take a look at him, noticing that he’s half-hard again already. His stamina is seriously unmatched.

Before you can reply, he pulls you back towards him, this time your chest to his.

“I’m nowhere near done with you,” he says, and it’s done in such a way that you sort of feel like Little Red Riding Hood about to be devoured by the Big Bad Wolf—it thrills you.

And you’ll continue to go back for more.

—-

A/N: MAPPA better whore Toji out like they’ve done for Satoru, Kento, and Choso next week or istg

Please don’t repost or translate but feel free to reblog & share!

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #toji zenin #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro x you #jjk x y/n

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endless-weightless · 7 months

Note

Can we get more ghoul headcannons pls!! The smuttier the better 🩷

AHHHH FIRST REQUEST!! and thank you for this because I LOVE writing smutty ghoul hcs.

not rlly proofread soz

CHARACTERS: Sodo/Dewdrop, Phantom, Aether, Rain, Mountain, Swiss, Omega, Ifrit

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut (obvi), gn!reader, CNC, monsterfucking?, size kink, dacryphilia, bondage, ghouls have mating cycles now bc i said so, pegging, anal, breeding kink, bdsm

🎸 Sodo

Will always fuck you to the point where you’re practically screaming and begging for him because he practically gets high off the ego boost.

He doesn’t mind whatsoever about having to do most if not all the work. The best reward he could ask for is seeing you all fucked out and crying his name.

When Sodo's in heat, he isn't just horny, he's also really fucking aggressive for no good reason 😭. He's snappy, grumpy, stompier than usual and it's all because he's got blue balls LMFAO.

Because of his angry mood, anything you do that pisses him off could result in some rough sex while he growls at you about how you've pissed him off. But, there's a small chance you could put him in his place because he's surprisingly into subbing when it means he gets to put up a fight (consensually, of course).

When he does sub, he's the biggest fucking brat imaginable. It's a good thing he gets so sensitive when he's punished because he cannot listen to an order for the love of everything unholy.

Hates when he can't be handsy with you. He just can't get enough of your body so if you really want to torture him then tie up his hands behind him.

🎸 Phantom

He’s super into puppy play but is absolutely terrified of admitting it and just prays that you’ll suggest something like collaring him so he can bring it up.

This hc and the next one are fem!reader (kinda?) ones but hang in there. Phantom is fucking infatuated with your tits. If your riding him he’s staring at them bouncing like he’s hypnotised.

Also loves fucking your tits regardless of their size because tits are tits and they all look beautiful (but yours are always his favourite).

So obedient it’s adorable. He never acts up around you and if he does he’s on his knees immediately and apologising profusely.

Constantly asking if you feel good even when he’s moments away from cumming and is overstimulated.

Goes non-verbal when he gets too worked up. All he can get out are whimpers, sniffles and small nods or shaking of his head. It’s hard to tell if he needs to tap out so you have to check up on him and be extra attentive.

🎸 Aether

Gets super aroused when he smells you, especially if he’s in heat.

When he’s fucking you he likes whispering in your ear about how he’s going to fuck a baby into you while you dumbly nod as his thrusts become more and more rough.

Gets a little too turned on when you wrap your hands around his horns because they just look so much bigger than your hands.

Wanna give Aether an instant boner? Wear a thin sundress or loosely buttoned shirt around him with no underwear on and watch him writhe in his seat when he picks up on the scent of your underwear being absent.

He's always down to fuck in the church part of the abbey. The risk of getting caught or being seen/heard is thrilling to him and the ministry encouraging sex is just a bonus.

Loves a good bit of cockwarming when you're both too sleepy to fuck or he just wants to torture you.

🎸 Rain

Goes absolutely feral for some sloppy and messy sex. He just loves seeing the two covered in each others cum and arousal.

Prefers being marked rather than marking you. The hickeys and bruises he gets to see the next day always make his stomach backflip as he imagines what you’ll do tonight.

Rain isn't a huge fan of seeing you in pain during sex. Him however...

It's not entirely kink related, it's kinda just a very fucked up way of showing his devotion to you that also happens to get him off.

I honestly think he wouldn't absolutely despise the idea of being caught having sex. Like in a sense where someone accidentally walks into your room while you two are fucking and not being out in public.

He's very big on you belonging to him and him belonging to you. Not in a sub/dom dynamic way but rather being each others mate. I could go on and on about him during his mating cycles but I'll save that for another fic...

🥁 Mountain

One of his favourite things to do is to use his elemental powers to grow vines to use as restraints. And if you’re into cnc or just like surprises, he’ll do it when you least expect it.

Touching his horns or tail is a dangerous game to play because it’ll always end with him above you fucking you until you see stars and there’s tears welling in your eyes.

Has a giant mirror right across from his bed that he makes you face while you fuck in reverse cowgirl just so he can see how tiny you look compared to him.

Calling him ‘sir’ is a one way ticket to overstimulation because once it slips out of you he won’t stop fucking you any time soon.

He doesn't like having to be verbal with his commands, when you see him gesture you to come sit on his lap, you better listen.

If you ever want to see him turn as submissive as he possibly can be, start scratching at the base of his horns and behind his ears. He won't go down easily but he'll still let out a few somewhat pornographic moans.

🎤 Swiss

He needs his cock stepped on every once in a while, preferably by a nice pair of stilettos or latex boots.

Practically has no limits. He’s into pretty much everything you can think of and is willing to try anything if it makes you happy and gets you off.

He’s primarily focused on your pleasure but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like being taken care of.

Every heat cycle for Swiss turns all his dials up from 0 to 100 and it's almost scary. His urge to breed isn't even that strong, he just really needs to be fucked so he'll shut up.

He’s usually really enthusiastic about subbing, but sometimes he feels the need to be a bratty little shit so you’ll take out your anger on him and he can forget about everything wrong with the world for a solid few hours.

He's a biter, that's for sure. The intensity of the bite depends on your comfort but if you give him the green light he'll start biting so hard he draws enough blood to have you lightheaded.

🎸 Omega

Although I said Omega is a hard dom and a mean one too in my previous post about the ghouls, I don’t think he’d be opposed to subbing every once in a hunter’s moon.

Loves having you just ride his thigh while he practices guitar. He gets to see you all needy and not be able to be affectionate to him because of the obnoxious Hagström Fantomen blocking your torso from his and the lack of attention.

Wouldn’t mind cuckolding if it involved Terzo. Also wouldn’t mind if Terzo simply ordered the two of you around while he jerked off at the sight.

Him being a mean and hard dom doesn't make him cruel, he still praises you when you behave well. If you've managed to take his cock on top of the edging and torture, he'll softly smother your face and neck in kisses for doing such a good job while he continues to thrust into you.

(AFAB reader hc) If you ever find yourself horny yet on your period do not fret because Omega gives absolutely zero (0) fucks! He'll even eat you out if you want him to.

Adores roleplay, especially if it involves corruption. One of his favourite scenes to act out is for you to be an innocent mortal summoning a ghoul from hell not knowing what ghouls desire once they're on earth.

🎸 Ifrit

He already gets hard when he’s giving head but if you grab onto his horns to pull him closer and he chokes on your dick/suffocates between your thighs he might cum untouched because oh Lucifer it feels good.

He likes fucking fast and rough, regardless of the dynamic. He likes seeing the bruises, feeling that fuzziness in his limbs and not being able to think when he’s fucking.

Will randomly communicate how he's feeling throughout the day by hugging you from behind and pressing his hard, clothed cock into your backside. Zero shame whatsoever.

Loves a good bit of thigh riding. He doesn't mind who's riding who's thigh, he just likes the feeling of it.

You can always tell when he's close to cumming because his tail will start to flick erratically while his claws extend for a split second.

Ifrit isn't afraid to use his tail to jerk you off. Don't act surprised when you feel something wrap around your cock or the spade of his tail flicking over your clit.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

that's all lovelies!

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mothandpidgeon · 23 days

Text

While the Baby Sleeps (demon!Ezra x f!reader)

pairing: demon!Ezra x f!reader (mom!reader)

rating: E! 18+!

wc: 2.6k

summary: The only way to get your baby to sleep through the night is making a deal with an unholy creature. But, of course, there are consequences...

tags: dark fic, Dub/non con (making a deal with a demon), breastfeeding, nursing, lactation kink, mommy kink? (but not like that), stretch marks, oral sex, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, horns, Ezra is a sex demon, moth never uses y/n

an: Here is my submission to #MothandBirdMothersDayChallenge! Actually this fic is the reason why I wanted to do this challenge. Sometimes when I'm in the dark nursery in the middle of the night, I have fun intrusive thoughts like 'What if there was a shadowy figure in the doorway?' To combat how terrifying that thought is, I took it and made it horny. Thank you @ezrasbirdie for betaing this, helping me do this Mother's Day Challenge, and all around being a cool auntie to my fics and baby Moth.

...

He wakes you every night. It doesn’t matter what you try. Your son hasn't let you have more than three consecutive hours of sleep since he was born.

You’re at your wit’s end.

Every time you look in the mirror you see a hollowed out version of yourself with dark bags under your eyes. You make yourself coffee without putting grounds into the filter. You fly into a tearful rage when you spill a bottle of precious milk. You don’t know who you are anymore.

Tonight’s no different. You lift your crying baby from his crib. Rock him, shush him. You sit with him in the glider and try to nurse him back to sleep. It’s all done bleary-eyed, half asleep. Everything is these days.

You’d give anything for this baby to sleep.

Just as the thought crosses your mind, you look up to see a figure standing just outside the nursery. It’s shadowy against the dark of the hallway, shades of gray on black. From the height and broad shoulders, it could be a man. He stands abnormally still. Silent, watching. You think it’s just a trick of your sleep deprived mind until he moves just slightly and a patch of silver hair is caught in the moonlight.

You must be dreaming because if there was a man in your baby’s room, you’d be terrified. And you’re not. You feel calm like you’re floating on steady waters.

“Who are you?” you ask. Your voice drifts like a lullaby.

He doesn’t respond, just leans in the doorway. All that you can make out is that blonde hair and two eyes that glint at you.

“I’ve come to help you, petal,” he finally says. His voice is warm and melodic.

You feel yourself nodding off for a moment. When you blink yourself awake, he’s by your side.

You can make out his features better now. Dark stubble covers a handsome face. The sharp angles of his nose and jaw are silhouetted in the dim. You smell woodsmoke and frankincense as he comes near. He kneels beside the chair and his brow furrows as he looks up at you.

“You need that child to rest,” he says.

You nod pathetically. You can feel familiar tears well in your eyes. Hopeless, helpless. Desperate.

“I can be of assistance,” he says.

“Don’t hurt him,” you say, holding your son a bit closer to your chest. Your baby might be torturing you in the night but you love him. You won’t let anything happen to him. Even though you’re sure you’re dreaming, you remember old fairy tales, creatures that try to trick and deceive. This man isn’t human, you know that somewhere deep inside you.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I won’t even touch him. It’s not the babe that’s piqued my interest. It’s his mother,” he explains. His obsidian eyes are on your lips, pink tongue darts out to lick his own.

“Don’t hurt me either,” you say, though there’s no fight in your words.

“That’s not my intention at all. Quite the opposite. You’re so beautiful, petal,” he coos, brushing his knuckles across your jawline.

It must be a dream because you haven’t felt beautiful in a long time. Your body’s been stretched and broken, engorged and swollen. Your hair falls out by the handful. Your breasts reek of sweat and milk, a sickly funk.

“I want you. Carnally,” he says.

The growl in his voice makes warmth pool between your thighs. He looks at you like something divine, an awe over his features. His light touch moves down your neck and over your collarbone sending goosebumps over your skin. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel anything other than exhausted, touched in a way that isn’t a demand for food or comfort.

“Let me have that and that boy will slumber like an angel,” he promises. He watches your baby suckling himself back to sleep.

It sounds so good. Suddenly the only thing you want more than a a night’s sleep is for this stranger to pleasure you, to be inside of you. You haven’t felt desire in just about as long as you haven’t slept. You’ve barely been able to shower and feed yourself let alone take care of your own needs.

“Put the child in his cot and go to bed. Tomorrow I’ll come for you and you’ll see,” he says.

“Who are you?” you ask again.

“I’m Ezra,” he whispers.

You wake up in your bed the next morning and you’ve slept like the dead.

That strange dream haunts you but you think of it as nothing more than that. When you put your son down to sleep the next night, you don’t expect any miracles. He goes down easily enough, a nice little fluke, and you decide to turn in early yourself.

Its nearly midnight when you wake up but you realize it’s quiet. The baby isn’t crying for you. You glance at the monitor and see that he’s sleeping soundly, sucking away at this pacifier. Just as Ezra promised.

Relief floods your veins. You put your head back against the pillow and your eyes drift close. As you begin to return to sleep, there’s a shift in the bed and you catch that earthy scent again. You gasp when you see Ezra’s black eyes. He’s beside you, the pad of his thumb tracing the plump of your lower lip. His chest is a wide golden plane littered with white scars, dusted with dark hairs.

“Hush, petal,” he says. “I’ve kept my promise. And now I’ve come to ravish you.”

You want to tell him that you’re tired. You finally have the opportunity to go back to sleep and you shouldn’t let anything come between you and that sweet rest. But the same, strong want that you felt the night before is calling you. An ache runs between your legs up to where Ezra’s hand glides over the delicate skin on your pulse. You're powerless to stop your own desire from sabotaging the one thing you’ve wanted.

A languid sigh leaves you as you melt into his touch.

Ezra sucks at your neck. You’ll have a black and blue mark from his teeth but the sensation is so delicious, you can’t bring yourself to care.

He opens your legs and notches his hips between yours. The friction of his hard cock against your panties makes your back arch.

“I want to taste you,” he says.

He rucks up the ratty old t-shirt that you sleep in along with the nursing bra that’s constantly saturated with leaking milk. He takes a long moment to savor the sight of you so exposed, a smile twitching on his lips. A long, low growl leaves him as he slithers down your body, gathering your breasts in his big hands and bringing his face to nuzzle in your skin.

You hear him inhale deeply, taking in your scent. The stubble of his cheek scratches at your sensitive flesh. One thick finger circles your peaked nipple nice and slow. Your body responds— a bead of milk seeps out and rolls down to the valley between your breasts.

Your breath catches at the mix of sensations. Your cheeks heat and you can’t help the embarrassment that creeps up your spine. Much to your surprise, Ezra’s eyes widen with interest. He lowers himself and traces the wet trail with the flat of his tongue. You can only imagine what he tastes– the musk of your sweat beneath sweet milk. It seems that he likes it. He closes his lips around your nipple and lavishes it with his tongue, groaning into your flesh.

“Shit,” you gasp.

You feel the tingle of letdown behind your breasts, his ministrations summoning more milk. Soon Ezra is drinking from you, grunting and rutting his hips against you. The other, neglected nipple weeps milk and he pauses to lap it up greedily. You tangle your hand into his hair and that’s when you feel it. There’s a raised bump amidst his curls but it’s hard as bone. It sits just above his forehead and stands only an inch high. As your fingers rake through his hair, you find another. Horns.

The terror you expect never comes. He might be something ungodly and all you feel is a building excitement. Everything about this is wrong but the world feels upside down.

He comes away, his plush bottom lip glistening with pearlescent milk. It’s a sight that should repulse you but in the delirium of sleeplessness and lust, it just makes you hungry.

“You are an exquisite creature,” he purrs.

His flat palm skates down your belly where you’re middle still holds baby weight, a reminder that your body is no longer your own. He peels your panties down your thighs. You feel the fine edges of his teeth against your skin. He penetrates you with two exquisitely thick fingers. No warning but you hardly need it— you’re already slick.

You keen, back arching off of the mattress, and the sensation is doubled when he puts his lips to your clit and sucks with the same enthusiasm he had at your breast. His wide shoulders spread your knees to make room for his body. You drown in pleasure, a heady mixture of fire doused in the thick pool of sleepiness. Floating, sinking, cresting on a wave as he licks and spreads you open, presses in deep and coils you tight. It’s hard to believe your body can have such strong responses when you’re barely function in your waking life. Something primal drives you on and Ezra knows just how to unlock it.

“Such a delicacy. To sup on milk and cunt,” he says, barely taking his lips from you.

The swirls and undulations of his tongue and the sweet pressure inside works you into a frenzy. Your breath shortens and then stops altogether, your thighs tighten and you hold your eyes shut, listening to the whimpers and moans between your legs. It’s too much and not enough.

When you come undone, it’s a rush of ecstasy that you want to live in forever. Rolling and gushing and sighing. You choke and arch, your entire body convulsing. Your spine clenches up like you’ve been struck by lighting and the electricity runs out through your fingertips and toes.

“Such a glorious vision,” he muses as you come down, panting and shivering.

Ezra’s eyes are fixated on you, pupils blown so wide they’re nearly black. He looks like he wants to devour you.

You share his hunger. You want more already. You’ve just had a feast and yet you’re starving again.

You see Ezra’s cock now for the first time. Thick and upright, it’s tip, flushed and red. He takes it in his fist, glazing his shaft in your release. There’s something animalistic about it that floods you with another wave of arousal.

“More,” you manage to say.

“Not too tired?” he teases with a wicked smile.

You shake your head. How can you sleep when your body is on fire with lust?

“I’ll fill each needy hole,” he says.

You whine. He lines himself at your entrance.

“You’re a goddess. And I’m going to defile you.”

You're filled to the hilt. The noise that escapes him is animalistic and his eyes lose focus. You’re already fluttering around him, already so close to another climax. He fucks you, the stretch and rhythm making you dizzy.

“This is the closest I’ll get to heaven, I fear,” he revels. “But what could be more divine than this sweet cunt?”

Each word that falls from his lips seems to stroke at your core. His hips drive into you, hands greedily paw at every soft part of your body.

The only thing that quiets his debauched ramblings is suckling at your breast. Your senses are completely overwhelmed. Tears prick in your eyes as your insides tighten, another orgasm shattering through you. You bite down on his shoulder to keep yourself quiet.

“Let me hear,” he demands. “He won’t wake.”

And so you do, crying out as you clench around his thickness, losing all control of your body.

“That’s it, petal. That’s it,” he says.

He goes on thrusting and pins you down, torturing that exquisite spot deep inside of you over and over again. You’re not sure where one climax ends and another begins but you’re possessed.

“If only I could fill that womb, sire one after the other to keep you round,” he grunts.

Ezra swears. He hisses out words in a language you don’t recognize. It sounds like an incantation.

You hardly have time to make sense of it. He’s pulling out of you, grinding his wet length against your thigh and spilling hot ropes onto your mound.

You lay beneath him, boneless and dazed. The exhaustion flushes over your weak body. You sense Ezra at your breast again as your eyes drift closed.

The next thing you know, your baby is crying and it’s morning.

It must be a dream. There’s no other way to explain it— a horned creature slipping in and out of your bedroom in the middle of the night, fucking you senseless when you have no energy left. But you wake up with come drying where he marked you.

That night, he’s back again.

And again after that.

“Ezra, I’m exhausted," you breathe. "Please.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted, petal?”

Now your son sleeps soundly through the night while you are awake, debauched for hours without end.

He’s insatiable and somehow you are, too.

He fucks you until you’re raw. Your legs quiver and burn from being parted so wide. Your pussy feels battered and bruised. You beg him to fuck your ass just to give your cunt some rest.

And although your body feels like it can’t take another second of pleasure, though it begs for a moment’s peace, every time he comes to you, you’re flooded with arousal.

When you try to steal an afternoon nap, he’s there, cock already standing in his fist.

Spittle dribbles from the corners of your lips as he fucks your mouth. It runs down your chest, your knees already bruised from the hours you’ve spent on them. You try to chase your own relief, grinding your hips against the floor. He pulls you by the ears to sink deeper down your throat.

He grunts and moans and howls as he comes between your lips.

He doesn’t always take.

The next time he makes you come four times.

“Again, again,” he chants into your ear. His words are hot breath as his fingers press inside of you overwhelming that ridge that sends you reeling. Your bodies are pressed together, sticky with perspiration and release and drool and milk.

“I can’t,” you sob, your body sore and stretched to its limit.

You’re so spent, so overstimulated, each orgasm takes more and more effort. But Ezra refuses to quit, punishing you until you reach a fearsome crescendo.

“Oh, my petal, but I know you are more than capable.”

He’s right. You can feel the weak muscles in your core begin to twist. You hold your breath and focus on the brutal sensations Ezra gives you.

“Besides, your ability is immaterial,” he goes on. “These were the terms of our deal. This cunt. Is. Mine.”

Despite the fact that you’re so exhausted you can barely remember your own name, hardly able to stand on your own two feel, the climax that hits you is just as monumental as the very first.

“Have you endured enough tonight, petal?” he asks, sucking the gush of slick off of his fingers.

“Please,” you whimper. “Please.”

You’re not sure if you’re begging him to stop or to keep going.

“Tomorrow, petal,” he promises. “Now get some rest.”

He wakes you. Every night.

...

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! My asks are always open and I don't bite (unless you're into that).

#mothandbirdmothersdaychallenge #ezra prospect #ezra x f!reader #demon!ezra #demon!ezra x f!reader #dark fic

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sytoran · 1 year

Text

𝐆𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐘𝐔𝐏 ⌇ wanda maximoff

summary: in which you wake up to your girlfriend riding on your abs.

☰ PAIRING: G!P buff!reader x sub!wanda

☰ REQUEST: Would you be willing to do a Wanda riding g!p readers abs and then riding reader? As always, all good if you’re not! Love your writing.

☰ TAGS: smut (18+), horniness, riding, wanda's a literal cowgirl in this one, somnophilia, teasing, buff reader as in BUFF reader, wanda's your perpetually horny girlfriend, clingy wanda kinda, just in general a lot of desperation and horniness, oh and there's a heavy daddy kink just a warning

☰ NOTES: thanks for the lovely ask! this was fun to write, hope you enjoy it too

masterlist / AO3

wanda shifted under the duvet, restless and wide awake in the depths of twilight. she was laying next to you in a king-sized bed, staring at your sleeping silhouette.

she couldn't really explain it, embarassing as it was, that she had trouble sleeping because she was perpetually struck with libido whenever in your proximity, regardless of what you were doing.

despite dating for nearly two years already, you were just so arousing, with the strong jawline and the roguish smirk and those abs.

but as much as wanda was in love an in lust of the entirety of your being, no feature quite stood out to her as much as your muscles.

it had started off as a simple thing, wrapping her hand around your bicep when you walked together, enjoying the feel of how solid and structured it was.

at the beach on summer days, lathering sunscreen all over your built body, trailing wandering hands over broad shoulders and structured abs.

it became less innocent, shifting in your lap during movie nights, pleased when she felt your thigh muscle flex under her, of which an iron grip on her hips came with.

then of course, came the pinnacle of all things unholy, wanda clinging on to the curve of your trapezius when you railed her those sinful nights, scratching down tensed back muscles.

wanda loved seeing the faded, winding, red scratches on your back the next day, a semblance of your devotion towards each other.

and tonight was no different.

it didn't matter that you had fucked her silly for three hours last night, breaking the bed frame for the umpteenth time, no surface of the house you shared gone unfucked.

never enough.

that's what it was, always waiting to pounce on you given the opportunity. wanda realized that the more she stared at you, the hornier she would get.

it didn't help that you looked so effortlessly attractive now, in the moonglow of midnight and the soft breeze of ventilation.

your shirt had ridden up, exposing the rise and fall of bulky muscle. blanket being half thrown off in your haphazard state of slumber, black boxers were loose against the object of wanda's wet dreams.

the redhead licked her lips, hands reaching up and under your shirt before she could help herself.

wanda let out a shaky exhale, pupils dilating and fading into a darker shade of green.

she let her hands travel over the expanse of your torso, fingertips burying themselves in the dips and curves of your washboard-esque abdominal muscles, then stroking down the V-line that led to the forbidden area beneath your boxers.

the sheets rustled beneath wanda as she climbed atop you, hands pushing up your shirt with a heady atmosphere of lust, just below your sports bra.

"shit, daddy, i'm so wet for you," wanda whispered, in airs that you could hear her. in reality, you were still fast asleep, blissfully unaware of your girlfriend's ministrations.

hiking up her nightgown with haste, cold air rendered goosebumps blossoming on pale skin.

wanda slowly sank herself down onto your torso, her wet bundle of nerves making contact with your sculpted abs.

she whimpered, pressing her palms onto the the flat surface, and you stirred. wanda held her breath, staring intently at your turning head, but then you stopped and it was evident you had fallen back asleep.

wanda could've laughed out loud: you were such a deep sleeper, you didn't even notice- oh shit. you had begun moving in your sleep, shifting your body to get in a comfortable position.

in doing so, your torso moved, and the sensations on wanda's cunt went flying. she whined, the sound lost in the loud quiet, bucking her hips against your abs.

god, the sensation was euphoric.

wanda swore she could feel each ridge and curve of your every muscle under her glistening pussy, rubbing her in all the right directions and simply being an incredible surface to fuck herself on.

so that was what she did.

the redhead let out a pant, beginning to ride on your abs at a tantalizingly slow pace, front and back. her hair fell to the sides of her face like curtains to a stage, breathing growing erratic rather quickly.

her legs were wrapped tightly around your side, still you lay blissfully unaware of the dark beauty you called your girlfriend.

it was only when wanda let out a needy grunt, pressing down a little too hard on your stomach, that you jolted awake with a start.

wanda didn't bother stopping.

you could imagine the look of pure shock on your face at the sight before you: your girlfriend, looking at you through lowered lashes, biting her lip, grinding on your abs and leaving dampness all over your skin.

