#leave my hot monster alone

[iyamaggies-blog]

Fortunate timing

Yall ready for some shameless nonsense? Cause that’s what I wrote! This takes place after the latest episode I believe it’s called ‘transformation’ I already got spoilers for what about to happen but we don’t have to talk about that now! Enjoy the smut!

Mahitos wailing had quieted into harsh whimpers and labored pants as he continued his frienzied tugging at your cothes and body desperately seeking some form of comfort. Sitting between your spread legs he burries his face into your chest and grabs at your sides tightly. It felt incredibly unsettling to see him so rattled. Mahito was a lot of things: clever, powerful, immature but never frightened

“Shhhh it’s ok.” Your hand reached up to run through his hair gently in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m with you now, we came to save you.”

It was truly fortunate timing that you and Geto had found him when you did. Beaten and battered, Mahito had crawled away from his opponent and called out to you in anguish the moment you were in his view.

“Looks like our favorite curse needs to lick his wounds, why don’t you drag him off somewhere to settle down while I settle finish things here?” Geto had suggested with a smile. It was difficult physically moving Mahito away from the scene but you had managed to get him far enough away that you felt secure to stop and attempt to soothe him.

You sat like that for awhile practically on top of each other, fingers detangling his dirty war torn hair cooing comforting words at him while he remains glued to your chest. You briefly think he’s settled until he begins another round of frienzied movement. He pulls violently at your shirt. fearing he’ll shred it completely you allow him to tug it up over your breasts. The moment your skin is exposed to him Mahito begins attacking your chest with uncoordinated harsh bites and sloppy licking “M-Mahito!” The last syllable asending to a high pitched squeal when his focus turns to your delicate nipple. Licking around the circumstance then grasping and pulling at your pert nub with his teeth before sucking it into his warm mouth. He suckled needfully, soft whimpers escaping him as his desperate hands drifted into a firm grip on your hips thumbs caressing your skin. A deep blush covered the majority of your face at the sight, Mahitos eyes were glossy and unfocused while his spit began to glaze increasingly more of the skin around his sloppy nursing, despite the frenzied nature of his attentions the encounter feels oddly intimate. Heat radiates throughout your body, you’ve never seen Mahito so vulnerable before it’s as if he was clinging to your presence as proof he had survived. You shift slightly, aching for friction as your pussy gets more and more drenched. His hand slides around to your lower back forcing an arch and pressing your chest securely into his face. Your almost tempted to stay here letting him self soothe forever. As his lips suction around your bruising nipple again you let out a soft cry and pull gently at his hair urging him to make eye contact.

His eyes dart up to meet your flushed face. His face is coated with exhaustion and his gaze is wild and wanting.

He stares at you eyes wide and unblinking releasing the battered nipple from his mouth with a soft pop. You whimper from the loss but he keeps his eyes locked with yours “Your gonna let me feel you right cutie? You gotta be my good bunny and take care of me like Geto said.” He drags his wet elongated tounge over your breast starting directly into your soul and you respond with heavy breaths and a gentle nod.

Mahito pushes you onto the ground, rushing to crawl on top of you “A-ah!” a pained howl erupts from him as he looses his balance, landing near your side. Glancing down in confusion you see his ankle still mangled from his battle with Sukunas vessel. Looking back at his face you notice his expression has soured. Bitter defeat paints his features as he looks away. He lets you push his back to the ground as you crawl on top of him. You bring one hand up to cup his face. “Hey, your here with me now….” Your other hand moves lower to stroke him through his pants “and I’m gonna take care of you like Geto said ok?” His face softens only barely as he leers up at you but his face tilts leaning slightly into your palm before you retract your hand.

You manage to shimmy his pants down his thighs and bring your attention back to his throbbing erection. You wrap your fingers around his girth and stroke up and down his length precum lubricating your firm steady mintrations. He yanks you forward and snatches a fistful of your hair angling your face inches away from his intense stare. He unceremoniously pushes two of his fingers in your mouth. “Stick your tounge out.” You comply quickly with his command and he rewards you with third finger gliding in and out over your tounge at the same pace your hand strokes him

His lidded eyes ogle your mouth as drool starts to pool at the corner of your lips“Such a good bunny” he coos “so eager for me to use you. Even like this.” His praising pulls a grin to your face. You close your lips and bob your head to suck at his fingers with sensual enthusiasm.

“I want your cunt now.”

His fingers leave your mouth with a lewd pop and he suddenly releases the forceful grip of your hair. Mahito uses his saliva coated fingers to stroke himself while you dismount him to pull off your clothes.

Your breaths feel heavy when you take your position over him. Your wanting hole directly above the fat head of his- “Your wet enough to take me now right?” He questions abruptly shoving a finger knuckle deep inside to see for himself. You cry out at the pleasurable intrusion but whimper as he removes the digit just as quickly. Your eyes dart up his face to catch an amused smile ghost his lips. He pulls down by your hips impaling you fully on his thick length. “A-ah Mahito s’too much.” You yelp.

“I know you can take it. I checked you.”

He pushes and pulls at your hips relentlessly while you follow along to the pace he’s set. “Besides you look so cute when you’re struggling. You can keep it up right? You’re being soooo good!”

The deep fast strokes of his cock against your tight walls set your body on fire and make your head spin. His thick cock drags against that soft spot inside you over and over again forcing your eyes shut and a wanton moan to rip from your throat. Your so lost in the pleasure you don’t notice Mahitos hand release your hip until you feel his thumb against your clit, the pressure making your whole body jolt. Your eyes snap open at the new intense pleasure and you both lock eyes while his plays with your clit aggressively. It’s strange how such a ruthless curse can look so angelic. His hair is disheveled and fanning around him while he whines and whimpers underneath you. His strong chest rising and falling rapidly with his uneven breathes.

You savor every inch of him stretching you open as you reach closer and closer your high. Mahito lets out a loud groan and you know he’s close. You dive down to smash your lips together, forcing your tounge into his mouth as your orgasm crashes over you. Your walls tighten as creamy slick gushes all over him pushing him towards his own release. Mahito wraps his arms around your torso and groans into your mouth when he cums thrusting up into through his high. His hips still but you stay there. Your wild making out slowly subsiding into softer intimate kisses. After awhile you shift to move but Mahito keeps you in place with a firm grip. There’s a beat of silence as you lay there on top of him, his cock still nestled deep inside your messy cunt.

“I wonder if Geto would know how to make you a curse so I can keep you forever.” he ponders out loud.

Your heart skips a beat

‘He wants to keep me forever?’

The thought sends heat to your face which you hide by nuzzling into the crook of his neck and mumble back a response

“Stop being silly you need your rest now.”

#jjk season 2 #jjk thirsts #jjk smut #jjk mahito smut #mahito fanfic #shameless #jujitsu kaisen #mahito smut #I know this isn’t what’s about to happen #leave my hot monster alone #mahito simp #mahito x reader #mahito x you #mahito fanfiction #finger lickin good

[noose-lion]

I'm about to kill (in minecraft) this bitch in my art class.

#not important #TELLING PEOPLE SHIT ABOUT THEIR ART ALL THE WHILE BECOMING A LIL BITCH IF SOMEONE CRITIQUES YOUR ART JUST A LITTLE DURING THE CLASS CRITIQUE #TEARING HER APART WITH TEETH MAWING AND KILLING AND AGGHHHAGHAHAGAGHA #YOU CANT EVEN TAKE ADVICE YOU LITTLE BITCH STOP TELLING OTHER ARTIST “WELL I'D DO THIS” AND “IT'D LOOK BETTER LIKE THIS” #YOUVE BEEN DRAWING FOR 7 YEARS?A REALLY? IT DONT SHOW #STOP BRAGGING ABOUT THE PROFESSOR LEAVING YOU ALONE BECAUSE “I KNOW WHAT IM DOING” BITCH YOU'RE JUST SO DIFFICULT TO TEACH SHE STOPPED TRYIN #THIS BITCH TALKS SHIT ABOUT MY ART BEHIND MY BACK #YOU LITERALLY TURNED IN A BOX WITH HOT GLUE DRIZZLED ON IT AND MONSTER CANS GLUED TO THE SIDE SORRY IM BETTER THAN YOU #college shenanigans #jester lore #jesters privilege #jester's ramblings

[zap0ch0s]

here the designs for the stitchpunk monster AU, that is really called "The Little Fox", sorry, I got lazy to draw 1 but I'll bring him later, whenever I want.

Seita, my beloved...

#shane acker's 9 #9 2009 #9 shane acker #9 movie #Stitchpunk monster AU #The Little Fox AU #Seita is my hot bitch leave me alone

[catstack17]

my superiority complex comes from loving steve harrington since the end of season one, that’s where his development started. i have the right to gatekeep him, and i will.

#steve harrington #loml #stranger things #he’s been my favorite for at least three seasons #edit: it’s been four seasons he’s been my fav you can’t hate him at his worst but love him at his best #and hot take but he honestly wasn’t all that awful in s1 #don’t get me wrong he has his flaws and he never should have antagonized jonathan the way he did even if it was out of hurt #him calling jonathan a certain word in a derogatory tone and then disgracing joyce and then will was out of line #but his immediate development when going to the byers’ house to apologize to jonathan (though nancy opened up the door) #his refusal to leave nancy and jonathan alone with a monster that he previously had little knowledge about then hitting it w/ a nail bat- #even though nancy had a gun to his face telling him to leave #which he hesitates in leaving but does then can’t leave either of them to fight the thing and saves jancy’s lives in the process #bc the monster pretty much would’ve killed both nancy and jonathan had steve not hit the thing and protected them both #the level of love i have for steve harrington is beyond comprehension honestly #his previous actions causes viewers to fully admire and appreciate him more when he has even more growth and development from s2 to s4

[yesistolethisurl]

Daisy: Stay away from me, hellspawn.

Raphael: Patience, dear. *teleports away*

Me:

#/my posts #Daisy Katabast #SHE ALREADY GOT AWAY FROM MAMMON LEAVE HER ALONE #anyways daisy is in act 2 now and gale legitimate caught her off guard #with the ''you look so hot when you're killing monsters'' speech lmao #then again I don't know if anyone expects it #bg3 #baldurs gate 3

[ghostsy]

The Other

yandere ! ITADORI YUJI x READER x yandere ! SUKUNA

WARNINGS: yandere, misogyny, nsfw, implied noncon

A/N: A bit different than usual, less story and more imagine, I just had a Thought TM that wouldn't leave me alone.

read at your own discretion.

❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈

What about Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but it’s 19th century Gothic Yuji and Sukuna obsessing over their cute little lab assistant.

Where Yuji finds himself falling in love with the pretty little thing that turned up one night on his doorstep. How could a gentleman refuse a damsel in distress? She’d had nowhere to go, and a woman on the streets is a woman without dignity. He’d done her a favor taking her in, feeding her, clothing her, teaching her everything he knows. Well, almost everything. 

And it’s not that she’s not grateful, no, she’s always eager to please, pretty doe eyes blinking up at him with only the purest intentions of proving her worth. 

It’s when that voice in his head that he swears isn’t his starts to talk. 

Bend her over and spread her legs.

He’d had years of experience tuning the other inside of him out, and begrudgingly grew used to the snide remarks about the so-called useless pussy on legs. But it’s only when his more ignoble half begins to make suggestions with less than savory intentions that he finds himself wavering. He tries to reason that it isn’t him, not really. He can keep it under control. He always has. 

It’s the small things really, how she bites the tip of her pencil in concentration during his lectures, determined to be of some use to him. Pretty lips parted oh so delicately, hugging the tip to her teeth.

Let me out. I want to see that whore mouth painted white with my cum.

Or when she blinks dumbly at him from under butterfly lashes, a sheepish giggle and warmth on her cheeks because something he said went in one ear, through her ditzy little brain, and out the other.

Dumb little thing would sink down and suck our cock dry if we told her it was in the name of science, wouldn’t she? 

An involuntary twitch of his fingers sends his heart leaping to his throat.

Why don’t you find out?

He drowns it out until the cover of night shields him, locked inside his chambers before giving an inch to the monster. Stroking his cock to the image of her laid out naked and moaning beneath him, legs spread and welcoming. Where the thought of licking the sweat from the skin of her neck has him hurtling off that cliff, and into the resulting ocean of shame.

Little things build up, he finds, and even with her painfully female brain, she begins to notice something off. Though, he finds himself grateful when it isn’t disgust that meets him, but concern. Oh, bless women and their nurturing sensibilities.

She’ll fuss over him like a true lady, mothering but not smothering. Anything he needs to help soothe those pesky migraines. And he’ll finally realize an acceptable way to indulge in his impure thoughts. He’ll make the street urchin he turned lady his wife.

He ignores the rumbling of low laughter that rattles his brain at the thought, deep enough to shake something important but easily forgotten in his bones.

He’ll make all the appropriate preparations for a courtship, determined to woo her as a man would, as a man should. Dress her up, and take her on a promenade through the finest parts of town, introducing her to the finest people at the finest parties.

But he reasons that was his first mistake. Because when he watches her laugh, all airy and bright, intentionally tempting, entirely too close to that brooding dark-haired duke he liked to call brother, white hot fury spills into his veins. That distant familiar desire, heady in all its glory, bloodlust, is his only warning. And the other, who’d been quiet for quite some time, smugly returns. 

A whore is a whore no matter the clothes. You thought she’d choose you?

He’ll down glass after glass of scotch, determined to ignore it, but too focused on the brush of her delicate fingers alongside the Duke’s sleeve. There’s a look in his friend’s eye he’s never quite seen before; it’s soft, warm, and it’s all it takes for him to rush to the water closet and hurl up the contents of his stomach.

Pathetic. A man doesn’t wait to be chosen. A man takes what’s his. There’s only one between us. Let me out. 

A man takes what’s his. It’s a thought that settles too comfortably in his mind, and he resolves to keep her close. No more outings with those snobbish lords and ladies. Just to save her the embarrassment of exposing the unrefined nature of her peasant birth any more than she already had.