"fuck, baby," you rasped, reaching forward to brush a hand over her thigh. it only spurred wanda on further, riding you with a rekindled fire, moaning louder than she had before.

grunting at how needy she was, you clenched your abdominal muscles, and almost instaneously did you find yourself being ridden on like you were a fucking surface.

"fuck, daddy, your abs are so good," wanda rambles, cunt dripping onto your skin. you prop yourself up, letting a hand travel over her pussy.

"daddy," she repeats, almost in a cry, throwing her head as her hips keep going.

you merely stare at your girlfriend, caught in a trance, as she dry-humps you like it's the last thing she'd ever do.

when wanda orgasms, it's always loud.

you'd grown to learn that lesson when you first tried a quickie with her in a public bathroom stall, you standing and just bouncing wanda on your cock with strong hands.

let's just say it ended with you walking out the bathroom stall, a dizzied wanda clutching on your arm, and unimpressed stares of three old ladies at the sink.

she always has to moan or scream in some way, 'daddy' and 'fuck' and 'please' being her only vocabulary in those moments.

soon enough, the hardness in your boxers is tented and straining. you grunt, pushing wanda back with hands on her hip, so she could feel you against her ass.

it's fucking hot, and you're not complaining, so this time is no different.

wanda orgasms with a string of incoherent shrieks, fingernails digging themselves into your skin, as you hiss.

before she can even come down from the previous high, you grip her underneath her thighs and manhandle her onto the bulge of your cock, as wanda whimpers at the aftershocks.

she leans back, slowly, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, then licking the tip of your straining cock through the black material. she looks up at you with an innocent look, eyes wide but tongue unyielding.

your eyes narrow, a dry remark on the tip of your tongue, but not projected before wanda takes matters into her own hands.

before you know it, she sinks down onto your exposed cock, warmth engulfing you entirely, and you let out a long groan.

“jesus, last night wasn’t enough for you?” you question, holding her hips as she begins riding you, slowly at first.

wanda looks at you through fluttering lashes. she’s gorgeous, absolutely so, more each and every day. “it’s never enough with you, daddy.”

you lick your lips, pushing her down a little further, letting another inch enter her. wanda moans.

"ride me, then," you say loftily, a smirk on your lips. "show me how much you want me."

wanda gets that challenging glint in her eye, and you feel a pit of gasoline burning in your core.

you were in for a wild ride.

when wanda sinks down onto your cock again, it's not just to quell some temporary bout of lust. it's to take you.

wanda had always wanted kids, you knew that. you were slightly hesitant at first, but hearing the filthy words of you becoming her daddy and her husband, had your head spinning.

"oh, you feel so good," wanda whines, speeding up as your cock hits all her right spots.

you let out a rumble from somewhere deep in your throat, at the sight of wanda's tits bouncing in front of your face every time she rides, sweaty and nipples hard.

without wasting time, you shove your face up in there, face buried between her bouncing boobs.

you lick and suck at her sternum, then the swell of her breasts and the tip of her nipples. she's so pretty, so good for you.

wanda whines, continuing to ride with more vigour. she's in love with the way your hands are everywhere, all over her, like you couldn't get enough.

because then you're thrusting your hips upwards to meet and match her rhythm, and that in itself had wanda convulsing.

wanda's eyes roll back after watching you look at her with the darkened eyes, sweat glistening on your bronzed abs and the hip thrusts sharper than she could have ever prepared for.

the shocks of arousal coming in spasms, her coil unwrapping in fast movements.

her white mess of arousal are all lapped up by you, as wanda whines at the tingles of overstimulation.

sighing, you gently soothed her over with hushed whispers and soft kisses, hovering over her but careful not to crush her with your body weight. you kissed the tears off her cheeks, smiling as she nuzzles into your chest.

“can you go and sleep now, sweetheart?” you ask lowly, almost teasingly with how her eyelids are already fluttering shut.

wanda wants to respond, a snark retort on the tip of her tongue, but her brain shuts down when she knows she’s safe in your arms. the feeling of your warmth is all too welcoming.

wanda would never really know the words you mumbled into her neck as she fell asleep, but from the way you gently kissed her hair afterwards, she was more than sure it held the lingering semblance of an ‘i love you’.

masterlist / AO3

#marvel women #marvel smut #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wlw smut #gxg smut #wanda x reader smut #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff #x reader #marvel #bottom wanda maximoff #sub wanda #top reader #dom reader #my works

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connieisthesun · 8 months

Text

Kisses around Curves (Conrad Fisher x y/n)

Summary - You and Conrad have been in a committed relationship for a while but you're ready to take it to the next level and to live out the true meaning of infinity.

Warnings - Smut, protected sex, oral female receiving, sweet talk, lose of virginity, jealousy, heavy make out: Minors Do Not Interact.

*Authors note* - This is my first time writing smut so excuse me if its a bit vanilla lol but apart from that enjoy and leave any requests for future fics. :)

Tag list - @conradfisherswifesstuff @cheezbot @grxnde-dwt @itsshayfr @lanivoid @calpurnia2002

Comment or heart to be added.

______________________________________________________________

Infinity was always a recurring motif in yours and Conrad's ever so sweet relationship, no matter the tides and the trues you both battled forward with incessant love for each other. You are unbreakable, untouchable with the bond you possess spanning across distance and lifetimes and yet after a long time you urge to feel the intimate touch of his veiny fingers and his exasperating breath on yours. You wanted him to kiss your curves like he promised to do to the nature of your relationship; infinite.

You sat there in your deserted dormitory with Conrad his eyes ever so sincere and genuine piercing his soul and making you melt. As the holidays were looming your roommate had already left and what better Christmas present than the burning desire of Him. He beckoned you to sit on the half made bed next to him (you couldn't fold a fitted sheet if your life depended on it).

"Y/n, did I ever tell you how lucky I am to have you. You paint my darkest sky the brightest blue and I want you to know that I have never loved and cherished a person let alone a girl as beautiful and intellectual as you. I don't know what I did to deserve you but all I can say is that you deserve anything the world can offer, my love"

Touched by his sentiments, you peck his lips ever so slightly tracing your aching mark on him.

"Connie, I have never loved anyone longer and truer than you. It's just that I get slightly envious of other girls, they're so much prettier that I can't seem to think why you even want me."

"I don't just want you I need you, to breathe, to survive, you've helped my overcome so many of my personal battles and needless to say you always look smoking and gorgeous all the time. I have eyes for no-one else but you y/n/n " He said offering a sly smirk.

"What am I saying, I know you can't resist me Fisher!" You teased back. Underneath his smile, still lay the sweet young boy you once met at a cafe, whom memorised your order after 2 seconds of meeting you, you reminisced.

"May I." He winked and seductively whispered.

"Yes of course." You replied before his lips slowly pressed against yours and a feeling of impenetrable warmth overcame your body. You tugged on his hair softly as he gripped your waist with care, your hands serving as a mere barrier from the actions you were about to commit. You parted your mouth before he slid his tongue into yours, dancing to the beat of your longing. You bit on his lip with care and an unholy groan escaped his mouth that you could feel your insides pooling. With his hand massaging your neck and reaching a stray hair across your forehead.

"We should stop" Conrad spoke reluctantly.

"Don't stop Con, as you said I need you and I need you tonight*." You breathed.

"I don't want to pressure you into this, we can take it slow." He replied with utter softness.

"Please continue" You beckoned again as your lips collided like smashing waves. This time the kiss was more passionate and slow as you could feel his tongue trace a heart in your mouth. His hands slowly reached for your top as he began to tug on it with ease, you forgot that Conrad was millenium times more experienced than you in this realm but the didn't matter to you, all that did was the connection and pleasure you experienced.

You open your eyes and slowly unclip your lacy bra, with your breasts unravelling before Conrad like a fountain. Still retaining his respectful demeanour he positioned you to lie down on the bed as he massaged around your nipples. "Do you like that honey." "Mm" was all that could escape from your mouth.

You bucked your pelvis into his as he was still on top of you now sucking on your tits with such affection and desire. You could feel his steamy body heat and your boobs felt like heaven. He gave you a brief kiss before making his way down to your core, pulling down the waistband of your plaid jeans.

A moan escaped your tongue, he grinned at you continuing to lick your areola before positioning himself in between your soaked legs.

"You ready for this y/n/n darling" He looked up at you for approval.

"Of course, Connie baby."

He began stimulating your clitoris, circling figure eights on your centre region. You began to feel a tingling feeling before his veiny fingers began to stroke your insides while simultaneously groping your breasts.

Your breath hitches as he makes a long lick across your vagina, then begins to flick his tongue within you. Kissing your sides, he explored your folds, making them his own. Licking erotically and still pumping his curled fingers into you. You grasp his back muscles, moaning with delight.

"Such pretty sounds, I love it when you moan remember that.He says breaking the silence and turning you on even more than before.

His tongue is now entering and existing your entrance as he continue sto play with your G-spot with his fingers.

"Conrad!" You scream with delight.

"Y/n don't forget we can stop, tell me to take it slower if you want."

"No no, this perfect, your perfect. You say through disgruntled sounds.

He lets go of your vagina and makes his way back up to you, offering you a steamy kiss. He let's you pull of his shirt and pants revealing his perfectly sized penis. You have a radical awakening to have him inside of you.

"Con, please." You mutter urging him.

"Of course, anything for you."

He lines himself up to your entrance and pushes slowly constantly checking in with you to ensure your comfort. You both let out yet another moan as he dominates on top.

He slowly and carefully grinds against you while kissing your neck and ear and gripping your ass. What a multitasker you though to yourself!

You could feel yourself coming to your peak but before that he strokes your labia, causing your stomach to erupt with pleasure. You couldn't take it any longer but wanted to make sure he came too so you enticed him with your seductive voice.

"Conrad, make me your's, fuck me until I can't see straight hon, do me...hard, you know I love you."

"Fuck, don't do that to my y/n " He said as his face flushed red. You could feel him harden inside of you.

He quickened his pace as you buckled your hips against his toned body. The slightly ajared window provided the greatest moonlight which picturesquely painted an incandescent glow around the silhouette of Conrad.

He flips you so you have a chance to ride him, placeing his hands on your hips and a finger in your mouth while groaning your name. You rub fast against his cock and suck on his slender hand. As you do, you lean forward allowing Conrad to grasp your breasts and continue fondling them. Suddenly, you climax with great force simultaneously with him. Feeling the warm semen fill your pussy, you ride your high out together.

He puts you down and plants a kiss on your forehead, offering to watch a movie and cuddle throughout the night.

"I'm glad it was you Connie." You spoke.

"Anything for you y/n, my future, my everything. You and me, we are infinite and I'll gladly kiss your curves for evermore. Unless you want to try out a few other moves later." He said as he winked.

Oh Conrad what would I do without you, you thought as you peacefully fell asleep against his chest.

#conrad #conrad fisher #smut #conrad fisher smut #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher reader #conrad fisher hot #the summer i turned pretty smut #tsitp conrad #team conrad #tistp #conrad fisher fluff #connie baby #tistp x reader #conrad fisher imagine

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wongyuseokie · 1 year

Text

Like a Cowboy | j.w.w

Summary: Your boyfriend sang the line, “like a cowboy,” and that’s precisely how you want to ride him.

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ♕ smut | ♥ completed works

Word Count: 1306 words

Pairings: Jeon Wonwoo x Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AUs: Fluff, Smut, PWP Content Warnings: None. Wonwoo is just giving amazing sex. This fic just happened because I’m a weak woman for this man. I’m a simp for this man, his deep voice singing like “like a cowboy.” Smut Warnings: Oral sex (female receiving), fingering, squirting, overstimulation. Unprotected sex (don’t do this). Nicknames (he calls her kitten a few times). Authors Note 1: This is an extremely self indulgent fic, since it's my birthday and Wonwoo is my bias. Hehe. 💕

Authors Note 2: Thank you so so much to @seungkwansphd for listening to me babble about this and giving me feedback and suggestions too!! 💕 Thank you also to my soul mate @here4btsfics for beta'ing and lovingly yelling at me. Thank you for indulging me as I cry about Wonwoo.

Tagging: @dokcheol because she asked and I made a new demon friend. 🥰 and @falllinflowers because I made two new demon friends today 💕also tagging @onlyseokmins because u thought it was a horsie fic.

Banner Credits: @classicscreations

Cross Posted to AO3

“Okay, why are you glaring at me?” Wonwoo asked one night while you were both getting ready for bed. He was puzzled as to why you kept narrowing your eyes at him and glaring.

“You know what you did,” you mumbled. It was unfair. Wonwoo didn’t know, he was simply singing, but his deep voice did things to you. Unholy things and tonight was yet another night where his voice made it impossible for you to behave like a sane person.

However silent Wonwoo could be, he was incredibly observant, and he noticed the sultry glances, looks, the lace set you wore, and the way your thighs kept pressing together.

“Hmm, given how you’ve had your thighs pressed together the entire evening, I’m guessing you’re very frustrated, and the fact that you’re glaring at me means I caused it,” Wonwoo wondered, making you glare at him more.

“Let’s see, was it my tongue? Did you want that? Or did I lick my lips on stage again and make you horny?” Wonwoo teased, recalling memories, making you huff at him.

“Or was it, and I think this might be the fifth time this month that my voice turned you on?” Wonwoo suggested as he inched forward to place his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You let out an exasperated laugh at his words, making Wonwoo smirk.

“Kitten, if you keep getting horny because of my voice. I might have to either stop speaking or stay buried inside you,” Wonwoo teased, his thumbs pressing into your hips.

“I pick the latter,” you mumbled, making him smile.

“But it’s my voice, kitten. I can’t help it,” Wonwoo spoke with a playful pout on his handsome face.

“True, but it just makes me horny,” you admitted, making Wonwoo blush at your honesty.

“What did it this time?” Wonwoo asked.

“You sang the sentence ‘like a cowboy’, and it did things to me,” you mumbled, and Wonwoo bit his lip to keep from laughing–not because he was mocking you, but because he found it adorable how easily you’d be affected by his voice.

“Right, and?” Wonwoo asked.

“All I could think of was that I wanted to ride you like one,” you added, your voice a little louder this time, and Wonwoo could feel his cock start to harden at your words.

“I see. Well, I should probably make it up to you for that, shouldn’t I?” Wonwoo asked, and you nodded quickly, making him smile fondly at you as he leaned down to capture your lips with his.

“Lie down, pretty girl,” Wonwoo instructed, and you did as he asked as you climbed into the bed, laying down on your back.

Wonwoo moved until he hovered over your body, careful not to crush you. He placed a kiss starting from your forehead and moving to your cheek and then to your lips, making you melt with how soft the kiss was.

Wonwoo moved to lay between your legs, pushing the fabric of your shirt up slightly, and his lips met with your skin as he peppered soft kisses along your stomach.

Wonwoo pushed your shirt higher, exposing your lace-covered breasts, and he moved his body to place kisses up your tummy and stopped at your sternum. He pulled his shirt off, and unhooked your bra, and tossed them across the room.

Wonwoo stayed silent as he lay between your legs again, his lips latching onto your breast. You moaned softly, and he laved over your nipple while his hand gently flicked and tugged your other breast.

Wonwoo moved his mouth to your other breast repeating the movements. He smiled at you as he trailed kisses down your chest and stopped at the waistband of your jeans.

He smiled as he undid the button on your jeans and pulled them down your legs along with your now soaking wet underwear. Wonwoo pushed your thighs apart and laid down between them.

Wonwoo threw your legs over his broad shoulders, kissing your inner thighs until his mouth finally landed on your cunt. Wonwoo groaned softly when he tasted you, moaning at how wet you were as he secured his lips to your clit.

“My god,” you moaned out. He was incredible that you knew, but everything felt so intense. You gasped at the pleasure. You failed to hold your moans as he sucked on your clit; his hands moved to interlock at your waist as he kept sucking your clit.

You felt your eyes roll back as your orgasm approached you,

“Wonwoo,” you gasped.

Wonwoo could tell you were close, and he continued to suck your clit until you started to shake in his grip. Wonwoo’s mouth never left your clit as you came.

You whimpered as his touch pushed you to the brink of overstimulation, but you didn’t care. It felt too good. Wonwoo slowly moved his mouth away from your clit, smiling when he saw how swollen and wet your cunt was.

He could see it throbbing and pulsating with aftershocks of pleasure.

“Fuck,” you whispered as he pushed two fingers into you. Wonwoo stood up slightly as he pushed his middle and ring finger into your cunt and hooked them there.

“Scream for me,” Wonwoo said as he vigorously pumped his fingers in and out of your cunt. He used his other hand to press down your pubic bone holding you still as you started to thrash about.

“Do you hear how wet you are?” Wonwoo asked as he kept fingering you. You nodded, whimpering, as you fisted the sheets between your hands and let out a scream as you came hard.

“Wonwoo, fuck. I can’t,” you whimpered when you noticed that he hadn’t stopped his movements.

“Yes, you can. I know you can,” Wonwoo countered as he repeated his actions, making you squirt all over his hands.

You whimpered in his grip, pushing his forearm, and Wonwoo smiled as he pulled his fingers out of you.

“Fuck me, please,” you begged, and Wonwoo nodded.

“Oh, I will,” Wonwoo obliged as he moved to place his hands on your face and pulled you in for a kiss, pulling you on top of him.

“Please,” you begged against his lips, making Wonwoo smirk into the kiss as he adjusted himself to guide his cock into you, making you whine at the stretch.

Wonwoo held your waist, his lips finding yours, and he dug his heels into the mattress thrusting into you. You moaned and whimpered into the kiss.

Wonwoo kept pounding into you, his thrusts hard and deliberate, and with each thrust, his cock brushed over the spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

“Fuck, cum,” Wonwoo gritted out, moaning against your lips when he felt you tighten around him. You came hard a third time, clenching around him, making him whine into the kiss. Wonwoo let go of you and flipped you both over so that you were lying underneath him.

He pushed his cock into you again as he pounded into you, chasing his own orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” Wonwoo groaned as his hands moved to your swollen and sensitive clit. You whimpered as he rubbed it.

“Cum again with me, baby,” Wonwoo said as he rubbed your clit, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.

“Fuck,” you both gasped within seconds of one another as you clenched around him and as he released his warmth into you.

“Well, that was wow,” Wonwoo breathed out as he rolled over, ensuring he pulled out of you slowly to lay down next to you, and immediately pulled you into his arms.

“Did you enjoy the ride?” Wonwoo asked, smirking and making you laugh, despite the eye roll you gave him.

“You know, I think god is fair. Not everything sounds sexy, even with that voice.”

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 1 year

Text

Photo Finish

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: I don't really have words for this. @desert-fern and I were chatting about Hangman thots. And this spilled out of my brain.

Warnings: This is just porn. Porn with Plot. Consume at your own risk.

Word Count: 6484

A/N: This is dedicated to @desert-fern, @dakotakazansky and @horseshoegirl! Read and enjoy the thots my darlings!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

It is an unforgiving job, working as a photographer. You'd been all over the world taking pictures for exposes, portraits of world leaders, and scenery. You could name a print material with a portrait on the cover and say you'd taken a picture of that kind.

It's your first time in New York after six months of working on assignment after assignment for your agency when you're called into your boss’s office and ordered to get a studio ready. You're expecting a shot with supermodels or perfumes. Hell, you've even taken photos of cans of dog food. You're not expecting to hear that the client is the U.S. Navy. Not at all.

The U.S. Navy's recruitment numbers have fallen to an all-time low. They're looking for a propaganda vehicle or five to kickstart recruitment. They've ordered a squadron of pilots to fly to New York and have professional portraits taken. It had been decided it was too risky to have civilian photographers on base, so your company had rented a colossal hangar from the airport for one day. The squadron and their jets would land tonight, and the shoot would happen tomorrow. The information has you reeling and more than a little flustered. The U.S. Navy? As a client? That’s huge. This assignment could make or break your whole career. How do you even start? This shoot is on an awfully quick turnaround for something so big.

Your mind is spinning, thinking of how you could make these spreads work. To begin your prep work, you go to your office, collecting your assistant, stylists, makeup artist, and lighting coordinators. Once everyone is clustered around your office, you fire up your computer and display pictures of each aviator. The Navy has selected six aviators for this spread; they’re all gorgeous. And per the sanitized dossiers you hand out to your team to read, each has risked their lives to serve their country. Of the five men on the dossiers, one keeps catching your attention. His name is Jake, Jake Seresin, and his eyes pierce into you even through the low-quality picture you’ve been given.

“Alright. So how do we do this? The Navy asked for shots of each aviator and their plane in flight suits and uniforms. We’ll have all four jets in the hangar with us tomorrow. Additionally, I want to explore who they are as people. So I think we’ll also do shots of them in formal wear. As a last step, we’ll tie into their sex appeal and do shots of the boys in their flight jackets and dog tags with no shirts. For Lieutenant Trace, I thought we could explore the duality she naturally poses as a highly decorated female Naval Aviator. How does that sound? Any ideas for how we can accomplish that? Start pulling pieces on racks in the bullpen. I want to do a final review of all of the options at 4 o’clock.”

Your stylists, Adam and Lea, are already huddled up and discussing pieces to pull for the formal wear shoot. You can see an unholy gleam in Lea’s eyes as she finds pieces for Lieutenant Trace to wear for the sex appeal shot on her tablet. You grin at their enthusiasm before turning to your lighting techs.

“Seb, Kris. I want you both to head out to the hangar today. I don’t know what the lighting is going to look like. Feel free to start setting up the lighting for the shoot tomorrow. But don’t lock anything down. We’re going to have to share our space with the planes.”

You turn to your assistant, Amy.

“Ames, go with them. Get an idea of the space we have to deal with. Measurements would be useful. Start visualizing areas where we could lay out a backdrop to do a set of pics without the planes in the background. Scope out everything — the facilities, where we could set up changing booths, a refreshments table, etc. We’ll also probably need to coordinate deliveries from the usual food platters and drinks places. Get an assortment of things that would apply to any dietary restrictions you can think of.”

With that, you turn to the last member of your team, your makeup artist.

“Hey, Katie. We will want to keep the makeup for this shoot subtle and touch up any blemishes and under-eye circles. That should be it for the boys, but we’ll want to do something eye-catching for the formal wear portion for Lieutenant Trace. So pack accordingly. Go ahead if you want, and head to the hangar with Ames so you can coordinate placement for the makeup station.”

You call your team to attention by ringing the small gong on your desk.

“We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us today. Call me for anything you need. This shoot is important for the studio, and we will have many eyes on us. Here are the credentials for the hangar. Measurements for the aviators are included in the dossier packets. For the formal wear portion of the shoot, pick coordinating colors except for Lieutenant Trace. Good luck!”

The rest of your morning is spent coordinating with the Navy Liasion. During your lunch break, you head to the hangar and help your team as they work there. You pick up sandwiches and drinks for everyone and drop some off for Adam and Lea. You reach the hangar at 1:30 and use your credentials to let yourself in. Unsurprisingly, the hangar is a hive of activity. Amy’s marking down placement points near the bathrooms with a measuring tape, and Katie’s getting a vanity plugged in and organizing her equipment.

Meanwhile, Seb and Kris are testing the lighting. A large swath of the Hangar floor is as yet empty. A clear path has been left from the hangar doors to the open area. The open area is where four F/A-18A Super Hornets are going to sit. You call your team to grab their lunches and catch up with Amy on her progress. It’s your first time delegating so much of the admin work to Amy since she’s the newest on the team, and you’re ecstatic with her progress.

She’s gotten everything organized, including the food and beverage deliveries. When a pair of workmen back in a truck containing the backdrop and the changing rooms, you supervise as they build them and place them where you want them. They’ve just started assembling the backdrop when your phone rings. You step into the afternoon sunshine to take the call. It’s the Navy Liasion. He’s calling to inform you that the squadron will be landing shortly. Sure enough, you can just hear the engines as you hang up and bolt indoors. Amy’s just sending the workmen on their way as you help your team clear the open areas of the hangar and stand near the open hangar door.

You can feel the thrum of the engines as Four F/A-18As fly in formation and finally land in all their glory. They’re beautiful machines. You can smell the stink of the jet fuel and feel the heat from the engines as they roll into the hangar. The next moments are full of frantic activity as the flight crews help ensure the jets are safely landed. Once all the furor has died down, you finally reach where the aviators have descended from their jets. They’re examining your team's work with eagle eyes that dart to your person as you step closer, your heels echoing as you make your way to the jets.

They’re even more gorgeous than their pictures indicated, even sweaty with helmet hair as they are. As one, they line up in front of you and salute, introducing themselves with their rank, full name, and callsign. You can hear Amy and Katie’s giggles from behind you as you introduce yourself and your team. The entire time you lay out the plan for the following day, you can feel a set of eyes boring into the side of your face. All the aviators are staring right at you, but Lieutenant Seresin makes you feel like squirming. His green eyes stay on you as you show them the different areas in the hangar and explain the order of the day. Thankfully, they leave the hangar shortly after you tell them their call time for the next morning.

A couple of hours later, everything is ready to go, thanks to Amy, Seb, Kris, and Katie. The corner near the bathroom has two changing rooms set up. Nearby are spaces for the racks of clothing and the makeup station. It will be perfect for the photoshoot you have in mind. The concrete floors are a little chilly, so you text Lea and ask her to add some of the rugs from storage to the truck. You send her a snap of the current layout so she and Adam know what they’re walking into the following morning. You know she and Adam will pick something that complements the gunmetal gray of the planes and the clothing they’re selecting. Before long, you and your team are packed into the back of two Ubers and heading back to the studio for the final part of your day, evaluating the clothing Adam and Lea have picked.

You’re satisfied as you head home that night. Your team has done an amazing job, and the only thing you have to do is pack your cameras and lenses. You carefully wipe and pack each lens and each camera, working as quickly as possible since you have to be at the hangar with an early 6 AM call time. Amy’s picking up the coffee and breakfast deliveries at 7, and the Squadron will show up at 8 AM sharp.

When your alarm goes off at half past four the next morning, you feel barely rested. Your hair is a bird’s nest atop your head, and your eye bags could put a raccoon to shame. But you’ve got a busy day ahead of you, so you gulp a scalding cup of coffee and walk zombie-like into your shower. Forty-five minutes later, you’re dressed in a smart blouse and pencil skirt with heels on your feet and bleary but ready to face the day. You’ve thrown your hair into a French braid snaking down your back and left your makeup and jewelry simple to avoid causing unforeseen sparkles and shadows when Kris and Seb turn the lights on.

Your team has just reached the hangar when you step in. All the lights are on in the early morning haze, and you’re immediately swept up in the preparations. It’s like you’re needed everywhere. You only get fifteen minutes to lay out your camera equipment and hook up the cameras to your laptop before you’re pulled into last-minute adjustment after last-minute adjustment. It feels like barely any time has passed when the aviators swagger through the open hangar door. They’re dressed in khaki uniforms, each holding a hanger with a leather flight jacket.

Adam and Lea direct them to leave their garment bags on an open rack, and you’re off to the races. You start with individual shots of each aviator with their plane and then against the backdrop. You’ve cued up a playlist of Top-40 hits, and you can’t help humming along as you snap away. As expected, it takes a bit for the aviators to warm up to being photographed. Two, Lieutenants Bradshaw and Seresin, take to posing for the camera like a fish out of water. Lieutenant Fitch follows shortly after them. Then all you needed to get Fanboy to cut loose was get him talking about his favorite tv show. You don’t mind the onslaught of Star Trek facts and figures because Lieutenant Mickey Garcia is adorable once you get him smiling and dancing to the songs playing.

That leaves you with Lieutenants Trace and Floyd. Lieutenant Floyd goes next, and the first thing he does when he sees you holding the camera is blush. The bashful look on his face makes a soft squeal slip out of Amy’s mouth, and you side-eye your assistant with your fiercest glare to get her to chill out. Thankfully, Lea drags her away to help with some of the clothing. There’s no need to make the sweetheart even more uncomfortable. Much like Lieutenant Garcia, you try to get him talking. And it works, at least until Lieutenant Seresin opens his mouth and says,

“C’mon, Baby On Board. A pretty girl’s taking your picture, and you can’t even smile? This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, at least for you. You should enjoy it while it lasts.”

You can feel your blood pressure rising at how rude he is and are about to open your mouth to tell him to get out of your field of vision when Lieutenant Floyd does it himself.

“Why, Bagman? Are you afraid that if I start posing for real, all the girls will dump you as fast as possible for me instead?”

You have to stifle your giggles as Lieutenant Seresin blinks wide-eyed at Lieutenant Floyd before walking away.

“That’s a great idea, Bob!” Lieutenant Trace is never one to leave an opportunity to cheer on her WSO.

That’s what breaks the ice between you and Lieutenant Floyd. You feel his solo plane shots have turned out better than the others. The final aviator in uniform to photograph is Lieutenant Trace. But no matter what you do, you can’t get her to loosen up.

“Alright, everyone. Let’s take fifteen. Adam and Lea, can you get the Lieutenants in their formal wear while I finish up with Lieutenant Trace?”

That clears the gentlemen away and leaves you and Lieutenant Trace by the planes. That’s when you finally see a fraction of the tension she holds in her shoulders drain away. She’s still standing stiffly but no longer in full parade rest. You turn the music up, put on ABBA, and pray that the music finally gets her to unwind. It takes a bit, and Lieutenant Bradshaw, now wearing a navy blue tuxedo, wiggling his hips to the beat but unwind she does. He gives you a wink before shimmying away. You can see the rest of your team laughing as the aviators pull out their silliest dance moves.

After finishing up Lieutenant Trace’s final uniform pictures, you leave her in Lea and Katie’s capable hands and start taking the solo shots of the men. They’re all dressed in navy blue tuxedos with white shirts and shiny black dress shoes. There isn’t a tie in sight, and the jackets are perfectly tailored to their figures. You can’t help the impressed looks you give them and mentally note to compliment Lea and Adam later. Everything is going well until you start to see slack-jawed looks where the lieutenants had been smoldering into the camera. You turn and grin satisfactorily as Lieutenant Trace steps forward. Lea had selected a gorgeous crimson and burgundy gown, and Katie had chosen to leave her hair in loose curls. You’re not surprised at the boys’ awe. She looks breathtaking and like her callsign in all its fiery glory. The contrasting color combinations as she joins the boys look fantastic in the pictures.

The final set of pictures happens after a lunch break. The gentlemen are only too eager to slip off their shirts, though you can hear Bob pleading with Lea to spare him. You wish him luck, as you know from experience that Lea’s not one to give in easily. The only other aviator who looks discomfited is Lieutenant Trace. You pull her aside.

"Lt. Trace. How would you feel about doing a shot wearing just one of the men's jackets, some heels, and jewelry? You don’t have to wear one that one of the guys has worn today. Lea and Adam brought plenty of spares."

"Please, call me Natasha. And no. I'm not doing that."

"Natasha, I have a feeling I know why, but would you tell me?" Her shoulders surround her ears as you try to reason with her.

"I'm not going to wear that just to act as the sole piece of eye candy in this group. I got here by working just as hard, if not harder, than all of them. I won't negate all my hard work with a pin-up pose on Navy propaganda."

"Thank you for telling me that. I'm not going to pressure you into doing this. But, I would like to bring one item to your consideration. You think taking a picture like this will negate your hard work. Doesn't that negate your inherent sense of femininity? You're a fighter pilot. Yes. One of the best of the best. But you're also a woman. And to me, that's one of your biggest strengths. Girls walking into Navy recruitment offices deserve to know they can be kick-ass officers and beautiful too.”

You take a breath, cataloging the emotions flitting across her face.

“I'm not asking you to do this shot because you're beautiful. As we both know, you are. I'm asking you to do this shot to show the world that you can be one of the best and still be feminine. Be strong and delicate. Sweet and savage. I want you to show the world that serving your country doesn't mean you have to only act like men. Women can serve and do everything that a man can without compromising anything. Be it their looks, their career, or their femininity."

Your words have resonated with her. You can see the figurative light bulb go off in her head as she resolutely nods, gathers up the skirts of her gown, and walks right towards Lea like a woman possessed. You grin and proceed with taking shots of the others. But this time, it’s Lieutenant Seresin that you’re having problems with. He’s stiff like his charm has melted away. You switch to the others and finish their shots easily. Even Natasha stuns in just the oversized blazer. You take a break and review the pictures on your laptop. They’re all perfect. You’ll need a day or so to clean up any small defects, but other than that, they’re exactly what you were looking for. The Navy will be pleased with the results, you hope.

You just need this one set of pictures from Lieutenant Jake Seresin, callsign Hangman, and you can finally go home and take off your heels and bra. Your irritation grows as you attempt to take the pictures you need five times. Your groan of exhaustion and irritation is far longer and louder than it should be. That’s when you start dismissing your team and the Daggers.

“Head on out, all of you. We have to clean up the hangar by the day after tomorrow when the Daggers leave. I will finish up these photos with Lieutenant Seresin, and we should be following you shortly.”

The Daggers all scramble to change, and it's less than half an hour later when you say farewell as the Daggers and your team file out the Hangar door and close it behind them. That’s when you’re left alone with the one man who’s been driving you crazy all day. You try, futilely, to get him to pose how you want, but no matter what you say and how you move him, the pictures don't turn out like you want them to.

Partway through the latter half of the photo shoot, you'd switched to having all of the Daggers standing against the backdrop. You're regretting that decision now.

You're done, and the blonde idiot is just standing there and smirking at you. In the studio light, you can see every ridge of his abs and the downy hair dotting his torso. You kick your heels off and let your hair out of its braid. After so long in the tight braid, it feels great to let your scalp relax.

You stalk up to Lieutenant Seresin and grab hold of his arm.

"Right. Let's make this easy on both of us. I will position you how I want you, and you won't move. Okay?"

"Darlin', just tell me to jump, and I'll ask you how high."

And now he's trying to flirt with you. Great. You roll your eyes and position his head and arms as you want him. This close, you can smell his cologne, the cedar and plum scent wafting from his skin. It's an expensive scent that is ever so inconsistent with his personality. Thankfully he doesn't fight you as you position him.

You could cry. You're so relieved. You are finally getting the needed pictures, and Lieutenant Seresin is cooperating. His eyes still track you as you stalk barefoot back and forth from the laptop to the lights, all with your camera in tow as you make small adjustments. But you don't feel their weight as self-consciously anymore.

In the final pose, you press on his stomach to get him to straighten his back, and your entire world seems to freeze. His abs are taut, the light dusting of hair soft against your fingers as you glance up at his face. His lips are bitten red as his eyes peer into you. It's electric being this close to him. Something is yearning in his eyes when you step away and take the final pictures.

Your face is hot as you walk back to the table with your laptop and examine the pictures. You're exhausted, but you've finally done it. Of all the pictures, Lieutenant Seresin's looks the best. His photos exhibit strength, passion, and raw sexuality, exposing a stripe of his taut torso and dog tags.

"Damn, darlin'. I knew you were a good photographer when I looked up your work before we flew to New York for this, but I had no idea how good you were. These pictures. They're something else."

You startle at his voice, emanating from near your ear, and jolt out of your seat. You nearly fall, but he catches you, steadying you with an arm wrapped around your waist. You gulp as you’re pressed against his chest. He's so close that you can count the flecks of gold swimming in his green eyes. You can't keep your gaze from trailing over his face, from his eyes down to his lips, and back up again.

"Sweetheart, tell me if I'm reading you wrong, but it looks like you want to kiss me. And I know I want to kiss you. I have since I saw you for the first time yesterday."

You can't keep yourself from nodding at his words. But he's watching you like a hawk and catches your movements. So it's hardly a surprise when he trails his other hand up your side and pinches your chin before slanting his mouth over yours.

He kisses as he flies, you think. Precise and pointed, each brush of his tongue against your calculated to make your cunt clench and throb with need. You're wet, embarrassingly so. He doesn't pull away until your lips are swollen from the rough kiss.

Your chest heaves as he traces his finger across your lips. He's got a smug smirk on his face. You pull away from him, carefully selecting your video camera from all your camera equipment, and return to his plane. You turn on the lights, dimming them until there is just enough light to throw the area in the jet's shadow in relief in your camera, hit record, and beckon him to come to you.

"Lieutenant, it's been a bit since I've had some fun. What would you say if I suggest we make a movie?"

His grin is salacious as he lets the leather jacket fall to the ground and tugs you back into his arms.

"Baby, it'd be my pleasure."

Your answering laugh transforms into a moan as he kisses roughly down your throat, paying special attention to your pulse point. His talented hands trail up and down your waist, nimble hands rucking your blouse up from your skirt until he can finally touch your bare skin. Your moans as he traces patterns across your ribs are muffled in his kiss.

"Jake."

Your voice is breathy and high as you try to get his mouth back on yours. But when you look at his face, something is commanding in his gaze.

"Take your shirt off, baby. Let me see what you're wearing."

You tug your shirt off, thankful there aren't any buttons or ties to impede your progress. Jake’s groan at the sight of the lace covering your breasts sends goose bumps over your skin.

His voice is reverent as he walks around you.

"God, baby. You killed me this morning. Wearing that pretty little skirt and those high heels. I wanted to bend you over and fuck you until you were leaking my cum."

He stops before you, pressing his thumb between your parted lips. He dips it in until it's wet with your pooling saliva and drags it down your throat. His finger drags over the soft flesh of your breasts, leaving a cool, damp trail as he pays special attention to the peaks of your nipples.

He continues walking, stopping at your back and dragging you in until your back is flush against his chest. He positions you with both hands until you're centered with the camera. He keeps up a filthy litany of praise as he carefully uses his thumbs to drag your bra cups down, sending your tits spilling free. His hands immediately find their way to fondle and caress them, calloused fingers kneading and squeezing until your hips are canting unconsciously, searching for additional stimulation.

His smile is filthy when he finally pulls you away, intertwining your fingers with his and leading you to his plane.

"Put your hands on my plane, baby. And whatever you do, don't take them off."

You can't resist your soft moan as you do exactly what he says after unfastening your bra. You can't see his face, but you can feel his lips in the hollow behind your ear as he grinds his stiff cock against your ass.

"Stay there, baby. Gonna take these trousers off so you don't get in trouble if we make a mess."

Your nipples are pebbled in the cool air as you wait for Jake to return to you. You can hear the clink of the belt buckle and the rustle of fabric as he drags the garment off before padding back to you. His hands trail teasingly over your sensitive skin as he brackets your waist. His thumbs rub soothingly at your waist as he peppers kisses across your bare shoulders. Jake then carefully drags the zip at the back of your skirt down and eases it off your hips.

It pools to the ground at your feet, and you shudder at the feeling of his hand on your ass as he collects it and sets it on a chair in your line of sight. He's gorgeous. You can see every line of his muscles and the bulge of his erect cock in his boxers. The only thing you're wearing now is your thong. He slides the flimsy lace off, and that's when you feel his breath across your hole.

"Oh, baby. You're so wet. Wet for your Lieutenant, huh?"

He blows a stream of air over you, and you can feel your hole clench at the sensations.

"What do you want me to do to you, baby? How do you want to cum? On my tongue? On my fingers? On my cock? You gotta tell me, sweetheart."

Your voice is breathy as you babble, "All of them, Jake! I want your tongue, your fingers, and your cock. It's been so long since I came. Please!"

He kisses your shoulder before kneeling and burying his tongue between your thighs. Each brush has you practically sobbing with pleasure. It's been so long since you came that it's only a few minutes before his tongue brings you to the brink of your orgasm. You're already chanting his name, your moans echoing through the hangar.

"Cum," he growls, his mouth still sealed to your cunt, and you're only too happy to comply, your hands scrabbling for something to squeeze on as you ride out the waves of your orgasm on his tongue.

He pulls away after a few minutes and turns you around. His mouth is on you instantly, nipping at your breasts before he kisses you hard. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh as you sink to your knees and free him from the constricting fabric.

It's only fair that you return the favor. So you start with kitten licks flicking across the head of his cock. Each tender pass of your tongue has him moaning. It's not long before his hands find their way into your hair, holding the loose strands in a ponytail at the back of your head. You use the extra leverage to begin deep-throating him in earnest. You use as much suction and saliva as possible, moaning wantonly as he fucks your mouth. His pants and grunts send heat pooling into your cunt as he approaches his orgasm. But before you can convince him to come on your tongue, he jerks himself off over your tits, spurting his release over your skin in hot thick ribbons.

There is a feral look in his eyes at the sight of you like that on your knees, and Jake lopes over to your cameras, carefully grabbing one. He drapes his dog tags around your neck and carefully snaps pictures of the pearl necklace he'd given you. He lays the camera onto the chair before coming back to you.

"Do you still want me to fuck you?"

"Yes." Your consent is less words and more a cock-drunk mewl, but Jake interprets it correctly.

"Can you get on all fours for me?"

You're only too eager to comply, positioning yourself under his eager hands as he takes his spot against your ass.

"I don't have any condoms, baby. How do you want to do this?"

"I'm on the pill, Jake. Please, fuck me. Fuck me raw."

He groans before pressing himself inside you. The slow drag of his big cock as it presses into you has your pulse racing. Jake keeps the pace purposefully slow, using his hands at your hips to hold you still as he deliberately fucks into you. It's so good that each press has you screaming, and you've long since reached the cliff of your orgasm. But what Jake's giving you just isn't enough. That's when you start wiggling your hips to meet his thrusts.

The first heavy smack of his palm against your ass has you freezing completely, caught in the pain-pleasure-pain sensation his hand is wringing out of you. The second has you moaning, your pussy fluttering around his length. His groan is near musical as he continues to smack your ass. Each smack brings you closer to your orgasm, and you're practically begging for it now. You wail when he begins to fuck you again in earnest. His balls smack against the hot skin of your ass as you finally let yourself cum.

Your orgasm is so strong and intense that you black out. When you come to, you're cradled against Jake's chest, his hand tracing lazily over your back. You're both still under his jet. You prop yourself up on his chest with shaking arms and groan at the sensation of cum dripping out of you. It’s several long moments before you rise carefully on wobbly legs. But the sight you see when standing has your cunt clenching in need again. Jake’s torso is now covered in droplets of the mixture of both of your cum. You grab your camera and take a picture of that too.

Jake grins as he collects the bundle of your clothes and follows behind you to the bathroom. You can’t help the gasp leaving your lips as you see yourself in the mirror. He’s marked up your decolletage, and now is when you can feel the painful sting in your ass.

“God, baby. Let me take a picture of your ass? It looks beautiful. You can see my whole hand on it.”

You groan as he presses a kiss against the sore cheek before positioning you and taking the pic. All you can see is the globe of your ass, the handprint, and the cascade of your hair down your back.

“Are you sure you didn’t pick the wrong calling, Jake? You could’ve been a fantastic photographer if you’d chosen to.”

“Oh, I’m sure, darlin’. I love flying too much to regret my decision. And flying brought me to you.”

You grin before beginning to clean yourself up. Jake can’t resist kissing you, and you can’t resist kissing him back, either. Before long, you’re all clean and dressed in your underwear, blouse, and skirt again. Jake even has your shoes and chivalrously kneels to slide them onto your feet. He’s back in his trousers, this time sans the leather jacket. You can’t resist trailing your fingers across his skin and wrapping your arms around his neck as you kiss him. But you have to break away from him. You only add to his current look by slinging his dog tags around his neck.

Back in the hangar, you’re packing up your cameras after ensuring your home movie is saved when the door to the hangar opens. It’s a security guard, and you’re glad he didn’t pop in earlier.

“Hello, miss. I just wanted to check in and make sure everything is alright.”

“Yes, everything is fine, officer. I just finished a photo shoot with my last client, and we’ll leave shortly.”

"Alright, miss. We have to restrict access to the hangar at 11 pm. It's about 9:30 now, so finish up and head on your way."

You can hear Jake opening the curtain to the changing room behind you and can see the Officer's position stiffen as he catches sight of the medals on his breast.

"Sir, apologies, I wasn't aware that the client she mentioned was military."

He's falling over himself, and you can see the smug smirk on Jake's face as he grins and walks the officer out. You can't help grinning as you finish packing your lenses and begin unplugging your laptop after saving all the footage you’d captured today. You know Jake is back when you feel an arm wrap around your waist. You lean easily back into his expensive-smelling embrace and can't resist sagging against him for a few moments.

"It's been a long day, huh, darlin'?" He presses a kiss against your jaw. "Let's get you packed up and home."

You smile at the new, softer side of him and kiss his jaw.

"I'm all packed up. Walk me to my car?"

"'Course, sugar. Give me your camera bag. D'you need to check on anything else before we head out?"

You pad over to all the electrical outlets, hitting the switches on power strips to ensure nothing is still on. The final place you check via phone flashlight is the area under Jake's jet. You're wearing all of your clothing. You just want to make sure you haven't made a mess with your extracurricular activities.

"I cleaned it all up already, baby. It was when you were knocked out after your orgasm."

You startle, having grown used to his presence over the past few hours.

"Then let's head out?"

You relinquish your camera bag to him, keeping your oversized tote on your shoulder as the two of you stride out of the hangar. You lead him to the small parking lot to the side and pop the trunk for your car, thankful you'd decided to drive to the airfield.

"Let me give you a ride to your hotel. It's the least I can do after keeping you so late."

"Darlin', I should be thanking you. I haven't cum like that in a long time."

You've seen the man completely naked and writhed in pleasure at his touch. You shouldn't be so flustered in his presence. But you can't explain the catch in your breath as he opens the driver's side door for you before loping around to the passenger side and settling in. Everything between you and Jake doesn't feel like the aftermath of a hot frantic sexual encounter. It feels like a date. You feel light and easy as you cruise back into the city. The silence between the two of you is comfortable. It’s not long before you drop him off in front of his hotel. He presses a kiss against your lips before swaggering in. And you head home to your small New York apartment, feeling the ghost of his presence as you go.

The next morning, you’re glad you chose to work from home because the first pictures you edit are the ones you’d taken of Jake and the ones he’d taken of you as well as your home movie. You can’t resist fingering yourself as your moans and his grunts spill out of your computer speakers. You don't have to do much editing there, but you carefully load the incriminating footage onto two flash drives — one for you and one for him. The photos for the Navy, too, are edited in no time flat.

It's in the afternoon when you head into the studio. When you get in, you're surprised to see all the Daggers, your boss, your team, and two Admirals waiting for you. Your boss runs the show, introducing and greeting them before the floor is ceded to you. You show the assembled guests the pictures you'd taken for the Navy.

The pictures are well received, especially the photos of Lieutenant Trace. You wink cheekily at her as Admirals Simpson and Mitchell praise the juxtaposition of those shots. As you show the last picture, you can finally breathe. Your boss is proud, especially as the Admirals turn to her and approve the pictures. But you have one final set of pictures to deliver.

"Lieutenant Seresin, apologies. I found this in my bag this morning. It was lying in the changing room when I looked through it to ensure everyone had taken their things. It must've fallen out of the pocket of your flight jacket."

His smirk is salacious as he accepts the flash drive from your hand, apologizing for leaving it there. You hand him a note, too, and leave the room. You would pay to see the look on his face when he sees what you’ve written on it.

Jake - Thanks for last night. Call me the next time you're in New York. I'd love to do it again. It certainly was a photo finish. XXX - XXX - XXXX

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@desert-fern 🎥 @dakotakazansky 🎥 @bobby-r2d2-floyd 🎥 @roosters-girl 🎥 @sarahsmi13s 🎥 @bradleybeachbabe 🎥 @lovinglyeternal 🎥 @roosterforme 🎥 @horseshoegirl 🎥

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #photographer reader #pwp #top gun imagine #top gun smut #jake hangman imagine #hangman smut #hangman fanfiction #hangman seresin #controlled chaos squad

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essentiallyleaf · 7 months

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day 22. daddy kink. with. sakura.

758 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, futa!idol x female reader, daddy kink, cockhungry reader, somewhat rough sex, i’m not feeling very funny tonight.

notes.

they just keep getting shorter! i swear it’s not because i’m procrastinating writing until 12 a.m. though. exhaustedly, leaf.

You met the girl in a mall, she was reading Kafka with the most peaceful, relaxed air, like there was a desert around her, when in reality it was so crowded and loud that you couldn’t hear your friend talk to you from across the table at the coffee shop. She later told you she likes to hear the sound of the artificial waterfall beside the escalator while she reads; you told her, go to the river; she told you, it’s not the same, people go to the river to relax, I don’t read to relax; you asked her, what do you read for?; she answered you, I read to understand what the writer is like in bed. Anyway, you went up to her and asked whether she knew if there was a library in the mall - you knew there was one right around the corner, but pick-up lines aren’t your forte; whose forte are they, if truth be told? - and if she had a book to recommend. “Well, it depends, what do you like?” It’s very easy to make conversation, if you think about it: you can start anywhere you want, and it’s like tributary streams, at some point you always end up channeling into your common interests.

It’s just following the course of the river that leads to her writing down her number on the paper towel you’d gotten with your coffee - “It’s Sakura, by the way, but you can call me Kkura,” she said with a warm smile, like she loved her name, like she had chosen it herself - to the two of you meeting again (neither of you used the word date, but in retrospect, well, yeah) in a bar downtown. They didn’t call themselves a gay bar, but the place had queer written all over it; I mean, Monthly Murder Mystery Monday? Really? To the two of you seeing each other four times in the next week, to her asking if you wanted to come to her house to have a drink after the fourth, cause she wanted to show you her wild animal plushie collection. One thing that surely was wild was the sex, that night. Kkura was plunging into your pussy from the back as you were bent over her bed, ass in the air, and she felt huge inside you. Your face was sunk into the soft light gray-brown fur of the sloth when it escaped your mouth.

“Ngh- ahaadhd- …addy!”

“What did you just say?”

“I- Nothing, I’msor-”

“Again.”

The thing about a river’s delta is, it splits very gradually, just one extra fork at a time, so you don’t really notice how wide it has spread until you’re already deep into it. You start calling her daddy every time you’re hungry for her cock, and she feeds you (the unholy sound of your slurps fills the room like there’s three girls sucking it at the same time, but no, it’s just little old you), then every time you’re hungry. She’s the sweetest girlfriend, you know she’d always get you whatever you’re craving if you asked nicely. You call her daddy when it’s just the two of you, then if there’s close friends around. They still smile jokingly when it happens, but they understand, they know what it’s like; not to be with a girl whose rod that can rearrange your insides, but to be lucky enough to be next to someone that you love and to not be afraid to show it. You almost have a slip up the first time you meet her parents: “Dad- Da… Dadaism was, pretty… wacky, wasn’t it? Duchamp, what an eccentric soul, haha!” Even the save is embarrassing, but it’ll be a great story to tell your kids; ok, maybe not your kids, maybe your friends.