It’ll work for a time, but it’s just a little while later that his brother turned traitor starts turning up on the manor’s doorstep with his own intentions of courtship. Excuses of their preoccupation with scientific breakthroughs and studies only keep him at bay for so long.

I’ll do what you can’t. Let me out. 

He begins to wonder whether the beast had been wrong when he catches her wistful stares out the window, too conspicuously asking about the wellbeing of a man that isn’t him. A whore is a whore. When she comes back from town with the excuse of restocking food or supplies, why does she take longer and longer to return each time?

Let Me Out.

He’ll question why it isn’t enough. Why he isn’t enough. He isn’t, not if her attention still turned elsewhere. There’s a beating at the door of his mind that threatens to split at any moment. Finally, mercifully, she’ll relieve the struggle with two words.

He proposed. 

He proposed. He proposed. He proposed. He doesn’t hear anything after that, not as she sputters out empty placations and gratitude. Not when she solidifies her intentions of leaving him.

He just responds in kind with two earth-shattering words of his own.

Come out.

#yandere jjk #yandere itadori #yandere sukuna #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere itadori x reader #yandere sukuna x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #i wrote this today so if there's grammar mistakes no there's not

[nuviastarsworld]

Hii I wanted to ask if you could make some headcanons for monster hyun su from s2. Smut heqdcanons too if you can. I can't wait to see what s3 has in store for us.

—Headcanons | Cha Hyun-su [2]

!!!; explicit content, s1 Hyun-su’s monster x reader, oral sex; male recieving, doggy style, I’m not really used to writing headcanons so this is written in a normal paragraph format, I’m not good at writing smut I did my best. If anyone I know irl finds this I’ll cry...anyways!!! Enjoy :) make sure to leave comments so ik ur thoughts <33

Imagine Hyun-su’s monster finding a particular type of interest in you.

When you and Hyun-su first met, he was infected, but that didn’t bother you, not in the slightest. When you got together, his monster side was showing up more and more often, to the point you got used to it.

His monster side came from his deepest desires, and one of his greatest ones was you. Whenever Hyun was close to you, his monster would tend to overreact, talking and whispering things about you in Hyun’s head all the time.

Hyun’s monster would show up at random moments, like when you and Hyun are having talks together. The monster would intrude and give aimless comments, as if trying to communicate with you, you’d normally just ignore his monster, or just to be comedic even talk back to Hyun’s monster as if you were friends. Not acknowledging that the more you did this, it encouraged his monster to lurk around you more and more.

It was even to the point were during your quiet times, like cuddling in the quarantine room, And Hyun would have a hold around you, his monster would pop up, then Hyun’s hold would tighten, squeezing you. Not tight enough to hurt you, but tight enough to make sure you couldn’t get out. Like it didn’t want you to leave.

Hyun su would obviously be worried about this. His monster side was trying to get too close to his girlfriend. Of course he’d be worried. As far as he knew his monster side was dangerous, but you’d always reassure him that you were fine, you wouldn’t admit that it was quite entertaining, and that a tiny part of you enjoyed the monster’s company.

You were fully aware that Hyun’s monster would never hurt you. So you weren’t worried in the slightest.

At times, When You and Hyun were alone in the quarantine room, things turn quite hot and heavy between you two. You’d be straddling Hyunsu on his lap on the couch, the two of you share a kiss that soon turns more passionate as seconds pass.

Hyun-su would normally keep his hands to himself until you say otherwise, but this time you feel his hands move around your body. From your hips to your back, squeezing and kneading your sensitive skin, putting his hands under your shirt.

You weren’t uncomfortable, just surprised, Hyun-su wasn’t this assertive when you two were alone. It took you enough time to realise it wasn’t Hyun, but his monster and by then it was already too late. You were on your knees Infront of Hyun su, but it wasn’t really Hyun-su. His pants down and his cock out. Ready for you to take in your mouth.

Hyun-su’s monster was definitely as needy as regular Hyun-su, if not even more. For anytime you’d slow down your pace, he’d whine and complain for you to go faster or harder.

His Monster side is also a head/hair grabber, especially if you’re wearing a ponytail. He likes to grab your head to make you suck him faster. Your hair just because.

He definitely likes to choke you sometimes, not to hurt you but to hear the sweet groans that come out of you when you do.

His monster side also enjoys cumming either on your face or in your mouth. Either way he likes it messy.

He also praises you when he feels as if your doing so well. Especially when he’s face fucking you and you try not to gag on his dick. He’d let out phrases like, ‘you’re such a good girl taking me so well’

Eventually it will end up with you arched on the couch, him ramming into you from behind, each thrust making a clapping sound as the skin collided, you moaning and crying at the same time because the pleasure is too much to take.

He holds your hips in place with both hands tightly, and he goes at a medium pace at first, but quickens at your request, he too is finding pleasure as you squeeze around his length and is reaching his high as minutes pass.

He would definitely comment about making you a mother...

When he’s about to come he’d pull out and release on your back, holding you upright as he pumps his load.

And after all this, Hyun’s monster would leave you exhausted and tired, putting you to sleep after, then Hyun’s eyes would fade away into their normal appearance, and he’d find his girlfriend naked underneath him on the couch, taking a short nap. He’d be so confused.

#nuvia narrates… #kdramas #kdrama imagine #kdrama imagines #sweet home #sweet home kdrama #sweet home x reader #cha hyun su #cha hyunsu #cha hyunsoo x reader #cha hyun su imagine #cha hyun su x reader #cha hyun soo #cha hyun su x femreader #cha hyunsu smut #hyunsu smut #smut headcanons #am I considered a monster fucker now... #if any of my irl friends find this.. #if u know me irl no u dont

[batterygarden]

love is in the air . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

contents: big bro! yuuta x fem & afab reader, dead dove do not eat, sex pollen, incest, virginity loss (reader), drugged sex vibes, unprotected sex w cream pies, size kink w slight pain, oral f!receiving, overstimulation, dacryphilia, 3.2 k words. hbd to my king

18+, minors dni please

When Yuuta’s teleported into his room, he’s horrified to see you already there. 

You’re wearing his clothes, as per usual, and flopped across his bed while you do your homework—likely waiting for him to get home to help you with the math. Normally, this wouldn’t be out of the ordinary; the two of you have always been close and Yuuta doesn’t mind the way you tend to loiter. The thing is, you were supposed to be out shopping with your girlfriends after class today. You’ve been talking up these plans all month–-Yuuta never imagined you’d cancel.

And here he is, high off his ass on cursed aphrodisiacs (misted straight into his lungs by some flower monster) and contemplating every forbidden fantasy in his arsenal with a newfound urgency. 

You jump nearly a foot in the air when you see him, so perfectly still and silent at first that he goes unnoticed.

“Oh my god, nii-san! You scared me!”

You don’t seem to catch how off he is yet, how labored his breaths come or how he’s covered in a sheen of sweat. He wishes you would. Maybe then the proper alarm bells would be ringing and you’d leave. 

Yuuta only backs away, shoving hair from his face while his eyes dart all over the room, anywhere to avoid drifting to your body and the way his t-shirt pools around it. 

His fatal mistake is his failure to beeline it straight out his bedroom door. In his defense, Yuuta’s thoughts are awfully foggy, and an escape route is hard to pin down, even within his moderately-sized room. Instead he trips over a book bag and lets himself tumble backwards to the floor, his katana thunking loudly when it drops from his shoulder.

His vision and hearing are a bit foggy, too, as he watches you approach him off his bed, almost appearing to move in slow motion. 

“Nii-San? What happened to you?” 

He makes a strangled sound when you reach to touch his face, leaning away from your hand. 

“Just lost my balance! I’m okay. Y’shouldn’t touch me right now.” 

Did his words come out slurred?

You frown, letting him know the fall wasn’t what you meant when you were asking, practically pinning him against the wall to feel his forehead.

“Hmm. I can’t tell if you have a fever or you’re just hot.” 

“It’s probably nothing. Was fighting a curse earlier and—achoo!“  

Yuuta turns away to sneeze just as you move your head to the side to look at him closer. He accidentally sneezes directly into your face, earning a little gasp. 

He scoots away frantically then. 

“Sorry, sorry! I don’t wanna get you sick, okay? I need to be alone. You can leave.” 

You wipe at your face, holding back a giggle at the state of him. You haven’t seen Yuuta this impaired since he had the flu when you were kids.  

“Nii-san, you need me to take care of you.” Your tone is matter of fact, but doting too. Deep down you’re relishing in this role reversal—Yuuta’s always the one looking after you, not the other way around.

He starts shaking his head, rubbing tiredly at his eyes when suddenly a wave of vertigo hits you. 

Then you’re tumbling to the floor with him. 

Your voice sounds far away when you breathe a little woah, taking longer than you should to register what’s just happened. When you do, you turn to Yuuta—a reflex whenever you’re hurt or something goes wrong—you’ve grown spoiled by his overprotective nature. So much so that even the tiniest stumbles have you expecting a warm, calloused hand beneath your elbow, lifting and steadying you. 

Yuuta takes longer than he should to come into the focus of your eyes, and when he does you find his face buried in one of his hands while his other adjusts his pants. 

“Are you okay?” He sounds breathless, making no move to touch you or help. Something is seriously up. 

“Mhm. I don’t know why I just…” You pause, almost forgetting what you’re even saying while your thoughts navigate a new fog. Suddenly you’re warm. “I dunno what came over me.” 

Yuuta only scoots a bit farther away in response, dragging himself along the wall. To you it’s almost like he’s moving in slow motion. 

“Nii-san, something is wrong. I feel wrong.”  

Yuuta’s breaths come in huffs when you drag yourself to him then, nuzzling your way between his bent legs.

“M-me too… that’s why I want you to go.”

You shake your head, staring at Yuuta while he stares back, squirming and uncomfortable under your gaze. The warmth inside you is starting to grow uncomfortable—almost painful between your legs. You wonder if this is exactly how Yuuta’s feeling before you consider the possibility that he may be even worse, having been infected with whatever strange illness this is before he even arrived. He’s really working to hold out on you—what a gentleman.  

In fact, you think, that might be the perfect word to describe your sweet big brother. Always looking out for you more than anyone else, Yuuta sets a bar for chivalry unattainable by any man who isn’t him. 

He’s always opening your doors and offering you rides. Holding your hand to cross the street, tugging you back if you try to cross without looking and, occasionally, shoving your tangled fingers in his coat pocket if it’s chilly. He always has this protective nature when other men are involved, glaring at wandering eyes and warning you of potential danger (you recall one time he tripped some guy who asked for your number as he was walking away—he was too old for you and clearly had bad intentions).

Then there’s the way he’s thoughtful. Even when you were kids, Yuuta was always getting you gifts, setting time aside from his busy schedule to play with you or take you somewhere—forging some of your favorite memories growing up. You think particularly fondly of all your old dance recitals—how yuuta would always make time to be there and give you flowers and praise (out of all the bouquets your family supplied, his were the only ones that ever earned a spot on your night stand). 

Even now you’ve got a vase of pink roses in your bedroom down the hall for passing your latest algebra test. 

Yeah, Yuuta’s a chivalrous brother to a tee. 

And the heat in your veins has you wishing he’d be anything but. 

“Y-yuuta. I need you.” Your hands reach to pull at the open buttons of his uniform, but your wrists are quickly shackled by strong hands, gentle but unyielding. 

“Do you know what you’re asking?” His voice is steady for the first time since appearing in his room, albeit a little pained. 

“Yes. Yeah I do.” 

You scoot closer, and Yuuta’s entire aura seems to change, darkening in a way that leaves goosebumps crawling across your flesh. 

Your wrists are freed but you still feel immobilized as Yuuta grabs you carefully by the neck then, tugging your face to his till his lips can capture yours for the very first time. 

You can’t deny that you’ve fantasized about kissing Yuuta, if only on the rare occasions that you loosened the reins on your self control. The kiss feels as electric and all-consuming as you’d hoped, hungry like you’re trying to swallow each other whole. His lips are a bit chapped, rougher than yours and hot in a way you’ll surely imprint into your psyche. What surprises you, though, is Yuuta’s brashness; he’s not reserved like you used to imagine he’d be if he kissed you. He’s being selfish, sucking on your lips and licking inside your mouth like you’re his—and when his teeth sink into the plump of your bottom lip you start to realize that maybe you always have been. 

Yuuta’s kiss is needy and passionate, but it clearly doesn’t sate him as rough palms travel over your body throughout, kneading your sides and your arms and your thighs till you're rearranged on top of him, straddling where he needs you most. 

You’re instinctually grinding down on him once you are, your insides painfully empty and sensitive so that the hard feeling of him through his pant fabric pressing against your clit is the most satisfying feeling you’ve ever had. He’s quickly grabbing at your hips to help push your core against him, and that angle of pressure paired with his attentive mouth against yours has you cumming in minutes, crying out into his mouth while he grips you harshly like a ragdoll, eventually mouthing at your jaw and throat so you can breathe again. It’s the kind of orgasm that has your senses short-circuiting, your vision going in and out of focus while your hearing turns fuzzy—it’s intense and euphoric. You feel drugged.

It’s unnatural how you’re instantly needy again once you come down, panting and light-headed but impatient when you scoot back to reach for his belt. Yuuta’s hand stops yours.

“Hang on—”  

“Please! Nii-san, I can’t wait, I need you—” 

“I know, let me—“ he interrupts himself to peck your lips again. You want him to never stop doing that—the satisfaction is addicting. “Let me give you head first.”

Those words knock the wind from your lungs. Because now is the first time you truly reckon with a truth you’ve been avoiding… Yuuta is experienced. You don’t know who or when (as far as you’re aware he’s never had a steady girlfriend) but the way he says those words makes it clear. Yuuta has made a woman cum. The idea brings a wave of jealousy you usually keep carefully buried—it’s an unspoken rule yuuta doesn’t mention his romantic affairs, so the reality of his sex life is something you’ve avoided. 