She’s your daddy when you sit on her lap and start grinding on it while she’s having breakfast, when you lay your head on her shoulder and she gropes your tits, only covered by a thin beige t-shirt, while you’re watching Worlds, when she fucks you missionary and slaps your thighs until they become red like your cheeks at her parents’ house, and her fingers gently wrap around your throat, and she kisses you like her throat is burning and only you can help relieve it. You can’t separate freshwater and salt, once you’re out in the sea. It’s all mixed together, as one. And it’s not good or bad, it’s all just part of a natural cycle. Sakura, Kkura, daddy; any name, any place, any time.

footnotes.

my favorite shirt from Raygun is the one that says ‘Iowa: flee to flourish’. friedly, leaf.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #girl group smut #idol smut #female idol smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #idol x reader #idol x female reader #le sserafim #sakura #miyawaki sakura #le sserafim sakura #le sserafim smut #sakura smut #miyawaki sakura smut #le sserafim sakura smut

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ay0nha · 11 months

Text

Some Unholy War | Theseus Scamander (II)

SUMMARY: You could feel the warmth of your frustration start in your chest, only to spread across your skin as goosebumps. The windchill was harsh, but you appreciated the way Theseus noticed—always so attentive. His desires were written on his face; in any other circumstance, his jacket would become yours.

PAIRING: Theseus Scamander x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

WARNINGS: canon-typical things, smoking, angst, morally gray reader, mutual pining, semi enemies-to- lovers, always a protective Theseus, SLOW burn, etc.

A/N: If you saw this originally posted...no you didn’t...I didn’t love the flashback I wrote, so I wrote a different one (which is semi-inspired by this post/idea because I love it, such accuracy @star-writes4). Thank You @kalllistos for your patience with me <3 I have such a cute idea for the next chapter, so stay tuned hehehe...Let me know if you want to be tagged. Enjoy.

PART I, PART III, PART IV

— Years prior —

“You can join me inside, you know…” You spoke to your shadow, lighter illuminating your face in the dark alley. On your exhale, you continued your invitation, “...You’ll catch a cold out here.”

After a few heartbeats of hesitation and avoiding the growing puddles, Theseus came into the dingy reflection of the neon sign. “Not convinced my kind is welcomed…”

“Like that’s ever stopped you…” Your tinted lips perked. Theseus' apparel was enough to give away his position. Always so poised. “There are some people I’m sure you’re dying to meet...”

“I’m out of my jurisdiction here.” His hands remained in his pockets, a nervous tick that seemed to run in his family. It was a deceiving behavior, as it came across as a part of his confident stature. “...and overdue for a holiday.”

“Of course.”

Theseus’ hair perked at the humidity. The gel struggled to keep the curls at bay while rain pelted the architecture. The heavy pattern created a cool draft through the outside entryways and a whistling that challenged the music emanating from within the small club.

“Don’t look so stiff, Theseus.” You teased, but he had yet to seem very receptive. “You can be anyone you want here.”

He hummed with genuine nature that briefly peeked out. “And who are you tonight?”

Your eyes were always sharp, cutting through him easily. When you were kids, it was enough to scare him off, but Theseus became fortified. Yet, you knew how he worked just as well. He had a knack for easing you into a conversation riddled with hidden questions and desires. It was as if he softened the blow for something that he knew would end poorly. Your frown began.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Unwavering in your response, you flicked the remnants of your cigarette into the street. Theseus swallowed his scoff at the action, but it only fueled your conviction. “Add it to my list of grievances.”

His gaze was determined, dancing around something obvious. The stack of papers on his desk most likely doubled in his absence. When he saw your name, he was ready to pass it off like any of the others. It hadn’t caught his attention until it ruminated in his mind so long that he spent hours digging through files to confirm that it really was you.

He reminisced about the old school days, expecting clues to reemerge to explain your behavior. Yet, all he could remember was how you were a few years younger—your nose always pointed to the sky in hopes of finding something more interesting than what was before you. The faded memories merged together the longer Theseus dwelled on them.

“You want to know what I think?” He prodded, waiting for your hum of encouragement. You wore a dress made for dancing, and your lips were painted a sinfully alluring shade of red. Theseus almost succumbed to the distraction. “You’re someone out of their depth.”

There it is, you thought. The pleasantries would only last for so long until Theseus tallied your faults. You knew it was part of a greater protective character, but you’d evolved, and he favored ignoring your independence.

“Oh, Theseus…” You tutted with a sore smile, arms locked together with defensiveness. “...and here I thought you missed me.”

“What have you gotten yourself into?” He moved closer to you, trying to soothe your frown. Holding back from reaching out, Theseus persisted, “If you have a time-turner—

“We’re not in school anymore.” The argument felt juvenile, but you spat your words quickly, unwilling to meet your sentence. “I can handle myself.”

The situation was ironic due to how time ruled the very encounter. It was only a matter of time until Theseus latched onto the rumor that brought him here. And there was only so much time left before his warning would become a threat. The possession of such an item had added weight to your shoulders. It was a new sensation, and the buzz of adrenaline that came with it was irredeemable. It only worsened when you learned it came easily to you. It was a genuine skill.

You could feel the warmth of your frustration start in your chest, only to spread across your skin as goosebumps. The windchill was harsh, but you appreciated the way Theseus noticed—always so attentive. His desires were written on his face; in any other circumstance, his jacket would become yours. But you cut him off before he could offer, clipping the argument with the truth.

“It is nice to see you, Theseus.” Just not like this, you omitted. “How’s Newt?”

“Still finding himself in all sorts of…well—you know how Newt…” His hands returned to his pockets as he shuffled slightly. “...those creatures…His creatures are doing well, I suppose…it’s always a fine way of passing time…”

Theseus wasn’t one to ramble nor participate seriously in small talk. Yet, with you mitigating the conversation, it was hard to ease back into what he had come for. Your change in topic wasn’t a distraction at all, just another dig at Theseus’ character.

“You should learn to take people more seriously.” You bit at your own defense veiled by his brother’s prospects. “Maybe then, you’d get what you want.”

The forgotten rain began to pick up. A soft spray that snuck past the protection of the awning begged for you to find warmth inside. You refused to curl into yourself. Instead, you pushed yourself off the brick wall to brush everything into the past.

“Enjoy your holiday, Theseus.”

“Look—” Stopped by your arm, Theseus paused with thought. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I know what I’m doing.” You were softer this time, but your furrowed brow still exposed your upset. But it relaxed as Theseus's hand trailed your arm to find your hand.

“I don’t doubt that.” He spoke earnestly.

Quietness followed the slight embrace that you broke after a small squeeze. The contact allowed Theseus to speak freely, but you wouldn’t listen to more. You knew what he would say, and that was enough.

“Let me buy you a drink.” You blamed the barflies stumbling out the door beside you for your sentimentality. Theseus gave you a tentative look you knew you could break. “Just the one…And if you’re lucky, I’ll tell you what I know.” It was a promise. “I’m feeling charitably inclined tonight.”

The tips of Theseus’ fingers continued to tingle despite their loneliness. His pockets felt cold. “And why’s that?”

“I’ve met someone.”

— Present Day —

You hadn’t believed in love, and you were ready to carry that grudge—until him.

Avery Sinclair.

It wasn’t proper love, proving your skepticism in the emotion correctly. But it was the closest you’ve ever been, would ever be. He charmed you with his intelligence but decidedly made pearl dust a main ingredient in your relationship. It ensured your vision was so muddled you were willing to sacrifice yourself for him. Avery determined your demise before you could even pick up a scent.

The auror, he had told you. Rid us of him.

To this day, the memory was disillusioned by your coerced fidelity. The memory was more of an overlapping feeling. It was like your body wasn’t your own, stepping into an event without an invitation. You could still feel the heat of the fire you started and the desperation of your scream when you were pushed to your knees. Even then, you failed to remember things coherently.

Yet, when your vision finally cleared, only Aurors surrounded you. Theseus fronted the brigade with a grimace that reflected his disdain. You hadn’t known the expression was a mix of pity and guilt due to the fact that his name would be inherently tied to your public conviction. You just felt like you could finally breathe without a struggle.

“Did you hear me?” Theseus prompted you again, pulling you out of a shared past. He noted your gaze drifting, a thousand-yard stare replacing a genuine exchange. “Listen carefully; we only have so much time until—

“This is what your promotion got you.” You observed the spacious office you’d been in. Your tone asked if it was worth it. Your value was reflected in the fine leather seats, the expensive wood desk, and the plaque that named Theseus’ higher position.

Those who transported you expected catastrophe, but you entrusted your silence. You were calculated enough to know when to hold your tongue, but once in the atrium of the Ministry, you could no longer sit so stoically.

Theseus went to say your name, imploring you to focus, but you only challenged him. He held your stare just as strongly, “You underestimate the scale of this.”

“As if that matters...” You frowned only to follow with deeply rooted sarcasm, “...in a system that is so fair and competent.”

Your words were your only defense against something so factual. Although you were in danger, it had yet to actualize and frighten you as it had Theseus. To him, you were ready to give up, engage entirely with the peril Sinclair would unleash. Your indifference only confirmed his sentiments.

Theseus began to pace. With each step, he attempted to restrain his insults. How you looked at him only provoked a wave of pent-up anger, “You have always been so cruel…”

“If I'm cruel, then what does that make you, Theseus?” You were ready for the conversation; your thoughts honed and practiced. “If I'm cruel, then you must be something much worse.”

“I'm trying to help you.” His voice was low, afraid those whispering about your presence—capture—would overhear his admission. In time, you’d learn that his words were genuine, that he was risking more than you realized.

“No.” You spoke definitively, head shaking with refutation. “What you do is selfish. You help with a suffocating hand—

“You don’t get to make this my fault. You chose him.” The silence to follow echoed his regret. You eyed his uncharacteristic agitation as he tried to rectify his mistake.

“Theseus!” A voice boomed, entering the office. Torquil Travers. “There you are, now—This is her?” With a passing look of disgust, he let out another booming statement. “Have you located Sinclair?”

“Yes, sir.” Theseus’ bluntness evaporated the previous argument. Yet, his eyebrow twitched. The micro expression revealed too much. His body contradicted his words.

You rolled your eyes at the formality. After all these years, Theseus still couldn’t shake the nickname that followed him during his younger years—Schoolboy hero.

Suck up, you thought.

“Ensure this gets done.” Travers’ attitude indicated he felt the time in Theseus’ office was already wasted. “Quietly.”

Theseus held a tight-lipped smile. “Of course, sir.”

Time, too, was his concern, and it became obvious the longer Travers remained in his office. You wanted answers of your own, but you could be patient as there were more pressing desires.

“These come off.” You said evenly, gaining the attention of those in the room. Yet, Travers looked around as if your voice was foreign and your presence was no more than a nuisance.

His posture straightened with arrogance, prompting Theseus, “Handle that.”

That. Your position was clarified. You were no longer a person, no longer a witch. You were—that. Theseus felt ill, agreeing once again to his boss’ request before he left. Theseus intentionally kept his back to you, trying to form the words that explained what he had to do—what he was assigned to do. Handling that meant telling you the cuffs were to stay on.

Emotion flooded your chest; you missed your isolation. Solitude made things simpler. Though now there was no choice. You were to be bait; you were meant to lure Sinclair in. It was Theseus’ idea, only as a form of protection and to bide time for him to figure out something more promising.

With a hand tucked in his waistband and the other rubbing across his jaw in thought, Theseus stared ahead at his desk. He seemed at a loss and could only resort to honesty. “I want you to trust me.”

You did. You had. You relied on him in the past. At one point, you would have considered him the only one that had the privilege. You thought he had understood that. Your relationship had naturally ebbed and flowed. It was required when you were such opposites, but mutual respect helped it remain.

Theseus promised he wouldn’t follow you that night, but that was the same night he was no longer a man of his word. For your own good, his own remark nauseated him. It had felt so right at the moment, a moment of long-coming justice, but it was not only a trap for you but for him.

He would never fall for it again. With a weak rasp of the knuckles to his desk, Theseus’ mind settled. His side was chosen.

Coming close, he crouched down to your seated level. You remained still, his motions far too interesting to pull away. He began trailing your arms until he reached the metal at your wrists. “...You’re not safe with them on.”

You'd grown so accustomed to the weight of the bracelets on your wrists. They weighed you down in every way you could imagine. You learned to move with them smartly, using your magic so strategically that it felt like a chore rather than an extension of yourself. And now, seeing your wrists empty, you fought off a misplaced nostalgia.

You had never meant to become the villain. You just didn't know what else to do.

Theseus watched as your eyes welled with emotion, knowing you’d never let actual tears form. He thought to move forward and bring any sort of comfort to the situation, but you moved quicker than the thought was formed.

“No!–Don’t—”

His breath was lost, the world around him dissolving into a deep color. Your hand gripped his collar, but it felt like he was being pressed hard from all directions. The journey was nauseating and familiar. The surroundings no longer reflected the Ministry, the marble flooring was replaced by puddles, and the air was no longer crisp but heavy with humidity.

Your laugh bubbled, starting slowly with the feeling of surprise that evolved into pure joy. You refused to be tracked by your magic, so you typically abstained. The feeling of magic again was like a feeling of renewal—an electricity that scratched a phantom itch.

You glanced at a flushed Theseus, “...Remember this place?”

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rookieleonskennedy · 11 months

Text

unholy communion

Just posting one of my fics from ao3 onto here (:

Rookie!Leon x fem!reader

Description: “What a pretty angel, letting a devil split her open on his cock.”

WARNINGS/tags: MDNI, dominant Leon, spit kink, religion kink, religious imagery, praise kink, size kink, breeding kink, choking, unsafe sex, PWP, no y/n

Enjoy!

The motel room Leon found for you two after the events of Racoon City was modest at best, but to your weary and sore bodies it might as well have been a five-star resort. Leon had taken the initiative to check you two in, as you trailed behind him blindly, exhausted from the day’s events.

“I hope you don’t mind…” Leon began, giving you a shy look over his shoulder as he began to lead the way to where you would be sleeping for the night. “I only got us one room. It’s just…after the events of today I didn’t want to be alone.” He cleared his throat hastily, “Didn’t want you to be alone, I mean.” His voice trailed off at that, cheeks flushing red.

You smiled at his bashfulness, “I don’t mind that at all Lee,” you said honestly, as you felt the same as he did. Knowing that he would be close by throughout the night relaxed you, and you felt an invisible weight lift off your shoulders. You knew that if he had gotten you two separate rooms it was unlikely you would have slept at all.

“I can’t wait to wash all this fucking grime off of me!” You groan, looking down at your hands in disgust. They were practically grey, covered in God knows what. Leon chuckled heartily at your exclamation, looking down at his own hands in agreement, “You’re telling me.” He mumbled, finally stopping at one of the motel room doors.

“This is us,” Leon muttered, fumbling with the room key as he worked to unlock the door. You almost collapsed in relief at his statement, your body yearning for the warmth of a shower and the comfort of a bed. He finally opened the door, and you could have sobbed in relief at the sight before you. A beautiful king-sized bed lay in the middle of the room, looking like it could swallow you whole in its comforting down.

“You take a shower first,” Leon stated, nodding toward the bathroom at the back of the room. “I’ll check out the surrounding area to make sure we’re safe while you’re in there.” You hum in grateful acknowledgment, already headed in the direction he motioned to.

You set the water just shy of scalding, shedding your dirtied and destroyed clothes before stepping into the hot spray. You moan at the feeling of the hot water running in rivulets down your skin, taking the dirt and grime from your earlier adventures down the drain with it. Thankfully, the motel provided bath products for you to use, and the calming scent of lavender overtook your senses as you freed your skin from the blanket of grime encapsulating it.

When you were done, your skin was raw from all the scrubbing required to cleanse yourself, but you didn’t care. You were just glad to finally be clean. Toweling off the excess water that still clung to your skin, you found a plush cotton robe to pull on hung in the bathroom and then wrung your hair mostly dry with a towel. You headed out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, finding Leon sitting in one of the chairs by the bed.

He smiled at you as you exited the bathroom, “Well, well, look at you!” He exclaimed, flashing you a playful wink. “All cleaned up and feeling better, huh?” He asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he looked at you, and a blush rushed to your cheeks.

“Mhm,” you hummed. “I feel so much better now.” You flashed a smile at him. “Your turn to clean up, you stink!” You tease him as you sat on the bed. “I’ll order us food while you’re in there.”

Leon laughed at your teasing with a shake of his head, “Okay, okay. I guess that’s only fair. Make yourself comfortable on the bed, I can stay in the chair next to it tonight.” He headed towards the bathroom to clean himself up, and you ordered the food to be delivered to the room.

A little while later Leon walked out of the bathroom wearing a cotton robe just like yours, his wet hair pushed back off his head to reveal his whole face to you. Your face heated once more. While his bottom half was completely covered by the tied robe, the top part was slightly loosened, revealing his bare, toned chest to your gaze.

“Food on the way?” He asked with a grin in your direction, catching you staring at his chest. “U-uh, yeah. It’s coming.” You stuttered, flustered at the sight before you. Leon chuckled at your reaction. “You okay?’ he asked, seeming genuinely concerned for a moment before he winked at you playfully once again. “Your face is pretty red,” he added with a kind smile. “I’m not that pretty to look at am I?”

Your face reddened even further at being caught ogling him before you looked down at your fidgeting hands and whispered “You have no idea how good you look, Lee.” You hoped that he didn’t hear your quiet declaration.

If you had been looking up at him instead of your hands, you would have noticed the slight pink blush that had risen to his cheeks, as he heard you, but decided not to comment. He distracted himself from responding by looking for the remote, which he produced with a triumphant little “Aha!” aimed in your direction. You raised your eyebrows at him, mirth written in your eyes.

He waggled the remote at you, “Anything, in particular, that you feel like watching?” He asked with a small smile. You settled back into the bed with a hum, shaking your head slightly. “Whatever you want is fine, Lee.” He nodded, once again sitting in the chair next to the bed while scanning through the channels for something suitable.

Soon he found some silly reality show on the television, and it had both of you giggling like crazy at the shenanigans happening on screen. The food had arrived shortly after he put the show on, and both of you ate ravenously, bodies craving nourishment after the strenuous events of the day.

Both of you had finished your meals, and Leon had graciously cleaned up the trash before resuming his spot in the chair next to you in the bed. His eyes were glued to the TV screen, while yours were glued to the shape of his jaw, outlined in the soft glow of the show flashing in the corner of your periphery. Your chest felt warm with affection and anxiety, as you worked up the courage to ask him a question.

“Lee?” You spoke softly, trying to grab his attention. He looked over at you with a soft smile, blue eyes searching for yours. “Yeah?” He replied, just as soft as you. “What’s up? Do you need something? I can get it for you.” He could tell by the look on your face that you were nervous, but for what he didn’t know. His own chest fluttered in anticipation.

“Earlier you said that you were going to sleep in that chair…” You fidgeted with your hands, pulling at your fingers in nervousness. “But, can you come and stay in the bed with me, please? I like having you close after…everything.” Your face burned from embarrassment, ready for him to reject you for such a childish request.

However, his face lit up at your words, as he had secretly been craving the closeness you desired but was too timid himself to say anything. He smiled warmly at you, his heart picking up pace inside his chest. “Oh, of course,” He replied immediately. “I would never say no to that.” He was actually quite giddy that you had asked him to share the bed and had no qualms about it. “It’d make me feel better too.” He added, coming to rest next to you under the soft covers of the bed.

You scooted closer to him, the warmth of his body pressing into yours was a soothing balm on your frayed nerves. Tentatively, you rested your head on his chest. “Thanks, Lee,” you whispered against his skin delicately.

His shoulders relaxed upon the contact of your head on his chest, for having you close was as much a balm to him as it was to you. His arms encircled you, pulling you ever so slightly closer, and squeezed you gently. “You comfy?” He asked, genuinely curious, as he brushed your hair back from your face and behind your ear. “I can readjust if you’re not.”

You hummed in the affirmative as his hand stroked your hair affectionately, nuzzling into his firm chest and relaxing at the safe feeling his arms around you brought. His gaze on you was tender, and he smiled down at your figure resting on his chest. He gave your body another squeeze before a hand trailed down to your back and began tracing your spine through the robe in feather-light strokes.

“You’re safe now,” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head in promise. You kissed his chest in response, your hand coming up to stroke his midriff gently. You felt him shiver under your fingers at the touch.

“Lee?” You whispered, looking up at him through your lashes from your position on his chest. “Yes, dear?” He responded softly, raising his eyebrows slightly as he looked down at you. He gave you another comforting squeeze, letting you know that he was listening to whatever you wanted to say to him.

You took a deep breath, eyelashes fluttering. Your gaze flickered between his eyes and his lips quickly before you spoke, “Kiss me?” you whispered, as butterflies took flight in your abdomen.

Leon’s own breathing had hitched beneath the ear you rested on his chest, his eyes immediately flitting to your lips. He swallowed nervously, heart pounding in his chest. His face had a beautiful pink blush as he responded, “U-uh, yeah. Y-yeah I can do that.” He answered in a hushed tone, as if speaking too loudly would make you change your mind.

You smiled up at him in relief, but made no move yet, wanting him to initiate the contact. Leon took a moment to steady himself before placing his hand beneath your chin and guiding your face up to his ever so slowly. You both closed your eyes, noses brushing together tenderly. Leon gently placed his lips upon yours, in a soft, sweet peck before moving back in a bit more insistently. His arms then wrapped around you tightly, his hands desperately winding themselves in your hair. The kisses he gave you were filled with nervousness, but also excitement, hope, and adoration.

You sighed happily into the kisses, your own hands resting on each side of Leon’s neck. His pulse fluttered like a bird’s wings beneath your touch. His lips were unbelievably soft against yours, plush like fine velvet. You shuddered at the feeling of his hands in your hair, your skin flushing red at the intimate touch.

Wanting to be closer to him, you threw a leg over his hips, allowing you to straddle him. The new angle allowed the two of you to kiss deeper, more passionately, and you felt Leon groan heartily into your mouth at the heightened sensations.

His hands traveled from your hair and down the robe covering your sides, coming to rest on the swell of your hips. He was lost in you, his whole being now simmered down to the connection of your lips on his. You felt the same, your world had condensed until all that existed was the man beneath you. His body was the only galaxy in which you existed, and the constellations covering his skin were now yours to chart.

Your hands roamed across Leon’s chiseled chest, thumbs reverently caressing each side of his neck before your hands found themselves tangled into his damp blond hair. Your chests pressed firmly together, and you could feel Leon’s pulse hammering alongside your own.

The revelation that he was just as affected by you as you were by him sent a beam of heat straight to your core, and your thighs tightened briefly. You swallowed the soft moans emanating from Leon’s mouth at this motion eagerly, offering a few lewd noises of your own in return.

The feeling of your hands in his hair had Leon leaning into the touch, a groan rumbling in his throat. Hearing your moans mingling with his own sent him into a frenzy of passion, and he began to kiss you more intensely, your bottom lip becoming entrapped between his teeth. You gasped at the pain as it melted into pleasure, tugging sharply on Leon’s hair in response.

His breathing became ragged at this, a loud whine escaping his throat. The grip he had on your hips tightened, before his hands began to travel back up your sides and then threaded themselves in the hair at the nape of your neck. With a sharp tug, Leon pulled your head back, tearing your lip from the hold of his teeth and angling your neck to the side for easier access.

He began to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down the soft expanse of your throat, his teeth grazing your pulse point hesitantly before he finally gained resolve and sank them gently into your skin with a possessive groan. His body trembled like a leaf beneath yours as the sensation of his teeth marking your neck caused you to keen, high and reedy, in the back of your throat.

You were panting in desire at this point, the arousal coursing through your veins felt like shooting stars beneath your skin, a sensation like no other. “Lee,” you whined. “Feels good.” He huffed against your neck, continuing to softly pepper the skin of your neck with mottled bruises.

A fire was kindling low in your stomach, but you wanted more. You tugged his hair, removing his mouth from your neck, his gaze meeting yours inquisitively. “You don’t have to be gentle with me, Lee. I won't break.” Something ignited within his baby blues at this revelation, his pupils overtaking the soft hue of his iris.

With a desperate moan, he began to handle you more roughly. His teeth sunk into your skin harder than before, and his hands moved beneath the cotton of your robe to squeeze the globes of your ass tightly.

“Oh God,” you keened, your head thrown back in otherworldly bliss. The sting of his teeth on your neck and the brush of his hands on your skin felt like rapture, an exaltation of pleasure you would continue basking in for as long as he would let you.

Looking down at him, and seeing the way he had lost himself in the touch of your skin sent sparks dancing across your nerves. “I’m yours Lee,” you gasp, the words falling from your lips like a lost sinner’s confession. “Do whatever you want with me.”

Leon’s hands shook against your skin as he took in your words, his forehead coming to rest upon the small patch of your chest that had become uncovered in the midst of your kissing. Your words were a hymn that he had once thought to be long lost, a hymn that he thought would never bless the ears of a reprobate such as he. This was a gift he would not squander and a song that he craved to hear forevermore.

He planted a swift kiss on your chest before speaking, “I’m going to take my time with you.” His tone was low and husky, and he flashed you a devilish grin before placing more kisses across the swells of your chest.

A shiver wracked through your body at his darkened tone, your hips undulating down upon his lap beneath you, searching for sinful friction. Having nothing on beneath your robe, you could feel, very well, the bulge that resided beneath Leon’s own covering against your dripping core.

He groaned softly at your movements against him, his face flushed a dark red. His breath was hitching in his throat, and you knew that your hip’s rotation against his was riling him up. His hands fluttered from your rear to the tie of the robe at your waist, fingers slowly but nimbly undoing the knot he found there.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me, sweet thing.” He chuckled. You pulled his head back sharply by his hair in response, making him look you in the eye as you ground your hips downward forcefully, gasping as his bulge grew under your gyrations. “I think I have an idea,” you managed to whimper out, eyes fluttering at the sensation beneath you.

Leon let out a whimper of his own, his eyes widening when you grind down on him. “Fuck,” he whispered, looking into your eyes with desperation. You were a new messiah above him, an idol he could gladly worship for the rest of his days. “You like what you feel? What you see?” He continued hoarsely, arousal clear in his voice.

You moaned loudly, dragging his spit-slick lips up to meet yours in a bruising kiss with a rough pull of his hair. He could have sworn he felt God at that moment. “Yes,” you breathed into his open and panting mouth, “I like it so much, Lee.” His eyes fluttered closed as his lips locked with yours and he groaned into your mouth. His teeth nibbled on your bottom lip, another moan escaping from your throat as he did so. His face was dusted red with lust, his hands fervently trailing across your skin under your now untied robe.

He broke the kiss to take a deep breath, his head thrown back against the headboard as he helped you slide the cotton material off your body. “God, fuck.” He panted, eyeing your now naked form, before reconnecting his mouth with yours forcefully. You continued to grind down on his lap, the friction feeling like heaven on your needy and swollen clit.

“Lee,” you whimpered needily. “Touch me, please.” You were practically begging, needing more of Leon. Needing him closer, needing him deeper than sitting astride his lap would allow.

You were an angelic vision in Leon’s eyes, a holy temptation sent from some higher power to break him down until he was nothing but an obedient servant to you. He would readily tear himself apart for this, would gladly bare himself as a sacrifice at the altar of your body day after day if it meant that he could hear the saccharine words of sin spilling from your lips above him again and again until the day he died.

He let out a soft, needy, whimper. “My God…I will.” His hands caressed your sides before resting on your inner thighs with a rough squeeze. He could see the wetness pooling between them, the manna he craved to devour so close, but he could not give in to his temptation to eat just yet.

“I’ve gotta go slow, make it worth the wait for you.” He panted, fingertips moving ever so closer to the wet apex of your thighs. You keened as his fingertips got closer, but not nearly close enough, to where you wanted them.

“Need you so bad, Lee,” You pulled at his hair in sexual frustration, “Wanna make you feel good.” He gasped at your admission, a flustered moan leaving his lips. Your words made him feel weak, like an ancient temple crumbling into ruin.

“I know, Angel. And you are making me feel so good, I just wanna make sure you feel the same way.” His hands cupped your face, “Patience is a virtue, remember?” He smirked at you teasingly.

You leaned into his touch on your face with a small groan, “Damn my virtue, Leon. I want you more than I want it.” As soon as the words had left your mouth, Leon knew that a new Psalm had been written. One that he knew he had to get you to sing, one that he knew he had to sing with you.

With an animalistic groan, Leon flipped you onto your back, shedding himself of his robe while he did so. His cock was hard and proud against his abdomen, and you moaned at the sight of it hovering above you. Swollen and red, the tip leaked a steady stream of precum onto your stomach while Leon’s arms bracketed your head, and his lips swallowed yours in another heavenly kiss.

Your hands found themselves tangling in Leon’s hair yet again, using the leverage gained from their grip to hitch your hips up slightly and run your wet folds across his throbbing cock with a gasp. His answering noise was absolutely sinful , and one of his hands came to wrap around your throat. “Please,” he whimpered, squeezing his hand around your throat. The pressure he applied on your neck was just enough to have you seeing stars, your eyes rolling back into your head from the sensation.

“Not yet,” he ground out, hand releasing your throat. “Be a good girl and let me have my fill, and then you’ll get stuffed full of my fat cock. That okay?” He tapped the side of your face twice as he said this, waiting for your response. “Yes sir!” You whimpered.

This new, dominant side of Leon sent your head spinning. He looked at you reverently, like an apostle looking at their messiah for approval. Having given him yours, Leon moved down your body, whispering praises against your skin as he made his way down to your throbbing heat.

Settling himself between your shaking thighs, Leon looked up at you from his position and groaned in pleasure.

You were the Ark of the Covenant, a beautiful and sacred relic seated before him, forbidden to be touched and sullied by the likes of him. But he had fought his temptation for you for so long, and he was nothing but a dirty sinner, after all. Finally giving in to the carnal desires of his flesh, Leon’s mouth found its way onto your dripping cunt with a hum.

Your body came alight at the touch of his mouth on your core. Your back arched, your hands flew to his hair to lace themselves in it, and your heels dug into his back.

The fervent strokes of Leon’s tongue against your folds was your resurrection. Before this moment you had perished, your body slowly returning to the dust from whence you came. But with each suckle on your clit, and each lap of his tongue against your greedy hole, Leon had gifted your once withering body with the breath of life.

His mouth was insistent, never breaking from its attachment to your wet heat even despite the way your body undulated beneath his divine ministrations. His tongue lapped at your cunt like it was holy water, blessed for Leon by God himself. He would rather be damned than waste a single drop of the liquid manna that had been bestowed upon him.

You cried out in bliss as Leon worked, hands and thighs tightening around him. “M’gonna come,” you slurred, eyelids heavy from lust as you peered down at the man worshiping your cunt.

The sight before you had the fire within your stomach roaring into an inferno, an orgasm washing over you, consecrating your body into hallowed ground.

Leon’s hair fanned out between your thighs like a golden halo as his sapphire blue eyes met yours while you came undone on his face. He looked saintly , an absolute picture of sinful devotion painted between your trembling thighs. You wanted to capture this profane image of him and have it turned into a prayer card, one whose iconography you would eternally devote yourself to.

Leon moaned deeply at the feeling of you unraveling on his tongue. Committed to giving you as much pleasure as possible, he continued fucking you with his tongue until your delicate hands were no longer pulling him in, but rather pushing his head away.

He traveled up your body slowly, placing reverent kisses to your skin as he made his way up to your face. Hovering above you, he was enraptured. Your face was flushed red with arousal, eyes cloudy from the post-orgasm haze. You looked like lust personified, your body the picture of cardinal sin.

“Please, let me fuck you.” His words fell upon your ears not as a mere plea for the secular comfort of your flesh, but as a devout prayer. Here he knelt before you, begging for your intercession on behalf of his engorged cock.

Who were you to deny such a pretty prayer? He had been most devoted to your pleasure, therefore it was only right to answer his request in the affirmative.

“Fuck me.” You said as you nodded, spreading your legs, revealing the altar of your body to him once more. Ever the acolyte to your demands, Leon wasted no time situating himself between your spread thighs.

You helped him guide his aching dick to your entrance as his forearms came to rest on either side of your head. Your noses brushed gently, a gasp being passed between the two of you as his tip slipped past the first ring of muscle separating your sex from his.

He kept pushing forward, and one of his hands moved to cup your jaw as his own went slack at the feeling of you enveloping him. Your pulse danced beneath his hand, and your eyes rolled back into your head as the sweet pressure of him filling you overwhelmed your senses. He was so big, and so thick. You were uncertain if your body could make a home for him inside itself.

That thought quickly banished itself, however, when his dick finally made its final push to seat itself inside you. With a breathy moan, you relished in the feeling of having Leon seated snugly inside you.

He had you crucified on his cock, and yet your body still craved more. Your hands scrambled to find purchase on his shoulders as you mewled at the euphoric sensation of his member stretching you out.

“Oh, My God.” Leon groaned against your mouth, your fluttering walls squeezing him so tightly that he was unsure he could move within you.

“Please move, Lee.” You whined, and ground yourself down onto his cock. His hand on your jaw spasmed, squeezing your face briefly in surprise at your movements.

He gasped, and pressed his lips to yours in a heated and sloppy kiss. The hand on your jaw shifted to your neck, and with a gentle squeeze in warning, Leon began pistoning his hips into yours.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving marks in their wake, and your legs wrapped themselves around his hips for stability. The drag of his swollen cock against your walls sent your mind reeling, and you swore to yourself. “Fuck!”

This was an ascension. Leon’s hand squeezing with the perfect pressure against your neck, his lips continuously meeting yours in brutal kisses, a litany of filthy and vile invocations leaving his lips between each one, his dick being angled at just the right spot to make you see stars, and each slide in and out of your squelching wetness had you swearing that he was bringing you closer to heaven’s gates.

Leon growled, his voice demanding and wild. “Are you gonna let me come in you, my angel? Gonna let me stuff your pussy full of me?” You keened at his words, the fire in your stomach heating to an inferno once more.

“Yes,” you panted. “Give it to me, Lee.”

With a moan, Leon released your throat, only to use his now free thumb to force your mouth apart. “Open up.” He demanded, and when you willingly complied, his thumb brushed past teeth to rest on your tongue, and he spat into your mouth with a dark laugh. “What a pretty angel, letting a devil split her open on his cock.”

Swallowing his spit around his thumb greedily, you moaned, clenching even tighter around his cock as it continued to forcefully fuck in and out of you.

The feeling of your walls clamping down on his dick, and the visual of you eagerly swallowing his spit, sent Leon flying over the edge of pleasure. His hips stuttered, burying him as deep in you as he possibly could as his cum painted your insides white.

Seeing Leon come undone above you, and feeling his warm release spill inside you, you were sent careening into ecstasy alongside him. Your cunt clamped down on him hungrily as you came with a small yell, your muscles working to keep his seed inside you, a communion offering you were determined to savor.

After a few moments spent catching his breath, Leon pulled out of you with a soft whine, collapsing next to you on the bed. He shuffled a bit before pulling you into his chest and under the covers with a soft, “C’mere.”

You nuzzled into his sternum when he prompted you closer, and you felt him press soft, sweet kisses to the crown of your head as you pressed one to his chest. You two stayed that way throughout the night, sleeping soundly in the arms of one another.

#leon kennedy #leon s. kennedy smut #leon x reader #leon x reader smut #rookie leon kennedy #rookie leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #reader insert #rookie writes

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georgeweasleyslostearhq · 1 year

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ok but imagine reader being like rivals/enemies w xavier and finds out that xavier is going on a date w someone and reader gets jealous and drinks alot and she confesses to xavier yk

ok yes!

YOU KNOW WHAT?

parings: Xavier Thorpe x Fem!reader summary: you confess to Xavier while drunk Warnings: swearing, drinking, jealousy

"you are so annoying" you chuckled sarcastically

"and why do you think that?"

"because you're a dick" you snapped at him

"how?" he stuffed his hands in his pockets, lifting his shoulders as he looked at you

"all you do is torment me and tease and make fun of me, you think you're so much better than everybody else but guess what? you're not. you're an asshole and you need to fucking grow up because it's getting sad" you ranted

"you think you're much better?" he scoffed

you laughed at him "I don't need to be better than you"

"then why the hell are you still here?" he glared at you

"why are you still here?" you replied "it's like you want to hear how much of an ass you are"

"just stay away from me, alright? you seem to be around me a lot for someone who hates me" he requested

"you hate me too" you stated

"never said I didn't" he clenched his jaw

you started to walk away from him but you heard him speak softly "what a fucking bitch"

"oh fuck off" you flipped him off

3rd person

Enid talked on and on about the new gossip of the the school as the girl who sat next to her yawned in boredom.

the bubbly blonde rambled on about Xavier allegedly going on a date with one of the Vampire girls

"oh yeah, I heard about that!" Yoko said

Y/n groaned in annoyance "can we change topic now"

"we know you don't like Xavier, Y/n but we're just talking gossip. wouldn't you want to know about it?" Enid asked

"No, I don't want to know that. I could not care less about what he does" you rolled your eyes

"I can't even say his name?" Enid asked

"that would be perfect, actually" you nodded

Enid and Yoko sighed, raising their eyebrows as they looked at each other

"ok, so what are your plans tonight?" Enid quizzed awkwardly

"probably getting wasted and falling asleep on a bench somewhere" you shrugged

"why, exactly?" Yoko questioned

"I don't know, feel like it" you yawned

"please don't hurt yourself" Enid pleaded

"I'll be fine, Enid. I always am"

you watched Xavier go up to the girl, hugging her and kissing her cheek. she seemed to giggle at his actions, looking up at him with longing

they talked for a bit before they walked off to somewhere you didn't know.

you rolled your eyes at the two before getting up. going up to your dorm where you threw your things around, looking for the alcohol you stashed.

you opened a bottle of liquor, chugging it down at an unholy rate, finishing it just as soon as you started it.

you dug for another bottle of beer, you yawned as you twisted the cap, leaning against your bed as you drunk it slowly.

soon enough you were laying on the floor with multiple empty bottles on the floor next to you as you stared up at your ceiling, feeling dizzy at how drunk you were.

you felt horrible but so alive at the same time

you scrolled on your phone, squinting to see the screen properly

you clicked on Enid's story, seeing that she reposted a photo from another girls account. clicking on it, you saw it was tagged Xavier's account.

you coughed and threw your phone on your bed. leaning on it to help you get up.

you walked to the door and trailed to the boy's dormitories, stumbling a few time on the way. you still had a bottle in your hand that wasn't quite finished but still you knocked on the door harshly

"open up! you yelled, waiting impatiently for him to open the door

you heard footsteps coming to the door and it soon opened, revealing Xavier.

"you" you poked his chest

"me?" he asked nervously

you looked past him and noticed she was still with him, hanging on his bed

"you are an asshole" you hiccupped

"that's the third time today" he rolled his eyes

"yeah well you deserve to know" you slurred

"enlighten me" he sighed annoyed

"you know what? how could you. go on a date when you clearly know I like you" you confessed, holding out the hand with the beer

"that's it! you're drunk" he cheered sarcastically

"who is it?" the girl asked from Xavier's bed

"doesn't matter right now, don't worry about it" he assured her

he turned back to you and only just realised the state you were in

"just because I'm drunk does not mean I don't know what I'm saying" you almost tripped over your feet

"that's exactly what drinking does, there's no way you would like me. you make it very clear that you hate me every second of the day" he furrowed his eyebrows

"it's only a cover up." you whispered

"how drunk are you?" he chuckled lightly

"I'm sober enough to know what I'm saying" you stated

"I'm kind of on a date here, Y/n, can we talk about this another time?" he suggested

"No! this is the only reason I'm even here" you complained with another hiccup

"why are you here?" he wondered

"to tell you that you're- you're making a mistake" you said, choking up on your words

"a mistake? what's a mistake?" he shook his head confused by the interaction

"you should be on a date with me right now" you paused as you coughed violently "that should be me in there"

"and why's that?" he licked his lips

"because I like you! I've liked you for ages. I am basically yours! I've been yours since you ended things with Bianca" you confessed

he nodded his head slowly, running a hand through his hair

"you're really fucking drunk right now, Y/n. I think you should go to bed" he pointed out

"I don't need sleep, I need you!" you admitted loudly

"what's going on?" the girl came up behind Xavier

"you're ruining everything! I loved him first" you admitted with a cough

Xavier looked down at his feet as he sighed deeply

"pardon?" she tilted her head

"you can't tell me you don't like me too" you pleaded to Xavier

"you're drunk" he muttered

"that didn't answer her question" the girl turned to him

"what? I'm not going to answer her!" he huffed

"so you like her?" she crossed her arms

Xavier stood there silent for a second before the girl scoffed, getting her things and pushed past to leave

"bye, asshole"

"I'm sorry" you apologised

"no you're not" he breathed heavily, he slowly took the bottle off you and set it on the table next to his door

"I like you, Xavier" you repeated yourself for the third time

"you're going to forget about this tomorrow and go back to hating me" he chuckled

"no I'm not" you shook your head

"you're so stubborn" he smiled

"you already knew that" you blinked

you tripped over thin air and fell backwards, a little squeal coming out of your mouth

Xavier caught you and held you in his arms as he helped you back onto your feet

"you alright?" he questioned

"never better" you giggled with a hiccup.

"you're not going to make it back to your room, are you?" he laughed

"I'll probably just sleep on the stairs" you replied with a yawn

"come on"

he lead you inside his room, taking a deep breath as he smelt the alcohol in your breath,

"what are you doing?" you asked quietly

"you're sleeping here tonight. I won't let you sleep out there" he responded

"are you sure?"

"again, you're too drunk to think right now" he repeated himself

"I can think" you said as he got you into his bed, covering you in his blanket

"can you?" he raised an eyebrow, amused

"yeah, you wanna know what I think right now?" you smiled drunkenly up at him

"what are you thinking?" he played along, fixing the pillow below your head

"I think I want to kiss you" you admitted

he stayed silent for a second, not wanting to do anything wrong

he was leaned down above you as he tucked you in, his face so close to yours. so your drunken mind lead you to lean forward, pressing a soft kiss on lips, and just as he started kissing you back, he stopped himself, pulling away.

"I'm not going to do this, you're drunk" he shook his head in denial.

"can you promise me something?" you asked

"sure, why not" he sighed, making sure you were comfortable on his bed

"promise that when I'm sober, you'll remind me of tonight"

he took a second before a agreeing "I promise"

he stood up and put a blanket on the floor

"where are you going?" you questioned

"sleeping on the floor" he stated the obvious

"no, no please sleep up here" you patted the space beside you

"no, that seems wrong" he turned it down

"I won't let you sleep on the floor" you replied bluntly "besides, I'm cold"

he looked skeptical

"we can have a pillow wall" you suggested and he gave in. taking a few pillows, putting them between the both of you as he laid down on the other side of his bed.

he never reminded you of that night, because you remembered it when you woke up, snuggled up to his chest with pillows thrown on the floor with a massive headache.

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

#xavier thorpe headcannons #xavier thorpe oneshot #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday 2022 #wednesday addams #netflix wednesday #enimies to lovers #enid sinclair #wednesday series #ajax petropolus #yoko wednesday #fluff #drinking #confessions #imagines #request

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onedaughterofman · 2 years

Text

Call me (Cardinal Copia x g/n reader)

Summary: You give Copia a warm welcome. He gives you a nice surprise. (Or: maybe pushing the shy Cardinal past his limits has awoken something unholy inside of him).

Tags: +18, some dom/sub dynamics, Copia on his knees for the reader (again), adult content, Copia being a bit of a switch. Around 1.4 K.

When Papa Emeritus III reluctantly asked you to make the recently arrived Cardinal feel at home, this was most likely not what he meant.

In your defense, it’s not really your fault. You tried to be, mostly decent at first, playing it safe and following all the unspoken rules the Clergy set about castes and authority. Obviously, the Cardinal was at a higher power level inside the Ministry than you, and he was also one of the best, most devoted employees. So you tried your best to be respectful, civil, maybe even serious.

But, in the end, it’s not your fault this Cardinal seems to enjoy being on his knees for you.

At first, you told yourself it was just your imagination. Cardinal Copia seemed to be a shy, awkward guy, someone who liked to spend time alone listening to music or with his nose buried in some old books, mumbling to himself under his breath. He seemed like a man not truly used to interacting with people, other than Imperator, to whom he followed around the hallways like a lost puppy.

Every time he was left alone with you, he seemed ready to bolt as soon as possible, as if your mere presence bothered or intimidated him. Still, it was impossible to ignore the way his eyes bored into your body, from time to time. It was not subtle how he stared at your chest, your waist and up and down your legs, like he was in a trance. More than once you caught him licking at his lips, fingers tight in a fist, nodding at whatever you were saying without listening to a single word.

The attention was not unwelcomed, but you weren’t necessarily a patient person. At some point, you got tired of waiting for this man to get his shit together and make a move. When you discover he began awkwardly stalking you around the Ministry during your daily duties, you knew something had to be done.

It was relatively easy to lure him inside an empty room, to wait for him to come inside before slamming his body against the wall. He went docilely, body tense but not strength behind his muscles. Leaning in his personal space, only a few words were enough to make his throat constrict as he swallowed, nodding eagerly.

That encounter ended up with an invitation whispered in his ear, a promise of so much more if he decided to meet you in your quarters tonight.

And so, here he is. On his knees, in front of you.

If this is the first time he does something like this, you don’t know. He seems nervous, muscles rigid and body tight, almost ready to jump out of his skin. As anxious as he might be, Copia remains in place, hands on his thighs and eyes looking up at you in expectation.

There’s raw, pure desire and adoration swirling hypnotically inside those dark pupils, and the thought of fulfilling all his fantasies makes you shiver inside. You don’t let him wait too much. One by one, and agonizingly slow, you begin to undo the zippers and knots that hold your religious habit together, letting it fall to the ground.

The Cardinal’s head follows the piece of cloth, swallowing hard when he realizes more and more of your naked skin is available to him. Although he stays mostly silent, a small whimper manages to escape his lips when your hand caresses down your chest and stomach, fingertips grazing over your hip bones.

And oh, good hell. There’s something about pathetic men, a dark, overly thick lust that makes your guts feel all warm and bothered and your heart race. Your skin is on fire, so hot against the chill of the room, and right now there’s nothing else you want to do more than to stay here and burn right by his side, to consume him down to the bones.

“Cardinal,” you let out, as an airy whisper.“Are you enjoying your stay here?”

For a long moment, there’s only silence.Copia struggles to find his words, body balancing over his heels. “This is… the most welcomed I’ve ever felt anywhere.”

It’s so pathetic. So good. “Is that so? Then, are you going to show some gratitude towards your host?”

The way he almost jumps to his feet is enough of an answer. Even through his clothes, you can feel the heat emanating from his body when your foot comes into contact with his thigh, keeping him in place. “Si, please,” he whispers, breathless. “Tell me what you want.”

The air is too thick inside the room. The Cardinal stays still, shaking in place like he’s almost afraid of his own carnal desires, as if they were too twisted, too dark even for the church of Satan.

“Sit on the bed, then.” He obeys, eagerly. Those pants are too tight for him to hide anything in them, and you must admit it’s bigger than what you initially thought.

Good. There’s enough space on his lap for you to sit comfortably. Copia’s hands dart out to hold you by the waist, but you swat them away with a quick slap. “Don’t touch me without permission. You are going to keep your hands on the mattress and stay very still, unless I say otherwise. I want to make sure you’ll last enough. Understood?”

“Si, si.”

Getting him out of his pants makes him whimper again, head falling back. As your hand wraps around his length, you see how his fingers grasp the bed covers. Slowly, you work up and down even if he seems to be ready to burst at any given moment.

As much as you enjoy the lust and neediness clouding his eyes, you know it’s better to give him a little something before he comes undone from your hand only. In a swift movement, you get right on top of him and begin to descend slowly, not breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown, lips trembling as he sighs.

“Oh, Lucifer.”

The Cardinal tries to move his hips when you bottom out completely. Grabbing his face, your head shakes. “I never said you could move.”

He swallows, brows furrowed and mouth agape. “Please,” Copia whispers, leaning closer to your lips.“I can’t…”

“Yes, you can. You said you'd do what I want.”

“Lo so, però I can’t. I need to move.”

Laughing softly, you shake your head again. There’s raw despair on his face, a strong feeling of want he can’t hide. “You’ll move when I tell you to. Now, be good.”

It’s impossible to know how many minutes he manages to stay still. HIs whimpers and choked out moans fill the room as you rock your hips in an agonizingly slow motion. It’s not nearly enough, that’s more than obvious, and with every second that you continue he becomes more and more desperate.

Finally, his hands seize your waist, fingers digging hard into the soft flesh. “I’m sorry,” he mutters against your skin. “I really can’t anymore.”

Without warning, Copia begins to thrust in a restless manner. It’s impossible to try to stop him when he’s all wild, submerged too deep in his own desires. You knew he had strong, fit thighs and powerful hips, but experiencing it now leaves you breathless.

It’s okay. Any thought inside of your mind is now nothing more than a dull voice. You let him do as he please, nails digging on his back and legs wrapped tight around his waist.

Fuck. This man, as pathetic as he might look, he’s a real pleaser. A natural talent.

Trapped between his arms and pressed over his body, you feel him deep in your abdomen, hitting right where you need him the most. The loud moans resonate on the wall as you scream, not caring about anything but him.

It takes a few moments to recover when you come, legs shaking and back arched. The Cardinal collapses on the bed, dragging you with him. There’s a sharp, pulsing pain on your neck, and running your fingers over the spot you realize why.

Hell. He fucking bit you.

That was… hot.

“Hey,” your breath out, at last, chest heaving and voice shaky,“when do you think you can do that again?”

Copia’s brows furrow, eyes still closed as he muses over your question. “Give me half an hour,” he replies, not looking at you.

“Make it fifteen minutes.”

Surprisingly, he does make it fifteen. Maybe there’s more in this Cardinal than what you initially thought.

A/N: Listen, Cardinal Copia being a pathetic guy? Amazing, wonderful, so beautiful. But Popia showed me another vision, my man can be in charge for a few minutes if he wants to.

Sorry if it's not that good. Ask box is open if you want to say anything!

#ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost bc #ghost band #the band ghost #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia #papa emeritus x reader #cardi c #copia my beloved #my writing #my fics

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sluttyten · 1 year

Text

UNHOLY - Chapter Six

full masterlist || UNHOLY chapter index

genre: supernatural au

characters: fem reader, yuta, ten, winwin, mark, others mentioned

tags: polyamory, smut!, threesome, demon sex, religious themes

length: 10,441 words

<-previous || next–>

“Well, this is gonna be fucking awkward now, isn’t it?” Mark asks, looking back and forth between you and Ten and Yuta.

Tonight you’re at another one of Mark’s deep underground labyrinthine clubs. This time in a private room overlooking the club below. They have a few more friends here, drinking and boisterously laughing and singing along to the music the DJ has got booming through the club, but you’re not paying too much attention to those guys.

You’re leaning against Ten’s chest, his arm draped across your shoulders. You’re quite comfortable, your feet are in Yuta’s lap on the other side of the table.