“I’m a virgin.” The words bubble out of you uncontrollably. Yuuta chuckles just a little before giving another quick kiss. 

“I know. That’s why I’m gonna go down on you.”

The effects of whatever aphrodisiac you’ve been exposed to clearly haven’t waned as Yuuta manhandles you into a position of his liking before he finishes his sentence—neither of you have gained the common sense necessary to move yourselves off the floor to Yuuta’s bed a yard away. Yuuta’s still the most aggressive you’ve ever felt him as he lays you down, trailing kisses and occasional bites down your skin till he makes his way to his own boxers that rest over your hips. You catch a little glare when he spots them, a week ago he told you to stop borrowing these—you’re my little sister! It’s not appropriate. 

How ironic, he doesn’t chastise you as he yanks those very same boxers down his little sister’s legs. Then he tosses them aside—not even commenting on how you got them all messy—and instantly sets to work, lapping at your pussy like a man starved.

It isn’t an experience to be taken lightly—the first lick of your brother's tongue has you moaning like a pornstar. You have to grip the roots of Yuuta’s soft hair for stability as his mouth sends electricity through your body, pleasure radiating from your cunt all throughout you till you’re not sure you know what to do with it all. Once he latches to your clit, sucking it like a pacifier while his pretty lashes blink closed in content, you can’t help but come undone again—your orgasm intense and lasting even longer than the last time—this feeling is addicting. 

Yuuta licks up as much of your release as he can when you do, then he’s quickly rising up, wiping his face with an arm before tugging off his shirt. 

You feel like the luckiest sister in the universe when you finally come back to earth to watch him, his sculpted body glistening in sweat as he reveals more and more skin—all for you. 

Yuuta’s pants are tugged off next, but not all the way. He gets impatient once they’re low enough for his cock to be freed, stroking it shamelessly, coating it in the mess he made from cumming in his pants. 

Your eyes go wide when you see his size. 

“S-sorry I know t’s a lot. Are you doing okay?” 

There’s a silent but in there, an unspoken i still need more.

You nod quickly, spreading your bent legs so he has full access—it’s true that you’ve cum hard enough twice to pass out for days, but your body is insatiable. Yuuta’s cock is what it truly wants; you won’t—can’t—rest till you get it.

Yuuta’s wasting no time—clearly as needy for you as you are for him. He’s already leaning over you, running his tip through your folds before you can find the desperate words to reply, “Need you inside me, Yuu.” 

That’s as much confirmation as Yuuta needs before he thrusts, stretching your virgin hole till it molds to fit him. There’s a pinch, a sting that pricks tears in your eyes as you accommodate his thick girth, but it’s replaced by the pure relief of him in a matter of seconds. You whine when he bottoms out, your body clenching and grinding towards him of its own volition—again, you’re insatiable. Luckily Yuuta seems to be on the same page as he quickly pulls almost completely out of you, earning a louder whine before slamming back in, hitting a deep, warm spot that has your vision blurring. 

It’s ruthless and mean the way he starts beating your cunt then—you can’t help but contrast it to the way Yuuta rocked you in his lap just a night ago to soothe you through a scary thunderstorm. This man, the one snapping his hips against your hole with bruising force and no breaks, is a different man completely.

You want to meet him halfway, to contribute to creating the absolute bliss that his cock quickly brings you, but your body can hardly keep up once Yuuta gets going. He’s so fast and strong, the most you can do is lay there and take it, clawing at his shoulders and back in a way that matches his animalistic energy. 

Maybe a minute is all it takes before your body comes undone around Yuuta’s cock. Almost too eagerly and certainly the fastest you’ve ever cum before—it would be embarrassing if it weren’t for Yuuta’s loud, wanton moan at the feel of it. 

“F-fuck your pussy’s too tight! Why does it feel so—ngh good—“ Yuuta fills you up for the first time then, flooding your insides with his creamy seed before you even finish twitching from your own release. The heat of your big brother’s cum in your tummy is irreplaceable—you fall in love with the feeling and don’t want it ever to leave. 

Luckily Yuuta’s not done, he’s still hard even after he pumps you full, and his movements don’t relent, in fact it almost feels like he’s fucking you deeper. 

“Y-yuuta it’s so much…” you manage to say through the stuffed sensation that reaches your throat.

You’re still crazy with want, you feel like you’d die if he stopped, and yet your mysterious sex-craze does nothing to counteract the overstimulation. 

“‘M sorry, ‘m really sorry I can’t stop,” Yuuta pries your weak legs up while he talks, folding you up in a mating press. You don’t have the words to reassure him that it’s fine, that you need this, because then you’re coming undone again, throbbing wildly on Yuuta’s cock while your eyes roll back in your head. Yuuta cums with you shortly after, and something in you rejoices that he’s filling you with more of himself—that he’s irreversibly spilling into your most intimate parts. 

He pulls out after that, and your legs go limp—all of you lifeless except your twitching, leaking cunt. It’s a good thing Yuuta’s still needy though, because even if your legs lack the strength to hold him, your insides are devastated by the lack of him—it’s wrong that he’s not still inside you.

“Yuuta—“ you start to protest before he’s manhandling you, dragging you till you’re half draped across his bed, shoving your school books and pencils out of the way. It’s like you’re partially standing, bent forward with your tummy against the mattress, but you let your legs dangle limply while you lay, unable to hold yourself. 

“I know pretty,” he replies, spreading your messy thighs and cunt before shoving himself back inside you, “can’t be done.” 

The sound his cock makes is obscene as it spreads you open again, paired with the whine you let out at the sensitive feeling mixed with relief. The new angle yuuta reaches makes you feel stuffed all the way to your chest. 

Yuuta doesn’t waste time before he’s pumping into you as relentlessly as before, pulling easy orgasms from you again and again till your hips are bruised from his hands and his comforter is soaked with your tears and snot and cum. 

Yuuta’s crying too by the time he cums a final time, gasping and whining while he fills you with what feels like his entire remaining life force, eventually using the last of his energy to pull out with a wince and collapse on the bed, pulling you up so you’re all the way on the bed next to him. You both lose consciousness finally. 

When Yuuta wakes he’s under unusual covers, and finds his vision illuminated by a pink night light—it takes him a minute to recognize that he’s in your room. 

But he’s still naked. He sits up with a gasp, reaching for you as the events of evening come flooding back to him, but you’re nowhere to be found—he realizes you must have coaxed him in here for some reason then left. The clock beside him reads five in the morning, but considering how early the two of you passed out the night before, it’s not surprising you’d clearly already woken. 

Yuuta sips from a cup of water on your nightstand, then finds a used bath towel you’ve got hooked on your door and wraps it around his hips, venturing dizzily out into the apartment. 

He hears the laundry machine going, and passes his room to find his bed stripped of sheets, the mess from your school supplies cleaned up.

Then he finds you in the kitchen with wet hair, clean clothes and an apron, flipping pancakes. 

You look delighted when you see him—more than usual—with a sweet smile and giant pupils. 

“Yuuta! Made you breakfast.” You say making your way to him. 

Not that Yuuta’s had much time to think on it, (he wasn’t worrying over his future when your tight pussy was milking his drugged senses yesterday, that’s for sure), but in the back of his mind, he was sure that fucking you would have irreparable effects on your relationship. You’d always love each other, of that much he was certain—you had a mutual trust in that department for sure. But he was also sure things would be awkward, maybe you’d need space at first and wouldn’t look at him the same. 

But then you hop your way over to him once he walks into the kitchen, rubbing hands up his bare chest before locking your arms behind his neck, reaching up on tiptoes to kiss his lips. And it’s not just a peck, either. And the curse’s aphrodisiacs have worn off. 

And maybe, the irreparable effects from last night aren’t going to be so awkward after all. 

#yuuta x reader #jjk x reader #yuuta smut #jjk smut #yuta x reader #yuta x y/n #🐞 writes #tw.incest #tw.sex pollen #tw.drugged sex #🐞 q

[konigsblog]

please im very interested in human könig kidnapping eldritch reader im on my knees 🙏

eldritch-reader and human-könig thots™️... 🐙

tw: monster fucking, non-con/dub-con, manipulation, tentacles, eldricth hybrid, kidnapping, pregnancy. 18+

human-könig doesn't know exactly what to do with you. again, he's never seen such a beauty like you, he's inexperienced and doesn't know how to handle you.

könig finds you sobbing often, your tentacles wrapped around your body in an attempt to conceal and hide yourself from him. you miss the warm sea you were familiar with, the water against your skin and your thick, slimy tentacles. könig's perverse gaze on you leaves you unable to stop weeping, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

könig is intrigued by your quietness, as well as your feistiness. once he gets too close, you let out a sharp hiss as a response, terrified of him and mortified for his next move.

although, könig has other plans that don't include freeing you. he wants to see what you feel like, deep inside your gummy, slick walls. he has to restrain and keep you bound with chains and locks as he begins to move downwards. your tentacles roam around, your attempts at grabbing a hold of him fruitless, as you miss each time. the feeling of könig's bulbous cock against your folds drives your little head insane...

you can barely comprehend what's going on, let alone the sensation of tightening at your core and dampening your cunny. your breathing is heavy and fast as he begins pushing you inside, talking about breeding you, becoming your mating partner. your piteous cries and pained hisses drive him utterly insane and encourage him to go harder and harsher, and within seconds, you're cumming down his base with a confused, fucked-out expression plastered on your stupid face.

his thrusts are agonizing, yet you've become addicted so quickly, a little experiment for him to use and abuse, unable to stop chanting for more and more... he'll make sure to spurt his hot load deep inside your soft walls, painting your cunt white with his fluids, silencing you with a hoarse growl.

perhaps, könig underestimated how easy it would be, how fertile you were. the sight of your stomach swelling looked painful, although könig's perverted gaze was satisfied and curious, watching you squirm and sob pathetically as you'd fallen as his captive, his large and gloved hands wandering over your growing stomach. ;(

#orla speaks #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #monster fucker #monster fucking #tentacles #eldritch reader #eldrich horror #tw kidnapping #dead dove do not eat #tw: dark content #könig x reader #könig x y/n #konig x you #konig x reader #könig mw2 #könig mwii #könig modern warfare #könig cod #könig call of duty #konig cod #konig call of duty

[notjoelmiller]

i cared

MDNI simon "ghost" riley x f!reader summary: three and a half years ago and an ocean away, he tore you apart. now he's turned up at your door. wordcount: 4.1k warnings: smut (fingering), drinking, AFAB reader, possible past dub-con (reader was in a bad mental state and simon knew), simon is a shitty guy in this, talk of hypothetical suicide, talk of past bad mental state (depression), mentioned PTSD, heartbreak on both sides, death mention (MW:III canon) a/n: hey remember when i said that my next fic would be joel and i posted a little insert. that was a lie! instead of working on that (12k word, currently) monster, i wrote something else. if you couldn't tell, i started this before the holidays and then forgot about it.

ao3

The house is much nicer than Simon anticipated. When he saw the New York City address, he had expected you to be crammed into a shitty 6th-floor walk-up. But no, not you. Instead, you have an honest-to-God three-story home with red brick delicately dusted with snow. You certainly couldn’t afford it on the 141 salary. He always suspected you came from means. This just confirms it. It just makes him wonder why the hell you decided to slum it in the services for so long.

It reminds Simon that he shouldn’t be there. You weren't made for that life and left for a reason. Who is he to ruin your peace?

He’s not alone on the street. Well-to-do families of strangers pass by, all watching the masked man observe their neighbor’s home. He can still turn around and leave you to the life you so clearly want.

Something shifts in one of the windows, the curtain being tousled by something. A dog. You got a dog– a golden retriever with sharp eyes and, evidently, an even sharper bark. The canine goes berserk, barking and howling and growling at Simon through the window. It’s Simon’s cue to leave, to leave you be with your semi-rabid, semi-domestic canine.

But before he can move, the curtain shifts again– pulled this time –and you’re there. You squint for a moment, surely wondering what masked freak is standing in your walkway like he owns the damn place. He lets you scrutinize him. It’s now or never. Either you’ll tell him to fuck off once you realize who he is or you’ll call the police on him, though it’s not like they would do anything after he calls Kate.

Instead, you disappear behind the curtain, your loyal steed of a dog following hot on your heels. In a moment’s notice, the large front door, with a gilded knocker and door knob open. You beckon him in. He follows, eyes trailing up and down your body once you’re facing away from him. You’re dressed casually but smartly in a short denim skirt and cashmere sweater. Simon’s never seen you in that getup before, even when going out to the pub.

“Shoes off,” you order, motioning towards the neat shoe rack next to the door. They’re all women's shoes of the same size. Simon’s shoulders relax, and he slips off his boots. It was for the best, he figures. His old boots would have just dragged dirt into your space. He takes off his mask too, hanging it up with his jacket. It’s nothing you haven't seen before.

Simon follows you into the sitting room– at least, that’s what Simon guesses the room is. It’s too neat for your taste, or his memory of what your taste is exactly. The couch and single chair seem untouched, the air still, like Simon’s presence is cutting through some sacred stillness.

You point to a couch and Simon obeys, sitting with his hands on his knees. Your eyes lock with his without granting him any semblance of your thoughts. Simon keeps his gaze soft, neutral. You can scrutinize him all you need.

You sigh, straightening your posture. A smile pulls at your lips. Your smile lines crease deeper than he remembered. Or maybe they always creased that deep.

“Tea?”

***

“He’s quite protective,” you drop two sugar cubes into a cup of tea. The spoon in your hand lets out a delicate tink as it hits the porcelain cup. You hand Simon the teacup, it’s just how he likes it. “Always has his haunches raised, even when he’s not working.”

Ah. A service animal. He’s surprised to not have put that together sooner. Always loyal, the pooch plants himself at your feet, gaze burning into Simon. If looks could kill…

“Your home?” Simon asks. He lifts the teacup to his lips and sips. Simon places the teacup on its saucer impossibly slowly. Simon can’t believe you’d trust him with something so delicate.

“I inherited it.”

A smile creeps on Simon’s face. Teacups and generational wealth. He always knew you were posh. Or whatever Americans call posh.

“You’re on holiday?” You ask.

“‘Tis the season.”

You hum. Your house is the only one on the block without some sort of holiday decor. Simon wonders if it was a pointed decision.

“And you came here.” Why?

He can’t tell you the truth. The fact is that every day since you left– all one thousand two hundred ninety-eight of them since John uttered to his fuming lieutenant that you just weren’t fit to serve any more –he’s ached. One thousand two hundred ninety-eight days of no contact. Of his only proof that you ever existed being a photo and a tear-stained note with one sentence scribbled in ink: John has contact info– emergencies only.

“I wanted to wish you a happy holidays.”

You laugh dryly, though it sends a pang of pain through Simon. He hadn’t realized how much he missed that sound. “Usually people send a card for that.”

You observe Simon with precision, like you never left the force, though the way you scratch Yogi’s belly unconsciously betrays the hardened exterior. It’s a glimpse into the last three and a half years. Of the woman you’ve become– so foreign to Simon. Foreign to your past self. Or not. Maybe this is who you’ve been all along, just hidden behind fatigues. Maybe the woman Simon thought he knew was just a farce. Rich girl playing army for a few years.

Maybe you joined the force just to fuck around for a bit. After a few years, you’d have stories to tell your socialite friends back home. Except, you didn’t get what you wanted, didn’t you? Simon knows well and good that serving, the 141, and him, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, destroyed something in you. 

You tap the porcelain of your teacup. It makes a pleasant ding. “Did John tell you where to find me?”

“No. Well–” Simon tries to tell you the truth without throwing his comrade under the bus. The truth was, John had indulged in one too many drinks at the pub one night and hadn’t locked his quarters. An envelope addressed to you sat front in center on his desk. “Not intentionally.”

It’s a satisfying enough answer. Only a small twinge of annoyance crosses your face before you hum. “This isn’t a guilt thing, right Simon?” You ask, “I didn’t do what I did because of what happened.”

“What we did back then, on the field,” Simon traps you under his gaze. His stare is aggressive, but he hopes it conveys the intense feelings he’s struggling with. “I can’t just leave it. That’s why I came.”

Simon doesn’t dare speak. He doesn’t dare breathe while he watches you process his words. It’s a load of crap, he knows it, and he knows you know it. It’s just a matter of whether or not you want to kick him out.

You smize, teeth coming out to tug at your bottom lip. “Have you ever had New York pizza?”

***

You order two pies, hushing Simon when he insists it’s too much. You were right. Two isn’t enough. Simon scarfs down one pie without coming up for air. It’s delicious. It isn’t until he’s four slices deep that he realizes that you, smiling widely at him, haven’t yet picked up your first.

You’re a gracious host– a natural, really. You perch yourself on the kitchen island, legs crossed in a way that makes your skirt ride so sinfully up your thighs. Simon doesn’t look of course, he’s a gentleman. At least, he is for the first bottle of the ungodly expensive red wine you procure. It’s then that you perch your leg on the counter opposite your spot on the island, right next to Simon. Old habits die hard– especially when inebriated –and Simon places a hand on your leg, massaging the skin of your ankle.

You pay no mind to Simon’s ministrations, though, lost in the domestic bliss and mindless conversations you’ve probably been drowning yourself in for the last few years. You wave the glass of wine wildly about, like you wouldn’t give a damn if it spilled all over your expensive clothes. It seems so natural for you. Simon wonders what you were ever doing with the 141 when posh city living fits you like a second skin.

Simon inches his hand higher up your leg as you speak. He doesn’t get very far, but it’s enough so that he can trace patterns into the soft skin of your thigh. It’s too much, though, because your eyes lock onto his. But you’re not mad. You don’t tell him to stop. Rather, you examine him, and in your eyes Simon sees what looks like mirth.

“I missed this,” Simon says. He cringes at the words leaving his mouth. He’s succumbing to the domestic bliss you’ve created, looking at the past through rose-tinted glasses.

You reach for a third bottle of wine and a corkscrew, furrowing your brow in thought while twisting the screw. “I didn't want to abandon you,” you say. Simon, watching you pop the cork off with ease, almost forgets that you’re talking to him until you lock eyes. He watches you sniff the cork, pause, then sniff it again before topping off your glass. You take a heaping swig, like that Pinot Noir worth more than Simon’s monthly pay is unremarkable. “I left for a reason, you know.”

Oh, Simon certainly knows. The rumors had been inescapable in the first weeks of your absence. All around base every soldier had entertained the question of what happened to the American chick in the 141. Simon had only so many threatening looks to give privates before curiosity got the better of him. He abated the desire to ask John for so long, but there was only so much longing he could handle coupled with the cacophony of voices asking the same thing he desperately wanted to know.

John didn’t flounder when Simon finally came to him, demanding to know why you left.

She was discharged.

Why?

For… mental reasons.

Simon lost his shit in Price’s office that morning. He collapsed onto the couch with a gasp, a hand grasping and squeezing his heart. His breath left him, but Simon was too bloody stupid to understand what the hell was going on until Price was handing him a brown paper bag.

Breathe, son.

“Simon,” you breathe, your saccharine voice the most tantalizing sound Simon has ever heard. You lean forward, your finger tracing the scar parallel to the cut of his jaw. You were there for it, saw the knife slice through his mask and the skin underneath. You bandaged it in the helicopter after, making Simon promise to go to medical afterwards. He promised he would. That night he closed the wound with superglue. “Why did you really come?”

Because you disappeared. Because Price said you were on the brink of becoming a statistic. Because I fucked up. Because I said things I didn’t mean and I thought that it killed you.

“Johnny’s dead,” he lies. But it isn’t a lie. It’s true, sure, Johnny’s been reduced to ashes and scattered in the Scottish highlands. But that isn't why he came.

“I know.” You sniffle. Christ, Simon’s made you cry. Nausea washes over him. A voice in his head screams, fix it, idiot! But emotions were never Simon’s strong suit. Instead, Simon reaches for the bottle and tops off your glass of wine, probably a bit more than he should have, but it seems like you need it.

You mutter a thank you and down a bit more than half of the glass. You come up for air and hiccup. “John told me.”

“Price?” He asks, as though there was any other John. Anything to get you talking rather than crying.

You nod. “He dropped by around Thanksgiving. Asked if I wanted to be there when you all…” You wave your hand in the air, “You know.”

Something ugly festers in his chest. Maybe if he actually went to a therapist, Simon could recognize what it is.

“You said no?” He asks.

“I didn’t think I could.”

Simon nods, holding your gaze in a way that he hopes conveys his sense of understanding.

“How’d it happen?” You croak. Your eyes are glassy, a reminder of the ever-looming threat that you could fall apart again. Simon reminds himself that you wouldn’t be crying if he had just kept his distance.

“Bullet in the head.”

You tense, your head flying to Simon. Your eyes are frantic, searching for something in his face. “He…he…?”

Christ. 

“No, no,” Simon scrambles to get his next words out, “Makarov. It was-” His voice cracks. Unusual. “-was too fast to stop it. To save himself.”

You hum, slumping down like it’s comforting to you that Johnny had his life torn from his arms. Like it’s comforting that Johnny couldn’t go on his own terms, but on the terms of a Russian terrorist.

“You know,” you say like you know he knows, “Johnny’s the reason I got out.”

Simon shifts. Johnny never talked about your discharge, always responding to speculation like he was none the wiser. “He is?”

“Yeah,” you laugh. It’s deep and watery. “Things were…bad one night. He found me. Talked me through the night. Listened to me.” You throw your head back, eyes tracing imaginary patterns on the ceiling.

“He told Price?”

You nod.

“That was after we…”

You nod again. Simon feels sick.

“It had nothing to do with you, Simon.”

“I never thought it did.”

“Then why,” you ask, “did you bring it up?”

Simon shifts. “Thought it was relevant.”

You smile, though your eyes are still lined with tears. “Guilty conscience?”

“Of course not, love,” Simon laughs, hoping you buy it. It works, he thinks. You seem to deflate, slumping a bit. You take some time to think. Simon, panicking at the thought that your self-reflection could send him out the door, pulls out the one trick he has over you.

He lets your legs fall. They bang against the cabinets with a soft umph from your lips. Simon slides off of the counter and stalks your way. You watch him and put up no fight as he slots his wide body between your knees. You don't even complain as the parting of your legs forces your skirt to ride even higher.

Fingers card through Simon’s hair. He hums.

“Why did you do it?” You ask.

Simon tilts his head, and with the wine in his veins and your hand in his hair, the world spins. Your other hand slips under the hem of Simon’s shirt. Warm fingers graze the skin of his stomach and then side, before your hand settles on his back, palm splaying across scarred flesh.

“I–” Simon croaks, “–I felt something for you.”

You snort. Simon’s chest burns and he takes some deep breaths to calm himself. He imagines Price’s paper bag, inflating and crinkling over and over.

“You knew I would leave. That’s it, isn’t it?” You accuse with a gleam in your eyes. “I was in a bad place and was leaving so it didn’t matter if you hit it and quit it.” You laugh. “You got what you wanted without risking your position.”

“That’s not true.”

Your thighs bracket his legs, trapping him against you. Your words curl around your wine-stained tongue. “‘I don’t love you’. Isn’t that what you said Simon?”

“Love–”

You tense, thighs squeezing him like a vice. “Love,” you coo, the imitation of Simon’s long vowels curtles unnaturally on your tongue. “Love, love, love. You know Simon,” you wrap your hands around the back of his neck and lean into the crook of his neck. Your lips brush against his skin as you speak, “You say it, but you’ve never meant it.”

“I’m sorry,” Simon utters, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your skirt.

“You’re not.”

He’s not. He doesn’t argue. He could– should, rather –but he can’t think straight with you this close to him. The scent of your perfume itches the deepest part of his brain. You never wore perfume when on duty, rather, always coated in the aroma of base-issued shampoo and sweat.

“I really cared for you, you know,” you whisper, your lips millimeters from his, them parting when his fingers rub you through the fabric of your underwear.

“I know,” Simon closes the distance, capturing your lips with his.

He pushes you back onto the counter, you let him, lets Simon cage your body like he has the right to. You groan into his mouth when he traps your bottom lip between his teeth and melt when his fingers slip past the hem of your panties, his fingers plunging through the wetness into your cunt.

It’s obscene— the noises you make as he thrusts his fingers into you. With his free hand, Simon pushes your skirt up over your hips so he can watch your cunt squeeze around him.

He slides his thumb up to your clit and you gasp. “Simon,” you moan. He nearly stops. It’s been years since he’s heard you say his name, let alone moan it. Fuck, Simon can’t help but grind his cock against the island counter, groaning.

It doesn’t take much to work you into an orgasm. Before he knows it, your moans become softer, higher pitched, and you’re coming apart, clenching hard on Simon’s fingers.

He works you through your orgasm, whispering praise into your ears. Simon gives you no time before pouncing, fisting his hands in your hair and devouring you. You wiggle underneath his weight, uttering something, but the words are lost into Simon’s mouth. He pulls away, his eyes meeting your expectant ones.

“What?”

“Upstairs,” you say, chest heaving. “My room is upstairs.”

***

Simon wakes before dawn. He’s lying on top of you, your strong breath rocking him up and down. Your limbs are impossibly tangled. He’s reminded of an identical morning, years ago, of what he did then, and what that choice led him to. But that was years ago. You were different then, broken. How was he supposed to know that his choice would make you shatter?

He untangles himself slowly. It feels like the process takes hours, though the sun fails to make an appearance by the time he slips out of bed. The clock reads four in the morning. That explains it. It also explains the way the room around him is spinning slightly. He’s still drunk– or at least buzzed –from the night before.

His pants are an easy find, discarded by the door. His shirt though… Simon spins around the room, eyes glazing over the space. He tries not to take anything in too deeply, too personal for this morning.

He spots his shirt on your vanity. Simon yanks it off, but something hard and heavy comes with it. It nearly drops to the floor, but Simon catches it before it can hit and wake you up.

It’s a perfume bottle, heavy and half-filled. Simon can’t suppress the urge of his half-drunk brain to sniff it. The scent— the scent of you —explodes in his synapses. He tosses a glance over his shoulder, ensuring you’re still asleep, before pocketing the bottle.

The dog follows Simon as he walks through the house. Luckily, as he slips on his shoes, the dog disappears into the rest of the house.

Simon lingers with a hand wrapped around the door knob. It warms under his touch.

“Are we doing this again?”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, “I ‘ave to.” Simon stays facing the door, though he doesn’t make a move to turn around. He knows how he must look to you, too cowardly to face you. He’s reminded of the last time he spent the night with you. He got out scot-free. What would have happened if you found him then? Simon can’t say for certain whether or not he would have left then, if you called out for him in the same delicate voice.

“Stay.”

“What?”

“In New York,” you say, voice dry with sleep. “With me. Get out of the SAS, the 141, all that bullshit.”

“‘S not that easy.”

“It is. I left. You can leave. Or you can stay and end up like Johnny–”

“What do you know about Johnny,’ Simon growls, turning on his heels. He straightens his spine, puffing his chest up like you’re a threat. Your dog buys it, growling and worming himself between you and Simon. You don't take the bait though. You honest to God laugh in Simon’s face.

“I know enough.” You step closer to Simon. The pooch gets the memo, clearing the way for you. Simon almost does the same, he wants to. Some instinctual part of his brain needs to cave to you. “You mean something, Simon,” you flick your eyebrows up, letting them drop immediately. It feels like a challenge, like you were asking Simon the silent question. Do you matter? 