Mark and WinWin sit together on the same bench seat as Yuta, occasionally looking at your feet in his lap, sometimes just staring at the way that Ten’s fingertips brush the top of your tits in this very tight and low-cut top you’re wearing tonight. More than once Yuta has commented possessively to WinWin about the lusty way he’s staring at your tits.

Mark wrinkles his nose slightly, looking around at the three of you. “You start fucking, and now WinWin and I have to feel like fourth and fifth wheels to your demonic tricycle?”

You can’t hold back a laugh.

It’s only been a few days since that night when you summoned your flames for the first time, and this is the first time since then that you’re seeing either Mark or WinWin. You’ve been focusing on your demon lessons, though admittedly those have been a little distracted and not very informational. More often than not over the last few days, any attempt at giving you a lesson in demon powers becomes one or both of your instructors fucking you.

After your mastering of the bursting-into-flame lesson, you’ve moved on to shapeshifting, which Ten had mentioned to you. It was certainly more difficult, and even now you’ve had no actual progress. Of course, the distraction provided by your two demons being entirely capable at shifting is likely partially to blame for that.

For example, Ten had shapeshifted to have a dual penis, not quite the trident like you’d joked about finding when he first took his pants off, but close enough. Truthfully it had been funny at first to see Ten standing there with two penises, until your curiosity took over. You couldn’t help yourself from touching, from seeing that it’s not just an illusion, but a real flesh-and-blood functional penis. Naturally, you’d needed to take it further. Ten had happily let you experiment with him, settling onto the sofa with you between his legs to watch both cocks grow hard, and when you tried blowing both of his cocks, they’d just shifted back together in the tight heat of your mouth.

Ten’s instruction was rarely actually informational when it came to shape-shifting. He and you mostly had fun. There was the two dicks thing, but he’d also shifted to have tits, growing his hair out long until he looked like a gorgeous Renaissance muse. That day hadn’t turned into sex, but rather into him manifesting tubes and cans of paint and canvases, which the two of you had painted on before devolving into fingerpainting each other, and dragging Yuta into it too when he showed up.

Yuta was certainly the more serious of the two when it came to your lessons.

Yuta actually taught you, instructing you in the history and methodology as well as the limitations of shape-shifting. Turning into most animals and creatures was fine—cats, bats, and rats were simplest, but he could transform into birds or fish or bugs, into any animal that existed in the natural world. The limitations existed when shifting into items for disguise—a tree or a plant was easier than, say, a car (which is too complex), a lamp post (unable to light up if you’re an electric lamp post, but if you’re an old gaslit lamp, you can summon your flame to help), or any object that wasn’t once a living thing.

“I once got stuck as an armchair for several days before someone realized and helped me,” Yuta had told you as he shook his head, leaves falling, replaced by his hair as his skin smooths out from the rough texture of bark. “Sometimes, if you listen closely, I still groan when I move like I have old springs in me.”

“There’s no way!” You laughed.

Yuta nodded, his smile warming his face, and he wrapped his arms around you, drawing you against his chest. “But, truly, my love, shifting to look like a different person is both one of the easiest and most difficult things.”

Yuta had evidenced this when he shifted his features smoothly right in front of you, and within seconds, you were staring at yourself like you were looking in a mirror. But when the other you opened its mouth, Yuta’s voice came out, its eyes gleamed demonic black, and the air hung heavy with the scent of sulfur.

He’d shifted into several other people then. Celebrities that you requested, humans you’d met here in Hell City at Mark’s clubs or when you’d gone out with WinWin, but when you asked if he would shift into WinWin, Yuta shook his head no.

“That’s the limit, my love. We can only shift into other demons and humans. When we attempt other supernatural beings, it never turns out right. Do you want to see?” Yuta asked.

He’d transformed into Mark first, but he looked like Mark just with viciously red eyes, fangs fully engaged, and deep, bold hunger lines spreading away from his eyes, making him look truly monstrous. But it was when Yuta shifted into WinWin for you that you truly understood what he meant.

You’d never seen WinWin in his wolf form. Never seen him as much more than just a slight bit of claw, his single hand turned into a furry paw, his canines becoming more prominent and his glowing eyes. But as Yuta stood before you as WinWin, he looked more wolf than man. Fur sprouted all over his body, on his arms and neck and chest, infringing on his face. His body grew, shoulders bulging with knots of muscle and hunching, his clothes ripping as his body transformed, and his hands twisted into clawed paw-like versions of hands, and his teeth sharp, his eyes the dangerous yellow of a monster.

You’d cringed away, admittedly terrified to suddenly be faced with the beast.

“That’s what happens,” Yuta had explained as he came back to himself. “If you attempt a supernatural being, you can only show them in a twisted form. But sometimes you can tweak it, manipulate individual pieces of yourself until you come close to resembling them. Like WinWin, for example. If I wanted to look like him, I would just manipulate little things about myself, which is more time consuming, not nearly as instantaneous, and there’s always something just a little off when it’s done.”

Right before your eyes you’d begun to see the little changes as Yuta grew a little taller, as his body shifted in bone structure and musculature, his features morphing into WinWin’s, or at least ones very similar to WinWin’s.

And when at last he stood before you, you could sense the difference. There was just something… off about how he looked. Like WinWin, but not.

So, although Yuta’s lessons were usually rather instructional when compared to Ten’s lessons, these also invariably would end in sex.

So, as Yuta stood in front of you looking so much like WinWin, there was one major difference. Unlike the WinWin you knew, this one was naked.

Your eyes unavoidably drifted downward, a little bit of curiosity and also just the inability to simply not look at the cock staring back at you.

Yuta had laughed when he realized where you were looking.

“Is that an accurate representation, or are you making it up?” You couldn’t look away from the long, heavy cock he possessed, wondering if that was truly what WinWin was packing. It was like…. Ridiculous to look at. Probably close to a foot in length, thick all the way around, veiny, and pink at the tip. You’d never seen anything like it before.

Again, Yuta had laughed, reaching a hand down to touch himself. “Wouldn’t you like to know, baby girl.”

You did want to know. Once upon a few months ago, you’d almost given into having sex with WinWin in that club, and if you’d taken his pants off to find that cock, you’d have been so underprepared. But since then you’d been with two demons, you’d had handfuls of filthy dreams about WinWin, so at the time of the lesson, you couldn’t seem to look away. You’d had your lusty thoughts about him, but if this is the cock that WinWin had, you would just write off your fantasies because there’s no way you could feasibly take this, even in your wildest dreams.

You hadn’t yet mentioned the dreams to Yuta or Ten, but surely they had to have some suspicions. You still weren’t sure if they could read your thoughts or not, but it often seemed like they could. So, surely, if they possessed that ability, they had to know by now the way that you dreamed about the other two members of your found family.

“Come on,” Yuta had said, still stroking the long cock he temporarily possessed. “Do you want to test it out?”

You’d given in to your base urges, the curiosity overwhelming your logic, and you dropped to your knees and reached for his cock. It was impossible to fit it all in your mouth, your hands worked what you couldn’t, and Yuta just raked his fingers through your hair and did his best to gag you on his cock.

It had been a little startling when you looked up at him partway through, having forgotten what he looked like in the moment, to see WinWin looking down at you. But you didn’t mind too much. You found WinWin attractive. And it was becoming more and more clear that Yuta knew that too. He’d begun to play with you as you went further than just blowing him. He’d wanted to roleplay, have you call him WinWin and beg for him to knot you.

You hadn’t truly understood the meaning of that, not to its full extent, in the moment, but you’d gone along with it, fucking Yuta as WinWin. He’d had to reduce the size of his showy cock for you to successfully take it, but even then he’d been big up until he let the whole illusion fall apart as his orgasm hit, and then he was your Yuta again with flames flickering on his back, and a normal-sized cock pumping into you.

It was afterwards, the following day, when you’d visited the Hell on Earth Library of the Public, or HELP as it was better known. You’d located a book on werewolves, just overwhelmed by curiosity about if werewolves were normally so hung and what the hell knotting was about. That book, as well as one that was a general encyclopedia on the supernatural, were going to be your sources. After checking them out and bringing them back to your apartment, you’d learned quite a bit actually, but you’d tucked that information away as interesting but not completely relevant.

Neither you nor Yuta mentioned the WinWin roleplay over the last few days, but there were times, such as tonight at this club, when you looked at WinWin and wondered if his cock could really be so magnificent as Yuta had made it seem.

Mark’s still looking at the three of you, particularly at Yuta’s hand on your ankle as your toes press against Yuta’s thigh, inching higher toward the meeting of his thighs. WinWin stares at the tips of Ten’s fingers resting just beneath the top edge of your shirt, fingertips on your very soft cleavage.

You notice. You notice both of them, and you settle more comfortably into Ten’s side, tossing a smile over at Yuta.

“What can I say,” Yuta smugly says, “Our girl has truly shown us her demonic side, Mark.”

You roll your foot higher in his lap, toes brushing the bulge of his cock. Yuta grins and tightens his grip on your ankle. Mark’s eyes flash toward you.

“Relax, Mark.” You draw your foot out of Yuta’s lap, and you sit up straighter so you’re not totally draped against Ten. “We’re not going to do it in front of you. I was just teasing.”

His face is stiff, concealing whatever thoughts are racing through his mind. “This just isn’t that kind of club, y’know?”

WinWin snorts beside Mark, folding his arms across his chest. “Have you told the people down there about that?” He indicates the dance floor below. “I can see a couple having sex right now, but they at least think they’re being sneaky about it.” You look in the direction WinWin indicated, but you can’t see anyone in particular that stands out, but WinWin’s eyes have a particular glow to them, like his wolf side is a little closer to the surface than normal.

Mark must be able to see whatever you can’t because he swears and rocks onto his feet, calling over a club security vampire, whistling to him quickly and gesturing down at the crowd.

“Buzzkill,” Ten hisses. “Let them have their fun.”

“This isn’t that kind of club!” Mark insists, “Go down the block if you want a sex club that allows that kind of stuff. Frozen Hell is right there!” He sinks back down, folding his arms across his chest. His gaze momentarily settles again on your tits before he’s looking away, glaring at Ten for a moment as Ten continues teasing him, and then he stares down into his drink.

“You just need to get laid, Mark,” Yuta says affectionately, lifting a hand to lay it on Mark’s shoulder. “How long has it been since that girl?”

“He accidentally turned her,” Ten whispers to you, and you can hear the grin in his voice. Mark looks up to glare at Ten again, but Ten doesn’t stop. “Got a little too wild, drank all her blood, and three days later he swore it all off. No fresh human blood, no sex.”

That’s odd. Not odd that he swore those things off, but odd because you remember how Mark behaved the night you met. The way he flirted with you, like he was fully attempting to seduce you, intending to have sex with you if the others hadn’t snapped you out of his little mind game. But now that you think about it, all the times you’ve gone out together to clubs or just around the city, Mark had never talked about sexual partners, he’d never engaged with anyone that was clearly flirting with him. Much about your perception of him has changed since that first night you met him. Long gone is his kingpin-esque vibe, replaced now with the casual young man he is beneath.

Like right now, he’s blushing. The drink in his hand supplies the blood that rushes to his cheeks as Ten continues with his teasing. It’s cute and funny.

You’re laughing along with the others as Ten says, “He took a vow of celibacy, like a vampire priest.”

And then Ten mockingly does the sign of the cross towards Mark.

That’s where you draw the line.

“Don’t fucking do that.” You lean away from Ten, punching him on the arm. “Don’t mock that.”

You still respect bits and pieces of the faith. And something about the sign of the cross still feels very important, like you should never desecrate that. You won’t disrespect the elements of the faith, even if you do feel that God has abandoned you, and even if you do sometimes still find yourself questioning if he’s even real when a place like this and people like all of these supernatural beings can exist.

“What?” Ten laughs, his eyes crinkling with mirth even in the face of your clear annoyance. Yuta laughs too when Ten says, “Still a little saint after all, hmm?”

Ten attempts to slide his arm back around you and draw you in, but you slide away, leaving the seat empty beside him. “I’m going to dance,” you announce, turning your back on the table. You can sense Ten moving as if to follow, so you turn back around, pointing a finger at him as you hiss, “Don’t follow me. I’m pissed at you right now.”

Ten, chastised, sinks back into his spot, picking up his drink to hide the flush on his cheeks. He mumbles, “It was just a joke.”

You don’t care if it was just a joke. It was something you were raised to believe in, and you’re still struggling to untangle yourself from all of that. Mark has been helping you with that a bit, but there are still those core things which just feel wrong to violate, such as crossing yourself in a situation that doesn’t call for it.

You leave the private room, descending a spiraling set of stairs to join the party on the dancefloor, to have some fun, to get away for a minute. You intentionally find a spot out of sight of the private room. You don’t want them to watch you – not Ten who you’re angry with, not Yuta who had laughed along with him. You dance like nothing else matters even as the heat of your anger or annoyance at Ten simmers like your flames just beneath the surface of your skin. You dance like no one can see you, especially not the men you left behind at your table.

But one of them finds you anyway.

You feel the energy of the crowd shifting around you, ramping up with excitement, and you only see the reason for that as Mark cuts his way through the crowd toward you. He holds his hand out, offering it to you, his eyes a subtle red-brown, eyebrows lifted in invitation. He doesn’t have to speak, it’s all in his expectant gaze, the question, “Come with me?”

You give him your hand, and Mark pulls you through the dancers, the tight press of bodies. You don’t know where he’s leading you, and for the moment you don’t really care. You just don’t want to go back to the table because you don’t want to look at Ten. Maybe you’re being unreasonable.

Mark’s hand is cool in yours, squeezing so tightly around your hand that you worry he might crush the small bones in your hand. But he’s holding tight, keeping you close behind him as he leads you behind the dazzling bar, squeezing behind the bartenders and all the illuminated glasses on the wall.

When he brings you through a doorway behind the bar, it’s then that you finally ask him, “Where are we going?”

Mark glances back at you. “You needed to get out of there right? Since you were clearly pissed at Ten, I figured we could just leave.”

Your imagination takes off, spinning down a readily waiting rabbit hole of Mark deciding to challenge Ten and Yuta both telling him to get laid. What if he were to make his claim on you, to bring you into some private room in the warren of tunnels in Hell City’s underground? A thrill goes through you at the thought, followed quickly after by a surge of guilt. Even if you’re annoyed with Ten, that’s no reason to go off and have sex with one of their closest friends. You’re being silly with this line of filthy thought.

“What’s wrong?” Mark asks, turning his head to the side to look at you from over his shoulder. “Your heart is racing.”

You feel your face flush with heat. He can hear your heartbeat? “Nothing.”

“Sure.” His tone makes it clear he doesn’t believe you. “Try to calm yourself down at least a little. I’m taking you to hang out with my coven.”

“What?” If anything, that makes your heart beat even faster. You walk a little faster too, trying to catch up to Mark’s side instead of trailing behind him. “Your coven? Why?”

Mark’s smile is one again that makes you entirely forget that you’re not both just normal humans living normal human lives in a normal human city. A little crooked and spreading too easily, a loose expression that just seems to appear and make his eyes shine even in the dim light of these underground streets. “Are you nervous? You’ve met some of them before, you know.” You wiggle your fingers, and Mark’s hand loosens just a little bit around yours, but he doesn’t let go and neither do you. “I just thought you wanted to get away from them for a little bit, and I’ve never shown you Covenant really.”

The name rings a bell. A door at the end of an alley. An old sign with faded letters spelling Covenant. It’s the place where you’d first met Mark when he sat on that throne looking like the King of the Vampires. The place with all of that religious imagery and stolen artwork that had been defaced.

For the first time you look around at your surroundings, noticing that Mark is walking with you quickly by the doorways that lead into other loud clubs, underground restaurants that promise unique dining experiences, and a bar with roars of laughter blending on the ground with the pools of rainbow colored light that spill through the stained glass windows. He turns you sharply through the alleys, down stairs that squeeze down narrow passages, winding you ever farther beneath the surface of Hell City. Part of you wonders if he’s trying to get you turned around or if he’s maybe trying to lose someone behind you with as many twists and turns as he takes.

“Why are you taking me to Covenant?” You ask, panting just a little bit at the quick pace with which Mark is taking you down stairs and sloped streets. This underground city rises around you. Tall, dark walls stretch up into the darkness toward the underside of Hell City’s streets.

“When I’m not sleeping over at your apartment, the Covenant is where I stay. I want to show it to you.” Mark pulls you through an unlatched gate down another alley, and as you walk along, you hear the gate click shut behind you. You want to ask him why he’s taking you along this winding way, and why he wants to show you Covenant, but you’re already asking so many questions of him.

Mark suddenly stops, and you bump into his back.

“Hold on,” is the only warning Mark gives before you feel his arm around your waist. He bends slightly at the knee, his arm growing tight around you, and then just like that the ground is no longer beneath your feet.

Everything is so fast, you’ve only the time to say “Fu–” before your feet are on a solid surface again. The “--ck!” comes as your chin bumps against Mark’s shoulder, his laugh vibrating his chest as he holds you against him.

“Fuck!” You repeat the exclamation with a thump of your fist against Mark’s chest, pushing yourself away from him, but you can’t get far. He keeps his arm around your waist, and you’re glad for it. Mark has the pair of you perched precariously on the edge of a rooftop several stories above the alley that you’d just been standing in.

From up here you can see that the Underground of Hell City is just as much a city as the surface world. This city rolls ever deeper into the distance, endless with flickering lights illuminating the streets and the windows. It reminds you of a scene from a historic drama you might have watched, like looking into the past of old London or Paris, maybe looking out at ancient Rome or Alexandria, like an ancient city had been sunken just beneath the surface here.

You wouldn’t know that behind the facades of these walls there are pieces of modernity in the nightclubs and everything else. From here, it looks just like you’ve slipped backwards in time. The only thing missing is the sight of the stars and the moon overhead, though you can see in the distance a tower that rises up like the Tower of Babel, circular and many-tiered, the tallest building you can see.

“That’s the entrance from the surface,” Mark tells you.

That’s crazy, you think. The number of times you’ve been down here, going to different places that he or WinWin or Yuta and Ten had brought you, and you’d never really imagined this whole underground city looking like a legitimate city before. You’d always stayed on the one level pretty much, so you hadn’t really realized how far this city sloped downward, how far it stretched, how what you’d believed to be hallways and corridors were probably more like actual streets and alleyways.

Admittedly, you were usually too distracted or even too intoxicated to really look up. Your demons or the other two held you enraptured every time that you were down here. Why would you even think to look up?

Mark laughs again, and he moves back from the edge, bringing you with him. “Are you so amazed? Have you never seen the city before?”

You shake your head, still clinging to Mark even though he’s put a few feet between you and the edge of the rooftop. There’s so much to look at. This underground city is so dark, but the streets and the buildings themselves have an orange glow, completely different to the constant orange glow of the city above. This is a city trapped forever in night, illuminated by street lamps, candles in windows, paper lanterns.

Something bright flashes through the night, like a shooting star as it falls from above. Your eyes immediately hone in on it, a shimmering trail of light that falls from the city above down and down and down before it vanishes.

“The river,” Mark explains. “It’s more of a waterfall to Hell down here, but the concept is still the same. You don’t want to get caught in it.” You remember the river above when Yuta and Ten showed it to you, the darker water that flickered with white souls as it ran along the riverwalk, how Yuta told you that it vanished underground at some point and never resurfaced.

As you watch, another spark of white, which must surely be a soul on its descent, passes.

“Do you want to come inside, or should we stand here and look at the city a little longer?” Mark finally starts to pull away from you, and the withdrawal of his touch pulls your attention around to him again.

“I thought we were going to Covenant?” You let your hand slip away from Mark’s, watching as he walks towards a rooftop access door.

“We are.” Mark gestures at the roof beneath your feet. “The part you’ve been to before, that’s down there.”

And why didn’t he take you through the front entrance? Or even the back entrance? What’s with this strange manner of entering the building through the roof? And the winding circuitous way he brought you here?

Sensing your suspicion, or perhaps reading it plain on your face, Mark explains, “I don’t like to share this particular place with just anyone. When we first left the club, I almost felt like someone was watching us, so I took a roundabout way getting here.”

“It was probably Yuta or Ten. I’m sure we’ll get an earful from them when we get back,” you say. “They both like to keep a sometimes annoyingly close watch on me.”

“Yeah,” Mark agrees. “They’re clearly really possessive over you. But, if they’re angry we ditched them when we get back, I’ll make sure to apologize. Now, I want to show you this.” Mark pushes the door open, and he steps inside without a single look back as he vanishes into the dark interior.

You hesitate because although you trust Mark, there’s just something that doesn’t sit right about following a vampire into the darkness of a mystery room.

But then a match strikes. A small flame glows in the dark, throwing shadows against the walls of the room, and as you approach the door, you can see Mark’s hand caught in the light of the match, bringing the flame to first one candle, and then another.

This isn’t a roof access door, as you’d originally thought. This is a room. A very small room situated here on the roof with not much more than a wooden bench, the two lit candles, a small stand with a book on it, and mounted on the wall of the room is an elegant cross that makes you think, to some degree, that this matches the theme of the other religious works in the Covenant – stolen, likely from a Church. It gleams in the candlelight, golden and covered in gems.

You step inside, gazing at this small chapel in the middle of Hell City’s underground. This was the last thing you expected to find here, but right now, it feels like it’s exactly what you need.

A sense of clarity floods through you.

“I thought you might like this.” Mark sits down. “As I’ve told you, I’ve had a lot of my beliefs challenged since I was first turned. I’ve had my doubts about God and the greater purpose of human life, but I always come back to this.” He looks around the space, at the cross and the book beneath it. “I know that I have no hope of getting into Heaven, my soul is too black, I’m too deep into sin to ever have the hope of being lifted up from here and seeing Heaven, but I still pray. I still ask forgiveness, and I try hard to believe that there’s someone up there listening to my prayers and granting me forgiveness, still watching over me.”

You sink down beside him, and you reach over to take Mark’s hand.

“I try not to let it bother me, like, when Ten and the others tease me like that. About being a celibate priest vampire,” he laughs quietly. “I’m not perfect. Far from it. He’s right that I swore off drinking fresh blood and also sex because, if I thought Heaven was unreachable before, after I turned that girl – killed her by accident and sat by her side until she changed into the same kind of monster that I am – I know that it’s beyond out of reach. I can’t tempt myself with that again and push Heaven even farther away.”

Mark sighs. “Sometimes I feel like no one else in this city really gets it. A lot of them weren’t raised with any aspect of religion. The rest pretty much abandoned religion after they experienced their supernatural awakening.” He swings his head around to look at you with his eyes like drops of liquid night, catching the flickering light of the candles. “You get it, don’t you?”

“I do.” You clasp Mark’s hand a little tighter.

He looks back up at the cross. “I made this chapel above the den of unholiness that I built, thinking maybe it’ll help negate some of the chaos and sin of a vampire coven. I brought the vampires to me that were lost and in need of guidance. I gave them a home and a purpose other than just the senseless bloodlust. You can come here anytime you want, if you need a place to feel a little bit like… home. Like, a place to pray that I hope feels like it’s at least a good spot for it.”

Mark’s words are timid, hopeful. You nod. This little chapel on the rooftop does feel like a good spot for prayer, if that’s something you need to do. You can tell that there’s nothing truly hallowed about it. Nothing here in the room gives you the same tingle as you’d experienced when you’d gone to the Church in your town. There’s no holy water here, no Eucharist. Only the cross, unadorned with a Christ figure, and the book beneath, which you assume is a Bible.

Mark twitches, as if he means to get up, but you hold tight to his hand, tugging him back down beside you.

“Can we stay for a little longer?” You swallow, nervous to pray for some reason.

You don’t really know if there’s a God up there. But you also don’t know that there’s not a God. All you know is that praying feels familiar, it feels right sometimes, and you miss it.

“We can stay,” Mark says quietly. His thumb rubs over your knuckles, and you see from the corner of your eye the way that he bows his head and closes his eyes.

You do the same, slipping into the feeling of prayer like speaking to an old friend.

Whether the others notice the disappearance of you and Mark, you don’t know.

You and Mark, after spending a decent amount of time together in the quiet solitude and tranquility of his rooftop chapel, descend into Covenant.

Mark shows you through the upper floors of his establishment. He shows you briefly the apartment he possesses, which is just a bedroom and an office in what used to be the ensuite bathroom. There are more apartments, every floor bustling with vampires. Some closed doors hide the sounds of moans. Some rooms have the doors wide open. There are cats and bats. There’s a whole mini kitchen on the second floor that only has fridges stocked with blood bags, as well as a mini fridge that has human food and beverages.

“For guests,” Mark explains.

There’s a lounge room, kind of like a common area in a dorm, filled with sofas and armchairs, pool tables, dart boards, and a very old Pac-Man machine. Here, there are vampires ranging in ages. They all greet Mark warmly, eyeing you curiously. You haven’t met all of them, but you do recognize one. His name is Haechan, currently entertaining half of the accumulated vampires in the room as he belts out an obnoxious pop song into the microphone of a karaoke machine.

Mark has introduced you in the past to several members of his extensive coven. The otherworldly beautiful female vampires with their flawless skin and shiny hair, their looks that draw you in no matter sexuality. The male vampires are just as alluring, equally as graceful as the women. All of them are beautiful, even with blood red eyes.

You know Mark has only turned one of them, just the girl that made him give up on drinking fresh blood. Everyone else in his coven he’s earned their loyalty, taken them in, shown them that they can trust him. There are other covens in Hell City, but none so powerful as Mark’s.