“You’re more than a soldier– more than a body on a field, waiting to drop.” There are tears in your eyes. You don't let them fall. Simon hopes you’ve finally realized that he isn’t worth your heartbreak. He’s never been, but at least your realization would stop his cruel cycle of him chewing you up and spitting you right back out.

“Come to New York, Simon, please. There– there’s a butcher shop up the block, they’re always looking for help. You said you used to do that stuff, right?”

Fucking hell. He had said it to you, years ago after a mission. Simon went drink for drink with Johnny and Gaz and got positively wasted. It was the night he first set his sight on you, when your tenderness sunk its claws into his heart and refused to let go. You didn’t know then what it would lead to. Simon did. Every love Simon had wilted in his claws. Why would you be different?

“Come here,” you plead, “Take the job with them. I can help you find an apartment or you can live with me but–” You grab Simon’s shoulders, tugging. It isn’t strong enough to turn him around, but he does. Your cheeks are wet and eyes glassy as you stare up at him. “Simon, it’s too late for us, but don’t let it be too late for you.”

Simon lifts his hand to your cheek, fingers grazing the plump skin. It slides to the back of your head and tugs– yanks you into his embrace as he crashes your lips against his own. The morning makes you soft though, as Simon nips your lips with his teeth, you melt, softening and slowing your movements.

It’s you that pulls away first, staring at Simon. You let him swipe his finger across your cheek, caressing you.

“Please,” you beg, kissing the palm of his hand.

Simon lets his hand fall from you. It sits achingly cold at his side.

It would be cowardly to leave you without a goodbye after forcing himself back into your life, even if it was for one night. Simon considers himself to be many things, but never a coward. Yet, standing in front of you, staring into your expectant eyes, words don’t come easy.

You step towards him. Simon steps back. The door knob presses into his back. His heart is pounding, the blood in his eyes deafening him. Your scent wafts his way, your perfume. The one whose bottle he knocked over, nearly let slip through his fingers and shatter. The one which you never got to wear in the 141. The one weighing down his back pocket.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Simon says.

He doesn’t look back. Not when you gasp his name. Not when he opens the door. Not when he walks down the snowy street.

Price and Gaz will ask about his holiday. They’re kind like that. In the cab to the airport, passing the bottle of perfume between his hands, Simon considers his answer. Single word answers are his forté, but won’t suffice with the prying curiosities of his captain and sergeant.

The answer comes to him when he sniffs the perfume once more.

In the coming week, when Gaz claps him on the back, he will ask, “How was the holiday, Ghost?”

Simon will answer, “I had a meal with an old friend.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #cod fanfic #ghost x female reader

[star-girl69]

Because Of You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

synopsis: years after your rite of passage, the boy who’s heart you broke just won’t leave you alone. clarisse, your girlfriend, quickly decides she’s not a fan.

a/n: should i stop procrastinating and then forcing myself to write shitty fics quickly? probably. but not today!! this is kinda just like an au of dont delete the kisses but… you guessed it… IDC!!!!!!!! from this ask

thank you all so much for patiently waiting i love y’all soooooo muuccchhhhhh 🫶🫶💋 as i mentioned on my acc i have the next week off from school, pls expect more content then!!

Because Of You - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, this sucks so bad y’all sorry lolllll, y/n is a year round camper!, starts out very background heavy but i really don’t care 😭, creepy men UGH, ugly bitches not being able to let shit go, im gonna say sexual harassment just incase, swearing, usual demigod stuff y’all know what you’re getting into, jealous!clarisse YESSS, possessive!clarisse ik i screamed!!, protective!clarisse too, slightly graphic makeout scene, i think that’s all, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

When you were young, you were thrilled by the thought of love.

The idea of belonging not only with someone- bodies fitting together like puzzles pieces- but belonging to someone- wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

Later, your half-siblings would describe mostly similar experiences to yours- an overwhelming desire to be loved, wanted, needed. Ever since you ran into camp with a monster hot on your heels and satyr shouting encouragement next to you- everyone’s stared at you. They poke and prod, they act like they’ve never seen a daughter of Aphrodite before.

It’s annoying, but it makes you feel good- but not quite.

Until Alek came along.

You were both 13, you still believed in soulmates, and you wanted nothing more than to be with each other for the rest of your lives.

You were 13, and he felt like the only one for you.

And when you had to break up with him to fulfill your rite of passage- it felt like the world was ending. You cried for days and begged your sister Phoebe to say it wasn’t a true, it was just a mean, mean prank.

But she couldn’t tell you that, and there were more types of love that romantic.

While you longed to hold someone, to be held- you also craved your mother’s approval like you were starving. You wanted her love, you wanted her to visit you in your dreams, you wanted gifts from her, you wanted everything and anything she could give you.

So, it hurt like you had never known hurt before, but you did it. Alek seemed entirely indifferent to it, almost ignoring you and pretending you hadn’t said it- but you felt a warmness around you, a dove flew between trees, you knew your mother was there and she approved.

Breaking up with Alek felt like the sun had exploded on top of you.

Being with Clarisse felt like the sun was wrapped around you.

—-

After Alek’s initial denial, he went through all the other stages of grief, mourned your relationship like you did, and you came out on the other side with a one-sided agreement to forget it ever happened.

Alek got stuck. Or went back. He started to believe that you were still meant to be, that much you could tell.

Until that day at the training fields when your hand slipped at archery and you almost shot Clarisse in the head- and she had glared at you so harshly while you ran over and examined her head, gushing out apologies and fretting over her.

She pushed you away, hand lingering for a second, eyes softening before she quickly looked away.

“Just… be more careful,” she had said, almost like a question, like she wasn’t sure the words were coming out of her mouth.

And, Gods, were you terrified it was all some secret plan. Make you think it was alright only to corner you in the woods and probably kill you, or something.

And when she asked the next day to teach you how to shoot a bow, you agreed with tears in your eyes, knowing of her reputation, and it took a lot of trust and a lot of swapped secrets for her to prove to you it wasn’t all some elaborate plan.

But even if her plan was to kill you the entire time, you fell in love over her fixing your stance, hands brushing as you accidentally grabbed the same arrow, stolen looks across the pavilion.

It wasn’t until a random kid bumped into you, making you fall and twist your ankle. Clarisse had this look in her eyes that was so genuine, so full of love and care for you, softly caressing your leg after she had punched the other kid in the face.

And you realize as she said you were doing great, limping while she helped you to the infirmary, that this was something.

And as much as you hated the violence being committed over you, it was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and the warmth in your chest was all you had ever wanted. This was what it was like to belong with someone, to someone, with her, to her.

This was what it was like to be admired. Loved. Wanted. Needed.

And when she softly told you goodbye, you had kissed the corner of her lips and thanked her- turning to walk into your cabin, ankle already feeling better thanks to the ambrosia.

She grabbed you by the wrist and turned you around, pulling you against her tightly and kissing you so harshly like she had just found the secret to the world in her lips on yours, her hands on your hips.

And when she finally pulled away, embarrassing strings of spit connecting your lips, she said she was sorry. Probably the first time she had ever said that to someone, and you smiled.

“Sorry. It’s just… once your lips were on mine, I don’t think I can ever stop. I don’t wanna stop.”

And she kissed you again and it was all you ever wanted out of this life- to love and be loved, to hold and to be held, and it was all because of her.

—-

The welcome back campfire is your favorite time of year.

It’s when the camp comes alive, when the Gods themselves seem to return to this place- even Mr. D is a bit more lively with all the pure infectious energy running through the first few days of camp. Everyone’s getting settled, classes haven’t started quite yet, and the year round campers get a much needed break.

As much as you and Clarisse wanted to keep things private, when she punches someone in the middle of the pavilion for accidentally bumping into you, it’s not hard to figure out Clarisse cares for you more than she does anyone else.

And after one of your younger siblings, Cara, a 12-year-old notorious for staying up late, saw you and Clarisse kissing that first night- it spread like wildfire.

But it was the winter, so it still felt secret, until summer rolled around and Clarisse kept getting more and more annoyed by every camper who entered the gates. She would grab at you in the middle of meals, drag you into her bed, even kiss you in public- do all these things that seemed so out of character for her, but she was a different person when she was with you.

Everyone had been looking at you oddly all night, shocked, confused, even Clarisse has cracked a genuine smile at someone who dropped their drink- squeezing your hand.

Maybe they had all heard the rumors. Maybe they didn’t believe them.

But it’s all cleared up when Clarisse leads you to the best seat, the log not too far from the fire but not too close, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your temple.

Your cheeks heat up, only because Clarisse is never this touchy in public, and never around this many people before.

All of the eyes on you feel weird- they feel so judging.

And you’re not used to that, however vain it may be.

“Everyone’s staring at us,” you mumble, shuffling closer to Clarisse so your legs are pressed together.

She leans her head against your shoulder. “‘S okay. Don’t worry about ‘em, baby.”

You huff. “Did no one ever teach them it’s rude to stare, though? Like… c’mon.”

She sighs dramatically, lifting her head from your shoulder.

“Stop fuckin’ staring,” she says. Not quiet shouting, but her voice is loud and forceful. Her voice carries weight.

And eventually, at the risk of Clarisse’s wrath, all the wandering eyes stop.

A few of Clarisse’s siblings laugh from around you, commenting that the stares were getting a bit ridiculous, everyone just grateful that you all might get a little reprieve from the overwhelming stares and whispers.

But, you still feel uneasy. Clarisse kisses your shoulder.

And while you look around at the faces very pointedly not staring at you, there’s one person who still is. You roll your eyes, open your mouth to comment on it- but your mouth quickly snaps close at the sight of Alek.

—-

You don’t mention it to Clarisse. Maybe because breaking his heart haunts you, maybe what could have been haunts you.

You try not to think of Alek or that night, you try not to think of the entire age of 13. You always knew that Alek never quite let you go. He still sort of believed that the two of you would come back together- subscribing to some abstract belief soulmates.

You don’t think about Alek. Everything you do is because of her, because of Clarisse.

Sometimes, knowing you have secret admirers makes you feel all happy, but now that Clarisse sneaks you into her cabin every night- it makes you feel weird. You really don’t want anyone except for Clarisse, the idea of even being near someone else kinda disgusts you.

But, you choose to believe that maybe he was just shocked, and he’ll get over it in a few days.

You spend your days in the summer sun with Clarisse, holding her hand on walks through the strawberry fields, still using your archery lessons to spend time together, staring at each other from across the pavilion at meals, dreaming about a future together when it gets dark and you’re forced to whisper softly.

Alek is just always lurking. Is it coincidence? Is he stalking you? Every time you’re with Clarisse, trying to enjoy a nice date, he’s there- staring at you like a lovesick puppy.

And if it wasn’t because of her, you would probably be flattered. But you have Clarisse, you’ve moved on, you’re in love and happy.

It’s the late afternoon, you’re trying to enjoy a long moment with her, breathe in the sweet smell and just feel how happy you are, know it’s because of her.

The fields are still crowded with kids who pushed off their chores until the end of the day, so you and Clarisse stay on the outskirts. Not too far into the woods that’s filled with satyrs and nymphs who have grown very hostile towards any two campers who make their way into the woods. But not too close.

You don’t even register that other people are there. You’re going on about your annoying half-brother, she’s pretending to listen intently- but it’s just enough to be here with her, and at least she’s listening to the sound of your voice. At least that brings her some comfort, and that makes you feel good.

“And then, he said-” you trail off, feeling like something’s crawling all over you, practically being able to feel the anger in the air.

“Hm, what?” Clarisse asks, snapping out of her reverie at your silence.

Alek is glaring at you, of course. It just feels so juvenile. You had received letters from him for years- ones that he didn’t sign- but you knew. He said that the two of you had so much more to give together, that a second chance was all he needed to make you forget about the rite of passage, about pleasing your mother.

Clarisse squeezes your hand, leaning closer to you.

You used to like the feeling of getting those letters, of knowing you were loved and wanted. But now, with Clarisse, because of her- it feels wrong.

She follows your eye line and Alek quickly looks away, back down at the strawberries he’s supposed to be picking.

Clarisse’s hand tightens around yours.

“Who the hell is that?” she huffs.

You suck in a breath. “Alek.”

“Al-huh?”

You smile, despite how uneasy you feel.

“Alek, Clarisse. From my rite of passage?”

“Oh,” she nods, nose scrunching ever so slightly. “The one who left you those creepy letters? Has he left anymore?”

“No, no,” you say, risking one more glance at his back- just to assure yourself. Maybe you’re just making it all up. “Not since last summer. I mean, he was staring at us the night of the bonfire too, he’s always around on all our dates- it’s just creepy, at this point.”

“Sounds like the fucker has a death wish,” she drawls. “I’d be happy to help him with it.”

You bump her shoulder with yours. “Yeah, yeah Miss Violence.”

She smiles back, but she searches her eyes and you can tell she doesn’t like what she sees.

“Hey, c’mon. I’ll kill him if he pulls some shit again.”

“Clarisse.”

“Beat him up?”

“Clarisse.”

“Physically threaten him?”

“Clar-”

She smacks her hand over your mouth. “Shhh,” she smiles. “Don’t stress. I’ll take care of it.”

“Clarisse!” you shout, laughing, but her hand is still pressed tight over your moth.

“Oh, sorry, baby, I can’t hear you!”

“Bitch,” you hiss, and she frowns.

“Mean.”

—-

Clarisse, unfortunately, is true to her word.

Alek finally leaves you a note. It’s simple, unsigned, but obviously him. You recognize his chicken scratch scrawl.

All it says is:

I miss you, we could be something

She writes him a note back, a long one- first talking about all of her accomplishments as a daughter of Ares, then detailing all the ways she’ll make him regret thinking about you.

She tells you now, whispers in her bed, she laughs and your mouth hangs open.

“Clarisse!” you gasp, scolding her with a soft hit to her shoulder.

She rolls her eyes and moves closer to you.

“What else was I supposed to do? Ignore it? You don’t know me if you think I could just ignore some random dude flirting with my girlfriend. He’s a fuckin’ weirdo, and hopefully that note will teach him somethin’.”

“I mean. I doubt it will,” you mumble after a moment.

She smiles, your heart squeezes- because her smile is so beautiful- and because Clarisse never smiles like this. It’s bloodthirsty. It’s almost inhuman. It’s Godly.

“Then I’ll have to teach him in… other terms.”

—-

Dinner this evening is slow and relaxed. It’s Friday, so you’ve all made it to the end of the first official week of camp. Chiron let’s the rules fade away tonight, cabin tables have been abandoned and everyone sits where they want.

A few Hermes kids volunteered to start a fire, Mr D is busy trying to get the new kids to sneak him some alcohol- but he’s hard pressed to find ones who haven’t already been warned not to.

The energy in the air is infectious. The promise of a late wake up tomorrow, a fun night, the feeling of the moon and the fire, warmth on your skin- it’s a recipe for lowered inhibitions, for everything to come a little easier.

Clarisse sits next to you a table in the pavilion. You’re surrounded by Silena and Beckendorf, a few Hermes kids, a few Ares kids- a big mosh of random campers squeezed together at this one table- but it works, for whatever reason.

There’s nothing like laughing at someone’s shitty joke and feeling Clarisse laugh with you, pressed close to her so you can feel her chest rumble, feel her arm squeeze around you.

“He did what?!” Silena screeches, looking at you with wide eyes.

You laugh at her shock, at the audacity of Alek.

She sneaks a quick glance at Clarisse, who seems entirely engrossed in her siblings’ arm wresting tournament at the next table over.

“Yeah,” you sigh, feeling sort of complacent with it now. It’s not like anything will change. You’re here because of her, because of Clarisse. Everything you do is because of her.

Breathing, eating, sleeping. Basic human functions and the need to survive has only strengthened with the motivation of staying alive for her.

“Anyways,” you smile. “Clarisse left him back this big, long note. All about how she’s the strongest girl at camp,” you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too big to be anything but joking. Besides, everyone knows she’s probably right. “And then threatened him a whole bunch. So, hopefully, he’ll just get his head out of his ass and then everything will be good again.”

You breathe out at the end of your small rant, and Silena smiles sympathetically.

“Hopefully,” she echoes.

But, because of Clarisse, because of her arms around you, you don’t feel anything but peace.

—-

Of course, life is not straightforward for demigods.

At the end of the day, you’re doomed to fall in your parents footsteps- except there is no immortality for you to fall back on. You’re vain and you’re proud, just like your parents, and you step too far, jump too high, and you’re as left dust on the floor.

Even though the same path had been left out for you to repeat, doomed footsteps to follow in, you step where they stepped and expect a different end.

The night is pitch black, besides for the brilliant stars and the bright, bright moon. It makes everything feel so private and secret. It makes Clarisse relax, makes her hold you closer but looser.

It feels good to feel her arm loose around you. She’s not afraid of you disappearing, because she knows of someone dragged you away you would rise up from the waves and straight back into her, into her arms.

The Apollo kids are playing music, voices hum along, the night is on fire with the crackles and the rising smoke, on fire with the peace, the content.

It feels like nothing can hurt you here.

But you’re a demigod, and life is not that easy.

The seat next to you is abandoned, and you barely even take notice as it’s quickly filled again- but you take notice of the eyes on you, of the body leaning forward to speak softly to you.

The fact that he’s here, the fact that he blatantly didn’t listen- you suppose you could have felt some sympathy for before, craving a life that wasn’t his anymore. Living off of memories made him too hungry.

Your mouth presses into a thin line as you recognize the voice in your ear.

“Y/N, I jus’ wanna talk.”

The rest of the table has fallen silent, and you realize everyone had almost immediately taken notice of his entrance- and you could tell by the way Clarisse’s body was tense against yours- he would regret ever coming over here.

“Clarisse,” you mumble, shifting closer to her.

She hooks her head over her shoulder, shifting completely so she’s straddling the bench, pressed up against your back.

Her tone is genuinely confused.

“Are you, like, okay in the head?”

The table, previously silent with fear, now bubbles with forced laughter.

“It’s not of your business,” Alek says, staring directly into your eyes. You feel like a deer caught in headlights, just completely shocked, too scared to move like it will all become real.

Clarisse puts her hand on your forehead and floats it down across your face, and your eyes voluntarily flutter shut.

“You’re not even worthy of being looked at by her,” and you can hear the smile on her voice. She confidence seeping from her pores- you can feel it all with the way she’s protectively wrapped around you.

“Y/N,” he says again, ignoring her through gritted teeth. “I just want to talk.”

“If you say one more fuckin’ word to my girlfriend I’m gonna kill you.”

There’s no smile on her voice, no edge of a joke. Not even angry. She’s deathly calm. She’s focused, like a 20 pound weight sinking to the bottom of the sea. She cuts through whatever she has to and everything else knows to avoid her.

You don’t know why the hell Alek just can’t let the 13 year old version of you go, why he’s looking something where there’s nothing, and you’re just so done with all of this.

You open your eyes, sitting up, letting Clarisse’s arms fall around you in confusion.

“Alek,” you start, softly. “We dated for a month when we were 13. That’s all it was, that’s all it’s ever gonna be. It’s over, okay?”

“Exactly,” he breathes. “A month when we were 13- and we were that good together? We could do so much more now, I wanna show you.”

“Okay, I’m done,” you mumble, standing up.

And without you in between, Alek finally gets a good look at the daughter of war. She’s pure, streamlined muscle. Every inch of her body has been meticulously trained to kill monsters- Alek knows that killing him would be easy.

Clarisse cracks her knuckles and you almost laugh at how cinematic it is.

—-

You hum as you run the alcohol pad over her split knuckles. Clarisse likes to leave the scars like this, the small ones, let them heal on her own. Even though she winces at the feeling, you know she’ll be walking around, proudly showing off her scabs until they finally fade away. She’ll cross her fingers and hope they scar, probably.

Clarisse watches you with admiration, admiring your movements, your voice, even though you’re really not doing anything special. But, to her, everything you do is special.

“Did you see how bad his face was?” she asks, trying to remain calm, but eagerness slips into her voice.

“I did,” you laugh. “It was real bad, baby. Good job.”

She huffs, as if it’s common knowledge.

“I always do a good job, just matters what level of good I’m on. I think this was one of my best works though, huh?”

She admires her split knuckles and you roll your eyes, finally starting to put some bandaids on the clean wounds.

“You’re crazy,” you mutter.

She shrugs. “You’re the one who let me. You’re the one who loves me.”

“Yeah,” you mumble after a moment, not really wanting to lie to her, tease her right now. She smiles soft and sweet, placing her fingertips against your jawline and leaning forward.

“Did you like watching me?” she breathes, her low voice hitting you right in the stomach, breath against your lips.

You circle her biceps with your hands and run them up and down the tense muscle.

“You know I did.”

“Three months no dessert,” she smiles.

“Three months of sharing with you,” you laugh. She smiles wider before finally, mercifully, putting her lips on yours.

Everything you do is because of Clarisse. It feels so good to be close to her like this- practically in her lap- fo feel how strong she is, to know what she did for you today.

It feels so good to know she loves you.

When you pull away, trying to chase her, she dodges you and kisses your jawline, your neck, and you throw your head back and release the most unladylike sounds as she leaves hickies on your neck, seemingly determined to make them as dark as possible, as easy to see. And a lot of them.

“Jealous?” you say, biting your lip to keep in a moan.

“Just want everyone to know you’re my girl. Want everyone to know who makes you feel good, feel loved, huh?”

You stomach twists and your mind goes blank.

“Huh?” she repeats, sticking her face in your neck to breathe in and out, catching her breath. “Why you feelin’ like this, baby?”

“Because of you,” you breathe. “Because of you, Clarisse.”

—-

y/n walking around the next day looking like she got attacked by a vampire

silena trying to be happy for y’all but also concerned for your health

clarisse just being proud as hell

—-

this was small so idk if y’all picked it up but clarisse was jealous before alek even came along- jealous that there were more campers coming! like? she just doesn’t like unworthy losers looking at her girl 🙄

—-

possessive!clarisse i love you so much baby

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

[blingblong55]

Scream it-Simon 'Ghost' Riley NSFW

A/N: I missed doing Monster AU's tbh, so thank you for this request&lt;3

Based on a request:

Love your work! If you’re still taking requests for Kinktober, would love to see Ghost with F!Reader for 5 (breeding) and/or 25 (monster AU). --- F!reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, breeding kink, monster au, unprotected!sex, Dub-Con?, rough!sex, light!degradation, light!slapping, P-in-V (I've been forgetting to add this one lol), oral!sex ---

You were walking back home late at night, your shift at work was horrendous and now as the cold weather fell upon your skin, you felt as if you were being watched. A pocket knife fisted between your hand and chest. As you walked home, the steps got closer and in a not-so-smart moment, you took left, taking the shortcut home through the small part of the woods. The footsteps stopped and you sighed in relief. "A few more minutes and I'll be home," you reminded yourself. As soon as that relief came, the bushes began to rustle, something usual this time of year.

It was always said to believe your town was filled with creatures that humans couldn't and wouldn't be able to fully comprehend. You heard more rustling and then slightly tripped on a tree branch that was sticking out, a light gasp left your lips. "Idiot," you whisper to yourself. For a moment, as you regained composure you swore you had seen a tall dark figure. "Nope, not doing this," you began to walk faster, that was until you saw the same shadow stand in your way. "I'm going crazy," you shut your eyes but the figure is still there once you open them back up. "You're not darling~" the beast speaks and you stand frozen from fear. "What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" he chuckles and his hand goes to your chin, forcing you to make eye contact.

You recognise those eyes. Had seen them multiple times before, shit, it was your goddamn neighbour, the man with the mask. He grins and seems to understand you finally figured out who he is. "Well, hello, darling," his breath hot against your skin. This was odd, how did he turn into this? You back up, only to have him wrap his fingers around you, "Don't you know a little thing like you walking alone is a dangerous thing?" His hand travel your body. Yes, in his human form he was the man you fancy but this, this is something else. "Why don't I take you home. I promise to keep you safe~" his voice almost haunting.

If you said no, what sick thing would he do? If you said, yes, what twisted idea would he come up with? The way he said he would take you home was not an ask but rather a demand. He grabs your hand, guiding you back out the woods and to the road. Did he not care if anyone saw him this way? His eyes would travel your body, unclothing you with them as he imagined the ways he would have you scream his name for all to hear that he has claimed you. No other man or monster can have what his hands, heart and dick can give you.

As soon as you got inside your flat, he walked inside, "Why don't I show you how good I can make you feel?" his hands wandering your soft skin. "I don't think-" You were cut off by his lips on yours. A hunger coming from his mouth as you tried to understand what was going on. "Oh, darling you will have me," he kisses your neck. "Fuck, aren't you a little treat," his lips never leaving your warm skin. You push him away but he gets a hold of you, his hold rough. "You think I can't tell you have been touching yourself? That you rub that clit of yours when you watch me work out through my window? hm?" he makes your hands remain behind your back. "I've heard you moan my name, sweet girl." with one hand holding both your wrists and the other on your neck, he kisses you aggressively.

"I know you fuck your fingers into your cunt whilst dreaming of me," he then lets go of your hands. "Get on your fucking knees like the whore you are," he demands with a growl. No longer was he the sweet neighbour you knew. You remain standing and then he slaps your face, "Don't you want to please me, slut?" he slaps you again but harder this time. A sadistic smile on him. As you get on your knees, your eyes get filled with tears, ready to be spilt out. "Take it out, like the fucking whore you are and suck me," he slaps you again. Your hands undo the belt and zipper of his trousers. "Oh, aren't you being so obedient, didn't take long for your needy ass to get down." His hands grab a fist of your hair, you lick the tip and without warning he slips his entire fat cock into your mouth.

You tried your best to take it all, it was not only big in length but in thickness. You try to speak but your throat gets more stuffed with his cock. You close your eyes, trying to concentrate on breathing and taking him full. He slaps you again, making your tears fall down, "look at me," he commands but you were too drunk on his cock to comprehend what he has asked of you. "I said look at me, bitch!" he slaps you again and you finally make eye contact. Your tears fall down, drool fills your mouth and gags making you get slapped more when you would close your eyes. He pulled his dick out and your droll comes falling down your mouth. "Look at you," he slaps his dick on your mouth and cheeks, "what a fucking whore." he spits out.

"Get up," he commands once more and you do so quickly. He pushes you against your sofa and with his sharp claws, rips your jeans off. Your wet cunt coating your knickers, he takes slaps your cunt through them and then slaps your face. "Beg me to fill you," he cups your face with one hand. You almost began to plead to be let go but knew that it wasn't an option this time. "I said beg," he growls and rips your top, your tits falling out as your brassiere gets ripped from your chest. "fill me...fill me," your voice small. He rubs his cock against your slit, the tip making your clit yearn for more. He chuckles as you begin to grind your hips, wanting to get any sort of relief from him. He slaps his cock on your pussy and his length splits your hole open.

You let out a whimper but he slaps your ass, "Don't you fucking make a noise. You only do that when I tell you to," he fingers your clit, and then smirks as he watches your face twist when you try to contain your whimpers and moans. "You're such a fucking dumb slut," he slaps your ass again and then thrusts himself into you. "Scream, I need you to scream," he slaps your pussy and then your tits. Your eyes fill with tears as he continues to slap and pin you to the couch. He leaves a scratch on your thigh and tit. His sharp teeth leave a mark on your neck.