Mark introduces you to a few more vampires on your way out. There’s Haechan who waves enthusiastically when he spots the pair of you. There’s a vampire that Mark tells you is the oldest in his coven, named Taeil, who is just happy to have the safety of a coven and who joined in because he’d met Haechan and couldn’t live an eternal life without the ray of perpetual sunshine in the otherwise dark existence of vampires. Mark introduces you to a newer vampire named Jisung who moves too quickly for his lanky limbs, making him clumsy, though it adds to his charm.

And when you finally make your exit through the front door of Covenant, Mark points out the straightest shot here from the Tower that you enter the underground from. It’s actually a lot easier to get to than you remember from your first visit, and you tuck that piece of information away, hoping that you’ll remember it correctly when you choose to come use his quiet little chapel on the roof.

The less straight and simple path from Covenant heads back to the club where you’d left Yuta, Ten, and WinWin. Mark doesn’t lead you on as winding of a path as he had before, but it still takes several minutes to reach the club again, and he sneaks you back in the same way that you’d exited.

You feel better. More right in your own skin as you step back into the noise and crushing heat of the dancefloor.

Mark slips away almost instantly, his attention caught by someone at the bar, and you dive back into the crowd of dancers, picking back up where you’d left off, but happier and freer now.

WinWin appears while you’re dancing, bumping into your back while he’s dancing with a girl that you think must be some kind of aquatic supernatural being due to the way that her hair is still dripping wet, and (no offense) the slightly fishy or briny smell coming off her. She wears a silky gray dress, her round dark eyes looking you over when WinWin smiles at the sight of you.

The girl is instantly forgotten as he leans in to speak directly into your ear. “Are you still mad and want to be left alone? Or can I dance with you?”

You weren’t even mad at him to begin with, so you let him stay, thinking that, if anything, the sight of you dancing with him might serve to make Ten or Yuta jealous.

The forgotten girl gets swallowed by the crowd, and for a while you forget everything too. Happy to just lose yourself in the feel of the music pulsing in your bones, the feel of WinWin dancing along with you, not necessarily all over you like he had been the last time you danced together on the night you first met, but close enough now to make sure no one separates you from him. Close enough that when at last you lift your head to look around for any sight of your two demons, WinWin catches on.

“How does it work?” He asks, leaning down to speak directly into your ear, but still shouting to be heard over the music. “The three of you?”

You’re not entirely sure how to answer that, not certain what kind of an answer he’s seeking. “What do you mean? Like details?”

WinWin straightens up to look you in the eye as he says, “I’m not a pervert. No, not details. Like, are you together? Are they your boyfriends or mates or, like, is it just sex? What kind of a family dynamic did I get brought into?”

Now, that’s something that you haven’t really spoken about over the last few days. You know that Yuta said Ten’s a jealous guy, and they’ve both displayed jealousy when you’ve mentioned Hansol. But there’s no label on this. You don’t know what this is. Is it just fun and sex? Or is it more than that?

WinWin presses closer, fitting his body with yours as you dance, and you welcome the heat of it. Especially when he leans down, his lips against your ear again as he says, “I mean, I’m only asking because in case it’s not very obvious, I like you, and I want to know if I still stand a chance.”

He timed it perfectly, fitting the words into a total lull in the music, unless the buzzing silence is just your mind struggling to comprehend what he’s just said.

“I like you,” WinWin repeats as the music begins to pick up again, and somewhere in the crowd a few people howl. He glances towards them, but when he looks back at you, you’re still staring up at him slack-jawed. He smiles, tapping his fingertips beneath your chin to get you to shut your mouth. “You don’t have to answer me or make any kind of decision right now. I just wanted to make my intentions known.”

You like WinWin, too. You’ve found him attractive since the first time you met, and since he became a friend, you’ve grown to actually like him. Since your return to Hell City, everything has just been so emotionally confusing, if you’re being honest. The dreams, the friendships, your powers being awakened, as well as the new sexual experiences you’ve found with Yuta and Ten.

And it’s not like Ten and Yuta own you. They’re just your demons, your protectors, instructors, and friends, the ones you’ve been having regular sex with over the last few days, fucking like rabbits every chance you get. But there’s no label. And they clearly don’t mind sharing with each other, so would it really be so different if you gave WinWin a shot?

“I’ll give you time to think about it,” WinWin says, his hands skimming over your shoulders and down your arms, as he puts a little bit of distance between you and him. Not too far away though. He smiles, eyes flashing in the blazing lights of the club. “We don’t have to rush.”

You don’t rush it at all.

You dance together with WinWin for a while longer before the density of the crowd, all the bodies hot and sweaty around you, grows to be too much, so you head back up to the private room together.

Mark is still not back. Yuta had passed you on the stairs as he went to fetch a new round of drinks. Only Ten still sits at the table, watching WinWin over his glass with a bit of heat and bite behind the look as you choose to sit beside WinWin on the other side of the table.

“You smell like him,” Ten says after a moment, his tone accusatory.

You ignore him.

Ten continues to watch you, consuming himself with jealousy, as you just chat with WinWin, as Mark returns to the table with Yuta, sliding a tray of drinks onto the surface.

Ten’s jealousy turns into him pouting, drinking too many of his smoking beverages, and by the time you decide to call the night at an end, it takes both Yuta and WinWin to haul Ten back to your apartment. He grumpily snarks at WinWin the whole way, even bursting into flames at one point after you’ve resurfaced in Hell City. It’s a successful attempt to get WinWin to move away from him.

“Would you stop?” You snap, planting yourself in front of him on the street as WinWin steps aside to pat down the smoking shoulders of his shirt. “We were just dancing, if that’s why you’re so bent out of shape, Ten. Stop being an ass.”

Ten looks at Yuta, who just raises his eyebrows in silent reply.

“They weren’t just dancing,” Ten faux-whispers. “I know it. WinWin’s too into her for them to have just been dancing.”

Heat floods through you, a mixture of a blush and your own flames rising to your skin. Your mind instantly is swept back into a short while ago, WinWin’s confession replaying in your mind.

Yuta pinches Ten’s side, hauling Ten’s arm a little higher over Yuta’s shoulder. “Does it matter, Ten? She’s not ours. We can’t tell her what to do.”

Ten pouts, turning a baleful look on you. He looks more like a kicked puppy than a demon right now, and it’s melting your resolve to stay irritated with him.

“We just danced, you jealous ass. Don’t look at me like that, Ten.” You fold your arms across your chest. “We talked, we danced, and what does it matter if anything happened? I don’t belong to you or to Yuta, do I?”

He’s pouting still. “I want you to be ours. I don’t want to share you with WinWin. I don’t want to be a stepfather to a bunch of werewolf cubs!”

“Oh my God,” Yuta groans. “Alright, I’m speeding this up. He’s too heavy to carry across half the city. Win, can you keep her safe the rest of the way?” And then to you, he says, “I’ll talk to Ten. He’s just drunk and possessive.”

WinWin nods and promises. “I’ll get her home safe, Yuta.”

What a change this is from the first night you met WinWin. The way Yuta nods, fully trusting WinWin now when the first night he’d nearly ripped WinWin’s head off for wanting to be alone with you.

Yuta turns on the spot, vanishing into thin air with Ten, leaving nothing behind but some of the glitter from Ten’s shirt floating to the sidewalk.

You reach over, taking WinWin’s hand. His fingers go stiff for a moment before he relaxes, squeezing his hand around yours. You smile and ask, “Walk me home?”

WinWin keeps you tucked close to his side as you walk through the city. His hackles are raised, for lack of a better term, eyes glinting amber and his teeth are bared as someone catcalls you from down an alleyway.

Although this hour looks nearly the same as every other in this city, the late hour has drawn out the true monsters who lurk in the shadows, and WinWin growls any time any of them come a little too close or seem to be speaking or even looking in your direction.

“You have to be careful,” he tells you once you’ve reached the relative safety of the lift in your building. It creaks and begins to rise up through the building, and WinWin stands right beside you, your arms bumping each other as the lift sways slightly. “There’s all kinds of freaks in this city.”

“You know, I once included you in that number.”

WinWin frowns.

“But, at the time, everyone was. I didn’t consider myself at all in the number of people here who weren’t entirely human.” You tap the back of his hand. “I’d just seen you for the first time. Yuta hated you. I’d never met a werewolf before, and before you and Yuta started your dispute, I thought you were human, so I did look at you as a little freaky.”

Still, Winwin frowns a little. “And when did that change?”

You shrug as the lift finally sways to a stop at your floor. “Some time after you saved me from being exorcized.”

He steps around you to open the door of your apartment, and sighs a little in relief, saying, “I was worried you were going to say, like, yesterday.”

You make no rush to tell Yuta or Ten about WinWin’s confession. If you’re not going to act on it, what does it matter?

But you can’t deny that you think about WinWin’s words, that you fantasize about being with him just as much as you’d fantasized about him, Yuta, Ten, and Mark while you’d been with Hansol.

Sometimes you think about it when you’re all hanging out together and you catch WinWin’s eye, or when you’re walking around the city together with just WinWin and his hand lingers just a little too long. Sometimes you think about it when you’re in the midst of having sex with one or the other of your demons, but you know that Ten might just burn up with envy if you mention WinWin while he’s the one you’re having sex with.

So you hold your tongue.

Things have been good between you and Ten since you kissed and made up for fighting over his jealousy and his disrespect to the faith. The last thing you need to do is create a spike in Ten or Yuta’s jealousy by bringing up WinWin. You don’t know what Yuta said to Ten that night, what words were exchanged at all before WinWin dropped you safely back at your door, but if Ten is still jealous, he hides it very well.

Mostly he hides it by showering you with his affection. Plenty of cuddles, kissing, manifesting gifts he thinks you’ll like, and clinging to you so much that you can tell he’s making Yuta a little jealous.

“Mine,” Ten murmurs, his face buried in your hair against your neck, his arms possessively around you.

You may not need to sleep as much as you once did, but you do still require it from time to time, and you were just trying to sleep when Ten slid into bed with you, tangling his legs with yours and fitting himself behind you. He smells like brimstone and sweat, a strangely appealing combination, even in the circumstances. You’ve just been pulled out of your nap time dreams to be faced with all of this, and instead of startling and pushing Ten away, you lean back into him, welcoming his presence. You don’t know where Yuta’s gone off to, but he’d been in the apartment when you dozed off. Everything feels quiet and empty now, and if you do your best to attempt to sense your surroundings (a trick they’ve been trying to teach you over the last week), all you can find is you and Ten curled tightly together in this bed.

Ten sighs a little, nuzzling against the back of your neck. You’re a little surprised, the more you wake up and remember that Ten had told you that he was going to be gone for a few days on a little mission for the Queen of the Night. Yuta hadn’t had to go, and he’d taken full advantage of having you to himself yesterday, which was probably part of the reason you’d felt tired enough to need sleep.

“You’re back?” You ask after a moment.

Ten hums. “I am.”

“You stink.” You let the words slip bluntly from your mouth.

Ten almost always showers immediately after returning from whatever it is that he does when he goes to Hell or goes on special jobs. Ten’s very clean, that’s one thing you’ve certainly picked up on more since this more intimate part of the relationship began. So for him to climb into bed unshowered and smelling like the armpit of Hell, you wonder what’s wrong.

“I know,” Ten agrees, voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted to hold you, though.” His arms grow tighter around your waist.

“If you hold me any tighter, I might just split in two,” you tease. Your first attempt at getting him to loosen his arms is unsuccessful, but after a moment Ten relents, and you’re able to twist around to face him.

His eyes are closed, eyebrows furrowed. You can see all the tiny veins in his eyelids, and when you extract a hand from where it’s trapped between your body and his, you lift your fingertips up to lightly touch Ten’s face. He’s beautiful, to an unreal degree. Of course, you’ve found him attractive and generally beautiful since your first meeting in the cemetery, but right now it’s really hitting you. His warm skin beneath your fingertips, the delicacy of his eyelashes and his semi-translucent eyelids makes you careful with your touch. His eyebrows relax slightly. The corners of his mouth twitch.

Your fingertips move from his eyelids to his nose, to the wrinkled spot between his eyebrows, back down his nose to the bow of his lips.

His eyes open, and you’re faced with a light brown color, caught somewhere between demon black and the yellow cat-eye. He watches you as you make a study of his face, memorizing every line and detail in dual perspective through your gaze and your touch. Ten’s eyes flutter half-closed and you swear he nearly purrs when your fingers drift to his hair and push along his scalp. His hair has grown out since you first met him. Nearly jaw-length and a little wavy. It’s soft, making him look pretty.

Ten makes a little sound when you lift your head from the pillow to lean in, but he welcomes your slow tender kiss, the way you fold yourself against his chest, the way one of your legs slides over his hip to hook around his lower back. Ten places a hand on your waist, letting it slide down to your hip, and when he finds your bare thigh and the oversized shirt that you fell asleep in now riding up, he smiles and deepens the kiss, tipping you back onto your back.

Ten’s thigh wedges between yours, and you start to move your hips in small circles against his thigh.

“Did Yuta neglect you yesterday, or do you just miss me that much?” Ten teases, breaking away from your lips to sponge kisses along your throat instead.

“You,” you sigh, “Missed you, Ten.”

“I missed you too, darling.” He sighs, breath feathering over your skin as he shifts the neck of your shirt to the side, exposing inches of your shoulder. His lips move like fire over your skin. “You’re the only Queen I want to serve anymore.”

You laugh, unable to help it, and you press at his shoulders. “You don’t mean that. I’m no Queen.”

Ten’s smile meets your shoulder, teeth nipping lightly. “Yes you are. To me. To Yuta. Queen of our hearts, mistress of our souls.”

“And what would your actual Queen say if she ever heard you say that?” You knit your fingers through his hair.

Ten groans, hiding his face against your chest. “Honestly, darling, I don’t really give a damn. I’m serious.” He lifts his head, blazing gaze meeting yours. “It might sound cheesy and lame, but you’re the only Queen I want to acknowledge. I don’t belong to her, not the way I do to you. I’m tired of her missions, tired of it taking me away from you, tired of….” Ten trails off, hiding his face once again. “I’m tired of missing you.”

“I’m right here.” You push your fingers through his hair until Ten tilts his head to look at your face. “You don’t have to miss me when I’m right here.”

His breath puffs against your shoulder. “I was thinking about you while I was away, you know. Daydreaming, you might say. About you all stretched out in your bed, right here like this, playing with yourself and waiting for me and Yuta. I daydreamt the feel of your cute bottom in my hands.” His hands slip beneath the shirt, around beneath your ass until he’s cupping the round cheeks. “The feel of pulling you into my lap, filling you with my cock when you’re so wet and tight around me. The way you ride me, your tits bouncing, all flushed and moaning. It was difficult to concentrate on the mission, anyway. I had to come home to you.”

You smile at him. “You spent your whole mission daydreaming about fucking me, but you’ve been home for how long now, and you’ve barely touched me.”

Ten sits up on his knees, his hands still on your ass, and he lifts your hips into his lap. “Let me remedy that.”

It’s easy enough for Ten to pull your panties to the side, baring your pussy to his hungry gaze. Easier still for him to tease your sensitive bits with his fingers, to fit two fingers perfectly inside you, curling them slightly to find that spongy spot inside you.

You gasp his name, arching your back, and the shirt slides up to your tits. Ten lowers his head to your belly, kissing over your abdomen while he pumps his fingers inside you. His tongue swirls over your belly button, igniting a deeper heat in your belly. This is the closest you’ll get to Ten eating you out – his mouth on your belly while he fucks you on his fingers – and you’re perfectly fine with that because Yuta’s always eager to make up for Ten’s lack of oral sex.

But today, Yuta’s not here, and Ten brings you crashing through your first orgasm on his fingers, his lips curling into a satisfied grin against your belly. His body between your thighs prevents them from closing around his hand, and he moves to kiss up your belly, pushing the shirt up with his free hand while he still strokes you through the orgasm, aftershocks shaking your limbs. Ten kisses your tits, over your heart, up your throat, and finally he reclaims your lips.

His fingers leave you feeling empty, and you whine against his lips, wanting him to fill you again.

Ten echoes the sound back to you, a little more breathy, definitely teasing. And when you feel his wrist nudge against your belly, you realize that he’s probably got his hand stuffed down his pants. The fingers that were just inside you are probably now wrapped around his cock.

Your knees draw up a bit, affording Ten the room to press closer to you, now grinding against you and his hand in equal parts. You kiss him and twist your fingers in his hair, silently imploring him to just get his cock out and put it in you. Something of your message gets across to him, and Ten shuffles on his knees, and then you’re tipping your head back to moan his name as he rolls his hips and buries himself inside you.

You bite your bottom lip as Ten pulls himself up, his hands sliding beneath your thighs to secure them around his hips. You like watching Ten like this, the way he moves so smoothly when he rolls his hips, hitting in deep. Ten likes watching you like this too, his warm brown eyes filled with lust and adoration as he watches one of your hands drift down between your legs to play with your clit.

“Just like that, darling,” he says, “Just like my daydreams.”

Ten is always so graceful, even when his composure begins to slip and his movements grow more determined, more intent with sparks lighting up his irises. He falls forward over you again, fists pressed to the mattress on either side of your head. His hair falls in front of his face, and you lift your hand to tuck one side of it back behind his ear. Ten turns his head to the side, brushing a kiss against your wrist, pushing even closer into you, readjusting your thighs and the tilt of your hips.

“C’mon, little saint,” Ten teases, his teeth dragging lightly over your wrist. “Cum for me.”

You won’t be won that easily.

Ten’s grin widens when you reach around to dig your nails into his muscled ass, when you lean up until your mouth touches his chest, lips around one of his nipples. Ten is so sensitive, that is one thing that you’ve learned since this started; he’s sensitive all over, so even just touching his chest like this and digging your nails in is going to drive him a little wild.

His eyes flash from the subtle brown they’ve been to his favored yellow cat eyes. You can’t deny that although seeing that does in fact strike you as bizarre, you also kind of like how the different eyes change Ten. His entire aura shifts ever so slightly. There’s a slightly more animalistic way that he looks at you, the way he moves inside you, like he wants to have you fully and completely.

And not that you would admit this aloud to him, but it vaguely makes you think of a different semi-animalistic man. A set of werewolf amber eyes.

Sooner or later, you’re going to have to bring that up to your two demons, but for now you suppress those thoughts to your best ability, focusing only on Ten.

You pull your lips away from his nipple, leaving kisses up his chest to his jaw, licking and sucking against a spot just beneath his jaw that makes Ten release a broken moan. His body presses impossibly closer as he sinks fully over you, hips twisting as he pushes your thighs open just a little more.

You’re all skin to skin now, the heat between you bringing a dew of sweat.

“Fucking perfect,” Ten praises you, his lips skimming your cheek. “Feel so tight around me, darling. And—“ You release one hand from his ass to run your fingers up the expanse of his back, just your fingertips on his skin, and Ten shivers against you. A soft moan and his eyes fluttering shut are big indicators that he’s enjoying it.

“Are you gonna cum for me, Ten?” You lick beneath his jaw again. “Make me cum too.”

Your bodies are both slick with sweat now, skin sliding and sticking together in equal parts. Ten drives his cock inside you rapidly, all sense of his smooth grace gone in his rush to just achieve the bliss of orgasm. His fingers move into your hair, tightly pulling and guiding your mouth to his for a messy kiss. The angle that he’s hitting has you moaning desperately into the kiss, your nerves and every sense alight.

Ten cums first, pulling out of you to cum over your belly, his cockhead blurting out cum against your clit as he pushes back down towards your entrance, pushing in deep to fuck you again.

Your hands go to his sides, holding tight to his tiny waist as he presses his forehead to yours and fucks you breathless. Ten circles his hips, grinding his cock into you, his lips parted as you both pant and moan softly to each other. Your orgasm rocks through you, and you squeeze and clench and hold tighter to Ten through it.

He collapses fully against you, every inch of your bodies pressed together, his forehead still against yours.

You lie there in the blissful aftermath for a few moments before you catch another whiff of sulphur and sweat, and you know it’s not just him anymore.

“Now we both stink,” you complain, trying your best to push Ten off of you, or at least to squirm out from beneath him. You want to wash the stink off, to smell instead like your body wash that quite literally smells like a happy summer day.

Ten, naturally, holds you even tighter, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head. “Now you smell like me because you’re mine,” he practically purrs. “You always smell like Yuta after you’ve been with him. When you hang out with Mark or WinWin, you smell like them. I want you to smell like me, even if just for a little bit.”

“Gross,” you pout, but you cease your squirming, content to lie here in sweat-damp sheets, playing with Ten’s hair idly, letting all the hours of eternity pass by if that’s what is going to make him happy.

<-previous || next–>

a/n: once again, I’m so sorry about the delay in getting this posted! I hope you enjoyed!!

#nct smut #yuta smut #ten smut #nct fics #wayv smut #nct #nct 127 #wayv #nakamoto yuta #yuta fics #ten fics #ten lee #unholy

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yourlocaldisneyvillain · 10 months

Text

...the unholy flames of ♥kink!week♥ burn brightly... (don't know what kink week is? click here!)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

∼ the unholy week nears its end, and today we venture into the murky waters of dubious consent — what monsters await us there? ∼

∼ day six brings us our beloved villain ♥ Captain Phasma ♥ ∼

∼ tags and the fic are under the cut ∼

♥ i've worked very hard on this series — it was a huge project to undertake and i would very much appreciate if you left me comments with your thoughts and impressions — you already know they make my heart sing ♥ (AO3 link — i prefer it to tumblr vastly)

tags: #rape/non-con elements #tentacle rape #tentacles #tentacle sex #tentacle monsters #dubious consent #extremely dubious consent #face-fucking #triple penetration #double penetration #anal sex #power dynamics #power struggle #choking #fainting #dom/sub #forced submission #rape #multiple orgasms #kink!week

easy prey (clicking on the title will lead you to ao3)

Captain Phasma sometimes manages to catch a breath in-between missions. Sometimes, she has a night off, and sometimes, on such nights, she lets herself blow off some steam — always, she does it by picking up a pretty thing, usually at a bar, and having some fun with her. She has a type she usually goes for — she prefers a pretty, human(oid) female that appreciates a firm hand.

She isn’t too picky, however, after weeks spent aboard a stuffy spaceship.

She’d never been to this bar — nor this planet. She doesn’t know much about this part of the galaxy, nor does she care to learn. Her plan for tonight is to hang out by the bar, get reasonably tipsy, and see if there’s a pretty girl she could have a good time with.

It doesn’t take long to spot her.

She’s gorgeous. Long, wavy hair down to her waist, dark, glowing skin so smooth it doesn’t look real, full lips that are made to appear ever plumper with glittery lipgloss, broad shoulders, skimpy bright blue dress that looks almost neon against her skin tone and barely covers anything. She’s just the right balance between muscular and soft. She dances alone with a drink in hand, paying no attention to the swarm of people trying to approach her and talk to her. She firmly pushes away anyone who tries to grind against her or gets too handsy.

Phasma needs to have her.

She waits until the girl gets bored of dancing and goes to the bar to buy another drink. The girl leans on the bar as she waits, her bare, toned back partially turned to Phasma.

“Not interested in a good time?” Phasma asks.

The girl turns towards her. Phasma is immediately struck by how unnaturally — how beautifully — blue her eyes are. If Phasma knew — or cared — about particular colour shades, she’d call them ultramarine blue. They are accentuated by glittery eyeshadow, and seem to shine in a way that’s just slightly unnerving and uncanny, indicating she might not be quite human, despite appearing so — but Phasma doesn’t care to analyse her genealogy. The girl seems human enough for activities that Phasma has in mind.

The girl smiles. “Not with those desperate bastards over there, that’s for sure.”

Her teeth are pearly white and shiny, and perhaps a bit sharper than Phasma had expected — but her voice is smooth, melodious and lilting, and Phasma forgets all about the teeth. She wants to hear more of that voice, wants to make this girl moan her name — or, preferably, her title.

“If you’re tired of desperate bastards groping you on the dance floor, you could sit here with me — have a nice chat.”

The girl eyes Phasma up and down, lingering on her muscular arms before looking her in the eye and smiling even brighter. Her blue eyes and her sharp teeth seem to shine in the dim light — the visual is a bit eerie. Phasma feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but she doesn’t think anything of it, distracted by lust and the pleasant fuzziness from all the alcohol she’d already had.

“And I suppose you’ll only grope me if I ask nicely?” the girl asks, sitting down on the stool next to Phasma.

“Ah, see? We already understand each other very well.”

The girl laughs. Her laugh is like a babbling brook, bright and melodious.

“I might ask you that later — but first, I’d like a name.”

Phasma isn’t keen on giving her actual name to one-night-stands.

“You may call me Captain,” she says, taking a sip of her drink.

“And are you a captain?” the girl asks with an amused glint in her eye, shifting on her chair.

It is in that moment her drink arrives. Before the girl can react, Phasma pulls out a crisp bill from her pocket and pays for the drink. She never breaks eye contact.

“I am.”

The girl takes a sip of her drink — some sort of sugary concoction that’s probably stronger than it looks. She nibbles on the pink, neon straw. “I could believe that.”

“And what should I call you?” Phasma asks.

The girl grins mischievously, straw in her mouth. “You could call me Lucy, but you could also call me something else, if you prefer.”

“Lucy is a lovely name.”

There is no way in hell her name is Lucy — but then again, Phasma’s name isn’t exactly Captain, either. She can understand the desire to keep one’s identity private, and she can appreciate a girl with a brain — even if the dumb ones are way easier to bed.

This one will probably be way more fun, though.

“So, Captain,” she purrs, raising her hand to caress Phasma’s bicep. “Wanna continue this pleasant conversation somewhere more private?”