His thrust is animalistic, he growls and his hands fly to your hips, thrusting his cock inside of you, your cunt red and marked by him. "I'm going to fill you up, fuck kids into you and watch as I fill you with my pups," he groans and smirks. Your tits bounce with each thrust he gives you, "what a cum slut you are, you bitch," he slaps the side of your thigh. His pre-cum leaking into you. "Look at you, moaning as I fuck my cum into you, filling every bit of your sweet pussy," he pinches and pulls with your nipples. You buck your hips, legs by his side as his moans get louder, he goes faster on your cock, and you roll your eyes back. "Scream like the slut you are," he slaps your ass. "Ghost,...fuck...Ghost!" your eyes shut and you bite your lip down.

His claws mark your body, his scent being rubbed all over your body. "You won't come, I won't let you, slut." he moans out as his thrusts begin to get slower, his seed leaking into you. He rubs your tummy, "Look at you, getting filled with my pups." He kisses your hand and pulls out, his cum dripping down your legs and his own shaft. Your walls are painted by him, he leans forward and kisses your neck, "Say what you are, tell me," he touches your tits again. "A slut... I..I'm a slut~" you say between moans and pants. He grins and kisses your lips. --- Tags: @chibijusstuff @liyanahelena @greatstormcat @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @illumisgirlfriend @amygaster004 @johfaam @montenegroisr @proxysgurl @actorryswife

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod #mwii #cod smut #ghost smut #monster au #kinktober 2023 #breed kink #simon riley call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon riley imagine #simon riley x y/n #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost cod x reader #ghost cod mw2 #ghost cod smut #ghost cod mwii #ghost cod fanart #simon riley #cod mw ghost

[catcze]

NO BC LISTEN.

WIRO REACTING TO HIS CRUSH/LOVER WEARING A SUIT. LIKE IT FITS THEIR FRAME SO PERFECTLY AND SNUGLY AND WDYM “WHY IS HE LOOKING” OFC HE’S LOOKING LIKE HELLO???

I can’t tell if he would shameless let his eyes roam or would avoid looking at them KDIDKSKSK WIRO BRAINROT IS SO REALL

KAJNSDSA BROOO OMG okokokok something along the lines but 👀

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

You're fiddling with the cuffs of your suit as you exit the changing room, a frown on your face. You're nervous— of course you are! It's not often that you're invited to a high-profile, black-tie event like this, and you'd rather not stick out like a sore thumb.

Wriothesley, who sits comfortably in a plush armchair, has been invited before though. But time and time again he's turned down the invites with some of the most ludicrous excuses. 'A monster is attacking the fortress' is one of his most used ones, closely followed by 'a bird shat on the shoulder of my suit.' But you wonder why he's accepted this time, despite his distaste for the limelight. Well, you shrug, pocketing the thought for later. At least you won't be going alone.

"What do you think?" You pose the question to him, still frowning as you look down at yourself. Did you look okay? Was the fit alright? Did this color wash you out? You had splurged on this (well. Wriothesley splurged on this, technically. He had said it's a gift) and had the suit custom-done, so it should fit your measurements to an exact, but... you frown, not able to shake off the nerves.

And it doesn't help that Wriothesley hasn't said anything since you've stepped out, either. Merely stares at you, eyes roaming your figure. Even at your question, he acts like he hadn't even heard it. Does the suit look that bad?

"Wrio?"

That seems to reach him, and he blinks, finally registering that he's been staring at you— and that you've begun to stare back.

"Oh, uh. Yeah, it looks nice on you. The tailor did a very good job," he says, glancing away, hoping you don't see the red tinge to his cheeks or his ears.

"Really?" You ask, evaluating yourself in the mirror with a frown. "I don't know. I feel like I look like a mess."

"if you look like a mess, then I dread to think what I look like," he says, glancing at you for a second, getting an eyeful of you in that damn good suit, and feels his mouth dry up again. Wriothesley turns his eyes to the corner of the room, finding the fake palm plant there incredibly interesting. Barely more interesting than you. In that very flattering suit. It emphasizes your body very well, he thinks. Makes him see just enough of you while still leaving some to the imagination. And the color you chose for it... red and black, to match what he'll wear, you said. He sighs, troubled, because just the mere memory of it has his heart racing and his palms sweating.

You keep criticizing your reflection for a while longer, and it takes just enough time for Wriothesley to work up the self-control to look your way. "You look good," he says at last. Then clears his throat. His face feels hot. "Better than good, even. You don't have anything to worry about, I promise."

It placates you, because you finally give your own reflection a rest. You back away from the mirror, humming. "If you say so. Thank you, Wrio," you tell him, flashing him a small, shy smile just before you back up into the changing room once more to take it off.

Once you're out of the vicinity, Wriothesley drops his head into his palms, groaning softly.

if he's this much of a mess around you at a fitting, he wonders how much of a fool he could make himself at the actual event.

#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #genshin impact #wriothesley #Fun fact he alr rejected the invite before he learned you were also invited & would attend lmao #as soon as he knew you were going he wrote up a follow up letter going smthn like 'NO WAIT EXCUSE ME CHANGE OF PLANS I WILL ATTEND' #babe i will b so honest im drunk as a skunk rn so if its bad im so sorry ill edit come morening ily mwah mwah #<-tag from last night when I was planning 2 post drunk but decided to hold on to it HAJJDS dw dw i edited it alr

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

I find the concept of leaving the window open as an invitation for a monster to fuck me in my sleep incredibly hot.

I think about leaving the window open at night while I masturbate, naked in my bed with a fake cock pumping in and out of my cunt, cute totally-not-fake-definitely-not-putting-on-a-show gasps and moans echoing into the night. The scent of need wafting through the open window and faint sounds of masturbation my calling card for any monsters nearby.

I think about “accidentally” tiring myself out so much I fall asleep atop the covers like that, limbs splayed out like a starfish with the dildo stuffed to the base in my cunt. Anyone could see the slutty mess I left myself in and invite themselves in, at this point it seems almost like an open invitation. But who would reach me on the third floor?

I think about my monster showing up in the dead of night, clamoring through the open window silently and with ease. Oftentimes it’s a werewolf or demon, other times it’s an alien or bundle of curious tentacles not from this reality. They take my sleeping form in, and tut at the stupidity of the human in front of them, thinking they could just leave themselves like this with the window open and think living on the third floor bought them any safety from beings like them.

Still, it’s a tantalizing sight. If they didn’t hear me, they could definitely smell me from miles away. And after seeing me sound asleep with a large toy stuffed in my cunt, well, they just have to fuck me. How could they leave such easy, needy prey alone? Clearly I needed to be bred.

They inspect me, feeling out my form to find me dead asleep, sniffing my crotch and tugging on the toy to find me still delightfully sensitive. They play with it, play with the toy in my cunt, pulsing it in and out as their dick grows hard at the sight and sound of the toy fucking me in my sleep, little gasps accompanying it. They think it would be all too easy to remove the toy and swap it out for their dick—and they do, finding my cunt has been prepped by the toy to fit them perfectly.

They pull out the toy and sink into me slowly. I whimper in my sleep from the feeling of their hot cock lodging itself in my cunt. It feels so good, and I’m just so helpless sleeping underneath them. They begin to grind into me, slowly picking up speed as they feel my cunt grow even wetter and they hear my little gasps and moans get louder. Soon they’re fucking me in earnest, not caring if I rouse from sleep or not to see them use my body like this. Sometimes I do, I’m aware but I don’t want them to stop, so I either stay in my half asleep state or wake up fully so they can hear me pleading them not to stop, how it feels so good, how I want them to cum in me so bad. Sometimes I don’t, their ministrations fueling a wild wet dream not too dissimilar from the reality of the monster fucking me asleep in my own bed that only makes me double my moans as the sensations from the dream become startling real. Either way, the result is always the same.

Both our peaks build until finally they slam into me deep, feeling my cunt tighten around their cock as they spurt thick ropes of cum into my depths and bring me to full orgasm. They cum for what feels like forever, still not stopping their movements as they’re determined to fuck their seed into my womb. If they possess a knot (they often do) this is where they pop it into my cunt, causing me to moan again as they fill me with thick cum until my belly visibly pooches, the knot tugging deliciously on my hole as they thrust. The feeling of them still fucking me with my cunt filled to the brim with their seed sends aftershocks throughout my body until I feel my orgasm come again.

They keep fucking their seed into me until they go soft and slip out. I want to whine but before I do, they take the dildo and force it into my cunt to the base and then some, plugging up my cunt. I moan loudly at being filled again. “Keep this safe for me til morning, okay?” They whisper in my ear wickedly, patting my pooched naked belly, sharp teeth glittering in the moonlight as they take their leave.

I do what they say, because why wouldn’t I? I always wake up so full and warm, cum leaking down my leg as I stand and the desire from the previous night finally satiated.

And I know I will be doing this again every night from now on, curious and aroused by what all manner of monsters may come through my window at night—maybe even multiple in a single night, if I’m lucky and word spreads.

.

#monsterfucker confessions

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Green Eyed Monster.

Eddie's ex is at the bar you visit and has her eyes set on Eddie.

Eddie however only has eyes for you.

Warnings: Minors dni, 18+, jealous reader, bit of angst, older Eddie x Reader.

Don't copy, reuse or repost my work

♥️

The sounds of laughter coming from the bar wss enough to have you on edge for the last hour or so.

What you thought would be a quiet drink with Eddie had turned into something quite different.

She was here, Elena. His ex before he met you and seeing her in the flesh was a shock to your system.

She was stunning, perfect body, killer smile and radiating seduction. It was enough to send you to this quiet corner, nursing a drink (or three) with jealousy eating away at you.

Eddie had pointed at you and you heard him say he was here with you. The look on Elena's face was of pure malice and she pratically looked down her nose at you which made you feel even more miserable.

Every time Eddie went to the bar for a drink Elena would pounce on him and hold his attention and cut into your time with him.

You weren't stupid, you knew Eddie had been with a lot of women, he was older than you (39 while you were just turning twenty six)

He was so much more experienced than you and yes you shouldn't get jealous like this, he was with you and that's what mattered but you couldn't help it, especially when Elena made it clear what she thought of you.

Fed up with feeling sorry for yourself and growing irratated by Elena draping herself all over Eddie you decided to head to the bar for another drink.

You've just sat down when a guy from the table closest to the bar is by your side.

"Why hello beautiful, you here alone? Can I get you a drink" You hold up your newly purchased drink and nod to Eddie.

"I'm here with my..." Actually what was Eddie to you? Was he your boyfriend? Was your relationship going anywhere what wasn't just sex?

You can feel Eddie's gaze on you and you catch his eye noticing the way he's glaring at the guy beside you.

It was perfectly fine for him to let his gorgeous ex flirt openly with him though you thought to yourself and grew even more annoyed with him.

In fact you wanted nothing more than to drink a little bit more and forget your troubles. Ignoring Eddie you excuse yourself from the bar and decide to dance.

Maybe you're a little bit tipsy but the music is so good and it's beginning to cheer you up just a little bit.

The guy from the bar sidles up to you and he smiles at you as he dances along beside you introducing himself as Nathan.

That's when Eddie appears with Elena nowhere in sight and he moves to take your hand.

"Come on. We're leaving" You pout and shake your head, just wanting to dance.

"Thought you were too busy chatting to Elena" You shrug his hand away and he scowls at your tone. You don't mean to be so snappish but you're still a bit pissed off.

"Yeah dude, back off we were dancing" Nathan huffs but pales under Eddie's vicious glare.

"We're leaving. Now" he takes your hand once more and leads you outside.

It's a short walk to his apartment and Eddie is fuming silently as you head to his.

The whole walk is in silence until you're inside his apartment. He shrugs off his lesther jacket and glares at you.

"Bed now" his tone leaves no room for arguments but you're in no mood to be good tonight and fold your arms across your chest, not moving an inch.

"No"

"Why are you acting like such a brat? Do you want me to take you over my knee right now because I'm fucking tempted"

Just the thought makes you wet and you're mad at yourself for being so turned on when you're so annoyed with him.

"Do what you want" You reply and your answer is met with him throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to bed.

A harsh slap to your backside quietens your protests and he dumps you on the bed.

He kisses you and it's hot, demanding and it makes you needy for more.

Eddie smirks as he makes quick work of both of your clothes and his mouth his all over your naked body.

"You're mine sweetheart, how do you think it made me feel seeing that boy drool all over you"

You're barely capable of any thought as he uses his fingers to rub relentlessly at your clit.

Some of your anger returns a little bit as you remember Elena and you glare at him, he slows down the pace with his fingers suprised at your fury.

"Didn't think you were too bothered when you had that goddess drooling over you all night" he smirks and you're just about to move away from him when he gently tilts your chin up so you look at him.

"You're jealous?" Tears burn in your eyes and you use his suprise to shrug away from him and begin to pull on your clothes.

"Yes I was because she's stunning and perfect and the way she looked at me made me feel like a slug and like I'm not worthy of you"

He takes a step towards you but you shake your head trying to hold yourself together.

"Maybe she's right. I don't even know what I mean to you besides sex so maybe someone like Elena would be better for you because if I stay with you any longer I'm going to fall even deeper for you and...

He strides over to you and gently places a finger on your lips.

"I don't want Elena. You're adorable when you're all pouty and jealous but let me make one thing clear, I told Elena about you and made it clear I wasn't interested in her. I told her to clear off princess"

"Why? Like I said she's gorgeous" he dismisses this.

"No one is as beautiful as you in my eyes, I wish you would see that. I wish you would see how fucking madly in love with you I am"

His confession stuns you, this time your tears are for happy reasons.

"I love you" You tell him and he kisses your forehead.

"A thousand Elena's couldn't compare to you sweetheart" he kisses you and it's slow and gentle, perfect.

The tension evaporates and you spend the rest of the night in Eddie's arms. Those three little words spoken again and again.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #older eddie munson

[ultralightpoe]

Spellbound Part 3- Geralt of Rivia

Authors Note: Y'ALL I AM SO SORRY! I thought I scheduled it and I do monthly breaks from all social media! Omg I really screwed y'all over! I AM SO SO SO SO SO SORRY. How can I make it up birdies?