Phasma is a bit taken aback by how eager the girl seems to be all of a sudden, especially since she seemed so disinterested in physical contact on the dance floor. Usually it takes a bit more flirting, and usually Phasma is the one to suggest going somewhere quieter — no girl wants to seem easy, after all.

Phasma doesn’t need to be asked twice, though.

She towers over Lucy as they walk through the crowd, enjoying how much smaller the girl is compared to her. She puts her hand on the small of her back — her skin is smooth like marble, but way hotter.

As soon as they exit the bar and step onto the dark alleyway, Phasma pins her against the wall and kisses her. Lucy nips on her lip with her sharp teeth and draws blood. Phasma enjoys it.

Easy prey, she thinks as they head towards Lucy’s residence.

It never crosses her mind that Lucy might be thinking the same thing.

Something about Lucy isn’t quite right — and Phasma, unfortunately, only becomes aware of that once they’re making out on Lucy’s couch.

Phasma is straddling her, pinning her wrists down with one hand, and the other one she runs over her throat before lightly squeezing. Lucy whimpers.

“Like being choked like a filthy slut, hm?” Phasma asks. Lucy shakes her head. “No? You’re out of luck then, pretty girl, because I enjoy that very much.”

She squeezes again — not too hard, but enough to let her know who’s in charge. She feels herself getting wet at the sight of Lucy squirming underneath her. The straps of her skimpy dress slid down and one of her nipples is exposed — it’s dark and pretty and perfect. Phasma can’t wait to put it in her mouth. Oh, she’ll love fucking this pretty thing.

Lucy is noticeably smaller than her, and a head shorter — she shouldn’t be able to throw Phasma off of her like she weighs nothing — nor climb on top of her and pin her down so she can’t move an inch — and not for the lack of trying.

And yet.

“Had enough of your little power trip?” Lucy says, smiling, and her teeth somehow seem sharper than before. Her blue eyes are glowing. She gives Phasma a look that makes all the hairs on her body stand up — predatory, lecherous, hungry.

She holds Phasma’s wrists down in the same fashion Phasma held hers moments ago, her long hair tickling Phasma’s neck. Phasma tries to throw her off of herself, but finds that she can’t — Lucy’s grip is iron. She keeps squirming, but Lucy doesn’t even break a sweat as she holds her down.

“You can’t escape, handsome thing,” Lucy purrs. Phasma stares at the glitter on her lips — remnants of her now smudged lipgloss.

“Fuck,” she says, giving up on trying to escape Lucy’s grip. There isn’t much else to say.

“Yes, that’s what I’m about to do,” Lucy chuckles, then surges forward and pushes her tongue into Phasma’s mouth. Phasma makes a guttural noise as Lucy kisses her and assaults her mouth with her tongue — a tongue that, now that Phasma thinks about it, feels a bit too smooth, and is perhaps just a bit too long. The girl isn’t human, that much is clear, but Phasma has no idea what she is.

“Like being choked, Captain?” Lucy purrs, breaking the kiss, her breath hot in Phasma’s mouth.

Before Phasma can react in any way there is a tentacle wrapped around her neck.

For a couple of seconds, Phasma can’t breathe. The tentacle feels smooth and slimy and slick, with little suction cups latching onto the skin of her neck hard enough to bruise. Her eyes widen in horror when she sees more of them appear above her. They seem to be sprouting from Lucy’s back, eight of them — thick, dark blue and glistening, with pink, fleshy suction cups.

Lucy releases the hold on Phasma’s neck, and Phasma gasps for air. The suckers painfully tug on her skin as Lucy removes the tentacle. It feels like getting a dozen hickeys all at once. Phasma hisses in pain.

“I love dominant women,” Lucy whispers in Phasma’s ear. “I love how helpless they look as I fuck them, and I love it even more when they realise they fucking love it.”

She licks Phasma’s neck, cleans up the slick left on it from the tentacle. Phasma actually enjoys the sensation, and would perhaps enjoy it even more if she wasn’t distracted by the fleshy blue and pink tentacles wiggling around her. She stares at them, wrists pinned down, frozen, as Lucy kisses her neck.

“Like them?” Lucy asks. Phasma can feel her grin into her neck.

They are horrifying, gross and slimy, but there is something mesmerising about the way they move — and they are attached to the most beautiful creature Phasma’s ever seen — that certainly makes a difference.

“Feel them,” Lucy purrs and pulls on Phasma’s wrists, bringing them behind her back. Phasma tries pulling back, but Lucy’s grip on her wrists is too strong. She guides Phasma’s hands to slide along the tentacles. Phasma’s entire body tenses up. “Mmm, that feels really good, you know,” Lucy murmurs into her ear, licking and placing lazy kisses onto it.

The slick tentacles and the sticky, bulbous suckers are unlike anything she’s ever touched. They feel weird, but not unpleasant — and mixed with Lucy’s hot kisses on her ear and her soft body pressed against Phasma’s, it’s… it’s…

Phasma settles on confusing.

“You must have thought I’d be such easy prey,” Lucy whispers as she grinds her hips into Phasma’s and slams her arms back onto the couch. “Pretty girl you could throw around a bit, get some frustration out on, hm? Have a quick, dirty orgasm while you choke me. And if you accidentally squeezed too hard, who’d know?”

“I wouldn’t kill you,” Phasma says, trying to keep her voice level, not wanting it to show how much she’s affected by Lucy grinding on her, the feeling of Lucy’s tits against her own, Lucy’s tongue on her ear. It’s not exactly a lie — she wouldn't kill her on purpose. If it happened accidentally, however…

Well — she wouldn’t dwell on the life of a pretty whore from a bar.

“How generous. Perhaps I won’t kill you either, then. It would ruin the mood just a little bit.” She takes Phasma’s lower lip between her teeth and bites on it, drawing blood. Phasma sucks in a sharp breath. “I’d much prefer to fuck and humiliate you. It’ll be super hot. I promise you’ll love it.”

Phasma feels both relieved that she probably won’t get killed tonight and completely horrified at the prospect of what this girl — this creature — might do to her instead. She wistfully thinks of her blaster, left by the door as they entered the apartment. Oh, what a fool she was to think she wouldn’t need it in a makeout session with a pretty alien.

Lucy seems to notice the dread in Phasma’s eyes, because she laughs, showing all of her sharp teeth. Her laugh is lovely sound — one that Phasma still finds charming. She wonders if the girl is some sort of siren-like creature.

Lucy caresses Phasma’s cheek — not with her hand, as she is still pinning Phasma’s wrists down — but with one of her tentacles. Phasma shivers at the feeling of the slimy, slick limb on her face leaving a wet trail of sludge.

“Afraid, hm?”

“No,” Phasma spits out. She’d rather die than admit to fear.

Lucy chuckles. “I can tell you’re a crazy bitch. And you know what?” She leans in closer. “It takes one to know one,” she whispers, and then laughs — it send chills down Phasma’s spine.

“I’d say you happened to meet your match, but I could eat you for breakfast without even blinking. Now, my advice for you would be to try to relax and enjoy yourself. It hurts more if you’re all tight,” she purrs and crashes her lips into Phasma’s again, forcing her tongue into Phasma’s mouth. It’s definitely too long for a human tongue, and she sticks it so far down Phasma’s throat that she gags.

“Aww, not a good gag reflex?” Lucy coos, breaking the kiss. “Poor thing. Let me give you a little treat as a reward.”

She sits up on Phasma’s lap, and before Phasma can use the fact that her wrists aren’t being held down anymore, Lucy replaces her hands with tentacles. Two wrap around her wrists, and two slide under her shirt, groping her tits over her sports-bra, wetting the fabric and leaving a disgusting trail of sludge on it. The suckers latch onto her skin — it feels bizarre — but she doesn’t dwell on the sensation too long. Her attention is taken by Lucy making a show of removing her dress, slowly sliding the straps down her shoulders. One of her nipples is already out from all the grinding and wrestling on the couch, but the other she reveals slowly — painfully slowly — letting the silky fabric slide down her perfect, round tit. Phasma watches her, mesmerised. Lucy is the prettiest thing she’s ever seen.

Lucy maintains eye contact with her as she undresses, ultramarine eyes sparkling in the dark apartment, plump lips curled into a wicked smirk. There’s glitter on her face from all the smudged makeup, and her long, wavy hair falls onto her shoulders in beautiful, fluffy tresses. Her dress now pools around her soft belly, and rides up her thighs. She isn’t wearing anything underneath, and Phasma can catch a glimpse of dark hair between her legs. She can feel the heat radiating from there against her own pelvis.

Lucy lazily starts rolling her hips into Phasma’s. Phasma’s eyes wonder up towards Lucy’s exposed tits that are lightly bouncing up and down as she grinds against her — perfect, round, soft tits, with small, dark nipples that she wants — needs — to have in her mouth. She watches, spellbound, mouth agape.

There is, however, a disturbing addition to the otherwise very arousing visual — the tentacles — slick, thick, deep blue and soft pink limbs that sprout from Lucy’s back and sides, four of them floating around her, and four pinning Phasma down and groping her over her bra. Phasma is only able to feel so much over the thick fabric strapping her tits down tight, but it still feels surprisingly good — better than Phasma would like to admit. And as she watches the alien goddess grind her hips on top of her, slimy tentacles surrounding her like a halo, tits bouncing, plump lips parted and smirking, she can’t deny it.

It turns her on.

She feels the wetness pool between her own thighs, and she's frustrated that she can’t do anything about it. She isn’t used to being helpless — or pinned down. She squirms underneath Lucy, unsure of what she’s really trying to do — escape, get some friction between her legs, or gain some semblance of control.

“Poor baby,” Lucy says, smiling wickedly. “Craving some attention, hm?”

Phasma is pissed. Nobody dares talk down at her like that — and if they do, she makes sure they never talk again. She squirms some more, exasperated, trying to sit up, and she almost manages — but then the tentacles slam her down into the couch, and she realises she was only able to get up even a little because Lucy let her. She’s fuming — Lucy is toying with her like a cat with its prey. Phasma tries kicking her legs, but that does precisely nothing.

“Fuck,” she grunts in frustration, and Lucy laughs. That bitch is laughing at her. Phasma thinks about blowing her head up with her blaster, and then each of the tentacles. She imagines how they’d twitch and fall down, limp and lifeless.

“You’re so cute when you can’t get what you want,” Lucy chuckles, then rips her dress from her torso in one swift move, throwing it on the floor. Phasma is so mad she doesn’t even register the fact that Lucy is now naked on top of her. She’s seething with rage, her vision blurring.

“You fucking bitch,” Phasma says through her teeth, “I’ll fucking kill you—”

“Ah-ah,” Lucy interrupts her. “You might wanna keep your pretty mouth shut, Captain. I’m the one who could kill you, after all.”

Phasma cries out in frustration, but then there’s a slimy, thick tentacle in her mouth. She almost gags on it. She tries to scream, but the only thing coming out of her mouth are muffled groans. She throws her head left and right, trying to get the thing out of her mouth, but there’s no way she can manage that. Tears fill her eyes. The sensation of sludgy, sticky suckers latching onto her tongue disgusts her. She tries screaming and squirming some more, but to no avail. Finally, she stills, realising her defeat. She’s breathing heavily, trying not to gag.

“All done with your little tantrum?”

Phasma just stares at those stunning, glowing, blue orbs mocking her, her chest heaving and her eyes wide.

“Good. Now, stay still while I undress you,” she says, as if Phasma could do anything other than obey.

Phasma stays as still as she can, but she’s shaking, unable to help herself. She feels her cheeks burn with shame and disgust for her own helplessness.

Lucy undresses her almost gently — using her hands, thankfully. First she removes Phasma’s boots, then she undoes her belt.

“Lift,” she says, and Phasma lifts her hips. Lucy pulls down her pants, then her underwear. Phasma trembles the entire time.

“Awww, don’t be scared, pretty captain.” She kisses Phasma’s knees, then up her thighs, strokes her legs and hips almost reassuringly. “You’re gonna get fucked so well — you’ll love it.”

Phasma just stares at her, hyperaware of the slimy tentacle in her mouth. Dread weighs down her stomach. She’s unable to do or say anything.

“I’ll free your mouth to remove your shirt now, hm? And if you’re good and stay quiet I won’t gag you again. Nod if you understand.”

Phasma nods. She tries not to think about the tentacle shifting in her mouth as she does so.

“Good girl,” Lucy says, and Phasma somehow manages to refrain from recoiling at the phrase.

The suckers tug painfully onto her tongue, releasing with little pops as Lucy pulls out the tentacle. Phasma lets out a throaty whimper and furrows her brows in pain. Once the limb is out of her mouth, she moves her jaw and winces at the sludge it left behind — not enough to spit out, but enough to be gross. She swallows bits of it. It’s salty.

“Like that, hm?” Lucy taunts her as she hooks her fingers under Phasma’s shirt. “Up.”

Phasma sits up and Lucy pulls the shirt over her head. “Stay.” She removes Phasma’s bra.

Phasma is fuming with rage at being talked to like a dog, but she says nothing — just closes her eyes and inhales deeply, trying to calm down. She is completely naked now. She can’t remember the last time she felt so exposed, so vulnerable.

“Open your eyes, Captain. Look at me.”

Phasma does as she’s told. She gives Lucy a look full of hate.

“So easily provoked,” Lucy chuckles. “Come ‘ere.”

She kisses Phasma — surprisingly gently. She nibbles on her lip, caresses her neck and runs her fingers over the short hair at the back of Phasma’s head. She presses herself flush against Phasma and wraps her legs around Phasma’s hips. Her breasts feel soft against’s Phasma’s own as she slowly grinds against her.

They make out for a while, and it almost feels normal, as if they’re just two naked women kissing instead of an alien and a war criminal playing a sick power game — with one side most definitely winning.

After a couple of minutes, Phasma slowly starts to relax into Lucy’s touch. She can’t resist her soft curves — she runs her hands over her breasts, grabs her hips — firmly, but not too hard, aware she’s not the one in control here. She’s very careful not to touch the tentacles.

Lucy, however, doesn’t hold back from exploring Phasma’s body — and Phasma must admit it feels nice. She usually isn’t very keen on letting people pleasure her, as it requires giving up too much control — but since any semblance of control she may have felt in this situation is long gone, she finds that she enjoys being touched for once. Lucy drags her fingernails across Phasma’s back, fondles and squeezes her tits, her hips, her legs, her ass, runs her hands over Phasma’s muscular arms and taut stomach. She seems to really like Phasma’s muscles, and Phasma can’t help but feel just a little bit smug about that.

Lucy quickly catches onto the fact that Phasma enjoys a bit of pain — she tortures and teases her by digging her nails into Phasma’s skin, biting her neck and her tits, leaving painful hickeys, slapping her face, tits and ass. Phasma feels herself go red with humiliation when Lucy spanks her really hard as she's kissing her, making her let out an embarrassing, needy whimper into her mouth.

“You’re just a needy whore, aren’t you? You just need someone to spank and fuck you properly,” Lucy murmurs and Phasma’s hand flies towards Lucy’s neck on instinct, anger and humiliation filling her, but Lucy just laughs and catches her wrist, bringing it down. “You could use those in a more productive way,” she says, smirking, and guides Phasma’s hands towards her tentacles, making her caress the place where the sludgy limbs sprout from her skin.

“Mmm, yes, do that,” Lucy purrs.

Phasma hasn’t really got a choice, so she does as she’s told. She massages the tentacles, runs her hands over Lucy’s waist and back, sludge coating her fingers, and Lucy stars producing sinful moans that make Phasma grow instantly wet — not that the previous activities haven’t already riled her up. Much to her horror, she realises she doesn’t find touching the tentacles that gross — not when it makes Lucy moan like that.

Lucy grinds her hips into Phasma’s, her movements growing more urgent and desperate by the second, and Phasma does the same. They dryhump on the couch, both moaning and grunting and groping each other, not concerned with being gentle.

Phasma craves Lucy’s pretty tits in her mouth, and she decides to grant herself that wish — Lucy lets her. Phasma sucks and bites on her nipples, moans at the feeling of the soft, heavy tit in her mouth. However, when she tries sliding her hand between Lucy’s thighs, Lucy slaps it away.

“I think we’ve had enough foreplay,” she says and roughly pushes Phasma down onto the couch.

Phasma is almost okay with Lucy fucking her at this point — she’s wet and turned on and Lucy is so attractive Phasma could forgive her most things. She even feels herself growing excited by the idea of Lucy’s fingers inside of her.

However, when instead of Lucy’s hands she feels Lucy’s tentacles on her body — wrapping around her arms and torso, spreading her legs apart, grabbing her tits, squeezing and latching onto her skin — a horrifying realisation hits her.

Lucy won’t use her hands to fuck her.

Lucy is sitting on the couch, back prettily arched, hand between her legs. She’s a beautiful and terrifying vision — the most alluring monster. Her smooth, dark skin glistens with sludge and sweat, her lips are parted, and her face and neck are full of makeup glitter. Her piercing blue eyes glow in the dark, and her round tits and soft belly look enticing enough to bite. Blue and pink tentacles wiggle around her — horrid, thick, disgusting, sludgy limbs.

The tentacles wrap around Phasma’s tits and squeeze — Phasma suppresses a moan . They caress her torso, her neck, latch onto her skin, give her painful hickeys. They keep her legs spread and hold her arms firmly in place. One of the tentacles slowly makes its way up Phasma’s legs.

The tentacle touches the inside of her thigh. Phasma would recoil if she could move — instead, her stomach muscles spasm. “No,” she says, as the tentacle slides up her thigh. “No, no, no—”

The tentacle touches her vulva. Sticky suckers latch onto Phasma’s skin, onto her clit, and she cries out in pleasure, pain and horror. “Fuck,” she cries through gritted teeth.

“Feels good, hm?” Lucy asks, voice breathy and gaze hooded as she touches herself. “My handsome captain. I’m gonna fuck you so well.”

She slides the tentacle down towards Phasma’s entrance. Phasma wonders if that thing can even fit inside of her. She squeezes her eyes shut and braces herself for the pain of being stretched out — but the tentacle slides further down, over her pussy lips and towards her ass — and then she feels it probe around a much tighter hole.

“No,” Phasma says, squirming as the tentacle pushes against her muscles. “No, stop — stop! Stop!”

She knows there’s no stopping what’s about to happen, but she fights it anyway, squirming and screaming. She tenses up when she feels the tip of the tentacle push inside of her. The thing is sludgy and slick enough that it doesn’t burn and sting too badly — but it still hurts.

“My advice would be to relax, Captain. It’ll hurt much more if you’re tense,” Lucy says, voice thick and breathy, as she rubs her own clit. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this.”

Phasma hates to admit she’s right — the smartest thing would be to relax as much as she can, if she doesn’t want it to hurt much more than it needs to. Taking a deep breath, she does her best to unclench her muscles. She feels the tentacle slide a bit further in and she grimaces, but doesn’t tense up again, instead letting it slowly fill her. It stings, and it feels wrong — but then the tentacle touches a good spot and she moans. It starts slowly sliding in and out of her. She’s breathing heavily, trying not to make any more embarrassing sounds — but then it suddenly picks up the pace and starts pounding into her, and she cries out in pleasure and pain.

Before she can get used to the feeling of being fucked, another tentacle slides into her pussy without warning, filling her and painfully stretching her. “Fuck!” she cries.

She’s being fucked in both holes — it hurts and it burns, and she can feel the two tentacles touch over her inner walls. The slimy suckers provide a different sensation than the smooth, slick part of the tentacle, and Phasma hates how good the different texture feels. One of the suckers latches onto her clit, and then Phasma can’t hold back her moans anymore. With each thrust she lets out a puff of air and a whine. Her cheeks and chest burn in shame — but then Lucy fucks her harder and the suckers latch onto her nipples, and she forgets all about shame. Delicious pleasure overwhelms her.

Lucy continues to touch herself as she watches her. The air is filled with moans and cries and wet noise of tentacles pounding into Phasma, as well as the slick sound of Lucy rubbing her own pussy.

“Does it feel good, hm?” Lucy asks, her voice breathy. “Tell me.”

Phasma doesn’t have it in her to form a coherent sentence — she just whines as the both tentacles keep hitting the right spots. That, combined with the sucking on her clit and nipples, makes her unable to think about anything else except the orgasm that is starting to build deep inside her belly. She’s never experienced anything quite like this. Tears are streaming down her face and she’s producing sounds she never thought she was capable of making. Her entire body tingles with pleasure.

Then, Lucy stops.

Phasma is breathing heavily, frustrated by not getting enough stimulation to keep the delicious pleasure building. She still, however, considers herself above begging. She avoids looking Lucy in the eyes, her shame too deep — but Lucy will have none of that. A tentacle grabs Phasma’s chin and forces her head towards Lucy. Phasma closes her eyes.

“Look at me.”

Phasma slowly opens her eyes and meets Lucy’s bright blue ones that are shining with lust. She looks absolutely beautiful, and somehow ethereal — she’s almost glowing in the dark room.

“Wanna come?” she asks her. Phasma is silent. “Tell me, slut.”

Phasma makes a quick and practical decision in about a couple of seconds — she figures that since she’s already completely and utterly humiliated, she could at least get an orgasm out of it.

It still isn’t easy to say it.

“Yes,” she manages to utter. She doesn’t recognise her own desperate and raspy voice.

“Then beg.”

They stare each other down for a moment. Phasma knows she’s lost — she disregards the last bits of dignity left in her and begs.

“Please,” she breathes out, barely audible.

“Louder.”

Phasma averts her gaze. “Ah-ah, look at me.”

Phasma obeys and begs again, this time louder. “Please.”

“Say, I need you to fuck me like a filthy slut.”

Phasma takes in a shaky breath. She struggles to maintain eye contact, but forces herself to do it nonetheless. “I—I need you to… fuck me…. like a filthy slut,” she utters, her voice breaking. Her cheeks burn and her stomach twists with humiliation.

Phasma will never admit it to anyone — you could hold her at gunpoint and she’d deny it — but there’s something erotic about giving up control — about letting yourself be somebody you aren’t, somebody who begs to be treated like a filthy slut. She’s never been fucked like this before, and she didn’t think she’d enjoy it — she’s never craved it, never fantasised about anything of the sort.

And yet.

Lucy grins, and it’s downright evil. “Well — since you’re begging, Captain.”

Without further warning, Lucy starts fucking her harder than before. Tentacles slide in and out of her, suckers latch onto her body, her clit, her nipples. She whines and moans, unable to help herself, but then a tentacle is forced into her mouth again and it muffles her desperate sounds. Phasma is almost grateful for it — she can’t bear listening to her own embarrassing cries.

Lucy rubs her own clit, brows furrowed in pleasure, beads of sweat dripping down her face and chest. She lets out quiet little huffs as she works herself towards her own release. Phasma watches her, and feels an orgasm build in her belly again, deep and potent. She gags on the tentacle, completely helpless as it fucks her mouth relentlessly. She feels the burning sting of her holes being stretched, revels in the delicious pleasure of her clit and nipples being sucked. She can’t move, she can’t scream — she can only watch Lucy cry out and come around her own fingers, before she herself tips over the edge of ecstasy.

The orgasm washes over her like a wave. She would scream if she could, but instead she just grunts and convulses, her eyes rolling back in her head. She shakes and trembles, and Lucy doesn’t stop — instead she fucks her into another orgasm.

Phasma is vaguely aware of a sticky tentacle wrapping around her neck and squeezing — she can’t breathe for a couple of seconds, and then she can again — and then she comes even harder than before. Somewhere around her third orgasm Lucy squeezes onto her neck a bit too hard and too long, and Phasma loses consciousness.

When she comes to, she doesn’t know where she is. She’s in pain, her head is throbbing, and she feels nauseous.

She lies on the floor for a while, fighting the urge to throw up. She rolls onto her side, pressing her aching body against the hard concrete and hissing in pain. She blinks furiously, trying to stay conscious and clear her vision.

A neon sign catches her attention, and she blinks some more to try and read it. She quickly realises it’s the sign in front of the bar in which all of this started. It’s not the dead of the night anymore, however — dawn is breaking.

She somehow manages to lift herself from the floor and not throw up. Her head is pounding, every muscle in her body hurts, and she can barely walk. She’s sore from the fucking. She’s relieved to see she’s in the clothes she came here in, even if they’re wrinkled and dirty and have dried tentacle slime on it.

And she’s, of course, also relieved that she’s still alive — she figured the girl wouldn't kill her, but she couldn't tell for sure. What a stupid way to go it would have been.

She looks at her wrists. They have disturbing looking hickeys on them — rows of purple dots in the shape of tentacle suckers — she figures the rest of her body probably looks similar. There’s also makeup glitter on her hands. She shudders.

Somehow she manages to get back to the ship. Nobody dares ask questions.

She spends the entirety of that day in a hot bath, fuming with rage, grunting in pain, trying to fully remove makeup glitter from her skin with little success, and thinking about the best orgasms of her life.

A year later, she’s on the same planet again — and yet again, she has some free time before a mission. Before she can overthink it, she finds herself in the same bar.

She doesn’t know why she does it. There’s no way that thing will be here again.

When she catches Lucy’s gaze in the crowd, her belly tingles with excitement.

“Missed me, Captain?” she purrs as they dance, bodies pressed flush against each other.

Phasma grabs her face and kisses her.

She comes several times that night. When she wakes up unconscious in the alleyway again, she swears not to do this ever again.

And she doesn’t.

...

Not until the next time she comes to town.

big thanks to lovely @opheliauniverse for editing <3

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#kink!week #7 days of kink #captain phasma #captain phasma x original female character #gwendoline christie #i will produce my own garbage and also consume it #star wars sequel trilogy

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