Word Count: 3093

Description: Part One and Part Two

Warnings: Heavy smuttt y'all

Enjoy!

Before Geralt had lost his entire life he was told as a child that there was always a beginning, middle and end. And though most people always thought that this merely pertained to stories his parents always told him that they belonged to humans too.

Every human had a beginning, middle and end.

Every monster had a beginning.

Every Saint had a beginning.

But none of them mattered right now, because all Geralt could think of right now was you. Your beginning, middle and end. He wanted to know more of your story more than he ever had before. 

You had both settled down at a rundown inn, him covering his hair and you covering the bruises someone had left on your neck. The innkeeper, a straggly old lady that could barely turn to grab the key to the rooms, barely cast either of you a glance. 

You kept close to him as you both made your way up the stairs, and Geralt was embarrassed to admit that a surge of pride crossed through him at this. You seek his warmth and protection, and he would give it. He would give you anything you wanted. 

Yennifer had left as soon as she could, saying that she would be going to find Jaskier and letting him know they found you. 

Geralt would keep you with him in the inn, per Jaskiers request. The bard pretends to worry about you with all the traveling, claiming that it would be best if he came to the two of you. Geralt saw the lie, he just could not give a shit. 

Instead he started a fire, setting you in front of it and mumbling that he would be right back. You snatch to grab his upper arm when he moves to leave, but he merely nods, letting you know it is okay to let go. So you do, swiping your fingers under your eyes quickly, but it was too late and he had already seen the tears.

He makes the trip quick, buying you warmer clothes and heading back and ordering some hot stew from the innkeeper, heading back to the room when she tells him she will bring it. 

You are right where he left you when he comes back in, this time a little closer to the fire and curled up a little tighter. Geralt, who had always struggled to sneak around, tried to lighten his footsteps as he neared you. 

“I brought some fresh clothes. How about a bath and a change?” He asks, his voice scratchy from lack of use, but he does his best to keep it gentle. 

You shake your head, the slightest of movement that somehow managed to clench his heart in his chest. “I’m too tired.”

“Allow me.” He whispers, holding out his hand for you. 

“Allow you?”

“To bathe you.”

“You would do that?” You smile, the beginning of a laugh climbing up your throat at the thought. 

“It would be my honor.” His tone makes it sound like he is teasing, but there is nothing but seriousness behind that comment. 

“You won’t jest?”

“Never.”

And at the simple touch of your fingers reaching up to his own has his skin on fire, shaking slightly as he helps your stand, shuffling to the bathroom and leading you to the center of the room and turning to heat the bottom of the tub with fire as he waits for you to get undressed 

But when he turns back to you he finds you waiting patiently, still in the gaudy thin dress, watching slowly. 

You seem fazed out now, eyes shuttering as you reach to him and begin untying his own shirt. A moment of startlement crosses him before he reaches a hand up and stops you by grasping your own in his larger palms. He rubs softly as he tries to relax you, shaking his head. 

“Not me. You.”

“You, with me.”

“I do not want to-”

“I don’t wanna be exposed alone.” It’s then that Geralt knows what you mean. You don’t want to be the only one naked and vulnerable. So he would join you. Anything for you. 

He turns to undress as you undress yourself, and once he hears you get into the tub he turns himself, his heart stopping in his chest at the sight of you. 

Your breasts are just barely covered by the water, and within that moment you managed to tie your hair up with a leather scrap, exposing the bruised neck and collarbone . In this moment you looked broken, and still astonishingly beautiful. It wasn’t fair. 

He takes a moment to climb in, and suddenly he feels the stress from the last few months beginning to fade from his body as he nears you, sitting across from you knee to knee. 

Silence fills the room, and Geralt stresses to find something to say as you lean forward to rest your forehead on his knee. 

“Turn around so I can wash your hair.” He whispers, allowing you room to do so and beginning to work on your hair with the soap. “My parents used to tell me stories.”

“About kings and dragonslayers?”

“No, about monsters.” 

“How so?”

“They used to tell me that the saints and the monsters of the world all had stories of their own, that everyone you come across has a beginning, middle and end.” 

You turn slightly to watch him, and he does his best to seem relaxed. 

“I spent most of my time stressed in impressing and protecting you.” He whispers. “I was gruff, which I do with most people. Keeping you and everyone else at arm's length.”

“I’m trying to see how this relates, witcher.”

“I want to know your story, I want to know your beginning and middle and I am desperate to be with you until the end.”

“Why would you want to know all of that?”

“I have found that, even with you mad at me, that I am nothing in this world without you.”

“I will tell you everything if you tell me everything.”

—------------

You fall asleep listening to him whisper the same stories his parents once told you, rubbing your hair softly as you keep your nose shoved into his chest. 

You awake around midnight screaming, it takes Gerat a couple minutes to calm you down before he moves to start another fire, bringing you closer to it for warmth and letting you lay in front of it. 

The days follow as this, staying by the fire in the cold winter air, whispering back and forth. Eating the stew and roasts the innkeeper made. 

You tell him about your life, and he tells you about yours. 

Finally you ask. 

“Shouldn’t you be out there? Working for the people?” Your head is laid out on his thigh as he watches the snow fall from the window. “I have never known you to sit still, Geralt.”

His heart lurches at the sound of his name falling from your lips. “I have spent the past few weeks working…..for you.”

“What do you mean?” You ask quickly, lifting your head from his thigh, eyes traveling his scarred abdomen before landing to his eyes. 

“I was trying to buy out the contract. For you?”

“Why would you do that? How much money did that end up being?”

“Not enough. It seems that the monster of a brothel keeper and I can agree on one thing, you are priceless.”

“Then how-”

“Yennifer smuggled you out-”

“Then what of the coin?”

“It’s yours. It’s all yours if you want it. Enough to buy a cottage in the hillside for years and-”

“And what if I wanted to stay with you? And Jaskier? Or do you not want me?”

“There is nothing more that I want than you. But I treated you horribly-”

You snap to stand then, hair flipping as you stomp across the room to fling a pillow at him. “How so?”

“That night, you were under a spell and I was so close to absolutely defiling you-”

“I wanted it! If you weren’t so pigheaded you would know that those charms only work if the one wearing it is-” 

“Stop.” There was a heavy force in the room, pressing through his chest to his lungs as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Stop what?”

“This will ruin everything-”

“How. So.”

“BECAUSE I CAN’T LOSE YOU!” He yells, rubbing at his forehead. “I would rather not have you than lose you. Do you understand?”

“Do you love me?”

“Y-”

“Do you love me as I love you?” 

“Yes.” And just like that the tight feeling in his gut that formed the moment he had laid eyes on you. His body was lighter and his heart felt like it was righted once more. “I love you.”

“Then what does it matter?”

“You’ve….. You have had a long couple m-”

“I want you.” You whisper, slowly tiptoeing around the room. “I trust no one but you. No one has given me the truth more, and protected me more.”

“I was cruel and-”

“I understand now.” You smile, tears filling your eyes. “I’ve seen terrible terrible men-”

His fists clench at his sides, the urge to find every man that harmed you and smash their heads with a hammer, as he watches you move closer until your own hands find purchase on his chest. 

The warmth fills him the second you touch him. 

“But you, in all your gruff warnings and rude awakenings, have never been a bad man.”

“You deserve better.”

“I am a brothel worker. I deserve nothing. But this is not what I deserve, this is what I want. Desperately so.”

“You want me?”

“I need you, Geralt.”

His hands unclench, moving up until they rest at your cheeks as he gazes down at you. “I need you too.”

“Then show me.” It’s a simple whisper, but one he hears through his being all the same, moving you backwards slowly until the back of your knees are pressed to the bed. He waits for you to show him a sign of fear or that you changed your mind. But you merely smile up at him, fingers moving to slide over the scars on his abdomen. 

“I trust you.” You whisper, the tips of your fingers sliding against his skin until they get to the breaches he wears and begin untying them.

“After what you have been through…”

“I want you to remind me of what it could be.” And he can’t help himself after that, moving to grab the bottoms of the night dress, keeping eye contact with you as his fingers graze your thighs while he lifts it up slowly, his heart hammering in his chest as you smile softly, allowing him to stand once more and remove the dress from you. 

You allow him to watch you, the wild look in his eyes as he traces your skin slowly. 

“You’ll tell me the second you change your mind?”

“The very instant.”  It was like a cord snapping, a leash let go and suddenly Geralt could not help himself. In one quick swoop he reaches to toss you onto the bed, watching you with dark eyes while you scooch backwards to get comfortable.

He prowls above you, enjoying the excited gleam in your eye as he crawls between your legs to kiss at your lips softly, then the softness turns to hunger as his hand grabs your jaw and he devours you. Kissing you like a man completely starved of it. 

A soft moan falls from your lips and he is nearly a goner, his breath lost as he pulls back to admire his work, a string of saliva keeping you both connected as you take a moment to open your eyes, lips swollen and red. He holds out his hand, waiting patiently for you to catch your breath before he orders you to “Spit.”

You comply easily, and he stops himself from growling in pleasure before he takes his hand and slaps your cunt harshly, a smile tearing across his face when you moan out before he is crawling back down the bed to shove his face between your legs roughly and lick a stripe between your folds. 

The moment your thighs tighten around his head he vows that he will spend the rest of his life doing this, no matter where and no matter when. He would suffocate in this spot if you would let him. A low growl releases from his chest as you moan, fingers lacing themselves in his hair tightly and tugging as he laps at your clit.

Over and over, feeling you spasm with pleasure twice before you use your hands and tug him up by his hair, whining. 

He drags his eyes up to you then, seeing the tears from pleasure streaming down your cheeks as he kneels in front of you on the bed. 

“Are you hurt?” Even if he had the carnal urge to take you right here and now your safety and well being came first and foremost. You seem to realize this as you move up and reach to wrap your arms around his neck, his hands flying to your sides to help stabilize you. Rubbing softly as he peers down at you, him being twice your size. 

Just the thought of it makes his stomach clench in anticipation as you lean up to kiss him, allowing him to lean you both back down onto the bed and lay over you, picking up the kiss just as hungrily. 

He only pulls away from your kiss to kiss along your neck and collarbone as you reach down to line him up. He has to close his eyes and take in a shuddering breath the second you touch him and it takes everything not to finish there. 

But it is all worth it as he pushes in, a growl once again ripping out of his chest as you moan out, foreheads pressed together as he pushes until he is bottomed out. 

“So….. fuck.”

“Neverstop.” You whine, pressing your chest up into his with your eyes still closed. But that just wouldn’t do. How could he admire your fucked out look if he didn’t have your undivided attention. So he pulls your hair and orders you to open your eyes. 

You don’t listen, instead moving your hips to gain some friction so he shoves his own hips down to keep you pinned into place as he orders one more. “Let. Me. See. Your. Fucking. Eyes.”

When you finally open them he begins moving, a slow pace at first, allowing you to gain pleasure slowly but the second he feels the tightness loosen up and you get wetter he is unleashed, pounding into you at a heavy pace. 

The headboard hits the wall with each hit, and your face is thrown into one of pure pleasure as he keeps going. And Geralt cannot think of anything he has ever done to deserve this. 

He would never actually deserve this, but he was so grateful that you had given him a chance, because this is what pure heaven was. 

“You’re mine.” He grunts out, one fist tightening in your hair as he kisses down your throat, thrusting into you at a rapid pace as your hands fly to scratch down his back in a way that has him holding his breath to stop from finishing. 

“I’m yours.” You moan out, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“I’m never letting y- FUCK- you leave again.”

“I’ll never leave again.” 

“I’ll kill any man that touches you.” 

“No one else.” You cry out, and he feels you tighten around him once more and knows you’re close so he reaches a hand and pinches at your nipple harshly. “Only you Geralt. My Geralt!” You come undone around him, eyes rolling back as he keeps you pressed to his chest and finishes inside you, keeping you as close as he can while letting you both ride out your highs. 

By the time you both finish he lays you both down, his head laying on your chest with him laying between your legs as you play with your hair. 

“I love you…..” You whisper, twirling some of his hair softly.

“I love you.” He replies, moving until his chin is laying on your stomach and he can look up at you. “And I will never let you forget that.”

—-------------

You are awakened by a boot pressing into your cheek as you grumble out and move to push it away. 

“Geralt I swear-” But when you open your eyes you see none other than Jaskier with a cheeky little grin over his face as he stares down at you, a mug of what smells like cider in his hand. 

“Not your lover, but your closest friend.”

“Roach wears boots now?” You laugh, moving to stretch as he rolls his eyes. It had been months since you escaped the brothel, and since everything has changed. Jaskier seems more clingy than ever which was something you only pretended to hate, and Geralt has gone from the stoic asshole to the stoic love of your life…… well in public. 

Behind closed doors he spent most of his time worshiping you. 

“Where is he?” You ask after surveying to find him.

“He took little one to get some water.” 

Another thing that had changed, the young girl that you had smuggled out of a brothel months ago, who has slowly become like a daughter to you, well youngest daughter since you considered Ciri your daughter as well. 

“We’re here!” Y/d calls, her pudgy hand held in Geralts as he leads the girls back, Ciri with a small smile on her face while Y/d rushes to you. “We got water!”

“And Geralt says we have to be off.” Ciri sighs, leaning forward to accept your loving touch as you fuss over her hair. 

“Let’s get on the horses.” Your lover grunts, lifting y/d from under her shoulders and setting her on roach, moving to help Ciri before getting to you. A hand finds purchase on your thigh as you lift yourself onto your horse, smiling down at him. 

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“While you look like that? How will I ever break the love spell?”

“Guess your spellbound then.”

“Always have been.” He kisses your thigh while Jaskier is turned before turning to his own horse and jumping on, making sure y/d is comfortable before moving on.

(I AM SO SORRY, I REALLY THOUGHT I SCHEDULED IT BABES. How can I make it up? I'll do anything.....)

@sagelovesreading

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